#twas very annoying

[outlawcare]

Lyrics from "Can't Be Erased" by JT Music

[mourningcandles]

wait did I talk about the Half-mad Mourner here because uhhh Idris reflection fun

do you ever hold back your grief so you can pursue vengeance but it still exists somewhere? no? you're normal? okay so it's just them.

it's okay, they eventually faced it and that reflection faded, perhaps into a memory or perhaps into a reality. now Idris is openly a mess and their reflection shows the delusion they held during the height of their ambition that if they found out why their daughter was killed, their life would return to making sense... and their daughter would come back to life.

this reflection doesn't have a title. it's too familiar to merit its own name.

[hizznbyte]

HOLYHOLYOLYSHITIM LOSING MY MIND NEW YONKAGOR SONG DROPPED TODAY AND [as always] ITS PEAK IM SOBBING TEARS

THE ART AND ANIMATION IS GORGEOUS?!:!:?:! waow André Moraph will never let us down wow… absolutely stunning!! And Droplet being sad makes me sad AAAAGHHH the visual of them being held by the ghostly guy OUUU

AND DUDE. THOSE INSTRUMENTALS?? IM OBSESSED. THAT GUITAR. THAT SAX. AAAA THEYRE SO GOOD. Sorry I’m fanboying out a little…

Oh look hey Teto has a part in the ending vocals LOL

I beg of yall to give this a listen,, maybe just check it out and some other Yonkagor songs because they are genuinely so awesome sauce… hey, I’m not indoctrinating you or anything but..

[smiles]

[kitmoas]

Omg are you guys dating

me and @themidnightcrimson?

[sunflower-chai]

rundown of my first sunday singing in church choir:

and can it be - only knew the chorus, had to sight read the verses

come thou fount - sopranos had the melody so it was easy. no mistakes 🙌🏻

psalm 8 - sang the wrong notes for one phrase. had to strain for the high note at the end

great is thy faithfulness - started coughing halfway through

so overall pretty good 👍🏻

[theood]

Tannis can you send your weird thing out of the room?

What? D0G? No he's perfectly fine. He's in a powered down state right now anyway. In no way is he going to hinder or stop our conversation. Besides, he's holding half of my equipment right now since the Vault Hunter has decided to take up residency in the medical bay

Not fixing this sketch up you're gonna look at it as is

[reinabeestudio]

Just had to update all my audio files on the site to a different place since discord links might not work at some point

[pomefioredove]

So idk if I'm requesting in the right place. But I would love a twst scenario with a yuu that just says all their intrusive thoughts. Like just out of NOWHERE, as they reach for a water bottle hanging out with the first years they go.

“I robbed a house back home”

Or when Azul tries cornering them with the twins for something they just blankly turn to Floyd going.

“duck off you look like you can't steer a shopping cart”

But feel free to do it with whoever you want and if you don't want to do mine that's perfectly fine and I hope you have a great day :)

certainly!!

summary: reader who speaks all their impulsive thoughts type of post: headcanons characters: heartslabyul, octavinelle, scarabia, diasomnia additional info: platonic or romantic, reader isn't specified to be yuu, reader is gender neutral author's note: for some reason I had the hardest time thinking up new nonsense, so many of these dialogue lines are from lewis carroll poems, which I have a wonderful nostalgia for. check those out as well!

Ace and Deuce are pretty much used to you saying whatever's at the top of your mind... with no filter

so used to it that it barely even registers with them anymore

whenever it's quiet, they can expect you to come out with some incomprehensible nonsense.

if you didn't, they'd probably ask what's wrong

"I robbed a house back home,"

"Yeah, okay,"

Riddle, on the other hand, gets frustrated alarmingly fast

despite running an entire dorm based on nonsensical rules, he has a low tolerance for outside nonsense

and... well, despite his name, he's not really a fan of riddles

Trey matches your energy immediately

no joke. he doesn't even bat an eye

"I eat plastic,"

"hm. sometimes I eat muffin wrappers,"

honestly, sometimes his tangents get even weirder than yours

Cater probably wasn't listening very closely when you first started going off, or maybe he's just become accustomed to riddles, though the next time you say something he just thinks it's cute

might use your "thoughtful anecdotes" as a caption for his next post

would it be surprising if I were to say Azul is used to randomness?

Floyd has a tendency to say the strangest things out of nowhere, after all, and the sea itself can be a surprising place

he does not, however, appreciate how you keep speaking in tongues when he's trying to have serious business conversations with you

(seriously, how hard can it be to swindle one person?!)

"Please, just talk normally,"

"But the mome raths outgrabe!"

he doesn't know what that means, but it sounds like an insult

...and then will refuse to converse with you again until you're in a "better mood" (in his own words)

Jade, on the other hand, finds you quite fascinating

he keeps a little notepad on him just to jot down the things you say. why? you can't imagine. he just finds it interesting, you suppose

"'Twas brilling..."

"Really? How interesting. Go on,"

Floyd isn't really paying much attention

your funny words amuse him at best and annoy him at worse

if you ever find yourself in a bad place with the octotrio, you can just say something like:

"You look like you can't steer a shopping cart,"

and Floyd will take actual offense to that, and just straight up leave

(much to Azul's dismay)

Kalim adds on right away

and keeps going

and keeps going... and keeps going...

"How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail..."

"Oh, I know! He pours waters on every shining scale,"

at one point Jamil has to pull you aside and beg you not to encourage him

"No promises!" is your answer

Kalim even buys a parrot to add onto the fun

it becomes a three-person (or two-person-and-a-bird?) act

...even if you're not really doing it on purpose

Jamil is who ends up taking care of the parrot while it squawks your old nonsense thoughts, though

he likes the parrot much better than either of you

Malleus will entertain you based on his own curiosity

none of his other human classmates speak in such odd and puzzling words, so he knows it's a "you" thing

might try to solve them if they sound like riddles

but he mostly just thinks they're cute

"O, oysters, come and walk with us,"

"How interesting... I do wonder where you come up with all this,"

Sebek will listen to you because Malleus does, and Silver has enough nonsense to deal with as it is. will definitely fall asleep while you're talking to him

Lilia responds in like terms

meow at him? he'll meow back

in fact, he'll meow at you every time he sees you until you say something else to capture his curiosity

might go ahead and start speaking to you in tongues before you even say anything

he just thinks you're neat!

[soobrat]

fuck up my life; hjs

milestone celebration masterlist

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ pairing; han jisung x afab!reader (+ lee know)

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ words; 12.3k

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ genre; smut, angst!!!

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ warnings; very toxic relationship, two deplorable dirty cheaters, public sex, mutual masturbation, choking, very rough sex, bondage, ball gag, unprotected sex, slut shaming, large cock, dubcon(? just to be safe), slapping, squirting, spanking, biting, casual sex, you're going to hate mc and Jisung they're horrible people and just when you think it can't get worse hooooo boy

↻ ◁ || ▷ : If you can't set aside your morals for a story centered around two cheaters, I don't blame you, but this fic ain't for you lol. This is the first part of the second story! I'm so late to 1.5k that we're close to 2k, so I can't wait to start writing that one. Right now I'll just focus on the other two parts of this :*)

act i ➻ yeah right

Your blue eyeshadow was too flashy. Your cut crease and eyeliner too sharp and intense. Your overlined nude lipstick was downright gaudy. Feeling pleased, you stand from your vanity and inspect your outfit in the full-body mirror to your left. 

The thin silk fabric cinched in slightly at your waist, accentuating your breasts and hips. You’re basically telling men to look at them. Oh, and that slit. You turn to get a better look at it, tsking when you catch a glimpse of the swell of your ass. With how high the slit runs up and how short the dress is to begin with, you might as well just go out in your underwear. You looked like a cheap, tacky whore.

It was perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you adjust the collar of your dress. With there being no sleeves on your dress or anything covering your shoulders, the thick piece of fabric was the only thing keeping you from flashing the entire club. Long strips of silk cascade down your back after you tie it securely around your neck. 

You flounce past your drunken boyfriend on the couch, the loud click and clack of your D’orsay heels taunting him to take a look. He scrambles to sit up and doesn’t bother turning off the TV. He’s annoyed but not that bothered by you leaving the house in this state.

“What, are you going out to find someone to fuck?” He slurs. You spare him by not even glancing once. You’re sure he doesn’t want to be seen when he’s being a belligerent fool. “Huh? Is that what you’re doing? You look like a prostitute!” He yells more frantically when he realizes he’s not deterring you. You snicker before finally looking back at the poor man. His shirt is more stain than polyester and his blue-striped boxers sit crooked on his hips. His hair is a mess and he can barely keep his eyes open.

“‘Twas the goal, my love.” You smile with a wink before leaving him to drink himself to sleep.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You hadn’t been to The Eve in years, since before you were cleansed. You enter and become engulfed by the pulsing music and dancing bodies. Looking around you can’t help but smile. This is where you belong. Across the room is a man who doesn’t share this sentiment. He feels out of place. He glances around nervously at the shameless PDA and lousy dancing. He should be at home with his loving girlfriend. 

Jiwoo is breathtaking. Her expressive eyes and radiant smile keep his lungs in constant lockdown. It’s true that she and Jisung are extremely different. She’s an early bird while he’s a night owl. Her active lifestyle makes Jisung seem sedentary. Also, she doesn’t want to have sex much at all. And when they do have sex, it’s vanilla missionary. At the beginning of their relationship, Jisung was convinced her lifestyle just needed some getting used to. Three years later and he's only gotten less strong-willed. He’s suffocating.

He needs to breathe.

Jisung has been off the market for quite a while now. After moving in with Jiwoo, his priorities shifted. He’s not a kid anymore. It’s time for him to get serious and settle down. So, no, Jisung hasn’t been to a club in a minute. It was all stressing him out, but he was dressed up and he was already here. He should at least get a drink.

One drink becomes two and two become four. Jiwoo would be pissed. He already feels guilty about keeping how he’s feeling a secret, and now he’s drunk and alone. He can already hear her lecturing him. He laughs to himself, forehead thudding on the surface of the bar. 

Everyone around him looks so carefree as they dance and shove their tongues down each other’s throats. How do they do it? Maybe he should get up and try. The dancing part, of course. Maybe he was drunk. Pushing through the sea of bodies was a blur. He was just determined to get somewhere in the middle. The more he’s completely surrounded, the more immersed he feels in the atmosphere. He gets it now, he sways his body to the music.

The people surrounding him brush against him, sometimes even knocking into him. It only helps him levitate higher. With an extended exhale he floats until he’s hovering in the atmosphere. A body brushes against his front, pulling him back down to Earth. His eyes travel down to an ass against his crotch. Electricity crawls up his legs, prickling at his skin. He doesn’t realize his hands are resting on your waist until the fabric of your short dress rides up.

“At least tell me your name before you take my clothes off.” Your voice is sweet, seductive, it makes his head swim. He yanks his hands away and tries to back up only to bump into someone behind him. His body is propelled back into you, and your behind is back against his groin. He groans, hands gripping your upper arms to keep you at a distance. “What’s wrong babe?” His hands slip from your soft skin as you flip around to face him.

The face put to the seductive voice was a near perfect match. There was a look of intrigue behind your alluring gaze as you examined Jisung. He couldn’t help feeling a hint of danger as you looked him over. The way you hold yourself indicates explicitly how confident you are. As your eyes travel back to his face he nearly flinches from the sharpness of your eyes. Did you think he was pathetic? 

Jisung clears his throat and squares his shoulders. Your smirk and snort make him shrivel up again. You lean in with an earnest look on your face.

“You seem like a sweet guy.” You smile before sauntering elsewhere. Jisung looks down, alarmed by his hand reaching out for you. He physically pulls it back with his other hand. His encounter with you sobers him up immediately and he rushes out of the club. What he should be doing is being there for his girlfriend and being upfront with how he feels.

On the way home he chews on his lip, regarding the bulge in his pants nervously. He takes a shower before even thinking of crawling into bed with Jiwoo. He sighs deeply as he joins her under the covers. It’s warm and comforting, despite how his thoughts prod at him. He should wait until the morning instead of waking her. He extends his arm to hold Jiwoo but hesitates. His mouth falls open slightly as he stares at the back of her head.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“Jisung. Jisung!” His girlfriend’s annoyed voice jolts him awake. She throws a hand through her messy hair that just falls back around her face. He squints as the sun intrudes his eyesight, it was definitely way too early to be awake. He looks up and smiles groggily.

“Good morning.”

“Don’t good morning me, you made a mess!” She gestures agitatedly at the bed. Jisung pauses before ripping the covers away. The moist feeling against his hip and upper thigh becomes more apparent when he sees his soiled boxers and sheets. He looks up at Jiwoo as she makes a frustrated noise. She pulls the fabric of her nightgown, looking nauseated by the semen coating it. The throb Jisung feels in his groin is downright reprehensible. Whenever they have sex, Jiwoo makes him pull out and cum into his hand. The sight of his semen on her makes him aware that not only did he cum in his sleep, but he’s hard again. 

“Don’t just sit there, clean it up!” Jisung scrambles up from the bed, wrapping the comforter around him when he hears the increasing urgency in her voice. Jiwoo was repulsed by bodily fluids. Saliva, semen, sweat, all of it. She gagged once when he accidentally came in her mouth. The incident made both of them swear off blowjobs. Jisung was completely willing after the look on her face. He felt horrible. Yet here he is, getting turned on while she’s freaking out.

“I’m so, so sorry.” He laments as he rips the sheets off the bed. He watches with remorse as she rushes to the bathroom. His uncomfortable hard-on made him wonder what got him all worked up in the first place. He’s had many dreams where Jiwoo was a nymphomaniac and did unspeakable things to him. Even then, he only woke up with a boner, he never came in his sleep.

Dread fills his body as flashes of his dream enter his mind. That residual heat lingered the entire time he was awake, only now is he realizing where it came from. Images of you with your breasts exposed while bouncing on his cock fill his brain. 

“Such a sweet boy.” You moan lewdly.

Jisung shakes the dream away and clenches his eyes shut. It was because he was drunk. That was all. He loves Jiwoo.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You brace yourself as your hand wraps firmly around the doorknob. With a sharp inhale you push the door open and are immediately greeted with your boyfriend still on the couch. He had cleaned up, it was the afternoon after all, and he fixes you with a disappointed scowl. He takes the time to realize that you’re wearing another man’s shirt again.

“What the fuck-”

He rushes over to you and you raise your arms into the air expectantly. He grits his teeth before pulling the souvenir sweatshirt over your torso and head. This time he doesn’t toss it in the garbage, he angrily throws it to the ground. 

“I thought that would piss you off.” You grin, eyes tracking him as he fumes.

“Aren’t you tired?” He asks exasperatedly. A grimace flickers through your smile but you force it back. “Aren’t you?” You quip back, angling your face closer to his. Your heartbeat accelerates when he doesn’t move away.

“You want me to fuck you? Is that why you’re doing all of this?”

You bite your lip, not shying away from his aggression. “So why don’t you fucking ask like a normal person?” He shoves you backward and you hit the door. A moan is pulled from you involuntarily. He growls, unbuckling his belt before shoving his pants down. His hands are rough as he grips you, spinning you around and pushing you into the door. Anticipation rips through you until you’re close to trembling. He makes quick work of hiking your dress up and moving the shamefully thin fabric to the side. 

“This what you want?” He wraps his arm around your chest before shoving his cock inside you. You moan out, still not answering him. He squeezes your jaw hard with his other hand. “Fucking answer me!” His voice is piercing right next to your ear and you jump, pussy clenching around him. You whimper but your resolve stays intact. He grunts as he continues to fuck you in a position that curves your back uncomfortably. 

“You’re not answering because you know you’re a whore.” His voice wavers under the power of his thrusts. “Did you let him cum inside you?”

“You think I’m disgusting don’t you?” You moan. He doesn’t answer, giving you the same treatment you gave him. He instead wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes until your eyes roll back. He doesn’t speak anymore. The living room fills with grunts, heavy breathing, and the sound of his skin impacting yours. 

He shoots his load inside you with jerky thrusts, tightening his hand around your throat until your hearing and sight get cloudy. He lets you breathe before shoving you away. You gasp in air a little too quickly, losing balance from the shove and falling into a coughing fit. Your knees burn from scraping the floor after the impact. As dread starts to spread, you count in your head; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6-

“Stand up.” His voice sounds uncaring but his hands are gentle as he lifts you off the ground. A genuine smile almost creeps through as you clear your throat. “Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up.” You can hear his bite start to wane. 

He took longer than last time but he still did it. He always comes around. 

Despite what he said, he ends up being the one kneeling between your legs while you sit on the toilet. You wince as he wipes between your folds. The cloth is damp and cold. He doesn’t speak the entire time. His jaw is tight and his thick, dark brows are drawn together. “I could do this myself.” You stare down at him before sighing.

“Minho.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you remember that shirt I wore in high school?” Minho’s hand hovers in the air as he hesitates. You puff air through your nose as you smirk. “Because I’ll never forget how you scolded me. You were so nerdy with your glasses.” You giggle.

Minho continues wiping away at your mound. “You came stomping up to me and said “those words are inappropriate for school!” and told me to put on the proper uniform.”

Still nothing. Is he doing it because he knows what his silence does to you or because he genuinely doesn’t want to speak to you? The former is better, you can grapple with spite. But you can see his face softening. He’s reflecting on your fond memories, but he still says nothing.

“You never stopped. You’re still that nerd in the glasses trying to get me to behave and probably always will be.”

Minho finally looks at you. He scowls at you and you brace for him to blow up. But he just drops the rag with a gross splat before leaving the bathroom. You shoot up from the toilet.

“Yeah, I knew you wouldn’t like the sound of that.” You chase after him. “You want to give up don’t you?-” He slams the bathroom door in your face and you listen as his heavy shoes thud away.

Your nostrils burn with each inhale. The air is dry, you said that to him when you bought this apartment together. He didn’t listen to you.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung was dozing off at work. It was his fault for jizzing in his sheets. He guesses Jiwoo could’ve just cleaned herself up and waited for Jisung to wake up to wash the sheets and scrub the mattress. But she didn’t and there’s no point in thinking about what if’s.

Still, he was probably gonna be here for a while. Probably gonna have to work overtime. He already planned to put his right hand to good use in the bathroom, making sure to stay quiet. Jiwoo would surely ask why he didn’t ask to have sex. She doesn’t know he watches porn or the type he watches. She’d probably faint, thinking the man she’d been with for three years was some debauched pervert.

Turns out he didn’t have to work overtime. He takes the extra hours at his disposal to take a walk through the city. He told himself he was just walking around aimlessly, but his feet were walking a specific route. Taking him to a place he should be swearing off. He can see the neon sign in the corner of his eyes, bright green and screaming at him. Walk past, you should be home by now.

He hesitantly peeks at the sign. If he were to walk in right now, would you be there again? Jisung curses under his breath, shaking the thought from his head. He shouldn’t be thinking such a thing right now. 

She was strange anyway, he thought. Calling him a sweet guy from such a brief exchange. What did she know?

Jisung eventually gives up on his walk, ignoring his brain screaming at him to take a peek inside. When he walks through the door Jiwoo is sitting on the couch, frantically nipping at her nails. She shoots up when she sees him.

“There you are.” She breathes, as if she’d been holding it. She bounds toward him and wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest before he can even hang his coat up. “I was worried you’d be working overtime tonight.” She chuckles, failing to disguise how nervous she seems. With his features wound tight, he flicks his sleeve away to look at his watch. It’s 9 pm, she should be in her pajamas already and reading a book in bed.

“You waited for me?” He asks, puzzled. Though, he was more fretful than anything. 

“Yeah, I wanted to apologize.” She slowly pulls away, guilt weighing down her cute mousey features. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” Her eyes flit up at him before she shuts them with a sigh. “Or woken you up.”

Jisung blinks, realizing she probably saw his dark circles. His fretting got stronger the more she spoke and suddenly he found himself in total panic mode. "Y-you don’t have to worry about that! I’m the asshole. I knew very well you don’t like body fluids.”

“You were asleep, Jisung. How could you have known?” She implores. She was right, it’s not like he forced himself to cum. But that part was only a cover for what he was truly guilty about. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be him. Right as he takes a breath, Jiwoo is sighing and stepping away.

“I’m gonna go get ready for bed now. Oh, and–” Jiwoo spins back around and gives Jisung an emphatic look. “You’re not an asshole, Jisung. You’re sweet. The sweetest guy I’ve met.”

After Jiwoo is closed within the bathroom Jisung feels multiple emotions tugging at his stomach. He should tell her. About everything. How he still isn’t used to their different preferences. His browser history. Going to the club. The dream.

He rushes after Jiwoo, pushing the bathroom door open to see her naked body. She squeaks and covers herself up. “J-Jisung? What…”

When he feels himself start to get hard he immediately shuts the door. He could just relieve himself and try again later. But where? She was in the bathroom. She’d be pissed if he came anywhere else. 

He kneels on his bed with uncertainty before collapsing on his face. He definitely shouldn’t do it here, but he still starts jutting into the mattress. The comforter is wiped clean of her scent so his fantasizing was dulled. But he still humps with fervor, finding something inside him egging him on. He clenches the comforter and lets out a squeezed grunt once the shower comes on. 

Jisung has been a no-good boyfriend. Apparently her friends keep banking on her to be the first to get hitched in her friend group. If only they knew what he was thinking about right now. They’d beg her to break up with him, plead her to stop shopping for rings. Maybe one of them would even speak up about the sneaking suspicions they’ve been harboring this entire time.

“I knew he would do something like that. He looks like the type to have wandering eyes.”

He whimpers, hiking a knee higher to really press his groin against the mattress. “He definitely checks out other women, he probably does it shamelessly too.”

It would be Haseul, he can feel it in the way she looks at him. She knows, she can sense that he’s no good. Jisung unbuttons his jeans to let the tip of his cock peek out from under his underwear. It feels so hot and soft against his stomach that he’s able to ignore his concerns about making Jiwoo upset. He even spits into his hand, a thick glob like he fantasizes about, before smoothing it over his cock head. 

He moves to his knees, gripping his shaft with two hands and fucking into them. With puffs of airy moans, he lets his eyes flutter shut and fantasizes about spraying his cum all over the bed. Oh, Jiwoo would get so upset. She’d call him disgusting and probably kick him out. She’d break up with him because of how bad he is.

He’s so close he can feel the heat swirling in his groin but then the shower shuts off and he hurriedly stuffs himself back in his pants. As he zips and buttons himself back up he can feel that euphoria slipping away, leaving him cold and unsatisfied.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You linger outside your door a little longer today. You can hear the tv blaring behind it. Maybe if you come in later than usual you can conjure up some more of his passion. He’s been colder. You’re pushing it.

It was unlike you to be so antsy but the possibility of you getting to him made you open the door. Minho glances up at you, only to look back at the tv like it was nothing.

For the first time in years you felt wary about the shirt you borrowed from your escapades. You stand in the living room, waiting for anything. He could even break up with you and it’d be better than this. Feeling suffocated, you leave to your room. You barely got any sleep at your one night stand’s house. You couldn’t stop thinking about how you’ve entered a new phase. The one where they realize you’re not worth it. That you’re easy with no thrill.

You strip your clothes off and lift your covers, slipping beneath them. You angrily wipe away the tear that slips free as you lay your head on your pillow. This is what you wanted. You were asking for him to stop pretending to care about you. He’s finally done it.

When you wake up it’s dark out. Minho is nowhere to be found. Not in the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, or the spot he’s carved out for himself on the couch. 

You wish you could track him down and force him to face you. What would you do then? You’ve tried pissing him off and pushing him until he has no choice but to blow up at you. What if he doesn’t do that anymore.

Your eyes scan the faces of each mid-height male dancing under the dim lights. They’re desperate to find those pouty lips. That annoyed stare that didn’t change the fact that he resembled a rabbit.

Him being here is past wishful thinking. Him being here means he’s decided to meet you at your level. It took a lot of letting him down to get him to even fuck you the way he does now. The day he becomes a degenerate to understand you is decades ahead, if you two make it that far.

You see a pair of glasses that feel familiar. Thinking of the Minho from when you started dating used to be sweet. But seeing those thick rimmed, square glasses make you sick right now. You clench your fists. Being in this atmosphere this long without a drink feels strange, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way over to the guy with the glasses. You shove at his shoulder, forcing his attention on you. 

Jisung stares at you like a deer in the headlights. He wonders if you somehow know about the naughty dreams he had about you, or that he’s happy to see you for the worst reasons. His thoughts won’t shut up. They indulge in the nasty fantasies while simultaneously telling him he’s a monster because of them. 

Jisung wipes his sweaty palms off on his t-shirt, only then do you recognize him. It’s hard to forget someone who wears a t-shirt to a club. The same person you saw nudging their way onto the dance floor seemingly in a trance. You’re still unclear why someone like him stumbled in here, or why he’s back.

“I-I’m sorry, you probably mistook me for someone else.” Jisung distances himself discreetly with a nervous smile.

“I didn’t.” You flash him the same smile you’re sure scared him off last time. You expected him to chase after you, but when you looked back, he was rushing out of the club. You should stay away from people like him. He’s practically trembling. Your eyes drag slowly up and down his frame. “You’re a sweet boy, you shouldn’t get involved with someone like me.” You say as if he told you he was interested. You’re being insanely presumptuous, but you have your reasons.

“I would never. I have… I have a girlfriend.” Jisung announces proudly. At that moment, the both of you come to an understanding. He got a boner when you guys danced together and now he’s unabashedly staring at your cleavage.

And Jisung? He’s aware of how obvious he’s being. The lust is as pleasing as it is painful. He’s drunk on it, eating up the black, strapless bustier hoisting up your tits and miniskirt tempting him to imagine your panties. His current behavior isn’t very sweet of him, you both think.

And it’s exciting all the same.

The lights bathe both of you in shifting hues as you swirl your hips against his groin. Your hand reaches to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his breath ghosts on your neck. Time is stuck in slow motion as you both relish in the teasing. It’s exhilarating, sending shockwaves through both your veins. 

Jisung’s breath labors more and more the further he gets into his fantasy. He’s already decided that your panties are red and lacy. The straps are thin and sit high on your hips. You have on a matching strapless bra and the cups cut so low that your nipples accidentally pop out when he yanks your top down. His burlish hands grope harshly at them while he bites your neck.

Your filthy moan makes his eyes snap open. His lips are actually on your neck and his hands have moved up from your hips to your breasts. Thankfully he didn’t expose you to the rest of the club, but that’s the least of his concerns. This is it. He can’t go back now. His erection is pressed firmly against you, riding up your skirt, and his hands are squeezing your tits. Jiwoo would be absolutely devastated. Fuck, fuck, fuck, desperation pleads and claws at him. Crippling shame and guilt wrack throughout his body.

This time a filthy noise leaves his mouth as his hips jerk against you. His cock is throbbing and his head is swirling with need. The fantasy has escalated. You’re gagged and bound, writhing underneath him. He grabs a handful of your pussy. He’s ripped from his fantasy once again once he feels lace on his fingers. Your face turns against his, your mouth grazing his cheek as you buck uncontrollably in his grip. Jisung grunts and presses you hard against him. Hot seed spurts up from his tip, soiling his underwear.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung rushes home and slams the door behind him. He rests against it, steadying himself. His heart feels like it’ll give out. He can’t stop replaying what happened. It makes his knees weak and triggers a deep ache in his pants. It feels so fucking good to think about. It feels so incredibly bad to think about. Jisung collapses to his knees with an anguished sob. 

“I’m so sorry.” He sputters out.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Your routine was interrupted. You return later that same night to see Minho asleep on the couch. You wonder if he’d feel relieved if he saw you returning home early. 

He shouldn’t.

You’re still thinking about him. You don’t know his name and you’ve never seen anything but an imprint of his dick, but he’s running through your mind. You want fuck him bad. Bad enough that you’re touching yourself in bed. You let out a whine when the memory gets to the part where he runs away. He ran away from you again.

Now you know it’s because of guilt rather than being intimidated. There’s a chance you'll never see him again. It makes you more upset than you care to admit. You know what it feels like when you like someone. You avoid them like the plague and feel like throwing up at the thought of them. They make you imagine a bright future way too early. This is not that, but it’s not like your other one night stands either.

Thinking of him makes you think about the state of you and Minho. You sprawl out in your empty bed after climaxing. The cool parts of the sheets sizzle against your hot skin. You stare blankly out the window, hoping sleep will take pity on you and save you from your thoughts.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You sit at the edge of your bed for what feels like hours. Today you wish you could get to The Eve early. You’re disgusted with yourself. You want to plan your outfit and pick out something extra special. What the fuck is wrong with you. The door opening almost breaks you free from being locked in place. 

“Were you here all night?” 

You look up at Minho, who’s taken aback by the fear in your eyes.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” His concern is strong enough to show on his face, but not to come further into the room. You bite your lip and focus back on nothing. 

“Why are you worried about me?” You ask in disappointment. It’s easy to understand why someone on the outside would think it was disappointment in him. It wasn't. 

He leaves after that. Either he asked himself that question and came to his senses, or–

You sigh, shakily standing from the bed. It doesn’t matter.

Later that night, Minho is gone again. Not there to see you dressed up with more intent than usual.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“What have you been up to lately?”

The question was like a metal pipe crashing into Jisung’s skull. He whips his head around to gape at her. The fear in his eyes catches Jiwoo off guard but she laughs it off.

“I’ve been washing more of your favorite t-shirts lately. I thought you only saved those for special occasions?” She wiggles her eyebrows at him. She’s being cheeky, but the bile climbing up Jisung’s throat doesn’t care about that. He should tell her now before it gets worse. She’s such a wonderful woman that she’d probably forgive him. She’s so perfect, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Jisung’s cock twitches.

“I’m just trying to do more things that make me happy.” The words fly out of him, not a stutter, wobble, or voice crack in sight.

“D’aw,” Jiwoo pouts, touched as she sets down the dish she was drying to come sit next to him. She wraps her arm around his shoulder and pulls him in before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I’m really happy to hear that!” Her smile slowly fades as worry takes over. “You know, I was worried that you seemed really down lately. I was thinking of canceling on the girls next month…”

“No!” A strange authoritative tone crops up. Jisung gives Jiwoo a firm look. “You’ve been excited about this trip for so long! You should absolutely go. The only reason I may have been down lately is because I’ve been feeling a little suffocated. I decided to try new things around town and it’s been helping.” Jisung turns his body toward her, grabbing both her hands. “Don’t you worry about me, okay?” One could say ‘trying new things around town’ wasn’t a complete lie, but it still worries him that he’s lying to his future wife so easily.  

“Okay… but if you need me to cancel-” Jiwoo attempts to rush out, but Jisung hits her with an even firmer look. 

“Go.” He says simply. With that, Jiwoo is back to beaming. She throws her arms around him and gives him a tight squeeze. Over her shoulder, Jisung’s smile fades.

Later that night, Jisung plants his dirty lips on a sleeping Jiwoo’s cheek before leaving.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung is anxious as he searches through the club. He doesn’t see you anywhere at the edges of the club. The last place to look is in the middle. Jisung pushes his way through, feeling his body buzz the further in he gets.

In the middle he spots a woman with a low waisted, flowy skirt and bandeau top. When you twirl around, the skirt’s front is revealed to be asymmetrical, almost tattered in appearance with its two high slits. You move closer to him, the hunger in your eyes matching his. You breathe hotly and grab his face. All the pent up passion built up overnight culminates in a sloppy kiss. A kiss that you can barely call a kiss with your tongues laving at each other’s mouths and chins.

Another boundary has been broken. Jisung grunts, grabbing you by the throat and yanking you away from him. The shock in your eyes would give him pause before the kiss. Right now, Jisung’s lust has taken over. You might slap him or tell him off now, and he’ll respect your wishes. But you don’t do anything, other than flashing pleading eyes at him. His nostrils flare as his breathing gets heavier. He leans in and draws your bottom lip back with his teeth. After he releases it he’s leaning by your ear. 

“Open your fucking mouth.” He growls. 

Your mouth lolls open, your eyes begging even more. Jisung spits into your mouth, some of the saliva landing on your chin. You close your mouth, putting on a show of cleaning up your mess with your tongue. Jisung balls the back of your skirt within his fist and pulls you closer. Your tongues are exploring each other’s mouths as Jisung reaches under the front of your skirt. He gasps against your lips when his fingers dip straight into your wet heat. You chuckle before licking a stripe up his cheek. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t short, but the slits in the front are high enough that one bold dance move could show the entire club your cunt. 

Jisung nearly whimpers, steeling himself before plunging two fingers in immediately. You moan loudly, the loud music drowning it out. Jisung keeps you pressed close enough that only someone paying close attention could see you getting your hole fingered. Your head lulls, resting against his chest as you shut your thighs around his hand. Jisung lets go of your skirt to tug at your hair. He yanks your head back. 

“Open them back up. Now.” He spits next to your ear.

You bitch and whine, but you still do it. An intense heat overwhelms his cock. He should fuck you right now. He should tear your skirt off and use the tattered fabric to bind your wrists together while he fucks you right in the middle of all these people. The club goers bump into both of you at all sides. One stumbles backward, propelling you forward and plunging Jisung deeper. Jisung licks his tongue into your open mouth. 

Your tongues tangle together while a droplet of your juices trails down Jisung’s forearm. 

“I’m gonna cum! Choke me!” You plead pathetically. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to oblige, squeezing until your eyes roll back. Jisung finds himself mimicking your pained expression as your cunt spasms around his fingers. He grinds pitifully into nothing, reverting back to his fantasy. Your bandeau is made into a makeshift gag as he fucks you so hard your tits spasm in different directions. Your entire body jiggles from the force. 

The feeling of your hand cupped around his bulge lights up his synapses. He groans, it’s guttural as sperm shoots into his underwear for the second night in a row.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung watches Jiwoo carefully, who just thanked him for doing laundry more often. Things are better than before, the two of them are more affectionate. She even has sex with him a little more. He doesn’t cum, which she was initially concerned about. He reminded her that this was ideal in their situation, and she felt better instantly.

Jisung realized long ago that missionary did nothing for him. He started to fantasize about you during it, but decided that was somehow crossing the line. Not the countless times now you’ve made him cum in his pants. Not the fact that you and Jisung have your hands down each other’s pants every night now. Not the fact that he now knows a list of what turns you on and has it memorized.

Jiwoo leaves tomorrow.

That fact replays in his mind as he watches Jiwoo maneuver around the kitchen. She catches him staring and smiles. He smiles back. 

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You chuck the bag over the high rim of the dumpster. You feel lighter, and it’s not just because you’re no longer lugging a heavy trash bag of large t-shirts, sweatshirts, and hoodies. 

When you walk back in the house Minho is familiarly pushing you back against the door. His eyes are wild, and you can’t recall a time he’s looked this crazed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He grits before grinding his jaw. He’s fuming. That in itself scares you a bit, but it’s also that he’s been getting more and more antsy for the past month. 

“I-I don’t…”

“Bullshit.” He spits, making you flinch. He releases his tight grip on your shoulders, sharp eyes still trained on you. “You’re fucking disgusting.” His voice cracks a little. 

You’re not scared he’ll do something to you. Well, not anything abusive anyway. You’re scared because he knows you’re up to no good. You don’t know if he’s narrowed it down exactly, but you know he’s onto you. 

Seeing Jisung is the highlight of your day. Your body ignites in goosebumps as soon as you see him. Something about him, the horrible thing he’s doing, makes you feel even better about yourself than all the years Minho dedicated to fixing you. 

“Fuck you.” He spits before retreating into the bedroom. He’s been spending so much time in there that you took his place on the couch. You sleep there in your day clothes, crying yourself to sleep. 

When you see Jisung that night, you’re more exhausted than usual. He pulls your hair like he usually does, smashing his lips against yours. You don’t love it as much as you usually do. You just want to climb into bed with Minho and hold him. A part of you knows he even wants you to. But you can’t. You don’t deserve it. So you cry as you kiss someone else’s boyfriend.

He laps up the tears and you’re slowly soothed. You’re not sure to what extent, but you’ve come to understand that Jisung is a monster. He frequently brings up how wrong it is that he’s treating his girlfriend like this. His cock throbs when he talks about how he knows she’s planning to propose. He cums after imagining her face if she saw the two of you. 

“So, do you want to come over tomorrow?” He asks with a twinkle in his eye. You were both stood outside of the club. The same day he described in detail his fantasy of his girlfriend forgetting something and coming back only to see her boyfriend balls deep in you, he revealed that she actually is going away. And now he’s making another part of that fantasy a reality. You take a long drag of your cigarette, mascara smudged all around your eyes. You blow, realizing you’re not the least bit repulsed. You feel good.

“Yeah.”

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You linger outside of the bedroom door, hand repeatedly reaching for the knob but deciding against it. Your eyes flutter shut, remembering how warm his embrace used to be. 

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

When Jisung opens the door, something feels off. Maybe it’s the lack of loud music and dancing bodies bumping into the both of you, but the hunger isn’t there yet. 

You shuffle inside, annoyed when he whistles and rocks on his feet. 

“D’you want something to drink?” He says, not meeting your eyes. 

“No. Is that the bedroom?”

“Yeah…” He hesitates before he answers and swallows hard after. “Yeah, let’s uh… let’s head inside.” Jisung offers to hang your purse up on the hook by the door, right next to a wooden bat. You do it yourself.

The bedroom is pleasantly designed, it’s clean and organized, and there’s a picture of Jisung and his girlfriend on the nightstand. A part of you was scared he was lying about it, this cements it. He hurries over to lay it down after seeing you stare at it. 

“So um, I have a few things in mind, but we could of course do whatever you want to do.”

So far this is a complete let down. You’ve confirmed that he’s an actual monster, but now you’re not so sure about his dominance. Was it just a fluke while you were at the club? You didn’t come here to be asked how you want be fucked. You sigh, considering going home and crying yourself to sleep again. While looking at the floor you see two feet plant themselves in front of you. 

When you look up at Jisung, you don’t intend for your eyes to be as glassy and pitiful as they are. It’s Jisung’s turn to sigh. 

“You’re just hopeless, aren’t you?” Jisung runs his knuckles down your cheek. The gesture confuses you, but then you notice his eyes. Before you can get excited, his hand is wrapped around your throat. Your eyes flutter shut. “Gonna make me do all the work? Hm? Can’t even fucking talk?”

You’re too busy relishing in the wave of relief crashing over you to realize you’re being disobedient. A slap across your face brings you back to reality. 

“Fucking. Speak.” He demands lowly. 

“N-no, I won’t make you do all the work–”

“Then get your ass on the bed. Hike it in the air.” 

You rush over, kneeling on the bed and pulling your dress off. Jisung comes over and yanks it the rest of the way, impatiently. He grabs your head and shoves it into the mattress before grabbing the rope from the nightstand. He told Jiwoo he wanted to learn sailor knots when she found it. He wasn’t completely lying, which is why he was able to demonstrate some for her.

Even a simple one was enough to convince her, that same knot is enough to restrain you and fulfill one of his biggest fantasies. Jisung unbuckles his belt not only to relieve some of the building pressure, but also to bend it in half. He raises the belt before swinging it down. The leather laps painfully against your ass. Your body jolts and you gasp. The sting doesn’t go away before the next lash. Another and another, Jisung is completely relentless. He stops only to haphazardly free his bottom half. 

You feel the bed dip again behind you, whimpering like a puppy. Then you feel his hard cock against your ass. You chant pleas under your breath, cunt clenching desperately to feel him inside.

“Don’t know how to shut up, huh? That’s okay,” Jisung leans over, grabbing the ball gag from on top of his nightstand. One of the many things he picked up this morning in preparation. He fastens it securely around your head, pulling the ball further into your mouth until you can’t coherently beg anymore. 

“If I were you I would stop that begging. It’ll only take longer for me to fuck you, okay?” Jisung’s voice was laced with sympathy undercut by a sinister undertone. You nod against the bed, trying to quiet your whimpering. 

You yelp as the belt lashes against you again. 

“What the fuck did I say?” He warns in a growl. You panic, silencing yourself immediately.

Swing after swing after swing after swing. Jisung punishes your ass until it’s red hot and tears have thoroughly soaked your cheeks. You gargle softly against the gag. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

You pant excitedly as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer. 

“If I do this for you, give you what you want, you have to keep it up. No noises while I fuck you open.”

You nod frantically, trembling from the sheer anticipation. His tip prods against your entrance. You knew he’d be the biggest you ever had from the times you jerked him off, but feeling him attempt to push into your hole made your eyes blow wide. You panic again, worried you’re not going to stay quiet. 

Then he shoves his way in. Luckily the force makes you choke on your scream. Your legs shake, fists balling tight. You’re pleased when you hear Jisung’s euphoric moan. He stays submerged inside you, but he’s moaning uncontrollably. 

“F-fuck, I can see your asshole fluttering, baby girl.” Jisung sounds like he might cry. He slaps your ass, this time with his own hand, testing your silence. With that, he starts moving. The pace is already brutal. His rhythmic, chesty moans show just how much this is getting to him. Does his girlfriend fuck him at all? Whatever. She doesn’t deserve this anyway. This is all for you. 

Your feet jerk up from the bed with each punishing thrust. It’s like he can’t help himself, he has to go balls deep every time. Each thrust with your cunt stroking him pulls a different string of moans. You’ve never heard him so vocal, and it’s never been so hard to shut up. He’s milking your pussy so good it’s making you cry. Silent sobs squeeze from your body as his body drapes over yours. He grabs your throat, making it even worse. Your sobs become audible, but he doesn’t even care. You’re both too far gone to care about how loud you’re both being.

His bottom lip drags from your shoulder up to the apex of your neck. He’s croaking out moans right next to your ear and you know he’s gone. You tug at your restraints, wishing you could touch and claw him right now. 

His seed is hot as it spurts into you. The sensation sends your body down, flat to the bed. His hips follow, continuing to buck into you as your orgasm rockets through you. You essence squelches around him until it forces him out, continuing to spray and soil the both of you.

The two of you lie there with loud, hoarse pants for what feels like hours. You expect to turn and see the sun rising. It doesn’t matter because it’s sunny inside your body. The minute Jisung unties you, you’re reaching to hold him close. Your hands travel down his back and over his shoulders like you’d been craving. Somehow the come down is still so euphoric. You both buzz long after you’ve cum.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

It was two years ago that Minho put a code on his phone. He doesn’t use it for anything but checking emails and making calls, so he didn’t worry about most of the traditional phone activities. You never understood why putting a code on his phone was included in that, and you warned him multiple times that he would get his phone stolen. You knew that a code wouldn’t keep someone from getting in if they really wanted to, but you weren’t saying it to help him out. Besides, he’d just shrug anyway. 

So you went through his phone. 

You guys had a fight, back when they used to be coherent, and then he put a lock on his phone. All that to say, you couldn’t have prepared for Minho’s spotty appearances lately if you wanted to. You were serious about tracking him. The unknown was sure to kill you. Death was the only thing that could come from pain like this. You didn’t actually do it this time, did you?

Was he at someone’s house? Someone who’s been begging him to ditch you and enter a healthier relationship? Who could it be? He doesn’t go to church, his family either lives far away or are constantly going on trips, his friends have essentially rage quit their friendship… who else does that leave?

You wish that meant there was no other way he could’ve connected with someone, but it’s not true. He’s handsome and a great guy. There’s no way no one has approached him in all these years.

Your vision has long blurred, the show on the television becoming blobs of color. You haven’t showered since you’ve been with Jisung. You feel gross but have no desire to move. Whenever you hurt him, it’s intentional. Sometimes you even spend the night alone at a hotel and buy a shirt from the men’s section the next morning, pulling it onto your frame right before you get to the door. Right now, it’s completely subconscious. You’re going to Jisung’s in an hour and it’s the only thing that makes you feel like anything other than death. The warm feeling you get at the idea of being with Jisung doesn’t come from wanting a reaction out of Minho. That brings a dark, gnarling fear out of the depths of your soul.

You don’t like Jisung. You love Minho. That much is apparent when you see Jisung. He doesn’t give you butterflies. You just feel comfort in the way he can still fuck you with traces of his girlfriend everywhere.

Jisung freezes mid-greeting to look at your old clothes. You’re definitely different from your encounters at the club. He noticed you go from dominant and intimidating to submissive very gradually. It hit its peak when you had your arms crossed in his bedroom yesterday, refusing to initiate anything. He chuckles at you which earns him a scowl. He tugs you inside and kicks the door closed, leading you all the way to the shower. He’s back to taking complete control, pulling your dirty clothes off one by one. 

He steps behind you once his clothes are off, smoothing his hands over your now moistened skin. The hot water aids in raising the temperature between the two of you. Jisung finally feels you relax against him. He moves his hand down between your legs. He parts your thighs, letting the water trickle over your mound. His cock gets hard fast when he’s with you. You feel his shaft rest rigidly in between your cheeks as he lathers soap all over your body.

To your disappointment, he doesn’t fuck you in the shower. He simply rubs your body everywhere but where you need him. He steps out the minute all the suds have been rinsed off your skin. He tepidly dries himself off, tossing the towel over his shoulder. You watch him clean his glasses before putting them back on, only for them to fog right back up. He looks over at you questioningly. 

For a moment, with his eyes obscured, you can transplant the image of a younger Minho onto him. Your mind starts to wander to an alternate reality where Minho knew you were a lost cause right off the bat. How different would your dynamic be? Would there be one at all?

“You should’ve been on the bed by now. Hurry up and dry off.” Jisung’s voice and expression ooze with disappointment that makes your core hum. You dumbly turn off the water while keeping your eyes trained on his naked figure. This is your first time seeing him completely bare. You almost saw it yesterday, as he took a shower right after you chickened out of staying any longer.

When you climb onto the bed you hike your ass in the air again. His hand thundering down on your ass makes you jolt. “Not today.” He grunts as he lies down on his back. He rests his hands behind his head. 

“You were a fucking brat yesterday. Immediately putting me to work and then not staying quiet. Did you think I missed that at the end?” Jisung raises his eyebrows, scolding you both with his words and his eyes. You wish you could put the Jisung you first met and this one side by side. He is totally relaxed while easily maintaining control.

“Straddle me, and hold your arms together behind your back. You’re putting in work today.”

You bit your lip to stifle the whine threatening to get you punished. This is a pillow princess’ worst nightmare. Your eyes unwittingly move to his cock which is so hard gravity is failing to lay it flat on his stomach. Your fleeting thought to disobey just to get more effort and attention from him disappears. 

So you clasp both your wrists and slip onto his cock. You didn’t realize how wet you were until his head slid past your entrance. His cock feels so hot and so does his skin when your calves graze his thighs. It’s electrifying yet inviting. You get the urge to lean against his chest but he’d probably pull out, and that would annoy you enough to make you cry. 

And so you bounce, letting him see the front of you fully nude in all its glory. How your tits bounce and hips swing. He grabs your hips but not to guide you, to dig his fingers into flesh. 

This, you figure, is one of his favorite positions. You figure because it’s the first time he’s cum twice for you. That, and it’s the only position he repeated. For the next two weeks, he has bounced you on his cock while standing up with your legs tightly secured around him, had you flat on your back with your legs in the air on his dining room table, had you halfway off the couch while straddling him again, and so on. He always shows you a picture or a video once you get to the area of his choice. His calm dominance melts away just for a moment as he excitedly presents it to you. Him baring his deep passion to fuck you strangely doesn’t push you away. You find yourself squeezing your thighs, wide eyes matching his as he shows you the position.

The two of you have gone from barely speaking outside of sex to making out as soon as he opens the door. You both giggle like schoolkids in anticipation. You both joke through a blur of lips and teeth.

But that excitement and glee fades as soon as you’re back in your dreary apartment. The escalation of childlike joy when you’re at Jisung’s directly translates to escalated sorrow when you’re back at yours. 

You only catch glimpses of the back of Minho these days, either retreating to the bedroom or out of the apartment. You have the urge to sleep over Jisung’s for the rest of the time Jiwoo is gone. That somehow feels like crossing a line that’s comically insignificant at this point. You know Jisung would understand what you mean. That night you took a shower at his place, he washed your clothes for you.

“You could stay until they’re done.” Jisung suggests after some tense silence.

“No, I should go.” You shoot it down immediately. The option has always been unspoken but ever present. To stay a little longer, watch a movie, drink some water, maybe actually cuddle. Not like what you did the first night, where you ran out of there as soon as you realized you were caressing someone else.

“In what clothes?” Jisung chuckles. You glare at him again. You hate when he does that. Well, you did, until you realized you’re both horrible enough to have fun while being unfaithful. 

“Can’t I just borrow some of hers? I’ll wash those and-”

“No.”

Just then, the Jisung from the first time you met him was back. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, but you could see the raging conflict behind them. So you left with some of his clothes instead.

You told him you were in a relationship, but not much else about it. Since then there was a mutual understanding of each other. It made your tension trickle away wrapped in his arms. You were able to at least disassociate so the depth of the pain became less apparent.

Then Jiwoo would call.

Jisung was sickeningly sweet over the phone. You laughed to yourself while listening to his overexaggerated joy when speaking with her. The humor rotted away when catching glimpses of her voice. She's elated to speak with her boyfriend. She can't sleep without him. There's no way they're not getting married soon.

In the corner of his bedroom the space grows vast, Jisung suddenly on the other side of a treacherous fissure.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You enter the apartment as soon as Minho leaves his room. He stares at you, clearly shocked. He probably expected to be gone before you came home, so you wouldn’t see him dressed up with his hair styled and your favorite cologne on. It’s been a long two weeks, so the stinging in your eyes turns into tears fast. He pushes past you and leaves the apartment, leaving you to collapse to the ground. The pain is immediate because the denial has shriveled up. You’re being forced to accept that it’s happening. Anger swiftly takes hold as you’re reminded of one hard to swallow truth. 

You stand up and grab the lamp beside the entrance. You shove it to the ground, the delicate glass covering shattering before the bulb does the same. You send the potted plant into the tv, throw a stack of plates onto the floor. Once your energy is spent, the fact is still there.

You have no right to be upset.

You throw a tantrum and break things because you made your own bed, but you have no right to do that either.

You deserve this.

You deserve him bringing a new girl home and fucking her loudly in the bed you used to share. You deserve him coming home every day and telling you what a worthless piece of shit you are. You deserve him introducing you to the girlfriend he’s been hiding from you and shoving his tongue down her throat right in front of you.

You deserve him giving up on you and admitting you were never fixable to begin with.

Your stomach caves from the sheer force of your sobs. Your body contorts, tangling within your bed sheets and kicking the cover off. You force yourself to imagine all these things he deserves to do to you even though it feels like it’s setting you on fire. You cry and cry until your body feels hollow and you stare numbly at the wall.

The sun rises.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Your ears pick up each sound but it’s muffled. The sound of the door opening. The sound of his boots crunching against glass. The sound of him crying. The sound of him leaving. 

The sun sets. It’s time to see Jisung. 

Your body wobbles as you sit up. Your body feels like a ton of bricks. You rush to the bathroom, finally emptying your bladder. You’re going to his house with the same clothes from the day prior again.

He opens the door, chuckling just like the last time you did this. “No work today?”

You’re not in a laughing mood, though. You thought things would be like they had been. You’d be depressed while you were home and cheerful at Jisung’s place. But no, the tears break free and stream down your face. Jisung pulls you into the house, asks if you’re okay. He shouldn’t. People like you don’t deserve sympathy. You grit your teeth, grabbing his jaw and pulling him forward. He stiffly places his hands on your waist, hesitantly accepting the kiss.

You cup his cock, making him moan and grant your tongue entrance to his mouth. You push him toward the couch until he flops down onto it, looking at you in bewilderment. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asks just before you devour him again. You guide his hands to your breasts, whimpering when he pinches your nipples. 

“Fuck me.” You plead, voice weak and eyes glassy. Your eyes don’t plead him like they usually do. You’re deeply hurt, your lip trembling and shattering his heart. 

“Babe c’mon, let’s stop–” Jisung reaches up to caress your face, laughing awkwardly.

“Don’t call me that.” Your tone is venomous as you swat his hands away. Jisung is taken aback. Not because of your tone, but because he hadn’t realized he called you that.

Exasperated, you huff and reach for his dick. Once it’s free, you’re awkwardly shimmying off Jisung’s basketball shorts. Jisung is finding it difficult to find the words he’s looking for. It’s too late anyway, you’re sinking down onto his cock. Sex with you is like a defibrillator. It jolts life back into him, no matter how much the guilt is getting to him. It lets him set aside his worries for now to just focus on how wet and tight you are around him. The constant access to you is dizzying. Just when he’s coming down from his high, you’re back with another dose.

Without Jisung’s strict rules or constant orders you’re able to think. It’s horrible.

“Fucking choke me– ngh! Yell at me!” You grit out.

With this Jisung is back to reality with you. He stammers, your eyes and your words conflict each other.  He considers it, playing along while his heart’s not in it. The sex is going to be subpar today clearly, so it doesn’t matter what he does next.

“Jiwoo called me earlier today.”

You’re chugging along, hoping this transitions to him hissing demands at you. 

“Well, she calls me every day. I used to think it was because she was worried about me. I thought that was the same reason she hugged me so long before she left,” Jisung’s voice is conversational despite the strain your cunt squeezing him is giving it. His eyes are fussing with a conflict again. You stop, in exasperated shock that he’s opening up about this right now.

“She even gave me this look before she went out the door. So I kept telling her every time she called that I was okay and that she should have fun. That she didn’t have to call me every day. But today…” Jisung feels his heart clench as he recalls her words.

“Things are going really great recently, aren’t they?” She laughed, it sounded so sweet. Jisung could hear the commotion of activities more fun than being on the phone in the background. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I think about you so much that it's hard to have fun while I’m here. I miss you so, so much… and I realize now that I don’t like being without you.” She laughed again, but this time Jisung could tell she was crying. “I kinda wanna come home?” 

She was asking him.

“W-what did you say?” You swallow hard, trying to hide the horror in your eyes. Would he really tell her to come home? Is she about to walk through the door and fulfill his fantasy? Your stomach drops as you glance over your shoulder.

“I said no.” Jisung says quietly. You turn back to see his bitter smile. “I stayed on the phone with her for hours to soothe her and convince her to stay.” Jisung huffs, attempting to blink away his tears and failing. His head droops, hiding from you. He hiccups, “She was so happy with me after I did that. She-”

You cradle his face, slowly lifting it to face you. Jisung looks upset at this, shoulders bouncing as he begins to cry harder. You try to wipe away his tears with your thumbs, shaking your head when they quickly get replaced.

“It’s better this way.” You say weakly. 

“What?” The frustration leaks through Jisung’s anguish. He tries to shake away your hands but you grab him more securely and force him to look in your eyes.

“You don’t want her to know how awful you truly are.” 

Seeing the pain intensify in your eyes, Jisung stills. Knowing he understands now, your hands drop from his face. Suddenly, you feel more alone than you have in weeks. You start to get up but Jisung’s hands caress your face now. A tear hangs on your eyelash as you gaze wearily at him. You wish he’d just let you go. At least rotting in your bed, you’d be faced with one facet of pain. Staying here with him is like watching the last bit of color drain from the world.

He's not sure exactly what happens when you walk out that door. What he does know is you come back weaker than before. He sees the dread in your eyes at going back.

“Stay here.”

“No–”

“Stay.”

You stare at him, wondering if he’s just saying this because you’re the only one he can engage in this kink with. Then he kisses you. He inhales deeply as he threads his fingers through your hair. He captures your lips, detaches to breathe and captures them again. The lack of tongue or teeth feels foreign. You can’t remember the last time Minho kissed you like this. It’s only been drunk and sloppy, rough out of anger, or awkward in pursuit of keeping your trash-fire relationship a secret. 

The only thing close to Jisung’s trembling lips against yours was when Minho first found out you fucked someone else. He pleaded with you to tell him it didn’t mean anything, to tell him that you still loved him. His lips then were frantic, refusing to let you slip away with his hands caging you in. If only you did slip away back then. His life would be better now.

But Jisung is steady. The underlying shame and regret don’t dull the passion flowing from his lips. His hands feel like they're caging you. Begging you to just stay.

Another boundary has been crossed. The final one. There was no redemption to be desperately dug up to salvage your souls as you kiss each other like the world might tip off its axis if you stop. The two of you only break apart to moan as you ride him. Your hips grind against his lap, his dick as far in as it can go. You moan into each other’s mouth as Jisung’s climax brings you closer to yours.

And yours comes and goes. Your freshly showered bodies lay as close as you can get in his bed, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You jolt awake multiple times during the night, jolting Jisung awake with you. He just soothes you back to sleep, not asking about your nightmares detailing each scenario you forced yourself to imagine two nights ago.

Jisung leaves early in the morning, whispering to you to lock the door if you leave.

“You can stay, though.”

To your horror, Jisung kisses your cheek. Him falling for you hadn’t crossed your mind. He had always been so sex focused that romance seemed like a distant afterthought. He could have rubbed circles into your back each time you awoke because he was being nice. Your rationalizing is cut short as an even more horrifying thought rears its ugly head.

You wished he had kissed you on the lips.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Judging by the mess you left behind, Minho must think you’re on a rage fueled bender right now. He never did check if you were in the room that morning, so maybe he thinks you trashed the apartment, left, and never came back. You know for a fact he’s worried. Very little could stop Minho from worrying about your safety. That’s why even someone like you never played that card to get his attention, and why you’re worried sick. You pace around Jisung’s apartment. Your phone is still at the apartment, shattered from your temper tantrum. He would probably report the incident to the police before he contacted you, but the sight of your phone broken on the floor with you nowhere to be found doesn’t encourage confidence.

The thing is, you can’t go back and face him. Walking in, completely unharmed and freshly showered, with some other man’s clothes on and guilt evident on your face would just cement it for him. All you would do at that point is apologize, and what’s left of his soul would shatter right in front of you. You clamp your hand over your mouth, unable to bear the image of Minho realizing there’s actually someone else. You’re horrible to him, but the only thing he could be sure of is that you only love him. You imagine it’s the only thing keeping him around.

Minho putting together that all these years of pain and suffering and praying you’ll change has culminated in someone else getting the appreciation he deserves could change him forever.

So you lower your hand from the door knob.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

That night with Jisung was different. You were both so overwrought with guilt that you spent the evening taking turns soothing each other. When you finally had sex, it was more tender than it ever should be. He was hovering over you, looking straight into your eyes and he smoothed his hand over your hair. He peppered soft kisses all over your face. You loved every second of it. You showered together again and cuddled in bed. 

“Minho? Is that his name?” The sound of his name makes you flinch. You move away from Jisung who looks at you in confusion. 

“Don’t say his name!” You shout, stumbling out of bed. He blinks at you as you start to gather your clothes. He follows after you, stammering an apology. 

“Y-you said his name in your sleep yesterday. I’m sorry– I–”

“Just stop!” You’re more panicked than angry, which comes through in your voice. Your voice is loud, so it could be heard through the door. Pounding against the door makes you gasp, you stumble backwards. Jisung catches you, pulling you close.

“Who’s there!” Jisung shouts.

“Open the door!” Minho shrieks, his throat sounds like it’s tearing from the sheer force. Jisung grabs the bat, readying it before swinging the door open. Before he can even threaten him, Minho is pushing past him, eyes frantic as they search for you. When he finds you, you see it. You’re clean, unharmed, wearing nothing but Jisung’s shirt as you hug your body. 

He’s putting the pieces together.

Your mouth feels dry, your tongue feels like it’s swelling. The way Minho’s shoulders slouch makes your chest ache. He shakes his head at you in disbelief. 

“Your purse.” He gestures weakly at the bag sitting on the couch from when you entertained the idea of going home. “The tag is connected to my phone because I knew you’d do this.” Despite being so quiet, his words slash you open. 

“Minho…” Your trembling hands cover your mouth. This is it. This is it.

“Minho I didn’t mean to scare you I swear–”

“You can have the apartment.” The words fight their way from Minho’s mouth, but he’s not able to look at you. 

“Minho?” You try pitifully. Minho just drops his head, lingering for just one more moment before leaving. Jisung is quick to hold you, caress the back of your neck as if to cushion the incoming sobs. But they don’t come. 

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“For some ungodly reason, he’s going to keep paying your lease.” You gape at the woman. She doesn’t introduce herself, but you know it’s her. The one he wore your favorite cologne for. 

“He told me not to but fuck it– don’t contact him.” She shoves a finger into your face. “Don’t go looking for him, don’t make this any worse than you already have for the past twelve years.” She pauses, waiting for your reaction, seemingly expecting you to explode on her. You nod, finally closing your mouth that had been hung open this entire time. 

“Okay.”

She looks confused before she shakes her head and walks off of Jisung’s porch. 

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung comes home with Chinese takeout. 

“I’m going to set it on the table.” He says breathlessly as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat hanger that his girlfriend undoubtedly picked out. She’ll be back in five days. He’ll erase any signs of you and go back to normal. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

“What the fuck are we doing?” You say before you can stop yourself. It’s quiet for a moment, and you refuse to turn around and see his face. 

“What?”

“Why would I sit at that table and eat with you?” You stand up, finally turning around once the emotions stirring inside you are potent enough. You interrupt him before he can answer.

“Your loving girlfriend is going to come home soon.”

“That doesn’t change anything. I mean, we can still meet at your place–”

“She’s going to propose to you, Jisung.” He freezes for a moment, but you can tell by his face that he still doesn’t get it. 

“Do you seriously think she’ll never be suspicious? That she won’t wake up one night and realize you’re not there? Then she’ll pretend she’s asleep and hear you walk out. Then she’ll be more aware of the clues. You smell like perfume that’s not hers, there was a small amount of lipstick smudged on your collar, you’re sexually satisfied all of a sudden,”

Jisung swallows, “Then we’ll be careful.”

“Are you seriously willing to risk your relationship?” You ask, a nasty hint of amusement in the way you raise one brow at him. He closes his mouth.

You laugh loudly, the laughter spiraling out of control before you finally catch your breath.

“I fucking knew it.” Your expression sours, settling into a bitter one as you yank your purse off the hook.

“Don’t leave…”

“I don’t give a fuck about you. Don’t waste your time on someone who wouldn’t care if you died. Focus on your fucking fiancée.” You look back slightly before slamming the door behind you. 

Jisung wasn’t sure why he felt a bit panicked. His heartbeat accelerated as he stabilized himself against the counter. The slam of the door echoed in his head over and over until Jiwoo was kneeling in front of him, surrounded by all their friends and family. Everyone swooned, there were tears in Jiwoo’s eyes and all her friends' eyes. 

“Han Jisung, will you marry me?”

Jisung looked around frantically, feeling like the world was spinning. Only then did he realize why he was immediately panicked by you leaving. It was solidified by the fact that he couldn’t get in contact with you. He never did get your address, and you either never got another phone or changed your number.

Jisung’s breaths felt like they couldn’t break free. 

He was suffocating.

“Yes.”

-> end of act i

skz masterlist

milestone celebration masterlist

[mushibashiraas]

warning(s): they/them pronouns, bisexual rindou, spirals, depression, self-harm/“picking at the skin on their fingertips again,” mentions of cheating, rin being a d¡ck (but only bc he met reader in a weird, awkward situation), hair pulling, the occasional swear word, waist-specifications, reader has a ton of stuffed animals/plushies, suggestive comments (2 references towards the end), and affectionate nicknames.

“hey, rin....?” they hesitantly ask their boyfriend of two years, eyes darting around every which way but at him. they've started picking at the skin on their fingertips again, he notices.

rindou mutes his gaming mic and turns his chair around. “yeah, baby?” sliding his headphones off of his ears with one hand, he reaches out with the other hand and pulls them towards him until they end up between his legs. wrapping an arm around their small, — as he calls it — “cute” waist he pulls them closer until they almost fall on top of him.

getting the message, they straddle rindou and reach up into his messy blonde streaks distracting their fingers with the lines of bright, cyan-blue running through them.

they don't want to seem angry at rin for this because gods above! they could never be angry at him. their angel. their rock. their peter parker or miles morales. he's always looking out for them. always putting them first before his own needs. they think — no... they know that he'd drop the entire world if they asked him too.

but at the same time.... they just love waking up to his soft features in the morning on the rare occasion when they wake up first. they love when they go to bed and the last thing they see at night is rindou, purple eyes softening and gazing at them as if they hung the stars in his sky. his face relaxing as his eyelids slowly droop trying to and failing to fight off the god hypnos' spell.

so then why? why does he turn around on some nights? or what about those other nights where he'll join them in bed late after staying up playing with his old gang friends and he crawls in behind them and snuggles them in his sleep. he doesn't bother turning them around to face him and kiss his cute nose goodnight. did they say something or do something? did their relationship change? does he not love them? is he cheating on them with someone else? perhaps someone physically and mentally stronger than them caught his eye at the club the other night when they turned him down to join him and ran. he'd be better off with them than they're sorry ass—

a harsh tug on their hair rips a sharp whine from their throat. “what the hell, rin?! what was that for?” they pull away from him and glare at him one hand reaching up behind their head where rindou had just yanked.

“i've been talkin’ to ya this whole time, babe.” he doesn't look mad or annoyed but he certainly looks worried. “you know you've been talkin’ this whole time, yeah? and i've been trying to tell you something and explain to you why i've been sleeping with my back to you or sleeping on the other side of the bed. but you've been spiralling so deep in your thoughts that you didn't hear a word i said. calm down, ok?” compared to the rough tug he gave their hair earlier, he gently cups their face in his rough hands, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on their cheeks. “sorry for pulling your hair like that, hon’. but you were really gone; had me worried there!” he gives them a quick cheeky smile and pecks their forehead. “i was worried because i care about you. i like the feeling of being able to protect someone else dear to me besides my own brother. he's older than me so i don't get that feeling very often. but when i met you and you clung to to me when you passed out and came to that one time, i wanted to feel that sensation again. that pride of and happiness of being a person that someone can rely on. i know it was an accident but still... ‘twas nice.”

“....oh....” they suddenly felt so embarrassed and so ashamed, even though deep down they knew they had nothing to be ashamed about. rindou's their boyfriend. he's one of the few people in their life that has stuck around. the man they've secretly daydreamed of marrying. he's seen them naked. seen them in tears. seen them angry. rindou's caught them in every possible vulnerable state they could ever be in and he never let them down. never gave up on them. never walked away. why would he...? why would.... he.... “why would you stay with me? you've seen every side of me since then. like i said, i am sure there are others out there who aren't as fucked up as me. who are far healthier than i am and can accompany you more often to your club at night with your brother and friends. i don't hold you back; you've said that so that's not the issue here. but.... i want to know why, in a sea of people, you would still choose me.” by now they had started sobbing, face buried in his t-shirt, tattooed arms wrapped firmly around their waist, their own hands balled into fists clutching onto him for dear life as if he'd disappear otherwise.

“babe,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, big, warm, calloused hands slowly rubbing their back. “i choose you over any other healthy guy or girl because i've seen your determination and persistance through everything you've gone through. the only people i've seen with that much determination were that hanagaki guy and toman's leader. but they're different from you; you've remained selfless and compassionate to everyone, no matter what. always the open-minded one trying to see someone's perspective or situation from their end. you're one of the last people to judge others. not gonna lie, i thought it was pretty naive at first. figured you'd be — and saw it often — walked all over a lot. but you never let that keep you down for long.”

they huffed. pouting they also grumbled back, “sure seems long....”

he made a sound like a game show buzzer going off because a contestant ran out of time or got the answer wrong. “incorrect answer, my love. it seemed long but it was always only temporary. things always changed for the better. if things in the world never changed for the better then it would've imploded a long time ago. anyway,” he moves his hands from their back to their shoulders and raises them to look him in the eye.

“anyway,” he says again, “babe, you always say that one of your traits is that you're stubborn as hell. well, ever think that your stubborness applies here too? you're so stubborn and determined to not let people's opinions of you cloud your outlook on life. you've seen and experienced so much that you don't wish to see others go through the same hardships as you. so you give back to others as much as you can. that's pretty cool, y’know? you're cool, babe! the coolest! we can be cool together: you, me, and ran — you laughed! that made you laugh!” rin cheered and giddily kissed their tears away. “but!” he abruptly leaned back all of a sudden. “he can only join our cool squad only because i know he'd be offended at never let me live it down that i don't think he's cool enough to join.” he rolls his eyes at the audacity of how far his brother would go with his dramatics. “it's a wonder *aniki's not an actor with how dramatic he can be sometimes.”

taking a few tissues from the box sitting on rin's desk, they dried their eyes, cleaned their face and blew their nose. “i mean, he did say he's always wanted to be a celebrity. so basically he's living the ‘actor’ life anyway, isn't he?”

taking a clean tissue from them he patted their cheeks dry and chuckled, “true. even if it is my club he's still a celebrity by association. anyway, you good now, babe? baby? my love? my angel? my sweet thing? dollfhmph?” he playfully glared at his “dollface” as they clapped a hand over his mouth. “don't like that last one, baby? ‘s’not what you said last night while i was—”

“you finish that sentence and you'll sleep on the couch!” they playfully retorted back. “besides, you never answered my question about why you've been sleeping with your back to me or why you've been sleeping on the other side of the bed lately.”

“you've got enough stuffed animals. i want to be your stuffed plushie that you hold at night and cuddle with.” the instant rindou pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, they knew he was partly messing with them still to cheer them up. “but in all seriousness,” he relaxed his posture and returned to cleaning them up and fixing their hair. “in all seriousness, baby, when i crawl in behind you after i log off from my game i just like the feeling of your back pressed to my chest as i wrap my arms around you. i also love it when you subconsciously hold onto my own arms when i do that. it's cute!” leaning in, he rests his forehead against theirs and watches and feels as they slowly get more and more flustered. “you know what else is cute?”

“wh-what....?” they stutter, barely able to maintain eye contact with him with how intensely his gaze on them was.

“i also adore how flustered you get — even though we've been dating for two years and have been friends for three — whenever i go to kiss you or whenever i undress you. it makes my heart swell every time i see you trying to look away from me. it only makes me want to kiss you more, y’know? and i think that's exactly what i'll do.” tilting his head to the side rindou gives their lips one peck. two. three.

throwing his headphones onto his chair, he stands up and hoists them over his hips as he effortlessly carries them to the bed. between each deep, hungry, breathless kiss he mutters lowly against their lips high praise after high praise while also promising to show them in slow, agonizing detail why he would never leave and always choose them every time.

note. ....did i grab my own face in my own hands to figure out how rin would hold it and where he'd massage on my face with his thumbs.....? .......yes...... no....... hhhh ABSOLUTELY! fine. lol listen. artists aren't the only ones who do "weird" shit lol

also feel free to listen to 13Aurora's “can't catch me now” slowed + reverb cover on while you read this iyw. i had it on loop while i wrote this aaa tho tbh i was looping it all day

aaaaaa seasonal depression has been kicking me in the ass on top of my symptomatic depression (thanks, migraines). so i've been spiralling a lot lately. and when i spiral,, i wrote rindou comfort lol a bit prouder of this compared to my last rindou comfort (that one is still in my drafts tho. ew!). i like the ending more in this one than the last one!! it flows better, i hope, what with all the kissing and loving and suggestive writing~ oooo *squirms in my seat* i adore final timeline rindou so so much — almost as much as bonten arc rindou hahah!! gamer!rindou also has my whole heart and soul too so i had to include that as well as rin's beloved older brother whom i also adore.

(are rin's gaming friends waiting for him to come back and help them defeat the boss with them....? uhh,,,,,,,,, *stares at rin's afk character* yes!)

*ALSO! “aniki” means older bro or big bro or older brother in japanese slang

[lovelizards]

Abigail clasped her hands in front of her. She gave the judge as brave a stare as she could muster, and said, "Yes. I am a witch."

A wave of shocked whispers and gasps fell like a fog over the crowd that had gathered to see justice done.

"Witch!" The man to the judge's left, Hopkins, snarled, like he'd known the whole time and had been proven right.

He was a man whom no woman could excite except for the witches he hunted, probably annoyed with her for denying it this whole time.

Abigail shifted on sore, bare feet. The metal bridle hung heavy on her head and greatly pained her neck where the leather straps chafed. The chains on her wrists clattered, and the men at either side of her shifted nervously a few paces away.

"So, thou wouldst admit now," the judge said darkly, "that you are witch, and have borne false witness besides."

"It - it was fear that bid me speak falsely," Abigail said, doing her very best to make a scene of letting her eyes wander nervously across the hall, to force a tremble in her shoulders, until she came eye-to-eye with...him.

The man who was meant to be her husband. The man who had caused all of this. Rugged and blond, with a sneer on his dry, thin lips.

She lowered her gaze to the floor and clasped her hands together. The judge sighed.

"Aye, a witch hath great reason for dread -"

"'Twas not for that!" Abigail insisted, raising pleading eyes up to the judge and raising her voice to a panicked pitch. "It - it was - "

Abigail hesitated, making a show of shying away from the part of the crowd where that blonde bastard sat.

She continued: "I - I was coerced! I was seized by the hand, compelled by a dark specter bearing the visage of a man, to inscribe mine own name in the Devil's book!"

"Thou wouldst dare bring these falsehoods before the court?!" Hopkins roared, standing in rage.

"It is truth!" Abigail cried, willing tears into her eyes, "Never have these hands encountered such chill touch, nor eyes beheld such a shadow as did emerge from the dark - approaching me, menacing, whilst I lay abed!"

The crowd's whispers had raised in volume, there was a tense feeling in the courtroom. It was easy enough to prey on their fear of folk tales and superstition. After all, that's why she was there in the first place.

"Have care," Hopkins warned with a scowl to the judge, who sat in stony silence, "a witch honeys her words with spells to blind the unprepared."

"I will hear her," the judge said after a brief pause, "Speak, thou witch, if indeed a shadow bade you barter thy soul, tell of it."

Abigail pressed her closed fists to her dirty bodice, as if she were about to pray, and lowered her head demurely.

"I wouldst beg thee not make me speak of that night..." she whispered, then flinched as Hopkins smacked his hand on the surface of his table.

"Damned witch! Speak! Or speak not, and be judged all the same!"

The judge gestured for him to calm himself, and he sat back with crossed arms. Abigail fidgeted her fingers together, her shoulders hunched.

"The terrible deeds that shadow wrought upon my body, no matter how I begged..." she said, so quietly that every man in the room had to lean in to hear her, then she raised her voice to a scream: "'No! Touch me not! Stay back! I beg thee, foul demon! I am only for my husband and not yet wed!'"

The room went cold and silent. The whispers had stopped short. Colour had drained from the judge's face, and even Hopkins had his brows raised.

Abigail raised her hands towards her face, rattling the metal of the cage on her head; "The shame of it!" She sobbed. "When he was done, it was then that he did grasp mine hand and lead me - blinded by anguish - to sign my name! He bid me to sign, else he would pay his visits anew, every night and again, until -!"

"Enough."

The judge's voice boomed in the hall, echoing eerily in the silence. No one in the crowd spoke, nor did they move.

Abigail glanced around the room. She saw the horrified looks of some men, and some women with handkerchiefs raised to their teary eyes.

It was enough to make her laugh, if she wasn't so tense from nerves.

She'd always hated how small she was, and how young and innocent her looks were. They didn't match her at all.

But in this moment, she was glad she seemed like a pitiful young girl, dirty and tired, and a victim. Her hair fell into her face as she looked up at the judge.

"The name," the judge said solemnly, "speak the name whose face thou didst see in this shadow of man."

Finally. Finally, the story came to its end.

Abigail took in a deep, shaking breath, glad that her tears were finally falling freely, and choked out:

"It - it was -"

"Speak, woman!" Hopkins shouted impatiently.

Abigail flinched away from the crowd, and threw out an accusatory finger to point to the rugged blond man whom she hated, maybe more than anyone else in the world.

"It was Lord James Taverly!"

The crowd erupted in cries of outrage, gasps of shock, and one woman even fainted into the arms of her husband. The men sitting near James leapt up and grabbed at him. And he, of course, fought furiously.

She wished she could see his idiot face. He must have been so shocked. His own act of spite in reporting Abigail as a witch had backfired on him.

He'd warned her she would regret rejecting him. But now...

Now, at least, if she still had to die - he would die, too.

The men who had been guarding her went to the crowd and pulled James bodily up into the pit, holding him tightly and turning him - disheveled and red-faced - towards the judge.

"Your Grace!" James cried in outrage, "I have no covenant with the Devil! I am falsely accused!"

"Silence, James Taverly." The judge said, his gavel sounding out loudly above the noise in the hall, until it lowered to a murmur again.

Then the judge turned to Hopkins, and gave him a look - a look that asked his opinions on the matter.

Abigail's heart sank like a rock.

If it was Hopkins, he would never take her side over that of a man. Especially a man who was a lord! All of her hard work! How could it end like this?!

Hopkins stared deeply into her eyes, so deep that she felt pinned in place. Her desperation must have looked as real as it felt, because he then turned to the judge and said:

"It is not without precedent that a man may partake in the dark arts of witchcraft. All are weak to the ways of the Devil. There is no way to know the truth of it until he is interrogated."

"Lord Hopkins!" James shouted, fury and fear mixing in his stupid face, "I - I am no witch!"

Then, he turned to Abigail, and looked at her with pleading angry eyes, "You must have - have been mistaken! Surely it could not be my own face you saw! I pray you, speak, Abbie!"

She wanted to slap him right there! How dare he use a nickname for her after what he'd done.

Abigail wailed in fright, backing away from him and stumbling over her feet to the ground. She held her hands up to protect herself from him, shaking her head.

"Torment me no longer!" She cried. "Stay back!"

Through her tangled curtain of red hair, Abigail saw his expression shift between anger and horror, until eventually it landed on anger.

"Bitch!" He screamed, "Lying bitch -!"

The judge's lips curled in disgust. He waved a hand, and the bailiffs carried James away shouting profanities. Hopefully, Abigail thought, to be mercilessly tortured and interrogated, and then executed soon after.

"Stand thee, Abigail Cooper."

She did, pulling herself up and reaching awkwardly into her bridle to wipe her eyes on the backs of her hands - probably only smearing more dirt on her cheeks.

"The truth of it will out in the end, I shall bid Master Hopkins undertake the charge. Yet, the truth doth abide that thou didst inscribe thy name in the book. Thou art witch, and must needs be purged of dark magics."

Purged? Abigail's brows furrowed, nervous. She hadn't heard anything about there being a way to fix a witch or 'purge the devil' out of them. Hopkins didn't look too pleased, maybe he hadn't mentioned it on purpose.

Did he hope she would be executed?

How sad for him.

"Y - yes, your Grace -" Abigail agreed, "if thou wouldst but speak the way..."

"I charge you as a witch," the judge said, "and if thy tale be true, then the Witch Breaker shall cast forth the devil from within thee. Take her." This last part was to another group of bailiffs, who tugged on the chain connected to the metal hoop around her hips.

Abigail frowned. The Witch Breaker?

Hopkins sighed loudly, annoyed, and threw his hands up.

Whoever the Witch Breaker was, they were no friend of his. Could that be good news for her?

"I - I thank thee, your Grace!" Abigail called as she was pulled out of the courtroom, but the judge must not have heard her. He was talking with Hopkins, and didn't even look her way.

Well, it wasn't a death sentence.

It was ominous, at best. And fear still danced in her stomach.

But it wasn't death.

She supposed she would have to keep living, if only out of spite.

『 Next 』

[pumpkinsy0]

perhaps headcanons on pony receiving his first B on an english assignment and freaking tf out (totally not based on any real life experience here... nope)

anon pls,,,give urself some room to breath and make mistakes, we r only human, ur gonna kill urself before u get to the future u aspire,,,

•look ponys seen as this beacon of hope and most of that is due to his academic success, ik hes felt some pressure from that, especially after everything that happened

•it started when he was pretty young, darry was pretty good academically and was pretty popular, but this mostly around the time where he skipped those grades, especially bc he was a greaser twas a big deal!!!

•so yea, VERY academically stressed guy, so when he got that b, u just KNOOOWWWW how upset he was, but it dies depend on the severity, if its classwork hes annoyed but whatever, test or projects??? just kill him

•theres not many ppl he could rlly go to about this too, so he just annoyedly thinks about it for a while, he dont even got a backpack or nun, just folds n stuffs that thing in his pocket

•he could NOTTTT b comforted w a “at least u still passed” cause thats not the grade he WANTED, what dont u understand, hes not ungrateful, hes upset n disappointed</33 plus its not even a b PLUS, just b</3

•hes the kinda guy to start blaming externam reasons on y he “didnt pass”, like “darry told me to turn off my light and go to sleep while i was 3 hours i to studying grrrr this is his fault” and thats EXACTLY what he did here

•he looks at the paper for a bit hoping that the teacher just fucked up one of the answers, jumps for JOY when he finds even one, he aint find one here but maybe some day💔💔

•god forbid steve scored higher than him, cause if he rubs it in, ponys going to lose it even more, hes already a tad snappy

•only one who rlly has a clue on how he feels is soda, johnny, and curly, but i dont think theyd 100% understand where hes coming from, like they understand his fear, but they dont get that just saying take it easy wont work (partially bc he just wont allow himself to calm down but shhhh)

•i dont think he’ll get 100% bogged down, hes still FUNCTIONING, a lil sluggish but he’ll work around it, especially bc he doesnt rlly go to the gang for academic help, minus darry but he aint in it🙄🙄

•he would show darry and darry has like 2 reactions “next time do a lil better, kiddo” or “nice job” w a smile, and both if those reactions make upset, bc 1) holy fuck dude shut up ik i have to do better 2)????this is absolutely NOT a good grade, do u see this

•then SODA heard about it, and he would normally grin and tell him great job and that makes pony feel a lil bit better!! sodas grin could cheer anyone up

•i wouldnt say he’d get over it, but hes just like “ok fine, ill just fix this when i get the chance to next time i get this assignment”

•if he was to actually talk to like johnny or curly, he would rant about y he thought the answer was right, and they just grin at him too, him being riled up is funny to em a lil, its like a chihuahua barking or something

[redjennies]

i see you sometimes in different dragon age tags like "oh yeah the lae'zel fan with the redjenny url. who also likes oghren. extreme good taste" and then as an anders girlie i see your "anti"-anders post and im like "yeah they even have good taste in the way they hate my guy"

aw I really appreciate this! I'm really glad people like my takes on Oghren. I almost posted this long ass meta about him while doing my Brosca playthrough but ended up saving it to the drafts because I was like "girl you are the only person going to bat for this man and everyone else is just tolerating your right to be ornery about disliked characters." I just think about him at the Temple of Sacred Ashes a lot. to anyone reading this, if you've never brought him there, you are truly missing out on some fucking wild character work. he is a gem.

truthfully I'm not even really that anti-Anders when I'm not actively in a mood about how much this fandom annoys me. I'm extremely critical of him as a person and full disclosure, without trauma-dumping too much, I do have a personal history that makes it hard for me to not see him as very manipulative if not outright abusive. but I actually quite enjoy him as a character. I think he's got a lot of flaws and strengths that are really interesting to examine how they coincide with Hawke's larger story. how Anders and Hawke are arguably more intrinsically linked to each other than Varric and Hawke are. it might surprise people but I intentionally max out his friendship every time with my main Hawke because I think their particular story is more tragic if she has fully drunk the Anders kool-aid because he's the first unapologetic apostate she's met outside of her family and because he saved Carver in the Deep Roads and she feels like she owes him. even more of a surprise possibly, I love Sebastian and don't like Anders, but my canon ending is Hawke sparing him one last time and asking him to leave because I think that's the best ending for how I play their relationship. like "no, you have asked so much of me and I have done it for you over and over but I'm not going to give you this, even at the expense of my other friendships. you don't get the easy way out. you have to live with this and you have to do it far away from me." like fuck man! the drama! the poetry! the divorce!

honestly most of my vitriol towards him comes from over a decade now of having an extremely negative experience with what I fully recognize are not all his fans but a vocal group of people who plague the Bioware fandom who are just as bigoted as your average fanboy but in a way they can dress up as "social justice." I've said a lot about how I think the Circle and apostates is just straight up a bad metaphor for systemic oppression (see also: any setting with supers and/or legitimately dangerous monsters as stand-in for oppressed people.) and I won't get into it too much here, but it's worth mentioning because I believe the mage rights discourse and Anders particularly attracts this crowd because you know he's a cute queer whiteboy with legitimate problems and pseudo-radical politics. but I was in the DA Tumblr fandom when Inquisition dropped I remember what group of fans on Tumblr who were particularly rabid in their hatred towards characters like Vivienne and Sera (who are both critical of mage freedom, mind.) 'Twas not primarily the Cullenites calling Vivienne an Uncle Tom, no matter what people will tell you now.

and I also get that there's this way Anders haters talk about him that makes even more otherwise reasonable fans dig their heels in about him. like any critique of him that boils down to "Anders bad because he did a terrorism and terrorism bad" is not really useful to me because yeah, I'm not super keen on bombings as the best course of political action, but terrorism is a very politically loaded and at this point somewhat meaningless term that is mostly used to justify extreme violence against a person or group by the state. I don't need to bring up real life examples because the politics of who is and isn't labeled a terrorist being shorthand for who is and isn't a person deserving of basic human rights has become so obvious over the last three decades that everyone knows at least one example of what I'm talking about. on top of that, I'm a big believer that fiction does not and should not exist in a vacuum and good art should provoke discussions about how we view people who do similar things that these fictional characters do. who are we being asked to give empathy to and who are we not? who are we naturally extending empathy to and who are we not? how do we immediately feel about these things? are we outraged? disgusted? moved? does sympathizing with these characters change our understanding of our personal ethical lines? are certain actions justified under dire circumstances or are there certain lines that should never be crossed? are people forever defined by it when they cross said lines? etc etc. none of these questions can be meaningfully answered by "no, thing bad because thing bad."

that being said, I still come down on the side of Anders is a shitty person at the end of the day. not because he blew up that church or even because he tried to kill that girl, but because there's a consistent lack of compassion for the suffering and/or oppression of others the second someone doesn't fit his mold. because he's honestly pretty sexist and racist in universe. because his romance plot is just a series of progressively worsening red flags in a way that's in my opinion, less sexy and more like he's gonna start punching holes in the wall right next to you. because he's lowkey a tankie. and I've said it before and I'll say it til the day I die, we can have a discussion about how ableism influenced his writing, but at the end of the day, as a mentally ill anarchist, I know buckets and buckets of mentally ill leftist whiteboys who act like this. shit I know women and nonbinary people who act like this too. while I can understand that Bioware wasn't necessarily coming from the same perspective I am and think people are right to call his overarching storyline a tired centrist liberal take on the dangers of radicalism, his character writing still feels not only coherent as a character but very true to a particular type of ain't shit anarchist boy I have encountered over and over. i cannot dismiss his flaws and worst moments as bad writing because I feel like I personally know this asshole.

for example, I once made a post about Dissent years and years ago where I was talking about Anders/Justice/Vengeance/whoever we're calling him depending on what's most useful in the moment's outburst of violence towards Ella through the lens of male entitlement even in leftist circles and like yeah I was being a little tongue in cheek about it because a) I'm pretty tongue in cheek in general, b) I have a tendency to get even more tongue in cheek when I'm talking about things that hit a little too close to home to me, and c) that quest is frankly terrifying if you've lived a life that makes you relate more to Ella in that scene than to Anders. I think it was something along the lines of "people can call Anders a revolutionary all they want but when a mage girl was afraid of him instead of grateful for his rescue, he tried to kill her. [insert anarcho-feminist ranting here]" and I remember someone arguing with me about how that's not what happened at all and how even though I was being pithy, their take on the situation was so utterly removed from what occurs that I had to go back and watch the scene to make sure I wasn't the one completely misremembering it which made me realize just how much Anders has been completely rewritten in parts of the fandom consciousness.

which in and of itself is not really a problem. I know some people just don't care for interacting with fanon at all and want to stay as true to canon as possible and I'm like that sometimes, but there are lots of characters I'm like "oh, I don't like how their story went in canon or think the writer had a neat idea but is too misogynistic to handle her in a way I like and I'm going to basically put them in an AU where they developed their traits in a different way and I can recognize this is more or less my version of them." there's characters I don't care for in canon but I love someone else's fanon version of them. I'm even fine with people doing this with Anders, if they want. I've read really good fic with him that is not my take but hey you do you, this is what transformative fandom is for after all. but I do get more than a little prickly when I'm interacting with my reading of canon that is of course informed by my experiences but still discussing something that just literally happens and someone tells me I'm wrong because of what basically amounts to their fanfics, you know?

anyway that's my very long post about my complicated and extremely nuanced Anders feelings. great character, shitty person, his fans are either really cool or really fucking not. also it's been almost fifteen years, and I still think we should've had Jowan in DA2 as a familiar face helping out in the mage underground to both flesh them out more and to serve as a middle ground between the more circle-aligned Orsino and the initially representing the mage underground before getting progressively more Kaczynski-esque, Anders, instead of Cullen just kind of hanging out in the templars not really doing anything.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Twas I who sent in the request for the rankings and information of the yanderes as fathers! I loved it so much, and don’t worry you didn’t mess anything up! It was way too good. You seriously put so much effort into everything you write, it’s all too beautiful! You’re going to have to do a Part 2 Continuation of the rankings again once you accumulate a new descent sized group of yanderes (so a new 16?…)

I’m also thrilled to hear that you love writing scenarios and have been waiting for a request like this. I agree, scenarios are such a fun and easy way to add more background to characters for audiences. Really helps you connect and enter the characters’ psyche.

So this is a bit of a follow-up request I suppose, but now I’m kind of wondering how the yanderes would react if their child (let’s say their son specifically) shows yandere traits, or otherwise a very similar personality to their father? I’m also imagining now how it’d be so funny if the yandere sons went to their mother and hogged all her attention for x time period just to spite and mess with their father…Cause they know they’re untouchable as long as they’re with their mommy and are crying to her.

Lastly, I’m not sure if you’ve read this person’s ABCs of their OCs, as you’ve mentioned you’ve read others, but I find this person’s ABCs to be the best ever! @wordsbymae is the person. I think a mixture of SFW and NSFW would be great for you. I know you don’t do blatant lengthy smut, and I want to make sure you’re always comfortable with what you write and don’t feel pressured to do what others want of you. So the NSFW sprinkles of the ABCs would be like what you currently write, implied. Again, write in your comfort zone only! Besides, seeing some cute fluff never hurts anyone.

Yandere! Men and their Yandere children

LMAO OKAY THIS ONE IS TOO CUTE TO NOT IMMEDIATELY WRITE UP!

Also, thank you for suggesting the user for the ABCs! I'll look into it. For now, i'll be closing the requests to answer the questions once more!

Thank you for being patient with me owo

YAN! ARTIST

Arlen will be somehow happy that his child is of the same disposition as him. Alongside the kid, he'll probably teach the kid to paint you. Although, the kid hogging your attention will be something of an irritant to him.

YAN! DRAGON

Yeah, sorry. Vincent will probably be upset and do some kind of corporal punishment on the kid for hogging your love. He is a dragon after all. A yandere at that too. But, if the kid is only a yandere but not to you, he will be a proud father really.

YAN! THEATER ACTOR

YAN! BUTLER

Zero will be intrigued, more or less. The child he reared produced with you is also a yandere? Did the experiments Zero performed on himself in order to conceive a child somehow affected the kid's personality to match his? Well, in the end, Zero would be like a devil's whisper on the ear of the kid. Telling them that they should do everything for their darling. Although, if the kid is a yandere for you, Zero has no qualms about finding a way to remove the yandere trait, one way or another.

YAN! SUGAR DADDY

Rowan will be proud, like really proud. His kid is also the same as his? Yes please. That's a godsent. If the kid is yandere for you? Feisty squirt, hogging all their mommy's attention. But the mommy always comes back to Rowan's arms. Hello probably rile the kid up for fun.

YAN! JOCK

Damon doesn't really have feelings for family. So when he saw his child is a yandere, he's just "meh". This is one of the rare times Damon won't put up a facade since the child will probably see through him. He actively fights for your attention too, but also making sure not to hurt the kid.

If this was earlier years of the kid's living life, then him not hurting the kid will probably due to you. But later, he will not hurt the kid due to the child being his kid.

YAN! ASSASSIN

YAN! EX-BOYFRIEND

Lee's the same with Damon. He doesn't feel that much for family other than you, so he's more or less annoyed when he realized his child is the same as him and the child's special interest (for now) is you. Probably will actively put the kid in playdates to awoken the child's special romantic interest.

YAN! COWBOY

Knoxx will probably be really proud also. Although, with the kid's special interest being you, he will be annoyed as fuck. He will not be actively finding a person to partner the kid up with, but he will probably pray everyday that the kid will find a special romantic interest.

YAN! EMO

Ashton is sensitive and is self aware as time goes by, so he's probably the only one amongst the yanderes that will be sad that his child is one. Being so obsessed with one person is not that much fun, he says. And with the kid being yandere for you, he'll see this as an opportunity to try and ween the kid off of the mindset before it's too late and the kid finds a special romantic interest.

YAN! WEREWOLF

Lyall will not see it at first because werewolves are naturally territorial. The kid is being possessive over you? Just clingy. The kid bit him because he approached you? Again, clingy and territorial. It will be too late to diagnose that the kid is actually a yandere when the kid is already grown up, and has probably killed a person.

YAN! EX-HUSBAND

Iñigo will have mixed feelings. Does this mean that being a yandere runs in the genes? How is that possible? And then, he will also be annoyed at the kids when they hog your affection and actively fight him. He sees them as nuisances. Also will put them in playdates to find their special interests.

YAN! HOSPITAL CHAIRPERSON

Xavier, the paranoid man he is, will be nervous of the prospect of the kid being a yandere also. What kind of yandere the kid will be? Does this mean he has to give the kid a separate house whenever the kid decides to kidnap? Does he need to help clean the kid up whenever the kid decided to kill? But in the end, he's supportive of the prospect. Although, with the kid being yandere with you, he's not really pleased with it.

YAN! VILLAIN

Eros will see this as a win win situation. Such a kid, doing everything for their special interest. Isn't that amazing? So he'll tolerate the kid's actions, even if it meant having to share you for a bit until the kid finds a special romantic interest for themselves.

YAN! POLITICIAN

Maximus will be a bit apprehensive, especially the earlier years. He needs to watch over the kid's actions in public for his family's reputation. He doesn't mind the kid being a yandere, as long as the kid will watch over their actions. He'll probably also help the kid (once they're grown up) to clean up crimes they did.

YAN! MAFIA BOSS

Hades will be really confused, more or less. He wanted the child to be after you, not him. And the kid is also "clingy" with you? It's not really ideal to him. So with a frown, he'll probably also be partial to the kid being a yandere. At worst, toleration, at best, a passive supporter.

[art-blogge]

Blood and Rust

<"Great work today, everyone! We can officially end Limbus Company business there for the day. Go hit the showers early as my treat.">

Amid cheers, Dante rubbed their arm and flinched slightly. While the Sinners had been fighting off the Abnormality of the week, one of its underlings had managed to bite their arm. Outis had carefully looked over the wound and declared it a normal injury with nothing to fuss over (despite them bleeding on the floor).

Dante wanted to argue about this- A wound from an Abnormality or it's summoned pet could still cause odd status issues!- but they were too tired to bother at the moment. If anything was wrong, Faust would probably notice and tell them. Probably.

Then again, Faust had a running habit of not explaining things until the last possible minute. Why would she explain something if she didn't need to that immediate moment?

How annoying.

With only Charon and Vergilius in the bus, it was quiet for once. It couldn't hurt to nap out here unless Charon slammed on the breaks.

Dante immediate chose the biggest seat and threw themselves on it. Theirs now.

A few hours later, Dante woke up to an odd feeling. They knew what hunger was, what thirst was, but this wasn't either.

<"The effects,"> Dante rumbled, drowsily sitting up.

"The effects!" Don Quixote agreed, not looking up from Dante's device. It took Dante a few extra moments to register that all of this was unusual and did a double take once it had fully processed.

<"What are you doing with that?">

"Someone hath removed my description of Sir Heathcliff! 'Twas not you, Manager Esquire, but whomst?"

<"Probably Faust,"> Dante ticked, rubbing where their eyes would be, <"You're not putting stickers on it again, are you?">

"Nope! I desire to rewrite mine entry!"

Dante was handed their device and they just stared at Don Quixote. Something here was wrong, but Dante wasn't sure what it was. Had something changed? No. Don Quixote looked the same as always. Big, shining eyes staring them full in the face. Oh, they'd gotten distracted.

<"I can't edit these, Donqui,"> Dante finally responded, tapping on the [Edit] button multiple times to no avail. <"And you're not writing in my notes.">

Don Quixote sharply inhaled and Dante fully expected the following yell of "But whyever not???"

<"I don't want anyone in there.">

"Hoh, is it like a diary??… Might I take a peek?"

<"No.">

Dante pocketed their device as a final "No", and Don Quixote sulked. Sulked, but didn't move. Fine. As long as she wasn't making trouble.

Dante thought back to the odd sensation they'd felt. It was still there, gnawing on their insides in a way they had no words for. They couldn't eat or drink anything (in a classical sense), so maybe they were starving? No. That felt different. Similar, but different. Very similar, completely different.

How annoying.

<"Donqui… Maybe a bit of an odd question, but is it normal to want something and not know what you want?">

Her understandably confused expression said all they needed to know, and they tried again.

<"As if I want to eat something specific but don't know what it is.">

"Aha! A craving of sorts, yes! I know of such things! I myself do not get such flights of fancy, but I know those of us that do! For example, I know Sir Gregor---!!"

Dante stopped listening for a moment to think. Okay, their body wanted something. Needed, mayhaps? Perhaps they were lacking in something? They would ask Faust if she was here, but they didn't want to get up all that much.

"--Once caught her putting ranch upon her cheesed burger! I do recall even Rodion staring at that one, myself!"

Oops, they'd missed that entire conversation. They'd also missed the part where they'd put their arm around her shoulders- When had they done that? Whatever. That wasn't worth thinking about at the moment.

<"I don't know why that would be a crime,"> Dante carefully chose to admit, <"For obvious reasons. It's not cigarette ashes in the food so who cares?">

Dante didn't add that they absolutely did have food standards that were arguably higher than half the buses, but that didn't matter when they couldn't participate and SOME PEOPLE would eat off the FLOOR---- Thought terminated, there was something wet touching their glove. The one on Donqui's shoulder. Squinting in spirit, Dante pulled their hand back and inspected their glove. Blood.

<"DONQUI, YOU'RE BLEEDING!"> they honked, jumping up to get a better look. As they did, Don Quixote reached up to check her shoulder as well, visibly confused by the situation. Dante didn't hesitate in turning the clock back, bracing for the pain and---- Felt nothing. Huh? What? Huh??

The wound healed, but the twin holes in her shirt did not, leaving both Sinner and Manager staring at each other. Both were completely clueless as to how that happened.

"I was never once bitten by that fiend…" Don Quixote trailed off, then paused and looked back at Dante. She was thinking hard, or hardly thinking. It wasn't easy to tell with her until her eyes lit up.

"You were! Has that vile fiend made you one of them?!"

Hooooonk!! <"I don't have teeth to bite with!">

"And thy cravings?!"

Dante stopped. The odd feeling had completely subsided at some point in the last few minutes. No. Nonono. It was bad enough the Sinners were glorified sacrifices, which Dante already hated. Now they needed to- No, Wanted to…. "Feed"?

By the Wings, no.

<"Still there,"> Dante lied through their figurative teeth, <"You should probably go. It should be gone by morning.">

After a few more- or a lot more- words, Don Quixote finally left, leaving Dante to think about their options and put their head in their hands. This situation was going to be unsalvageable if something wasn't done soon… But they also couldn't leave the Mephistopheles. Not that it mattered any- Where the Hell would they go??

How annoying.

----

Dante didn't get an ounce of sleep that night, far too worried about their own circumstance to get any. That, and they weren't tired. At least, they'd swear they didn't get any. When they'd dozed off in Sinclair's spot was a big fat mental question mark, so being woken up there was TWO big fat mental question marks.

<"Sorry, Sinclair,">

A moment's pause after sitting up, and then Dante jumped up like they'd been bitten by something. The sensation was back and worse than before.

<"I'm up! I must have dozed off on watch, my apologies!">

It was better to play it off.

Meursault raised his hand slightly, signaling that he wanted to speak. With Dante's approval, he spoke up.

"Faust wants to know your current state after last evening."

Well, never mind that, then.

<"Awful. I'm starving and it's not food I want. It's been like this all night. Please don't come near me.">

Dante realized their mistake as soon as they finished saying it. Telling the Sinners not to come near them immediately meant at least half of them would gang up on Dante's immediate location.

"Do not be bitten by the fiend's evil claws!" shouted Don Quixote from somewhere outside of the ganging. Unfortunately no one besides Dante knew that was a very literal statement, and thus her announcement went ignored. Dante folded in on themselves, pulling both hands into their coat. Too close. Too close! People were so close that Dante swore they could hear heartbeats that weren't their own. And maybe also their own. Dante was very stressed.

Like an angel from the heavens Faust entered, breaking up the crowd with her mere presence.

"It will take seven hours without blood intake to allow the effects wear off. It has been more than seven hours, and yet the effect persists. Please explain yourself, Dante."

She glanced to the side while Dante shrunk into their seat guiltily. Luckily, Don Quixote finally broke through and stood in front of them.

"As I hath said! The fiend has granted Manager Esquire~e claws that draw forth blood with nary a feeling! Look upon the holes in my shirt!"

"Lassie, are you saying Clockface is some sorta vampire now?"

The Mephistopheles erupted into chaos, which Dante was for once grateful for. It meant everyone's attention was off of them for the time being, even if it very much was about them.

Shoving Heathcliff out of her way, Ishmael yelled over the chaos "What if it doesn't wear off?!"

"Then Dante will be reclassified as a Bloodfiend, with all that it entails," Faust calmly answered, not bothering to raise her voice. She actively avoided looking at Ishmael, instead looking towards the nearest window. "That would be more than enough for multiple parts of the Head to hunt them down."

"So just lock them in their office until it goes away!"

Ishmael had a valid point, but it also scared Dante. What if it didn't? And anyway, the LAST time they were in their office with anything relating to an Abnormality, they'd ensnared nearly everyone.

"Then we lose seven hours of work," Meursault stated plainly.

"Our paychecks!" Rodion mourned, mentally removing food from her grocery list.

Gregor adjusted his glasses, sighing and ignoring that last statement.

"We can't work like this. Manager Bud will absolutely be in range of someone's blood. Maybe we can run late?"

The Sinners started to argue again, and then everyone went quiet. Dante didn't remove their head from their hands to see why- Vergilius had probably stood up.

This theory was confirmed when the back of Dante's collar was grabbed and lifted, easily pulling them out of their seat. Dante honked in distress, wildly swinging their arms to smack at Vergilius for such a crime. Dante's pleas to be put down were completely ignored by the annoyed Color Fixer, and they got no help from any of the Sinners.

<"Put me down! Put me down! I can leave myself!">

"Whatever they are saying, I don't care."

How annoying.

<"I'm going to scratch you at this rate and then what?! Another seven hours?!">

To get their point across, Dante swatted at Vergilius' arm before freezing on contact. Though several layers of fabric seperated Dante's hand from Vergilius' arm, Dante could feel his heartbeat. They felt close to him. No, too close..!

<"I can feel your heartbeat, Vergilius! I could spread this to you!">

It had been intended as a warning, but it came out as a threat. Dante hoped it wouldn't be misunderstood.

"Dante says that you cannot risk this status. You cannot have it reversed, we can."

Thank the Wings that Faust understood them. Or maybe she was just playing it down. It was impossible to tell with her sometimes.

Wordlessly Dante was dropped, and they immediately scrambled to their office, resisting the urge to turn back. They wanted to apologize, explain, anything, but not like this. Not like this.

Dante slammed their door shut before leaning against it and sighing internally. Okay, fine. Fine. Just a few hours alone. Not even the full seven. They'd fed off Don Quixote hours ago.

That didn't tell them why the hand that had touched Vergilius' arm had fresh blood on the fingers.

Behind them, they heard the door lock.

<"Whoever's out there!"> Dante whined through some gears, <"I accidentally got Vergil I think! This blood is fresh, reset the count! Seven hours and don't let me out until then!">

"Seven hours," Faust's voice responded, "Faust will keep count."

Dante shut off their vision and mimed a sigh. They could definitely do it- That wasn't the issue. The issue was much harder to determine. The idea of being away from everyone worried them, despite regularly being in a different room than them. No, it'd be fine. It was a single door away. If anything happened, they could yell. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.

They had their device. They could strategize and run some simulated battles- "Gaming", as someone had called it. It wasn't. It was strategizing and testing outputs! It was seeing how well IDs that normally wouldn't be run together would mesh in combat. And, okay, maybe a little bit of goofing around.

They could also record everything in their notes. Someone… C… Cat? Car? Catherine, that was it, Catherine had called it a diary. It couldn't hurt to add notes on their status.

--(6 hours, 50 minutes remaining) Ten minutes later, they'd fully written down everything they thought was important about their current state. Now to strategize.

Seeing no good EGO gifts in the first menu, Dante refreshed and got worse gifts. Ah. Time to reset, then.

Smoke and Wires. Excellent, they could run a Bleed team! How ironic that would be considering the situation!…

Dante wisely refreshed and reset again. They didn't want to accidentally tempt themselves. Dust to Dust AND Ashes to Ashes? Excellent, this would be a fast run. Full Liu, who cares? Time to goof off.

--(6h, 42m remaining) Seeing animated blood splatters was enough to make their insides squirm and gnaw, so they opted to start Win Rate spamming and turning the volume off. This team had no friendly fire (like Reindeer or Magic Bullet), so they weren't worried about outcome. If they won, they won. If they lost, they lost. But now they needed something else to occupy their time alongside this.

Not the projector. Too much blood in most of their life up to this point for it to be a safe option.

Not their own room. There was no way their room wasn't full of blood right now. No way in Hell.

Screw it. Time to learn how to draw. They had pens and they had their notebook.

--(6h 24m) "You alive in there, Manager Bud?"

<"Yes,"> Dante answered, relieved that Gregor was there. For some reason. <"I'm trying to figure out how to draw. It's uh.">

They glanced down at the pitiful attempt of a sheep they "drew" and grumbled.

<"It's not great. Did you need something?">

"Nah, Outis suggested we take turns watching you. Figuratively, of course. I bet it's a better drawing than I could do."

<"Bet,"> Dante responded, getting up and sliding the paper under the door, <"I told you it was bad.">

"What do you mean? This looks fine. Here, let me go find a pen myself…"

Gregor and Dante spent some time passing the paper back and forth, adding better or worse sheep on every time. Eventually this got Sinclair's attention, and he joined them. Unfortunately for both Dante and Gregor's self-esteem, Sinclair was an excellent artist. This went on smoothly until…

--(5h 53m) "Scheiße! Papercut…"

<"Should I get a new piece of paper??"> Dante quickly asked, already starting to get up, <"And are you okay?">

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry. We can keep going-"

Sinclair was cut off by Outis distantly but loudly announcing "TIME TO ROTATE!"

"Uh, guess not. Sorry, bud."

How annoying.

But yeah, that made sense, as much as Dante hated to admit it. Someone staying here too long might forget why the door's locked and open it or something. Okay, time to find something else to do----

"Hello and salutations, Manager Esquire!!!!"

Shit.

<"Hi, Donqui…. How are you feeling after last night?">

"Tis nothing of note. I would very much like to attempt a sheep as well!"

<"Oh, okay! Let me get more paper!">

--(5h 32m) "ROTATE!!" came Ishmael's voice, and Dante stopped drawing to shake their hand out. Finally, they could stop. Don Quixote was surprisingly demanding when she realized Dante was a (slightly) better artist than her. Free of the impromptu commission, Dante slid the paper under the door and rolled over right there on the floor. Their back was starting to hurt from sitting like that for so long.

Unfortunately, since they were no longer focusing on the drawing, Dante was forced to confront the ever-growing hunger clawing at their insides. It was about the same as last night's craving, but it felt worse because they'd been so laser focused on something else… And now they were feeling it all at once.

"You alive in there?" came Heathcliff's voice, a hint of concern under his joking tone, "Do I gotta shove you in this bag too?"

<"I'd take the bag over this,"> Dante groaned, <"This sucks.">

"Sucks, you said?" Rodion added with an audible smirk, and Heathcliff groaned loudly.

A single playing card of some kind was slipped under the door. Dante didn't mind card games, but after the month at sea, they'd learned the hard way that playing with Rodion was not all that fun. Should they take the bait…? Idly scratching their arm with the pen, they considered their options before ultimately deciding that they'd rather be distracted and took the card.

It wasn't a normal playing card. In Rodion's handwriting, the card read "Accept the game or play 108 pickup!".

Well, now they didn't have a choice. Wait. No. If they said no, Rodion would potentially open the door. Wait. No. They wanted to be kept away… Right? Right. Right, yes, keep them away.

<"I don't really want to play with you, Rodya. You cheat.">

"And how the hell are you gonna play Uno when they can't see the deck? It just doesn't work," Heathcliff added.

Dante slipped the card back under the door and mimed a sigh.

<"Can we just talk instead? Donqui was telling me something about ranch earlier.">

--(4h 01m) "Rotation! Move along now!" Outis' voice rang out, breaking the silence. The current trio had run out of things to talk about surprisingly quickly, and it'd just been overall uncomfortable.

"See you in a few hours, Clockhead."

Hours?

Hours???

<"Hours?">

"Yes, hours, Executive Manager. You have four hours remaining. We've been rotating every half hour and--."

<"Four hours?!"> Dante honked incredulously, missing whatever Outis had said after that. Their stomach itched. They ignored it and futzed with the pen some more. They'd seen Hong Lu twirling a pencil the other day and now they were trying to copy it in an attempt to ignore the still-growing sensation of Need.

Outis cleared her throat and knocked on the door to regain Dante's attention.

"I'm sure you want to know why we've been switching every half hour."

Dante could hear the smirk through the door. If they could frown about it, they would be.

<"Of course I do. Go on.">

"Very well. We've been rotating because we've been unable to confirm nor deny that you have not inherited the Abnormality's penchant for manipulation. If a single person is left unchecked, you may convince them to open the door."

<"Since when was I good at manipulating anyone?"> Dante asked, figuratively raising their eyebrows, <"I don't want to be out there right now. It can't be that big of a problem.">

"Executive Manager," was Outis' only response. She sounded annoyed, so Dante didn't push it.

<"See? I'm bad at it. Anyway, who's with you?">

The sound of Ryoshu's odachi bumping against the door was enough to answer that question. Okay, so there wouldn't be anything to talk about this time-

"I would like to give you a suggestion, Executive Manager. Have you eaten yet today?"

Dante's stomach rumbled at the idea of eating. They hadn't even considered it with the stress they were under.

"Do not."

<"What?">

"Do not. You can eat after you overcome this. That gives you something to look forward to."

Ryoshu snickered just loud enough that Dante could hear it.

How annoying.

<"Real helpful. When I get out there, I'm making you eat this pen.">

Their empty threat was completely ignored, taking all the wind out of their sails. All they had to do now was mess with this pen, and that was it. They really, really needed to get a hobby.

--(3h 35m) "Our turn!" came Hong Lu's voice, and Dante picked their head up off the floor. Finally! Someone willing to speak with them!

"Greetings, Dante," said Yi Sang, sitting down against the door, "You have three hours and a half remaining. It is a shame we cannot look upon your visage as we speak to you, but it is a shame we must carry until the hourglass runs out of sang."

"… Sang, sand?" Yi Sang now offered, highlighting the pun that normally would have caught Dante's attention.

"Seems they're not in the mood for it, Yi Sang. Oh, perhaps if we put our face against the ground, we can see them beneath the crack of the door?"

For a moment, Dante imagined seeing Hong Lu's face appearing under the door, and then imagined grabbing his eye with their claws. They very quickly abandoned that imagery and spoke up instead.

<"So, anything to do before I accidentally stab myself with this pen?">

--(2h 59m) The half hour had been spent listening to Hong Lu and Yi Sang have an increasingly nonsensical conversation, so Dante had stopped listening in favor of trying to draw on their coat sleeve. It didn't work, so they took their coat off and tried to write on their shirt sleeve instead. This went predictably worse, what with both the pen and shirt being black. This was stupid.

Frustrated, they scratched at their arm again with the pen, only to recoil when it hurt a bit. They'd accidentally hit where they'd been bitten yesterday, and they immediately put the pen down.

Dante then picked the pen back up and poked at it again. It hurt, yes, but it was a sensation that wasn't the hunger or other hunger.

"Charon wonders if Clockface is dead," Charon plainly stated from outside, startling Dante and making them drop the pen.

<"Uh, no, I'm alive.">

Meursault's voice confirmed for Charon that Dante was alive, and then both went quiet again. Okay, fine, they could play the quiet game too. By taking a nap, right there on the floor.

--(2h 25m) Knocking woke Dante, and without thinking they knocked back.

"Two hours and twenty-five minutes remain," Faust informed them before adding "How is your condition, Dante?"

<"Fine,"> Dante lied, picking at their bandages, <"I'm alive and the clock is fine, so it's fine. I'm going back to sleep.">

--(1h ?m) The sensation of their organs being squeezed snapped Dante wide awake. It didn't hurt them, no, but it was still an awful sensation. They were so, so, SO… Hungry.

<"Is time up yet…?">

"No, and you have about an hour left," answered Vergilius.

Dante would have scrunched up their face if they could have. Instead, they threw the pen across the room as if that would help any. Reasonably this did not help, and Dante returned to picking at their bandages. It was itchy! Super itchy!

Wait.

<"How do you know what I asked??">

Vergilius didn't answer that. Either he'd guessed what Dante was asking, or he was being a prick.

How annoying!

Digging his claws into the door, Dante hissed out <"I asked you a question!">

They were ignored a second time. Dante realized their claws were out and immediately retracted them. Then Dante realized they had claws and let them back out to inspect. They didn't pierce Dante's gloves, but they were still very sharp. Abnormality logic, Dante figured, poking their uninjured arm with a claw. Ouch. They weren't sure what they expected when they did that.

Another internal squeeze caught Dante off-guard, causing them to curl up and groan. It felt like they were being squeezed like one would a lemon or something. Was the vampirism trying to drink their blood? That didn't make sense, but neither did any alternatives.

Vergilius said something, but Dante didn't process it with all of their brain and RAM focused on figuring out how to ease this awful sensation.

--(? ??) Laying on their side with their knees to their chest seemed to settle the foreign sensation the best, so they kept that position. They were determined to get through this. The only issue now wa---

<"Ouch!">

They'd poked the injury again while itching. Whoops. Well, that wasn't an issue. If it bled, they could just re-wrap it.

If it bled.

If it. If it bled.

Bled? Bleeding?

Would it bleed?

Scratch, scratch. Scratch, scratch. Scratch- BLOOD! BLOOD! FOOD! FOOD! F--

<"Ack!">

Realizing what they'd done, Dante ripped their claws out of the re-opened wound and immediately pressed on it with their coat. It hurt, and they could feel the blood soaking into their coat, and they could feel the blood soaking into their glove, and they could see the blood, and they could smell the blood. It was right there, free, without hurting anyone else.

"Is everything good in there, Manager Bud?" asked Gregor with a bump on the door.

<"No!"> Dante blared a little louder than intended, <"Ask Faust if my own blood will make it take longer! The wound reopened, sorry! It got itchy…">

They had no intention of admitting that they'd briefly fallen victim to madness. Why would they? They were the Manager, and they had to appear competent. They had to, despite all of the Sinners knowing well that they were a defenseless coward.

They waited to hear an answer, but none came. So they waited, and waited, and none came.

Hesitantly, they called out. Was anyone there? Could anyone hear them?

Hello?

But nobody answered.

It was just Dante, their wound, and the bitter scent of blood.

Panic took over. They had no idea how long was left, and their claws had touched their own blood. Did this mean they ruined everything? Was it fine or was there another seven hours? Was there a point in waiting anymore?

Now completely desperate to escape the sensations, they plunged their claws back into the wound with a maddened fervor. Feeling blood rush into their hand gave them a euphoric rush as well. Free! Free! No more waiting! Sustenance! Food! Blood! No, not enough! More, faster! It wasn't enough! Bite down and drink up! Still not enough! Still not enough! Ignore their burning throat! More!!

Then it was over, leaving Dante soaked in their own blood and feeling nauseous. They'd failed. They could feel stomach acid bouncing up and down their throat, threatening to overflow, and they could feel their vison blurring.

The door's lock clicked, and Dante scrambled away from the door.

<"Don't come in! Don't!">

Their warning was completely ignored, and Faust's voice clearly spoke.

"Time is up. I am opening the door."

<"No no, don't, I lost control…!"> they weakly warned, but this too was ignored.

The door finally swung open to most of the Sinners squeezed into one area, all glad to see Dante… Before taking in the sights.

Everyone shouted at once and tried to run every-which-way, chaos erupting right there in Dante's doorway. Dante was grateful they cared enough to express it.

Rodion had once joked that if Dante was an animal, they'd be a cat. Dante's fading mind agreed with this and slowly blinked before remembering they weren't a cat and that they didn't visibly blink. Someone had grabbed their wounded arm in the meantime, and someone else was holding them upright. That wasn't important. Oh, and they'd had claws like a cat too. That was definitely more important.

<"Rodya was right,"> they slurred, one uncomfortably long tick bubbling out of them, <"Kinda was like a cat.">

"Goddamn bloody delirious."

"That is quite like a cat! Do you also have nine lives, Dante?"

Before Dante could consider responding in their daze, the room was briefly covered in water with a loud SPLASH from somewhere to their left. Dante's vision cleared, and they rapidly became aware of the situation they were in. They also ignored whatever it was leaking from their head, whether it be water, oil, blood, or vomit.

"Situation has been resolved," Faust stated, removing the Fluid Sac EGO, "Time is up. Your own blood was not able to trigger the counter. Faust thanks you for testing that."

"A.Y.I?"

"Ryoshu wants to know if you're insane.."

"Faust is completely sane and reasonable, as am I. Thank you for asking."

Rodion bent down and lightly knocked on Dante's head, turning their attention from Outis re-wrapping their arm.

"Danteeeee, you bad kitty, you've made a mess!" Rodion teased, and Dante swore their head got warmer all of a sudden. If not for their arm being stiffly held, they would bury their face in their hands. Instead, Dante opted to bury it in Outis' shoulder, ignoring her visibly irritated expression. From there, Dante spoke up.

<"Thank you for being patient, but I think I'd like to skip today… I need to hit the shower.">

All of the Sinners immediately agreed that Dante was not to leave their sight again and unified to deal with this themselves.

How embarrassing…!

[messrsrarchives]

3 , 5 , 19 , 25

ask game

3. worst take i've seen on tumblr

i had an anon tell me that me liking regulus was equivalent to 9/11 and i have to say,,, that was a bit fucking insane. quite wild actually.

5. worst discord server i've been in

erm :/ i don't use discord :/ i'm cool :/

but actually not marauders related because i don't have a worst one BUT! i modded for a small bands discord server. twas an *okay* server, i wasn't very active. so it was fine,,, until i start my new school. and i'm walking to class and someone yells "ISNT THAT ONE OF OUR MODS!?" and i turn around,,,, it's the band.

like wdym ??? i knew you were in our county but wdym you're in the sixth form as me. and we crossed paths on my FIRST day. fun lil story for you there ! i quit the same day x (this is a cop out answer x)

19. something you're mad/horrified/ashamed that you like

there are,,, so many things i could say. so many things i could say and all of them detrimental to my character so i'll give you a simple "age gap" reply. what a broad term. i sure hope i don't mean anything nefarious and morally questionable ahahahahahah 🤗

25. COMMON FANDOM COMPLAINT YOU'RE SICK OF HEARING

all of them 😭😭😭 ALL. OF. THEM. 😭😭😭

obvious one that i've complained about a lot: fem sirius. and i genuinely think it comes from a good place! there absolutely should be critical thinking behind gender presentation in queer couples,,,, For Mainstream Media. and to SOME extent. but oftentimes it just becomes "omg man in makeup!!! straight relationship!!! WOMAN 🫵🏻" and i read it and then cry my makeup off. everyone is so anti-gender norms until it's a queer person.

any complaint that says "X ship ruined the fandom" as if it isn't that attitude that actually ruins fandom spaces. no. a ship cannot ruin a fandom - the response to change and the inability to simply scroll past things you don't enjoy? that does.

and then ! WIPs. look i'm writing for myself and me only, and i don't write much or a lot or very well or at a big scale or wtv wtv, but even i've had comments like "reading this when it's done"

and then you scroll and someones like "where are all the long fics gone!!!" gone. not happening. because yall don't read wips. and i can't imagine how annoying it is for widely appreciated authors to put out a new work they're excited for and just get flooded with "i dont read wips but i cant wait" read wips !!!!