#spent way too much time cutting out partners

[ohnonotthehorrors]

Can I... talk about the theory that winners help craft the next game?

Because, and I really can not say this enough, it puts So Much into perspective.

Everything starts out Normal. Three lives, simple, cut and dry, there hasn't been a winner yet. No one to help craft the game. (And there's something to be said about how simple it really was. Not even a real expectation of the world becoming pvp or combative. No idea of the war to come)

Then Grian wins. The green killer, the man who vowed his first life to the one whose life he took. The next game the boogie man is born. A mechanic that allows and, in fact, demands, a green kill. People can trade lives back and forth, currency and debt wrapped up in one. (can we still be friends? Said the red partner. A life time later and reds are hostile, alone. Maybe it's an answer: No. Not anymore)

Scott wins this time. He refuses to play the game. He will not kill his team, he will love and he will do so fiercely and with all of himself. The next game people are attached through to their very souls. Every bit of damage to one soul is done to its twin. There is no boogeyman. (There is no way for a widow to be left without their love)

Pearl wins and she wins a blood bath. Spent the game draped in red, only wolves for company. Sitting in her tower, shivering in ice, maybe she wanted it to end. To see where it would. Limited life rewards you for killing, limited life has a clock tick tick ticking down, you always no how long you have. A curse yes, but a blessing too.

Now It's Martyn's turn.

And what a turn it is.

Keep your secrets, says the disloyal man, keep them well. Everything hurts, everything Matters, says the man fracturing with every loss. (What if we could love each other without hurting? Says The Hand, who never wanted to be coated in blood)

More importantly, Martyn has always seen the watchers below the surface. Now, they're right here in front of him. Something that could almost... be rebelled against, no? Something that someone else could finally point to and say: hey, hey isn't that familiar?

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[titania-sleeps]

Submissive Omega Yandere x Alpha Reader

hi guys it's tmr and i was able to cut down some of the words! i left out the full ver of his first heat and your first rut so that'll be a dif post

idk if i should go fully into omegaverse stuff and just give reader a dick regardless of gender (cause apparently female alphas have retractable dicks) so i'm avoiding that for now

edit: more works featuring Adonis: Adonis Rides You, First Heat

warning: nsfw, dom reader, omegaverse (heats, ruts, yknow), minors DNI pls

• Adonis and you have been fuck buddies for three years now. At first, it was out of necessity; you were both teenagers with raging hormones, and being an omega and alpha respectively meant that the two of you had a difficult time taking care of your needs on your own.

• Adonis was surprised when you proposed the idea to him in your third year of high school. The two of you were good friends by then, and you probably knew of his plight. However, his heart raced nonetheless and he wondered if you secretly had a crush on him. He wouldn't have minded if you did, since you were his type! Sadly, you made it clear to him that you weren't interested in him as a romantic partner, only as a sexual partner.

• Adonis didn't let that deter him, however. He couldn't deny that he felt a little disappointed, but he didn't think too much of it at that time. As long as he didn't fall in love with you, everything would be alright.

• Adonis fucked up. Two months into your friends w/ benefit situation with him, he'd already caught feelings. Whenever he was around you, his pulse would increase and his senses would go into overdrive. Even when the two of you weren't fucking like rabbits, his hole was dripping for you.

• Adonis cursed at himself every time he went on a date with you. (They were dates because he considered it so and he would take no other opinions.) It was especially terrible when you went shopping with him. He couldn't help himself but think about you fucking him senseless in the changing rooms. Just the thought of it alone had him squeezing his thighs, his breaths heavy.

• Adonis tried to hide it from you, but you easily noticed his rose scent growing stronger. You would pull him to the side and ask him gently if he was in heat. The worst part was that he wasn't. He was simply always like this around you.

• Adonis loved that you never asked any further questions. You would quickly take him home and tell him to strip. And strip he gladly did. He didn't have the time to prepare himself for you, but you didn't need it. In a matter of seconds, your tongue was in his hole, thrusting in and out. Your hand rubbed his rock-hard member, sliding easily with his slick. During those nights, he would cum quickly and sleep deeply, arms wrapped around your waist tightly. He would not let you leave him.

• Adonis didn't understand how you were so nonchalant. He felt silly being the only one so affected by the intimacy the two of you were supposedly sharing. He assumed that you would've bitten him already, but you were so resilient.

• Adonis tried to ignore it, and he did a really good job at doing so! Well, for about a week. He just didn't get it; he was perfect for you and you were perfect for him. Your scent intoxicated him, and he was sure that his scent affected you the same way. So why didn't you want him more?

• Adonis spent the next year grappling with his situation. It only got worse over time; just a small whiff of your scent drove his instincts insane. He needed to be bred by you, for you to mark him. He needed you to claim him, to destroy his being and rebuild him from scratch.

• Adonis had his first official heat in the middle of the day at school that same year. It came out of nowhere, and the arousal he felt was far greater than anything he'd ever experienced in the past.

• Adonis didn't bother hiding it. You were talking to your friends, but he interrupted and dragged you away by the arm, his face flushed. You were concerned, as you always were, but his eyes were clouded in need. He pushed you into the janitor's closet, locking the door behind you.

• Adonis stuck onto you in the closet, trembling. Sweat trickled down his neck, glistening against his skin. His scent was stronger than it had ever been; no longer just roses but now with a hint of lemon.

• Adonis whined, grinding against your leg. His pants were already soaking wet, the sticky liquid coating your leg. You sighed; you knew were going to miss class for the rest of the day.

• Adonis clung to you for the rest of the school year, nearly attached to your hip. You had lunch with him every day, you walked him home every day, and even your weekends were spent with him. He was so happy that you were giving him so much attention!

• Adonis suffered greatly during your last year of high school. He was so close to confessing to you, but he didn't want to lose what he already had with you. But you were glowing, your demeanor so confident and charismatic. He could see the other omegas turning their heads whenever they walked past the two of you.

• Adonis knew that if he didn't act quick, another omega would try and seduce you. He couldn't stand the thought of that, especially since he laid his eyes on you first. He would be your first and only mate. No one else.

• Adonis's heart dropped when he witnessed a small female omega confess to you under a cherry blossom tree the day of your graduation. He was planning to do that. That was supposed to be you and him.

• Adonis didn't bother trying to think when he intercepted her confession. He grabbed your arm, pressing his chest against it.

"Who is this, darling?" he had asked. The shock and hurt on her face were worth every ounce of courage it took for him to do that. She ran away, sobbing, and he was left with you and a sense of pride. No one was going to come between you and him.

• Adonis was scolded by you afterward, but he didn't care. You were his alpha, his fated mate. You didn't need any other omegas. That night, you treated him roughly, your body pressed heavily against his and your teeth baring at him.

• Adonis grinned. You were going to bite him! Surely, this was where you would finally, finally bite him. Hurry, show him what bad boys get. Show him that naughty boys get bitten, claimed against their will, and used like toys.

• Adonis was disappointed when you left the morning after, no bite marks on his body. He was being so good for you, so why didn't you claim him? Did you have someone else? Did he have to resort to murder just so you'd look solely at him?

• Adonis swore to himself that this year would be the year you bite him. This year would be your final year as fuck buddies. Next year, you two will already be mates. And if there's one thing you need to know about Adonis, it is that he mates for life.

something in me wanted to name him adonis casanova bc that would've been really funny but he's just adonis. for now.

next adonis fic is gonna be his first heat (in detail) and then maybe your first rut (also in detail),,,

-> masterlist

[ihavenomouthandimustmouth]

It seems like a lot of the anti-transmasculinity/transandrophobia discourse revolves around the ideas that either this does not occur, does not occur in real life, or is just transmascs viewing criticisms of transmisogynistic transmascs as oppression, so here’s a story.

I live with some other people around my age, and I stopped using my deadname with them earlier this year. it hasn’t been that long, about 3 months, but generally, they use my correct name with an occasional mistake, usually followed up by a correction. one of them, however, just cannot seem to stop deadnaming me, often without correcting afterwards. when they do notice they’ve gotten it wrong, it’s usually followed up by a big thing about how they don’t know why they’re so bad at it or blaming it on being drunk if they’re drunk, but often not an apology.

an additional piece of this—my partner, who is a trans woman, changed the name they use around the same time, but this person almost always gets her name right. this person knows me a bit better/longer than they do her, but not that much better/longer, and generally, when I am around them, my partner is also there. (adding a cut here because this is gonna be long)

I talked with my therapist about this at my last session. I was seeking advice on how to handle it, but I also spent a lot of time just complaining and running through different incidences of this happening. I ended up telling her about some of the weird things this person said to me when I first started socially transitioning, including them saying that they were sad when I came out because they (direct quote) “didn’t want to stop seeing me as a genderless elf” (???!?) (I had previously identified as nonbinary and used any pronouns) and followed that up by saying that they hated men, which they then followed up by saying “not trans men though” (which like okay but then why bring that up in this conversation).

In talking my therapist, I circled back to the deadnaming issue and said that I thought this person was doing this to me and not my partner because my partner is more feminine than I am masculine (in social behavior and the way we look as two people that have not started medically transitioning). my therapist pushed back on this and said that, based on all the things I said, it seemed more like this person just didn’t want to see me as a man.

this blew my mind a little because I, a transmasculine person who spends way too much time on trans and transmasc internet, did not put the situation in this context while my therapist, a cis woman who is supportive but not super aware of the trans experience, did. it made a lot of sense though, and fit into the context of my other experiences and interactions with this person.

this person is a nonbinary person who has never identified as or been seen as a man. they are supportive of trans people generally and of their rights. they are also someone who believes that woman are inherently better than men. this generally doesn’t have much of an impact on the cis men we live with—for them, this more comes as being around for jokes that might make them a little uncomfortable, but doesn’t stop them from being seen as men. for me, this means I have to deal with the fact that this person doesn’t want to see me as a man and deadnames me accordingly, seemingly because they see me transitioning as a loss.

my point here is that when transmasculine people say that there are issues they face specifically related to them being transmasculine, that’s not a lie or a hypothetical. there is a stark contrast between the way this person treats my transfem partner and myself (and, after talking with someone who’s lived here with this person for longer, other transmasculine people who have lived in the house). they are supportive of trans people as a group, but not of transmasculinity, and I have to deal with the consequences.

[cloudybarnes]

Busy Bee

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader

Summary: you may have accidentally fallen asleep on draco, but in your defense, he was really comfortable to sleep on! now, though, you're forced to face your feelings for him and do something about them

Word Count: 2.6k+

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

“Blaise, move your big arse away from my comfy spot.”

You had a tiring day of classes, and wanted nothing more than to just relax for the rest of the night. You had gone back to the Slytherin common room to hopefully see some of your friends and just wind down for the night. 

Everyone in Slytherin knew there was one special spot on the lounge couch that was reserved for you. You had spent countless hours and dozens of nights in that exact spot either studying or just hanging out with friends. That was your spot, and when you came into the common room, everyone knew to make way for it. 

Blaise chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, (Y/N), didn’t realize you’d be back so early.”

“Early?” You exclaimed as you jumped into your spot. “I’ve been busting my butt all morning for these stupid exams. I’m exhausted.”

Pansy groaned from her spot on the floor. “Why don’t you just cut yourself a break once in a while? It’s no fun when my best friend is too busy for, like, anything anymore.”

You frowned. “I’m not too busy for you! I’m here now, aren’t I?” You grabbed a blanket from the stockpile you kept in the common room, and wrapped yourself tight in it. 

Pansy rolled her eyes with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just in time to hear about the latest shit with Emma.” 

Pansy had a wild grudge against this poor Hufflepuff girl who didn’t even know that Pansy was beefing with her. It was quite funny, honestly, but you loved Pansy enough to let her moan on about what annoying thing Emma does everyday. 

“Oh goody.” Draco came out from the stairwell into the common room with a roll of his eyes. “Another go round of how insufferable you think that Hufflepuff is.” 

He glanced over to see you cocooned in your blanket and let out a soft laugh. Draco took his seat next to you and laid his arm over the back of the couch behind you. 

Draco intrigued you. Over the last year, the two of you had grown quite close. You considered Draco a good friend, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t wish it were more. Draco was kind. He was flirtatious and charming, but he was sweet and gentle with you as well. Sometimes you thought Draco may have feelings for you in return, but you were far too scared to confront him about it. 

“Well, for starters, we already know how much of a know it all she is, but for some reason she has to showboat just how smart she is. You’d think she was a Ravenclaw what with how obsessed she is with being correct.” Pansy said. 

Blaise started to respond to her squawking when Draco shifted closer to you. Blaise’s voice drifted away as you focused your attention to Draco. 

“You alright, Dray?” You asked. 

He smiled slightly. “Yeah, just trying to get comfortable. Salazar knows Pansy will be talking about this nonsense for hours.” 

Draco dropped his arm from the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulder and pull you into him. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, silently hoping Draco couldn’t feel the intensity of it. 

You tried to hide the grin threatening to break out on your lips as you snuggled closer to his chest. This was definitely a first for you guys. Though you and Draco had been quite flirty, he’d never been so open with his physical touch before. 

“Then she had the nerve to choose me as her partner. Like I would ever consider her!” Pansy glanced over at you and did a double take when she saw you wrapped up in Draco. Her eyes grew slightly, but she averted them with a clear of her throat as to not make it obvious. 

“And then, she had the audacity-“

“She really is quite obsessed with this hufflepuff, huh?” Draco whispered to you, quiet enough for Pansy not to hear. 

You looked up at him. His face was so close to yours, your noses were practically touching. You bit your lip as a smile threatened your face. 

“Yeah,” you whispered back as you stared into his eyes. “Leave her be though, it keeps her entertained.”

Draco chucked, his minty breath hitting your face due to your close proximity. Your own breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized just how close you were to him. You could feel your stomach doing cartwheels as you took in all of his glorious features up close. The glimmer in his eyes, the point of his nose, the curve of his lips. 

“I didn’t see you earlier,” Draco shifted the conversation, pulling your gaze from his lips back to his eyes. “What were you doing all day, busy bee?”

You blushed at the nickname. “I was just in the library writing up essays and study guides for our finals.” You let out a yawn, the reminder of your morning making you realize just how exhausted you were. 

“Sleepy?” Draco murmured in your ear.

You nodded your head with a mumbled ‘yes’, then rested your head on his shoulder. Draco wrapped his arm tight around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. With his other hand, he softly combed his fingers through your hair.

You hummed as you closed your eyes. “You’re comfy,” you sleepily mumbled. 

Draco chuckled. His fingers brushed against your cheeks every once in a while as he gently continued combing through your hair. 

As you felt yourself falling asleep, you could hear Draco shushing Pansy and Blaise to ensure they didn't wake you. 

✰  ✰  ✰

The next morning you wake in your bed, unsure of how you got there. You must have gone up sometime in the night and just not remembered. 

With a shrug, you stood up and stretched your arms over your head. Pansy was snoring in the bed next to you. You tiptoed over to her and gently shook her awake. 

“Pansy,” you called as you shook her some more. “Come on, babe, time to wake up.” 

She just grumbled and swatted your hand from her shoulder. You huffed. Pansy was terrible in the mornings, and for some reason unknown to you, she didn’t believe in alarm clocks so you got stuck waking her up every morning. 

A mischievous idea came to mind, and with a smirk you jumped on top of her sleeping body. 

“Ahh!” She shouted as you frantically shook her awake.

“It’s wake up time, Pans! We’ve got to get ready for our charms exam this fine, beautiful morning.” You said with a laugh. 

Pansy sat up and pushed you off of her so you laid on the bed instead. “Geez,” she grinned as she rubbed at her sleepy eyes. “Who knew a night with Draco would make you so chipper this morning.”

You sat upright in crisscross as your smile fell. “Wait, what?”

You had spent the night with Draco? But that didn’t make sense, you woke up by yourself in your own bed. Plus, you would have remembered if something had happened between the two of you. 

Pansy saw your confused expression and chuckled. She grabbed a pillow and gently swatted you in the face with it. “Not like that, you silly. Salazar knows if you slept with Draco you’d have probably died of happiness.”

“Hey!” You whined as a blush started creeping on your cheeks. “I’m not that crazy for him.” 

“Oh, please,” Pansy scoffed with a slight smile. “I saw the way you cuddled up with him last night. I almost had a heart attack for you when I saw how close you were! Go (Y/N), go (Y/N)!” She cheered. 

You laughed and pushed Pansy away from you. “Shut up!” Your giggles died down as you recalled how you laid with him last night. “Was it really that obvious?”

“Girl please! I thought Draco was gonna scoop you up and run away with you. You should have seen the look on his face when you fell asleep on him. He looked at you like you hung the damn stars in the sky.”

Your heart fluttered. You knew there was something going on with you and Draco, but by the way Pansy was talking, though she had a knack for exaggeration, it sounded like he really did have a thing for you. 

“So, what do I do now?” You asked as you slightly rocked back and forth on her bed. 

“Are you joking?” Pansy deadpanned at you. “(Y/N/N), you gotta go get your man! I’m tired of watching you two drool like little puppies over each other just for nothing to come out of it.” 

Your cheeks flushed. It had been a long time of this back and forth with Draco, and you decided you were ready to see where it got you. 

“Okay, I’m gonna tell him next time I see him.” You said. 

Pansy cheered. “Yes, finally! Now hurry up, I’ll help you pick a cute outfit that has ‘date me’ written all over it.” 

You chuckled as Pansy eagerly jumped up and ran to your closet. She grabbed your shortest skirt, a white button up top, and your Slytherin robes. 

“Pans, how is this any different than my usual outfit?” You asked as you stood from the bed and joined her near the closet. 

“Ah, my sweet (Y/N), it’s not about the clothes you wear, but how you wear them.” She grinned as she threw the clothes into your hands. “Put them on so I can work my magic.”

You chuckled and stripped out of your pajamas to put on your school outfit. Turning back to Pansy, you said, “Okay, now what?” 

She devilishly grinned. Pansy pulled your skirt even higher up your legs to expose just a bit more of the skin there. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt and fixed your boobs so they popped out a little bit more. She wrapped the robe around your shoulders, but let the front open so you could see everything underneath. 

“And no tie,” she added, “that way your shirt can stay that way.”

You chuckled. “You get me into all these crazy shenanigans, you know that right?” 

“You know you love me.”

“Yeah,” you added wearily, “but what if it’s too much? I mean, we still have to go to class. It’s not like I'm only going to see Draco.”

“Who cares?” Pansy asked as she started to dress herself in a similar manner. “Let the other boys stare and show Draco that you’re a hottie who other boys can get at if he decides he’s gonna be a wuss today.”

You laughed. Pansy always knew just how to make you feel better. “Alright, let’s get out there, then. Don’t wanna keep all the boys waiting.” You winked at her. 

Pansy smirked and wrapped her arm with yours. You walked out together and down to your first class that you shared. 

Luckily for you, Draco did not share the same period for charms as you. You thought if Draco was in the class you would have surely failed your final. 

You felt pretty confident in your answers, and soon enough class was dismissed. 

Your heart beat out of your chest as you said your goodbyes to Pansy and walked to your next class: one you shared with Draco. 

Nervously, you picked at your clothes as you walked to potions. On your way there, you couldn’t help but notice all of the random students staring at you. Boys, and girls, sneaked peaks at you as you walked past them. 

It felt nice to be noticed, you just hoped Draco would react in a similar way. 

Speak of the devil.

There Draco stood in all his glory. He leaned against the wall outside of the potions room looking you up and down. Draco’s lip was trapped between his teeth and he sized you up. 

“Bloody hell, (Y/N).” Draco mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear over your rapidly-beating heart. 

Draco pushed himself off the wall and started walking towards you, meeting you halfway. He didn’t say anything. All he could do was stare. Draco knew you were gorgeous; he’d be a bloody fool to not have noticed it before, but there was something about the way you looked that made his head spin. 

While he shouldn’t say it, Draco had always imagined how you would look after he’d had his way with you. He didn’t ever want to seem like a creep, you were too sweet for that, but that just made him more curious. 

In all honesty, he didn’t know you had this in you. 

“Uh, Draco?” You asked. Draco had zoned out as he stared at you. You could feel your cheeks getting warm and you took in how awestruck he looked. 

“Hm?” He glanced back up into your eyes. “Sorry, sweetheart, you just- you just look incredible. Well, you look gorgeous everyday, just you look gorgeous and sexy if that makes sense.” 

You raised an eyebrow almost teasingly. “Oh, so you think I look sexy now, huh?” You don’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but you liked the way Draco’s eyes widened as you crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your boobs out ever so slightly.

Once he recovered, a smirk adorned his handsome face. “I always think you look sexy, now I'm just seeing it in person rather than my dreams. And speaking of dreams,” Draco grinned devilishly, “how did you sleep last night, darling?” 

You had almost forgotten about the confusion of the night. “I slept well. I think.” You chuckled as you pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “I don’t exactly remember getting to bed, though. Care to enlighten me?” 

Draco chuckled, “You fell asleep, quite adorably I might add, and I as the gentleman I am had the privilege of carrying you up the stairs and tucking you in for the night.” 

You smiled, “how come you didn’t just wake me?”

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink. “I, uh, I just knew how tired you were from your morning and I didn’t want to disturb you. Hope that was okay.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly. 

You grinned and reached up to squeeze his arm. “It was really sweet of you, Draco.” 

The two of you stared at each other for a minute, the silence held some tension, it had some longing imbedded into it. 

“Draco…” 

“Do you want to go out sometime?” Draco cut you off. 

You gaped at him. “Like a date?”

Draco smiled, “yeah, exactly a date. I knew I’ve liked you for a little while, (Y/N), but when you cuddled up against me last night, I had this thought that I wanted to do it again. And then again after that too. You held onto like you needed me, and, uh, I really liked that.”

Draco blushed a little at his confession and shuffled his feet around nervously. 

You couldn’t help but grin and wrap your arms tight around his neck. Draco was a little taken aback by your quick movement, but surely sunk into your hug and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I’d love to go out with you, Dray,” you whispered as you were pressed so close to him. “I’ve been hoping you would ask me out for a long time.”

Draco pulled away, but still held his hands on your waist. “Sorry for keeping you waiting so long, darling.”

You giggled and grabbed Draco’s hands to pull him towards the classroom. “Come on, Slughorn doesn’t wait for anyone and I need to do good on this exam.”

Draco chuckled and let you pull him along to class. He couldn’t wait to finally take you out on a date. 

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸

daughter of demeter! reader x luke castellan 🌿

IN WHICH.. the “best friends” of camp half-blood maybe wanna become a little more..

warning! this fic contains: fem!reader // use of y/n

🎧- lovesick by laufey

1.7k

Camp Half-blood was illuminated by gold streaks casted from the early morning sun. Light seeped into Cabin 4 through the window, painting the room with warm hues of yellow and orange. The bright rays were a natural alarm, gently waking you from your warm sleep. 

As the covers slipped off your skin with ease, you carefully tiptoed out of the twin bed to close the blinds. Young campers softly snored, and you couldn’t help but smile at their blissful state. Grabbing the rough fabric, you quietly pulled the two pieces together, blocking any more sunlight from startling your siblings.

Sleep still threatened to drag you under, so you slipped on sandals and trudged towards the kitchen, eager to get a warm cup of coffee, or really anything to help you wake up. 

Outside was fairly silent, contrary to the rowdy and noisy afternoons that typically filled the camp. The only ones awake were boisterous birds, who sung an enchanting song, and a few other counselors who were busy setting up  for the day. 

Your steady steps carried you to the small camp kitchen, where snacks littered the room as a reward for the effort of the counselors. A small jet black coffee maker stood on the counter, with Luke Castellan lingering next to it, facing away from you. Your presence went unnoticed by him, and you watched as he swiftly picked up two steaming mugs.

He slightly jumped at the sight of you, surprised by your hushed entrance. 

“H-Hey. Made you your coffee.” He said, reaching out to awkwardly hand you one of the energizing brown liquids. You delicately giggled at him for his initial fright, and accepted the sweet gesture.

“Thank you. Excited for today’s activities?” You asked, taking a sip of your toasty drink. Today, Hermes and Demeter Cabin were partnering up for a lazy day doing arts and crafts and indoor activities. The kids spent the past week relentlessly training, working hard from dusk till dawn, so an easy day was needed.

“Any time I get to spend with you is exciting.” Luke replied, smirking, before realizing how that sounded and backtracking. “I- Uh, I didn’t mean it-“ 

You laughed again, quickly cutting him off.

“I know what you meant. See you at eight.” You turned away, teasingly bumping his shoulder. 

“See ya.” He whispered out, pursing his lips and doing a slight nod as he witnessed you sauntering away. 

You and Luke had been close friends since the beginning. He arrived with Annabeth and Grover, confused and broken by the world. Luke never wanted to be a demigod, to lose Thalia. It was all too much for him.

But then you passed by in the infirmary, practically radiating a positive energy. You smiled at him, a genuine smile, with your nose scrunching up and your eyes nearly closing, before going to chat with some Apollo kid.

You were selected to give him and Annabeth a tour later that afternoon, presumably for your friendly and charming personality that seemed to lure people in. Luke got to observe your perfection firsthand as you helped the his sister adapt to the new surroundings, sweetly showing her everything to love about camp.

Luke followed you around like a lost puppy, mesmerized by your every move. With every step you took, luscious flowers blossomed, creating a beautiful scenery. Not to mention, the kids looked up to you so dearly, with the way you patched their nearly invisible cuts and grew them tulips on their worst days. 

The sad reality was you were more of a mother to them than their biological parents, even if you were only fourteen at the time. You did your best to make them feel “normal,” to let them live a glorious childhood that you were never granted. 

In those five years after his arrival, you became close as ever. Whether it was spending time basking in the strawberry fields or splashing around in the lake, you spent every minute together, your bond stronger than any weapon forged in Olympus. You laid by him on those restless nights before he got claimed, and after, too. And when you had a small cold, he went full Apollo-mode and spent hours glued to your side until you felt better. 

However, there was one teensy issue. Luke was hopelessly and utterly in love with you. Every one saw the way he gazed at you a little too long and with a little too much love in his eyes for just a friend.

Well, all noticed except you. The poor boy thought you weren’t interested, but the reality was your concept of love was so twisted and blurry that you had no clue what “love” even looked like. 

So, both you and him stayed silent, hoping one would realize eventually, and end this torture of a situationship.

Which brings us back to now, a cool and humid lazy morning with the campers, lounging on the few picnic tables decorated outside Hermes Cabin. Luke watched as you sat with your (and his) siblings, carefully threading pearly pink beads on a flimsy string. You laughed as you talked to the young children, making sure they were all included. The sun brightened your features, making you appeal heavenly. And your eyes twinkled with curiosity as a little unclaimed kid ranted on about some silly story.

“Dude, you’re staring again.” Chris chimed in, raising his eyebrows as he continued to paint navy shades of blue onto a rock.

“Shut up. Aren’t you whipped for Clarisse?” Luke sarcastically asked.

“If anyones whipped here, it’s you. How long have you liked her now? Can’t you just tell her already?” He was quick to return the sassy attitude, remaining unbothered by his friend’s remark.

“It’s not that simple, you know that. What if she doesn’t like me back and-“ He tried to ramble on, negative thoughts swallowing him whole. Luckily, Chris was there to pull him out of his own mind with yet another dumb comment.

“Damn. I knew you weren’t Athena’s son, but I didn’t know you were that clueless.”

“What?” Luke questioned, slightly offended.

“How many guys has she dated since she met you?”

“None. But I don’t see how this really relates-“

“And how many have asked her out?”

Luke paused for a second. There was Ethan from Ares, who tried asking her on a date a week ago, but she declined. Or Jack from Aphrodite, who, let’s be real, was the most attractive boy in camp, but she rejected him, too.

Chris took his silence as a victory. “Exactly.” He retorted.

“Whatever.” Luke shrugged, hopping up to sit by you. You scooted to your left, making room for him instantly. Cheers erupted from the campers as they saw their (second favorite) counselor.

“Luke! Y/N told us that you still snore when you sleep!” One of them pipped out, sending the rest of the minions into a giggle fit. Luke took a dramatic gasp in, placing a hand on his heart to pretend he was hurt.

“I do not!” He yelped, making the younger laugh even harder. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the kids joke around.

“I can’t believe you would betray me like that!” He said to you, trying to fake upset, but the huge grin on his face said otherwise.

“I mean, am I wrong? You are the loudest sleeper I’ve ever met!” You reply, grinning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looks the other way, and before you can say anything, a voice cut you off.

“Hey! Luke, Y/N!” A blond Apollo child shouted from afar, gently jogging while approaching them. They shifted their attention, prepared to fulfill whatever task presented.

“Chiron needs you in the office. New kid arrived. They said his name was Percy or something?” He finished, jogging away, most likely to get back to the infirmary.

The leaders looked back at their older friend, wondering if he could cover while they helped this newcomer out. 

Chris gave a thumbs up, signaling he could watch them for a few minutes. 

You and Luke playfully danced around one another on the short stroll, talking about anything and everything while you walk through the woods.

Soon, you reached the open building, the stain glass windows casting a colorful glow. You peer inside to see a blond teen, looking around twelve years old, arguing with Dionysius.

“Peter Johnson is here!” The drunk croaked out, and the two counselors made sure to swoop in. 

“Percy, Right?” You said, slightly a little too enthusiastic for 8am on a Tuesday morning.

“Yeah. At least someone around here can get my name right.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry about that. He can be a little.. chaotic. I’m Y/N, counselor of Demeter Cabin, and this is Luke, counselor of Hermes Cabin. We can give you a tour, if you want.” You explained, gesturing towards Luke who gave a friendly smile.

“Yeah, sure.” The blond boy replied.

-

“And this is Hermes Cabin, where you’ll be staying.” Luke exclaimed, pointing to the rough looking room.

“Uh, no offense, but why am I staying here?” Percy asked, disgust lingering in his words as he stared down the messy bunks.

“Uh, Offense taken. First of all, we’re definitely the best cabin of all time. And all unclaimed campers stay here, along with children of minor Gods.” The brunette said.

“Hate to break it to you Luke, but Demeter absolutely solos your Cabin.” You cut in, mouth letting out a ‘tsk’ sound. 

“Slow your roll there. Your cabin may be neat, but the amount of plants in there is slightly concerning.” Luke joked, you and him now unknowingly engaged in your own little conversation.

“It’s better than your pig pen!” You shouted, your sweet laugh echoing throughout the area.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He replied, and Percy took a step back, running into an older teen, staring at the “friends” who were flirting right before everyone.

“Do they always act like this?” He asked, referring to their nonstop conversations, and their slight physical touch. Your fleshy fingers were somehow always grazing his calloused skin. 

“Always. It’s sickening.” Chris replied.

“Agreed.” Percy sighed out, as Luke looked back at the two. They both gave an encouraging look, telling him to shoot his shot. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to go out to the lake tonight? Just us?” He asked you, throat going dry and knees threatening to buckle as he fidgeted with his thumbs.

“I’d love too, Luke.” You replied, blushing as you swayed nervously.

“Great! It’s a date! Unless you don’t want it to be-“ He was quick to start, but you briefly interrupted.

“I’d like that.” 

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[flightlessangelwings]

FawKtover2024 Part 6- Frankie Morales

Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Kinks- sex pollen, overstimulation

Word count- 2.4k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), fwb to lovers, army days Frankie, reader is part of the team, sex pollen, unprotected sex, riding, overstim, no physical description of reader other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- Big thank you to @jolapeno for helping me come up with the scenario and for the good opening line here! I hope you like this bb!! This definitely got longer than I meant it to, but hey that's sex pollen for ya!! Enjoy!!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date!

~

“Dammit, Fish,” you cursed as you dragged your partner through the labyrinth of hallways, “I told you not to go sniffing things!”

“It’s not my fucking fault,” Frankie huffed as he felt like his body was on fire, “It fucking exploded in my face.”

“Still,” you hissed, “You need to be more fucking careful.” The worry was apparent in your tone though the chastising. You were truthfully more scared than you let on, but you had to hide it for now and get Frankie to safety.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission: get in, investigate the seemingly abandoned town, gather information, and get out. You and Frankie paired off as the team split up to cover the entire town, but as you investigated what looked like an old lab, things went wrong. He picked up a small case, a puff of powder exploded from it and covered his face. Thinking quickly, you grabbed him and ran, darting through the halls in search of somewhere safe.

“Shit,” Frankie gasped as he suddenly became acutely aware of how tightly you held him.

“Hang on,” your voice was strained as you found a small room with a working lock far enough away from the lab you investigated. Closing and locking yourselves in, you set Frankie down onto the ground and knelt in front of him, “Frankie,” you let the worry show more in your tone, “How are you feeling?”

Frankie looked up at you with glazed over eyes as his hair fell in his face. You looked like an angel as you scanned him over for injuries or any sign of distress. But, it wasn’t pain that he was feeling. “I…” he choked on his words as his pants suddenly felt too tight, “I don’t know,” Frankie sounded annoyed and unsure; he had no idea what was happening to him. 

Your brow furrowed as you stared into his eyes. Your heart pounded as feelings threatened to bubble to the surface that you tried so hard to keep down. “It’s gonna be ok, Frankie,” your eyes darted around as you tried to come up with a plan. Digging into your tac bag, you said, “I’m gonna call the guys on the radio. See if they can help figure this o…”

“No!” Frankie cut you off. When you looked at him with a wide eyed expression, he clarified, “No,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was fighting something, “Don’t… Not yet.”

“Ok,” your voice softened as you put the radio down, “What can I do to help you? What’s wrong?”

Frankie looked at you for a moment as his thoughts raced. He thought about the first time the two of you slept together, about how beautiful you looked. He thought about how you both agreed not to let the sex get in the way of the team or your friendship, that it was only physical. He thought about how much of a lie that was as he quickly felt more for you than you obviously did for him.

“Nothing,” he coughed out as he didn’t even believe himself. Heat pulsed though his body as his cock strained in his pants and the more time he spent in this tiny locked room with you, the harder it was going to be to keep his hands to himself. 

“Nothing?!” you snapped back, “Frankie I just dragged you halfway across this town because of something you inhaled! We’re locked in a storage room and you’re sweating more than a whore in church! You have to do better than ‘nothing!’”

He winced, but your outburst was justified. Letting out a heavy sigh, Frankie tried to calm his racing thoughts as he clenched his fists tightly at his side. His arms strained to keep himself still, when all he wanted was to pounce on you and fuck you until neither of you could walk anymore.

“I’m sorry,” your voice softened, “I’m just…” scared.

Frankie couldn’t hold back anymore. The sound of your voice was overwhelming for him, and he launched himself at you, crashing your lips together in a heated kiss. Frankie swallowed the surprised moan you let out as his hands roamed all over your body. His hips bucked against you as he finally started to feel a small sense of relief just from kissing you.

“Frankie?!”

He froze. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find that he had already stripped you of your tactical vest, belt and your shirt was unbuttoned to reveal your bra  underneath. When did he do that? Whispering your name, Frankie’s gaze dropped to the ground, “Shit,” he murmured, “I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, “It’s whatever was in that fucking powder. It’s making me…” Frankie paused as he looked up at you with those big brown eyes, “Want to fuck you so fucking bad.”

“Frankie…” you breathed as you looked at him with a pleading expression. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d slept together, but yet this was still different. Your mouth dropped open as your eyes trailed down his body before you could stop yourself and you noticed the large bulge in his pants.

That explained a lot.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he tried to scramble away from you, “Shit. Shit,” he covered his mouth, “I can’t fucking hurt you. I won’t fucking hurt you.”

Feeling a flutter in your chest, you scooted yourself toward him and cupped his face, “Look at me, Frankie,” the resolve in your voice was clear, “I’m going to help you through this,” you paused as he opened his mouth to protest, “And you won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

“Baby…” 

You both launched yourselves at each other at the same time, wrapping your arms around the other. Frankie pulled you close as he crashed his lips against yours once more while you climbed onto his lap. You grabbed onto his tac vest as you writhed in his lap, grinding yourself against his hard cock over his pants.

“Fuck…” he breathed as he covered you in kisses. His hands worked to strip you of the rest of your clothes, fumbling with shaky fingers as whatever drug he inhaled pulsed through his veins.

Heavy breaths filled the small room as you adjusted in Frankie’s lap after he shimmied your pants off of you. With trembling hands of your own, you unfastened his pants and freed his cock, which sprung free and stood at full attention. You gasped when you noticed how swollen and red it was, and you were sure it was from the drug.

Straining to hold himself back, Frankie whispered, “Are you sure I won’t hurt you, baby?”

You met his eyes as your heart stopped for a second at the expression he had, “I’m sure,” you kissed him tenderly, “Let me help you, baby.”

He groaned as he helped you line yourself up with his aching cock. Perhaps if he had been more in his right mind, he would have done more for you before he fucked you, but he was too far gone. The need was too great, and it overwhelmed any other thought he would have had.

Slowly, you sunk down on his cock, whining and gasping at the stretch as you did so. Frankie let out a primal growl as he felt your heat around him. You clung to his tac vest as you lowered yourself onto his lap, tremors running up your spine with every inch that pushed into you.

Unable to stop himself, Frankie grabbed your hips and thrust you down the rest of the way, making you both yelp.

“Shit!!” Frankie gasped, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s ok,” you panted, “I’m ok.”

“Fuck…” he groaned as he rocked his hips against your body, rutting into you clumsily. Frankie grabbed your ass and kneaded the soft flesh as he stumblingly thrust up into you.

Your mouth dropped open to let the moans flow as he thrust into you from below. You held into his vest as your breasts bounced from the motion. You threw your head back and immediately he nibbled on the skin of your chest.

“Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum…” Frankie groaned right before he exploded into you. He held you even more tightly as he spilled himself into you while you whimpered in his lap.

But it wasn’t enough.

His cock was still rock hard, and Frankie growled in frustration as he lunged forward and threw you onto your back on the floor with him overtop of you. All the while, his cock never left you. Gasping at the sudden change in position, you let out a cry of surprise as you found yourself on your back.

“Frankie…” you moaned as he wasted no time pounding into you.

“Baby,” he groaned as he lost himself in your body. He grunted at how good you felt as his hips slapped against yours in a fast pace. “Fuck,” Frankie growled as his mind spun.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him close as he pounded into you. He was rougher than he had been in the past, but you welcomed it. Even through the drug, you felt the care Frankie always had, and it brought tears to your eyes as he hit that sweet spot inside you over and over again.

“Frankie… Fuck… I’m…”

He groaned as he thrust into you as deep as he could as his second orgasm hit him without warning. The feeling of your inner muscles squeezing him sent him over the edge, and Frankie grinded his hips against yours for some friction against your clit. You let out a scream of pleasure as your own climax hit right after his, making you tremble underneath him.

With a gasp, Frankie collapsed on top of you, making you huff in surprise. Together, the two of you breathed heavily in a sweaty mess on the floor until Frankie realized he was still hard.

“Shit,” he groaned in frustration, “Fuck!” his fist landed on the floor next to you.

“Keep going,” you whispered in his ear, feeling his rock hard cock still inside you.

“But…” his head shot up to look into your eyes.

“It’s ok,” you opened your eyes, blinking tears away as you cupped his face, “I’m ok,” when he opened his mouth, you interrupted, “I promise.”

Frankie breathed your name as he dipped his head and kissed you sweetly, “Fucking hit me on the head if you need to. Alright?” The message was clear: do not let me hurt you no matter what. Frankie knew you could take care of yourself, but he was always determined to protect you regardless. Even if in this instance meant protecting you from himself.

If it were any other time, you would make a smart comment about how much pleasure you would have gotten from that, but this was not the time. Instead, you nodded, “I trust you, Frankie.”

Again, your words caused a switch to flip in his head, and Frankie pounded into you at a fast and rough pace once more. He murmured your name over and over again as his hips took on a life of their own, unable to stop himself. But the way you moaned and cried out only fueled him more and he grunted as he thrust into your wet pussy. He came without fanfare, yet he kept going. Thrusting into you with fervor, Frankie groaned as he attached his mouth to your shoulder. 

Both of you were overwhelmed by the emotions that ran high between you. Tears filled your eyes once more, and you felt drops from Frankie as well. He mumbled indistinctly in your ear as he continued to pound into you.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good, baby,” he managed to get out clearly.

“Frankie…” you whined as you felt another orgasm start to creep up on you, “Fuck…”

“One more, baby,” he murmured, “I think one more will do it.”

“Cum, Frankie,” you moaned, “It’s ok… Cum in me again.”

He growled your name as another climax hit him like a train. Relief finally felt within his grasp as he rode out his last orgasm on your body. As his mind started to clear, Frankie snaked his hand between your bodies and rubbed at your clit, determined to have you cum once more as well. And he got his wish. The moment his fingers made contact with your clit, you came undone and you came with a loud scream.

Finally collapsing down in exhaustion, Frankie felt like the drug had worked its way through his system. He took a deep breath before he pushed himself up to check on you, “You ok, baby?” he asked in a soft tone.

You kept your eyes closed as you also caught your breath. Feeling his large hand on your face, you blinked your eyes open and your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he looked at you, “A little sore,” you admitted, “But I’m ok.”

“Let me,” he groaned as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you. Frankie gave you an apologetic look when you hissed in pain and he never let go of you as he gathered you in his arms while he laid on the floor next to you. “Thank you,” he broke the silence, “For… this…”

You settled yourself in his arms as you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “I hope you learned your lesson, Fish,” you snarked back to hide the emotions that threatened to come to the surface again.

Instead of matching your snark like he usually did, Frankie let out a sigh. You were right of course, but that didn’t matter anyway. He squeezed you tighter as the confession spilled out before he could stop himself, “I love you.”

You gasped as you froze in place. Pushing yourself up, you looked into his eyes and saw no hint of uncertainty there. Fighting back tears, you leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, “I love you too,” you whispered against his lips.

Frankie smiled into the kiss and pulled you close once more, holding you tightly. “And I did learn my lesson,” he smirked in between kisses, feeling you smile back at that. The two of you settled down again, taking a moment to gather your strength when you let out a gasp. Frankie jumped into high alert as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot about the rest of the guys…”

[re-colligere]

What would the spies look like as villains and vice-versa?

This took me a while to get to, even though I've been thinking about it for a LONG while now...it took a lot of brainstorming (especially for the villains LOL)

Below the cut, I wrote some short character blurbs for each of them, and how different they are compared to their OG spy au counterparts!

The spy gang is admittedly a bit more straightforward than the villains. To be fair I also had a faster time figuring out the OG spies too so it's okay.

Agent Buí is our very determined and optimistic field agent! Like Miss April, she's very charismatic and just a bit goofy. She does Not have the hat of holding as an agent, but she's still inhumanely indestructible like a cartoon character. She's also a tad more careful about getting others involved in the crossfire than Miss April is.

Agent Rojo is most commonly seen as Agent Buí's field partner, though his lack of stealthiness and carefulness makes things a little more dicey for them. It's fine though, because Rojo and Buí enjoy the extra challenge. Just like Hellforge, he's very skilled in combat, he lovesss confronting people, and he abides by his moral beliefs seriously. Unlike Hellforge, he's not an engineer in any sense of the word, much less for weapons.

Agent Beguni is the resident tech wiz of the group, responsible for giving the agents a lot of gadgets and tools...though Rojo in particular complains about how "lame" his gadgets are ("Don't call them LAME they're there to PROTECT you!!") Him and Terror are similar in their general...idk patheticness? /LH and their desire to be a little less scared of everything by putting themselves in a high-risk career. Though he still gets kinda pulled by Rojo and Buí out in the field even if it's so so so scarys...

Agent Laranja is the handler and de facto "boss" of the spy gang, like Bughaw is. She likes to plan a lot but the others tend to derail them REALLY quickly, and she has to improvise along with them. It's a bit of work to get her agents under control, but she does enjoy working with them. Similarities with Axyon....might be a spoiler? They both have a background in psychology. And I guess Laranja smiles a lot more here.

I didn't include Granny (Agent Sepia) in here bc I got tired sorry </3 but she would've been a retired agent OR. a director. who keeps reminiscing of the good ol' days of espionage or something.

ANDD the villains. The guys I spent the most time on. My funny little guys

Bb. Alakdan is the villain group's primary information collector and, in some ways, their primary fighter. She specializes in socializing, fashion statements, and poison-making. She has a bunch of other needles hidden in her gloves and boots too. I almost didn't include the scorpion tail because it's So damn impractical. BUT DAMN if it isn't cool (Emile made it for her methink). Like Verte, their strengths are in charisma and persuasion. Unlike Verte, Alakdan is more willing to get her hands dirty, is more confrontational, and she has less emotional baggage about her job. Another name for her was Lady/Miss/Madame Scorpia, which, if translated in Tagalog, is Bb. Alakdan.

Vivien is Alakdan's little sister and a self-proclaimed villain-to-be!! Vivi adores everyone in the villain gang and wants to be as cool as them someday...Just like in the OG au however, her sister Dani discourages her from getting too interested in her career because it's dangerous. She's a bit more involved in the villain group though, kind of acting as their evil minion/apprentice/whatever. The others really like her and will burn the world down if anything bad happened to her. Villain name to come later if I ever come up with something for her.

The Duke of Hearts usually fills the role of Alakdan's partner-in-crime in the field. This fucking guy is actually the reason why this took so long, because I can't think of a good villain gimmick for Emby other than being the Muscle for the group (which is funny, since in the first versions of the OG spy au he WAS gonna be a villain too). I settled for a magician-type guy who's very stealthy and is also great at confusing people. He's just as socially anxious and self-conscious as Roz despite his chosen role, though I guess part of that is him wanting to get over his stage fright. While he's just as physically strong as Roz is, Duke is even more averse to getting into fights; he's truthfully not a very skilled fighter. You guys get to see this doodle I made which cemented the whole silent magician-thief thing I've got for him. Another name for him would've been Mr. Stardust, or something with King/Jack/Ace (like the suits). I don't think he would've been comfortable with being called King though. He's not the King of anything.

The hat of holding is kind of a /joke but I'm kinda obsessed with the implication that the villain group MUST have one in their possession. It's not really needed for him but damn if it isn't funny SKDJFH

Lady Tragedy is the group's mastermind and leader, and everyone pretty much respects her. Extremely clever and surprisingly persuasive, agents must be careful around her lest they hear her calming, hypnotizing voice. The mask is somewhat a mirror of Dr. Axyon's mask, but I haven't really thought about all these guys' motives and backstories too hard (I probably won't). Just like Bughaw, she's a very good leader who's very considerate of her comrades. Tragedy also has decked out mobility aids. Unlike Bughaw............................Tragedy's. a villain? I guess? I think that's literally it. Another name for her was Judge Amygdala or ANYTHING with Judge in it. Judge Tragedy is just hard to say out loud (unless that's just a me thing LOL) but I like how Lady Tragedy ended up sounding.

Emile, or Monsieur Mortelle is literally just Agent Indigo back when she was in the League if we're being honest. Nothing changed about her, I guess again other than motive reasons. She also didn't have a villain name originally, but my French partner suggested something with Mortelle because, APPARENTLY, "ennuie mortelle" is a common French saying which means "killer boredom". I think it was funny so I ended up giving that to her LOL in-universe I'd like to think that Alakdan gave her that name instead because Emile was perfectly satisfied with being called. Emile. She just kinda accepted it. ALSO BTW. Yes I'm aware the gendered words don't match, I know monsieur is masculine and mortelle is feminine That's the point ok. the point is she doesn't careeeeeeeeeeee about genderrrrrrrrrrr okay. so don't get up on my business about this. The only french opinions I care about is my partner's okay /lh

Anyways yeah my braincells were spent on the designs and the names. Probably not gonna develop this any further unless I want to do something silly with them, but nevertheless this was a fun little hypothetical to play around with!

[bellodazai]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. - Kiss it better

breaking the peaceful silence of the armed detective agency on a gorgeous sunny day was the yelp of Dazai. He who had for once had put pen to paper and was sorting through paperwork had given himself a paper cut.

"belllaaa" he whined to you from across the room to where your desks were placed, separated, as Dazai could not go for 5 minutes without distracting you in any way shape or form if you were close together. He. In his words would say "how can I not give attention to my bella when she is right there just begging for me to smoother her with kisses" he would say in a overdramatic tone as if you were dying and closing his eyes with his hand thrown over his forehead to add emphasis to the drama.

Dazai rolled his chair over to you making sure to bump into as many people as possible on his way, he stops right next to you at your desk his rolly chair bumping yours slightly making you stomp your feet to the ground to keep yourself in place.

"it hurts" he whined to you showing his tiny paper cut on his index finger which had a small white slash, not even oozing out blood. You stare at him, not phased by his dramas anymore as this was the norm. "this is a sign to never do my paper work again! to think of the time i spent slaving away today, only to be bestowed upon the paper attacking my poor flesh!" he said quite loudly causing an irritated Kunikida to shoot Dazai a glare as if to say "shut up" from the commotion he was causing in the one peaceful office. You gave his forehead a gentle kiss before saying "you'll be fine, now off to work please." Dazai stared at you for a split second flustered by your affection big brown eyes staring at you. The PDA doesn't go unnoticed by Kunikida who voices his displeasure with this being a "professional space" and not a place for PDA. Dazai just snickers, ready to antagonise Kunikida who can never catch a break. "you're just jealous that I have a beautiful girlfriend and you don't" he jeered towards his partner while half throwing his body onto yours over the rolly chair armrests. his words resulted in a threat being yelled at towards Dazai by a poor overwhelmed Kunikida.

You stand up before Dazai could say anything else, rolling Dazai back to his desk by pushing is chair his feet dragging against the ground in protest. he sighs loudly at his desk and begins to recklessly sort out his paperwork and not even a minute later theres a high pitched shriek from Dazai who yells out "i'm bleeding! the paper has yet again damaged me, i'm bleeding out now!" Before Kunikida can yell at Dazai again who looks at Dazai as if he is ready to strangle him, you grab Dazai by the arm pulling him into the infirmary currently empty a small smirk plastered onto his face shot towards Kunikida unnoticed by you.

Dazai sits on the bed long legs touching the ground, you look around finding some alcohol wipes and some bandaids before placing the items on the bed next to Dazai's seated form. Grabbing his bleeding index finger you take one alcohol wipe dabbing the small open wound wiping away the blood. His face winces in slight discomfort from the sting of the wipe on the wound. "this is what you get for acting recklessly Osamu" you said softly tossing the wipe in the bin before grabbing the bandaid and wrapping it around his index finger.

You keep ahold of his finger as he whines about how much his poor poor finger hurts and how he will never do paperwork again. Bringing his finger to your lips you gently kiss it softly causing Dazai's breath to hitch for a moment in slight shock, he stares at you lips parted slightly. "better?" you ask with a smile, a small smirk at making Dazai flustered. Gaining back his composure Dazai shakes his head "hurts here too" he said giving you his other index finger holding it up in front of your face waiting for you to kiss his other finger, to which you do earning a mischievous look to flash in his eyes.

"i knocked my head today here" he said with a sad tone pointing to his forehead. "kiss it better?" he asked jutting his bottom lip out into a pout which you can't say no to leaning down slightly to kiss his forehead.

"and here" he said as he kept directing you to different places in his face to kiss. "you know what hurts the most and is in desperate need for your precious healing kiss?" he asked hiding his smirk.

Dazai pointed to his lips and innocent look on his face. "my lips are in agony for your lips to give me a healing kiss to relinquish me from the horrors of injury" he exclaimed. You stare at him unamused by his antics but he grips your wrists not letting you move away from him.

"bella" he pouts "kiss kiss?" he said making kissing noises. "kiss kiss pain go away?" he said in a sad, innocent way. You lean down and press your lips to his gently, Dazai doesn't waste any time reciprocating, letting go of your wrists to bring his hands to cup your cheeks urging for more, whining when you pull away. "one more? it still hurts." he said still feigning misery from his 'pain'.

"no more Osamu' you giggle. "we need to go back to work if you want to go home on time today." he shakes his head in protest "just one more bella?" Dazai brings one of his hands to his heart, placing it palm down, the other raised slightly in the air "if you give me another kiss I promise to do some dreadful paperwork"

"Just one more" you smiled before leaning down to kiss him again.

©bellodazai 2024

thank you for the love on the last post ❤️😭 I hope you enjoy this one :) Likes and reblogs are appreciated

dividers by @/benkeibear

taglist @saelique

[themeraldee]

SO WHAT IF: homelander got with a Female SO who is a screamer in bed. Not because it hurts but it feels sooo good. Better if she’s a quiet, timid employee at vought he finds endearing.

(He is so interesting. I can see him with strong women as seen in the show, but he would also like a submissive thing that fawns over him. He’s so versatile with ships!)

yessss yesssssssss

the semi-public sex would go HARD.

Also I'd love to see Homelander discover this. Such a difference to when they're just being cute and lovely or interacting at work. Here's her screaming his praises. Even though timid, she'd be making sure he knows how good it feels. Having had partners before who either found her vocal cries either disturbing or annoying, she wants to make sure he knows she's feeling good. All thanks to him.

Also at first she's super quiet and holds back, not wanting to be too much and freak him out. Until he forces it out of her one way or another...

lil 18+ snippet below cut

He knows you've always been reluctant to move your bedroom activities to other, more risky, places. Yet the thought of getting everyone to hear you get the life fucked out of you sounded too good to pass on.

"You gotta keep quiet for me sweetheart. Or everyone out there is gonna hear you sing for me." Except he has you on your back on your office desk, bent in half, knees next to your chest as he's stuffing you full of his cock. The squelching noise your bodies make on each slide is deafening enough without your screams and moans getting in the way.

Before he buried himself in you, he's spent good time getting you ready, feasting on your cunt until you were sopping wet and ready to take him the way you always want to. Full throttle without stopping.

And with each thrust you get louder and louder. You mumble just how good, ahh ahh, s'good it feels. How good he feels. It's barely coherent but Homelander licks up every word of praise from your lips.

Now that he's learned how to get you to let go he doesn't hesitate to abuse the sensitive spot inside you with short snappy thrusts until you sing for him freely.

Although there's no debating whether or not your moans are easily heard from the hallway, the answer comes swiftly anyway.

Someone knocks on the door. "Uhmm, is everything okay? I've come to bring you the paperwork you asked for." One of your co-workers sounds from the other side of the door.

Homelander takes pleasure in knowing it's the off-putting man he's seen attempt to flirt with you. Yes, let him hear. Let him hear how nobody could ever make you scream this way. Nobody but Homelander.

He gives you a head tilt that says 'see?' and he clamps his hand over your mouth while he rams you even harder. The wooden desk legs squeak horribly against the floor as the desk moves forward with every snap of his hips.

Still, Homelander puts good effort into keeping his voice stable. "Buddy, now's really not the time. Leave it till tomorrow."

"B-b-but." Even though the man is usually oblivious to Homelander's presence anytime he oversees his inappropriate behaviour, at least now he understands there's more at stake.

"Leave." His eyes power up automatically with his tone and while the disaster of a man can't see him, the shift in atmosphere is palpable.

At least from his perspective. Homelander's still fucking your brains out and you're barely aware of the situation. It feels too good to give up on the haze of pleasure lighting up your nerves and force yourself to face the real world where there's embarrassment that comes with nearly getting caught.

He watches the guy scuttle off at his menacing tone.

Finally, Homelander returns his attention back fully to you.

"Look how much attention you're attracting." He lets himself get back in the moment. His voice wavers when you squeeze around him.

"What's that, hah you want more?" He grips onto the desk, letting his pent up energy go into splintering the wood and not the fragile bones of your pelvis.

"Bet they'd all love to see what you're screaming for huh? Maybe I should let them. Let them know I'm the only fucking one to get you singing like this. Fffuck, yeah that's it. Feel so fucking good baby..." With his hand wedged in between your bodies he strokes your clit into completion.

Your screams are muffled by the leather of Homelander's glove and you let yourself scream your heart out as your cunt finally pulses around him with orgasm. The desk finally gives in and breaks when he spills inside you.

He puts all the force he wants to squeeze you with into destroying the office furniture. Because at the end of the day you're the irreplaceable one.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Thinking about Astarion having to deal with his reclaimed mortality once the initial euphoria of it is wearing off: 

When he’s startled from sleep, woken by his own racing heartbeat. 

Him jumping at the movement in the corner of his eye, only to find it’s just his own reflection staring right back at him, puzzled, before he watches his cheeks redden with embarrassment. 

The sun slowly losing its appeal as time goes on because Astarion keeps getting nasty sunburns after days spent outside, trying to make up for centuries confined to darkness. Whenever he comes home with itching skin and drenched in sweat, he finds himself almost missing hiding in the shadows. 

The odd sensation of feeling more and less at the same time: while some of his senses are now dulled to better suit mortality, others feel heightened to the point of sensory overload—a gust of wind feels like fire licking at his skin and he gets so very anxious whenever he loses Tav in the crowd, unable to distinguish them by the once divine scent of their blood any longer. 

Since he has a reliant supply of his own blood pumping through his veins now, he’s feeling aroused so much easier and more often than not at quite inconvenient times. He enjoyed having sex with Tav before, but now that he’s mortal again, he finds that he’s having to overthink intimacy once again—where his desires used to be driven by burning hunger, lust now feels like a pleasant, more natural bodily reaction. Having to seriously consider contraceptive measures, should his partner be able to get pregnant, is also a rather novel experience for him.  

Bathing still feels as good as before, at least. But where he spent hours in the bathroom out of pointless vanity then, Astarion now has to wash himself because his body would stink of sweat and, well, life otherwise. It will be years before he openly excuses himself for having to use the bathroom whenever nature calls.

And food—food would be the hardest to adjust to. It takes a lot of trial and error to find something that pleases his virgin taste buds (although he swears there’re some odd pieces of memories flashing in front of his eyes whenever he's snacking on wild strawberries or awfully sweet citron tarts). He ends up acquiring a taste for raw cookie dough, shredded cheese and sardines, eating little else for the next two years or so. To everyone's astonishment, he's gotten food poisoning only once or twice.

Astarion is no stranger to pain or injury, but he’s appalled by how long it takes to recover from the most minor cuts and bruises. It’s a well-kept secret between him and Tav that his first common cold had him convinced he was dying for a fortnight straight. 

Crying is much easier now, too.

Ironically, it’s mortality that forces Astarion to strive for more permanent, detail-oriented plans for the future. Now that life is finite, he wants to use the time he has wisely. He might keep travelling the realms until he breathes his last, or settle down, eventually. He might learn a new profession or accumulate some wealth in less honest ways. Maybe, one day, he wants to have a family, heirs to whatever he decides to make his own. 

Once Astarion has come to terms with being a mortal elf again, he realises living is not just about a beating heart. Living is about having endless possibilities but limited time. Choices and decisions that lead to only one thing: death. 

Now that Astarion is living again, he finally understands that death is just another part of the journey.

[star-girl69]

American Teenager

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you get caught in the crossfire of clarisse’s anger, and have to convince clarisse you love every part of her.

a/n: i took over a year off, cut you bitches some slack…… TELL A FRIEND TO TELL A FRIEND… SHE’S BAAAAAACKKKK!!!!!!!!!

for those who do not know, i changed my theme. yes it is me. do you like it 😀

American Teenager - Ethel Cain

warnings: NOT BETA READ!!!, ending sucks yet again but i cant be bothered, y/n gets PUNCHED!!!!!!, creepy men, violence, very sad clarisse, IT IS VERY HARD FOR HER TO TALK ABOUT HER FEELINGS BUT SHE TRIES, swearing, usual demigod stuff, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse is angry.

She has been angry all of her life, you know that. She was born with a fire in her veins that came straight from her godly father, potent and rolling around inside of her like a storm, a rabid dog biting at a cage, and nurtured over the years by a stern mother.

Clarisse was a recipe for destruction, for pain, for suffering. That’s what most people thought she was. They all thought she was her father’s daughter- full of fire, and she would never be anything else except the mean bully all the campers had grown to somewhat resent.

But she was more than that. She was your girl, she was everything you wanted and had prayed for years for. You knew she was angry, you knew she carried regret in her heart, you knew she ate up anything nice inside of her long ago.

But you didn’t care.

You gave her some of your own softness, your own nicety, drew it out of her with soft touches and sweet words, until she learned to love you and believed that she was the girl you always saw hidden inside.

Clarisse is angry.

You know that, you know the harsh girl you fell in love with, and you know the sweet girl she really is.

So, it’s no surprise to you that Clarisse has spent the entire afternoon glued to your side, glaring at anyone who walks by- but particularly her brother, Caden.

Caden has some sort of inferiority complex coupled with extreme sexism. He couldn’t stand the fact Clarisse was better than him, that she was the camp counselor instead of him. She had received her beloved spear from their father, he had no gifts to show.

Somewhere in his fucked up head he realized he couldn’t force his father to notice him, couldn’t uproot Clarisse from her counselor position, and though the next best thing was to go after you.

It started with glances that lasted too long, then subtle touches during camp activities, then actively flirting with you when Clarisse wasn’t around.

The only reason Caden had been allowed to this for this long was because you didn’t want to tell Clarisse and be responsible for what could very possibly be Caden’s death. You felt dirty, having his hands on you, barely-hidden sexual remarks whispered in your ear, his eyes on you- practically undressing you.

Clarisse would kill him if she knows what he’s done, how it makes you feel. And you really don’t want blood on your hands, so you avoid him as much as possible and attach yourself to Clarisse.

It’s a rare afternoon that you both have free, and it’s snatched with greedy hands and stretched out long like molasses, the two of you move slow and leisurely, try to sink into this time together.

You promised your sister you would help with the arts and crafts class she runs, spewing something about how you’re the best at making friendships bracelets- but really, her usual partner is on a quest and taking care of the rowdy 12 year olds is not an individual task.

So, here you are, sitting at a picnic table and making sample bracelets, feeling the sun on your face and Clarisse’s arms around you. She sits sideways, her front pressed against your side, straddling the bench. She watches the way the sun hits your face, the way your fingers move swiftly as you continue to bead and tie together.

There’s been this pit in your stomach since Caden started his advances- like a new organ had formed inside of you, pure black instead of a usual pink flesh. A physical form of all your guilt and disgust, filled with the dirt like you felt like.

It’s still there, even through the gaps of hot sunlight, the cooling shade of the tree above, but it’s easier to ignore when Clarisse is there. It’s easier to ignore, but it’s still there.

“I don’t understand how you’re so good at those,” Clarisse mumbles. She kisses your shoulder and you dig your feet into the dirt, smiling to yourself.

“I don’t either,” you smile. “What can I say? I’m the queen of friendship bracelets.”

“Ha,” she says, somewhat sarcastically, but you can hear the fond, loving smile in her voice. “How much longer?” she asks.

“Two more. Maybe 10 more minutes?”

“Okay,” she hums, drawing out the word. “Wanna get somethin’ to eat after this?”

“Yeah,” you say, looking away from the bracelets for just a second- to admire her like she gets to admire you.

“Nah, nah, you better finish those bracelets so I can have all your attention on me again.” She presses her face against yours, pushing you to face forward again and focus.

She departs with a kiss to corner of your lips, and you wonder if you really need all six example bracelets, but you know your sister would kill you if you didn’t show up tomorrow with six. You sigh and turn back to your bracelets, listening to the sweet sound of Clarisse laughing.

“Okay,” she says, leaning closer to you after a minute. “I’ll be back in a few, okay? I’m just gonna go change into shorts.”

“Okay,” you smile, and she squeezes your waist as she stands up. The feeling inside of you sinks in even more, the blackness in your stomach, but you focus on the feeling of the sun and her promise that she’ll come back soon.

“First time I’ve seen you alone in weeks.”

Your stomach sinks.

You’re a demigod and you deal with monsters and the whims of gods daily- but there’s something about humans, about demigods that makes you especially scared.

A step below a God, filled with resentment and blessed with superhuman abilities.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt fear like this.

You glance up at him, quickly gathering all your bracelet supplies, shoving it into the pockets of your jeans without much care.

You force a smile, pretend like nothing’s wrong.

“Sorry,” you say. “I’m just leaving. Nice seeing you, Caden!”

“Why you leavin’ so quick, baby?”

“Meeting Clarisse,” you smile through gritted teeth.

“Well, I just saw my sister walk away so… are you lying to me, Y/N?” he laughs slightly, almost as if the idea of you not being completely observing of his will is unheard of, laughable.

“Yeah, I was just finishing up.” You shove a pile of beads into your pocket, moving for the next one-

His hand covers yours.

“You don’t look done. Sit down, huh?”

You glance around the courtyard, not even bothering to hide your fear like you were taught- at the sight of him, his tall stature, the fact he could easily overpower you- you forget everything you ever learned and turn into a puddle of fear. You’re fucking terrified, and it would be humiliating if it wasn’t just the most basic human tendencies preserving in you.

You can’t be embarrassed about biology, about what your human body was designed to do. At the end of the day, your blood is red- not gold.

“No, no, I really gotta go.” You rip your hand away, mourning the loss of a few beads that didn’t quite escape with you. Instead of dwelling on that, you quickly turn around and head towards the main pavilion, where there are more campers- maybe you can find Matty or Carrie, another one of Clarisse’s siblings who would just get him off your back.

But, he follows. Of course he follows. He’s a man who’s never been told no, and he won’t be refused by you.

“Y/N,” he drawls, voice still teasing.

You clench your fists and walk faster, finally risking a glance over your shoulder- you slam into a familiar warm body you have spent countless nights with, now wearing a pair of jean shorts.

One hand swings around your waist, the other sits over her hip- where her favorite dagger is hidden.

“Y/N?” she asks, not taking her eyes off of Caden, but her voice is soft and full of concern.

“Nothing, Clar. It’s fine, let’s just go, yeah?”

She looks at you for just a second, and you haven’t had time to school your features back into a flat facade, so there’s still fear all over your face.

“What the fuck did you do, Caden?”

“Just tryin’ to spend time with Y/N. That a crime?”

He avoids calling you her girlfriend, even though that’s how most of the Ares cabin has come to know you.

“Yeah,” she says, slightly incredulously. “You hit your head too hard? She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend. I don’t know what you did, but don’t do it again.”

It’s like a sixth sense, the way you feel his eyes rake down your body, lingering on your ass. The blackness inside of you squeezes, and you feel the sudden urge to throw up, squeezing your eyes shut-

Clarisse tugs you behind her.

“Don’t fucking look at her, Caden.”

Her voice is level in barely-masked rage, and it honestly would scare you a little bit- if it wasn’t for the way her hand caressed your hip so softly.

“I’m not hurtin’ anyone. She probably likes it, huh?”

You wonder if he genuinely thinks he’s flirting with you, or just trying to piss Clarisse off.

Her jaw clenches.

“Four weeks laundry duty.”

His smile drops.

“Don’t fucking test me, Caden.”

You’re silently surprised at her strength, so you quickly grab her hand and squeeze, trying to urge her forward. Your stomach feels lighter, hoping that maybe- finally, finally he’ll leave you alone-

“Really, Clarisse?” The edge of desperation in his tone is pathetic. “You’re gonna choose her over your own half-brother. We both know who’d she choose between the two of us though, huh? The stronger one. The better one. She’d choose the son.”

She drops your hand and spins around.

“Clarisse,” you warn. “Clarisse.”

But she seems to be lost in her own world, where everything narrows down to him and the cocky look on his face, memory of his words, and you know any trace of your sweet girl is gone and it’s just the anger.

You quickly push yourself in between them, putting your hands out to Clarisse- you feel sort of stupid, but you’re desperate for her to just turn around, to take you with her, for the two of you to do like she said and get something to eat. You want to eat by the beach with her, you want to feel her in the sun, you wanna let yourself believe that four weeks of laundry duty will deter him.

“Y/N,” she says, warning you, and you know she won’t stop.

“Clarisse, I’m telling you, turn around. He’s not worth it.”

You can hear his smile.

“You won’t be saying that when I finally get my hands on you, baby.”

Fuck.

“Clarisse!” you shout, knowing its coming- she aims around you, pushing you out of the way as she sets a deadly punch on path with his face.

But it doesn’t hit him. It doesn’t hit him, and he gasps in shock before quickly running away, not wanting to deal with the consequences of his actions.

And you can’t blame him, because with your knees on the ground and the sting of Clarisse’s fist on your cheek- you should have just let her fucking kill him.

—-

Clarisse hasn’t looked at you in two weeks.

After you fell to the ground, completely disoriented by her punch, you remember the sound of her screaming and Caden laughing as he ran away. You remember her hands shaking as she helped you up, touching you as little as possible, staring at her now red knuckles.

Although you really didn’t have to, she led you to the healers, and one of the Apollo kids looked at your swelling eye, gave you something for the pain, and said you could leave.

And then, she made sure you got home safe to your cabin and hasn’t looked at you again.

In hindsight, knowing that that was the end of the relationship you used to have, it feels like a bad goodbye for something so good. You can’t even call it a goodbye, because it wasn’t good at all. There should have been something. Something more.

You remember the way Clarisse couldn’t stop staring at her bruised knuckles, you remember the way she couldn’t look you in your eyes, couldn’t touch you- wouldn’t allow herself to touch you.

That night, the relationship you had with Clarisse ended. But, you were still as in love with her as ever, you didn’t blame her for simply trying to protect you- you were the person who stepped in front of her. One second you weren’t there, the next you were. She didn’t have time to pull her punch, she didn’t have time to aim somewhere else- you don’t blame her.

You remember her saying she was sorry as she helped you to the healers. Sorry, over and over again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. You almost asked her to stop saying it, because the word was starting to sound weird. You almost told her it was unnecessary-because it was- but you didn’t get the chance. She made sure you got home safe to your cabin. She said she was sorry again, and then two weeks of torture commenced.

And you’re fucking sick of it. Sick of her acting like a coward, running away instead of owning up to the consequences of her actions- you aren’t mad at her for punching you. You never were.

You’re mad at her for leaving you in the days after, the nights where you couldn’t sleep on your favorite side because of the bruise. The nights where you would yawn and tears would well in your eyes, and it burned as it rolled down the sensitive skin. The nights where you would forget, and you would expect her to crawl into your bed like usual- but you would fall asleep alone and wake up alone.

You’re mad at her for abandoning you, for refusing to talk to you, to figure it out. Because while what you had before is gone, you can still have something new.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” your friend Tyla asks.

“Yeah,” Jackie, your other friend, continues. “Like, she did literally punch you in the fucking face- are we sure that’s not some sort of subconscious thing?”

She shrinks at the harsh glares you and Tyla give her.

“Okay. That was mean,” she says, softly. “Sorry.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking towards the training fields, where you know the entire Ares cabin is practicing hand-to-hand skills.

“I told you,” you huff. “She was trying to protect me from Caden. She loves me, she’s just angry. Angry at herself, but she shouldn’t be.”

“What even happened to Caden?” Tyla asks, noses scrunching at the fact she has to even say his name. “I mean, I saw him walking around with that broken face but-”

“Clarisse!”

You look up to the top of the small hill, the plateau where the sparring rings are marked into the grass by eco-friendly spray paint.

She’s holding one of her siblings down, her knee on his back, her hands holding his arms behind his back.

“Stop! I tap out, I tap out, Clarisse!” The boy screams. She smiles softly before letting him go and standing up.

He lays face down on the ground for a minute, breathing heavily before he finally picks himself up- staring at Clarisse’s offered hand. After a moment, he takes it and lets her tug him up. He nods at her and walks away to his friends, moaning about his arms and his back.

Clarisse shakes out her hands and looks around, but she knows no one wants to spar with her after that, even thought even from here you can see the fire in her veins. The need for a fight, for something to distract her. The need for movement, hard and fast. The need for anger to be the only thing she can feel.

“Me next?”

“Y/N,” Tyla hisses, and Jackie reaches out to grab you but you merely shake her off.

Clarisse’s eyes lock with yours.

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion in her eyes. Her body tenses up, she seems frozen in place like a deer in headlights. She’s scared.

“Clar,” you smile, meeting her in the circle.

She tears her eyes away from you, choosing instead to stare at the grass.

“I’m not fighting you. Go.”

“I’m not asking you to fight me,” you smile. “I’m asking you to spar with me.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not sparring with you.”

It’s so tense, no matter how much you try to make it like before, no matter how much you smile and try to look in her eyes.

“Can I talk with you, then?”

You shuffle closer, and she doesn’t move.

“Y/N,” she sighs. She looks up at you, but you can tell she’s staring right past you, towards the tree line. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Do what?” you snort. “Face your feelings? Let me help you?”

Her face is level, almost bored. She turns her face into a facade, a mask of nothingness. She won’t let you in, not now, and it makes you angry.

You would take anything from her right now.

You want her to hate you. You want her to love you. You want everything and anything.

You would take another punch, as long as you got to feel her skin on yours for a split second.

You dig your foot into the ground and glare at her.

“Clarisse. I’m serious, I want to talk to you.”

Her eyes meet yours for a split second, before she’s moving.

“Too bad. Forget me,” she says over her shoulder.

She fucks up and she runs away.

“Clarisse!” you shout, following her out of the training field, out of view from the eyes that were trying and failing not to look at the two of you. “You can’t leave me here. You can’t just pretend like the last year we’ve been together didn’t happen.”

“It’s better that way,” she sighs, like she’s doing you some big favor by staying away from you, when all she’s doing is hurting you.

“It’s not!” you shout, finally surging forward and grabbing her wrist-

She whips around and tugs her wrist out of your grip.

You don’t think she’s ever once refused your touch.

It burns. It burns in your heart so badly, burns worse than any regret you could ever feel.

“Don’t,” she says, like she’s warning you. “I’m- I’m trying to protect you, okay? Just- stop bein’ fuckin’ stubborn.”

You take a dejected step back, even though all you want to do is run into her arms.

“I don’t get it,” she continues, folding her hands behind her back. Her eyes finally land on the faded bruise. “Why don’t you hate me?”

The heartbreak in her voice hurts more than the punch, than the nights without her.

“Because I love you, Clar. I don’t care about what happened, it was an accident- you’re the only one who can’t see that.”

“I hurt you.”

“The only thing that hurts is you being away from me.”

“Nah,” she says, taking a step back. She shakes her head, staring at your eye before finally turning away. “I’m only anger, Y/N. I’ll only hurt you. And I can’t take hurting you again.”

The feeling of staring at her back, the sound of her footsteps crunching in the leaves, hurts so bad it creates another new organ in your body.

This time, it’s like a tumor growing from your heart, encasing it so every beat is a struggle, every breath is ragged. This new organ carries your heartbreak, and it grows bigger by the second.

—-

It’s starting to feel like Clarisse is never going to even look at you again.

Even when you look straight at her from across the pavilion, she doesn’t look back. You stare at her back all day. The memory of her walking away from you replays in your mind every time you close your eyes.

You wonder, when it’s just you in your lonely bed, if Clarisse isn’t angry but rather scared. She’s angry at herself for hurting you, yes, but she’s terrified she’ll do it again. And you know Clarisse rarely feels fear, and you want nothing more but to help her navigate these unknown feelings- but she won’t let you in.

You don’t know how to let her help you, but you give her time. You stare at her when you hope she isn’t looking, you wrap your arms around yourself and pretend it’s her, you dream of her lips and the way she holds you, the way she loves you.

Clarisse took you to the docks for one of your dates. The fourth? The fifth? Somewhere around there, but it was the first time you kissed. Both of you had realized that you liked each other but agreed to take it slow, but you’d never forget the way she looked at you after you put the flower she brought you into your hair. The way she looked at you when you let your feet hang over the edge, kicking the water. The way your thigh pressed against hers, ankles hooked together.

You’ll never forget the way you looked up at her after dipping your fingers into the cool water, the control and self restraint finally leaving her eyes, her body, as her face sunk into a wide smile and she slammed her lips into yours.

The dock is sacred to the two of you, so when you’re missing her, especially during this sunset, this is where you go.

And it’s perfect. It’s so perfect you can almost convince yourself she’s here with you.

Except, if she was here with you, there wouldn’t be this tumor on your heart.

At the sound of his voice, the other organ your emotions have formed twists.

“This wasn’t my plan, y’know.”

“Go away, Caden,” you moan. Is it a crime to want to wallow in your own self pity? It is a crime to want the black organs inside of you to swallow you whole?

“I just wanted to knock Clarisse down a few pegs, and I certainly did that. Paid the price, too, you seen my fuckin’ face?”

It looks as horrible as it always does, you think, but you bite your tongue.

“I wanna be alone, Caden. Please.” You bite the word out like you’re a hyena choking on a laugh.

“But, c’mon.”

He steps closer to you, until you can feel him looming over you, tips of his sneakers pressing into your ass, he’s so close to you. You kick the water, annoyed, but he either doesn’t get the hint or ignores it.

“I’m not that bad, am I? Do me a favor, baby, let me cart you around for a few days and make her miserable.”

You’re about to just get up and leave all together when the sound of someone stepping onto the dock surprises you.

“Get away from her.”

But there’s something unspoken in the air. You’re just “her” now- not “my girlfriend” not “her’s.”

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering me, Clarisse?”

You turn around. She smiles sarcastically.

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering Y/N?”

“I’m not botherin’ her though, huh?”

He reaches down to grab at a piece of your hair, running it in between his fingers.

You flinch, but you’re more focused on the way Clarisse’s fists clench, her jaw ticks.

“Caden,” you sigh, batting his hand away.

“Seems like a pretty clear no to me, huh?”

Caden sighs and straightens, letting your hair fall from his fingers.

“What are you going to do about it, Clarisse? You gonna try and punch me- again? Try to hit the right person this time, huh?”

“Go fuck yourself, Caden.” She finally, finally, looks at you. You feel blessed and divine, like she’s a goddess who’s taken the time to merely look at you. “C’mon, Y/N.”

You scramble up to follow her beckoning hand at the same time Caden shifts on his feet.

He knocks into you, and you’re on the edge of the dock, and you scream as you fall in.

The water wasn’t that deep, but it was cold and embarrassing, and you fell at an awkward angle.

You surface, paddling to keep yourself afloat, coughing water out of your mouth and glaring up at him.

“Shit,” he swears, quickly running down the dock before you can shout some curse on his entire bloodline.

“Y/N?!” Clarisse shouts, panic on her face falling immediately at the sight of you afloat. She breathes out, fixing her hair that got all moved around in her frantic sprint down the dock. “You good?”

“Does it look like I’m good?” you deadpan.

She smiles.

“C’mon, come around to the ladder.”

She smiles as she helps you up, wrapping an arm around you even though you’re soaking wet, and you’re so mesmerized at the sight of her smiling, the feeling of her smiling at you that you can’t even comprehend it.

She has her arm wrapped around you.

She’s touching you.

Gods, did you miss this.

“Cold?” she asks, your hips pressed together as you walk down the dock.

“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling how warm she is against you. “I’ll be okay, though.”

“How long has he been… doing that?”

Your eyes meet hers.

“Jackie and Tyla told me- yelled at me, really- after they cornered me the other day. They said you were really fucked up about everything, and I should talk to you and I- I don’t know. I thought staying away was for the best.”

You cringe at the memory from a few nights ago, when you finally broke down and cried like a baby in front of your friends because of how much you missed her.

“And I saw you at the dock, and then fuckin’ Caden got over here before I could,” she laughs, dryly. “Whatever. I’ll walk you back-”

“Will you talk to me, Clar?”

You both stop, beachy sand sticks to your wet shoes, and Clarisse nervously looks away before you prod.

“I’m not mad at you. And I know you’re mad at yourself, and scared-”

She scoffs, but it’s halfhearted.

“But I love you, Clarisse. I love you, and I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself, and love me.”

In the sunlight, you can still see the remnants of the bruise. Softly, she reaches out and traces her pointer finger around your eye.

Her touch is so soft, the pad of her finger so rough- that sweet juxtaposition with her has always made your mind fuzzy. She makes all the tension in your body melt away. She makes everything better.

She swallows hard.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. “I know I’ve said it so much, but I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear on my father-”

Her voice chokes up, and you can tell she hates the fact she’s crying, so you draw her into your neck and let her hide away there. Running your hands through her hair, telling her it’s okay each time she apologizes.

“I know who you are,” you say when the tears have stopped, and you’re just relishing being in each other’s arms again. “I know who I fell in love with, and I know who you are. You’re angry and you’re sweet, you’re mean and you’re kind, and I love all of it. Don’t doubt that, please.”

She breathes out before leaving the comfort of your neck, putting her shaky hands on your face.

“I love all of you,” you repeat.

She smiles softly.

“I love all of you.”

She kisses your eye softly, literally almost like a butterfly landing on your eyelid, unable to not whisper one more apology against your skin.

You roll your eyes, smiling to match her.

“And don’t think I’d leave you over one mistake, seriously, La Rue. You insult me.”

She rolls her eyes too, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Oh, forgive me,” she teases.

“You’re already forgiven,” you smile, eyes traveling down to the lips you’ve been dreaming about. “But kiss me to make sure.”

—-

“-and he would just look at me all the time. That was the creepiest part, I think. Like, okay, he would feel up on me sometimes, but whatever. I could avoid him. At meals I would just be minding my business and he would be staring at me. More just annoying, you know? And, yeah. That made me feel horrible, like literally sick. I just felt so dirty, so fucked up- Clar?”

You watch as she stares up at the ceiling, cracking her knuckles.

“Clarisse,” you scold.

You shift from your stomach to your side, head propped up so you can properly look at her. Your bed is full and warm now that she’s here.

“Oh, no, keep goin’, baby.”

“Do not kill him. Do not hurt him. I told you, I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“Nah, I know, sweetheart. I’m just thinking about it, don’t take that away from me, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but a smile crosses its way onto your face. She smiles back, and it just feels so surreal, so different- but exactly like it’s supposed to be. You know Clarisse is angry, but you know she’s sweet too. Clarisse knows you love all of her.

She draws you to lay on her chest, hand in your hair, the other slipping under your shirt to scratch your back.

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me,” she whispers. “That’s the worst thing. You were dealing with all this alone- and I had no fucking idea.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause being with you made it better, of course you didn’t notice.”

She kisses your forehead. “You’re too sweet, baby.”

You smile and kiss her chest.

“I’m only not killing him ‘cause you asked, I hope you know that. If it was up to me, he’d be dead.”

“Oh, baby, I know lots of other ways we can channel that emotion.”

You glance up at her and she searches your eyes before promptly throwing you to the side and climbing on top of you.

Yeah, Clarisse is angry. But you love her angry.

—-

clarisse staring at her hands like they’re covered in blood: oh gods… oh gods what have i done. what have i done (again that picture of ivan the terrible holding his d3ad son)

y/n: ouch! ok anyways- girl you did not kill me calm down.

—-

caden trying not to die after clarisse inconveniences him for the sixth time today… hides his favorite sword, permanently sticks him on laundry duty, puts literal “kick me” signs on his back, puts holes in his favorite clothes…

—-

y/n is that one song that goes “FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY I NEED A FREAK TO DRIVE ME CRAZZYYYYY”

…and she’s so real for that.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1 @maxlynn17

@thewritingbarbie

—-

from this ask

[auteurdefeu]

We all know Alastor is great at seeing what people want most, what they fear, how their emotions can so easily be played. It’s how he got Charlie to make the deal when she knew she shouldn’t. He’s so good at knowing how to make people vulnerable and get under their skin.

There’s just so much ammo for Lucifer when he shows up. An absentee father, an even worse king, his entire family cast him from his home to burn forever and then his wife left him too, the one who was known for being capable. The fact Charlie is naive enough to see Alastor as a father figure as well just perfectly plays into it, and from the start, it seems so easy to get to Lucifer of all people. Someone who’s supposed to be so great, so easy to crumble with his ego and emotions.

Those initial interactions were a shock to Lucifer’s system. How dare a sinner speak to him with such open disrespect? What choice did he have but to fight fire with fire? (read: song battle)

But then the surprise of it all starts wearing off. He knows to expect it. He saw how broken Alastor was after fighting Adam, a reminder of just how fragile sinners’ souls are compared to that of a fallen seraphim. At the same time, Charlie had happily accepted Lucifer back into her life as her father. It’s not going to erase the years spent apart and his struggles with depression, but it’s a start. And he knows Alastor’s no real threat to him.

So at some point, Alastor’s jabs start being met with casualty, almost dismissively. It shifts from a playful annoyance like calling him short to something… well, cutting deeper. He doubles down upon how Lucifer abandoned his daughter, all so that he could hide with his toys, making himself a fool in his own nation.

Lucifer’s just making coffee. Saying that’s probably true, but Charlie is a kind soul who let him back into her life.

Not the reaction Alastor wanted again. So he pressed further, even blaming this dismissive attitude he had now as being why Lilith left. How could she have ever loved a man too scared to engage. She was always at the forefront of the show while he was too busy being buried in shame to be an even decent partner.

“One of many reasons, I’d guess”

It really irritates Alastor how much this isn’t getting to him. Lucifer had come to the hotel a terribly insecure man, so easy to mess with. And now, nothing?

Over the course of a week or so he keeps trying. And Lucifer just isn’t reacting. He cannot for the life of him figure out why. He knows everything he mentions is still an upset, it’s obvious in the way he talks with other people or the things he avoids, but it’s like he has some sort of verbal armor to Alastor’s attempts at drawing out a reaction from him.

The sad truth just ends up being that, whatever Alastor says, Lucifer’s said worse about himself. He’s had years to find every little detail about himself that could’ve been the catalyst for Lilith leaving, every little trait she likely despised for centuries, tearing apart the blurring memories of her face to see which expressions were genuine. Either everything about him, every step he’s made wrong, everything he’s lost or been forced to give up, he has a list of 20 things minimum as to why it’s all his fault. Alastor’s brutality is a toddlers insult compared to the things he thinks about himself.

The devil is madly depressed and just vibing his way through life ❤️

[d0llcuries]

could you make a one-shot or hc (idk) of things neteyam does to show love to his partner and loving and deep thoughts he has about her? please

neteyam isn’t shy when it comes to showing love, especially when it’s you.

he perceives love as something to be demonstrated openly, proudly.

from the moment he decided that you were the one for him, it was as though something primal and unshakable settled into his bones, dictating his every move around you with a sense of purpose.

that being said, hunting is one of the first things he uses to display his affection.

it is what he knows, what he has been trained to do since his hands were old enough to grip a bow. but when it comes to you, hunting takes on a new significance.

he does not just hunt for survival—he hunts to provide for you, to ensure that you have the finest meat, the best cuts. when he returns from a successful hunt, he brings the kill to you with a quiet pride, his chest puffed out just a little more as he lays the offering at your feet.

he watches your reaction closely, waiting for the moment your lips curve into that soft smile that makes his heart race, waiting for the look of approval that makes the hours of tracking, stalking, and fighting worth every second.

his hands never stray far. public displays of affection are a given with him

he is unapologetic in his need to touch you. he doesn’t care if his family sees. in fact, he relishes it. if he senses even the slightest bit of fluster in you, it only encourages him.

if it makes you blush? good. that means he’ll do it again—so casual about it, like he doesn’t even realize.

he relishes in the way you shy away, pretending to be annoyed, but he knows the truth—you love the attention just as much as he loves giving it.

but goodness it wouldn't kill him to show a little more propriety.

he purrs, too, openly and without a trace of shame.

it doesn't matter if it’s just you two are alone or in the middle of a crowd. you touch him? he purrs. you laugh? he purrs. it’s automatic, and he doesn’t try to hide it, his chest rumbling every time you’re close.

he makes sure you hear it, because it’s for you.

your mere presence makes him so instinctively happy why should he surpress that?

he's so inadvertently supportive whenever you do anything.

when you cook him a meal, for example, the second the food touches his lips, he’s looking at you like you just saved his life. close to tears and everything, he’s going on about how he’s never tasted anything better, and he’ll probably say the same thing next time.

he genuinely believes that what you’ve made is a gift, something special just for him, and his heart swells with the knowledge that you’ve put effort into caring for him in this way.

my favourite animal is neteyam when he doesn’t receive at least three kisses or more from you in a day.

can you blame him? his days are long and exhausting, spent with his father barking orders and chasing after tuk to keep her from wandering off. so, of course, he looks forward to the moment he can feel your soft lips on his, the one moment of peace he can count on.

if you withhold a kiss, it’s like a stab in the chest. his ears flatten, tail droops, and his big amber eyes well up like he’s been abandoned in the middle of the forest. there’s a desperate edge to his voice, thick with disbelief—how could you deny him?

he’ll practically sink to his knees, hands reaching for you, putting on the most dramatic performance ever just for you.

if you decide to tease him on a particularly hard day where he doesn't have the patience required for such theatrics, he'll just scoop you up and haul you over his shoulder, kissing you until you can’t remember what you were supposed to be doing.

it’s not negotiable—three kisses, minimum, every day, or he’ll never let you hear the end of it.

neteyam loves deeply, fiercely, and in every little gesture, he makes sure you feel it.

he wonders if you know how much space you take up in his head. he thinks about you constantly.

one instance of this is when he's left alone with his thoughts on a particularly long hunting trip that lasted more than one day.

neteyam lays on the cold ground, the stars above him stretching endlessly, and yet, despite their beauty, all he can think about is the empty space beside him. it’s strange, how the absence of something so small—your quiet, rhythmic snores—can leave him feeling so lost. the other hunters of the group snore but that does not guide him to sleep quite as easily as your sounds do. he chuckles to himself, though there’s no one around to hear it. she would never believe me if i told her, he thinks, swears she doesn’t snore. but you do. soft little sounds that lull him to sleep every night.

without them, the silence feels oppressive. he shifts, trying to get comfortable, but nothing works. the coolness of the forest at night wraps around him, but it doesn’t bring the peace he’s used to. not like when he’s with you. back home, when he can feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, when the sound of your breathing fills the space between his heartbeats. it’s then he realizes how much he depends on those little things, the ones you would never even think about.

he closes his eyes, trying to picture your face. eywa, it’s only been a few days, and i already miss her this much. it’s embarrassing, really.

his mind wanders to the rosy tip of your flat nose. it looks just like the petals of a lortsyawll, he thinks absentmindedly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

he swears, if he could just hear your laugh, even for a moment, it would make this whole hunt more bearable. i hate being away from her.

he shifts again, turning on his side and curling his body into itself, hoping that maybe if he closes his eyes tight enough, he’ll be able to pretend you’re here. but the weight of your absence is heavy. the way your soft hand always finds his when you walk together. the sound of your voice, soft and low when you’re sleepy. the way you tease him, lighthearted but full of affection. he misses the way you press your forehead to his when you’re trying to comfort him, even over something small. he needs that now—needs you.

nothing feels right without you beside him. the hunt is going well, but even the thrill of the chase can’t distract him from the fact that, at the end of the day, when the adrenaline fades and the world quiets down, it’s you he longs for. i need her, he admits to himself, the thought settling deep in his chest. i always need her.

you are always there, in the back of his mind, shaping his every action, his every decision. he doesn’t need anyone else’s approval, doesn’t care what others think—as long as you’re proud of him, as long as you’re his, that’s all that matters.

she’s everything, he thinks, for the hundredth time that day, and yet, it still feels like an understatement.

i should be asleep but this request was too good!!

[skiiyoomin]

hihihi!! i hope you’re requests are open!! i saw that you did a “bakugo with an emo girlfriend” head cannons i was wondering if you could do iida and/or Kiri !! i would LOVE to see your head cannons for them w an emo partner :3

ღKirishima with an emo gf

ʚCont: fluff, crack, not proofread ⤑Back to navigation

Kirishima is without a doubt the least judgemental person you could ever meet. He´s a sweetheart to everyone, no matter the style. He has no reason to judge you as long as you vibrate good vibes.

If anything, he´s curious to learn more about cultures and styles he may not know much about. So, when you first appeared in class, his interest was instantly piqued. You stand out from the rest in such a unique way, and Kirishima loves that.

Being the social butterfly that he is, he didn´t waste a single second to sit down next to you and chat your ears off.

"Hey! You have a really cool style. What´s your name?"

The warm smile on his lips is hard to ignore. How could you turn down such a sweet-looking boy when he´s looking at you like you placed the stars in the sky?

From then on it was a smooth slope. Kirishima truly isn´t a hard person to get along with. His desire to always learn about your style and the things you like always warms your heart. Though I´m sure back in his early teens, he hadn´t strayed too far from an emo phase.

He had a slight alternative phase and although it´s not the same, there were things he was slightly familiar with, to your pleasant surprise. This turned out to be just one more reason to bring you close.

You had grown so used to each other's presence that you didn´t realize just how often you spent time together. You sit next to each other in class, to everyone else's dismay because Kirshima does not shut up when he´s around you. Your afternoons consist of training or studying with him or relaxing in each other's dorm room. It´s a common view to see one and the other tagging along. So much so that when one of you was missing, people would ask why you´re not together.

But this is all so natural in the intimacy of your friendship with him. People may not understand why you´re together so much, but why should their opinions stop you? Only when someone confused you for a couple did you begin to think differently. You´d be lying if you hadn´t thought about him in that way before. And he did too, but you would never admit that to each other.

It wasn´t until you were badly injured after an encounter with the LOV that Kirishima realized he had to stop being a coward. He had grown so used to the comfortable routine you had created. His doubts kept him from taking things a step further. Because it´s better to have a little less than nothing at all. Seeing your injured state was a slap in the face for him. He needs to be honest about how he feels.

The door creaks open. You can barely turn your head, but you don´t miss the familiar redhead. His presence is like a soothing balm, a comforting sensation that erases the loneliness of the hospital room.

"Hey" His voice is soft. How it always is when he´s with you.

"Hi" With a few large steps, he´s on the bedside, wrapping a warm hand over your own.

"How´re you feeling?" He asks though he knows the answer. "Like I got hit by a train" The silence that hangs in the air after he chuckles is strange. Usually, it´s comforting and relaxed. Now it´s tense, like one of you is waiting for the other to say something. To take that next step. Kirishima is the first one to break the silence. He´s there for a reason, he might as well get it done with.

"Listen Y/n, I want to tell you something" Your mouth opens, but before you can get a word out, he´s cutting you off.

"I like you. A lot. And I´m sure you know that because I´m obvious about how I feel and I should have told you long ago but I got so freaked out and seeing you get injured so badly made me so scared and-"

Your warm hand cupping his cheek cuts off the anxious ramble he was on, forcing him to stop and breathe. He looks at you in surprise, unsure of what to do.

"I like you too you idiot"

He couldn´t possibly be happier than that. Not when he has his girl. His girl. God he could get used to saying that.