#probably really much thought behind the implications maybe?

[icethinggigachad]

This is gonna sound like a wet blanket moment from me but I think the instance of ford not showering to keep away bill(?) (If i'm remembering that correctly) is more sad and terrifying for him than a silly trait.

It's an extremely common response to being abused to stop doing things like self care (ex. showering) to try to keep your abuser away. And its so weirdly specific and uncomfortably realistic it just feels icky to make it a silly ford moment.

[selfcarecap]

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them. 

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. 

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring. 

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. 

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more. 

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it. 

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite. 

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it? 

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead? 

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. 

He could give it to you. 

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing? 

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside. 

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. 

Sappy motherfucker. 

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep. 

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse. 

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks. 

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you. 

He wakes up with morning wood. 

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. 

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. 

It’s soo stupid. 

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps. 

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you. 

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again. 

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself. 

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist? 

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him. 

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

-

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw. 

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone. 

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw? 

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it. 

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it. 

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.” 

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. 

“Did you draw it?” He asks. 

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.” 

“Secret admirer?” 

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.” 

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended. 

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. 

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” 

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” 

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all. 

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created. 

-

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven. 

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing. 

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy. 

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect. 

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end. 

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?). 

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time. 

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him? 

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

-

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know. 

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight. 

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid. 

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say. 

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that). 

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile. 

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh. 

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him. 

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone. 

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears. 

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is. 

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him. 

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his. 

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long. 

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better. 

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access. 

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide. 

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged. 

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead. 

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath. 

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself. 

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. 

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still. 

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head. 

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while. 

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is. 

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

[sook9i]

— NAKED IN MANHATTAN

⋆｡°✩ After a drunk conversation leads you to question your feelings for your bandmate and friend, Hueningkai, maybe a night together in Manhattan is just what you need to clear the air.

. . . GENRE ! Hueningkai x reader | smut | fluff | friends to lovers

. . . CONTAINS ! virgin!kai, virgin!reader, 6th member!reader, afab!reader, talks of virginity, mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption, swearing, loss of virginity, unrealistic first time? (not that i would know), no established dynamics, fingering, protected sex 🙏, some aftercare, a little too much foreplay, consent checks, kinda just porn with plot, the other members tease them about their virginity (don’t do that)

. . . WORD COUNT ! 4660

. . . NOTES ! i’ve been writing this for,,,literally ever and i’m so glad it’s finally done !! this is inspired by naked in manhattan by chappell roan however considering that it’s a sapphic love song i’m still kinda unsure if i’m going to keep the title of it for this fic. if anyone has any opinions let me know!! anyways i hope you enjoy!!

. . . ADMIN ! written by callie 😼

Bright lights twinkle across the floor like stars. You can’t see the real stars up in the sky, but you make do with the high-rises lighting up the horizon. Cars beep and blare their horns stories below you. This sweet symphony fills the cold, empty hotel room like a lullaby. However, it isn’t really empty. You’re there, staring out across the Manhattan skyline. Kai’s there, just there behind a closed door in the bathroom. Bare only for the comforting hot water of the shower he was in. He’s there, racing through your thoughts like always. Around and around; an ever-looping track of vice. This boy, your friend, your bandmate, driving you crazy just by standing beyond a wall.

This isn’t exactly how you imagined spending a night in New York City. The rest of the boys took full advantage of the free night. Taehyun had wanted to explore, last you heard he was in Time Square. Beomgyu and Yeonjun had gone out to get some dinner and god only knows where they ended up, now five hours later.

Soobin, on the other hand, was the reason you ended up in this position. Having approached you after your radio show taping and apologetically begging you to let him have the single hotel room for the night. And how could you say no? You cared for your members, and your leader especially seemed like he could use a night with just himself. He was probably spread-eagle on the hotel bed, 5-steps deep into his skincare routine right now, and watching whatever show he’s been raving about for the past week; probably having the time of his life. However, when you agreed to give up your room, you failed to think about the implications. You didn’t consider that you’d now be rooming with whoever Soobin had left behind. You didn’t even think about how he usually roomed with Hueningkai. Not a single thought passed through your head, except sweet old sympathy for your leader. Now, you were considering disavowing kindness for the rest of your life because of where that nice gesture landed you.

You heard the water shut off in the bathroom like the final clock strike right before midnight. Face embarrassingly hot, you keep your back to the door as it opens. New light slants across the floor, fluorescent and harsh. It mingles with the soft rush of humidity into the room and claws at your pajamas. Begging you to turn, to look, to face the perpetual inhabitant of your dreams. You tried to ignore the way your heart sped up simply hearing him shuffle around behind you. Still, your blood ran hotter, building up in your cheeks and neck.

You’ve had your fair share of innocent crushes over time, including the one you’ve harbored for Huening over the past 4 years. However, none ever left you feeling like this. This disoriented, this flustered, this desperate despite actively trying to dismantle your feelings for months now. He’d manage to send you tumbling back down, head over heels, in one quick night. Just the thought of his voice, the way the words came to him so easily, kept you spiraling.

The night’s high spirits had long settled down. Celebrating the start of your world tour with drinks and food had kept the mood quite energetic. Now, spread out on the dorm floor, nursing a half-empty soju bottle, you find yourself prattling off to silence.

“Sooo…what are you guys most excited for in America?”

Yeonjun snorts from the couch above you, “You sound like every American interview we do.”

“Okay, well…you can be like 100% completely honest with me.”

“I wanna try some cool food and drinks or something.” Beomgyu jumps in, “Like the themed ones from specialty bars that people always post.”

The oldest hums in agreement, “It would be pretty nice to go out one night.”

“We’re in New York for a few days, I’m pretty sure we have an open night there.” Soobin pipes in, curled up in the couch corner.

“Maybe I’ll go visit the Lego store.”

A sudden chorus of laughter erupts at your words. Struggling to sit up, you frown at all the amused faces now in view.

“What’s so funny, assholes?”

“Y/nnie, you should get out more.” The words coming from Beomgyu were almost hypocritical.

“You’re one to talk! And, yeah, that’s why I’d go shopping.”

“We mean, like, get out and meet people. A different country is a great place for that, especially for us.” Taehyun sits in an armchair taking a slow sip from his can, “Go out, have a fun night, and just make sure they sign an NDA afterwards.”

Another round of laughter strikes up and it dawns on you what they’re actually talking about. Your face feels hot and a pout stretches on your lips.

“You guys all suck! I told you, it’ll happen when it happens.” You cross your arms, almost whining like a child, “Why don’t you ever tease Huening about this? I’m not the only virgin in the group!”

Yeonjun snorts, “Damn, way to throw Kai under the bus.”

“Wait, no,” You frantically turn your head around to his seat behind you. “Huening, I didn’t mean-”

He breaks a small smile, “It’s okay, Y/n, I get what you meant.”

“We’re, like, virginity pals.” You stupidly bump your shoulder into his which elicits a very awkward laugh.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

Beomgyu is quick to the draw, immediately beginning to ramble on about his latest meet-up with Jeongin. You don’t get a chance to catch much of it as lips brush along your ear.

“You know, if you ever want to fix that, you can just ask me.” His voice is low and even, his breath leaves goosebumps along your neck. The words swim up and around your head, wiping away some of the haze; snapping you into a brief sense of clarity to process what he just said. You feel your heart almost sputter to a stop. Unable to choke out a response, you turn to look at him only to find cold air. Huening is up and away in the kitchen getting another drink, leaving you alone and flustered. Caught in his words’ web like a helpless fly.

They’ve been plaguing you since their utterance 5 days ago. Orbiting your brain like an ever-present moon. Driving you so far up the proverbial wall that, once you come back down, you will surely die on impact. You’ve never felt this confused, wondering if he meant what he said, if he even remembered it. Perhaps you were driving yourself insane over something inconsequential to him. How were you going to survive this night?

“You wanna watch a movie?”

So easily, he has you trapped. You have to face him, face this, and act completely normal. Act like your thoughts haven’t been full of him; the things you’d let him do to you and the things you’d do to him in return. Act like the way water drips from the edges of his hair, tracing his bare collar, isn’t driving you mad. Wet spots decorate the thin, white shirt stretched across his shoulders. It sticks to the vaguely visible skin trailing down his torso. A pair of sweatpants hang dangerously low off his hips, you struggle to bring your eyes away back up to his face. There his face is soft, head tilted and eyes crinkled, expecting an answer. You want to shrivel beneath his sweet gaze.

“I-um, yeah, sure. W-what movie?”

“Oh, I don’t really know. I was just going to see what’s streaming, maybe order some room service.” He drops a laptop onto his bed. Crawling atop the sheets, he flips it open and looks back at you. Waiting, expectant. His hand softly pats the duvet beside him and you have nowhere to run.

The sheets are standard fare for a hotel and the mattress is stiff as you sit. You’re practically almost hanging off the edge trying to keep a safe distance from Kai. If your skin so much as brushed his, you’d be broken. You weren’t willing to risk bumping knees. If he thinks it odd, he doesn’t say anything. Looking at the screen, he’s now scrolling through a bunch of movie options. Title after title flys by. Two of his fingers push along the mouse pad. The muscles of his hand twitch with every movement; veins shifting, knuckle tucking in and out. From fingertip to wrist his hands are huge, probably enough to completely cover your face. His fingers especially, are very long, so thin-cut and delicate. It can only make you wonder just how deep they could reach. If he knew how to really use them.

You feel your brain melting into a cesspool of depravity the longer you’re around him. Squeezing your eyes tight, the thoughts barely dissipate. Although, you’re granted a small peace as he picks your mind with something else.

“How about Spider-man?”

“Hm?” Peeking back at the screen, his cursor had landed on a Spider-Verse movie. Although, you didn’t really know which one. Your head feels so cotton-stuffed, you simply nod without a thought. So he clicks on the card to play. Opening credits roll in and you fall further into the static. This movie should’ve been the perfect distraction, something exciting and enjoyable. However, the soft heat of the boy curled beside you permeates your skin like a fever. It’s no use, you can’t fight the speed of your heart. The blood rush through your ears takes up everything in the room. Eyes, laser focused to the laptop screen, yet mind somewhere far away. So far you don’t notice the sound of the movie stopping suddenly.

“Y/n?”

Kai’s knee softly bumps yours as he faces you. It’s like a lightning strike right to the chest. Heartbeat rocketing, your words get jumbled. “Wha-um-what?”

“I…Is something wrong? Did I do something?” He avoids eye contact, hands twisting up.

“N-no, no-um, Huening…what’s up?”

“I just…I feel like you’ve kinda been avoiding me? His eyes slowly drag up to your face. “Like, you won’t even look at me.”

All you can hear is the blood rushing over your chest and cheeks, it’s all you can see as well. Kai’s eyebrows are knit together in an expression that should not be nearly as hot as your overdriven brain thinks it is. The words jumble up in your throat, a 4-year confession and a week-long confessional-in-the-making. Your brain goes blank. Everything seems to spill out.

“I-I’m not…upset. I’m-Kai-it’s um, just…do…do you remember that conversation we had…like the night of the first show?” Your stomach twists, ready to eat itself up in embarrassment.

“Um, maybe…” His eyes flit around as if trying to grasp the memory from the air. Brows draw in tighter before he stills. A chill settles between you two. His face explodes in Saharan heat. “Oh god.”

The realization fills up the room with its horrible heated mortification. Your head hangs, guilt pooling in your lap.

“Oh-oh god, Y/n, I’m so sorry! I’m so so sorry! I should’ve never said that, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry-”

“No-no, you-you didn’t. I just-” You bury your head in your hands. Your cheeks burn the skin like a radiator, your heart feels like a supernova. The room is caving in on you. This wall you’d built up, a protective shell around your fragile heart, crumbled. The words taste sour on your tongue. “Did…did you mean it…what you said?”

Silence sinks into your bones, shriveling under the weight of your humiliation. You can’t bring yourself to look at Huening. You want to run, hide, jump off the roof, but you're stuck to the mattress; to the darkness of your eyes; to his sharp intakes of air.

“I did.” An angry red flush covers his face and a pillow now covers his lap. His voice and eye contact remain steady, nonetheless.

The room is too small, too hot. You need to crawl out of your skin and cool off, but the words just keep coming.

“S-so…if I wanted to-um-take you up on your offer…”

Your hands fist the sheets fitfully, you can’t meet his eyes beneath the weight of your shame. This is all you have thought about for the past week, and, suddenly living in your fantasy, you feel like a creep.

The touch of soft fingertips brushing over your jaw jolts to your already frayed nerves. He turns your gaze up to his. Something deep and unfamiliar has settled in his eyes; a darkness that bores right down into that depraved nest in your heart.

Somehow, his voice keeps calm, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please-“ You can't finish the word before you’re silenced. Smooth, honey plush lips blanket yours, like something out of a daydream. The first sensation to hit is his taste: mint toothpaste and vanilla chapstick; you have to fight the urge to bite at his lip for more. Your crossed-knees touch, bodies leaning forward to meet in the middle. Your noses knock and bump awkwardly before you settle into a rhythm. He borders an intense line between inexperienced eagerness and hesitant care. Keeping your hands firm at your sides, unsure how to move, he runs his fingers up and over your arms, coaxing them to cradle the nape of his neck. In turn, he does the same.

He unravels you. The rigid rod holding back your shoulders dissipates; fingers curl into the soft, still damp hair at the base of his neck. A sigh pulls at your lips as you lose yourself to this building heat. Slowly, inhibition slips away. You find yourself moving with an unprecedented fervor. Kai leans further into you, tilting your head back to his will, nails scratching deftly at your scalp. A conflicting pain trembles over your skin, swirling with an untapped pleasure until the two are indistinguishable. He pulls a jolting gasp from your chest. The sound which follows, you can only categorize as embarrassing. A strangled sort of noise; something long built-up, catching in your throat and struggling out in a breathy whine. Your face flares up, you wanna disappear as Kai pulls away slightly. Softly, his breath hitches. Creaking open your eyes, you’re met with a sight that almost drags the sound out again.

Kai’s eyes, half-lidded and dark, bore down on you, haloed with pink, heated cheeks. His lips are kiss-bitten red and glossy. A wet dream come true. You tug him back to your lips, a new heat building in the kiss.

You aren’t sure who makes the first move, who bites first, but when his tongue pushes up against yours, you succumb fully to this new feeling filling you up. An unfamiliar greed beats in your chest, a rabid craving for more. More and more sounds mingle between both of you, unabashedly. With every sweet whine of Kai’s, the hunger grows. Your fingers tug at his hair, his press hard into your waist. Air is inconsistent and unnecessary.

“Kai-” Lips keep moving against yours. “More.”

“Can I-”His hands fumble around your waist a bit, mouth still keeping in time. “Your shirt.”

You begin nodding without even thinking about it. Finally, you break from each other. His hands hike your shirt up your chest before you peel the rest off. You move to do the same for him but he’s already ahead of you. His shirt comes up and over his head before being tossed alongside yours. The porcelain skin of his chest lays out before your eyes. Heart beat picking up, you trace each ridge and jut and mole back up to meet his gaze, one just as entranced as you are.

As your lips meet again, they move with much more care. Something deep and unspoken swimming on your lips and stirring up your chest. Fingers drift gently over freckles and goosebumps running up both your sides. Your back melts into the mattress; Huening’s intoxicating touch burning up your brain. His hands glide up and circle your chest softly. Brushing the sensitive, supple skin, more whimpers tumble out. Your hands copy his, nails dragging faintly down his soft stomach. His lips shudder against yours, breathing groans over your tongue. Knees sit on either side of your hips, keeping Kai’s body hovering precariously over you. The tantalizing promise of his weight above you draws your fingers lower. Just a fingertip dipping into the waistband of his sweatpants. The hitch in his breath is slight.

The kiss disconnects once again as you look at each other, drinking in the sight. His hair mused back wildly and eyes blown wide, a million emotions fly between you. Keeping your eyes locked, that curious hand of yours hesitantly slips from its place. Pulling out of Kai’s waistband, it snakes atop the fabric, coming to cup the prominent bulge beneath it. Your heart stutters at the heavy feeling of him in your hand. Kai’s eyes widen infinitesimally. Your curious fingers squeeze softly and you watch as the last bits of his composure crumble. Head dropping into your neck, his moan is guttural and desperate. His hips buck further into your palm and it becomes incredibly apparent just how big he is

“God-y/n, please…” The desperation with which he speaks your name, the whine and groan and guttural need pouring from his throat, finally breaks you.

For a moment, the only thought running through your head is how quickly you can get his sweatpants off. He seems to be thinking the same as his fingers pluck at your own waistband. However, as you’re about to give in, something stops you.

“Kai…” Embarrassment floods your face, “Do you…have a condom?”

His eyes widen, jaw dropping softly. A subtle red paints his cheeks as he slowly crawls off your body.

He awkwardly shuffles over to his bag on the floor before pulling out a small box of condoms. “I-I wasn’t, like, planning on using them. Or anything…Yeonjun-hyung put them in my bag…”

“Well, thank god for Yeonjun, I guess.”

Laughter eases the embarrassed tension as he rips open the packaging. Although he hesitates to take out the latex. You eye the clothes still covering both your bottom halves.

“I-I can…take mine off first. If you want?”

He matches your gaze, moving back towards the bed, “Are you-Do you want this? Like, 100%?”

“Yes.” Your head nods before you can even think about it, “Yeah, I-I do. Do you?”

“Yes.”

Leaning up, your lips meet his in a soft, sweet kiss. You slowly take his hand in yours and move it back down to your hip, to the bare skin beneath your waistband. Then, you tug your shorts down with his fingers. Finally, fully unclothed, you muscle through the timidity to open your eyes. The pure reverence in his face nearly calms your beating heart.

“Kai, please. Touch me.”

Huening makes quick work of his own bottoms. They pool at his ankles though your eyes are glued to the way his cock smacks against his stomach. He rolls the smooth latex down his skin and your eyes follow with a shiver. Even with little-to-no frame of reference, you’re all too aware that he’s big. Standing at the edge of the bed, towering over you, he is just as entranced with you as you are with him. Any room for embarrassment melts away into an unrelenting need.

You yank him back and his lips messily onto yours; tongues mingling and meshing. His fingers wisp up your bare thighs, sparking a lingering electricity. Your mouth lands on his neck with kisses and kitten licks. The breathy groan you pull from him with a soft bite sounds like heaven. Hands move further toward the inside of your thighs, brushing over your core. He fumbles for a moment before you reach to take his hand in yours. Awkwardly, you guide two slender fingers up to your clit, starting them in a circle motion. Your back arches into the feeling, head sinking into the pillows. Huening watches your reactions diligently, slowly gaining more confidence in his movements. The fingers slip away from the nub as one of them trails down to cautiously push into you. It takes a moment for the odd stretch to settle and melt into pleasure, but as your hips buck into his hand, Kai takes the hint. He uses his thumb to keep circling your clit while experimentally curling two fingers against your walls. This foreign pleasure is overwhelming and not enough.

“I-is this okay?”

Your voice feels stuck so you nod enthusiastically, eyes screwed tight. Fingernails dig into Kai’s scalp as you frantically pull him back to your lips. You work your tongue over his lips and onto his. Running your teeth down his jaw into the juncture of his neck, you litter the skin with soft bites. Lost in the pleasure, your movements feel crazed; desperate. That ever-looming climax is so close yet so far. You need it, like oxygen.

“Need more. Need you, please-please, Hyuka-”

Emptiness only fuels your desperation. Kai’s hips shift squarely over yours as his hand moves up between your bodies. His hard cock brushes your oversensitive thighs; the fog in your mind thickens. In the haze, you take Huening’s, now messy, hand into your mouth, licking over the fingers and tasting yourself on them. They tickle at the back of your throat, freeing a pleased hum.

Kai’s poor cock twitches against your leg and his chest stutters as you keep two lidded eyes on his. The fingers slip from your lips with a slight pop. His agape mouth falls onto yours, devouring your taste on your own tongue. That spit-slick hand guides his weeping tip down through your folds. It catches on your clit and teases your entrance. A gasp breaks your mouths apart. Kai’s fluttering breaths paint your cheeks.

“I-I’m gonna…can I…?”

“Hyuka, just fuck me. Please.”

“Oh-okay-uh, tell-tell me when to move.”

With a deep breath, his hips begin pushing into yours. The stretch sets in; a fire rippling between your legs. Like being ripped apart while still getting stitched back together. A contradicting pain, spreading slowly with Kai’s hesitation. He breathes sickly sweet whimpers into your ears and cradles your hands with his. They mingle in the sheets; an echo of heaven. It’s nearly enough to distract you from the pain as he bottoms out.

“F-fu-shit-ah…you-you’re so…” His forehead hits your shoulder, punctuated with fluttering kisses. “…amazing.”

Pain subsides steadily in a flurry of sensations. The excruciating stretch melting into numbing pleasure. Kai’s touch and affection; everything about him surrounding you everywhere. His heat pressed into your skin, his breath mixed with yours, your hearts beating in tandem as you join completely. You are full of him, of love for him, of need for him. Like you’ve pushed all the air out of your body to make more room for him. Every part of you yearns for everything he has to give.

“Kai-god-” You gasp out. “Y-you can move.”

Shakily, he draws his hips back. You feel every ridge and vein run along inside you. And when he pushes back in, your chests shudder in unison; moans and groans filling the hotel room. He continues slowly; falling into overwhelming pleasure. It muddles your thoughts and weighs down your tongue. And—when Kai’s sloppy thrusts settle into an eager, consistent pace—it numbs your mind in ecstasy.

The room devolves into heady grunts and sharp whines echoing in your ears. A mantra of his name builds—a plead, an oath, a prayer—spilling from your heart, coating your lips. Huening answers the call, swallowing your desperation with his own. You lose yourselves in each other. In the heat of your skin and lips meeting recklessly again and again. You need him closer, deeper; filling up your lungs and pumping through your veins. He wants more. Fingerprints and hickeys litter their way down your body at his discretion. His teeth sink in your shoulder, your nails scratch down his back. It’s instinctual and awkward, yet perfect.

The whirlwind in your stomach grows stronger, closer and closer to imploding. You felt yourself teetering, standing on the edge of an unfamiliar precipice. With his breath and pace picking up, it seemed Kai was right there as well. His hand detached from its bruising placement on your hip. Moving his thumb over your clit in deft circles, an extra jolt of pleasure arcs up your spine.

“K-kai, there-please, please, please.” His name tumbles out in whimpers, as does to yours from his lips.

“F-fuck-close-I’m-” A shudder runs through his body, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. His finger keeps tight to your clit. Your lips clash as the bubble between you pops.

White explodes behind your eyelids. Mind-numbing pleasure fills your every limb. You’re floating on bliss like you’ve never experienced and everything else falls away. Except for Kai. He surrounds you, he fills your lungs and makes you whole. His weak whimpers and moans trail off in your ears like the sounds of heaven. His hips keep moving, stopping jerkily as pleasure seeps into overstimulation. Kai’s arms buckle trying to keep his full body weight off you. He rolls off of you, landing on his back.

Silence fills the air in the aftermath. You exchange heavy breaths, staring off at the ceiling. As the high slowly fades, so does the fog in your head. Realization settles sharp in your bones. Dread and elation stir in your stomach, brewing a dangerous cocktail of words.

“I like you.”

Huening sits up a little, “Huh?”

“I…god, I’m so sorry-” You pull yourself up and look back down at the man, turning the words over in your head until they spill out. “Kai, I really really like you…I have for the past 4 years! And I know this is probably a horrible time to be saying this, but I just…I don’t want this to ruin us or-or the group and I-”

“Y/n! Y/n…” He pulls your hands into his. A bright smile splits his cheeks, shining on your face. “I really like you too.”

Air collapses in your chest, soft and scared. “…R-really?”

His eyes shine and melt into raspberry cheeks with an eager nod. “I didn't mean for it to come out like this, but…”

“Maybe you should get tipsy more often.” Both of you spill over with giddy giggles. A brand new kind of ecstasy fills up your chest, beating in time with Kai’s heart.

“Maybe…”

Your heartbeat speeds, building with each passing second as you look at Huening. Sweet chocolate eyes you could drink in, overindulge, and just never stop. And they look right back at you with the same adoration that’s pumping through your veins.

“I’ll, uh, go get a towel so we can clean up.” Kai shifts off bed, disappearing into the bathroom to discard the condom. He returns with a warm towel, as promised, and begins to gently wipe up your thighs, staying cautious around your still-sensitive folds. The heat soothes some of the worse marks littering your skin, combined with Kai’s delicate kisses over them.

After he works his way up, he ends with your lips. You move in harmony, swapping sweet giggly pecks, fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces. The way his hands cradle your cheeks—all encompassing, trapping their heat—feels like home. Neither of you can contain the joy flooding your faces with huge smiles. They remain even as he pulls away.

“Can we still finish that movie?”

“Sure, hyuka.”

Peace fills the space between you. Love wrapping around and around, building and keeping you safe in its embrace. The world melts away leaving only this room, this moment, the breaths shared between you, the heat of your bare skin melding into his. Curling together beneath the sheets, you bask in it; this revelation of reciprocated love. For a moment, nothing exists beyond you and Kai among the Manhattan skyline.

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean–it’s nice,” Kon says, smiling just as helplessly into his collar and keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as they walk. “Just, you know, it’s not the kinda stuff you usually get me. Like–it’s just, you know–pretty, or whatever. It’s not for anything. Like, I can’t wear it for you and it’s not, you know, food or a game or anything.” 

Tim did not actually realize that he hadn't bought Kon anything that didn't count as “useful” yet, though given the video games and candy and jewelry he's pretty sure they just have different definitions of what “useful” actually is. Also he needs to take a moment to not burn alive over Kon saying the phrase “wear it for you” again, which definitely takes the full moment, because Jesus Christ. 

That has not gotten any less affecting, yeah. 

“Oh, I guess,” he says in his best imitation of a normal person's normal voice. “I didn't really think about that. I just thought you might like it, so I got it for you.” 

Kon somehow finds a new shade of red to turn that honestly might actually be a Kryptonian-related one, considering the intensity of it. It is, unfortunately, cute as fuck. 

“I mean, I do like buying you clothes and stuff, obviously. You look really nice in that outfit, for one,” Tim says, and Kon glances away again, still smiling helplessly and still just as red-faced. He really does blush so easy. It’s weird, Tim thinks, given how much flirting he does. But maybe Kon’s just the “can dish it out but can’t take it” type, he guesses. 

Alternately, maybe people just aren’t complimenting him as often as he deserves and he's not used to hearing it. 

. . . Tim makes a mental note to pencil in some affirmations in Young Justice’s next training session and also to buy Kon even more flowers than he was already planning to. Flowers that come with little hand-written cards that say nice things about him, specifically. 

“You better think I look nice in it, pretty boy,” Kon says, biting his lip around another grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me all fancied up.” 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked the crop top too,” Tim allows, and Kon bursts into laughter and then lets go of his jacket collar and just–beams at him, actually. Just–literally actually beams, brighter than anything in Gotham that doesn’t run on electricity. 

Tim manages not to step off the sidewalk into traffic by Robin-reflexes alone and literally nothing else. 

Jesus, that expression. 

“I like, uh–that,” Kon says, and then blushes a little darker again. “Um–I mean, I like that you, uh . . . like to get me stuff you think I look good in. Uh. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding weird, fuck, just–just I like it.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. The warehouse district in his brain is a lost cause; the fire has officially spread to the docks and across downtown. His mental Gotham is going the way of 1871 Chicago, he’s pretty sure. “Uh–um, good. I’m glad.” 

“It’s just, um–I dunno, it’s just nice to look nice for somebody,” Kon murmurs a little bit shyly, tugging his jacket collar up over his mouth again but still obviously smiling behind it. Tim isn’t sure if that’s a line of thought he should be concerned by after the kind of things Kon was saying earlier, if–“Instead of, you know. For everybody.” 

. . . Tim decides that actually, never mind the concern. Kon can look as good for him as he wants to, if what Kon’s used to is being stuck having to look good for some stupid ad campaign or magazine shoot or what the frick ever. And like–it’s not like he has a problem with Kon wanting to wear things he thinks he’ll like. That is pretty much the opposite of a problem for him, in fact. 

It probably explains the makeup, too. There were definitely not any ad campaigns with glitter eyeliner or nail polish involved. 

. . . not that Tim’s seen all the ad campaigns or anything, just–

Alright, fine, he’s seen all the ad campaigns. That’s just Bat SOP, alright? And definitely only Bat SOP.

[silantryoo]

ENCHANTED [ WRITTEN ] — a nice day

the first meeting

WARNINGS: implications of stalking, mild self-objectification, implied trauma (2.4k)

y/n knew what she was doing was incredibly stupid.

she wasn't born with the cautiousness that alluded her mom. she was just as reckless, if not more. y/n could've changed her last name when her mom gave her the chance to, but she chose to wear it like a badge instead. she could've moved to the states with her uncle like he wanted, but she chose to stay right here with her mom.

she knew she was reckless, she knew she was stupid.

y/n had to be, considering she wanted to be in the industry that stole her mom away.

"what am i doing...?"

y/n looked at herself in the mirror. her eyes, dark and dull, swirled with their usual anxiety and fear as if anticipating the worst. she felt it all over her body - her head and chest heavy.

there were only two outcomes to this: kazuha was actually an idol that looked like moomin, or kazuha was a thirty-year-old man trying to catch a scoop on her mother.

(y/n didn't know why, but the possibility of kazuha being kazuha made it worth the risk.)

"mom is gonna kill me."

she was pathetic.

it was funny actually. being stood up by a stranger shouldn't have hurt as much as being stood up by her mom, but y/n could feel her lungs closing in on themselves as she waited.

each moment she waited, she felt like she was wilting. like a cold, harsh winter had taken refuge inside her, never settling down. the air she breathed was frost, and her delicate lungs were always on the verge of collapsing.

y/n looked at her phone. kazuha (or whoever it was) was twenty minutes late.

"i'm gonna kick minji's ass."

maybe it was a sign from the universe, that she needed to haul her ass out of there that instant. perhaps the adorably bright-eyed idol she thought was real was actually just a loser reporter with a microphone shoved up their ass and a notebook in hand.

y/n fiddled with her mask, the hot air hitting her eyes.

she's not upset that kazuha probably ditched her. no, of course not. kazuha was an idol, and if she knew anything about them, they were always in it for money and fame. granted, her friends were almost all idols and weren't like that but still.

she wasn't upset, really.

the breeze blew a bit too hard, the trees rustling in the wind as leaves tumbled pathetically onto the ground. y/n could hear the soft chirping of a bird around her, drowned out by the cars. the sun hid like everything in her life did, yet today, it still gave her the comfort she needed.

it was a nice day to be disappointed.

"y/n?" the voice was pretty, soft like snow, but warm like a fireplace. "you're y/n, right?"

a strong grip, one from trained hands.

y/n opened her eyes, her head tilting up to look at the woman in front of her.

the woman had a smile drawn like the cartoons, big and expressive and apologetic. she seemed out of breath, her hair tousled and cheeks flushed like she had been running. and her eyes...

she does look like moomin.

"kazuha?"

kazuha perked up at the sound of her name. she felt a cold shiver run along her spine, like a chilly gust of wind during fall.

"yeah, uh, sorry i'm so late!" kazuha cleared her throat as best as she could, trying not to sound too out of breath. "my unnie was helping me get dressed, then my other members came in and started using me as a barbie doll. i actually almost came with this really weird hat that looked like an angry bird."

plain dark eyes stared back into kazuha's. the idol could barely see them, hidden behind the shadow of her baseball cap.

actually, kazuha waited to approach her for a couple minutes, unsure that this random girl dressed in all black with a cap and mask on was actually the one she was supposed to meet.

the idol looked her over once more, ignoring the inkling of disappointment at not being able to see her entire face.

(she'd still brag to the rest of le sserafim - mostly chaewon - that y/n did exist.)

silence took over the two still strangers(?), the sound of the wind and the singular bird in the distance filling the empty space. the sun begins to shine a bit brighter, the sound of cars approaching in the distance.

kazuha takes another look at the shorter girl in front of her.

"why are you dressed as batman?"

"huh?"

kazuha froze, not meaning to say the words she just said.

sakura had told her to not let yunjin be near her before her meet-up with y/n. she had a tendency to copy their mannerisms when she was nervous, and the more she was exposed to it...

the wind blew harder.

"nothing." her ears rang as her cheeks burned. "never mind."

kazuha was definitely gonna explode once she got back to her dorms. she'd probably get chaewon to use a fire extinguisher on her, or maybe eunchae to dump a bag of ice on her head. hopefully, they wouldn't make too much fun of her for mentioning something nerdy on her date.

wait, this isn't even a date.

the idol looked at the sky, the rays blinding her. in that moment, she wished to be a leaf, blown away to (hopefully) a different continent. somewhere like japan would be nice, that way she could run to her parents and talk about the atrocious not-date she had that lasted five minutes. her dad would probably make her onigiri with too much rice in it like usual. speaking of rice, she needed to remind chaewon to stop eating all of her-

"were you talking about...?" y/n pointed to her mask, kazuha's eyes snapping back onto the girl in front of her. "oh, this is just a precaution."

it was the least y/n could do, considering she put her mom's career in danger again.

"oh." thoughts swirled inside kazuha's head, a long list of possibilities, both out of reach and self-deprecating. "for what?"

the two stared at each other, waiting for an answer to be spoken. yet, as reckless as the young kwon was, she wasn't stupid. sure, she met up with a random person on the internet that she met three weeks ago. maybe she did it because she thought the random girl claiming to be an idol was cute. and yeah, she did meet this stranger in a secluded park but regardless.

a secret was something you'd take to the grave.

y/n cleared her throat, a twisted sort of guilt stirring in her chest.

"let's go get food."

she walked off, the clouds following her every step along with the idol beside her. her legs moved as if they had a purpose, yet the only thing on her mind was who her blood belonged to.

it belonged to the kwon's, for one. her grandparents, her uncles, her mom. she was their little flower, their princess. the prized possession hidden from sight, enough to be valued but never to be spoken of. she wasn't the black sheep by any means, but more like a dog in a wolf pack.

then, there was the media. dispatch and sbs and whatever news outlet was out there with her description. to them, kwon y/n was a rumor, the headline of the biggest scandal of the kpop industry. her blood was ivory to them - a rare, heafty bounty with fame to spare.

y/n wondered what it would be like to belong to herself, or at least to someone who wouldn't hide her.

"you're prettier in real life." kazuha spoke, looking at the ground with her lips pursed.

this was awkward. the last ten minutes were filled with the sounds of daytime seoul - honking cars and mindless chatter around them. it gave kazuha ample time to check out look at the younger girl beside her, like one of yunjin's creepy dates from the stories she told.

"you can barely see me."

"i mean, yeah, but like..." kazuha hoped she wasn't being creepy. "y'know?"

y/n nodded, going back to whatever she was thinking before.

kazuha knew she should've brought her '100 jokes in korean' book. she didn't get half of the jokes in them - granted, she didn't get half the jokes she knew in her mother tongue - but as long as y/n was having a good time, kazuha knew she would too.

if only chaewon didn't confiscate it...

"so, uh..." kazuha cleared her throat. "you go to hanlim?"

the shorter girl stopped in her tracks, looking at the idol. her blood froze in her veins like a cold tundra had washed over her being.

"...how do you know that?"

her tone was thin and sharp, a blade ready to cut into the nearest enemy. y/n's eyes now gleamed with hostility, her plain irises now alert like a cat.

"in the photo." kazuha didn't know what was going on, but she was sure she messed up just now. "the photo you sent to me? your blazer. uh, the crest?"

the idol's hands moved around flimsily, drawing a square-like shape near her chest.

oh.

y/n was an idiot.

"i thought i covered that."

but then again, y/n was too busy trying to find a good-looking picture of her. considering that jinsol and hana kept taking photos of her annoying the shit out of jungwon, it was safe to say that her options were limited.

"you didn't."

the two continued to walk, the air feeling light through y/n's chest. her fingers buzzed with the knowledge that kazuha knew more than y/n wanted her to, running up her arm and sitting on her throat like poorly tightened tie.

her mom was going to ground her for the rest of eternity, if she found out, of course.

"are you okay?" kazuha's voice stumbled in her ears, clumsy yet caring. "uh, you look like you're gonna pass out."

"yeah, i'm fine." the younger girl took a breath, the light breeze carrying the smell of freshly grown petals.

y/n's head snapped towards the scent, her eyes zeroing in on the stand. mismatched bouquets littered the wooden shelves, mostly pastels, yet all eye-catching.

"you like flowers?"

"yeah." y/n didn't realize she was walking towards the stand until she was face to face with a pretty pink flower. "my mom, she would give me the ones she got all the time."

her hand moved on its own, gripping an out-of-place flower from the rest of the tulips. it looked weirdly valuable, its stem delicately wrapped in parchment paper and its petals free of dust. on the front, a sticker of '₩80000' was pinned neatly.

y/n took a sniff, the soft alluring scent nothing like she smelt before.

it was different from the roses and tulips and carnations, like a lone blackbird in a sea of swans.

"what does it smell like?"

kazuha leaned over slightly, her shadow blocking the bright sun just enough to shield y/n.

y/n hummed, rubbing the petals between the pads of her fingers.

"peaches."

the younger girl held the flower up for kazuha to take in, the idol's eyes wide with hesitation. the leaves and debris tumbled beneath them, the wind blowing strong for a moment before calming down.

kazuha leaned her head lower.

peaches.

"you two better not wreck that flower!" the two jolted up, y/n rushing to it back. "do you know how expensive that is?!"

kazuha stared wide-eyed, suddenly stiff like a tree.

a couple months after she debuted, she had already gotten in trouble? surely, this would be a scandal, and all the hard work she and the rest of the girls did would be overturned.

beside her, y/n stared at the broken stem.

"oh shit."

the old woman walked closer, her eyes burning as her precious (and overpriced, y/n thought) flower was no longer its usual pristine self. it had snapped under the pressure y/n had given it.

but she wasn't gonna pay more eighty thousand won for a single flower.

y/n grabbed kazuha's wrist.

"run."

the woman got closer, grabbing what seemed to be a rolled-up wad of newspaper.

"maybe we should apologiz–"

it wasn't the first time y/n got an ajumma mad.

"run!"

kazuha prided herself on being athletic. aside from being an idol, the japanese girl had a strict regimen that she had perfected during her years of ballet. it took blood, sweat, and tears to perfect, and not once did she doubt her abilities, not even next to the almost equally versed huh yunjin.

still, she had never needed to outrun the media.

the taller girl could feel herself being dragged along as the loud cussing of the older woman faded behind them. she could barely keep up, if not the wind pushing them along.

was this how birds felt like? she thought.

the two stopped minutes after, nowhere near where the area they agreed to meet up on, and even further from the ajumma then they had realized.

as she stared at the idol, y/n could feel hot air radiating around her.

"i'm gonna get in trouble with management." kazuha managed to puff out, her chest heaving and her hair tousled like before.

"yeah," y/n dropped her mask down to her chin, taking in the air. "you are."

pretty...

the leaves around them rustled, breeze picking up to cool the two off. kazuha could feel her skin losing heat, but her thoughts ran like a hamster on a wheel, thinking about all the possible outcomes from that encounter.

it was probably fine, the general public had no clue who le sserafim was, much less kazuha, that other japanese girl next to the miyawaki sakura.

she was fine, she was-

y/n laughed.

"sorry, sorry!" she couldn't help it. the way kazuha's face twisted in worry was so animated that it made her imagine the older girl as moomin. "just give me a sec."

kazuha broke out into a grin as the pretty girl in front of her laughed and laughed, the ice-cold tension melting off of her in the rays of the sun. the birds chirped in the distance, the lack of honking near them making it loud enough to register in her ears.

it was a nice day today.

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!

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[abyssalzones]

hi!! apologies if this has been asked/answered a million times before, but i'm curious about how you came to be the CEO of transfem stan.. obviously there doesn't need to be a "reason" for any trans hc, i do it myself all the time just for funsies, but i wasn't sure if you had some kind of analysis on or reasoning behind it. i don't think i've seen anyone hc it before and i love your work (art as well as writing) so yeah i wanted to ask!!! have a good one :-)

the CEO ??!?!? jeezzzz that's a lot of responsibility. do I get a desk plaque?

but no, unfortunately I haven't compiled a big work of analysis about this, if I'm honest I was taking a shower and thought absently "haha maybe estrogen would save her". and then started thinking about it a little deeper and went wait a minute. estrogen... WOULD save her.

if you're looking for 'reasoning' as in 'canon evidence', there's a lot of little things you could point to on the surface level: the whole duchess approves thing ("It's just like my life!... in a way"), the senior citizen ponytail kit gag, mullet as a compromise on having long hair (and the implications of having to eventually cut it to "pass" as a male character)... there's probably more but honestly that's not the point to me and not what I care about when it comes to "headcanons". It starts to feel a little goofy pointing at what are mostly jokes and going "look! Evidence!" when the basis I'm working off of is... very much not a joke.

so to tell you the truth, there are a lot of writing reasons why I really like transfem stan as a headcanon: I think it would suit her arc very well, it makes for a very interesting element to throw into her dynamic with ford, it creates a lot of mabel-stan bonding opportunities if you see them both as transfem (which... may or may not be the subject of a comic I'd like to make...), but plain and simple I just think it owns. I like the idea of a 60-something year old egg who starts transitioning after 30 years of pretending to be something she isn't, and can only now begin to have her own identity without shame breathing down her neck.

also butch women are very cool 👍

[katyahina]

The 'haired' helmets are strange..

It IS odd how we get to wear the characters' hairstyles, as it is just really unlikely they're scalps! I suppose the explanation is the same as why we are able to completely change upon looking into a mirror at Roundtable's Hold; as long as the Tarnished is guided by Greater Will, they'll have its aid and be transformed into whatever they see fit to keep carrying on! So I think the implication here is that we do, physically, grow the hair of the demigods (or champions) upon trying to tap on their power! I think if GW abandons a Tarnished, or if they abandon it, they lose this 'ability', which our playable character never does, so..

I am not sure whether it is Maliketh's own long mane or also a decoration! I'd like to think the former, in which case, same logic as with hair of Malenia, Godfrey and Radahn applies! Vargram's "hair" definitely is a decoration, and specifically for the purpose of imitating shadowbeasts:

Ensha's armour goes even further and not only gives us a hairdo, but makes us a skeleton:

We even get his power of slight regeneration, similar to Erdtree's normal powers:

All implications considered, I really doubt that this is just how armour looks, especially considering no change in size. We are not 'wearing' the skull, we ARE the skull now fhhsfd And this time the NPC data inside simply exists because Ensha does use NPC code and mechanics. So, we turn into a corpse! Again, should not matter much since as long as we're carried by GW we don't need to eat or sleep or... anything, really. (I'll also die on the hill of the theory that Ensha was one of the deceased Marika's offspring whose Mausoleum crashed and what was left from him crawled out but that's another story fdhfhds)

Here are other instances of hair simply decorating a helm:

Niall is that one guy we fight in Castle Sol, so similarity in this case ALSO checks out! Also cute idea: what if decoration for the helmets of Godrick's Knights IS his own hair? ;-;

That could also be speculated about Redmane Knights, but I feel like it'd be more appropriate for Godrick's. Radahn would be stingy about his amazing lion mane whereas Godrick can not only take body parts but also give them XDDDD yeah yeah terrible whatever

The black hair on Night Cavalry's helmet can be removed, also confirming that in this case it is a decoration. This hair does have interesting flowing animation though! Maybe it IS the hair of Night Cavalry themselves, still having their shadowy energy, but cut and attached again to their own helmets (kind of like Ciaran from DS1 decorated her helmet with her own braid!)

Another case of hair not being actual hair but part of the mask; the way hair is placed, it'd had to grow from like, eyebrows level and face itself or something fdhfdsdfh Maybe this style with braids and grey hair was intended to refer at Godfrey's? Alternatively, what IF their faces are actually furry/animalistic despite otherwise human build, so the hair doubles as fur? We don't see them behind the mask, after all? A food for a thought lol

^ More of 100% 'mask' types of these

The water dancer in blue gave the sword to Malenia's teacher, the blind guy that once sealed the God of Rot himself, and these warriors in blue appear to be following the same philosophy of "ever running water preventing stagnation, so, rot itself" as him! Although this head piece imitates just a follower and not the man himself (as far as we are aware....), perhaps the sentiment is strong enough to give us the hairdo too x) Again, funny enough, it seems to resemble the Lady of the Lake fairy herself!

I suspected the case of 'sharing hair' with Cleanrot Knights too, but upon closer look I can tell it is supposed to be some fabric/rags, rather than hair or hairlike accessory! Probably more efficient to imitate the look with rags rather than something hairlike tbh, considering the lenght of the thing! So I think the design is more meant to represent Malenia's own unhappy fate, with short tuft being the "hair" and the longer tails being the "wings" :

_______________

In conclusion, it is kind of easy to deduce which hair become our actual hair for the time being because of golden grace 'reshaping' us and which hair is just decor! But it is really interesting stuff to think about all the way!

[thedinosapien]

Theory: Brooklynn talked to N5 before leaving

The finale leaves many things implied or even confusing – in a way that makes it seem like something happened, especially between the scenes where Ben warns Brooklynn about the Bumpy's egg in the suitcase and the scene where B leaves. I invite you to rewatch the final scene, so it will be easier to understand what I say:

It is implied that Brooklynn had a conversation with the Nublar 5 off-screen, hidden from the viewer. The implications of the scene:

Ben is the one who talks about Bumpy's egg, so he obviously put himself in front of his friends. In the next scene, we see the position of each of the boys and girls: in front, Ben (who talked about the egg in the case), behind him, Darius and lastly, Kenji, then we have Sammy in ahead of Yasmina. Keep Brooklynn's reaction finding out about the egg in mind, I'll talk about it later.

Although Ben asks for the egg, the one who has it in his hands in the last scenes is Kenji. It's not Ben, who loves Bumpy more than anyone, or Darius, who is Brooklynn's best friend. She decided to give the egg to Kenji, proving that:

A. Maybe she trusts him more than Ben or Darius (understandable, since Pincus didn't do what she asked and D left her with the Allo, but it would be a bit strange for the scene, don't you agree? After all, Ben is Bumpy's dad);

B. There was more to the scene than what is revealed to the viewer. A conversation, probably.

The only one Brooklynn hadn't seen before in the season was Kenji, so she didn't know about the affection he has for the baby in the shell, that is, she had no reason to choose him, again indicating that there was an exchange of words between the characters.

There is two hypothesis about what must happened:

• Before giving the egg to Ben, he (Kenji) interrupted and demanded to receive it in Ben's place. It would be strange, since one way or another they would already have the egg in hands – in very safe hands –, changing only the fact that it would be with Ben Pincus;

• Or better, Brooklynn took advantage of the great opportunity she had to give essential explanations for the third season: Santos would kill them if she noticed any sign of betrayal on B's part, but with only one egg missing and the promise that none of her "ex-friends" would get in the way of the plan, everything would be safer for Santos. B just had to take advantage of the small gap to tell her friends WHAT she was doing, WHERE she was going and WHY she was going there – remember, the others don't know anything about Sayona's plans. Those informations will be essential for the characters!

It makes sense, doesn't it? After all, part of the arc of Kenji's relationship with the others is that "nobody tells me anything". Having him as the center of the scene, being, somehow, the priority of information, implies a development in his arc and a future advancement in the others' as well.

Note, in the beginning, Kon was the last, but in the end he is the one who is the most ahead of his friends. There really was something.

Now, the final detail that is totally related to Brooklynn's reaction to the egg: Throughout the season she never knew that Bumpy would have a baby. Her reaction reveals that she realized she lost a lot. It's exactly what Earnest said: "You're nothing special [...]. You're never happy with the good thing you've got, right in front of you." This reinforces that Brooklynn's story is about enjoying the things she already has, what she loses with her obsession and what she also has to gain from it. She needs to balance a lot of things in order to finally understand, by herself, what the truly wants and needs.

——————

A stupid theory I posted on reddit and thought it would be nice to post here. Tumblr must be more active, so activity ≃ interaction + addiction/correction for the theory.

I should stop thinking too much abt this show

If it turn out to be totally wrong, I hope you guys don't remember my post lol

[prying-pandora666]

On Ace Attorney and Gay Lawyers

If you know anything at all about Ace Attorney, even only through meme osmosis, then you probably know it’s about two gay lawyers. One blue and one red.

Except it’s not really about that, is it?

Let me preface this with saying that I enjoy WrightWorth as much as the next person and this is in no way against the ship or its fans. Rather, this is more about a wider problem in fandoms when it comes to headcanoning and championing characters as gay when they canonically aren’t, while ignoring actually gay/lesbian/bi/ace characters.

I’ve been frustrated for a while regarding how the most basic and plausibly deniable “queer coding” or “hinting” is taken as highly praised representation for a while. Not only because it teaches entertainment companies that they don’t actually have to give us real representation to make us happy, therefore sticking us with nothing but questionable subtext that can be easily cut out for international releases, but also because it also robs credit from the brave creatives who actually fight for real representation and sometimes pay the price for doing so.

Maybe the “saddled with unnecessary feelings” line from Edgeworth was enough in 2008. After all, gay acceptance still had a long way to go and coding a character was often the best you could get. Both in Japan and the USA.

But it’s well into the 2020s and we have had several Ace Attorney games and spin offs since. So where are all the gay attorneys?

I’m happy to report that we actually did get one!

And then sad to report that he was immediately abandoned and the fandom let it happen with nary a whimper.

It frustrates and depressed me that for a series known for having “gay lawyers”, we only actually got ONE attorney that even approaches actually canonically being same sex attracted and he got practically written away.

It’s Klavier.

For all of the implications and suspiciously-worded subtext with Phoenix and Miles, Phoenix only ever shows interest in women and Miles never shows interest in anyone.

Klavier is the only attorney on either side of the aisle to show canonical queer inclinations (hitting on both Apollo and Ema).

There’s something really disheartening to me about fandom obsessing so hard over two characters who are not canonically gay or in a relationship (not to say there’s anything wrong with shipping them! Just in context with this next part), only to not respond when we finally get a queer prosecutor.

I wish the fandom had reacted more to Klavier being de-emphasized. He really deserved to be fleshed out and explored as much as Miles.

It’s especially upsetting after DD made it clear that Capcom has no intention of ever canonizing WrightWorth out of questionable subtext that’s up to interpretation. For however much we love Miles as gay, Capcom doesn’t see it that way. And the character Capcom was willing to take that risk with, got shoved aside after his first game and promptly forgotten.

(Unrelated, but you know how Miles in DD said he plans to never marry, and Maya in SOJ showed zero romantic interest in Phoenix once reconnecting with him? And yet Miles still showed up for that wedding and Maya tried so hard to catch the bouquet. Inadvertently it almost seemed like they’re hooking up behind Phoenix’ back and they’re both trying to let Phoenix down gently. 😂 At least that’s what my friend who had never played the original trilogy thought was being implied! Cracked me up!)

[honeyedmiller]

Love Me Tender | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety and anxiety attacks, depression, dbf!Joel, love and tender care, tooth-rotting fluff, age gap (Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in their mid 20’s), no outbreak!Joel, Joel helps reader take a bath, implied sexual relations but no smut or anything is mentioned in detail at all, mentions of lack of eating / eating food, no use of y/n. some of the descriptions of depression and anxiety in here may be triggering, so please either proceed w/ caution or ignore this one shot entirely. I love u all so much!

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: after a terrible mental week, joel checks in on you and makes sure you’re taken care of.

based on an anon request.

-

Your dad had been on a work trip all week, leaving you to fend for yourself while you were home alone. Not that you couldn’t particularly do that; you were in your twenties after all.

It’s times like this that you wish he didn’t leave, though. Your mental health had taken a plummet. It started with an anxiety attack that came upon you because you were sure no one was going to hire you, a fresh college graduate, and you’d be a burden to your father for living at home this long.

Your dad was a loving man and never gave any implication that you living back at home would be any problem whatsoever. Your mind was just on constant overdrive and one thing led to another, digging yourself further into a black hole of your overwhelming emotions.

When you usually get into funks like this, you tend to take a walk during the day to let the sun dose you of natural serotonin, but you couldn’t even get yourself to get out of bed lately. You couldn’t shower, couldn’t really eat, and the anxiety attacks were constant. Your mind just kept telling you you’re not good enough, you never will be. Your thoughts snowballed and spiraled from there.

And so, you laid in bed curled into a fetal position as tears streamed down your face. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer your phone that had been ringing on your bedside table, so you simply just ignored it. You’d check in with your dad every day to let him know you were okay, but today, you just forgot.

You heard the front door of your house open, and your fight or flight should’ve been kicking in, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Darlin’? It’s me, Joel.” You heard a voice call, and you relaxed just a little knowing it was just him. You didn’t answer him, but heard his heavy footsteps trudging up the stairs anyway.

You heard a soft knock on your bedroom door, and your muffled sobs are what made Joel come in. His heart shattered at the sight before him. He’s never seen you in such a state, and in this moment, wanted to do anything to help you.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You felt the bed dip on the unoccupied side as Joel sat on it, reaching out to touch your arm gently.

You were so choked up that you couldn’t swallow your own sobs, and you shook your head as you tried to control your breathing.

“Talk to me, honey. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” His voice is gentle as his body maneuvers itself behind you. He’s laying down now and he wraps an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Mental health is shit.” You mumble, trying to calm yourself down. Joel’s touch alone seemed to relax you just a little, so maybe it was a good thing that he was there to check on you. Then you remembered how you haven’t showered for the past four days and how disarrayed your hair must’ve looked, and the bags under your eyes due to lack of sleep. Joel’s only ever seen you dolled up, or with minimal natural makeup on at the least.

You didn’t even want to begin what he thought of you now. He probably wouldn’t even want to touch you after this.

You shake the nasty thought away, finally letting your eyes meet his as he slightly hovers over you. His eyes are full of worry and sadness, because he’s truly never seen you with this pained look in your eyes.

“Why are you here, Joel?” You croak, sniffling abruptly.

“Your dad called me and said you hadn’t been answering your phone and asked me to check in on you. I also wanted to check in personally because you haven’t texted me all week, darlin’. I look forward to your sweet messages.” Joel coos, bringing his hand up to swipe his thumb across your tear-stained cheek.

“Oh.”

“Baby, c’mon. Sit up,” Joel helps you sit up, and you softly whine as you did so. Your head was throbbing from all of the crying you were doing. “Tell me what’s wrong, angel. Why’s it been bad?”

“‘M not good enough.” You managed to hiccup, burying your face in the sleeves of the oversized hoodie you wore.

Joel didn’t say anything at the moment, just let you ride out the waves of your emotions as he held you gently in his arms. After about ten minutes, you moved your sleeves away from your face and looked at him again. Joel tilted your chin up gently, smiling softly at you. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a second.

“You will always be good enough, darlin’.” He knows that his words may have not been super reassuring at the time, but you were grateful that he was trying.

“I’ve just been so stressed lately. Feels like I can’t do anything right in life right now. I’m a mess.” You mumble sadly, looking down at your knotted hands.

“Hey now, don’t say that. You’re doing amazing especially given the cards that you’ve been dealt. This is just a bump in the road, not a dead end.” Joel’s words warmed your heart a little, and you cracked the faintest smile.

“There’s that pretty smile I see wantin’ to shine through. C’mon baby. I know you don’t accept help from anyone and want to do everything on your own, but this doesn’t have to be one of those things. Please let me help you.”

You’d been so adamant about being independent and figuring everything out for yourself, but god, look where your stubbornness got you.

You nod your head slowly, and Joel helps you out of bed. He walks you to your bathroom and draws a warm bath. He helps you take off your sweater and your underwear, guiding you into the tub slowly. You hiss at your sore, achy body as you make contact with the nice warm water. You close your eyes for a second to relish in the feeling of warm comfort.

When you open your eyes again, Joel’s looking at you with concern. Not the usual lust-painted look he has when he sees you naked like this. This time, it was worry, heartbreak, maybe even love.

He tears his eyes away from your face before reaching for your shampoo bottle. He wets your hair then gently massages the shampoo into your scalp, and you close your eyes in a moment of pure bliss. You move your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs.

You suddenly felt super vulnerable in front of Joel as your hazy, clouded mind of emotions started to slowly clear up.

Joel didn’t say anything if he noticed that you were beginning to close yourself off again. He just finished rinsing and washing your hair in silence. He then began to wash your body, gently dragging the sudsy washcloth over your skin. You shuddered at his touch. It was nice to feel it in a way that had no sexual intent.

Once he was done washing your body, he rinsed you off and helped you out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around your body and wrung out your hair. He got the brush from your bathroom counter and brushed your hair out for you, leaving a gentle kiss at the crown of your head when he was done.

He ushered you slowly out of the bathroom and back into your bedroom. Your eyes met his through the full body mirror you had, and he gave you a soft smile. He went through your dresser drawers to pull out a clean outfit for you, which was a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt. He gently grabbed the hem of the towel and looked down at you, silently asking for permission. You nodded slowly and he unwrapped the towel from your body.

Your eyes met his through your mirror once more, and he sighed. “You’re so beautiful, angel. I really hope you know that.” He kissed your bare shoulder. His words were sincere, and the look in his eyes told you that he really meant it. He helped you into your sweats and t-shirt, then brought you back to your bed.

“You need sleep, sweetheart. C’mon. I’ll be right here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Joel lays down with you, brushing his fingers through your damp hair.

Your eyes were heavy as you rested your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.

When you woke up, you noticed the sun had gone down. Joel was still underneath you, but his steady breathing assured you he fell asleep himself. It was nice to wake up in his arms, to be comforted like this by a man who was as tough and brooding as Joel.

He had a soft spot for you, and it genuinely warmed your heart.

You shifted your tired eyes to look up at him. He looked so peaceful sleeping; like he didn’t have a problem in the world and the usual furrow in his brow had completely dissipated. He looked younger this way. More carefree.

He must’ve sensed a shift in movement, because his eyes fluttered open and he looked down at you.

“Hey, sweetheart. How do you feel?” He asks, bringing a hand to cup your jaw gently. You give him a soft smile, bringing your own hand up to caress the stubble on his chin. He watched you carefully, wondering what was going through your mind.

“‘M okay. Just got a headache is all.” You said.

“You need to eat, darlin’.”

You nodded in knowing, but the thought of eating seemed so exhausting. You just wanted to sleep. But, you know Joel would put up a fight and make you eat something, even if it was small.

“I know.”

“I can fix something up for you, or we can order your favorite takeout.” He offers, gently bringing his lips to your forehead once more. You’d never felt so much tenderness and care from the man, so the fact that he was being as gentle as he was almost astonished you. You knew he was capable of doing so, but the only person he ever showed this side to was Sarah.

“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is fine.” You reason, hoping he’ll agree. It might’ve not been much, but at least it’s something, right?

“Okay sweetheart. Let me make that for you and I’ll be right back, alright?”

You nod and shift your body so he can maneuver himself from under you to go downstairs and fix you up the sandwich. You laid back on your bed, feeling slightly better. Joel really didn’t need to do all of this for you, yet here he was… taking care of you. The thought nearly made you cry again, but you swallowed the lump in your throat.

You fished your phone off of your nightstand to see three missed calls and five texts from your dad. You sighed and texted him back, letting him know that you were okay and everything was fine. Your dad knew about your battle with anxiety and depression and how it could be sometimes, so as any dad would, he worried.

You’d always reassure him everything was fine, but deep down he knew it wasn’t all fine. He knew there was stuff you didn’t want to talk about, and thankfully, he didn’t push.

Your phone shortly buzzing brought you from your thoughts, with a text from your dad that simply said ‘love you, kiddo’ with a red heart emoji. You hearted the message before locking your phone and setting it on your nightstand once again.

Joel came into your room seconds after with a paper plate that contained a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off and some pretzels on the side in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

He hands you the plate as you sit up, and you quietly thank him. You ate slowly, and Joel watched you. You look up at him as you take a bite from your sandwich, and he clears his throat.

“You know, darlin’,” Joel toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. “I may not know what you’re going through at the moment, but I can promise you I’ll always be there for you whenever you need me. Just say the word and I’m there.” Joel reassures, sitting on your bed once more.

“Thank you, Joel. I’m sorry you had to, uh, find me like this and… bathe me.” You look down at your plate, slowly swallowing the bite you were chewing.

“Don’t ever apologize, sweetheart. You needed to be taken care of. There’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with letting someone do so for you, okay?”

You find yourself leaning forward, touching your forehead with Joel’s. Your noses brush together for a second before he reaches up to cup your cheek and pull away from you. He’d love to kiss you, but he didn’t know if doing so in such a vulnerable time for you was really appropriate.

You felt his hesitancy, so you put your hand on the back of his neck to coax him closer to you, and your lips met his soft ones. It was a short and sweet kiss, something to say thank you a million times over. You weren’t very good with your words or sharing your emotions, so naturally, this was your way of doing so.

He smiled against your lips and kept you there for a second, just holding you and relishing in the sweet, loving, tender moment between you both.

And for that and the man that he is, you’ll be forever grateful for Joel.

tag list: @cool-iguana ily

[moodymisty]

Chapter reactions to their Primarch's beloved [ part2 ]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

[ Part 1, Part 3 ]

Author's Note: Another 4 of the 'Chapter reactions to their Primarch's lover' series I said I went too crazy with. I chose them at random, if you want any more feel free to say.

Relationships: Implied Lion'el Jonson/Gn!Reader, Implied Konrad Curze/Gn!Reader, Implied Vulkan/Gn!Reader, Implied Magnus the Red/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Some vague implications of the Night Lords being creepy little shits but tbh is that really surprising?

➧ Dark Angels:

Paranoid. You were actually kept a secret from most of the Legion apart from Lion'el's closest Commanders for quite awhile, until he made his decision to reveal the that The Lion of Caliban had taken a lover.

You can only assume he did all of it as another layer of his ever expanding list of contingency plans and secret keeping. You're quite familiar with his thought process at this point; At least what isn't also another secret.

They are, more than a bit confused as to why their Primarch has dedicated his time to such pursuits, but you suppose it all could be far worse.

Their 'upbringing' and Lion'el's inability to show pretty much any emotion has heavily affected their ability to do or understand anything that could be considered 'affectionate'. It just seems pointless to them.

They have a pompous aura, and an overall 'nose turned upward' attitude regarding you. Despite being their Primarch's beloved, you are seen as beneath them by nature of your existence. This could quite possibly change overtime however, depending on how much of an active role you take in Lion'el's legion.

However Lion'el's paranoia extends to his sons in force, and his men are hyper vigilant of you if you're ever put under their watch. They may not have the best attitude, but you couldn't be safer. Expect to basically be chained to one spot for periods of time. Figuratively. Maybe.

All of this makes interacting with them, difficult, but manageable. At least they don't want to murder you.

...As far as you know

➧ Night Lords:

Avoid every single one of them like your life depends on it, because it very much does. Becoming the object of Curze's obsession is probably the worst possible thing you could do for your overall life expectancy.

Because he pretty much brought a prey animal into den of slobbering wolves, being with you. As while Konrad may love you (at least as much as a man as troubled as him can) many of his sons see you as little more than a brand new thing to be toyed with.

While Heresy era Night Lords may be marginally less deranged than their 41st millennium counterparts, they still heavily enjoy instilling fear; Particularly to keep humans in line.

So they tend to circle around you like they're herding prey animals; Biting the air if you wander too far away from their Primarch's shadow.

There's really only a few that you 'trust' enough to be in their protection for more than few minutes. And while you might feel safe, there's always... Something off.

You can stand to be in the same room as Sevatar- given his more stalwart, repressed nature which makes him much easier to communicate with than the average Night Lord- but you don't like the way any of the Night Lords look at you. Even him.

There's always something deep within their dark eyes, or something behind their rare smiles. Being near them makes your neck tense, hair standing on end. Every single siren in your head screaming to run run run. It's like they're waiting for the moment Curze leaves you alone to take something they want.

You don't want to know what that something is.

➧ Salamanders:

The most sane of them all besides the Ultramarines and the White Scars. They treat you with respect and kindness, in that stunted, overly formal Space Marine way. You can tell they're trying, so it's kind of sweet, honestly.

Even from the moment that Vulkan first formally introduced you as his beloved, they always seemed to welcome you into the chapter, so to speak.

They're also helpful; For example given the sheer scale of the Flamewrought, you've been helped by them before when you found yourself horribly lost. Something Vulkan finds very amusing.

Overall, they are one of the few, if not the only chapter that would probably be actually somewhat, happy, to see their Primarch happy.

They see the way Vulkan softens whenever he looks at you, and know that those things are what they're fighting for.

Vulkan has spent years emphasizing the importance of protecting the Imperium and it's people, and it's paid off with a chapter that is not only of a somewhat normal disposition, but isn't completely fucking insane.

They'll keep you safe no matter what, as even without orders, they genuinely seem to care for your wellbeing.

Just keep your new sons away from the lighter fluid, ok?

➧ Thousand Sons:

Many of them disapprove of Magnus going down such a path, seeing it as unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but when they see how Magnus is absolutely stupid in love with you and will not hesitate to scold dissent on the matter, they end up having to stay largely quiet about it.

No matter how much they may object at the end of the day, Magnus won't budge; So they have to just learn to accept it. Afterall, Magnus had made it very clear you aren't going anywhere.

While they perhaps might not be as overtly as pompous as the Dark Angels, for awhile they won't be much more than amicable to you.

As their Primarch's beloved, they will be more than ready to protect you if need be, and while at first it might simply be because their Primarch has ordered them to, overtime they do warm up a bit. You can smile at them and watch them hone their skills, and they begin to see why Magnus likes you so.

Just don't finger up the tomes, and you both can coexist.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Welp, it's Nikke, so of course I'm gonna request Rapi, Anis & Neon who catch their S/O staring at their ass (not in battle, just during free time)

(GoV: NIKKE) Rapi, Anis, and Neon's S/O looking at their butt

NSF-W IMPLICATIONS (Obviously, though this is more humorous than lewd)

Of course this is literally the first ask I get for Nikke. ...Well, at least you had the politeness to not do so during combat.

A/N: Okay I genuinely forgot how NIKKE throws ass in your face first thing when you're playing, especially Rapi's.

Rapi detects S/O's IFF behind her while she is near the counter, organizing some paperwork.

At first, she smiles due to their presence-

-...Before quickly realizing S/O's heat signature seemed to be rising on their cheeks.

(Rapi) "S/O. I would kindly ask for you to keep your eyes above my waist."

(S/O) "S-Sorry! I was just...Um...It looks nice, at least!"

She can't help the blush that's currently making her core overheat as well.

Rapi immediately turns around and reprimands S/O by gently flicking them on the forehead, careful that her mechanical finger didn't actually harm them.

(Rapi) "Thank you, but do not stare when there's the risk of someone walking in."

Before they could get a word in, she shook her head.

(Rapi) "A-And, that is not an invitation to stare in private either!"

The single stutter was enough to tell S/O how flustered Rapi was.

Being complimented by someone she loved was usually enough for her systems to simulate the phenomenon of "butterflies in her stomach", but in this case it was definitely different.

Thank the goddess that it was just them in the room at the moment. She did not want Anis's commentary on this situation.

Granted, her wardrobe did admittedly make it hard for S/O not to notice.

...Maybe she should change wardrobes when at the base, or at least wear something longer.

Anis was lying down on the sofa, idly flipping through her phone with S/O in the same room.

She sighed before flopping over onto her back, glancing at S/O.

(Anis) "Jeez, could you be any more obvious about where you're staring, S/O?"

(S/O) "S-SORRY! I didn't mean to!"

Her eyes widened in surprise before scoffing.

(Anis) "Wait, seriously? I was just cracking a joke, wooooow!"

If S/O was anyone else, she'd probably just punch them in the face for that.

But, since it was them, she'd allow it...Not that she's going to say that, because it's pretty funny to watch them get flustered.

Though Anis wasn't completely immune herself.

Plus she didn't want to give the green light for S/O to be ogling her all day during their free time.

Anis was somewhat flattered that S/O thought she was pretty enough that they even stared to begin with.

As long as it was only just her, anyways, she'd remain flattered.

(Anis) "Had no idea you were such a pervert...Well, actually yeah I can, considering who your usual company is."

(S/O) "The Commander?"

(Anis) "Ah yes, because I'm definitely referring to the only guy on base at the moment, present company included."

Anis replied, rolling her eyes.

(Anis) "If I hear you staring at anyone else, your ass will be in trouble."

Neon was honestly busy focusing on adjusting the scope on her rifle, hoping that it would land an explosive shot more accurately on the range.

S/O was in the room, though strangely they had not said anything for a small period of time.

Were they focusing on something too?

Neon glanced back at S/O and noticed they were staring down.

...Meeting where their eyes were staring at, it was indeed her backside.

(Neon) "H-Hey! What the heck are you doing?!"

(S/O) "AH! Sorry, m-my mind just spaced out and!-"

Neon pouted, crossing her arms while her core began to overheat.

(Neon) "That's no excuse, you can't be staring at my butt while I'm focusing here!"

She wasn't careful with her volume, which meant that someone definitely overheard that line, much to the despair of S/O.

Neon however didn't really notice, and began loudly lecturing S/O how her butt was nothing compared to the power of the firepower she was going to unleash!

And at this point, S/O was starting to sound like the perfect target!

Anis heard the conversation and began snickering, ready to use it for teasing ammo later.

Rapi heard it and began blushing, trying her best not to pay it any mind.

The Commander simply sighed and went back to his paperwork, attempting to tune out Neon still talking.

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.14. ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK.

"let me hang around, even if it's just some way to have a common burn."

from common burn by mazzy star, left in himeji, hyōgo

he hasn’t texted her back all day. she’s sure it’s because he’s busy. if he’s really going to catch a train in time, he’ll have to pack everything he’s bringing back with him, get to the station, take the train, drop everything off back at his apartment, and dozens of other things. he's busy. she tells herself that’s why he hasn’t texted back. and she shouldn’t be bothered, she’s not the only person in his life. she can't expect him to immediately reply to any of her texts.

she tries to stay positive. there's other possible explanations, too. he’s just as mischievous as he was in high school, and it's possible he's just playing with her, so she won’t know when he’s coming.

that’s probably the most likely answer, but she can’t help pacing around her apartment in anticipation. it’s a cold day, and kuroo and kenma are lazing around in the living room by the heater to stay warm as they scroll on their phones while she tries to make sure she’s thought everything out. although maybe she’s thought too much.

too much about their time spent together, about if he’s coming back to town just for her or if she just happens to be part of the reason why. and he’s come to keep her company and eat at onigiri miya when she’s working, but rarely have they ever gone out to eat together. she stayed awake laying in bed for hours thinking about the implications of his texts last night. was he asking her out? she couldn't be sure, and she was tired of overanalyzing every text between them when it was getting her nowhere.

she’d double-checked her outfit–simple and casual, but enough to keep her warm–with both kuroo and kenma who gave her a thumbs up. she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to trust their opinions on fashion, but they were the best she had at the moment and kenma was prone to saying whatever he was thinking anyway (which was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the day).

she's also learned her lesson from last year and spent the morning searching up what places would be open on new year's eve. then, she triple-checked on the phone with overworked hostesses that their holiday hours were correct.

she decided on a place that the pottery shop owner next to onigiri miya had recommended her. it was a new place that had risen to popularity within the last year; the ravens eye diner.

the name had already drawn her in from the start, and the old-fashioned, brick exterior of the building and neon sign in addition to their extensive menu was all she needed to decide it was the perfect spot. despite it being a holiday, they were still open all 24 hours. she felt bad for the employees, but at the same time, the more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea of spending the new year in a diner became. she was sure from the looks of their warm environment, it wouldn't actually be a bad place to spend the night at. but suna already had a plan for them, so maybe she’d bring up the idea next year if they liked the diner.

‘would there even be a next time? a next year with him?’ what if she managed to mess up or say something to him that was so bad it broke off their friendship? what if she got so tired of keeping her feelings pushed down she ended up finally confessing to him and ruining everything? what if they got distant and stopped talking altogether?

she groans, putting her hands in her face as she leans against the edge of her kitchen counter, tired of thinking. she just wants to see him, and be with him. he always distracts her from everything else. it's always just the present with him.

oh shit, had she gotten him a present?

“can you stop worrying for three seconds?” kenma’s voice comes from behind the couch, and she can only barely see his grown out bleached hair peeking out from the arm of the couch, where he’s resting his head on it.

she gives him a dirty look, which he can’t see but can still feel. “it’s not my fault i have no idea where he is or when he’s coming. he’s messing with me and it's stressing me out! and i just realized that i didn’t get him a gift because i didn’t know when he’d be coming back and didn’t want to be weird but now–”

 a knock against the door makes her immediately shut up, and kenma lifts his head up slightly, looking at the door. kuroo spares it a glance as well before giving her a sly grin as she makes her way towards the door with a red face, each step feeling heavier and heavier.

it’s suffocating, standing in front of their brown wooden door. the silver lock and knob are right in front of her, and she’s frozen in place. she can feel him waiting on the other side, and then she decides ‘fuck it’ and swings the door open.

it’s only been maybe a week since she’s seen him, and she heard his voice just last night, but the sight of him makes her breath hitch; dark gray, wide-legged denim jeans and an oversized black sweater, with a white t-shirt peeking out from underneath. he has the same hooded eyes she’s been caught staring at multiple times, and he’d be wearing his trademark neutral expression as always if not for the small smile on his face that she immediately mirrors.

“hi,” he says, arms shifting. they’re behind his back, holding something she can't see

“hi,” she breathes, trying to remain composed. “what do you got there?” she asks, gesturing to his poor attempt to hide whatever he's carrying.

“just flowers,” he shrugs, brushing it off as if it's something completely casual. he takes his right arm out from behind him, revealing the bundle of lilies in his hand. they’re all still buds, closed but standing tall and she can’t help the way her smile grows at the sight and his lips follow. “i was busy trying to get this all together that i didn’t have time to text you back, i’m sorry. i mean– i probably could’ve, but in all honesty, i thought it’d be fun to leave you guessing about when i’d show up.”

“i can’t believe you,” she laughs, taking the flowers from him. “thank you for these. i'm not sure i forgive you for leaving me on delivered all day, but i can't say i didn't expect that to be your answer. did you get these from calico blooms? i would’ve thought they were closed today.”

“they were,” he answers and she tilts her head, brows furrowed in confusement. “like i said, i pulled some strings to get these. since you like lilies, right? unless you were just making up stuff when you tweeted about them.”

she’s quick to shake her head, starting to pull at one of the leaves on the stems of the bunch. “no, you were right. i love them.” she tries not to let his words get to her head. ‘for her? he had gone through the trouble of buying flowers for her?’

the conversation goes silent between them before he reveals what he’s been hiding in his left arm. it’s an inconspicuous rectangular box wrapped in brown paper with a smiley face drawn in the corner in black ink. she looks up from the present to his face as she takes the box from him with a small thank you and he only gives her a grin, “that’s your actual gift, but you should open it later. if you unwrap it now and like it, we'll be stuck here forever. which wouldn’t be the worst way to spend new year’s eve, but i’m starving. did you find somewhere we could go?”

“i did!” she brightens up at the question, reminded of the night they have ahead of them. “let me put these down and we can go.”

it’s like she’s lost all ability to function like a normal human being; she’s not sure what to do with the door in the meantime. she doesn’t want to shut it on him but she also doesn’t want to leave it open, where he’ll be able to see her embarrassment of ha roommate and his friend giving her the sleaziest, snarkiest smirks she’s ever seen that she wants so desperately to slap off both of their faces. she opts for the middle between her two choices and leaves the door slightly ajar as she places the flowers and gift on the kitchen table gently. she rolls her eyes at the two boys on her couch, flipping them off. they send up their own fingers as a goodbye before she grabs an overcoat and her keys before slipping out the door. she locks the door behind her, letting out a breath, finally glad to be out of kenma’s sight. she knows he’ll tease her to no end when she gets back, or maybe he’ll be spamming her phone with texts throughout the entire night.

“everything okay?” he asks with a small laugh, watching her pull her keys from the door with another sigh.

she gives him a smile back, “yeah. just kenma and kuroo being little shits, that’s all. but now we’re ditching them so things are great.”

she starts down the hall and he follows after her, falling into step. his presence next to her is comforting; she’s no longer nervous about tripping over her own feet being side by side with him like she was during the first two years they had known each other. instead, she's just hyperaware of every time their hands and arms brush against each other, the contact sending chills down her neck and spine. “i didn’t even notice them,” he comments, looking forward down the hall. “but i completely understand. that night i went to your exhibit literally everyone was waiting for me to come home, we're surrounded by little shits.”

she snickers at the image in her mind of his roommates sprawled out on their couches and suna’s deadpan when he walked through the door. “so, where are we going?” he asks, yellow-gray eyes narrowing as they look at her.

“it’s a diner my friend told me about,” she says, returning his gaze with an excited glint in her eyes. “the one from the pottery shop that osamu likes. she spoke really highly of it so i’m hoping it’s good. and they’re open all night, too.”

his brows raise with a nod, “even on new year's eve? good for them, i guess. how are the lovebirds doing, by the way? anything new between them?”

she hums in thought, trying to rack her brain for any new interactions between her boss and the girl next door, “i don’t think so. since osamu went out of town, they haven't really talked. she’s come into onigiri miya a few times to see if he’s back but i told her he won’t be returning until later this week.”

they step into the elevator to take them down to the ground level of her apartment building. the doors close as he responds, “maybe we’ll put together a plan when he gets back in town. he was always on twitter trying to see if she had posted something new when i hung out with him back home.”

she nods, “i was thinking the same thing. maybe i’ll force her to take him to this diner too if we like it.” the elevator door chimes as they reach the first floor, and he lets her go out first before walking beside her again.

the diner is everything she could have hoped for and more. she's resisted the urge to pull out her phone and text osamu about it all night; the two of them often go out to try places together because of their shared passion for food, but she wants to keep the place a secret until the pottery shop owner can take him here. they spend most of the night catching each other up on any stories they’ve missed while they’ve been apart and haven't gotten the chance to discuss over the phone yet. he tells her about the twins' latest pranks in hyōgo, and she tells him about the late nights spent gaming with kuroo and kenma.

the diner’s menu is colorful and glossy, each page laminated and spotless. there are countless items to choose from on each side, front and back, but she settles for something plain and simple. she orders half a grilled cheese and a bowl of tomato soup while he gets a soda and sandwich, seemingly unfazed by the freezing weather outside. they end up stealing parts of each other’s dinners, staying for around an hour before they pay, leaving a tip and heading towards the door. the blond hostess squeaks out a goodbye who they wave to before they wander back into the cold.

she lets him lead them as they keep chatting. even after the long nights they’ve spent on the phone over the break, they never run out of things to say. they climb up a tall hill until they reach a plateau, gravel crunching under their shoes. at the edge is a low concrete barricade overlooking the city. with such an important holiday being only minutes away, the city is as alive as it can get. minuscule yellow squares are scattered haphazardly across towering buildings, where lights are still on in offices, and she can barely make out the bright, colorful digital billboards that display advertisements, covering the walls of other structures entirely. on the surface of the barricade, a phrase has been spray-painted onto it, reading out “life is beautiful.” 

they climb over the barrier, sitting on the top of its cold surface. a quick glance at her phone tells her the time. there’s just under 10 minutes until midnight.

he breaks the silence with a question, “how did this break goes for you?” he asks, drawing her attention to him. “i know you had kenma, and we called a lot, but i saw your tweet yesterday– about feeling lost. how are you doing now?”

she looks down at her hand, splayed atop the smooth stone surface they're seated on. he’s given her a chance to tell him how she feels. that he’s the one she feels lost without. she just needs to take the risk. “i’m doing better now,” she starts, trying to be honest. “it was fun to hang out with kenma and kuroo, and i’m thankful for them, but they also would’ve been fine on their own without because they're a pair, you know? and for me, that’s how i feel about you.” she's still staring at her hand, unable to look at him. she wants to see his reaction, but she can't bring herself to lift her head and her confidence slips away, “about you and omi. you guys are like my closest friends, and my other half. so i was really missing you guys.”

it’s silent and it feels like her entire body is burning. her face is burning, and strangely, her eyes are burning. she regrets her words; both her original statement and the excuse she added to it in a poor attempt to play it off. she's missed the perfect moment to tell him how she feels, but she's also not sure she wants to tell him. it’s hard for her to navigate through their friendship when it feels like she's in the dark, feeling around blindly for a boundary between them and what they are that doesn't even exist.

he tries not to let her last sentence get to him. he froze initially at her original explanation, but now the word is ringing through his head. she values him and omi equally. she sees them both as her closest friends.

he nods, because he doesn't feel like he can formulate words yet after that blow. but he needs to say something back, and pretend like everything is fine. “you know, if you’re ever feeling lonely, you can always just come back to hyōgo with me. i’ve mentioned you to my family before–”

“you’ve talked about me to your family?” she asks, face lighting up, and the awkward repercussions of her statement that formed between them have melted away again.

“yeah, just in the passing. i told them you were the inzarizaki's sports photographer, and you know my sister a little bit, so they all like you,” he says, nervously tugging at the collar of his sweater. “but if you’re not comfortable staying with us, atsumu and osamu’s mom is nice, if you could bear being in the same house as the both of them,” they both grimace at the idea and immediately reject it. “or why don’t you stay with omi? i’m sure he’d let you,” he suggests.

she shrugs with a sigh, looking towards the sky and he follows her gaze. “i don’t know. i just feel like i’m overstepping boundaries. like he shouldn’t have to care for me at our apartment and outside of it, too. i want him to enjoy his break. i want all of you to.”

he chuckles at her words, and the lazy smile on his face when she looks back at him makes her face feel warm again, “it’s not like you made us food after every game in high school, and still do even now. i wouldn’t mind if you stayed with me, really. you’re not a burden. we're friends, and we hang out because we like being around each other, not because we're forced to. you're talking like we're taking a break from you but no one thinks of you like that. we all love you.”

his words make the hair on the back of her neck stand up. they sound so genuine, and she hates the way he says friends even though just moments ago she said the same thing. she purses her lips with a sigh, “you sure know to be convincing, but i’m still not sure. cooking for you guys was different.”

“in what way?” he quips, raising his brows.

he laughs when she’s unable to respond because she's bluffing, there really isn't a difference. he’s right, but she doesn’t want to admit it. “i’ll think about it,” she finally says after taking in a breath. “about you and your family. maybe i can suck up to them when i meet them. that’d be fun.”

their conversation is cut short by a loud explosion that startles both of them. he stands up, slipping back down from the barrier to look around. “it was probably an early firework,” he guesses, standing a few feet away. she’s looking back at him, and his face is lit up by the screen of his phone as he looks down at it. “it’s 11:59, so we’re almost there.”

she turns back to face the city, waiting for him to return to his spot next to her. however, the sound of a camera shutter makes her look back again, an amused smile on her face as she sees his phone held up in her direction. “hey, i’m the photographer here,” she teases as he makes his way back towards her.

he sits next to her again, their legs brushing, and she can feel the heat radiating off his body. “well someone’s gotta take photos of you. and i’ve decided it’s my job now,” he replies, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

she doesn’t respond, she just looks at him with a smile.

his throat feels a little tight, staring back at her. he can’t help the way his sight flicks down just a bit to look at her lips, despite how hard he’s trying to stay focused on her eyes. 

he almost says something. it almost escapes his chest before another boom makes them jump. they look forward, just in time to see yellow sparks fizzing high above the city, followed by red and white specks glittering amidst the background of the midnight sky.

she taps on her phone, just to check the time before she looks back up at him, “happy new year, rin.”

she’s finally remembered to say his first name, and he swears his heart stops for a second. he returns her smile, “happy new year, y/n.”

it’s their second new year together. another year of sitting close side by side, another year that he's not actually looking at the fireworks. he's admiring her while she watches the sky.

it's been another year.

another year of doing nothing more than stealing glances and covering up the truth with faux words; taking one step forward, then two steps back.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

i'm sorry if there's any typos </3 i've proofread and changed things like four times now and i want to move on <3

MY BISQUE BEAU, INKED, AND THE RAVEN'S EYE DINER PLUGS!! u should go check out all of these :)

by “pulling strings” to get y/n flowers, suna texted osamu about knowing the owner of the flower shop down the street from onigiri miya and osamu said he’d text mbb yn about it because she was good friends with the owner of the store.

kiyoko met him out front of the store, giving him the bouquet of flowers, telling him they’ll last around two weeks and they’ll bloom over the next few days, although she’s sure they both know that (from y/n’s original tweet about lilies <3)

she was giving him the biggest "i know ur in love with her and it is so cute" smile and look ever

he took them and thanked her. and he assumes they’re probably just white lilies (man doesn’t know anything about flowers although he wishes he does </3) but they’re PINK <3 and y/n will find that out later

inked y/n DEFINITELY helped kiyoko pick those out

hmmmm i wonder what y/n’s gift is

taglist: @0moonii @iluvmang @bluebeanbee @wyrcan @oyasumeii @froyaoya @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @eggyrocks @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 @wolffmaiden @rockleeisbaeeee @toges-cough-syrup @cnnmairoll @ryeyeyer @hibernatinghamster @localgaytrainwreck @lemonocity @bows4life @sereniteav @madiexuberant @eclecticeggknightpsychic @phoenix-eclipses @sonicsolos @httpakkeiji @brkfclub @snail-squasher @starry-magicshop @cr4yolaas @kitnootkat @zzzlevislothzzz @iluv-ace @iluvaquaphor @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @applepi25 @twiishaa @girlkissersco @sleepystrwbrryy @encrypta

[suzukiblu]

Day seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems in someone who was in that situation trying to flirt with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . ‘fast’,” Kon echoes awkwardly, glancing down at their hands. Tim tries not to wince. He definitely sounds like an idiot or a prude or–whatever. Just incredibly, incredibly uncool. 

He has actually never felt less like a prude since getting to know Kon well enough to notice things like how good the bastard looks soaked in Kool-Aid, but now is just . . . really not the time for thoughts like those, yeah. 

“I, uh–I’ve never actually, um . . . with anyone, actually. Guy or not,” Tim half-admits, though it feels stupid that being a virgin is something to admit instead of just a statement of fact. Normally it wouldn’t be, is the thing, but he just really doesn’t want Kon to think he sounds lame or antisocial or . . . whatever, exactly. “I actually would literally not even know how to, uh . . . give you ‘tips’ or anything. Unless I had like, the prep time to do some research, I mean. It’s just, uh–I don't date much, to be honest. Or, uh. Pretty much at all? Like, you're definitely more experienced than I am either, uh, either way, like that's just–I don't do much of this stuff. Any of it. I have in fact gone out with exactly two girls in my life and they both were definitely, um–also the ones who were making the moves and all.” 

It's not that he never want to make a move, just usually he's too busy being way too in his own head about it or something else entirely or–

God, he is rambling so much, Tim realizes, repressing a cringe when he realizes how blankly Kon’s currently staring at him. Because it is very, very blankly, that Kon is staring at him. 

Crap. 

“Uh,” Tim says with a grimace. “Sorry. Um. If you were expecting something . . . faster, I mean.” 

Kon should definitely not have anything that fast if he’s thinking of himself as a product, Tim’s basically positive, but also that’s actually not any of his damn business, but also he definitely needs to look into Kon’s dating history just to add a few names to his list for when he finally goes supervillain and just maybe look into–

. . . Kon is still just staring blankly at him. 

Tim fails to repress the cringe this time. 

“Uh,” he attempts again. “Kon? Are you . . .?” 

Kon turns literally crimson and ducks his head, but also doesn’t actually stop staring at him. 

. . . alright then, Tim thinks. 

“I do like you. I like you a lot. Like–I like-like you a lot, if I have somehow managed to not be embarrassingly obvious about that at this point,” he tries, borderline flailing in the conversation now since Kon is apparently no longer willing to use his words and he was already not doing that great with it when Kon was using his words, and he can’t even talk with his hands or anything because he’s holding Kon’s hands like an actual grade schooler, except probably no one ever has held Kon’s hands like–no, no, he is not far enough down the supervillain pipeline to be able to finish that thought process and deal with the psychological consequences of having to not burn down the system about it, he really cannot do that at any point in the next ten to fifteen years whatsoever. “This isn't–I'm just–it's not me not wanting to . . . take some pictures, eventually. Just . . . maybe we could wait a bit on it. Stick with the streets and buildings for a little while longer, maybe?” 

He tries for a smile and also tries not to cringe again over how weak an attempt it feels like, and then has the uneasy and uncomfortable thought that actually doing anything like that isn’t even really–is that ethical, even? Even the idea of doing something like that? Kon doesn’t really know Robin all that well, no, but they’re on the same team and the same side, and they’re teammates and at least arguably friends, and Kon also doesn’t know he is Robin, and– 

“Um,” Kon says, his hands tightening just a bit around Tim’s and his face still blazingly and borderline inhumanly red as his head ducks a little lower and his mouth curves into what is, in fact, the most unfairly soft smile that Tim has ever seen on the bastard’s face. “We could do that, yeah.” 

Tim was thinking about something, probably? Which hopefully wasn’t something important, considering just how ruthlessly Kon just fried his brain out of his head. Which is not even reasonable or logical, because all Kon did was . . . well, imply he was fine taking things at Tim’s pace and not actually going to get immediately bored if he didn’t put out and was actually interested in just being together, and also did it while smiling at him like that. 

Alright, fine, Tim knows exactly why his stupid brain got itself fried. He’s still apparently embarrassingly easy, though. 

Well, that’s not exactly new information in regards to Kon anyway. 

[thiriann]

The Ascension and the sexual implications of it

We all remember the post from a few weeks ago that circled here. I didn't go through with the Ascension from a purely game sense "this is clearly evil " standpoint. I didn't really understand why it's evil or even more why it's sexual. Some analyses have floated around here and tumblr that mentioned it's because "vampires are a sexy fantasy". Well, yes but you're getting a vampire either way, aren't you?

I didn't manage to connect the dots until I started looking into possible ways for him to walk in the sun. It seems the only reliable one is a “Wish” spell. But that seems to turn the vampire mortal again. Now, that didn't sit right with me. If Ascension was changing him, this was even more of an "I'll fix him" situation. But I thought, would he even agree? He's so power hungry probably giving up on being a vampire would be the last thing he'd agree on. But the more I thought about it, the more it became clear to me that he actually has a strong dislike for being a vampire. If you tell him his reflection is a small price to pay for vampire powers he answers "To you, maybe." He loves seeing the sun again, all the colors. He can't see or remember his eyes, which if we take into literary view, eyes being the windows to the soul we could say it shows his disconnect with his soul, with his humanity. He absolutely hates the hunger urges that come with vampirism, saying they make him pathetic and it's the worst version of himself. And of course, the sexual part. He hasn't actually seen any perks of vampirism, just that it makes you an object of desire, a thing used only for sex. That is the only side of vampirism he has managed to experience and that is what he connects it with.

The point in the story that clearly connects his vampire nature to sexuality is the talk with the blood merchant. She is a drow, her society already views men as slaves good for one thing. But she doesn't ask him for sex, she asks him for a bite yet it's just as sexual. It shows the player that vampires are sex objects yet again. But whatever is left of him, of his soul and humanity is very separated from his vampire form. He doesn't take being a vampire as an identity but separates himself from it, calling it an affliction, or condition. So why push him further into nature that he doesn't accept or enjoy?

At many points he mentions there's almost nothing left of the man he was, whatever little is left of his soul, etc. He believes he doesn't have much to offer, especially after sex is off the table. That is why it's so important to remove sex from your romantic relationship for him. While obviously, it's a time for healing, it's also a time to actually connect to the person behind the vampire. The person he used to be before he became a sex object.

And that is the same if you choose his spawn romance ending. You pick the man he managed to remain despite everything that happened. That's why his post-scene at the grave is basically a rebirth of him, of his humanity. While the romance post-scene of the Ascension is a rebirth of you. You chose to reduce him to a vampire, to an object, and even went as far as to objectify yourself as well by accepting the vampire nature. And ultimately, that's all that's left of him, the vampire. The person he was is gone completely.

I'd just like to add that a lot of people like to bring up that they let the other characters make their own choices but that's a weak point. Shadowheart's choice is very influenced by your choices/approval and let's not forget she would actually kill Lae'zel if you don't get involved, you literally have to choose if you sell Wyll's soul or not, and Lae'zel would kill you if you don't stop her.

Also, there is the argument that he wants this. And for that, I can only guess based on my speculations, that despite all the power hunger brought from whatever feelings, survival, fear, selfishness -until the very last moment he hadn't made up his mind. He even tells you this before you enter Cazador's chamber. He won't know what he'll do before he faces him. His turmoil is obvious. You can tell him this isn't him, not really. And he responds that it should be, he doesn't want to be pathetic.

The choice for the ascension never was his, as it never was for him. He himself saw no way out, just like when he was under Cazador. And the temptation that was obviously present at the idea of being just like Cazador. The choice there was for you.

For the player, whether it'd be as a lover or a friend.Do you want the man or the vampire?

[quin-ns]

Can you maybe write something with swiftie!reader?

I thought this sounded so cute and since I saw a couple tiktok edits of JJ to this song, it’s the one I ended up referencing 🥰

Style (JJ Maybank x Reader)

John B realized his mistake the moment he handed you the aux cord, but it was too late. You plugged your phone in and pulled your go-to playlist up.

You were in the passenger seat so it had been something he’d done without thought, but as Taylor Swift’s voice came over the speakers, Kiara leaned between the seats.

“See, now why would you do that?” she questioned John B

“Hey! Her songs are really good,” you argued, looking back at Kiara.

“They are, but you play this one way too much.”

You rolled your eyes at Kie and opened your mouth to speak, but JJ crammed his way to the middle to be able to lean over your seat. The action made you smile, especially when he backed you up.

“Let her play what she wants,” JJ jumped in. “Besides, I like this one. “Style”, right?”

“10 points to JJ!” you cheered overdramatically, mostly just to watch Kie roll her eyes.

You noticed the sly grin appear on JJ’s face right before he asked, “Do I get a prize?”

That look he got when he was only focused on you crossed his face. You loved it.

You grabbed his chin lightly in one hand and pulled him in close enough for you to be able to press a kiss to his lips.

“You guys are gross,” Kie grumbled, moving to sit back in her spot.

“Please don’t make out in front of us,” Pope requested a little uncomfortably, finally making himself known.

“Jeez, Pope,” JJ drawled when the two of you parted. “It was just a kiss, not making out. When we do make out, you’ll know.”

Pope cringed at the implication while you jokingly swatted at your boyfriend.

While you had control of the music, you only played Taylor Swift. You let a variety play out, but went back to “Style” more than once.

At one point when you played it a second time, even though he was sitting behind you, you realized JJ was humming the tune and occasionally muttered out some of the lyrics to himself.

It brought you joy, and that was partially why you ended up playing it yet another time. You knew all the complaints were non-serious, so you didn’t see a problem. Besides, you put up with their music tastes all the time, they could handle it.

Later, when it was just the two of you lounging out in the hammock while the others resided inside the Chateau, JJ brought it up.

He was laying on his back with his arm wrapped around you. You laid mostly on your side next to him, your head on his shoulder.

“Why do you like that song so much?” he wondered, probably realizing he hadn’t asked before.

You knew exactly which one he was talking about. You tilted your head up and found him looking down at you. You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly why.

“Parts of it make me think of you,” you admitted. JJ didn’t say anything, waiting for you to explain. ““James Dean daydream”?” you recited, gauging his reaction. ““Long hair slicked back, white T-shirt”?”

As your luck would have it, to further prove your point, JJ was wearing his favorite white T-shirt. You pinched the fabric between your fingers and that caused him to look down at himself.

JJ’s brows pinched together. “My hair’s not that long.”

You chuckled at how he analyzed the lyrics.

“Long enough,” you replied lightly, shrugging your shoulders in spite of the angle. “And it’s not the whole song, because our relationship isn’t in danger like that—it’s not, right?”

You weren’t asking him genuinely, you had a joking tone that he could easily identify.

“Absolutely not,” JJ still answered with certainty. “You and I are perfect.”

“I second that,” you agreed, snuggling a little closer to him. “But anyway, a few weeks ago I heard it after we hung out and that part…” you trailed off, watching him watch you.

You loved the interest JJ showed as you spoke, even over something as small as a song. It made you feel more listened to and cared about than you ever had before.

“I don’t know, it just made me think of you,” you concluded, not having a more complicated reason like he was expecting.

“It is a pretty good song, and if that means I’m on your mind, then I approve,” JJ beamed.

JJ cupped your face in his hand and leaned down to press his lips to yours. You grinned against his lips before letting your eyes slide shut and kissing him back.

JJ rolled you beneath him, his lips moving against yours with dominance.

You had an afterthought about before in the van when Pope accused the two of you of making out. You hadn’t been before, but you were now. You really hoped this one wouldn’t be interrupted.

The next time you all were in the van, JJ rode passenger since you all took turns for the most part. When John B handed him the aux cord, a smile broke out across your face the same time Kiara rolled her eyes dramatically and Pope sighed when his chosen song came on.

“Seriously, dude? You too?” John B asked, more amused at his friend playing Taylor Swift than annoyed.

When “Style” got to the chorus, JJ looked over the seat. He gave you a smile in return before sitting back down properly.

“What?” he questioned with a shrug, facing John B. “I like this one.”