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carn4g3 · 5 months ago

Note

Ooh okay, so I thought of an idea! I guess you could call this your first request on this account, but any possessive headcannons about the li's from the night shift?

(I assumed they'd be possessive from what you mentioned at least)

Creepypasta Relationship HCs

Characters - Jeff the Killer, Homicidal Liu (& Sully), Ticci Toby, & Eyeless Jack x GN Reader

Summary - How they are in a relationship (w/ a "healthy" dose of possessive tendencies)

TWs - Descriptions of yandere behavior, cheating (and otherwise unhealthy polyamory), abusive or toxic relationships, manipulation, possessive and jealous behaviors, mentions of murder and other violence, & very brief mentions of sex.

Word Count - 3.4k (500-700 each)

A/N: Part 2 is now up folks :)

Part 2 | 3

Jeff the Killer

Almost definitely has a thing with control. As an unwilling pawn to a creature he can't defeat, he tends to approach all things in life less than civilly.

You would likely have to be under Slender's control as well. While he could possibly tolerate someone who has been with Slender for longer than himself, Jeff prefers a more rookie member. Especially if you're being trained as a proxy, he feels a sort of satisfaction knowing his own influence is somehow intermixed with Slender's closest pawns.

Getting into a relationship with him takes time, and, even then, the term relationship is used very loosely. Jeff has interests for short periods of time before moving on to something else that catches his attention. Assuming this is a more long lasting type of relationship, that manifests as him basically disappearing for anywhere from days to months at a time.

He doesn't quite ignore you. If you pass him by chance, he'll acknowledge you with a smidge more endearment than just anyone else. Even if you seek him out, he might agree, albeit on his terms and free time. However, it certainly rivals the near infatuation he exhibits when he's most interested.

That being said, monogamy is not to be expected. If you wanted to discuss it, you probably wouldn't get a straightforward conversation even if you beat it out of him. Jeff doesn't answer to anyone in his mind. He gets to do whatever he wants, when he wants to. If someone else catches his interest, you're the last thing on his mind.

On the other hand, you do have to answer to him. Being stuck in Slender's woods as well, there's only so many people around you, and Jeff feuds with them constantly. If you were to be seeing one of them, that's something they could hold against him, and, to Jeff, that's worse than sin. For that reason, he absolutely policies your other relationships, and, if anything escalates, you're the sole one at fault. Though, Jeff, behind all his boasting, is not the smartest and it is very easy to lie to him if you're even somewhat decent at it.

Jeff is also not the most affectionate in traditional senses. While he understands the general norms of a relationship, he tends to perceive gestures of affection as begrudging requirements rather than something he enjoys doing.

His main aim in a relationship would be sex, any other things falling as secondary or lower.

Non-sexual physical affection is generally stiff or completely non-existent. Depending on his temperament, he can be a little bit sweeter. If you were to ask for a hug, he would (given you two aren't in any sort of public setting) allow you to give him one. He, on the other hand, would stand there like a reluctantly breathing mannequin.

Words of affection are also few and far between. He absolutely won't say he loves you, and it would be like pulling teeth to get him to call you any endearing nickname. But, Jeff does speak to you a bit softer than he does others. His compliments aren't outright but rather a less critical version of his usual vindictive comments. Not to mention, if he's feeling especially placid, he might refer to you by your actual name over whatever bastardization he normally uses.

His most likely form of affection would be in gift giving. Jeff is kind of a kleptomaniac, deriving a weird sort of joy in taking "souvenirs" from those he's killed. If he just so happens to notice something that you've offhandedly mentioned before or (god forbid) even something that makes him think of you, he'll pass it on. Usually, that means finding it on your doorstep (like he's a cat giving you a dead mouse) or having it tossed off to you under the guise of it being "junk."

I will add one concession which is that it's not entirely impossible to get some complacency out of Jeff. One thing that he tends to forget is that you're not completely weak and docile. After all, you interested Slenderman in some way beyond being prey. The most effective would be straight-up physical violence. Jeff doesn't understand emotional cues, and he hardly respects verbal boundaries. A fist to the gut, though? He understands that well. It'll make him think twice.

Overall, things would need to be toxic on toxic.

Homicidal Liu

Hardly as volatile as his brother, Liu is probably the closest you'll get to a "normal" relationship

While he holds a lot of insecurities about his appearance, he has much more room to interact with others in the real world than some of his companions do. He doesn't have a particular preference for who or what you are. If you're under Slender's control, that makes things easier. But, he's just as willing (if only a little hesitant) to form relationships with people outside of the creature's sphere

In my characterization of Liu, he has a bit of a destructive need to be close to Jeff. Some of it stems from his desire to return to a normal life while other parts of it is because he feels a need to be treated poorly somehow. Either way, his agreement to Slender is purely out of a need to be closer to Jeff. For that reason, he doesn't really view the creature in as negative of a light as others. Liu might even encourage you to submit to Slender if you haven't already, though who knows how that might actually go for you.

A complete wannabe romantic. If he sets his eyes on you, he'll go about the motions in the hopes you'll like him back. On the good side, you'll get a couple of nice dates and a bouquet of your favorite flowers for any sort of special event. In the case you don't reciprocate the romantic feelings, however, that does nothing to deter him. He just needs to try harder and eventually he'll wear you down.

Liu doesn't see himself with anyone but you, and he hopes you feel the same. However, he's a bit more flexible if you aren't interested in being exclusive. He fears that denying you fully might turn your interests away from him, so, instead, he'll try to convince you that he's better than whoever else you set your eyes on.

Compared to others, Liu isn't particularly the strongest. He's killed, but he doesn't feel any great pleasure or disgust towards it. It's something he has to do to be near Jeff, that's all. So, he's not one to go straight to physically harming anyone who gets close to you-- that might upset you too. But, he is one hell of a gossip. Any possible dirt he has on the person in question, he'll tell you all about it, maybe even twist it to seem like they hurt him personally. At the end of the day, you love him, don't you? You wouldn't want him to get hurt again, right?

On the more fluffy side, he’s the most consistently affectionate compared to others. Physical affection and words of affection are the main ways he would show his love in a relationship.

He's most physically affectionate when taking you on a date. Holding your hand and kissing your cheek, he does everything the sweet, picture-perfect boyfriend might. Liu's also very willing to indulge whatever requests you have of him. Whatever you want, his arms are open-- literally. In public settings, he gets a bit shyer, a pink flush taking over his features as he reaches for your hand or hastily presses his lips to your own.

When it comes to words of affection, he's quite the poet, like an actual love poet. Is his poetry good? That's subjective. If you indulge him, he might slip a love note or two your way. Although, he was far from a straight-A student. You're pretty sure some of the big words he uses don't quite mean what he thinks, but the thought is generally there. Even if you don't indulge his poetry, he'll still let the words "I love you" fall in your direction alongside a slew of other compliments.

Sully

I don't imagine Sully fronts very much, but, when he does, it's usually for a decently long period of time. Because of this, Liu keeps a diary of sorts so that the other can be a little less disoriented when coming to the front. Sully begrudgingly respects the diary. He doesn't keep up with it like Liu and writes far less, but he keeps the important details in mind.

If you're Liu's partner, he's not too interested in you. Inevitably, he'll be curious at first upon reading about you, but, if you don't catch his interest, he'll move on just as quickly. In that case, you probably won't see him until he fronts again.

In the off chance that he does see you as more than some side character, that doesn't really change much. Just because you're Liu's partner and somehow attracted to their host body (even though Sully is doubtful to believe that), he doesn't just get free range on you. He'll hang around you a bit longer, maybe indulge in a conversation or two. If Sully's relationship with you does develop into something less passive, it would likely be purely sexual in nature.

In general, Sully is unlikely to pursue a romantic partner of his own-- especially if Liu already has a partner. For Sully, Liu's needs matter more than his own, so he gets the final say on romantic relationships. But, he's not incapable of experiencing romantic attraction for another person.

Unlike Liu, you'd have to be under Slender's control for Sully to even consider you. He admires powerful people, so, if you were a more experienced member, that would only be a bonus.

If he did let an actual relationship form between the two of you, it would probably be pretty loosely defined. He wouldn't call himself your boyfriend, but he would scoff if you didn't see him that way. With that, Sully wouldn't entirely mind you were with someone else-- as long as he found them worthy.

(I'm not decided on writing NSFW on this account yet, but there's something there... remind me)

That doesn't dissolve the possessiveness entirely. Sully would still feel like he has some say in your other partners if it's someone he doesn't like. Rather than take that disapproval out on you, he'll go right to the source, and he is not opposed to violence.

In terms of affection in a relationship, Sully is a lot like Jeff in most ways. He's not a fan of initiating softer forms of affection. You would have to be dying in his arms to get him to hug you and most kisses would need to be initiated by you (it's not like he minds, though).

Sully's most valuable asset is his time. When he's fronting, he gets no more than one or two months to get everything done. So, if he chooses to spend his time with you, you better appreciate it. Even if you don't, that might not stop him if he's in deep enough.

Liu would probably be similarly indifferent to Sully's partner whenever he fronts again. He takes a bit more time to get to know you, Sully writing much less about you than Liu would, but he certainly wouldn't grow more fond of you than that.

Ticci Toby

Truly a rollercoaster of a man.

Toby is damn near infatuated with Slender, seeing it as something of a savior to him. Whether you feel entirely the same is irrelevant, you would have to be another proxy. Toby is often trapped in his own mind, not really too observant of things he doesn't need to be. So, you would need to be someone who's a bit more relevant in his life than just an occasional mission-buddy.

Surprise, surprise, Toby struggles with authority. He hates when people have power over him and he knows it (*cough* Tim *cough*). He'll fight any order quite fervently whether that be by outright defying it or just doing something his own way instead. At the same time, he feels the innate urge to be validated for his efforts and garner respect from the very same authority figure. Shockingly, he finds himself gravitated to someone who's been around a bit longer than himself.

You would have to be the one to establish any clear boundaries or definitions in a relationship. Once Toby thinks something, that tends to become his version of fact. He thinks you two are partners? You are. No need to inform you of that, you must already know.

Toby is incredibly insecure in himself. As a result, everyone is a threat to his relationship with you. Anyone could swipe you away if he's not watching carefully enough, so he's on high alert around others-- whether you want him to be or not. At the best of times, he can keep his mouth shut. But, at his worst, he sics himself on others like an untrained guard dog. The offense in question? Causing you to smile in a conversation.

This sort of variety tends to describe most of your relationship. Sometimes, he fails to see any of your flaws, pining any issues he has on either himself or others. Other times, everything is your fault to the point he almost despises you. Those times don't equate to necessarily him distancing himself. Rather, he takes increasingly more frustrating means to get you to change for him. You love him, don't you?

Toby doesn't know much about relationships apart from the stereotypical and heteronormative examples he saw as a child. Regardless of your gender, he tends to think of himself as the "dominating man" of the relationship. Despite that, he tends to be weak to you. It's not the hardest to knock him down a peg or two, depending on his mental state.

His most likely forms of affection are in gifts and acts of service. He's not exactly an artist, but he likes to think he is as he combines various rocks, sticks, and acorns together into some atrocity for you. Almost like a courting bird, he most prefers giving you the pretty or shiny objects he can find throughout the woods. As for his acts of service, those go back to his desire for you to be proud of him. Doing things for you is a natural way for him to achieve that, no matter how ridiculous or damaging your request might be. This aspect of his is almost too easy to exploit.

Toby is very awkward with physical affection. Being around you heightens his nerves and, in turn, his tics. He worries that he'll jab you too hard with his elbow or accidentally smack you with an involuntary hand flick. So, he stays close but never too close: hovering is the best way to describe it. Toby exists near you like a presence, just a few feet away and fiddling with his hands as he waits for you.

Words of affection are also difficult for him for similar reasons. He despises the way his voice comes out cut and stuttered and saying such big things like "I love you" takes a lot of effort out of him. On that note, he can be quite the talker once you two get closer. When he's comfortable around people, he likes to tell them about his interests in long, rambling ways with a little glimmer in his eyes. It's almost comical how easily you can initiate such word vomit from him.

Eyeless Jack

EJ has been a personal fav of mine for many years now.

While I'm an absolute sucker for the beauty and the beast trope with this guy, I think a relationship with someone else under Slender's control is most likely. Despite that, he would definitely be more likely to fall in love with a more human member than another supernatural one. Jack craves nothing more than the nostalgia and familiarity of humanity, so, if a human partner is the closest he can get, then so be it.

A relationship with Jack is beyond a slowburn. He wouldn't admit feelings for you even if it killed him. Jack despises who he is and thinks that every nice thing around him should feel the same. For that reason, it would take you to be the catalyst for the relationship. Good luck doing that though when Jack starts avoiding you like the plague, a pretty common occurrence. Even if you do voice the thoughts for him, he might still hide in the hopes you'll forget them.

Once in a relationship, he's the most likely to make it clear that he wants you two to be exclusive. While I tend to hesitate on making his more demonic traits too animalistic, I think it's reasonable to suggest that he has quite the strong nose. You have a scent, perhaps even one beyond whatever hygiene products you wear, and so does everyone else. If you don't smell like, well, you, it unsettles him in a certain way. That's his reasoning, at least.

In reality, he's more possessive than he lets on. To an extent, it's not a complete ruse on his part. He does truly believe the things that he asks of you are because his demonic nature makes the alternative impossible. It would be a lie to say there isn't some almost inexplicable mental gymnastics to get to that point, however. He can handle you having platonic relationships with others, no matter how much he feels his hands twitch unpleasantly at the thought. Jack struggles to fully commit to making you "all his" given that he doesn't think he deserves anything.

Expanding on his self-hatred a bit further, Jack is most vocal about these feelings with you. The sheer amount of time it took for the two of you to get together allowed for the establishment of more than enough trust on his part. He'll rarely dump it all at once. Instead, he makes comments here and there about hating certain features of his, or, if that's too much, he'll look so obviously sad about it. The reassurances feel cute, almost more domestic than you expected... at first.

Jack doesn't actively seek praise or compliments from others. If anything, he tries to practically disappear in most social settings. So, to have someone reaffirm him so readily, it's almost intoxicating. It would be a lie to say he doesn't fish for compliments on occasion, highlighting some insecurity of his to an unnecessary degree in the hopes you'll dote on him over him. Honestly, you might have swayed his worries on the issue entirely, but he'll be damned if he doesn't hear you say it again and again and again.

Acts of service and quality time are his go to forms of affection. Jack is guilty of hovering even more so than Toby is. If you're doing something, he's willing to help with whatever it is (there's very little he can't do) or at least linger around you if you don't want the help. When you're not busy, he still likes to linger near even if you two are doing separate things. Another heightened sense of his is hearing, so he basks in the quiet. As his partner, hearing you is a big comfort to him, even if it's just your soft breaths.

As is customary now, Jack doesn't think he's deserving of physical affection even though he craves it. He's shockingly strong willed and won't initiate anything unless you specifically instruct him to. He's most partial to being held by you, but is willing and happy to act as your personal pillow if need be. Sometimes, he can be a bit too cautious with his expressions of physical affection. Between his claws, his strength, and the inhuman black substance that drips from his eye sockets, he's a big fan of hover hands.

For words of affection, Jack is not a talker whatsoever. Despite his transparency on his insecurities, it flusters him greatly to share how he truly feels about you. He can only bring himself to say he loves you when he's sure you're deep asleep. Regardless, he'll manage to throw around an occasional compliment or two. Usually, it's uttered painstakingly quiet and you'd be lucky if he ever actually repeated it for you to hear better.

I fear there is some favoritism between these characters and I need to write more asshole EJ hcs.

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shatteredmemoriesofroses · 2 years ago

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I hate her.

She took everything from me.

My favourite colour, my favourite songs, my favourite ships.

Everything.

I can’t see what used to be my favourite shade of red without thinking of her,

I can’t hear some of my old favourite songs without breaking,

I can’t watch some of my favourite shows lest I remember her.

She took it all.

She took my birthday with her.

Leaving me dreading that day every year.

I had just turned 14, I thought I would be dead by morning,

I thought that I wouldn’t finish 8th grade.

I cannot shed tears when I think of it all.

I cry in my head.

My screams ricochet around my mind,

Incomprehensible beyond a dark cry,

Nonsensical screams begging for it to be over.

They don’t know that it’s over.

That it has been over for years.

She took some of the things I held most dear.

She took my favourite colour,

Red now relegated to number three.

And yet I think what if?

What if I’d never met her?

I’d still have my favourite shade of red,

And my favourite songs.

She ruined so much of what I loved.

I hate her for it.

I’ll always hate her for it.

#tw: abuse #I know it's not explicitly menetioned or anything but I think it's pretty obvious #tw: trauma #poetry #writeblr #emotional abuse #trauma #toxic relationship #tw: physical abuse #physical abuse #tw: emotional abuse #tw: emotional manipulation #I hate my ex a lot #i also hate refereing to her as my ex #but its the only way to get people to remotely understand the what happened #say shitty ex friend and people will think oh just some backstabbing or somethign #no way worse things and there was also the whole relationship thing #which was just manipulation and an experiment for her to see if she was deserving of love or whatever #i was the most succesful experiment though so ill take it

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axolotl4days · 14 days ago

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Oh my god im so sorry it took so long I got so distracted

Yandere! Royal Family x Neglected Reader

The Reborn Royal Part 2

Summary: After being reborn once more y/n expects everything to be the same as always. However this time around, their family is going to be the ones changing things.

Tw: violence, abuse, neglect. Yandere behavior(all platonic), descriptions of death, mentions of suicide and self-harm.

Before anything continues, im gonna write down the names of the characters for reference.

Queen Charlotte and King Vincent somewhere in their 30s

Oldest and heir to the throne: Prince Edward, roughly 13

Next is: Prince James, roughly 11

Next is: Princess Eleanor, roughly 9

Then last, baby y/n who's... just been born.

The ages are just rough estimates, the numbers themselves, dont matter, just the older sibling dynamic and that they'd be adults while y/n would be a kid/teenager (yay angst)

Alright! On with the fic!!!

Part 2: No specific pov just yet

The youngest child in the Royal family has just been born, the King and Queen have ordered the staff to give them some alone time for the whole family.

"Its them... it's really them" Queen Charlotte says, holding the new baby y/n

"They're so small. Are babies always this small?" Eleanor asks

"That usually depends on the baby but... gods.. they really are small" King Vincent replies

The siblings watch as the little baby starts to fall asleep, Edward tries to reach out to hold little y/n but the poor thing flinches at the contact. Edward and James recoil in horror. All of the visions they've seen over the past few months of watching their future selves hurt future y/n so much. And now. Now that they're seeing, the real y/n in front of them for the first time. They have never been more horrified. How could they ever hurt them. Hurt you. No one should ever go through that sort of pain. They can't let it happen again.

Eleanor watches as the boys shake from witnessing the baby flinch, and she doesn't understand. Your only a baby.

"Mom? Is the baby okay?" She asks

The queen stays silent for a moment but even she cannot hold back her worried tears, so the king steps in

"Darling, the baby is going through quite a lot right now, they have just been born after all. Everything is new and fresh to them, so it'll take awhile for them to adjust. Don't worry, we'll make sure theyre okay." He says, that last bit is mostly for himself, while the visions he saw didnt involve as much physical violence as the boys did, he saw how, isolated the little one was. How bad it got. And how badly it ended. No. No. He can't think of that now. What matters now is they have you. And they'll make sure your treated right

Your mother holds you close. She can't fathom the idea that she would ever give you away for someone else to take care of.

"Your highness? Here, you need rest, we can take the baby and-" "No." The Queen glares at thr maid who dare suggest such a thing.

"But your highness, you need time to recover"

"I will be fine. All I need right now is my family. I suggest you leave now before I decide to make you." The queen threatens

"Of course ma'am, sorry ma'am."

The maid leaves the room but the king steps to his queen's side, "the maid is right about you needing rest dear, dont worry, I'm here. No one can take our baby from us, isn't that right kids?" Your father turns to your siblings who nod in agreement.

Vincent manages to get the baby into the crib and as Charlotte finally sleeps, the children joining her, he stands guard and thinks about everything hes seen in these past few months.

King Vincent POV:

Though the visions mostly focused on you, and your pain thats not all they saw. The king specifically saw the things that led him down the path of neglectfullmess and why he was absent so often. Plans. War. Betrayals. The things that kept him away from the castle. The things that allowed your mistreatment to slide by without repercussions.

He'll have to take care of those. That way, he can be there for you. Make sure you're raised properly, with love and care from your family. Nothing will come between him and his family.

He pulls out a journal, after the nightmares began and he noticed the patterns between them he would take notes about each event, each person's perspective, and the outcome of each action. He doesn't know where these visions came from or what caused him, but what he does know is that according to the recent intel on other kingdoms it seems that one of the wars is brewing, he searches through his notes to confirm, checking the interactions between other kingdoms, seeing how the other him would talk about the other kingdoms.

If he wants to keep his family out of harm, he'll have to take care of the threat before it can even happen.

He walks over to the baby's crib, looking down at his youngest child sleeping comfortably.

He knows what he has to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi 👋 Author here, I am so sorry this took so long and that its so short, I like just finished finals so im just now getting around to working on this series again.

Now that its summer hopefully the next part will come out quicker, but I dont have a planned schedule cause I am horrible at planning things,

But!! I have notes and plot points for where I want this story to go/what I have planned

Please be patient with me, this is like, my 2nd time writing something like this on Tumblr and due to the, extreme, breaks in between parts the writing style may not be very consistent

But hopefully the next few parts will be written in a timely manner so they should be both more consistent, and longer!

Down below is my attempt at a taglist, there were a few people who wanted to know when the next part came out, feel free to let me know if you wanna be added, ive never made one of these before and its surprisingly hsrd

@randomlyappearingartist

@enchantingarcadecreation

@thatpersonnamedrook

@reni502 (idk why this one isn't doing the thing I tried)

#familial yandere #parental yandere #platonic yandere #royal family #yandere family #yandere father #yandere mother #yandere siblings #the reborn royal

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harmonysanreads · 6 months ago

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Chiaroscuro

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dr Ratio x [ Gender Neutral ] Reader

Synopsis: There is a wilted daffodil resting between the pages of Ratio's memories. Tags: POV Dr. Ratio, Fluff and Humor and Angst, Hurt/Comfort (?), Slow-burn (oh my), Right Person Wrong Time (oh dear), Strangers to Friends, Reader is Older than Ratio, We speak in the Language of Flowers here, Literary References and Allusions, Exploration of Academic Struggles, Jealous!Ratio, Exploration of Grief, Slight Yandere!Dr Ratio, My Interpretations of Ratio's Past and Ideologies (because hyv won't tell me), Brief Aventurine Appearance TW(s): Toxic Relationships, Toxic Family Dynamics, Implications of Physical Abuse (not condoned by Ratio) Author's Note: At long last, my ‘thesis’ on Dr. Ratio is finished :') I've been working on this fic since June 2024 and finally gathered enough willpower to push through the rest of it. I started this fic with the sole goal of torturing Ratio but ended up falling in love with him halfway through this fic- as such the direction may have shifted orz Please forgive any unintentional errors and get cozy <3

「 Word Count : 11k 」「 Artwork Credits 」「 Read On AO3 」

i. Panorama.

They say, the best years of a human's life are spent before boards painted with chalk scribbles and around those of one's ages, filled with careless laughter and weaving hopes for the distant future.

Veritas Ratio has always disagreed with this belief and backed his own with a multitude of reasoning. For one, those so crowned ‘best years’ are not to be wasted through wishing your fantasies would come to fruition on their own. Secondly, his experiences run contrary to the images illustrated by the majority of the population. Which, fall as it might within the grounds of personal grudge, has enough weight to not be disregarded entirely, he'd argue if necessary.

If confronted on his bitter feelings regarding the schooling years of a person's life, there is a possibility that the erudite Doctor will falter and then incoherently mutter something about it not being a downright horrifying experience.

The chances of receiving further clarification from that point decreases significantly and will be entirely dependent on Ratio's mood, which, isn't perceived to be the most agreeable on most days.

In the rare case that luck shines upon the inquirer and Veritas Ratio's stern edges soften with nostalgia, there will be but one name that'll leave his lips in an uncharacteristically somber cadence.

If certain events had transpired differently, the recollections of that day would've been far sweeter than it is now — but still, the parasite known as nostalgia begs to alter his memories. It attempts to soothe the cuts gained from reaching towards aspirations far beyond his capabilities with cursory glances from the sun, and daisy petals hidden in the crevices of dusty tomes.

In the days Veritas Ratio treaded in an environment where nearly everything was twice his height, carrying expectations no one would bother to understand, he'd pledged to himself to not fold before irrational demands just because he wasn't a sight one would normally see in an institution full of burgeoning adults.

He was no stranger to the attention his genius brought, far more so the unwanted part of it.

Which was why he'd stubbornly made his goals clear to his titular peers within the first week of his attendance, much to their bewilderment.

Any suggestions for free ‘assignment completion service’ was shut down curtly and neither did the prodigious new student bother to partake in other youthful activities — but surprisingly, Veritas's distant countenance hadn't succeeded in putting a dent to his overall popularity.

Perhaps that is the reason the requests for private tutoring sessions and borrowing of notes never did cease, because despite his attitude, no one could deny his intelligence. And that, ultimately became his label in that university. Consequently, no one went out of their way to seek him out unless it concerned academics — except one person.

Ratio thinks he might've been witnessing a meteor streak the night sky instead, because relatively speaking, he couldn't trace where you appeared from with just his bare eyes.

(Though now that he thinks again, it might've been because he'd not bothered to look beyond the white board of the lecture halls, haughty as he'd been.)

—And as momentary as said event, you'd stunned him with an inquiry that did not match any of the others that'd preceded your kind.

“Why are you all alone during lunch, little boy? Whoa, you're studying even now?”

He’d barely missed the astonished gleam in your eyes when he parted from marking an important section from his book in a flinch. The unacquainted sight beside his desk had put the functions of his brain at a temporary standstill, before resuming with a barrage of questions as you observed him rather amusedly.

The small smile that appeared on your face next halted any of those inquiries from gaining voice as Veritas's reflexes worked to catch the objects tossed his way.

“Take these for now. Skipping meals isn't good for you, you know? You can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of your health first.”

Veritas blinked owlishly at the apple and sandwich now resting on his lap, the words of advice you stated in a rather sing-song tone barely registering in his head as he vacillated between demanding your identity and scoffing at your audacity.

Much to his chagrin, you evaded his burning stare and waltzed out of the vacant lecture hall before he could even open his parched mouth, again.

(What he recalls first before this peculiar interaction now is how the usually mundane sunlight had embraced your form that day.)

He only saw more and more of you from then onwards, much to his initial displeasure. For some mysterious reason, you'd made it your hobby to nag at and subtly coddle him in ways that made any other passing student raise eyebrows.

Whether it be dragging him to places and sometimes forcing him to eat lunch or separating him from his beloved books to 'refresh his mind' at some other corner of the campus, you never faltered ; despite all the scowls and passive aggressive quips he sneaked in.

Only after some research did Veritas discover you to be one among the seniors and, he'd admit it somewhat begrudgingly, you were a senior in every sense of the word.

Although, that knowledge did not aid him in answering the most begging question: why were you going out of your way to guide him through the perilous terrains of university? He'd initially suspected you to demand recompense in the same ways the others coveted.

Perhaps you were an expert manipulator, struggling to wrap up your last year in the institute and as a result, decided to prey on the genius through teasing words and coddling.

Ratio was fully prepared to face you when you showed your true face — except, his hypothesis ended in utter failure as that expected unravelling never came.

So, on another of your usual kidnappings meetings under the old oak tree at the far end of the campus, Veritas decided to soothe the scorching paranoia in his head.

“It’s because you remind me of my little siblings! It's been such a long time since I've seen them and I just really miss them, you know?”

He doesn't know. Neither the sentiments that are apparently driving you to take care of him nor whether you're being sincere.

Here's the most annoying thing about you: despite how much of a genius Veritas is crowned to be, he's experienced repeated failures in deducing what lies beneath that benign smile of yours.

At least there are formulas and theories to explain or, get closer to the enigmas of the universe. But whatever and whoever moulded you into your present state had clearly forgotten to leave a loophole behind for curious minds like his to decipher.

“Besides, I understand how you must be feeling in this environment where everyone is half a decade older than you — even though you like to act tough. I know that there's a seed of loneliness that's ready to burst into a giant tree with the right incentive and you're just holding onto the last of your sanity to not let that happen.”

Ratio's fingers halt midway through flipping to a different page of his book. Your observation silences him long enough to make the rustles of leaves permeate the atmosphere, before he forces his brows to furrow and his lips to quirk down.

“It’s rude to make assumptions about someone you barely know.”

The purple head watched as you leaned against the palm of your hand, as though the sneer on his face was nothing worth fretting.

“Aww, did I catch little Veri off guard? No need to be in such denial, I saw you gape like an owl at my words. But owls are my favorite bird, don't worry!” The hostile expression on his face morphs into surprise as you ruffle his hair with your free hand with more enthusiasm than required.

“Rest assured, I'll take care of you for as long as I'm here, little Veri.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you don’t.”

That earned him a laugh and messier hair.

ii. Anamorphosis

Little Veri.

If there was something he despised more than the shrill voices of his classmates, it'd be that nickname. You might've been accurate in your choice of words in a literal sense, but for the first time, honesty had bruised his ego.

The prodigy was not accustomed to being treated his age, he was always commended as ‘mature’ and being ‘beyond his years’. Yet you had never even bothered mentioning this and instead, always poked at the suppressed child that slumbered at the deepest corner of his heart.

What he loathed even more was how every repeat of that ridiculous nickname actually made him feel quote-on-quote ‘little’. No, how you allowed a leeway for that teenage heart to peek through from under a canopy of knowledge and caution.

Intentionally or not, you carved a shelter for that little boy to crawl beneath in moments that no one would care to glance at.

It was a matter of great shame although, while his teachers had handed him the basics to deciphering the laws of the universe, no one had bothered to teach him how to respond to such kindness.

Upon further digging, the genius was surprised to find that your merit resided in the top five of your entire year. While he hadn't taken you for a dimwit (he'd rather eat dirt than utter such sacrilege) his astonishment stemmed from the fact that he'd never seen an academic material accompanying you on campus.

He’d even thought your sole task was to bother him with your half-a-decade years old wisdom upon a particular session of agitation. But after clarity grasped his mind, he realized that his suspicions were simply baseless in an institution as competitive as Veritas Prime.

Instead of journals and papers concerning your major, Veritas often saw you seeking refuge in musings soaked in fantasy and your rationale behind such escapades puzzled the mind of his younger self greatly.

“And then the male lead gave a bouquet of bluebells to the female lead, declaring his feelings! Isn't that so romantic?”

Ratio scrutinized your form hunched over from giddiness derived from materials that appeared alien to his eyes, stacks of textbooks wept at the corner of the table in abandonment.

“Bluebells? I thought people gave roses for matters like this?” sunset orange eyes swept over the incredulity blooming on your visage.

You sighed as though he was the most exasperating person you had the misfortune of dealing with, “It’s because bluebells are the symbol of eternal and undying love. Roses are undoubtedly lovely but as you said, if anyone was to give roses to someone, everyone and their grandmas would have an inkling about what is happening between them! Giving someone a bouquet of bluebells on the other hand, is far more secretive and exciting.”

“I don't really understand but alright.”

Ratio almost drops his pen at the flick to his forehead, “So unromantic! You're never getting a girlfriend if you continue being like this, kid!”

His free hand whips up to shield his skin against further damage, he feels the muscles of his temple twitch in profound irritation. “I don't need—”

“Yes yes, you're too preoccupied with the pursuit of knowledge to bother with fickle things like romance blah blah blah.” Ratio's eye roll almost synchronizes with yours.

Veritas knows and he isn't ashamed to admit that he's not a romantic person. The path he walks on has no necessity for abstruse emotional attachment and sentimentalities.

On the contrary, what he abstained from seemed to be the centrepiece of your interest.

Your eyelashes flutter as you rest your elbows on the table, eyes searching for a trace of your wishes among the litany of bookshelves, “But if anyone was to confess to me, I'd want them to give me a bouquet of bluebells instead of trying to articulate their feelings.”

Ratio raised a brow as your sigh echoed throughout the grand library, “And how, pray tell, would they know of your preference?”

“That’s the thing, little Veri!” you snapped your fingers as though you'd solved the greatest dilemma plaguing mankind, “I wouldn't talk about these fantasies to just anyone. If someone was to give me a bouquet of bluebells, it'd mean that we're close enough to know these secrets and then there'd be a high chance that the feelings are mutual. No awkward moments, we'd know what we are without even speaking!”

The purple head observed as you rambled, the light from the sinking afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass shone on you. A scoff escaped him before he could stomp it down, his arms crossed almost derisively.

“And is that your sole ambition in life?”

“Of course not,” your reply was brisk and simple, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You met Ratio's perplexed gaze with an unusual calm, “If by ambition, you mean what I want to do after all this studying, well — I want to be a teacher.”

Veritas couldn't hold back the surprise from soaking his words this time, “A teacher? Why?”

But you seemed to find great entertainment in his reaction, if your twinkling eyes was anything to go by and the genius isn't even taken aback this time; your sources of amusement would never be the guesswork of anyone.

Your shoulders shifted as you shrugged, “Why not? Teaching is one of the most noble professions out there, but it warrants great caution and wisdom. Hmm, come to think of it— what do you want to be, Veri?”

Ratio nearly flinched as you expertly shifted the attention to him, glossing over it with a fake cough. “I…” his throat constricted as you leaned in ever so slightly, “—don’t know.”

“Whaaaat?” you backed away just as quickly, dragging the syllables of that word to emphasize your disappointment. “Tsk tsk, so you're just studying blindly without any clear goal? That isn't going to get you far, regardless of how intelligent you are.”

He knows that, but what is he supposed to do if his mind blanks when he tries to envision himself in any conventional field? In fact, he considers it as one of the flaws of the educational system. How a student is always urged to find their place in the grand scheme of matters but never guided through them ; or, at least, given clear pointers.

It'd also be careless to label Veritas completely clueless about his situation. What he does cradle, or was compelled to bear was not borne of his personal wishes. But with time, his mind accepted it as his own, though a part of his heart always ached with emptiness.

You cleared your throat upon noticing that a great conflict had rendered the genius speechless, “Well... as for the reason as to why I want to be a teacher, it's because I want to help those students who struggle to find their way in this vast world. Regardless of where they rank in the merit position or what ‘status’ society has assigned them. Granted, this struggle may continue even after someone has graduated and while I may not be able to help every single person, I still want to try my best. After all, that should be the goal of our educational system — in my opinion, at least!”

You chuckled somewhat bashfully afterwards, remnants of it settled on the way your lips curled. There was something so succinct yet undoubtedly natural about that smile, like petrichor and he felt a pang of regret hitting his ribcage for not noticing it before.

Although it might not appeal to some, to many it brought solace even before the sun could sweep aside the canopies of darkened clouds.

Something that's appearance was preceded only by the tears of the skies, it stunned the mind that such beauty could be unearthed from a phenomenon so seemingly insignificant.

And that realization appalled the young scholar.

iii. Tenebrism

Ratio did not comprehend the value of your presence until he was deprived of it.

Due to certain circumstances, the genius had learned to be contingent with the fact that he'd have to navigate the majority of his life all by himself. Of course, ignoring simpletons and self-centered personnel came easy to him as well.

What the scholar wasn't conscious of, or was too prideful to acknowledge was the harrowing vacancy in some obscure corner of his heart that yearned for a deeper connection. It would take little effort for him to rationalize this longing with his age and return his attention to far more pressing concerns.

But it seemed that the more he tried to silence the wails of his feelings, the more cacophonous they became.

You'd spoiled Veritas a good amount, with your willing enthusiasm to tail after him whenever you had the reprieve.

So, when you abruptly stopped your usual pursuit in exchange of accompanying another person whose face he couldn't bother to remember, the young scholar was left to deal with a surge of emotions he had little control over.

Said emotions, were tame enough to be kept under check within the first few weeks as he learnt that the purpose of this sudden acquaintance had been for the completion of a group project.

Where the scholar's composure did start to falter was when you maintained your distance from him even after the fulfilment of said project.

And Ratio despised the sparks of resentment that'd flare up in his chest each time you'd pass him by while chatting so deliriously with that no-name stranger.

He was thrown in a limbo the first time he witnessed someone else in the position that he held and although he stubbornly convinced his mind that it was for the best ; each time the scene would replay in the corridors and crevices of the university, Veritas could see yellow hyacinths bloom in his peripheral.

He's certain now that he must've been losing his mind, or at least was on the verge of (and for such a childish cause at that) because he took shelter in a superstitious practice and ignored as many meals as he could in the futile hope that you'd come back and reprimand him again.

Ratio would have applauded you if he hadn't been so consumed by all those unsavory chemical reactions in his mind.

It didn't help his case that the first time he'd bothered to take in the environment, he was reminded of the fact that, you had others who'd accept you, but he only had you.

His frustration must've reached a new peak, because not even the most persistent of his irritable classmates were brave enough to approach him as he continued to brood hopelessly.

It wouldn't be long until he would gather the motivation to finally propel himself out of that dark space, but the method his younger self employed to do so, embarrasses the present him to no end.

“They did what?”

Veritas needn't open his eyes to picture your visage colored in shock, he opted instead to maintain his somber facade, arms folded, and brows furrowed to complete the act.

“But I never thought them to be that kind of person, quite the opposite, in fact.” followed your reluctant admission.

Ratio outstretched his palm as though enticing you to accept the news, “One can deduce so much about the ocean by gazing at its surface. The facts are before you, with substantial evidence. Whether you believe them or not depends entirely on you. I only thought I should inform you before it reaches the Principal, that is.”

He could envision your eyes oscillating between his firm countenance and the unseen prospects proposed by his words. Discreetly, he peered at your fidgeting and unconsciously held his breath.

He'd done the calculations before approaching you, the worry oozing from your gaze confirms that you've heard word of it from his ‘associates’ already and the fact that you didn't try to defend the person further tells him you've done some digging through the news portals of the university yourself.

Step by step, you've unknowingly assisted in concluding this problem.

The young scholar silences the quivers of his conscience before they can rage and foil all progress. As for this friend of yours, there were embers left behind from misdeeds of long ago. He merely reignited that flame so that those crimes would face proper punishment — although which was not his principal goal. To make sure you don't get caught in the inferno was, or at least, that's what he tells his conscience.

A half-resigned hum from you saves the scholar from spiralling, “I’ll believe you and will avoid them for the time being. Though I have my own theories, you have a point. There is no telling what is beneath a person's exterior.”

Veritas simply nods to that conclusion.

Your eyelashes flutter as you drift into a brief reverie, before fixating on his rigid person. “Ah, but what is going on with you, kiddo? You've been skipping meals again, haven't you?”

The young scholar blinks in stupefaction at the shrunken proximity between you two, the single finger beneath his chin with which you scrutinize his visage nearly burns his skin. He can hardly process what observation you're making through the dizzying fragrance of jasmines.

“I am in perfect health, as you can see—”

“For so long! It's only a matter of when that you'll faint while calculating nonsense.” you sharply interject and withdraw the searing contact. Strangely, Ratio makes no face this time.

“Come to think of it, it's been a while since we've had lunch together. Oh, I have so much to share with you! Let's not waste anymore time, let's go!”

There is good cause for why the wise warn against temptations. Bit by bit, piece by piece, oh so painfully obstinate — you fed him that poison, rendering his sharp mind a mess of inebriating chemical reactions.

You were none the wiser to the impact your fickle gestures made on him and soon, Ratio's biggest weakness, curiosity silenced the prodding of his conscience.

He gained little incentive to step far away from the leering shadows, as the brilliance of the sun made it so his fixation wouldn't stray towards the darkness.

iv. Tachisme

“Suffering is part and parcel of extensive intelligence and a feeling heart. A man who is really great, it seems to me, must suffer considerably here below.”

Your sigh weighs down on the silence of the university's library, a dull thud causing a crack on it as you set down the tome on the dark wooden table.

“I couldn't help but think of you while reading this novel.” bright orange eyes watch the way you cushion your cheek against your knuckles minutely.

“Suffering, misery, sadness, whatever you name it is inconsequential to any human being. But I feel like, those who are labelled as being ‘different’ than the majority experience a certain kind of those challenges. The ones that are weighty on the tongue when they attempt to express it, perhaps inscrutable to even themselves.” Ratio mulls over your musings, briefly closing his eyes.

“Everyone’s experiences are bound to be different.” comes his easy response.

The furrow in your brows suggests the conflict his words stirred instead of assurance, “You take everything so coolly, but I can't help but worry for you. You may be calm and certain about everything now but there's no guarantee you'll always be this way. On top of it all, you reject close relationships, thus narrowing your options to lean on someone should a sizable problem come.”

Ratio catches himself before his eyes can roll sideways, “Surely you didn't drag me out of a lecture just to nag me again?” his subconscious notes the reduced exasperation that prospect stirs within himself.

You often worry for a future that has yet to seize anyone. While the young scholar commends your far-sightedness, he really cannot understand the use of losing one's mind over events that haven't happened yet.

Thinking ahead is helpful, turning that habit into an obsessive frenzy is not.

He observes the way your frown expands, deepens and ultimately loosens up with a sigh. You refrain from broaching the topic further, another quality he appreciates.

Though you don't make an attempt to defend yourself, you refuse to voice out anything else as well, settling your eyes to a distant point in existence.

For once Veritas is ruffled by the silence, so he makes an attempt to change the subject — because counting your eyelashes isn't the most productive thing for a scholar to do.

“It’s not everyday I see you carrying something that doesn't have hearts and glitters on the cover page.” his eyes settle pointedly on the book before you.

You scoff, “One does not survive in Veritas Prime simply from reading light novels.” there's a trace of pride in your admission.

“Oh? So, what does ‘one’ do to maintain their spot in the top five?” Ratio quirks a brow, holding your gaze.

The witty response he anticipates gets replaced by another sigh, puzzling him for an instance, “I’m assuming this is about me never studying within campus. Well, I just like keeping my study space and my socializing space separate. Listening to lectures here and doing the heavy lifting in my room. It's what works for me, in any case.”

There's genuine interest in his next questions, “And what do you do when you get bored while studying? Or when you feel like you can't concentrate anymore?”

You twirl a stray lock of your hair, cheek still resting on your knuckles, “Take a bath to sober myself up, I guess. When your mind is full of garbage, your body will likely not be the cleanest either.”

You shrug, your nonchalant attitude renders his mind to a blank slate. For a while he does nothing but think about your words, though the response he gives matches none of the context.

“I feel like there is so much I don't know about you.”

It's your turn to be surprised, but unfortunately for Ratio, the sight is still too brisk. You break into a fit of laughter, wiggling your brows as though you know something.

“Silly little Veri, let me tell you something. People are like icebergs! We can only see their tips with our bare eyes but to know them in their full capacity, we have to dive down.”

“But the waters are cold.” the young scholar pushes.

Your giggles soften to a smile, “That’s exactly the point.” and you refuse to elaborate further, again.

To reach the heart of the iceberg, one must push through the freezing depths of the ocean. Whether Veritas Ratio has that willpower, is a question left for his future self.

v. Sotto in su

As the days lapsed, more and more memories anchored themselves in Ratio's mind. They brought with them a different seed of emotion, every exchange with his enigmatic senior nurtured and coaxed it to sprout tender leaves.

Before his syllabus could be replaced, the fact had been known to everyone regardless of their relation to the prodigy. If your recurring appearances in Ratio's life and his noticeable tolerance for your presence was anything to go by, it was apparent to anyone with a conscious mind that his opinion of you was at a level above everyone else's.

Exchanges between different years wasn't an uncommon phenomenon, but a friendship with the notoriously detached prodigy was an understandable bewilderment. Though, the students at Veritas Prime quickly learned to use it to their advantage rather than criticizing it — a unanimous realization that Ratio was just a bit more agreeable in your presence.

Not that Ratio was unaware of their schemes, the fact that they construed that he'd tolerate them solely because of your connection further cemented his belief that all these wannabe researchers were still light-years away from the truth they speak to seek.

Albeit, after noticing that he'd been more approachable for students who genuinely wanted to learn rather than to fulfill some pecuniary purpose — he begrudgingly admitted that, there was an influence taking place.

Veritas swiftly ignored the rumors. While not one to waste his time, being with you brought along perspectives that challenged his thinking style. To him, truth has always been beautiful because it will not change, even through the failures in understanding it.

But you're a human being, change is rooted in your constitution.

The cycle of erosion and accretion that makes you you hinders even a brilliant scholar like him in grasping the characteristics of your soul. This form of beauty he was not acquainted with before, admittedly.

Relying too much on either rigidity or malleability will pose problems. It is through the search of a balance can we discover the answers.

It may not be obvious at first glance, but you aspire to guide others through the murky depths of ignorance while pondering this apparent equilibrium — since neither extremes can be eliminated. As strange as that selflessness initially appeared to him, Ratio has developed a sense of respect for your ambitions.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, it seemed as though you knew exactly what was transpiring.

In fact, you were conscious of a lot of things ; it's just that you preferred to pretend that you didn't for reasons that he hasn't comprehended yet.

For the longest time he interpreted that thoughtful sparkle in your eyes as just another play of light. Whenever his reactions to your teasing would come off as more animated than last and the flush that he'd try so hard to not let extend to his cheeks do just that — you'd have that nearly imperceptible realization reflected in your eyes. It scratched at the parchedness Ratio hadn't even recognized to be there.

His fear was confirmed to be true one afternoon in a vacant lecture hall, though not through words.

“Is this for me?” sunset orange eyes shone against the shadows that fell on his back.

“Well, do you see anyone else here?” your huff and his eyeroll synchronize.

You patiently held the book covered in elaborate illustrations of flowers for his taking, though what captured the scholar's attention most was the single yellow bloom tied atop with a violet ribbon on the book. He recognized the book to be a copy of the floriography manual he often saw tucked between your collections.

“You’re probably wondering ‘what value will this book bring to you’. Well, as I've said before, studious scholars should never limit their perspectives.” you almost shove the gift into his hands in response to his stunned countenance.

“And,” an accidental brush of your fingers against his hand sends an unwanted shudder through his arteries, “Happy birthday, little Veri.”

You withdraw just as quickly, the hues of the setting sun softening the smile on your face.

Ratio forces himself to look elsewhere, "You're still going to use that ridiculous nickname, huh? What a way to welcome me into adulthood." he mutters, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste that he tries to mask with sarcasm.

He feels your chuckle probing at his heart, taunting the quickened pace in which it revolts against its cage. You shift your gaze to the golden petals resting atop the book, a somber sigh tumbling from your lips.

“— Fair daffodils, we weep to see

You haste away so soon ;

As yet the early-rising sun

Has not yet attained his noon.”

Many see fit to celebrate their first step into adulthood with enthusiastic celebrations, Ratio's eighteenth birthday brought with it a clinging bittersweetness — not that he allowed himself to dwell on it for long, his future plans taking precedence over sentiments.

The lone daffodil had been tucked between a random section of the book you gifted, hidden away from his sight. The border between cowardice and courage was thin, nearly translucent in the manner the result dictated what it would turn out to be.

The journey of uncovering the mysteries of the universe is a similar pursuit. Emerge victorious and you'll be brave, fail and you'll be heralded foolish. Ratio was far from a coward or a foolish man, sometimes not going head-fast into uncertain territories is the mark of intelligence.

He allowed the daffodil to wilt and turned not a page, for he knew in some deep crevice of his subconscious that it'd blight the clarity of his mind with another flood of emotions he did not have the capacity to process.

Luckily, his agony met a premature end as you departed from Veritas Prime by the end of the year with a certificate in hand.

Who knows how many sleepless nights and crushed dreams paved the path for the ink lines on that single piece of parchment. Ratio had been there as the first to congratulate you, it was the least he could do.

He did not proceed farther than that, as you'd made it clear that there would forever be a line he would be unable to trespass.

Ratio was fully aware of the limitations the silly crush that accumulated over the time in your acquaintance brought and he expressed no interest in pushing those boundaries either.

He found solace in the fact that he'd met you at all. He wouldn't say you illuminated his life, for even you always believed it was the individual themselves who possessed that power.

You nudged him towards the path to find his light and that lesson, he wanted to honor all his life.

The memories of your time would stay treasured in his mind and the curve of your smile would be preserved in marble. Without the echo that his ears yearned to capture, he saw fit to isolate his senses from unnecessary stimulation.

Though you'd never grace the corridors of Veritas Prime again, the footprints of your presence etched deep in the genius's memories would never fade.

vi. Trompe l'oeil

His next encounter with you was a tad unexpected, just at the horizon of Ratio putting the full stop to his years at the university.

Veritas’s fingers slackened around the handle of his umbrella, a page or two of the manuscript of his thesis slipping past his grip and drifting along the roaring wind — but his eyes couldn't chase after them. Much too fixated on the way your shoulder bumped with theirs, not at all by accident.

The rain soon cloaked your figures from his spying gaze, the droplets soaking the ends of his clothes failed still to snatch his attention away. In spite of the thunderous cries of the sky, the echo of your laugh was all he could hear.

—

Time never ceased its relentless march; life followed its direction and events moulded more memories.

For the sake of productivity, he had no choice but to push back his curiosity and stay away from your life. His studies and workload helped generously in keeping his mind from wandering to frightful territories at inconvenient instances, though a certain spark nestled deep somewhere in his subconscious.

Before long, his name resounded far beyond the gates of Veritas Prime.

Veritas Ratio, now Dr. Ratio, felt his nerves flare again as he looked at the latest discussions on the university’s online forum, the words “Dr. Ratio Will Surely Snag A Place At The Genius Society, Won’t He?” in bold only tickled his annoyance further.

Ordinarily, he would stay as far away as possible from discussions concerning himself — which was easier said than done.

Aggrandizing anything always leads to disappointment. Ratio's surroundings loved to goad his path, but he knew, such chatter would morph to whispers the moment their expectations were proven false.

Dr. Ratio’s brooding came to a halt at the collision, his reflexes acted and he clasped onto the stranger’s arm before they could fall. He heard leaves crunching under his boots, strangers threw cursory glances at the near-accident.

His lips parted in what a spectator could assume to be the beginning of an apology, but paused upon noticing the words resignation letter on the paper in the stranger's grasp.

Orange eyes flickered, trailing upward, within the fabric of scarlet you burrowed deep in search of comfort from the scare.

You mimicked his earlier attempt, craning your neck for a second to meet his gaze and halting in recognition.

“Veritas… Ratio?”

The addressed scholar blinks, blurting out before he could think, “That’s not what you used to call me.”

There's a scintilla of surprise in your eyes at his unintentional jest, he anticipates a laugh next, but only an awkward quirk of your lips greets him.

Your eyes dart around your environment, before returning to his grasp. Feeling the weight of your stare, he releases his hold with a fake cough.

“I… apologize.” his hand found refuge on the nape of his neck.

“It’s okay, accidents... happen, you know.” you wave him off with your free hand.

A breeze passes through the gap between you two.

It might've just been Ratio’s misjudgement, but he felt as if you were about to run away for a millisecond. Your fingers tightened around the paper in your hold, you gathered yourself with a deep inhale.

“Congratulations on obtaining your fourth doctorate degree! I often discuss your papers in my classes, you are an inspiration to so many people.”

A flicker of sunlight filtered through the leaves above fell and there appeared that smile he knew. Years had gone by, yet the mystery in it remained still out of his reach.

“Thank you,” he tilted his head downward, “I’m glad to hear that you pursued your dream.”

Ratio sneaked a glance, your nod faded into silence. His gaze lingered on your face, the concentrated flush on your right cheek made his brows furrow.

He was no fool to the tension in the air and your unusual fidgety demeanor. He briefly contemplated if he should just depart.

However, he couldn't deny the fact that questions had accumulated throughout the interval of your absence from his life. The differences between the you before him and the you from his memories begged him to probe, to study and learn.

He felt himself drawn to the paper in your hand again, a glint on your ring finger caught his eye. Among the myriad of inquiries battling to escape his lips, the one that’d warred the longest emerged victorious.

“Did they…” he began, uncertain.

“Give you a bouquet of bluebells?”

Your flighty gaze froze to confusion for a moment as you tried to decode his words, Ratio mirrored your gaze as you failed to answer. You quickly blinked away any hints of shock, a forceful bite stopped the trembling of your lips.

(He felt a twist somewhere in his heart.)

“Can we… talk somewhere else?” you suggested. Despite it being the middle of autumn, there's a storm brewing in your eyes.

—

Veritas could see splinters on the cup in his grip, the dark beverage within threatening to spill.

A passing waitress threw the table a concerned glance, but could not find the courage to intervene. The sight of your antsy wringing of hands in his peripheral alerted him to breathe. He loosened his grip on the poor cup of coffee just in time, a burdened exhale following suit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “So, what do you intend to do now?”

You fiddled with the band on your ring finger ; within the vacancy of the cafe, to Ratio, it felt as if even such an insignificant gesture gained voice.

The insistence of your silence prompted him to continue, “The culmination of your hard-work, one that stole almost all of your life ; all of those sleepless nights, unsaid sacrifices for the sole wish of helping others — all of it, you're going to let go, just like that? Just because an idiot claims they know better?”

Dr. Ratio could not understand, no matter which angle he looked at it from. The answer to your dilemma was crystal clear to the scholar, he’d be willing to bet it’d be clear to anyone with a functioning brain — and yet, you hesitate.

You continue to shuffle and avert your gaze, sometimes parting your lips to speak but withdrawing the next second.

A person that's found the tunnel’s end should run towards it, but you remain at the precipice of darkness.

“I…” The purple head straightens up at the sound of your voice, it is weak, hopeless ; a complete stranger to who you once were.

You abruptly gather your things, “I’m sorry, please forget I ever said anything —” an innocent glass is knocked off in your haste.

Cold, your hand is chillingly cold as Ratio grabs it, preventing you from running away. The unnatural temperature of it temporarily unsettles the man, but the situation at hand prompts him to push the observation back.

You try to force your wrist out of his grasp, but he presses on, “Can’t you see, that they are ruining you? This is not who you used to be! Your so-called 'fiance' is destroying you, they’ll not stop until you're nothing but a shell of yourself and they can reshape you to their liking!”

“I really have to go —” a vein pops on Ratio’s forehead, the wanton glass hits the floor.

“And why go? To receive another slap from them?” he feels your palm dampen from sweat, pieces of shattered crystal splaying across the tiles.

You look at him in disbelief and he blinks, the sharpness of his words finally cutting him.

The incipiency of an apology gathers at the tip of his tongue, but you halt it from escaping.

“Whatever happens between us, is none of your business, Veritas Ratio.”

If your hand was simply cold, your glare is freezing. It stuns the scholar enough to make his clasp loosen, you quickly snatch your hand away.

You’re two steps in when Veritas rushes to add, unwilling to back down, “But it was still you who reached out to me.”

The scholar hears the pause in your heels, you don't turn to address him and he doesn't move to obstruct your path either.

The bell signals your departure as the waitress from before rushes to clean the broken glass, leaving Ratio alone with his thoughts.

—

Veritas Ratio has had scarce attachments to worry about in his life.

For better or for worse, it appeared as though the direction of his life was steered towards one particular destination, everything else proved to be transient.

While his surroundings eroded and flourished within the touch of mortal delights, he remained but a spectator, destined to observe but never indulge.

Love. A simple word, yet any singular meaning behind which could still not be agreed upon.

He saw it in the way parents cradled their children, in the eyes of a couple that brushed past him in the streets. Flighty like the union between another pair of his former classmates, strengthened like the wrinkly hold of that couple that sold flowers down the street ; its form, just like its definition, is infinite.

The scholar thinks he's felt it somewhere in his past, or at least the vestiges of it — within the glow of a cryptic smile and a mind that did not yield.

Troublesome as it’d been, it did not conquer him. Ultimately, he wielded enough willpower to move on.

Some say, brilliant minds that toil too long in the territories of the unknown, become dense to the simpler aspects of life. Ratio did not see the inconvenience in this notion for a long time, not when it aided him more than burden him.

That is, until the encounter at the cafe.

If nothing else, it was clear to the prodigy that you had changed, for the worst at that.

The 'you' he’d known would know how to pick yourself up, or more accurately, that ‘you’ wouldn't have allowed things to escalate this far at all.

You would've left this rotten excuse of a relationship the first time they raised their voice, you would never concede to that fatal act of disrespect, under no circumstance would you let such an excuse of a human have such control — he… he hoped.

Ratio leaned back in his chair, a frown creeping in to his face.

For all these outrageous claims that he's been making of the you he was familiar with, how much did he actually know?

Is a year’s observation enough to grant him that badge of familiarity?

It is as you said, who is he to judge you at all?

Within the gloom of his study, his eyes unconsciously met with those etched in marble, the curve of a sun-kissed smile. He hand moved on its own, turning the table-lamp towards the sculpture and indeed, the light has always suited you more than him.

His recollections backtrack to the hazy gaze he saw that day, the encumbrance in them hoisting him up to chase after the itch for answers.

An uncounted number of hours passed, only after perusing a decent pile of tomes did it finally click in his head.

Ratio had no excuses or motivation to defend himself, he most certainly handled the situation poorly.

When the average attempts of leaving such relationships is between seven and twelve, it was insensitive of him to confront you like that.

Cognitions clouded in rage, he ignored the questions he should've asked, the sense of security he should've provided — the one you sought from him — and cornered you abruptly.

Foolish foolish foolish — he felt his fingers tug at his hair, breaths stuck in his lungs. Rationale does not always succeed in helping others see reason, how could he be so careless with you, of all people?

He didn't even know what stage of this hell you were at, how many times you’ve attempted to leave and what leverage they have over you.

Well, it would be most accurate to say he didn't know anything at all and yet, he arrogantly told you to 'just leave'.

The purple-head forced himself to breathe, the self-loathing could be shelved for a later day, what's more important now is finding you again.

He stood up from the heap of tomes, only to pause, does he deserve to seek you out again?

He betrayed your trust and you shut him off for good, should he even bother now?

A distant tug held him back.

Much like before, there is that line between you two that he cannot cross, must not cross.

He’s no longer a teenager in documents, but he doubts you see him as anything more than that ‘little Veri’.

—

The echoes of passing vehicles ricocheted around the streets, but Dr. Ratio’s attention stayed transfixed on the ivory petals in front of him.

A week or so had passed, the ruminations of those doubts kept him away from the confrontation and stole his nights.

It would be easy to cure this ailment, finding you would be but a matter of a few swipes. But that uncertainty, the ghost of a past insecurity, clung to his resolve. As such, peace abandoned him for a while.

A zephyr whispered to him, “Asphodels,”

He hummed without much thought, sunset orange eyes tracing the dulcet lines in those blooms.

“ ‘My regrets will follow you to the grave’, it's not everyday you see someone looking at these flowers with such care.”

If anyone looked straight into the scholar’s eyes at that moment, they'd for sure be able to witness the cogs turning in his brain in them.

Ratio finds you startled once he whips to his left, your presence finally registering in his head.

A prayer, a yearning, your name escapes his lips. But any further speech is obstructed from taking shape.

You’re the first to recover, “I apologize for running away like that the other day. It… was cowardly of me to tell you to mind your own business when I was the one who confided in you first.” your head lowers in appeal.

He’s sure of it now, you must be on the quest of giving him a heart-attack, what with these continuous surprises you’re throwing at him.

Well, if not a fatality, they're at least doing a wondrous job in preventing him from processing the fact in its entirety — you're here, you’re here, you're here.

You found him, again. Just like all those years ago in the lecture hall, all those times he was skipping lunch, on his eightieth birthday and that other day ; it was always you finding him.

(Has he ever broken through his pride and cowardice and tried to find you instead?)

The scholar hastens to join you, “No, it was my incompetence in failing to understand your situation that pushed you to leave. I completely failed to provide you with safety when you trusted me. For that, I beg your forgiveness.”

He couldn't see it, but he could picture your disbelief at his behavior. Your fist mirrored his, “No, it was clearly my stupidity—”

“Nonsense!” his exclamation earned him a flinch from you. He subconsciously straightened up to drive his point across, “It was me who —”

In the hurry and flurry of emotions, your head bumped with his, ending his tirade prematurely.

Your eyes settle on him, a car runs past your perplexed figures and then, the streets get cloaked in quietude ; before being filled with your giggle.

Against his control, his lips twitch and laughter bubbles in his chest. He allows them to gain voice and join yours.

You fan your face with your hand as the chuckles skid to an end, Ratio feels his cheeks warmed when he inhales. But none of you bother addressing the previous argument, its result apparent.

You take a deep breath and exhale. The scholar sees sun-glitter in your pupils, “I left them, by the way.”

That sobers him.

“Your…”

“Fiancé, yes. Or well, ex-fiancé now.” as if on cue, Ratio catches your now vacant ring finger.

“They tried to beg me to stay. But to be honest, it was not the first time they appealed to my sympathy.” you find interest in the pavement, searching for the remnants of your memories in their cracks.

“... But I really put my foot down this time. And oh, I didn't quit my job either, in case you were wondering.” you heave, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“And where are you residing now — if you don't mind me asking?”

“I’m temporarily staying at a friend's house. Don't worry, I’m at a safe place.” you reassure, detecting the underlying concern in his inquiry.

Ratio’s shoulders sag as he exhales, the receding adrenaline dulling his worries. Turns out you didn't really need his help, not that he's astonished. It was in your nature to extend help towards others but thinking twice before asking for help.

(Although he's in no position to criticize, he so wished that you’d find it in yourself to rely on him a bit more.)

“If you ever need anything, just give me a call or a text. You still have my number, correct?” he glances down to gauge your expression.

When you nod, he murmurs a faint ‘good’ and silence takes over. He contemplates if he should add anything else, but the serenity in the atmosphere prompts him to push back those concerns.

“Well, goodbye for today?” you suggest, snapping him back to reality.

He raises his hand to do just that, but a different thought alarms him.

“Let me walk you home.” he pushes back the cringe at the excess firmness to his tone, rushing to add, “Please?”

For a blink or two, you looked at him as though you’ve just sighted an alien. He assumes it's the ‘out-of-character’ tendencies he’s been portraying that has you double-check. It seems that he was not the only one comparing the present and the past.

Luck appeared by his side — or perhaps it was just your pity — and you conceded without any complaint, letting him join your steps. The scholar barely hid his glee through his gait.

The planet that housed Veritas Prime would get decorated in the lovely shades of ripened maple leaves around this time. Civilians gathered in groups beneath these scenes, some enjoying a leisurely picnic, others focused on getting their desired pictures.

Ratio noticed your wanton glance at a pair on a picnic mat, his lips tugging down at the tell-tale signs of where your thoughts ran towards.

But before he could do anything, you turned away and picked up your pace ; the pair’s laughter but background noise.

With some haste, he caught up to you. Racking his brain to distract your mind, he found himself empty-handed.

Four doctorates and yet, his mind goes blank when he needs it the most. He couldn't be any more disappointed in himself.

Just as he’s about to start a mental berating though, you side-step a rock and Ratio’s hand bumps with yours, their frigidity alerting him.

He stops in his tracks, and you do too, looking up quizzically at him.

He extends his palm, “Give me your hand,”

Your confusion only increases, “What? Why?”

“It’s too cold. Are you certain you aren't sick?” he thinks back to the encounter he had with you at the cafe, the chill he felt when he grasped your hand. He initially thought it a coincidence, but now, he was really concerned.

“Ahh, this, you see,” you flex your fingers, a feeble attempt at warming them up. “My hands kind of respond to the temperature? Don't ask because I don't know exactly why either, during winter, they're usually cold like this. But in summer, they're very warm.”

Ratio quirks a brow, “Just the fact that it tends to happen doesn't make it any less uncomfortable, does it?”

“No…” you trail off, “But! That's what my fiance— I mean, ex-fiance would always tell me, to just get used to it.”

Your eyes flicker back to Ratio’s, the disbelief in them telling you enough of what you need to know.

The scholar ran a hand through his hair, he shuddered to ponder what other garbage they had fed your brain.

His sigh is carried by a passing breeze, “It’s okay. They aren't here to dictate your life anymore.” he once again offers you his hand, another hope-filled prayer.

You look at his extended palm and back to his patient gaze, your fingers fisting in themselves for a moment before loosening.

He sees the ebb and flow of doubt and hope in their movements, inching closer and closer to his.

He cradles your hand when it reaches him, your fingers slipping easily through the gaps of his. The difference in temperature alerts his reflexes for a second before he calms them down.

He stuffs your intertwined hands in his coat pocket — your gasp fades behind you as he resumes his gait.

Ratio does not dare glance in your direction, but he knows you're watching, scrutinizing him. It reminds him of the look you had at the end of your university days, the memory of the incident that followed makes his throat parched.

Your grip is unusually weak, combined with the knowledge of your situation, the scholar can't stop himself from adding.

“Have you been eating well? Tell me if you haven't, I'll take you to have a proper meal. But don't lie about these matters, you can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of yourself first.”

You freeze at his words and Ratio makes the mistake of returning your stare.

Seeing no change in his serious expression though, you shake your head with a chuckle, assuring him of your health.

The clicking of both of your shoes against the pavement is the only thing keeping his heart-beat at bay, his attention from focusing too much on the feel of your hand in his and the myriad of chemical reactions flooding his reward system.

When the coldness in your hand has been completely replaced with the warmth from his, you gesture to him that you’ve reached your destination.

He feels an unexpected reluctance in letting you go, something in his gut pushing him to hold on — but he ignores it.

You pause before opening the gates, glancing at him from over your shoulder.

He looks up in time to see your smile, it's not like all those times you’ve smiled before — no, no. This time, lilac petals cling to its corners.

Ratio covered his mouth with his hand, hiding the stupid curve of his lips from anyone's eyes. The lingering warmth from your hand finally allowed his heart to beat with fervor.

He wanted nothing more than to give you a bouquet of bluebells at that moment.

vii. Sfumato

The day Dr. Ratio returned to your side with the pledged bluebells, was beautiful.

The canopy of winter had begun to be swept aside as nascent leaves heralded spring, twitters of birds ornamented the breeze.

When fresh fountain ink meets parchment, it spreads with a thin halo of blue — the sky of that moment brought back this image in his mind. The sun found amusement in steering behind ivory clouds ; a cheeky, one sided game of hide and seek played with light and dark.

The sun made a mistake, a sidestep allowed rays to escape and fall on the lace ribbon of the bouquet.

Sun-glitter followed the lead of Ratio’s arm, over the arch of his wrist, finding their way from beneath the crevices of his fingers — shining, glimmering, as lapis petals caressed the tombstone.

How strange, didn't it usually rain and roar for scenes like these in those light novels of yours?

Veritas could not feel his breaths, it's as if the mechanisms of his respiratory system halted for that matter, he couldn't even feel his eyes flutter.

Idiocy.

He contemplated turning away altogether, what was he even thinking, bringing bluebells to the cemetery like a young lover?

A dead leaf crunched from his retreating step, the note stunning him in place.

Perhaps he should've brought the chopped off, bleeding excuse of a skull of that man — if only, if only if only any being, any listening existence in this wretched world would reassure him that it’d bring you back.

The scholar felt his fingers lax from their cocoon, but he knew, that would be impracticable. If a life for a life resurrected the other, his fingers wouldn't tremble in usurping that leverage and bringing justice to your final moments.

But he knew, oh how the erudite scholar despised knowledge for the first time in his life — that it’d soothe him, but leave a hollow far worse in his heart.

A sigh forced its way past his lips, onerous was its euphony. Windswept locks of violet poked at the way crystalline orange held onto the engraving on the silver stone ; the name, once his boon, now his bane.

Splinters of marble flew, papers, pens, innocent objects were tossed aside like fickle trash. Rouge flecked once pristine alabaster. Midst the carnage, a book fell betwixt Veritas’s path.

A withered daffodil lamented rationality’s fall.

Newspapers and channels boldly flashed the incident for a week — individual apprehended for the charge of murdering their ex-fiancé — before being swallowed by other, more fascinating pieces of events.

Ratio found himself scoffing at their tone, picking apart their every word and spacing, frowning at how quick people's interest moved on.

Indeed, the world waits for none. The ones lingering are always tormented.

With the last person in close association with you behind the bars of the psych ward and your acquaintances grieving, the scholar took it upon himself to deliver your files and belongings to your family.

But that decision turned out to be a lesson, the universe once again pointing out without mercy the mediocrity of his knowledge.

“Does that mean we’ll have to turn to the streets now?” whispered a little too loudly, a little too carelessly, your step-mother to your father.

Ignorance.

Perhaps Ratio’s disbelief had been too loud on his face, for your father shushed her quickly and attempted to smooth over the slip-up with a barely-strung lament.

But the scholar had learned what was to be surmised from this family, all of their next speeches effortlessly ignored by him.

So the reason you ultimately didn't quit your job was for them, Veritas's eyes dimmed. Feelings were never his forte, this messy heap of them he had no clue what to do with.

And the siblings you used to so dearly miss back in your university days? The second-oldest after you put back her headphones after he finished delivering the news and the youngest couldn't even recall your name.

Ratio seldom used the phrase, but it was truly a miracle he left that fetid establishment without causing damage.

He decided against disclosing your remaining belongings to them and instead, gave them away for charity as written in a journal he accidentally stumbled upon while sorting through them.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew this would happen.

But you refused to confide in anyone, tolerating the farce of a content life.

Ratio could not understand, did not even know where to begin in decoding what was going through your head when you lied to him and what had coerced him into believing it.

Of course you didn't leave them, that would've been too perfect and too merciful an end and clearly, the universe would not allow it. Of course he needed to be shown how much of an idiot he still is, the extent of his wishful thinking.

Ratio concurs he deserves it.

But did you deserve to meet such an end? No, your life shouldn't have been shaped this way to begin with! And yet, it had been.

For long did he stare off into vacant space, casting aside the need for slumber, attempting to answer what was to be done now. The silence beckoned him, that it was nothing.

Perhaps, you were at peace now at last.

Perhaps the craving for this serenity was what had prompted you from not fighting off that axe.

Perhaps, you had closed your eyes without any regrets.

When the haze in his head cleared a bit, he visited your grave again. Dust had gathered on the lifeless petals of the bluebells he’d left, the scholar tenderly rid them from the surface.

He dug a section beside your resting place and planted fresh asphodels. An elderly woman saw the scene in passing but did not comment, pity clung at the edges of her eyes.

Foolishness.

In fear of the tides of time burying the traces of your foot-steps, Ratio chased after them. The places you spoke so fondly of, the flowers and stories you cherished and the students you stood proud beside.

They spoke of your passion, your vision and your resilience to him.

They say, even a lifetime of ‘knowing’ someone is not sufficient in knowing them.

Although he’d known you for a miniscule timeframe, he squandered no effort in trying to understand you. Only at this juncture, did your nature become clear to him. You were an expert in keeping your lips shut, a seasoned performer of half-truths and no stranger to the art of survival.

It was no coy act, you trusted no one with your actual thoughts and motivations — that was the naked truth.

So then, it begs the question, what exactly did you try so hard to eradicate?

Supposing that this universe suffers from a common ailment, and it is so persistent, so adhesive, so elusive that it plagues the dullest to the most brilliant mind — that despite all attempts at curing it, only its surface has been scratched. And this truth had been so frustrating, even you could not stand back.

Ratio tapped his fingers against his desk, what other malady does an educator aspire to cure other than ignorance?

Foolishness? Idiocy? Stupidity? All synonymous, yet capable of clasping and corrupting irrespective of a person’s standing in the path of life.

To rid them, scholars, researchers and teachers attempt to disseminate knowledge with the vow of indiscrimination.

But Dr. Ratio knew, the oasis of knowledge is but a mirage in the desert of ignorance. For the populace to reach that base awareness, to recognize that mirage — that, is what is needed.

The scholar saw the early light of dawn from betwixt the crevices of his window, the hinges groaned as he pushed them open and for the first time — the sun embraced him and the shadows fell behind his form.

But the meteor that briefly illuminated his sky, is gone — as tends to be their destiny. He can do nothing but carry the memories of its glow.

—

Light glinted over the edge of the cone, approaching footsteps reminded the doctor to tuck it away from prying eyes.

Ratio tsk-ed upon feeling the absence of his headpiece, cracks on the alabaster had demanded a remake.

The scholar’s eyes met with the ones cradling the remnants of a bygone sunset, melting into hues of ocean blue.

“Doc! Didn't expect to see you here.” drawled an unfortunately familiar man. Ratio offered a blink in greeting.

“Yes, how astonishing it is to see a member of the Intelligentsia Guild in its corridors.” the doctor muttered plainly, the Stoneheart in the spotlight merely maintained his smile.

Ratio noticed his other hand to be occupied, “And what about you? Busy squandering your time as usual, gambler?”

Contrary to his expectations, the quirk of Aventurine’s lips widened as though he’d struck gold, he smoothed over the lapels of his suit. The erudite scholar subconsciously braced himself for whatever trick was to be brought next.

“Now now, it's not squandering if you're spending it with a dear person.” he winked.

Veritas caught a silhouette peeking from behind the blonde, “Meaning?”

“Ah, how uncourteous of me.” though there's a note of glee in his voice. “Allow me to introduce you to…”

Dr. Ratio observed as a figure emerged from Aventurine’s shadow, the passing question of how he hadn't noticed them sooner was pushed aside as they joined the Stoneheart in the spotlight.

“My dearest, precious jewel or— how did you prefer it again? Hmm I can't seem to remember~” an elbow to his side and huff broke through his theatrics ; the vacant halls gained life through laughter, petrichor bloomed in their notes.

“Just kidding, my bluebell.”

A meteor crossed the orbit of Ratio’s life again.

Thank you so much for reading!

TAGLIST : @abyssmal-skies @danijaci @birdloverr @teabutmakeitazure @cherriiirose @bleh09 @scurfi @justcallmemidnight @mochinon-yah @feral-ish @lavandulawrites @persicipen @stickyspeckledlight

#dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere dr ratio #yandere dr ratio x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio angst #right on the one year anniversary of ratio's first in-game appearance bro—

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oddlylovingaddiction · 4 days ago

Text

Part 1: here , Part 2: here , Part 3: here , Part 4: here , part 5: you’re here!

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don't have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family, Reader x Conner “Kon-El” Kent (romantic.). Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest

TW: Angst, abuse in the form of neglect, descriptions of anxiety, reader’s dead mom gets brought up, pregnancy.

You made a good choice to spend the day in bed, your body felt almost like mush and you had no energy to do anything but relax in the comfort of your husband and bed. You could hear your joints pop every time you stretched almost like bubble wrap, your belly felt a comfortable full from the breakfast and lunch Conner and watching your favourite show? Absolute bliss.

But the gnawing feeling in your stomach is still somewhat there, and Conner notices it. “You feeling okay?” He nudges your side playfully making you laugh softly.

“I’m fine, I just think there’s just the residue of anxiety that’s kind of lining my heart, you know what I mean?”

He chuckles, “oh I know that feeling. It feels like it’s chewing on you.”

“Exactly!” You smile, happy he understands what you’re talking about. “Perhaps I feel this way because I’ll eventually have to talk to my family about what I saw… I’m really not looking forward to that conversation.”

There’s a moment of silence, you don’t expect him to reply just to listen. The TV sounds kind of muffled as you stare at his hand unconsciously, you can feel him staring at you as well. The setting sun gently cracks through your curtains and shines on both you and him, almost illuminating you both like you were some tragic scene from a movie. Two people who needed their family but ended up creating their own. Conner brings his hand down and towards your belly, gently touching it before awkwardly pulling away.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters which catches your attention, making you look up at his face.

“For what?” You ask confused at his sudden apologetic behaviour.

“The fact I didn’t tell you that your family were superheroes.” He whispers, his face scrunching like it was physically hurting him which earned a soft chuckle from you.

“Oh please, don’t be sorry. You didn’t know I was a Wayne. Still have my mother’s maiden name after all.”

“Yes but…”

“No, you didn’t know and you said it from the first time you revealed the fact you were superboy along with telling me about the other super Kents, that you didn’t want to tell me the other heroes identities to protect me. I respected that so neither of us knew.” You firmly reply, you don’t want him to feel guilty by your other family’s mistakes.

“Yes I know but if I had known that you were in that house and I had met you earlier maybe I could’ve protected you from getting hurt.” He genuinely looks like he’s about to cry. “I never want to see you crying. Especially the way you cried on the floor like that.”

You softly laugh again, “jeez, if I had known I was marrying such a caring man, I’d probably have married you sooner.” You pinch his nose teasingly, to which Conner makes a fake ‘gah!’ Sound like it’s personally hurting him even though it’s definitely not. Perks of being a super. “I remember the first time we met drunk at a bar and the next morning I remember I caught you trying to leave me your number on the nightstand.” You suppress your laughter. Conner groans at the memory.

“Don’t remind me of that okay?”

“Remind you of what? The fact you tried ditching your future spouse?”

“I wasn’t doing that! I had work to do and you were still asleep so I thought it would be okay since you would just call me later.” He whines dramatically

“I don’t knowww…. Seemed like I was nearly ditched, because how do I know you would’ve picked up?” You grin at his exasperated expression.

He trips over his words momentarily struggling to explain himself before he sighs, “You know what? Keep believing I was going to ditch you hot stuff, because no matter what in the end we got married and have a beautiful child on the way, so no matter what I see this as a win in my books.” He gloats patting your pregnancy bump, as you scoff playfully.

Conner gentle rests his hand there as you both bask in soft marital bliss before you both suddenly feel a soft kick.

“We should sign the kid up for kickboxing.” You laugh.

“Does it hurt or something?” He asks concern once again blooming on his face.

“Surprisingly yeah. It’s not super painful but still a bit uncomfortable. That’s the thing about pregnancy nobody tells you that the kicks hurt.” You shake your head shrugging.

“It’s lucky the baby can’t catch any sunshine otherwise those kicks would just hurt.” He huffs making you laugh.

“Yeah lucky me otherwise this would all be way messier. Thank god I’m not see through.”

“You may not be see through but I do have X-ray—“ he says making you laugh before getting cut off by his phone ringing.

He glances over at the phone and gives you an apologetic look, “one second love.” He says kissing you on the cheek before grabbing his phone and walking out the room. You decide to relax and rewind the movie since you both weren’t paying attention at all.

“WHAT THE HELL YOURE DATING ONE OF MY SIBLINGS AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME?” Tim yelled into the phone which made Conner wince and pull away, he did say he’d call Tim later but to be honest he was kinda just saying that to get Tim off his back.

“I didn’t even know dude! It’s not like you both share the last name either and you never mentioned having another sibling.” Conner groans annoyed that he had to be stripped away from his love, however he does his best not to be too mean to Tim, he is… was? his best friend. Honestly he’s not sure where he stands with Tim right now. The love of his life was neglected and Tim took part in that neglect, even if it wasn’t deliberate. But that doesn’t erase him and Tim’s history, he was someone on his side during the rocky times of his life before you came into the picture.

But Conner also knew about your history. It was something you bonded over late at night as you stared down at the city, both of you sat on the edge of a random building, he remembered that moment because he never felt more understood and in love in that moment. If you asked him it would probably be that moment he decided he wanted to marry you, not only because he felt seen but when you looked down at the traffic below, the soft yellow lit up your face making his heart feel like it had stop beating. He swore in his vows to protect you and not let you get hurt ever again, especially not like that.

And he’d be damned to the hell inside his head if he saw you on the floor crying again.

He knows you’re not bothered by the fact you were sobbing on the floor, he remembers you telling him about your childhood and how you used to do the same thing occasionally when something triggered the memories of your mother who you told him had passed, so it’s no wonder you’re probably less shaken up about that part. But he can’t get it out of his head.

“How could you not know?! We even look alike!” Tim squawked breaking Conner’s train of thought and bringing him back to reality as he furrowed his brow, pulling his phone away a second to think about what he just heard before putting it back to his ear.

“You’re both not even biological related to each other though?” Conner monotones.

“Still though.”

Conner rolls his eyes, before replying “anyways to be serious, I… I’m not sure what to do.”

“What do you mean ‘what to do’?” Tim replies confused, his voice a bit concerned.

“You know, I.. our friendship.” Conner pauses, the silence is deafening from the other line. He’s not sure what to do, he cares about both you and Tim. It’s just that if he were to choose, it would be you. “I want to stay friends but.. I just..”

“… I get it.” Tim’s voice doesn’t sound malicious or angry, maybe a little sad? But he didn’t sound like he was crying. “I understand man, A spouse and a child on the way, of course you’d be upset and worried especially about it all and you’d want to stand by their side, it’s only natural.” He paused not saying anything for a phew seconds before adding on.

“I never knew how much I was hurting my own damn sibling, I thought it was the right thing to do. I wish I never listened to Bruce, the damn man probably couldn’t tell a hug from a threat and now I can see not just I but this entire cursed family fucked things up royally.” Tim’s voice cracks as he sounds like he’s about to cry. “Hey… how is…” He trails off, too nervous to say your own name but Conner was the same way. The whole situation made your name feel like glass that could be shattered, it made them both nervous but Tim far more. Like he never deserved to say it in the first place.

“Doing well. We are just watching a movie in bed, it was a rough night but we are doing well, including the baby. To be honest I think we are lucky that nothing else happened, stress isn’t good for anyone especially pregnant people.” Conner gives a forced laugh trying to make the situation lighter.

“Yeah.” Is the only thing replies, and Conner winces when he hears soft sobs on the other line.

“Hey man. We.. are still friends. I still care about you… just right now-” Conner goes to say but is cut off.

“I’m not crying over that dumbass, it’s the fact I made someone cry like that… that’s making me cry.” Tim sniffles, and Conner internally sighs in relief because he really didn’t want it to be because of him. “I’m going to fix this okay? I’ll work on my family here, it’ll take a bit but just make sure both of you are okay alright?”

Conner smiles softly before replying, “Yeah, if you need help call me okay? Though knowing you, you probably will because I don’t mean to brag but I am literally super—“

“Alright wrap it up.” Tim snorts smiling softly, “I’ll… call you later.” He adds on softly

“Alright.”

Then Tim hangs up and Conner breathes a sigh of relief finally feeling like a small weight was lifted off his back but that didn’t the largest weight.

What about you? Will you end up reconciling with them? Do they really deserve your forgiveness? Abuse is abuse even done with the best intentions. It made him anxious. But for now he knows you are waiting for him in bed and that’s what he needs to focus on.

Worry can come later. You come first and always will.

#🩷 ~ long fics || oddlylovingaddiction #reader is gn despite being pregnant #x reader #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc x reader #batfam x neglected reader #neglected reader #tw emotional neglect #batfam x reader #conner kent x reader #conner kent x you #x you #x y/n #reader is pregnant #pregnant reader

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lordprettyflackotara · 9 months ago

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dance w the devil || ticci toby & kate the chaser

smut MINORS DNI 18+. tw: you’ve been kidnapped sorry, weed usage, choking, virgin!toby, boss bitch slightly less feral than cannon!kate, mentions of physical abuse (yk, since you’ve been kidnapped)

You sat in the cold basement, shivering as the concrete scratched against your skin. The chains bonded to your wrist rattled as you shifted uncomfortably, the blinding light of the basement door opening making you cringe. You squinted your eyes, expecting to see the familiar shapes of Masky and Hoodie. The two hell hounds that belonged to the devil, you had decided. You had enough bruises on you to justify your judgment. You were surprised to see two new visitors, ones you hadn’t seen before. One was tall and lanky, orange goggles covering his eyes and a tarnished face mask covering the rest of his face. Beside him is what you assumed to be a woman, her face covered with a similar mask to Masky’s.

Her hands were shoved into her hoodie’s pocket, while the man carried an axe slung over his shoulder. They flicked on the light switch, the light bulb being held by a string above you sparking to life. You narrowed your eyes as you examined them, the two not as in sync as Masky and Hoodie. “H-Hello there!” The man greeted, crouching down to your level. He attempted to caresses your face, causing you to instinctively try to bite him. Your body was completely restrained except for your mouth. This was done purposefully, the hell hounds hoping you’d spew whatever they wanted to know. But you didn’t know what they were talking about at all, leading you to be trapped in the dreaded basement until you spewed up whatever they were looking for. Your teeth clashed together as the man pulled his hand away, chuckling as he looked back at his partner.

“Wow s-she’s almost as f-feisty as you Kate!”

The woman now known as Kate rolled her eyes under her mask. “Shut it goggles,” She hissed. The brunette lifted up his goggles, his chocolate eyes searching yours. You weren’t quite sure what for, your heart pounding as you tried to back away. “Jesus t-they made those p-pretty tight huh?” The man asked, referring to your restraints. You slowly nodded, unsure if the truth would bite you in the ass. He reached forward, assertively grabbing your bound wrist and unlocking it. You watched the metal fall and hit the floor with a clank, your hands instantly shooting to rub your sore wrist. “My names T-Toby, but you can call m-me whatever you want,” He purred. You blinked, attempting to move further away from the brunette. Kate grabbed his shoulder, shoving his backwards. “Shut up you’re scaring her,” She barked. It was apparent to you the two weren’t too fond of one another. It made you question why they decided to come together and not alone.

“Alright i’ll cut to the chase so goggles stops trying to butter you up like a shitty piece of cornbread,” Kate spat. She crouched down to your level, sliding up her mask. If you took away the dried blood splatters and dirt that painted different parts of her face, she was quite pretty for such a feral woman. “We’ve come here with an offer we think you’ll find quite enticing,” She continued. You managed to maintain eye contact with her, her rough voice somehow soothing to you throughout the terror. “You see kid, Toby’s a little virgin with no woman experience and you can bet your sweet ass i’m not going to be a test subject,” Kate went on. You felt your eyes widened as you knew where this was going, instantly trying to use your freed hands to back away. “Nuh uh, absolutely no fuckin way,” You snapped. Toby went to intervene, Kate’s hand stopping him. It was her silent way of telling him to give her a second. “Hold that thought, let me finish,” She said. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tucked your knees to your chest.

“Toby here can just guess how to fuck a girl. But foreplay? He doesn’t know shit. You let me teach him how to make a girl cum and we’ll let you spend some time in the sunshine,” She told you. You couldn’t hide the sight of your face lighting up. “You’ll let me go outside?” You asked. Toby tried to approach you again, both of them crouched down and to your eye level. Kate cut him off before he could talk, knowing her pitch landed. “It’ll be supervised of course, but you look like you could use some vitamin D,” She clarified. The thought of seeing raw and bright sunshine filled you with joy, your feet aching to touch the grass outside. It was hard to recall the last time you had been in the suns warmth. It was a miracle the hell hounds let you use the bathroom in peace. You began to agree, the realization of your filth occurring to you. “I’m uh, not the cleanest though, I don’t know,” You answered hesitantly. Kate delivered Toby a wicked grin, one that sent a chill down your spine.

“Why don’t we get you a bath kid?”

You were hesitant to undress in front of the duo, the bathroom much cleaner than the basement. “This is mine and Jane’s personal bathroom. You’re welcome kid. The majority of the residents here are gross,” Kate said, noticing your gawking. You took that as your cue to undress, shoving your shirt over your head. Glancing at yourself in the mirror you hardly recognized yourself, having lost weight dramatically and your cheeks hollowed. Toby turned on the water, checking the temperature to ensure it was nice and warm. He couldn’t help himself from staring at you as you awkwardly stood there naked, avoiding his assertive gaze. Kate pressed up against you, her breath hot against your ear. “Don’t worry kid he’s just admiring,” She cooed. Her fingertips traced over a bruise Masky had given you, the skin becoming a dark purple. “Damn, Masky got you good huh?” She muttered to herself. It was then Toby extended his hand, guiding you towards the bathtub. Kate went around him, pouring some bubble bath into the tub to create soap.

The inviting scent of vanilla flooded your nostrils, putting you slightly at ease. You swallowed as you took his hand, allowing him to guide you into the bath. You were shaky as you sat down, the waters warmth causing you to let out a relieved sigh. It was only when Kate sat on the edge of the tub the reality of the situation came crashing back down. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of a lighter, fear washing over you. “Relax, this is more for you than it is for me,” Kate said casually. The familiar smell of weed clashed with the vanilla, your eyes watching her take a deep inhale. “I-Is this really n-necessary?” Toby asked. Kate rolled her eyes, handing the freshly lit joint to you as she exhaled. “Do you want her relaxed or not? You can’t make a girl cum if she’s scared of you. Unless she’s into that,” Kate replied. You tried to flick the water off of your finger tips as you took the joint with a shaky hand. “Are you into that?” Kate added, glancing at you. You nervously inhaled the joint, hoping whatever they laced it with would cause you to not remember this humiliating ritual. “N-Not on the first date no,” You sputtered, coughing as you exhaled.

Kate grinned at the sight, Toby kneeling beside the bathtub. You went to hand it back to her, causing her to shake her head. “I think you may need that. Let’s get on with it so goggles here can get his rocks off. Open your legs,” She commanded. You did as instructed, Toby eagerly shoving his hoodie sleeve up to his elbow. He used his right hand specifically, your fearful gaze not failing to notice his left was covered in bandages. You nervously inhaled the joint as Toby’s hand dipped into the water, awkwardly cupping your cunt. “Alright goggles you know where the clit is right?” Kate asked. You avoided eye contact as your face became red, the smoke leaving your lips. Toby rolled his eyes, cockily placing his thumb on your clit. “Y-Yes Kate i’ve seen p-p-porn,” He quipped. Kate glanced at you, finding your flushed face quite cute as you stiffened in the tub. “Alright genius go ahead and rub slow circles around it, get her to loosen up a bit,” She instructed. Without arguing he listened, causing you to unexpectedly whimper. Your body responded well to his touch to your surprise, your hesitation floating away with each full circle he did. “Good job, now go ahead and put a finger in there. You needa make sure she can hypothetically adjust to your size. Not that I think there’s much to worry about,” Kate guided. With his spare hand Toby playfully slapped her leg, before doing as instructed.

This time you groaned, feeling his single digit exploring your walls. “Hear that goggles? Thats what we wanna hear. Add another one,” Kate continued. You felt a slight stretch as he added in a second finger, your walls clinging to him. “Now do a scissoring motion,” Kate added, accepting the joint as you passed it to her. You could feel the drug swirling around your lungs, your body relaxing and becoming content in the tub. “A s-scissoring motion? T-that sounds fuckin s-stupid,” Toby bickered. You tried to grind your hips against the brunettes hand, your core now throbbing with desire and desperation. “Do you see how desperate she is goggles? Get with the program. Jesus, nevermind. Just curl your fingers,” Kate sighed, before inhaling the joint. You gasped as he did so, curling perfectly against your g spot. You involuntarily moaned his name, becoming even more embarrassed once you had realized what you had done. “See goggles? Thats what you’re supposed to hear. Go faster,” Kate ordered. Toby seemed to understand, his own cheeks turning pink as he curled them faster inside of you.

Your gummy walls came to life, clinging onto his slender fingers as he abused your g spot. You gripped the sides of the tub, the high only increasing the euphoria the awkward brunette was providing. He could feel his cock growing harder in his pants, tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth. Your moans bounced off the walls of the bathroom, the sound so sinful you refrained from thinking of anyone hearing it. “There we go, now she’s starting to loosen up. Keep rubbing the circles. That’ll push her over the edge,” Kate instructed, continuing to smoke the joint as she watched the pornographic scene unfold. Once Toby had the green light it made him go faster and harder, abusing your g spot with his fingers as he watched you come undone for him. Your eyes landed on his, the two of you entranced with the other as he finger fucked you. “F-feel good?” Toby asked. You licked your dry lips, forcing yourself to form a coherent sentence. “So good, please don’t stop,” You whined, his fingers relentless as he played with your cunt.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, your knuckles turning white from gripping the sides of the tub so hard. “You see goggles sometimes she’ll need a little extra push to cum. Let me help,” Kate offered. You watched her flick what was left of the joint aside, before her pale hand wrapped itself around your neck. You audibly gasped, your gaze flickering to her. “Nuh uh kid. Don’t look at me. Look at him while you cum on his fingers like the good little slut you are,” Kate hissed. You whined as her fingers restricted your airway, your vision seeing spots and stars as your hips grinding against Toby’s hand. You tried to obey Kate’s command, maintaining eye contact with Toby as your orgasm crashed down over you. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling and splashing the water as you came. Your thighs attempted to shut, Toby’s hand refusing to leave your cunt. Kate chuckled as she released your throat, allowing you to breathe fully. As you inhaled the duo exchanged looks before returning their gaze to you.

“You didn’t think that was it did you? Goggles needs a full lesson and that was just the start up.”

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k4is4rion · 2 months ago

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Bob dating hcs :O?

Robert “Bob” Reynolds x GN! Reader HCs

Thank you so much for your request! I’d be happy to give you some of my hcs for dating this gorgeous, gorgeous man

⚠️TWs: Bob typical triggers (references to domestic abuse, drug abuse)

NOTE: a lot of this is speculative based on the post credit scene of Thunderbolts*!

wc: 1550

⚠️‼️SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT ‼️⚠️

Bob’s has two favorite love languages, with a very close second place, mostly because he can’t make up his mind about which he enjoys doing for you more. The first one being acts of service, doing small tasks for you whenever he can. On top of doing the dishes for the team, he enjoys folding your laundry, making you snacks (he would make more food but he sincerely doubts his ability to cook well), and making you a warm beverage of your choice. He’s memorized which mug is your favorite, how much milk and sugar you prefer, and he always puts in requests for whoever does the grocery shopping to get the brands you prefer. As soon as you mention needing something or needing something done, he’s on it to the best of his ability unless you tell him specifically not to. He likes feeling useful, especially since he struggles with feeling like he’s not doing enough among the group, but you always reassure him that he is.

His second most favorite love language once your relationship has progressed enough definitely has to be physical touch. He is an inherently very anxious person and he’s found that having physical contact with you can be very grounding for him, especially in moments where he’s feeling particularly down. He’s a huge cuddle bug, enjoying it as frequently as possible without overdoing it- even if he doesn’t believe it’s entirely possible to cuddle too much. As much as he enjoys cuddling, his most favorite form of physical contact comes from laying his head in your lap as you play with his hair. He could lay like that for hours if you let him.

You guessed it, quality time is his third favorite! Although, being cooped up together so frequently, it just sort of comes naturally. Quality time together takes many forms, being with the whole team or just one on one. While with the team, you two often sit together while enjoying a meal, watching a movie, traveling, or whatever else you all find yourselves doing. Sometimes you’ll both just enjoy each other’s presence while doing your own things. The whole team is a bunch of insomniacs (John claims he isn’t and is actually very responsible about his sleeping habits. John is lying.) so you’d expect them all to remain for the duration of the movie night, but they don’t, even if they’re the ones selecting the movie. You two often end up cuddled on the couch watching movies for a long time, having even been discovered curled with each other on the couch the next morning. Also, if you for any reason haven’t seen one of his childhood favorite movies due to whatever given reason, he takes immense joy into introducing them to you. Sometimes he gets embarrassed once he realizes that maybe the movie wasn’t as good as he remembered, but you reassure him you enjoyed yourself anyway.

Your fellow team members tease you both about how you seem to be attached at each other’s hip because of your inseparability, but even with their jokes, they’re very happy for you both. They’re glad to see you both happy. Sometimes you’ll have a small moment of affection within the group that’ll be met with a snide comment from Ava, but you know by now it’s not serious or intended to be hurtful.

Unfortunately because of Bob’s early history with addiction, a lot of his relationships have been less than healthy. He’d do anything to make sure he does right by you. With this, he often seeks romantic advice from the New Avengers, but very rarely does anyone besides Bucky have consistently good advice. Ava asked if he was being serious by asking her of all people, then said he if was, their relationship was doomed. John sometimes gives good advice on surface level things like dates, but after Oliva, he doesn’t quite trust himself to say beyond that. Yelena isn’t really into the whole dating thing, making a similar point to Ava. Though, she does have some small moments or general wisdom she can bestow upon Bob. Alexei is well loved by the whole team but, advice from him is not the most sound. When what he’s saying isn’t complete obscurity it’s likely just bad advice. Oddly enough he’s actually had a couple moments of genuinely fantastic advice, not only for their relationship, but just life in general. He was a very mixed bag. Last but not least, Bucky had fantastic advice. He was a bit of a player back in his day, and even if what he said was old fashioned romance, it still held true. His weak spot was when things were specific to the modern sphere of dating, he’d tap out, saying how he’s got no idea how those things go nowadays- this is when a lot of the “Back in my day” moments happen.

Unfortunately actual dates aren’t very common in the time following his “Void” incident. It was incredibly hard to go out since the New Avengers were made public figures, but to make up for this, he improvises. He sets up nice little dates within the confines of the tower. Some of his personal favorites include personal movie nights with all sorts of snacks, a dinner date on the roof, or two person game nights. (Game nights with the team never go well, someone always ends up in tears [its bob])

When the two of you finally can leave the tower together, frequent ice cream trips are a MUST. He always orders a vanilla milkshake with whipped cream, his favorite- even if it’s a little basic. He’d defend his choice in flavoring by saying it was the default for a reason, and even if it was basic, the way the vanilla would linger on his lips certainly wasn’t a negative.

He hardly ever talks about his past. With his father in childhood and later his addiction to morphine and other various drugs, it’s very rare you get something out of him. Occasionally he’ll casually bring up something from his childhood, acting like it was no big deal when in reality in was sort of disturbing. One day he’d say something like “This is like the time I got into a car accident and almost died” at a very mundane thing, leaving everyone very confused. He would be confused why no one would laugh, then remember what his therapist said; time and place. He has deep rooted shame because of both what he’s done and what he’s been through, and shockingly? This is a source of bonding between you two. He regrets a lot he’s done, you regret what you’ve done, but you both know that those things were able to get you to where you are today, and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Because Bob is associated with the avengers, it’s unanimous that he needs to be able to defend himself without the use of his powers, as it poses too much risk as at the moment. He trains differently with the various members, but training with you is his favorite even before you become a thing. Sometimes his enhancements become obvious when he forgets to hold himself back, but you remind him that what he may be up against won’t be so keen on pulling their punches. On the rare chance you spar you go easy on him, knowing he was inexperienced, but he does shockingly well! You even break a sweat, only realizing this when you’ve successfully pinned him down to the mat. He looks up at you with his big blue eyes and blurts out how pretty you look right now, causing you both to be immensely embarrassing.

Make no mistake, even if he is incredibly sweet and often times nervous, he is still a young man. A traumatized, incredibly handsome young man. He hates being infantilized by any means. He says it reminds him of his times in rehab where the nurses would treat him like a child. As he becomes more conscious of his mental illness, he makes a serious effort to help himself. Infantilizing him makes his effort feel devalued.

After the void incident, he feels incredibly anxious that something like that would happen again, even with the assistance of mandated therapy. Your comfort and words of affirmation are helpful in keeping him grounded and very much appreciated, but they only do so much. You try to compensate but it just ends up wearing you out and when he finds this out, he’s consumed with guilt. He reassures you that while he will always appreciate what you do, but at the end of the day, you aren’t responsible for him. You can only do so much and sometimes a person needs more than that, and that’s never your fault.

On a lighter note, he worships the ground you walk on. Insecure? Not if he can help it. He adores you and makes this very clear as often as he can, even if it’s done while avoiding eye contact. Sometimes when you’re just laying together he’ll pepper you with kisses, quietly murmuring how much he loves you and everything he likes about you. He feels like he’s finally understanding what it means to experience genuine love.

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #thunderbolts #robert bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #mcu fandom #mcu #john walker #yelena belova #lewis pullman #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel thunderbolts #new avengers #the new avengers

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elodieunderglass · 5 months ago

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You put that info dump about jockeys in the tags of the info dump post, but oh my stars do I need you to write an actual post about it if you have the time! Or if you've already done that, point me in the direction of where I can find it, because dude, am I invested now!!!!

Oh I can go on about jockeys forever. Let’s do a crash (ha) course while dressing my jockey OC, Killie. Killie is an Irish-British racing jockey over the flat AND jumps, operating in the UK.

NOTE TW below the cut for injuries, weight talk and references to disordered eating, because, regrettably: professional horse jockeys. Infuriating people.

We start with Killie’s fairly battered and frankly very tiny body. At 4’10” Killie is comfortably at the bottom range of jockeys, who usually range from 4’10 to 5’7”. There’s no height limit; there is a weight limit. A naturally small man at about 118 lbs of fairly fit racing weight, Killie is in condition to race on the flat in the UK without too much starvation, dehydration, and substance abuse those are just his hobbies. Jockeys and their gear are weighed before and after each race. Weight limits for jockeys include their body, personal gear, riding gear and safety equipment.

Flat jockeys - who race horses on a plain circular track, like the Kentucky Derby - must be lighter and smaller than jump jockeys. In the USA, flat jockeys tend to be about 118 lbs, the weight of a potential Kentucky Derby competitor. In the UK, flat jockeys and their gear can now go up to 142 lbs, thanks to increased welfare standards; this includes the 3lb allowance for the body protector that UK jockeys must wear as of 2018, and, as of 2013, Flat jockeys in the UK can now have an additional 1 lb of allowance for warm clothing in winter.

Jump jockeys, who race in steeplechases (USA) like the Grand National (UK) aka races with jumps - are allowed to be slightly heavier, and often taller with it, as their sport requires even more strength and stamina.

Jockeys have to be able to maintain ~118 lbs of very fit, fighting-quality muscle, every day of the week. Thus, most jockeys are short, averaging 5’2” in a sport dominated by men, because that’s the cost of packing on enough muscle for the required strength/stamina. add in excellent horsemanship, high pain tolerance, lack of natural fear/truly bonkers physical courage, the ability to go for days without food and other pleasures of life, an ongoing commitment to fitness, excellent mental arithmetic/timekeeping skills, and the ability to tolerate abysmal working conditions, to understand why most short people aren’t immediately natural jockeys. Taller jockeys are becoming ever more common, as the conditions that shaped the historically legendary small jockeys (enslavement/slaver starvation, concentration camps/Nazi starvation, birth complication/premature birth, bad nutrition) are thankfully becoming far less common. This is in turn driving pushes towards higher weight limits, which can only be a good thing.

Why aren’t jockeys all little people? Because it isn’t just about being small - it’s more important to be light and strong. Jockeys generally don’t have medical conditions underpinning their size, and are not generally considered part of the little people community, although their size may overlap with little people. It’s important to repeat that the working conditions of jockeys are still bad; they're a loose collection of freelancers who very rarely become contractors, they don’t bargain collectively, have nominal professional associations, and have 500 years of absurdly feudal working conditions to battle. Little people who are motivated to handle horses could have a comparable time - and genuine union protection! and fans! and visibility! and benefits! and safety coordinators! and less substance abuse! And clothing! - by working as stunt actors. Jockeys just have a shitty job, so when we ask why marginalised people don’t dominate the field, we have to look at working conditions.

Why don’t more women (who tend to be a bit smaller statistically) go into racing? Some of it is historical sexism, but again, the working conditions. Female jockeys have raced throughout history, and are active today. Men and women compete equally in horse racing without any gender segregation or handicap (or even different clothing) and with no statistical difference in performance. Of course, male and female horses also compete alongside each other, for what it’s worth! equestrian sports are generally refreshingly free of TERF nonsense about Masculinity Being An Advantage (it isn’t, in human or horse.) but again, it isn’t a choice career for people with better options, so to improve diversity/inclusivity the working conditions should be addressed first, not the other way around.

Also note: horse racing is declining in popularity. With its preferred audiences traditionally being "stupidly posh aristocrats who wear alarming fascinators" and "conservative working-class old men who shout at TVs in sports bars," with a side order of "sketchy gambling-addicted weirdos," the sport doesn't really appeal to, for example, Tumblr users. Millennial-and-younger generations basically just ignore the whole industry. Most people can't name a single racing jockey; people could maybe name Secretariat, one of the most famous named animals in history, who had a film about him.

At any rate, Killie comes by his frame honestly - he is just generationally tiny and lanky, from a family of jockeys.

Killie starts his outfit in “jockey” briefs and a very lightweight high-neck top. Remember that the carry weight of his gear comes out of his weight allowance, which also includes his own body and riding equipment, so he’s wearing a lightweight mesh skivvy, even in cold weather.

The terminology of jockey briefs and the Jockey underwear brand come from horse racing. "Jockey" comes from the British/Scottish word "jock," for a young boy; jockey being a diminutive of this. The phrase "jock" as in "sportsman, opposite of nerd" in the USA comes from "jockstrap", which is apparently a completely separate underwear-related sporting etymology.

Men and women wear the same clothes, which are sold to everyone equally; there aren’t “girl versions” for racing gear, just heavy or lightweight gear. Women usually add a sports bra, and men have personal preferences for briefs to keep things contained. However, anecdotally, some women race in 'men’s' underwear - and some male jockeys wear 'women’s' underwear to keep gear weight down - so whatever. Pantyhose can be worn to prevent chafing, add a vague layer of warmth, fight the see-through effect of racing breeches, and are a compromise for socks, which would add unnecessary weight.

If there was a reason to leave off his base layer, Killie could cheat by wearing a neck wrap - basically a high collar with a bib that would make it LOOK like he was wearing something under his silks.

Today, in the UK and Australia, jockeys wear body protectors! These are fairly new to the sport and aren’t even remotely universal in the USA. Body protectors can shield the spine, lungs and heart from falls, kicks, and crush injuries.

Killie has also added his high-waisted racing breeches. These are basically-see-through polyester breeches of unbelievable thinness and lightness. Unlike normal riding breeches/jodhpurs, they don’t offer much at all in the way of comfort/grip/protection.

Pull-ups are a kind of tight compression tube that bridge the breeches/boots gap, preventing chafing and making sure that breeches taper into the boot.

Time for silks!

Silks, or racing colours, are colourful high-necked thin jackets that are buttoned over the body protector and tucked into the breeches. Silks represent the owner of the racehorse, for example the Queen of England or Godolphin Stables. Jockeys don’t own racehorses or own/choose silks.

Killie is a licensed jockey under contract to a stable - a highly desirable position. this means that he has HIS OWN PERSONAL SILKS, which actually fit him on purpose. He also knows the horses he rides. This is a very rare and comfortable post - the gold standard for champion jockeys, and what everyone in the profession is desperately hoping for.

Most everyday jobbing jockeys are paid £100 per ride, plus a cut of the purse if they win (but most jockeys in a race necessarily don’t win.) jobbing jockeys are chosen by racehorse owners like itinerant labourers or puppies from a box. Jockeys compete desperately to be offered the best mounts. The owners’ silks are kept in a changing room and when a jockey is chosen by an owner to ride a particular horse, they are handed the owner’s silks to put on over their base layer. These silks are unisex and one-size-fits-all, so jockeys tuck them into breeches to hide when they’re too large, and small jockeys use hair elastics to roll back and secure the sleeves.

People have a vague idea from heartwarming movies that the racehorse, owner, trainer and jockey are familiar with each other - perhaps they have a beautiful relationship. It’s important to remember the real pecking order here: the owner is usually a billionaire or royalty. The racehorse is usually a valuable, highly-bred animal with a proper dollar value on it, which the billionaire loves as an extension of their own wealth and power and beauty and influence. And the jockey is a sort of disposable starving dog that talks, which you graciously choose from the pack, based on their stats, like someone picking a Mario Kart, and assign to make your horsey win. Sometimes “just before the race” is the first time the jockey even touches the horse they’re about to ride! At any rate, the patterned jacket is chucked at the jockey to button on over their clothes(unless they’re Killie and have their own.) They also stretch a thin flexible matching cover over their helmet.

The design of the silks is ancient in intention; everyone can intuit that it’s resonant with medieval alliances and heraldry and tournaments, and the wearing of colours facilitates your ability pick out “your” mounted knight from a scrum of other screaming horses and bodies. Today they help commentators and the audience to see their horses. All silks must be unique, with colour/design/pattern being registered in databases. You can play with the British Horseracing Authority's silks database to see whether your design of silks would be available!

Killie is wearing his racing boots. They're flexible, made of very leather, with practically no sole, and weigh less than half a pound.

Killie wears racing gloves - these are optional, and often fingerless since jockeys like to feel the reins. He also has goggles. Jockeys usually take multiple pairs, perched on their helmet and pulled down in turn. You can have tinted ones for sun/rain, but they’re most important for keeping mud and stones out of your eyes at 40mph. They’re very lightweight, and when they become too dirty to see through, you pull them down to hang around your neck and then pull down the next pair over your eyes. here's jockey Gary Stevens after a muddy race with several pairs of goggles pulled down.

Killie's got his helmet, so now he's dressed. He needs to add his gear. Again, the jockey's body and their gear are part of the same weight allowance; a lighter jockey can have heavier gear. Here is UK jockey Hollie Doyle showing hers:

Interestingly, the weight of the saddle (plus stirrups, girth, and lead cloth) belongs in the jockey's weight allowance. (The racehorse brings its own bridle and saddlecloth.) Hollie is shown here with multiple saddles - for various riding conditions, weights, etc. Racing saddles only weigh about 1-2 pounds - contrasted with the 20lb of a normal English riding saddle - and are basically a strap that the stirrups hang from, since jockeys mostly stand up to ride.

This concludes "Getting Cillian Dressed, the Awkward Little Sod That He Is." Thank you so much for joining me and prompting this.

Appendix:

I depict Killie as a lightly bruised skeleton wrapped in a thin layer of mental problems, with the temperament of an unloved stray dog. This is not a nice state for a fellow to live in, so if I were to give him a happy ending, I would like Killie to age into a sort of healthy, roguish Franny Norton type (Franny, below, is the older jockey in white base layer. He raced for over 30 years and retired in 2024.) So if Killie were to be developed as a character, he would be poised for having some kind of fictional redemption arc that aligns with the overall improvement of working conditions for jockeys in 2025 and the potential redemption arc of his whole profession. it is possible, and increasingly less rare, for jockeys to be More Normal than Killie - as they very much should be!! the take-home message here should be that the profession has the potential to improve and may even do so. Emphasis on jockey and racehorse welfare would only help.

#killie and derek #Killie #killie and oholythunder #Elodie going on about jockeys again I guess!!!

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celtrist · 5 months ago

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RADIOMOTH BAD END ROUTE

In these endings, it's more or less assumed Alastor has gotten out of his deal (if the route doesn't involve his owner)

TW: Gender Dysphoria, Forced feminization, Physical Abuse, Slight Non-con elements, Conditioning, Stockholm Syndrome

In this ending, Vaggie successfully catches Alastor and marries him, much like Charlie's bad end (and this one, like her, can have the option of Charlie also being married to them or not). Depending on whether you want to go the force transitioning route: Alastor either gives up once Vaggie successfully forces a transition surgery onto him or (if you don't want to go that route) he just gives up, too tired to fight Vaggie and her traps.

Transition or not, Vaggie dresses him as a woman, forces him to grow his hair out, and just generally takes on a more feminine appearance. She goes as far as to rename him "Alison" and only refers to him as female in public. In private, she will at times refer to him as a male, but in the past tense and in a degrading way. She makes it a point to make sure he doesn't have his antlers. Whenever they start growing back, Alastor panics and hurries to rip them off before Vaggie sees them. It's painful, but always less painful than when Vaggie does it, as she's very violent with her approach. She will sometimes hit him for having antlers or even for seeing signs that they've regrown.

Anytime Alastor remarks discomfort with himself, Vaggie gets frustrated and berates him about it. When she notices him turning to accidental self-harm to deal with his discomfort (hair pulling, claw scratches, etc.), she admonishes and at times hit him as well (like if he pulls his hair, she'll pull his hair, yelling at him "isn't this what you like?").

Vaggie hides this poor behavior from Charlie (whether or not she's still in a relationship with Charlie or not in this route) and forces Alastor to keep quiet about it as well. If he gives any indication otherwise, she will punish him in private.

While I'm not sure if Alastor would or would not have all his bells and whistles (I feel like it would make sense in this route if Vaggie would find a way to "depower" him to make him easier to handle, but not sure how she'd do that. Maybe have him drinking diluted holy water over time? Alastor, more or less, has just given up on this route. He doesn't feel like he can do much else and is unmotivated to attack back.

It's not uncommon in the private sensual moments for her to get violent and belittle Alastor, and how she's the only one who would love a woman like him. In the case of a transitioning route, Vaggie will taunt him about having used to be a man. And if Alastor gives an indication that he wishes he had never transitioned, she will taunt him more and abuse him further until he says he's happy to be a woman. These more violent times occur when Alastor begins to show distress, typically for either the sex or his forced gender, but not exclusive to those. She will lightly degrade him when she's not angry, too, but it's mixed with sweet words as well. Giving him a whiplash of treatment. Most sensual times Vaggie does genuinely try to be nice and try to find what Alastor likes (whether he likes it or not). It's when Vaggie is already angry or frustrated with Alastor that she gets more abusive in these moments.

Vaggie isn't really abusing Alastor 24/7 (well, other than enforcing an unwanted gender identity and relationship, I suppose). Anything nice she would do for Charlie, she'd do for Alastor. Surprising him with things that he doesn't expect (like sinner meat or masculine clothing) is one of her favorite ways to show affection to see the brief light in his eyes from the gift.

Vaggie is as protective of Alastor as she is of Charlie, and she is also as very loving of him as she is of her. Vaggie will shower Alastor with genuine compliments, even in private sometimes she just wants to shower Alastor with love rather than any sort of abuse. Whenever Alastor does something particularly good (like introducing himself as Alison the first couple of times and holding her hand out of his own volition), she'll praise him and reward him for it. Vaggie takes more into consideration of attire for Alastor rather than what she just wants to see. While she still puts Alastor in "less than Alastor-styled" outfits from time to time, those clothes are mainly for private or special occasions. For the most part, Vaggie gives (and allows) Alastor clothes more up his alley, even suits as long as he still looks feminine enough.

While Vaggie will get violent with Alastor for showing discomfort with his forced gender, she normally first tries to comfort and praise Alastor about his body and self. It's when Alastor begins getting more upset that she'll get more abusive. She will always follow up her actions with comfort for Alastor. This would, I can imagine, grow into a Stockholm syndrome situation, especially if Alastor wanted to deny the situation he's in.

EDIT: I just wanted to note that I have toned down elements to this ending! It's not revamped, but I just thought I'd mention it as the more perverse elements for this ending didn't really add too much and felt needed to be added. But I did want to acknowledge this ending was a tad darker than it is described here!

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glamourscat · 7 months ago

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¡Shidou’s hcs and character analysis!

tw// childhood trauma, violence, reference to possible SA in his past, my writing cause I didn’t proffered this

PHYSICAL TOUCH!! Friends, lovers or even just acquaintances, he has the bad habit of seeking touch, small or big doesn’t matter. From shoving to fidgeting. It’s different obviously base on the relationship you have with him. Are you two friends? Expect playful shoves, ruffling each other’s hair, if sat together legs or shoulders will touch casually. He is the type of person to laugh and slap your shoulder while laughing.

If you two are lovers: hand holding (he does that thing of rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand), kisses, hair ruffling, legs intertwined, hugs from the back, nibbling/biting. Pressing his forehead against yours. SQUEEZES. Especially if you have more fat on you, he would *love* it. The need to hold you close and squish your rolls or chub.

I personally see him as unlabelled. I know a lot like to hc him as gay. And it does make sense, but one can flirt with guys and it doesn’t erase the possibility of being into women too. That said, I do believe he has a preference for guys, especially aesthetically, but ultimately his choice of a partner would be base on mental compatibility and aesthetic attraction, no gender. I feel he is into someone who truly enjoys being their true self and doesn’t conform to society norms, more on this in a sec.

He is complex, as we see glimpses of this in the “egoist bible” and during his internal dialogue (like in the U20 arc). I don’t think he would be a bad boyfriend, but neither would he be perfect. Objectively speaking, he does have a rough, almost explosive side. But that’s a side he brings onto the football field. How he is outside of football we don’t really know. He is shown to be someone who values uniques, and also strength, complimenting other players strengths. He is not a demon, he just so happens to be a human with a deep complex personality. He seems to value peace in his life outside of football, which is something you don’t expect from him. Because he gets presented as this brute individual and yet he is the same who pops out this answers: “What made you cry recently?” At the end of the day when I become nothing, tears come out.

“What will you do on your last day on earth” Watch it as it reaches its end

“How would you spend your day off?” Be free from everything and become nothing

His answers are, intense, are they not? Which leads me to several thoughts. 1) He is very lonely. Using humour and anger to defend himself, a common trait of children who were abused, neglected in their childhood.

2) base on this, I feel in a relationship he would enjoy someone who has similar vibes to him but ultimately is different. Someone he can be chaotic with, someone he can laugh as loud as he wants, someone with who he can gossip and still have deep conversations at the same time. Ultimately, an artistic partner would be the best. Not only because he is into art, mostly as a way to cool down and shut down his brain, but because an artist or even a writer can see the world under different shades of colours rather than in greyscale. Classical introverted x extrovert duo, with the exception that the introvert individual becomes as extrovert as him when they are alone. His partner is his ancor. He will need to feel at peace from the turmoil inside of him.

3)his home life was not the happy kind. Now, this has been long speculated and I will give my 50 cents on the matter. Let’s analyse his favourite movie, manga and song:

Music > hide. Especially "Pink Spider"

Movie > "A Clockwork Orange"

Manga > "Chainsawman"

On the base line all three explore the darker sides of humanity, the need for personal freedom, and the consequences of defying societal norms. They create a raw and intense narrative about self-destruction, survival, and transformation.

But if we dive deeper > the movie mainly depicts SA, it’s a twist mix of violence, societal injustices and lack of free will… “Chainsaw man” it’s all about violence, power imbalance and manipulation. Denji was a tool from the start to end (again, lack of free will). The song, explored themes of internal chaos, the darkness in humanity, destruction and emotional turbulence and the psychological tool that that violence and abuse leaves on people. I mean… can it be any more obvious? His whole character is shown to be this brute, rude, violent individual but slowly we are being feed details into his insight. Like how deeply philosophical he is, artistic and yet he is genuinely over sexualised. Maybe is a reach, but I don’t think that movie, the song and the manga choice are casual. They are a mirror image into the possibility that his childhood was pretty much terrible. That his sexual comments, which come off as almost distasteful, and feel icky in a way, are a projection of what he went through. Trying to use a distorted sense of humour and the violence he grew up with, to shield himself from what’s his personal life and past.

Like when he was locked up, his reaction was intense. He was close to begging to be set free. Again— lack of freedom, he hates not being able to be free. Something could have been taken away from him in the past. Maybe is as simple as a culture thing— as we know Japan is a rather modest country with certain unspoken rules. Its traditional outlook on things such as gender and sexuality are the total opposite of Shidou’s persona. His appearance is loud, his personality is loud and it alls screams “look at me I’m here” and yet at the end of the day he is still a lonely being.

I recently reread the U20 chapter where he enters on the field. His inner monologue he uses biology (specifically fertilization) as an analogy to scoring. Many people interpret it as him making a connection to sex, but for me, it didn’t read as such. Maybe it’s my literature student nerd ass, but, I took from his inner monologue a sense of need in terms of leaving a mark onto this world. He speaks how art leaves a mark, so does books, buildings and obviously children, showing the family legacy. Proof that something existed before them.

Shidou feels that his legacy, his needs, are validated through scoring. He feels seen, people are cheering. He is leaving a mark. Which ultimately could be validating a lack of emotional attention he received when he was a child. To me, all of these references and the constant sexual innuendos are a meaning for something deeper. We saw how each character with a heavy backstory has a trait or something in them that screams “something is not right”. Like Rin’s personality being a result of what happened between him and Sae. Can’t think of anything else to add, maybe I will add something later. If you have any opinions, I am more than willing to read them!! Feel free to reblog/comment :))

#Glamourscatwriting #blue lock #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #blue lock shidou #bllk shidou #shidou headcanons #character analysis #character angst #blue lock headcanons #bl Shidou #headcannons #my headcanons #anime and manga #blue lock manga

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ofseptarsis · 7 months ago

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'I'm not asking for an apology', Menodora says, after some apparent consideration, to which Tófi can only reply with a soft acknowledging sound and a nod.

Neither of them was the apologizing type, nor particularly forgiving, so it was only to be expected -nothing personal, just an extension of the way they'd been raised.

The closer she'd ever get to an apology per-se was what Tófi had already said: that they felt sorry for her reacting that way and acknowledging their part on the whole fiasco.

What was there for Tófi to apologize for, anyways? They'd merely voiced their thoughts (the wording could have been better, sure, but they'd gotten the point across) on the other's current state instead of taking advantage of any of it, reminded Moon of her place and what was expected of her.

None of it could be remotely considered constructive criticism, but it'd been a good way to get some well-deserved catharsis after harbouring some of those feelings for decades, and as such, couldn't be considered a mere moment of pettiness, either.

It might even be considered 'Tough love', Tófi muses-

-not the kind of 'tough love' that involved ripping the other's limbs to make them learn how to regrow them and condition them to withstand pain to best perform in the battlefield, mind: it hadn't really been the Septarian kind of way of pushing the other to do better, but a considerably kinder way to snap Menodora out of her self-pity, instead.

'What doesn't kill you...' was a very literal lesson for their kind, after all.

They'd learned that by Seth's hand, then had passed the knowledge down to Rasticore.

Still, some times things didn't quite go as planned, sometimes things got lost in translation:

The mental image of their younger sibling trying to squirm away from other's hold while repeating 'det gør ondt, lad venligst det stoppe!' like a mantra was, in a way, similar to Menodora's pleading to stop talking: neither of them could see the reason behind their actions, how it all was for their own good, until it was all said and done.

Sadly, Rasticore never quite learnt the lesson: he was (in)famous among Septarians for being the slowest to regenerate, the one whose limbs always looked weaker than the originals-

-Tófi could only hope Menodora would be better than him, that the next incarnation of the walls around her heart would be stronger than their sibling's limbs.

That cruelty could beget improvement.

She flinches when they step closer, but leans into them when they reach a hand to her shoulder, a moment later.

'I suppose I attacked you more literally' she murmurs.

"That is just nature" they reply "to attack when cornered, I mean. I do not particularly blame you for it"

Or rather, they could but to do so would make them just as bad as the Humans that judged Monsterkind.

Is it a rather performative reply: they are conditioned to not attack back if they wish to continue brandishing the double-edged sword that are Optics and the most modern interpretation of what Social Justice entails.

She isn't the only one who has to constantly try and find balance between their wants and their obligations, after all, it's just that Tófi has juggled both for so long that they make it look easy even if/when a voice deep inside of them scolds them for playing along their oppressor's rules, for trying to be 'a civilized Monster'-

-it's fucked up, in a way, how ingrained that idea eventually became: how they'd learnt to be not only more accommodating but sometimes even more human(e) than humans in order to be somewhat accepted-

-how they continue to do so, even now.

This whole situation is a good example of just how confusing it can all be, even to Tófi themselves: is their reaching out to her, the way they softly caress her shoulder as they slowly guide them towards the kitchen, something they do out of that obligation to be better than, or a legit expression of concern for someone they harbour so many feelings (not all of them good, as evidenced by their previous words) towards?

'what, dear Torvald, makes such a biting performance necessary?'

That is such an open-ended question that there is no good way Tófi can answer it out-loud even when they know that it's all about how Destruction and Love are so inextricably linked in their mind ("det gør ondt, lad venligst det stoppe!") that they can't quite distinguish one from the other.

"Wait a second" they say, instead, as they let go of her for a second to look for the promised Ibuprofen, then filling a glass with tap water.

She's feeling a little dizzy, she says.

She could use some rest, she also says.

And it's 'Tófi', not Torvald, to who she tells all of this.

"I know, Moon" the Septarian replies, handing her the pill and the glass full of water "but first, this"

They pause, making sure that she'd downed at least half the water on the glass, then placed it on the nearest surface.

"I will guide you to bed" they announce, moving close to her "and if you cannot walk there then I will carry you -I believe my shoulder should be fine by now"

A pause, then-

"You will just have to promise me to try your best to not have any more bad dreams. It would be a shame if we had to go through this all over again"

@menodoramoon

genfødte sandheder || Tófi & Moon

#t: Genfødte sandheder #c: Moon #tw: dismemberment mentions #tw: physical abuse reference #tw: canon compliant Septarian-on-Septarian violence #tw: burn mention

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daydreams-after-dark · 7 months ago

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The Sunshine Princesses

Pairing: Soft Dom female reader x Sub Felix x Sub Jisung

Summary: Felix loves to dress up for you in layers and layers of lace and fabric. He wants to be all pretty for you, so he steals your make-up and powders his face, applies blush to create rosy cheeks and lipstick to give him a delicious look. He knows you like to play with him like this.

or, You come back to your quarters to find your little Lixie has hidden a young man in the wardrobe.

Word Count: 5k

Setting: French historical palace vibes, but absolutely not historically accurate. Refer to photos/vision board above for inspiration on the feel I was going for with this story.

a/n: this is a re upload of a previously posted work.

CW below the cut.

CW: feminisation (reader refers to them as princesses), cross dressing, mommy kink, reader refers to herself as “mommy” and calls Felix and Jisung “baby boys” etc but they are 22 approx in age with reader older (you decide her age as it’s not specified), spanking, oral sex, p in v unprotected intercourse, cream pie, orgasms, anal fingering (m rec). Cum swapping, voyeurism, praise kink.

TW: the following is in reference to Jisung’s situation prior to this story: mentions of physical abuse, Jisung has bruises, reference to sex trafficking, selling, implied potential sexual abuse (no characters were sexually abused).

🎀 🎀 🎀

Felix loves to dress up for you in layers and layers of lace and fabric. He wants to be all pretty for you, so he steals your make-up and powders his face, applies blush to create rosy cheeks and lipstick to give him a delicious look. He knows you like to play with him like this.

You will be arriving at your quarters any minute now and Felix adjusts himself on the plush bed, ensuring his garments are positioned just right. He is hard, his cock is leaking from the tip. The anticipation of what’s to come is almost too much for him to handle. But he is also hiding something from you, and he’s not sure how you will react.

He hears the door, signaling your arrival.

🎀 🎀 🎀

“Oh my beautiful baby boy. All dressed up pretty for me, hmm?” you purr as you climb up onto the bed, hovering above Felix.

He looks stunning. Ethereal. Like an angel. An angel you want to ruin.

“Let’s see what state you’re in, shall we?” you shuffle down the bed enough to start lifting the layers of fabric. No undergarments. Just his neglected erection, painfully hard, pink at the tip and leaking pre-cum. So fucking delicious, you think to yourself.

“Let me take care of you sweetie.” you reassure him as you grip his cock in your hand, ready to sink your mouth down over it.

“Mommy. Yes… I’ve been a good boy for you. All pretty and waiting.” he pants.

“Shh. It’s okay. Mommy’s got you.” You lick the underside of his shaft from balls to tip and then swirl your tongue around the slit, before starting again. “You look so pretty, Lixie.”

You love him like this, waiting for you to make him feel good. Such a precious boy. You take his balls into your mouth and hum whilst pumping his cock excruciatingly slowly, eliciting a deep groan from the boy on the bed. “You’re good enough to eat.” you smirk up at him and sink down over his shaft again and open your throat for him. Your lips meet his pelvis, his lips part with a sigh and his eyes roll back into his head. He tries his hardest not to buck his hips upward. You can tell he’s using all his self control from the way he’s gripping the sheets with white knuckle fists.

You love nothing more than pleasuring your Lixie, especially when he’s made such an effort for you tonight. Your eyes water as you bob your head up and down his length and saliva dribbles down making a mess around the base. Just the way he likes it. Messy boy.

Felix’s moans become louder and louder as he nears his climax, and you release him from your mouth just long enough to say “Come on baby, feed Mommy your sweet cum” and dive back down his cock just in time for him to shoot his load into your mouth. You carefully hold the cum on your tongue as you make your way up to kiss him. He parts his lips for you, allowing you to push it into his mouth. “Was so good I had to share it with you my darling boy.” and you lean down to kiss him again.

You groan into Felix’s mouth and he hums back. And then a whimper.

A whimper? But it was neither from yourself or Felix. You open your eyes and snap your head around to your wardrobe cupboard suspiciously. A clunk from inside has you climbing off your bed to investigate. “Mommy,” Felix begs “Please don’t-”

Cautiously, you open the wardrobe door to find a boy of about twenty years old crouching inside with the most scared expression you’ve ever seen. His wide eyes, open mouth, and positively chubby cheeks has you melting, and you feel a tug at your chest. You love to take care of little Princes.

“Oh deary me. What are you doing in here? Why don’t you come on out you poor frightened little thing.” You say gently, holding out your hand to the boy. He hesitates momentarily before reaching for you, standing and climbing out of the wardrobe.

“That’s it. Come on out. There you go, don’t be afraid.” you say encouragingly and usher him over to sit on the end of the bed with his cute little legs dangling off the side of your high set mattress.

“Felix!” You stay sternly to the sheepish young man on the bed. His face is still flushed and fucked out. “Did you know about this? Did you hide this poor boy in my room?”

Felix sits up and leans on his elbows. “S-sorry, Mommy,” he stutters. “He was being mistreated in the kitchens… I… I had to help him.” he pleads.

“Hmm.” you scoff and turn your attention back to the cutest little squirrel you ever laid your eyes on. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” you ask gently cupping his cheek. He looks up at you like a lost puppy. His big bambi eyes on the brink of tears.

“Ji-Jisung.” he replies.

“Jisung. That’s a pretty name.” you stroke his cheek and he visibly quivers. You stand and step back to take him in. Brown shaggy hair, big brown eyes, chubby cheeks, the most delectable pink lips. He was pretty. Absolutely pretty, and you are almost certain what Felix means by him being mistreated. The boy is ravishing. His clothes are another story entirely. Drab, beige common clothes. Who is this boy? Possibly a servant?

Jisung opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but then quickly closes it again, remaining silent.

“Sungie? Can I call you that?” you ask kneeling on the floor at his feet. He doesn’t meet your eyes but nods. “Have people hurt you Sungie?” you press. Jisung flinches and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. “You can tell me.” you place an encouraging hand on his knee.

“Yes.” He whispers. “They beat me.”

“Jisung,” Felix speaks. “Show Mommy your bruises.” and is at Jisung’s side wrapping an arm around him and holding him close for a moment.

“Felix, please go fetch washing up supplies and something for Jisung to sleep in.” Felix nods and immediately springs into action and exits your room in search of supplies, leaving you and Jisung alone.

“Will you show me Sungie? Show me what they did.”

Jisung slowly slips off the bed and removes his garments, deciding to take off absolutely everything and standing stark naked in the middle of the room.

You pull in a sharp gasp at the number of bruises, of all shades of blue and purple, that cover his upper body where his skin should be the same delicious honey colour of the rest of his body.

You continue to scan your eyes over him. His shoulders are broad, and his toned torso tapers off into the tiniest waist you’ve ever seen. You ignore the feeling in your core as best as humanly possible, but when your eyes drop a little further you see the most delicious cock you’ve ever laid eyes on, you feel yourself grow wet. His dick isn’t hard but you know that when it is it’ll be spectacular.

“Ahem.” Felix scurries back into the room with supplies ready to wash Sungie to make him feel fresh, clean and safe.

“Did they touch you, Sungie?” You ask as you sit him down in a chair and begin his sponge bath.

“No…not like that… not yet anyway.”

“Not yet?” you pause. Jisung doesn’t elaborate.

“Mommy,” Felix speaks up beside you. “Jisung was going to be given away from the people running the kitchens to a lord for… entertainment. I had to help.”

“It’s okay, Lixie. You did good, baby.” you reassure him.

“You’re not mad?”

Oh you are mad. But not at Felix. Your mind runs through all the evil, degrading treatment that would be awaiting Jisung if Felix didn’t take him in.

But aren’t you just as bad with Felix? A voice in your head pipes up. But you remember you gave Felix free choice. He could stay with you if he wanted, and he could leave if he wanted. It was his idea to dress up pretty for you. It was his request for you to treat him like a little whore. He bravely approached you with his kinks and fantasies. You were happy to have him just bring your dinner and help you into your poofy dresses. You didn’t intend for him to be getting you out of them, or have him wear them himself. It was Felix who ignited this in you. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t feel like and he’s free to stop at any time.

But this Jisung might not be interested in that sort of thing, and that is okay. But if he is interested?

“Jisung? Were you watching us through the crack in the wardrobe door?” you ask. Jisung squeezes his eyes tight and nods. “Hmm. And what did you think, Sungie?”

“I liked it.” He whispers and looks at the ground.

You arch an eyebrow. Interesting.”You did?”

“Yes.” he nods. “I’ve never seen it like…like that before.” he looks wide eyed at you and Felix.

“What do you mean, my love?” you inquire, washing over his bruises carefully.

“Well, it looked so caring and gentle. I’ve only ever seen it rough and brutal…and the person whose face is being…” he swallowed. “is never actually enjoying it.”

“Mommy likes to make me feel good…and feel pretty…and feel loved.” Felix smiles, drying off Jisung where you’d washed him already.

“Sungie. I love to take care of Felix. Anything he wants I want to give to him.” you look to Felix and then back to Jisung. “And he loves to be my beautiful princess.”

“Oh I do. I really do.” gushes Felix.

“But what do you get in return?” Jisung asks you, watching your hand wiping down his forearm.

“Oh, Lixie takes care of Mommy too.” you reply matter of fact.

“But how?” He presses.

“Can I show him, Mommy?” Felix says excitedly.

“Would you like that, Sungie? Would you like to see?” you cup his jaw and turn his face to yours.

“Yes… yes please.” There is silence for a moment. “M-mommy?” he whispers quietly. “Will you look after me too?”

You look down to see his cock is hard and there is a bead of precum on the tip. Fuck you want nothing more than to kitten lick it right off him. What does he taste like?

“Sorry… um… Mommy?” He says shyly when he sees you notice his arousal.

“That’s okay, baby boy. But you do have a rather pretty one.”

“I knew he’d have a pretty one.” Felix sighs, staring longingly at Jisung’s cock.

“I’m glad that Felix brought you here and those bad, despicable men won’t be able to touch you.” You place your hands on both his cheeks and squish them. Adorable. “Of course I’ll take care of you in whatever way you need, Sungie. But for tonight, I feel it’s best if you just watch, okay? But you can sleep in bed with us after. Would that be okay?”

Jisung considers your proposal and nods.

You finish washing and drying Jisung and help him into the pretty nightie Felix brought in. Fresh white linen down to his calves and a simple little bow around the neckline and usher him to the bed.

You spend the next hour or so showing Jisung how Felix takes care of you. You get him comfortable on the bed, sitting up against the mountain of pillows, and you lay down beside him, completely naked. “Sungie,” you pant in anticipation as Felix nestles his head between your legs. “Watch.”

Felix begins to pepper kisses along your inner thigh and pushes your legs wider and presses them against the mattress. Your Lixie is strong even if he enjoys being dainty and helpless.

“Don’t tease Mommy, Lixie. You know what I need you to do. Show Sungie how you take care of me.”

Felix presses his tongue flat against your aching pussy and you buck your hips up automatically. “Yes. Yes, my baby boy, my…fuck me with your tongue.” Your fingers thread through his blond hair. “Yes…just like that.” You say breathlessly.

You pull his hair forcing his face to press up hard against your cunt and continue to rock your hips against his face. He hums and moans, enjoying himself immensely. He enures he gives your entire pussy attention, spending time on your clit, then moving down your entrance and fucking you with his tongue. He moves lower still and presses his tongue against your asshole, teasing it until it lets him breach the ring of muscle and fuck you there too. Your little Lixie can’t get enough of your pussy or your ass. Desperate, needy little boy. Making you feel. So. Fucking. “God Lixie I’m cum-“ you shake and tremble around Felix’s face as your back lifts off the mattress and you are seeing stars.

You sink back down into the bed and let go of his hair, allowing him to finally come up for air. “It tastes so good. Mommy’s pussy’s so pretty.” He cooes and runs a finger through your sopping folds. “Can I share some with Sungie, Mommy?”

You hesitate momentarily, catching your breath, but eventually nod, giving him permission. You are cautious, worrying that Jisung might not be ready to be involved.

You turn to the boy next to you. “You want a taste, Sungie?” You ask softly, and Felix offers his slicked finger to him.

The boy’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at the offering and he shuffles onto his knees to allow Felix to slip his finger into his mouth.

Jisung groans and closes his eyes while sucking Felix’s digit completely clean. He lets out a shaky breath as he opens his eyes slowly and locks eyes on your pussy.

“Fuck.” He squeaks and flops back into the mattress and looks at the ceiling like he was questioning his life’s existence. His nightie drapes over his erection and you bite your lip imagining all the things he could do with it.

🎀 🎀 🎀

After Felix has cleaned himself up and removed his makeup, he climbs into bed and snuggles up behind you. You’re facing Jisung, simply holding him in an embrace.

“Sungie. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, and you can leave at any time too. I need you to understand that.”

“Thank you… Mommy?” He seems unsure of what he should call you.

“Is that what you want to call me?” you stroke his hair and feel him shift on the mattress.

“I think I do.” he sighs and drifts off to sleep.

🎀 🎀 🎀

At some point in the night you wake up rather abruptly when you feel a hard erection pressing against your ass. Jisung. The only barrier between your bodies is yours and Jisung’s nighties rubbing together as he grinds against you seeking relief. Then you hear a stifled whimper followed by a wetness seeping through the fabric of your nightgown and sticking to your back.

You say nothing about it.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Over the next few days Felix helps Jisung settle in, lends him clothes, teaches him your schedule and important names of the court. Jisung eagerly takes it all in. In the afternoons Felix reads poetry to him, and Jisung teaches Felix songs.

Every night for the next week you and Felix demonstrate for Jisung something intimate and naughty. Then you put on your nightwear and snuggle into bed.

Each night Jisung gets a little bolder with his antics. On the second night you can tell he’s lifted his nightie up when he grinds against your back, and he lets himself moan just a little bit louder as he comes. Your core aches, desperate to be fucked, as you feel his cum on your nightie again, causing it to cling to your skin. You pretend not to notice but fuck you want to touch yourself so badly.

The third night he gets a little bolder still and tries to nestle his length right between your ass cheeks, trapping his bare cock between the fabric of your nightie and his stomach. You stay still, allowing Jisung to do what he needs to for his own pleasure and release. As usual, you say nothing.

On the fourth night he does the same thing except this time you have shimmied your own nightie up around your waist, leaving yourself bare and exposed. You feel him scooch up behind you and, yes there it is, his bare cock pressing against your exposed ass. Jisung gasps at the unexpected unobstructed contact. But when you don’t move he assumes you’re asleep and so he holds onto his cock and runs the sensitive tip along your ass crack, up and down, over and over. His breath is shallow and ragged.

“Sungie?” You say low and firm. Jisung halts his movements.

“I…I’m… so-sorry… Mommy.” He chokes and pulls away. “You’re just so pretty…and you make me so…so…so hard.”

“Hmm.” Is all you reply.

“Mommy? Are you mad? Am I…are you going to punish me?” He whispers desperately. The corners of your mouth curl up. Baby Sungie wants to be punished, hmm?

“Keep that up and yes… you will be punished.” You sigh, feigning annoyance. “But if you stop right now, then I will let it slide and pretend nothing happened.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” He whispers and you immediately feel his cock return to rest against your bare skin. He runs the tip down between your cheeks and squeezes it between your thighs. You lift your top leg ever so slightly to give him access to nestle his velvety smooth cock between your thighs and the length of his shaft against your dripping core. You squeeze your thighs back together, encasing Jisung’s cock entirely with your soft body.

“Mommy!” He tries to keep his cries down. “Mommy… feels so good.” He begins to fuck your thighs, the friction of his cock against your cunt causes a knot in your stomach to quickly tighten. You want to play with yourself, play with him, so bad, but you remain strong and let Jisung chase his pleasure.

“Hmm, you really do want to be punished don’t you Sungie? Such a naughty little boy.” Jisung’s hips speed up “Yes, Mommy… please. Sungie’s been bad.”

“And how does Sungie need to be punished?” you squeeze your thighs together even harder.

“Nngnh…Sungie…needs…aargh…feels s’good Mommy…Sungie needs spanking.” with a little grunt Jisung coats your inner thighs with thick hot cum and slips out from between your legs, spent.

Sungie needs spanking? This will be fun.

You roll over and hold Jisung and he falls asleep almost instantly. Your legs are sticky, but you don’t care, and you reach down to finish yourself off while thinking about spanking little Sungie’s cute ass.

🎀 🎀 🎀

The next day sees you outside of your chambers for most of the day, attending court matters, functions, and other mind numbing activities, and isn’t until late afternoon that you return to your room.

You smile with delight when you enter finding Felix and Jisung at your vanity dresser. Jisung sitting on your little stool while Felix fusses over him applying makeup to his face. Both are dressed up pretty in your puffy, lace dresses and Felix has already painted his own face with your blush and rouge lipstick. They turn when they notice your presence.

“Oh Mommy, you’re home. We thought we’d surprise you.” Felix beams.

Your hands come up to cover your mouth in surprise. “Oh my beautiful boys, have you dressed up just for me?” You approach the two young men and stroke their cheeks affectionately. “My pretty little princesses.” you whisper lovingly. The pair of them look back at you with innocent expressions, so desperate for your approval. “You’ve done so good.” you plant a small peck on their cheeks before moving to sit in one of your chairs.

“Come. Kneel in front of me.” you instruct, and they eagerly do as you ask. “Now. I must know. What kind of games are you wanting Mommy to play? Lift your skirts.”

Felix and Jisung reach for the hem of their dresses and simultaneously lift the front of their skirts to their waist, revealing their matching thigh high white stockings and their bare, erect cocks. You immediately feel your cunt pulsate. Such pretty cocks to play with. You bite your lower lip and cross your legs. Fuck, you’re turned on.

“Tsks tsk…I see. You boys want to play naughty, filthy games. Don’t you?” you muse. “Stand up, but keep your skirts lifted.” you drop down off your chair onto your knees in front of them and let your hands trail up their stockings. You gently let your fingers caress their inner thigh, taking your time before turning your attention to their obscene erections.

“Oh dear. These look so painful. Do they hurt?” you coo as you take a cock in each hand and inspect them. The boys hiss at your touch, their cute little legs trembling.

“So painful, Mommy.” Felix whispers.

“It’s so swollen.” Jisung whimpers.

“Naww. Lucky Mommy’s here to help make you better.” You swirl your tongue around Felix’s tip before swapping to Jisung’s. You’ve been dying to taste Jisung’s cock for a week and you close your eyes and take him deeper into your mouth. You groan. Jisung groans. Felix groans too as you pump his cock. You alternate between the two delicious penises until they are on the brink of exploding. Much to their dismay, you let go and return to your chair, leaving them sobbing for release.

“It’s okay my poor babies. I promise we will play very soon. But first, Jisung. Your punishment. Come.” you curl your finger ushering him forward. Jisung’s eyes widen enthusiastically and he practically falls over his feet to get to you and kneels in front of you.

“I’m going to take care of you okay? Now, are you sure you want me to spank you?” you ask in a soft tone and hold his face in your hands. “I’m going to give you a word to remember. If at any time you are not enjoying anything at all, use the word and everything stops. Okay? Do you understand?’ Jisung nods. “Good. Your word is ‘poodle’. You can remember that, yes?”

“Poodle.” Jisung echoes.

“Good boy. I need you to lay across my lap. That’s it.” Jisung complies eagerly, laying over you as directed. You lift his skirt up to expose his perfect, honey toned ass, and rub your palm over his cheek, squeezing and kneading the flesh.

“Okay. I’m going to start your punishment now.” You raise your hand and land a firm smack to Jisung’s ass. He whimpers and tries not to squirm. “Only nine more baby, and then Mommy will make you feel good.”

You continue to spank Jisung. Not too hard, but enough to leave red marks. The last thing you want to do is cause any trauma, especially after knowing that he’s been beaten in the past. You come down with the final smack and rub your hand over his skin soothingly. “Good boy, Sungie. Lixie,” you look up to where Felix is sitting on the floor gazing at Jisung. “Lixie, please. The oil.” you say.

Felix passes you the bottle of oil from your vanity and you drizzle some of the liquid onto Jisung’s ass cheeks, and then a little at the top of his crack. He wriggles beneath you at the sensation of the oil siding down to his balls. “Such a good boy for me.” you massage the oil into his reddened skin. “Sweet sweet boy.” You pull his cheeks apart and gasp at the sight of his perfect, tight little hole, and you just have to touch it. Slowly, as not to scare the poor boy, you run your finger over it. Jisung whimpers. “Do you need to use your word, Sungie?” He shakes his head. “Feels nice.” Good. You circle his slippery rim several times until Jisung is trying to wriggle back against your finger, signaling he needs more. And then your finger is pressing inside.

“M-mommy!” Jisung gasps.

“Fuck.” Felix mutters from the side.

You slowly pump your finger in and out of Jisung until you can feel he is ready for a second digit. He lets out the cutest, most desperate little noises as you loosen him up.

“Can I kiss him, Mommy.” Felix whispers.

“Sungie, honey. You hear that? Felix would love to help take care of you too. Is that okay?”

Jisung nods his head. “Yes… please, Lixie. Need Lixie.” Jisung is coming undone. Felix crouches down by Jisung’s head and lifts it up to meet him. “You’re so pretty Sungie.” Felix smiles and takes Jisung into a slow, deep kiss while you slip in a third finger. Jisung writhes beneath you and then he’s coming hard, squealing into Felix’s mouth and spurting cum all over his inner thighs and carpet.

Felix helps Jisung over to the bed and makes quick work of cleaning him up, praising him the entire time. “Let’s get ready for Mommy now.” He settles himself down next to Jisung so they are laying side by side, dresses lifted up for you to see.

It is a magnificent sight, having your two princes, or princesses rather, laying there ready for you, pretending they’re innocent, when all they want is for you to do naughty things to them.

You strip off entirely and climb onto the bed and begin with touching your own body. You caress your breasts and pinch your nipples, slowly taking your hand down the front of your body and between your legs. Your breath becomes shallow and your skin heats up as you watch your lovers watch you pleasure yourself.

“Please, Mommy. Stop teasing. Lixie won’t last.” Felix sobs.

“It’s alright, my Lixie. I’ll take care of you first.” You crawl close to him and straddle his lap and slide your slick pussy over his hardness. His cock is more than ready. Propping yourself up onto your knees, you guide yourself down over Felix’s length. Thick, hard as stone, and stretching you out deliciously. “I’m going to start fucking myself on you now.” you say and begin to bounce up and down his shaft. “Mommy, it’s too…slow down…plea-ease!” Felix whines and you know it’s because he’s been on the verge of coming untouched for the last little while. You lean down and kiss his lips, smearing rouge lipstick across his mouth. You love it when he looks like a messy little slut.

You don’t slow down, determined to free him from the agony of his hard on, and it doesn’t take long until you feel him cumming deep inside you. He fills you up with so much cum that it seeps out almost immediately. You don’t orgasm, you’re saving it for Sungie. Oh god, poor Sungie. You rake your eyes over his body. His face is fucked out already and he is so fucking hard again. Exactly the way you want him.

You carefully slide off Felix’s softening cock and cover him up with his skirt. You give him a little kiss and tell him he’s a good boy before climbing onto Jisung and straddling his hips.

You can barely contain your excitement. “Hey Sungie.” you smile down at him. “You ready? You want to be inside Mommy? Fill her up with your cum?”

“Yes…so bad. Want you… to play with me.” he says in a tiny voice. You feel Felix’s cum still leaking out of your body and dribbling onto Jisung’s length.

“Okay, sweet sweet Sungie.” you whisper as you lower yourself onto his cock, taking him in one motion. Your gaze doesn’t leave his beautiful face, as you begin to roll your hips slowly, undulating on top of him. He tries to keep his eyes open, but everytime you sink back down to completely engulf him he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and moan.

“That’s it, Sungie. Filling Mommy up so fucking good.” you purr. “Does it feel good for you sweetie?”

“Mmmh…feels..so” he chokes as you rock harder on his cock. “So tight…slippery…warm.”

He opens his eyes and they land on your tits. Your cunt squeezes at the thought of his plush red lips around your nipple, and Sungie cries out at the contraction of your walls. He’s close. But so are you.

“Sungie, help Mommy…Come, sit up. Suck my tits.” you pull him up desperately, and he immediately wraps his lip around your breast and sucks the nipple into his mouth. It makes you fuck yourself harder on his cock, you need your release. So fucking bad. You’re panting and practically growling as your cunt clenches around him, and when he bites down on your nipple hard you explode. You throw your head back, and cry out his name. You’re not given a chance to come back down, before Jisung starts to thrust up into you uncontrollably and makes a high pitched whine. At the same time you feel him release his load deep inside you.

“Fuck, Sungie. Jisung.” you hold him to your chest, breathing heavily, trying to calm your heart rate.

“Was I good?” he looks up at you with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You push away the damp hair that is stuck to his forehead and place a tiny, soft kiss to his skin. “So good. You made Mommy cum so hard on your pretty cock. Such a clever boy.”

He beams up at you and snuggles close. You climb off of Jisung and lay between the two young men. The three of you feel blissed out and content.

‘Mommy?” Felix eventually breaks the silence. “I’m a clever boy too. Look! I got it hard again!”

It seems your boys aren’t finished playing.

.....

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#jilix x reader #jilix smut #han jisung smut #lee felix smut #skz smut #han x reader #felix x reader #sorshas fic

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