#unless that's how much he wanted to be there for it

[comicaurora]

Do you think the main characters (in aurora)’s fatal flaws can be summed up in one word? If so, what are they?

Yes, but most of my answers only register as flaws if you squint. I think characters are most interesting if their admirable qualities are also what gets them in trouble, and anything becomes a flaw in the right circumstances.

Kendal is selfless. He barely registers himself as a person, so his acts of compassion frequently come at a severe personal cost. He has a massive blind spot for how much it hurts others when he hurts himself. He is kind and lacking in ego, but he has zero ability to advocate for himself. He defines himself by what he can do for others, and is only barely beginning to understand that he can do things for himself.

Alinua is paralyzed. She wants to heal and she does not want to hurt, and she's wrestling with a massive, terrifying power and responsibility that allows her to do both. She spent so long terrified of hurting anyone that she overthinks her actions unless she's running on pure adrenaline and impulsiveness can take over for her.

Erin is independent. He's quicker than everyone around him, and he has no patience for anyone who he sees as slowing him down. He is tremendously powerful and very intelligent, but he has absolutely no ability to work in a team, because that means trusting others to execute his ideas flawlessly, and from his angle, nobody can do that reliably except for him. It's not a logical conclusion, but he can always find a reason for why his plans were foiled by other people messing them up. Erin would love to be helped and rescued. He just knows nobody can, and nobody will.

Falst is loyal. Falst is also unbelievably lonely and, like Erin, has cultivated extreme self-reliance in the face of neglect. Falst loves being part of a team, but has absolutely no ability to trust that he is safe in it. He hasn't been wanted anywhere in a very long time. He's too proud to say that, and he's very angry at the part of himself that is hurt by that, which makes him very volatile in very specific contexts where that part of him is exposed to the air.

Dainix is insightful. He reads people too clearly, but has very little understanding of how much it's okay to plainly say about what other people are thinking and feeling. Where he's from, thanks to the magical influence of Fire, the seat of emotion, everyone can to a certain extent feel the vibes and temperature of the room and everyone is mostly on the same page about it. He is utterly unprepared for people like Falst who become extremely defensive at any insight that prods a sensitive spot, and he's pretty much hopeless at performing any deceit more complex than a half-truth.

Tess is free. She's the ideal of wanderlust, and living her truth is good for her, but it makes her fundamentally unreliable for everyone around her. She cannot be comfortable in stability, and she is ultimately following a selfish goal of pure self-determination that makes it impossible for her to stay anywhere long. She is disconnected from her surroundings and the people who love her. She doesn't like thinking of her loved ones as tethers holding her down, but if she stays anywhere too long, that's what they become.

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

"Toji?" You call, putting your phone down after hearing the front door slam shut. Your heartbeat quickens when you hear heavy footsteps going through the living room, approaching the kitchen, where you are. Toji's expression looks blank from afar, but as he gets closer, you can see the signs of stress on his face. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his eyes are lidded and there's no sign of the usual playful smirk that he reserves for you. He snatches your hand from where it rests on the kitchen counter, and holds it in a tight grip as he drags you away with him to the bedroom.

The second you reach the bedroom, he shuts the door and locks it before pushing you back onto the bed. He climbs over you and immediately starts devouring your neck. You can hear his erratic breathing as he aggressively kisses your skin.

"To- Toji?" You call, again.

"Is this okay?" He asks, his voice a deep and low rumble beneath your ear. Your word tidal waves his needs and stomps on anything he may be feeling inside. Nothing is ever so deep that it's worth scaring you over, so if being touched this way is not something you want, he won't push you.

You understand what he's implying and offer a nod, before responding with more certainty.

"Yes, Toji," you permit, unable to catch his eyes before he's moving back to your neck.

"I need peace and quiet, right now. No talking, unless you're uncomfortable with something, yes?"

"Yeah- Yes," you correct.

He offers you the faintest of smiles, before going down your body. You respect his request and give him the silence he wants as he continues. Your fingers course through his hair as he plants kisses on your chest, the light sensation luring out a few quiet breaths from him. He goes lower, pushing up your shirt to reveal your tummy, where he plants even more kisses. You let out a gasp when he sucks a mark just above your bellybutton. He leaves a couple more, placing them lower as he reaches the waistband of your shorts and the elastic of your underwear. He pulls them both down in one swoop, and without hesitation buries his face between your thighs.

Toji's name is dying over and over on your tongue. You want to let him know how good you're feeling—how good he's making you feel— but you don't want to kill his energy entirely by disobeying his request for silence. Soft, almost inaudible moans spill from your lips, as you paw at the sheets beneath you. You bite your lip every time you feel the urge to say his name, the taste of iron perfectly embodying the foulness of being unable to praise him for making you feel this way. His fingers are digging into your hips, leaving a dull ache that you know will feel sore later on.

You make eye contact with Toji and feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. You can physically feel the blood pumping in your veins run cold, your skin pebbling with goosebumps the longer you look at him. Those fern-colored eyes are borderline predatory. His pupils are enlarged, your effect on him entirely drug-like as your taste smothers every tastebud on his tongue.

Toji's gaze dominates you and provides the smallest tinge of intimidation, which only makes your orgasm that much stronger when it strikes. You're so good to him, slapping a palm over your mouth to muffle those cries of intense pleasure as the sensation surges through you. Even when you're preventing yourself from being too loud, for his sake, Toji knows the effect he has on you. Your body is trembling, your eyes are closed tightly, and the sheets are balled up in your tight-knuckled fist. He can positively assume that beneath your hand, your lips are being chewed up to all hell and god it's so beautiful.

Toji is patient enough to give you a second to compose yourself. He keeps his eyes on you the entire time, because he finds comfort in the surface level view of the chaos you must be feeling inside. Once you're more visibly relaxed, he does a check in. He squeezes your thigh and waits for you to give him a thumbs up.

When you give Toji the signal, he picks up where he left off with no hesitation, only this time, his fingers find refuge inside your drooling cunt. He eases one thick digit in first, a mesmerized look on his face as it easily sinks into you, your arousal being a big help in the process. He lets out a quiet, fascinated gasp when your warm walls start contracting around his finger.

"Shh... baby," he whispers, hushing your little whimpers as his finger sinks deeper, until it's completely swallowed by your velvety walls.

Your stomach quivers when Toji slowly starts pumping his finger in and out of you. Just when you think you can take it, he adds a second finger, luring a sharp gasp from you. Both of your hands come up to your face, your warm breath released through the cracks between your fingers. Toji taps your thigh, and when your hands come down so you can see him, he gives you a disapproving shake of his head.

"No covering your pretty face."

Hearing Toji's voice again made you clench around his fingers, a feeling that lured a smirk onto his lips. You felt like you were delving into insanity with every beckoning motion he made, but when his lips enveloped your throbbing clit, your entire body jolted, earning a hum of warning from him as he gripped your hip, holding you steady in place. His cock twitched mercilessly at the sound of your bitten back moans and the sharp, stuttered breaths he stole from you. You nearly choke on your spit when he picks up the pace, a silent but very obvious request for you to cum on his fingers. His fingertips keep brushing against your sensitive spot, the precision turning you to mush. His lips attach to your clit again, suckling on the bud as his fingers continue to plunge into you.

Toji looks up at you through his eyelashes and in an instant, his shoulders lose the remaining tension they carried from before. You look so graceful, like some sort of goddess, with your eyes closed and those glimmering tears gliding down your face. He feels so much better just looking at you, watching your pretty eyes flutter open and your lips part to breathe. This is why the talking part comes after. By the time he's finished between your thighs, he's a lot more calm and level headed than when he first got home. Just being able to see you and hold you would have been enough to dissipate his stress, but as always, you being the angel that you are, you allowed him to use you as he pleased to unwind.

Your back arches off the bed and again, you taste iron on your tongue. Your head is thrown back into the pillow, your hands gripping the pillowcase tightly as you cum all over Toji's fingers. His tongue gently laps at your clit, a contrast to the motion of his fingers inside you. You ended up breaking, your moans flooding out with every bit of pleasure coursing through you. You gasped out a few apologies, and tried to quiet down again after your fourth breathy "s-sorry".

Toji just hums, too distracted by the feeling of your juices dripping down his palm. He retracts his fingers and tongue from your cunt when your hips start jerking away from him and he pops the digits into his mouth, licking them, as well as his palm, clean because he's never been one to waste even a drop of your sweetness. His hands are warm on your thighs, squeezing the plush flesh, comfortingly, while you work to recover your breath. He plants kisses on your thighs, not stopping until he hears your breathing regulate.

Once your chest moves at a calm and steady pace, he puts your panties back on and tosses your shorts somewhere on the floor, before crawling up the bed to level with you. He pulls you into him and brings your leg up, resting it over his hip. His arms are wrapped around you, while he presses multiple quick kisses to your forehead, a silent act of gratitude for disarming him.

"What's up, baby? Did the job go okay?" You murmur, your eyes trailing up from his lips to meet his gaze.

"Better than okay if i'm home with you, doll." His hand glides up from where it rests on your hip, and goes beneath your shirt to splay over your warm, bare waist. "Missed you," he says, lowly, a smirk on his face as he leans in closer. Close enough for his lips to nearly ghost yours.

"Did you?" You respond, easing forward a little more, still not meeting his lips.

"Lots. So fucking much." You giggle when he leans forward, chasing your lips as you inch back, away from him. "Quit teasing, baby. Stay."

You let out another sweet giggle, as you wait for Toji to close the distance between your lips. The kisses are gentle—soft and loving— while still having his longing for you imbued into them. Your cheeks are warm when the kiss is finally broken.

"I need a nap," you murmur, tiredly.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest. "Yeah, I drained your energy, huh?"

"It's okay." You smile at the lingering warmth in his gaze. "I'm here for you whenever and however you need me. I got you, baby."

In that moment, Toji feels like he could crush you in his arms until your chest caves in, like he could lock you in a kiss until you're teary eyed and gasping for air, like he could break your hand from holding it so tight. The feelings you stir in him are strong to the point of being disastrous, and you're such a delicate thing, unknowing, with no signs of fear as you lie so close to him.

"What am I gonna do with you, sweetheart?" Green eyes trace your features and the soft expression they create. "You make being away from you so damn hard." Goosebumps rise and settle with every absentminded drag of Toji's palm on your waist. "Sometimes, I don't wanna see anyone other than you. Everyone else is so shitty and... I just don't care." He sighs. Your attentiveness is calming to him. You're hanging on to every word he says. "You're the only person I wanted to see today. Only you. I made everyone's day hell because I couldn't stay home with you."

"Well, you're home with me, now," you say, smiling. "And we have the rest of the day to spend together. We can do anything you want, but I need you to relax for a little, before anything, my love. I know you're tired."

"Oh, I am so relaxed. Got everything I need right here." Toji's heavy hand comes down on your ass, a firm squeeze following, luring a gasp and a shocked "Toji" from you. He smirks at your little giggle. He knows you like when he does stupid things like that, and he likes making you laugh so he keeps doing them.

"Wanna take a nap with me?" You ask, tiredness washing over you, again. Toji has a knack at getting you to fall asleep, easily. His hands work wonders at soothing you, despite how often he says that they're too rough to bring you any comfort.

"Hell yeah, mama," he responds, ready to get much needed rest with you. You immediately start feeling sleepier when his hand goes beneath your shirt, allowing him to stroke your back in the way he knows turns you into a sleeping, drooling mess.

[conkreetmonkey]

Red Dead Redemption 2 was so real for creating the most in-depth, realistic clothing system I've ever seen in any game, and exclusively using it on burly, unhygienic men.

You choose every layer, every accessory, with dozens to hundreds of each to choose from. You can go in and fine-tune minute details like whether or not to roll up the shirt sleeves, or button the collar, or whether to wear your pants under your boots. These clothes get dirty in real time depending on what you do in the game. Mud, dust and blood linger unless washed off. Every garment has a warmth rating based on its material, and the game calculates what temperatures an outfit is suitable for based on the combined total. Dressing too cold or warm for the weather causes health debuffs.

You can choose which way he parts his hair, and whether he gels it. If you eat too much he gets bulkier and gains a double chin, and if you eat too little he can go underweight and get all bony and sallow. Both of these states come with stat changes. His hair and beard grow in real game time, and you need to routinely style and shave his facial hair if you want any style other than a full Santa. You need to bathe him regularly or people will start commenting on his BO, and he'll start visibly appearing filthy long before that. He sunburns in the sun, and in the heat he becomes slick and glossy with sweat.

This shit is IN DEPTH. It blows the customization systems of actual fashion-centric games like tf2, Monster Hunter and Splatoon out of the water in every regard. They honestly look basic in comparison. It's a paradigm shift for sure once you experience RDR2's level of customization. Everything else starts to feel smaller.

The player character all this customization is applied to, and I simply cannot stress this enough, is a 36 year old, 6'3" smoker weighing well over 200 pounds, with facial hair thicker than a sheepdogs, forearms like gnarled tree trunks and a dark, dense forest of body hair covering every reasonable surface. His skin is pocked and marred with scars from a rugged, nomadic lifestyle, and his teeth are the colour of cornbread. He has a thick southern accent, is a known mean drunk and knows how to skin pretty much any North American animal. He has never worn deodorant, flossed or moisturized. He eats canned beans, fruit and the like by simply pouring them into his mouth and gulping, often while walking or riding a horse at full gallop.

I can think of NO better use case for such customization. Not some fresh-faced little twink, not some busty anime babe. Just a gross, hairy, unwashed homeless dude with crippling self esteem issues and a chest broader than a barrel laid lengthwise. A non fashion-centric game, certainly a non-fashion centric character, but for some reason the best clothing and customization system ever concieved, bar none. What the fuck.

[chukys-mouthguard]

rubberband

featuring -> luke hughes x female reader

word count -> 2.8k

genre -> fluff/angst

summary -> luke comes back to umich, but he can’t avoid seeing you

note -> italics are flashbacks

The start of another school year meant another fall semester filled with football, house parties, and memories. You and your friends had just finished moving in the day before, Saturday being blocked off on your calendar as the day of welcome back parties all over campus. Typically you would have one house in mind to go to, but since he’d left Michigan, you weren’t a fan. Not that the other guys that were still around weren’t great, but the memories that remained after Luke had moved on to New Jersey were still so fresh for you. Though it was your Senior year, and you were trying your best to make it a great one.

You and your friends headed down the sidewalk, closing in on the hockey house and you could feel your palms growing sweaty. The house still looked just as it did the first night you’d shown up there Freshman year, not a clue of who you would meet that night.

-

“Can I get you anything?”

Looking up, your eyes met those of the curly haired Freshman you’d heard was named Luke. He smiled softly down at you, noticing how shy you’d become looking over the large amount of alcohol they had covering their kitchen counter. Your freehand scratching at the skin of your wrist, a nervous habit Luke surely noticed but found cute, smiling down at you as you nodded.

“Um, sure.”

“We’ve got beer, vodka, tequila. Though I would not recommend that unless you’re actually trying to die tonight.”

You laughed at his joking as he gave you the grand tour of the bottom shelf alcohol that the boys could afford. Though no one minding as they more so cared about being drunk than what the liquids tasted like.

“What are you drinking?”

Luke looked at his solo cup, making a face before returning eye contact.

“Beer, but if I’m honest I wouldn’t recommend this either. It’s awful to be blunt.”

The two of you laughed together, your eyes scouring the options once again as the only logical choice remained, vodka. Luke poured you some into a cup, letting you decide on what you’d opt to mix into the alcohol. Though he mentioned he wouldn’t judge if you drank it straight, but surely it would taste worse that way.

“I’m Luke.”

“Y/n.”

“Well y/n, can I give you the tour?”

-

Little did you know it, but at the time Luke was using the excuse of a tour as a way to get away from the party. He wasn’t the biggest party animal his Freshman year, enjoying the opportunity to sneak away with you for a bit and relax. His favorite spot was to sneak up onto the roof, not many people knew how and it was often quiet up there.

But it was clear that had changed as the roof was currently crowded with tens of people seated around, some chugging beers and tossing them to the ground below. Others shouting at the crowd below over the music that was blasting from the house.

-

“So Luke Hughes, how long until people discover our secret spot?”

The two of you had been keeping up the routine of sneaking to the roof for several weekends now. No one ever seemed to notice, and even if they did they made their own assumptions of what the two of you were doing.

“Hmm, well, I would hope they never do. I’d love for this to stay our spot. But, I would say maybe two more weekends and we will get kicked out.”

He sipped his beer as the two of you watched the party taking place below. Always loving to watch his teammates try their luck with different girls; some succeeding, others striking out.

“Can I ask you something?”

You looked to Luke, his smile fading as he looked more sincere, nodding his head as his way of asking you to continue.

“Do you, are we…sorry, I just. I don’t want to read too much into anything, but, what would you say this is? Like with us?”

Luke sighed softly, sipping his beer as he tried to find the right response. Making you nervously scratch at your wrist as you were immediately regretting even asking the question. Surely he didn’t see this as anything, he was focused on hockey not relationships.

“I think this is, comfortable? It feels right? I don’t know, I just really like you being here with me. I can’t describe it, but it feels natural. What do you think?

He nervously sipped his beer while you now tapped the side of your seltzer, nodding slightly in agreement as you were thinking of your own response.

“I agree. It feels right, whatever it is. I just enjoy the time I get with you, always. And, I’m happy here.”

“Me too.”

Luke’s smile faded as he slowly moved closer to you, his hand tucking some of your hair behind your ear before resting on your cheek. You could feel his breath against your lips he was so close to you. Your eyes darted from his lips to his eyes as time felt like it was frozen before he’d finally kissed you. The two of you tangling your hands into each other's hair, the taste of alcohol mixed with your chapstick. Neither one of you fighting for dominance, simply letting the moment happen how it may.

Luke finally pulled away, a blush on his cheeks as he scratched his head. Slightly embarrassed at his forwardness, but appreciating that you didn’t seem to turn down his actions.

“Still feels right?”

“Mhm, definitely.”

Luke smiled as he looked down, messing with the bracelets on his wrist, pulling a simple rubberband type off and grabbing for your hand.

“Here.”

He placed the bracelet on your wrist with a smile, admiring how it looked despite its simple nature.

“Whenever you’re feeling nervous, when you’re missing me, or whatever the case may be. I’ll be there.”

You smiled at the rubberband, lightly snapping it against your skin. Realizing that not only was it a reminder of Luke, but something to help your nervous habit he’d obviously picked up on. Appreciating the gesture and that he’d noticed the small quirk about you.

-

That bracelet was your source of comfort during numerous finals weeks, a stress reliever during all of Luke’s home games as you’d snap it against your skin. And even with Luke leaving for New Jersey, the bracelet remained as a symbol of his promise to always come back.

Things between you and Luke had continued similarly to how they’d started your Freshman year. Though never putting a label on things, it was common knowledge that you were certainly more than nothing, you were something.

You watched the group of girls from across the way, crowding around in hopes to get to see the guys after their big win. It was a normal occurrence, especially with girls from opposing schools. And while you and Luke were definitely secure in your relationship, you still couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Watching how the girls all flocked to him, asking for pictures, trying to create small talk. Luke of course too nice to ignore them, simply smiling through it all.

Looking up, his eyes met yours, his smile growing wide as he excused himself from the group of girls. Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist as he picked you up, stealing a kiss before setting you back down.

“You’ve got some groupies huh?”

Luke rolled his eyes with a short, placing an arm around your shoulder as you two started off towards the exit.

“Only one groupie I have eyes for babe.”

-

Things were great with Luke, that was until he’d gotten drafted by the Devils. You knew the day was likely to come at some point, but you never thought about what it would be like when it finally did.

The conversation hadn’t really taken place regarding what would happen for the two of you if and when he made the move to New Jersey. But once things were official, and he was leaving, you were faced with the inevitable.

-

“So, you weren’t gonna tell me until the day you were leaving?”

You looked to Luke through tear filled eyes. While you wanted to be happy and excited for him, having just signed his entry level contract with the Devils. You were heartbroken that in the same day he’d achieved his dreams, he was also telling you goodbye.

“I know, it’s the worst possible way to tell you. But, believe me, this is all happening so fast there was no right time for any of this. I hate having to just up and leave you. I won't be that far, you can come visit me, we will see each other in the summer. This doesn’t change anything.”

Luke looked down to see you nervously pulling at the rubberband that was on your wrist. Smiling softly as he knew you hadn’t once taken it off since he’d given it to you over a year ago.

Taking your hands in his he tried his best to relax your mind that he could see was racing with a million and one thoughts.

“Look at me, I promise, this doesn’t change things okay?”

You wanted to believe him, that him only being a few states away wouldn’t change anything. That you’d continue with your relationship exactly how it had been. That you could snap the rubberband on your wrist whenever you were sad, anxious, or missing him, and it would all magically get better. But you couldn’t help but be nervous about what this next step meant for him. Leaving you behind at school, while you knew it was bound to happen, didn’t feel any less shitty than all the times you’d tried to prepare yourself for it.

“You promise?”

Luke cupped your face as he brought your lips to his, the kiss nothing more than a longing peck, but enough to make your racing thoughts cease for even a moment.

“I promise”

-

But his promises fell short, and those summer’s at the lake house never happened. One trip to New Jersey was all you’d gotten, and soon enough Luke had become mostly a memory.

Text messages and calls were here and there, his schedule keeping him busier than he ever was at Michigan. You’d tried your best to hold out hope, telling yourself that he’d made a promise to you. But as more time went on, you’d begun to realize that maybe all this relationship was with Luke, was nothing more than a casual thing. That despite how much he cared about you, and all the promises he’d made, he wasn’t looking for something serious. That he wasn’t serious about you.

Making your way up the stairs of the hockey house, you’d noticed several familiar faces along with several new ones. The freshman players were easier to spot, as they reminded you of Luke on the night you’d first met him. Timid compared to the veteran guys who were screaming about games of pong and beer die that were set to start in the backyard.

You felt yourself growing a bit anxious, wondering why you’d come back to a house that held so many memories. While they were mostly good, they made you think of Luke.

Heading out to the backyard, you found comfort in the sea of people. Knowing that you’d easily be able to get lost among them, distract yourself from the familiar faces while you hoped the alcohol you planned to consume would ease your nerves.

Following behind your friend, you found yourself subconsciously snapping the band at your wrist, trying to distract yourself from any Luke related thoughts that crept into your mind.

Taking a solo cup from her hand, your friend began talking about the way the girls at the party seemed to flock to all the hockey guys as they stood on the back porch. The two of you laughed, knowing you once were like them. Drooling over the shirtless boys at the house, thinking they were the hottest thing on campus. Wanting to be able to say you’d gotten the chance to talk to one of the hockey boys at the party.

“Oh my god, y/n, please don’t look at the porch.”

Your friend reached for your arm, turning you to face her so your back was to the group of men on the porch. Naturally you looked over your shoulder as you were curious what she didn’t want you to see. But the moment you saw him, you felt your heart sink.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. We can leave.”

Obviously, Luke had every right to be there. He did go to Michigan and played hockey for the school. But you weren’t expecting to see him back since he’d moved on to the NHL. Especially not expecting to see him shirtless at the hockey house looking more amazing than ever. Girls crowded around him, all hoping to get even just a touch of his hand on their skin to be able to brag about for the next month.

Before you could make a decision about leaving, Luke’s attention had turned in your direction. Slightly lowering his sunglasses from his eyes, they met yours as he stood shocked to have seen you.

You could feel the goosebumps beginning to cover your skin, your heart racing as Luke began to make his way over to you. Instinctually, you headed through the crowd, wanting to be anywhere but this house. Luke set down his beer as he took off after you.

“Y/n, come on. Please y/n!”

His hand grabbed your arm as he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as you turned to face him.

“What?”

Your tone was harsh as you tried hiding the pain in your voice, but the tears in your eyes of course gave it away. Luke’s heart sinking seeing you hurt, never expecting this moment to happen, otherwise he might have prepared better. But for the moment, he was at a loss for words.

“I, I’m sorry. For everything. I know that’s not specific, but I’m honestly just shocked to see you.”

You laughed as you wiped your tears that were threatening to fall. Shaking your head you searched for the right words, trying not to start a fight in the alley next to the hockey house. People occasionally walking by, a scene not something that was needed, especially for Luke.

“You’re shocked to see me, on the campus of the college I go to? Interesting…”

“Oh come, don’t be like that y/n please! Look, I get it. I fucked up, in so many ways. The summers at the lake house, you coming to New Jersey, all of it. I broke my promises to you, and I wish I could go back and change it all.”

Luke’s eyes fell to the band on your wrist, watching as you snapped it against your skin. Hating that he was making you nervous or anxious, wishing that things could go back to normal for the two of you. But he knew he’d ruined that.

“Look I get it, if you didn’t want something serious. If I was just a casual fling or something. Then fine. But why waste my time? Why make me think you liked me?”

Luke grabbed your wrist, stopping you from snapping the band any longer.

“Y/n, none of that is true. It wasn’t that I thought you were a casual fling. I just, I couldn’t be the person you needed. With signing with the Devils and leaving here, leaving you. I just couldn't keep my promises. And it was wrong, to make you think I could. To keep you holding on if this wasn’t going to happen for us. And I’m so sorry to do that to you.”

You looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, believing his words as you pulled the band from your wrist. Setting it in his hand as you nodded your head with a sigh.

“I appreciate the apology, but it doesn’t change anything that happened. It doesn’t change how I feel, how hurt I am by all of it. So, you can take that bracelet back. I can’t keep it anymore and think about you every time I see it. That was a promise, that I could think of you and find comfort anytime I snapped it or saw it. But, I think that I need to move on. Because it’s just another broken promise at this point.”

Luke bit his tongue, knowing that despite what he wishes he could say, you don’t want to hear it. Holding the bracelet tight in his hand, he watched as you pushed past him. Heading back to the party, leaving him with only the bracelet as a memory. Slipping it on to his own wrist, immediately snapping it a few times to calm his emotions before returning to join the guys on the back porch.

[ghouldtime]

Neighbor! König Part 2

Part One

Part Three

After you expressed interest in his miniature collection, he actually actively OFFICIALLY invited you over one evening (and inside!)

It may not sound like much to most to be invited into someone's house but for him, it's the ultimate trust. His house is his private space, his sanctuary, where he goes to be without other people

He doesn't ever invite anyone inside unless necessary or they've truly gained his trust and being invited INTO his house, and actually into a shared space of one of the hobbies that matter the most to him?? Yeah, that's how he says he likes you

He's been working on his models and dioramas for so so long he's incredibly proud and can't help but to want to actually show them off to someone who wants to see

Usually most people don't care :( or think it's weird

But you've embraced it! You're so excited and he's over the moon, he's having the best day ever, if you do research and bring him gifts or show him some new ideas

He has exquisite attention to detail and INSISTS on everything being exactly the way he envisions it. And you notice! You actually notice. Which means you care about his hobbies, the work he puts in, and therefore him

It might be a bit early to say the L word but he's feeling certain ways

He may be a big dude but that doesn't mean he lacks fine motor skills. He's laying those tiny pieces of moss onto the cobble stones like a PRO

Miniatures allow him control over the environment, even if it's on a smaller scale, and offer a way to keep his hands and mind busy so he often throws himself into it

It also helps him relive happier memories. He's afraid of forgetting them and when he's stressing, it's his happy place because he can look at them and simply remember the things in life that matter

He'll ask you about a story you like or a favorite show or book or movie. That's his next miniature planned (in secret. Can't ruin the surprise, he needs to have it all perfect. He will either read the book, watch the movie, will study EVERY detail)

He will start to invite you over when he's having a painting night or is working on them. You don't have to follow his rules or do what he wants! He's just happy you're there and appreciating it

He will always have your favorite snacks and drinks in stock too. Need to make it fun and can't have you going hungry

If you want, he'll put on background noise! He's happy to make it immersive and to light a candle or put something in a diffuser to really set the scene you're going for. But he's perfectly happy to hangout with you as is

You'll finally get to hear him laugh and hear his really, really bad jokes. He has a dry sense of humor and most of what he says isn't even close to funny, he's awkward like that

But if you laugh? That's it, he's sold.

Time flies so fast when you're over, you don't even realize it's 3am

You don't need to go home! I know it's right across the street but he has a guest room and it saves you the trip in the morning. You have a whole nother round of characters to paint :)

Okay maybe it was an excuse so you could see the curtains he'd made and the pillows and he decorated the guest room with! Like actually tried decorating. They're made with love, that's what counts right?

Did he spray the pillows with his cologne before you came over? Maybe, but he won't ever admit to it

You can't complain. Not when he insists it's no trouble at all, you should stay over, and he does everything he can to make you comfortable.

And you're certainly not complaining when you wake up to breakfast in bed

He's so happy to finally have someone to share his life with, even if it's nothing official. He might not say it because words are hard, but he'll always show it in every way that he can 💚

If you look closely at the replica he made of his childhood home, you'll notice two figures in the kitchen who just so happen to look like you and him

Proud believer of König being just a guy! A guy with hobbies! A guy with a calm domestic life! Just because he's a private military contractor doesn't mean he's a constantly violent dude or a guy who lacks an immense amount of respect for boundaries. Sure, he gets really into his job when he does it, but that's his realm! That's his zone. That's why he's confident and having fun, he knows he's good

Outside of work, he's just a guy with a troubled childhood making the best of life and trying to find his own sense of belonging, happiness, and peace

Justice for König, he's not an insane perv or some freakytron or some stalker :(

[sunsdiary]

( @ ) YEE TO THE...WHORE? ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა . . .

toji fushiguro & gn reader · farmers market · domestic fluff · hubby!toji · step-son!megumi · suggestive (his tiddies are out) · family bonding · crack fic

toji barely dressed appropriately when the time called for it. you never knew if this was something he did intentionally or if it was out of pure laziness, but when your three year old step-son picked up on his unusual habits of wearing flip flops out in minus ten degree weather, that was when he changed.

for the better, you weren't sure. his fashion style was still questionable, nonetheless, but megumi started copying him.

"eh hehe, loo'! papa 'nd i- matchin'!"

megumi is starting to acknowledge his fathers accent more and more as the months grew by. it was practically part of his vocabulary by now, and at one point, you had to tell your husband off for swearing so much around him.

when megumi glances up at you, there's something similar to delight in his eyes as he holds his balled fists up in the air to cheer. he quickly notices you are also dressed for the occasion and all the toddler can do is stare.

"p-pwetty..." is what he manages to come out with.

you give him a warm smile that conveys a simple 'thank you', but that fades when you look over at toji who walks into the room.

silence ensues rapidly. you couldn't believe your eyes.

"seriously, toji?"

"wha'? ya don't like the fit?"

you think its quite ridiculous how toji is trying to flirt in front of his three year old son right now, flexing the muscles on his biceps and swaying his hips that enhance the large silvery buckle on his belt.

megumi's head goes back and forth between you and him as you cover your face with your fingertips. your forehead twitches into a frown.

megumi demanded to dress up to the upcoming farmers market. it was a common occurrence that the three of you went into the city every month, but this time they were also holding a cowboy festival.

toji stood before you, confused. he wore black denim jeans underneath his creamy-coloured chaps with boots that had large spurs on the heels. moving up, he wore an open leather coat.

...... ...........

...........................

...

did you forget to mention that that was it? that was all he was wearing.

oh, and of course, a cowboy hat with a red bandanna tied loosely around his neck to top it off.

"you couldn't of...put something underneath that, toji? what is wrong with you?"

"what do ya mean?" he gives you a quick and subtle wink.

you point directly at his exposed chest. "this"

it took a lot of convincing yourself to tear your eyes away from his hairy chest and happy trail, but you were in the presence of your step-son. his son.

toji never dressed appropriately when the time called for it...

"megs seems to approve of it."

but when the toddler heard the mention of his name, he frowns and speaks up articulating a sassy tone.

"nuh uh, papa say he want to impress you with his pepperoni."

the heat in your cheeks makes its way to your chest and you burst out laughing after further silence. toji's mouth twitches and turns slightly downward, a bright hue of red saturating the apples of his cheeks as he hears your laugh resonate through the room.

"ah... bean, ya ain't gotta expose papa like that...?" he rubs the back of his neck, looking away from you, almost confounded.

you weren't impressed, but maybe you were... well, by how bold and utterly ridiculous he was. you wish he took something serious for once.

"so what? ya gonna let me go out like this?"

"hell no. put some clothes on, tart."

"wha is a t-tart?"

megumi peaks up and your body twitches in reaction. the same hand as before comes up to your face, sighing loudly this time. toji breaks out into a laughter. megumi then proceeds to attach himself to your leg like a leech.

"have some dignity here, for your son, please, toji. unless you want him blurting out about how massive your 'pepperoni' is at school."

toji's laugh fades as quickly as it comes. he stutters, a little flustered, before mumbling something underneath his breath. he tristfully walks out of the room again.

when you watch him leave, he pulls a wedgie from his jeans and all you can do is snicker while shaking your head.

you crouch down to little megumi's level. "what are you most excited for megs?"

"hmmm hmmmmmm" he taps his chin adjusting his cowboy hat. toji listens to your voices fade into the background until he closes the door to your shared room.

"are my nips really that big?"

he proceeds to take his coat off, standing in front of your body length mirror, a deadpan expression forming on his face. he unconsciously runs his tongue over the scar on his lip.

the mirror was large, but even then, it still couldn't fit his whole frame into the reflection. it's not like he needed to see his own face anyways when he was checking himself out in the mirror.

toji sighs, turning his body a fractional amount to flex the muscles on his back.

"should i stop working out chest? i thought they liked tha"

[ninzied]

sunshine

a childhood enemies to lovers au. 500 word drabble for @hgejfmw-hgejhsf.

“I don’t know, Bug.”

He’s exhausted as hell from the flight home after a grueling finals week. He doesn’t want to make small talk with people he grew up with only to spend the last four years seeing how much they grew apart. It’s pretty much the worst thing he can think of right—

June says, too-casually, “Henry will be there.”

Scratch that. It just got even worse.

Obviously Alex has to go, now.

He hasn’t seen Henry since halfway through middle school, when the Fox family moved out of state. Mister fancy-pants “Oh, I’m on the cul-de-sac” Henry, who always had the cooler bikes, and out-sold Alex at every Girl Scout thing they went to with their sisters. Henry, who was good at everything and got along with everyone. Everyone, that is, except for Alex.

Henry, who’d stayed friends with Pez down the street, is exactly how Alex remembered but worse. He’s too fucking tall. His shoulders are so broad they’re borderline ridiculous. He—

“Alex.”

Fuck. His voice got even deeper. Fuck. Alex scowls.

“Charming as ever,” Henry remarks. At a pointed glance from Pez, he clears his throat, then adds, “Taller, though. Unless we’re speaking relatively, in which case—”

Is this guy for fucking real?

Alex opens his mouth.

“Henry’s the same, though, right, baby brother?” June butts in. “Remember that camp photo? The one where you said he looked like sunshine?”

“Can you not?” Alex objects. “Like he thinks the sun shines out of his ass, is what I said.”

“No,” says June, “I don’t think that was it.” She turns to Henry. “Pretty sure he kept it, by the way.”

“June,” hisses Alex. “How do you even know about that?”

Henry’s blushing. The stupid sun is in his hair again and he looks so unfairly fucking pretty that Alex wants to— wait. What?

Oh. Alex kind of forgets to breathe for a moment. Oh.

“Right, we’ll leave you to it,” says Pez. He takes June by the arm.

Henry shifts. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was always too panicked by your evident dislike of me to not act like a total knob when you were around. Suppose that hasn’t changed either.”

Alex swallows. “I never disliked you. I just. Always figured you thought you were too good to hang out with me.”

“My gran did think that,” Henry admits, looking sad. “She was very strict.”

Alex remembers the general shape of her, a grim shadow in the curtain whenever he rode his bike too-close to their cul-de-sac. “Was?”

“She doesn’t get a say anymore.” Henry looks at him. “Does that, erm. Mean you wanted to? Hang out?”

“Did you?” Alex counters.

If Henry had pigtails, Alex could’ve pulled those and not been more fucking obvious.

“Yes,” says Henry, simply. “Perhaps we could start now? Make up for lost time?”

“For the record,” says Alex, “I really, really didn’t dislike you.”

Henry’s flush deepens. He’s smiling. Fuck. “For the record,” he says, “I kept that photo, too.”

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

In which you officially become a couple.

Inumaki Toge has a crush on you.

Technically, it's not weird.

Technically he's 'allowed' to. 

You're engaged after all. Even though you're much too young to get married anytime soon, and even though you are arranged by your clans after all.

Still, he can't help but feel nervous around you. His cheeks tinting pink whenever you talk about something passionately, your smile brightening up his days. He's too young to understand actually loving someone yet, but he's well aware that he very much likes you.

However, he has no idea how to tell you, or let you know.

Thinking about telling you has his hands getting sweaty and cause a fierce blush to spread across his face.

Besides, he can't talk to you. Not like a normal person at least. No matter how much he wants to. Apart from saying your name, he still has to stick to onigiri ingredients.

Communication between the two of you has been getting better, but you're learning to understand without him translating on his phone.

He doesn't mind translating. He often types out entire texts of speech for you when you're having a conversation about something interesting. But it does make communicating his feelings harder.

He wants the words to come from him directly, not by him showing you his phone screen and blinking at you nervously. He has to figure something out.

Body language will have to do, he supposes. He can't tell you, but perhaps he can show you.

Or maybe, he just needs to ask a certain someone for advice. Someone who has probably asked out a lot of girls before.

-

Gojo Satoru blinks at his future student in surprise.

" What?" 

He's heard of Toge's engagement to you. How could he not? He's one of the big three clans after all. 

However, of all things, he doesn't understand the hassle. You're already engaged. Why not just immediately get married? Besides, of all things he's expected Toge to ask, this had been the very last one.

" Just ask her- "

Toge has to blink in annoyance for Satoru to understand.

" Oh. Right. Okay, new plan!"

-

A few days later, that plan is finally put into action.

You're not in the same schools, so you're meeting up after school. He's already waiting for you at the park, in the city near your school. In his hands, he holds a chinese lantern plant. Originally, Gojo's plan included flowers, but he didn't necessarily like flowers. They weren't permanent. These were. They'd blossom along with your love. Hopefully for a very long time- Unless you'd reject him.

He swallows, hoping the best.

" Toge!" 

Turning his head from where he had been staring at the plant, he turns to face you, a smile immediately taking over his features. He shifts the plant to one of his arms, using the other to take your palm in his in greeting, his thumb soothing over your skin.

You smile at him, the tips of your ears turning pink like they always do when he has his full attention on you.

" Hi. Oh, that's a pretty plant, what's it for?"

" Salmon cod roe."

' Wait.' 

You blink, watching as he fumbles through his pockets. Eventually, he pulls out an envelope. You're not stupid, nor oblivious. You've caught onto his interest in you since the start. Besides, admittedly, you've grown to like him too.

Nearly a year has passed since you first met him, and you're pleased to say that he's the sweetest person you've ever met. He's considerate, attentive, and kind. (Not to mention extra sweet when you're on your period.) Truthfully, you like spending time with him, and you want to be closer to him too.

He hands you the envelope, his eyes wide as he signals for you to open it.

You do so.

' Dear Y/N,

I know our engagement is arranged and that you were originally not looking forward to spending the rest of your time with someone you couldn't choose yourself. I also know that we originally agreed to see how things go, and to be honest, I like how things are going. I like spending time with you. I like how you're learning my own language, and that it's not holding you back from spending time with me, and I really like who you are as a person. I'd like to spend more time with you. You're always running through my mind, and I want to be with you all the time.You're sweet, but also playful and patient. I'm sorry I can't tell you because of Cursed Speech, but I really like you  and want to be with you, because we want to, and not because we're arranged.

Ps. Please don't feel forced to return my feelings because of our engagement

Pps. The plant is for you. I've been told that pretty girls like pretty flowers, and this one made me think of you : ) '

By the end of his heartfelt letter, Toge is much more nervous than before, and you're grinning widely.

" I'd love to be with you!" You beam, jumping at him and pulling him into a hug.

He lets out a breath of relief, pulling you in close and returning your affection gladly.

Finally, he gets to call you his girl.

Extra:

" Okay, easy, this is what you gotta do!" 

Toge is listening attentively to his future teacher.

" First! Get an airplane. I don't remember where you can get one, but there's one that like flies those banners- Which brings me to two! Which is actually one, but whatever. Get a banner. Or make one. One of those cheese ones that simply says 'go out with me' should do the trick. Three! Which actually could be zero, but- rose petals. Everywhere. Girls love that. You can choose any location, but a beach should be great, even though that's really far away. Might want to drive there. Last, maybe hire a mariachi band. Or like a violin player-"

Toge blinks at Gojo as he continues talking. Toge is only 14. How would he even be able to afford any of that?

" Bonito flakes."

Gojo glances at him, finally shutting up. He rolls his eyes, before shrugging his shoulders.

" Ah right, you're only fourteen. Then maybe go for the easy route. Flowers and ask her out. Maybe you can hold the banner up yourself?" 

Or, maybe a love letter? Girls like that, right?

Liked this? There's more of this au in my Masterlist : )

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Any way you want it

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 4

Prompts: Slap & Loud

Rated: E

Words: 1,282

Tags: Nudity; Light BDSM; Blindfolds; Sensory play; Slapping; Dirty talk; Top Eddie; Bottom Steve

Steve doesn’t know for how long he's been here. It's hard to tell with the blindfold on, the way his mind has gone fuzzy and soft, but his legs are starting to ache from keeping his kneeling position and the ropes binding his wrists behind his back are starting to chafe, so it must've been a while. He supposes he could call out, ask Eddie to end it, but the mere thought has his hackles rising and his teeth gritting, so he doesn’t. Instead, he counts his breaths, tries to focus on the crackle of the fireplace and the pleasant warmth of the flames on his aching limbs.

“How are we doing, baby? Desperate yet?” 

The words tear an involuntary gasp from Steve’s throat. The last thing he remembers is Eddie closing the bedroom door, the sound of his boots thunking down the stairs. How far gone has he been that he didn't hear him return? 

“Desperate?” is what he says. He's a little proud of himself for how his voice comes out, all casual disinterest with only the barest of trembles. “Bored, more like. I thought the goal of this was to make me horny, not tired.” 

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie chuckles. He's closer than before, even though Steve didn't hear him move. Did he take off the boots? Steve fidgets in his spot, straining his neck and trying to peek out from under the blindfold, but it sits snugly and won't budge. “That's the problem with you, y’know. You're too stubborn for your own good.”

A hand wraps around his throat, pulling him back against a warm, naked body. Eddie’s cock presses into the space between his shoulder blades, thick and fully hard, and Steve gives a strangled moan as he feels himself twitch to attention. Something clinks, like a glass being set down on the mantelpiece, and he frowns at the sharp, earthy scent that hits his nostrils. 

“Wait, did you get into my dad's good whisky?” 

Eddie laughs. Something touches Steve's collarbone, something hard and sharp-edged and cold and he hisses at the sting of it.

“Why not?” Eddie says, slowly dragging the ice cube down, cold droplets catching in Steve’s chest hair. “Why shouldn't I drink his booze? I'm in the house he never comes back to, in the bedroom he never uses, and I have his perfect golden boy at my feet. I think your daddy has made it abundantly clear he doesn't want any of these things. I, though?” 

The ice cube drags over his left nipple, and Steve just barely manages to keep in his yelp. 

“I want it all, baby boy. The question is: What do you want?” 

He rolls Steve’s hardened nipple between two fingers, the pain only heightened by the lingering cold of the ice- … and then he's gone. Steve is left in the dark, floundering and disoriented and desperately hard, and this time, he can't contain his whimper. 

A hand grabs his jaw, from the front this time, and he smells whisky and cigarette smoke and the heady, thick scent of Eddie’s arousal. Steve moans and opens his mouth, saliva pooling on his tongue. When he tries to lean in, Eddie digs his nails into his skin and holds him in place. 

“What. Do. You. Want?” he repeats, every word sharp. “You're not getting anything unless you tell me.” 

He gives Steve’s jaw a brief, warning shake, and Steve’s cock twitches against thin air. Eddie waits. A second, two, while the fire crackles merrily and the cold water on Steve’s skin slowly goes warm. And Steve still can’t see him, but he knows he must be a sight to behold. The black lines of his tattoos contrasting with pale skin, dark curls basked in a halo of red and orange by the firelight, the smug smile playing on those perfect, plush lips. He wishes he could see. 

He could say as much, he guesses - except the thought makes something unbearably soft stir behind his chest, so he doesn’t. 

“You,” he says instead, struggling to form words around the hand still clenching down on his jaw. “Want you.” 

“Aw, honey,” Eddie coos, all fake sweetness. His grip doesn’t ease. “But you have me already. I’m right here with you, ain’t I?” 

His thumb shifts, the pad of it pressing down on Steve’s bottom lip without quite slipping in, and it’s all he can do not to cry out in frustration. His hands twitch in their restraints.

“Your cock,” he grits out, humiliation prickling at the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, he’s glad for the blindfold. 

“Pardon?” Eddie says. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that.” 

“Fuck you,” Steve snaps. “You know exactly what I-” 

The slap comes without warning. One second, Eddie’s hand is on his jaw, and one moment later, it’s gone, only for his open palm to connect with Steve’s face. The impact isn’t hard, but it still echoes loudly over the crackle of the fire, leaving behind a hot, stinging feeling in its wake. 

“Oh, look at that, he can speak up,” Eddie drawls. His hand fists into the hair at the base of Steve’s neck, tilting his head up. “Now listen to me, baby. You’re gonna tell me what you want, and you’re gonna tell it to me loud and clear. Do you understand?” 

Steve bites down on his bottom lip to keep in the sob building at the back of his throat. 

“I can always leave again,” Eddie says. “Give you another hour or so to-” 

“No, please,” Steve blurts. He doesn't know why, but the thought of Eddie leaving him alone again fills him with a horrible, cold dread. “Your cock. Fuck, I need- … I want your cock, want it inside me.” 

It feels so weird, saying it out loud. Embarrassing and mortifying and freeing and beautiful all at once. His voice cracks pathetically around the last syllable, but he can't bring himself to mind - not when Eddie makes the softest, fondest sound and cups his face in both hands. 

“That was so good, honey,” he praises, and Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. He can't quite tell if it's a sob or a laugh, but when Eddie strokes the pads of his thumbs over his cheeks, he realizes that they are covered in wet tracks. “Where do you want it?”

“Everywhere,” Steve babbles, the words rushing out of him in a mad tumble, now that the dam has broken. “Wanna suck you off, want you to come on my face, want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me into the mattress and fill me up with your-” 

"Whoa, sweetheart,” Eddie says, pressing a long, chaste kiss to his lips to stop the barrage. “I'd love to do all that, but let's take care of one thing at a time?” 

Steve whines again, the prospect of having to wait, of having to choose when he needs everything, everywhere, at once, sending fresh tears of frustration to his eyes. 

“How about,” Eddie says, lips ghosting over his mouth, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, “if I fuck your face first, until I'm nice and hard for you? And then, when that's done, I get us on that bed and you can ride my cock until we both can't come anymore? How does that sound?” 

“So fucking good,” Steve breathes. “Can we start right now? Please, I need-” 

“Of course we can, baby,” Eddie coos, slipping a tender hand into Steve’s hair in the same movement that he pushes his cock into his mouth, stuffing him deliciously full. “See? Good boys get everything they want. They just need to know how to ask for it.” 

More smutty September

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

I’m by no means any sort of expert on any animal’s behavior so please feel free to ignore this random observation/ opinion.

But something I find interesting about people defending Moo Deng’s treatment is the frequent assertion that her keepers love her, as if that excuses everything. I honestly don’t doubt that her keepers love her, but that doesn’t mean their actions are appropriate.

To me it’s reminiscent of someone cornering and petting a dog against it’s will because “I just LOVE dogs!!!”. Loving the animal doesn’t mean you can’t inadvertently harm them with your actions.

Idk, I just have a lot of feelings on this and this was my attempt to sum them up. Hope it makes some sort of sense 😅

Oh yeah tell me about it! I appreciate you sharing this because I feel like I'm going insane when I see people being given the same information as I have and drawing a totally different conclusion from it.

Like... it's not okay just because they harass her a little bit. That's... not how that works.

Also I find the "trust the keeper" argument super ironic coming from someone who worked with dolphins - the species in human care that EVERYONE has an opinion on. And you'll tell people "hey, trust me on this. I see these dolphins every day. They participate in their own health care and don't do something if they don't want to. They are objectively in good welfare based on all the current data we have of what that looks like. I do behaviour records every day to prove this. And if I didn't think they were doing well, I'd be fighting tooth and nail to improve their lives or I would leave my job." (which I have done, btw)

And I'll still be told I'm enslaving dolphins and I do it for the money (when it was free labour - yay for animal industry exploitation - or absolutely bugger all). Trust the keeper... unless I watch a biased documentary packed full of misinformation. Then I know *more* than the keeper will and the keeper is just a moron who doesn't need a science degree and years of unpaid internship experience for this job!

But if it's a cute animal that has no preconceptions established of their welfare in human care? It's free game to coo over. Sure the keeper just dropped that squirming, panicking baby hippo he was trying to force into a tub! But he has so much experience because someone on reddit said so! It's actually all just desentisation! (not how desensisation works ever)

Can you tell I'm frustrated? Yeah...

Anyway I am usually the first in line to defend a zoo and their keepers - I know it's not easy to work in a zoo that's underresourced or in an education vaccum. But I'm going to call out bad handling when I see it. Especially when it's reinforced by social media clout and is being encouraged to continue by people justifying it as "desenitisation" or "actions of an experienced keeper."

[pricegouge]

Haul

Part Six MDNI

Master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

chapter cw: abuse, starvation, sensory deprivation, noncon mentioned in passing

This morning, however, you've barely managed to soap yourself up before Gaz is ducking in, whispering something in Ghost's ear which you can't make out over the steady drum of water. It's quick, whatever it is, and Simon nods once in understanding before Gaz shuffles back out, too rushed to spare you much beyond a parting glance. Your eyes find Simon's again, any hope of asking what that was about dying in your throat when you see the quiet intensity burning there, stronger even than what's usual for him. You hurry through the motions without needing to be told.

Simon's bad. Johnny's worse. Kyle is at least nice to you so long as you can keep your sniffling and whining at bay long enough to let him forget you don't want to be here, let alone beneath him. John continues to be taciturn at best. They take you through your days in shifts mostly, a rotation which reminds you of cogs on a wheel.

You don't notice the way you've come to think of them as one collective, impenetrable force until you catch their first mistake - too late for you to have done anything about it, but a mistake all the same.

It's not unusual for Simon to join you in the bathroom now, rubbing his cock as he watches you pee because he likes the way it visibly embarrasses you. Normally he leans heavily against the sink, tutting at you threateningly anytime you try to pull the curtain closed and running the hot water intermittently just to watch your nipples tighten and your skin erupt in goosebumps. It slows the process, makes your product coagulate enough that your showers often get drawn out into a long process. It's almost nice, insofar as it's a fairly reliable part of your day when you don't have to worry about much beyond intermittent douses of cold water. (Unless, of course, one of the others joins you, or Simon decides he's had enough of teasing himself, steps in after you to warm you up with heavy palms and stinging skin.)

This morning, however, you've barely managed to soap yourself up before Gaz is ducking in, whispering something in Ghost's ear which you can't make out over the steady drum of water. It's quick, whatever it is, and Simon nods once in understanding before Gaz shuffles back out, too rushed to spare you much beyond a parting glance. Your eyes find Simon's again, any hope of asking what that was about dying in your throat when you see the quiet intensity burning there, stronger even than what's usual for him. You hurry through the motions without needing to be told.

After, as he follows you through the warehouse, you're yanked to a halt by his firm grip on your arm when your feet automatically turn toward the small kitchen area, your stomach already growling expectantly despite the lackluster meal no doubt waiting for you. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Simon rumbles, deep enough you can feel it against the arm he has pinned to his chest.

"To… eat?" It's not a statement, the confusion in your eyes as you peer up at him making your request for guidance clear. Subservient works on him, you've found, even better when visibly affected. He's similar to Johnny in that - almost seems to like the intimation that you're just a little play thing for them, though Johnny prefers the reminders to come in bite shaped bruises on his forearms, or red handprints on his cheek. (You don't like doing it - not out of any feelings of remorse, of course, but because the retaliation from Johnny and the punishment from John is rarely ever worth it - but you've certainly noticed how much it endears you to him, in some perverse way.)

"Don't remember you earning breakfast."

You gawp a moment, eyes darting around the warehouse as if to check for an audience. It wouldn't be the first time they've taken you right in the middle of the big suite, but that doesn't make the prospect any more appealing. Besides, it's unlike Simon, who you've gathered prefers the close intimacy of the basement, or the bathroom. Anywhere he can set his back to a wall. So it's unexpected but you know better than to complain, your hands finding his belt buckle quickly, suppressing even more confusion when you slide your palm over his placket and find him soft.

"Fuckin' slag," Simon groans, his grip sliding down your arm to wrench your hand away. He carries the motion through, turning you away from him again before shoving into your back unceremoniously and sending you stumbling in the direction of John's office. (Empty, you note distractedly. Odd.)

"Have I done something?" you ask, stomach still growling despite the sudden turmoil of your morning. When Simon doesn't answer, you chance a glance over your shoulder and find him staring at your ass with the same hunger you were moments ago ready to impart on some cold packet oatmeal. "Simon, it's breakfast time."

"You eat when we say you eat," he reminds you. "Open the hatch."

The dusty rug that covers the trapdoor seems to return your frown. Your fingers itch, irritated, the sense memory of its filthy low pile already sullying your freshly cleaned cuticles. Maybe that's why you fight back, or maybe because the set schedule you've fallen into is the only sense of normalcy you've found in this terrible place and you're loath to give it up. "I'm hungry."

Simon's eyes haven't felt so heavy since that night in the bar. "I don't -."

"What's the problem?"

John's voice is hard to mistake ever, even less so when he's visibly angry. His fingers smooth his mustache, coarse palms scratching against his chops in the same movement. An oddly pensive habit you've never seen him make, here at odds with the agitated way he shifts his weight from foot to foot. You squint between the two large men, suddenly alert.

"Betty here wants breakfast before she goes back down." The term gives you pause, not having heard it in a while. Simon doesn't often talk to you directly.

A quiet whistle sound breaks the ensuing silence as John sucks a breath through his teeth. He looks red, pissed, brow low and heavy as his voice when he tells you to listen to Simon. But you're feeling a little brave today, evidently, anger mounting because you need to eat. They said they'd feed you and now it's time so why can't you just get some damn grub when it smells like they've already made it anyway -.

"I'm hungry."

The tension that follows is palpable, both men drawing slightly closer until you're wedged between them, a rock and a hard place. Neither relents an inch, gazes blank of anger now. 

Just cold, cruel apathy.

"So you've said," John rumbles, his voice so poisonous you'd flinch back on reflex if not for Simon's looming presence behind you. "Yet I do not care. Keep acting like a brat and I'll let you starve to death," he reminds you.

As if to show what it thinks of that, your stomach chooses that moment to growl alarmingly loud. You would laugh about it under any normal circumstances, but the way the men continue to glare down at you has your eyes tearing up for another reason. It's a stupid thing to cry over but you've never handled change well. You think you've done a pretty good job of adapting so far, but the sudden reminder that they can upheave your entire life again any time they want settles ill in your stomach, makes a home there among the empty pangs. You just want some toast or something, can't understand why they won't give it to you when you've been so good for them, have done everything they've asked. Your whimpering is pathetic, you know, so if anything you expect to draw out Kyle from wherever he's hiding, maybe earn some sympathy from the only one among them who even bothers to pretend not to like your tears. It's why you're so surprised when Ghost's heavy hand lands on your shoulder, gives you a light shove toward the hatch.

"If you get downstairs now, maybe you'll still earn your dinner."

Earn your dinner. It rubs you wrong. John too, apparently. "No," he informs Simon flatly. 

In the weeks since your abduction, you've prided yourself on your self preservation instincts, on your ability to bite back the kinds of quips and jokes that get the comedic relief killed off second or third in a horror movie. But in that moment, the only driving force at the wheel is your hunger and there's no staying your tongue this time. "Fine, then no sex." But your bravado flags before you can even finish speaking, John's eyes burning with fury in a face gone unnaturally stiff and drawn. When you continue, your voice is thin and reedy, the words much braver than how you feel. "That's the deal, isn't it? Sex for food?"

"Betty -."

"The deal was, you make yourself available and we'll keep you fed. But we don't need permission, and you don't need to eat." John's voice is as cold as his expression. He towers over you, so close that even your knees touch, his boot shoved between your bare feet. "How's that for a new deal?"

It's hard to answer for the way your throat feels like it's closing. A pathetic noise boils out of you, too thin to be mistaken for words. John's patience snaps and he hauls you impossibly closer, heavy palm gripping your chin to drag you up onto your toes. His thumb slots under your bad cheek, presses too harshly into your molars. Trying to alleviate the weight, you shuffle your stance and find the steel toe of his boots between your feet. He hardly seems to notice when you hike yourself up onto them, too occupied by shaking your head back and forth, his smirk at the way it makes your lips pout nothing more than a cold grimace. It's hard to balance there, both of your bellies getting in the way you. Your stance falters, panic bubbling in your belly when you lean away from John in a way you know he'll interpret as a slight. And then Simon's solid frame is behind you, bracing you between them. You'd sag in relief if you could, but John's grip remains steadfast, jerking you about as he mutters to himself something like 'No?' and 'You don't like that?'

Gaz's appearance in the door seems to startle all three of you. He takes a moment to look the scene over before nodding at John once, eyes seeming to convey something urgent. John huffs a breath and shoves you back toward Simon as he steps away. The larger man's hands hold you tight, fingers burning brands into the meat of your upper arms. John waves Gaz away without even looking at him before lowering himself to one knee with a grunt and rolling the carpet away. Dust clouds the room, dancing in the warm yellow sun spilling through the skinny window across the room. You'd think with how often the rug is moved, it would be somewhat clean by now but you suppose there's no end of dust and dirt getting tracked in. You've also never heard a vacuum run, but that's not very surprising. John stands as he opens the hatch. It would be one fluid motion if not for the way his knees crack or the way he grunts and holds his back when he straightens out. Briefly, you imagine kicking him right in his pained joints and then quickly hide your huff of laughter behind a pathetic sob. Neither man seems fooled, but neither seem to mind either, John's face much less apoplectic than it had been only moments before. 

And then he motions down the stairs and Simon gives you no time to act on the order before pushing you down them.

Your knees hit first, blessedly. With the grip Simon still has on your one arm, the instinct to protect your head is delayed until you can wrench free. You tuck as best you can, momentum carrying you over until your shoulder takes the brunt of the next blow, legs ragdolling along after. The stairs are unfinished, the risers never put in. A tumble later and your hand slips past one, catching behind the tread. Your body continues past, yanking your arm until it feels like it will tear but then your heels find cold tile and you dig in as best you can, feet slipping across the slick surface a few times before your toes find grout and dig in, overgrown nails catching hard enough that when your weight slumps down and your toes curl under, yelp as one tears from its bed. Above you, John's mean laugh rumbles down the shaft like an earthquake, bouncing off the walls until it blends with the sounds of heavy boots following you. Simon looms above, blocking out the light when he ducks past the hanging bulb. You gulp, pushing against the tile until you can work your arm free but Simon figures it out first, crouching down to pull on your shoulder, yanking you to your feet once he's no longer at risk of pulling your arm out of socket.

Blood rushes to your head with the sudden change, vision tunneling until the shadows in the corners seem to creep out and touch you. It's hard doing as Simon wants when you feel like you're about to pass out and your feet keep sliding uselessly against the tile, but Simon doesn't seem to be in much of an asking mood anyway. He spins you roughly, one arm holding you up while the other drags your door open. You find it odd you can't hear it's creaking and then realize you can't hear anything with the way your heartbeat pounds in your ears. You're shoved unceremoniously through the door, poor abused knees colliding into the tile with enough force to make your jaw rattle. The door slams shut behind you, the rush of air catching on the flimsy material of your shirt. You whip around to see if Simon has followed and sigh in relief to find yourself alone - 

Only to scream and groan in frustration when they take away your lights, palms slapping uselessly against the cold floor. Your fit fades as your hearing returns, violent but quick. After the burst of adrenaline, the aches in your body begin to make themselves known, a cycle you're becoming uncomfortably familiar with. You sniffle as you crawl towards your bed, fingers groping around ahead of you until you find the nearest leg. You'd been hoping for clean sheets today, the ones you have now still smelling unpleasantly like Soap. You're fairly certain you've pissed that possibility goodbye, however, so you settle in for a long day in the dark as you inventory your aches. 

There's nothing too drastic, you don't think. Bruising under your knees and along your back, but you'd managed to protect your head well enough and the shoulder that had been caught was not the same shoulder you were still trying to heal from the crash so you were thankful for that. Even if John's temper didn't fade enough to allow Kyle to come look at you, you weren't too concerned about anything beyond a general stiffness.

But it's a small consolation when the hours come and go and you continue to go hungry. 

It's useless to count time in the dark like this, you've learned. Not that you were being punished regularly, but it's the kind of thing that doesn't need to be recreated in a lab to know - in the pitch dark, with no noise, the only interval you have to gauge the passing of the hours are the cycles of nausea and hunger you fall through, but even those eventually peter out into a general fatigue. Sleep is a reprieve but it's confusing, your brain crawling out of its depths with the expectation of food and sunshine each time. When you ring to use the restroom, no one answers. You turn your next card over after you've been reduced to using the bucket four times, the normal amount of breaks you need in one day. After some deliberation, you pull the card back out and tear a notch in the corner - your personal indication that you're not certain of the interval. 

You're even less certain when you hear a scratching at your door hours later. It's one of them, must be, but you weren't woken by a heavy tread on the stairs for once and there's no helping the slight flicker of hope which tries to ignite in your stomach, kindled by the cramps of your hunger pangs. Is it possible help has come? Is Jodie Foster about to come through that door and fail to perform a full sweep? Sinking to the floor, you crawl closer, suppressing winces of pain when your achy toe takes your weight. The scratching noises stay consistent, a quiet rhythm you can't quite discern the source of. As you draw nearer, a low hum begins to accompany it, shaped around the edges familiarly enough, patterned and lilting almost like -

"'Las' night as ah lay on my pillow.'"

Language. Singing? "Johnny?"

He's quiet, drawing you in closer just so you can make sense of the words what slip through the soundproof batting. "'Las' night as ah lay on my bed.'"

"Johnny, please, did you bring food? I'm starving."

"'Las' night as ah lay on my pillow, ah dreamt tha' my Bonnie was -.'"

"Soap!"

John's voice tears down the stairs with so much force it sets you scrambling, convinced the door's about to cave in on you. There's a shuffle of limbs and thunder of boots, a series of thuds telling you all you need to know about how John is handling this transgression. You hear a loud huff of breath, someone getting the wind knocked out of them, and then Johnny's whining drowns out the low hiss of John's voice as he berates the younger man, a duet somehow more sinister than Johnny's impromptu performance. There's another shuffle, you think maybe one of them falls, and then a loud crack of skin on skin has Johnny running up the stairs, his heaving breath disappearing with him.

Stillness follows, a stretch of silence that lingers so long you begin to wonder if John is even still out there. Your pulse continues to thunder, the only sound in the room. Logistically you know you'd be able to pick up any other noises if there were any because it's really not that loud but you're tired, and hungry, and confused. So you shuffle closer, callused skin scraping against the grit of the floor, and lay your ear flat against the batting, just as you had when trying to listen for Soap. 

But John doesn't bother whispering when he speaks, voice loud and echoing in the shaft of the staircase. "I hear you begging my boys to help you cheat your punishment again, I'll have that clever little tongue out, understood?"

Defeated, you just slump further into the foam that pads the door, nodding along pathetically as tears soak into the foam. It suffices, whatever device he's been using to learn about your tally system and listen to your crying evidently good enough to pick up the movement. The stairs creak under his weight as he finally retreats, the dull thud of the trap door closing silencing everything after. You want to lay still and succumb to the hopelessness and the frustration after, but the feeling of John's eyes on you still is nearly physical, goosebumps erupting over your skin the more you think about it. You're not surprised, of course, but it's a suspicion no one ever wants confirmed. 

After that your bed becomes a new type of sanctuary, the blankets your only real chance of hiding from your captors. John keeps you down there another whole day as far as you can tell, waking you up on the third day with warm oatmeal and a fresh sliced apple with cinnamon. He's back to being charming, a big, tight smile crinkling his eyes as he coos at you condescendingly about what a mess the last few days have been. He doesn't make you earn your underwear, says he's just happy to get you out of the dirty pair you have on. 

Above ground, the sun hurts your eyes where it eeks into the corners of the warehouse. It's late morning from the looks of it, the day having already started. Simon's gone, probably out working. In his absence it's Kyle who escorts you about your morning schedule. He's nice enough to let you shower in peace, scrub the set in salt of days old sweat off on your own. Doesn't make it any less embarrassing, John apparently having decided you've lost your curtain privileges. 

You're not sure what to expect after your wash seeing as John's already brought you breakfast. You're still hungry but you know better than to presume now and when Kyle sees you eyeing the kitchen hopefully he just shakes his head at you sympathetically. 

"Too much too soon, luv. Don't want to make you sick."

God forbid.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised when he and Soap crowd you into the second office, the one they've converted into a living room of sorts. It's nothing to write home about, just a ratty, sunken couch and a TV that produces more static than quality picture, but it's a welcome change from your dark, damp room. And after two days of overwhelming loneliness, even their hands on you aren't as unbearable as they could be - especially not when they treat you so nice, Gaz's clever fingers wringing pleasure from you even as you struggle against Johnny's hold to fight it. John remains in his office, apparently uninterested in the sappy romance they put on, for which you're grateful. You don't want to anger him again but you're also not yet able to look him in the eye. Perhaps that's why your gaze wanders when Kyle finally marches you back long hours later, drifting disinterestedly over the racking as you note changes, pallets that have come and gone. 

It sticks with you for some reason, the odd dance of products through their doors. You chalk it up to boredom, playing round after round of doomed solitaire with the remaining cards in your deck while you wind down the clock on your day. But after, when you've resurfaced for dinner, you reassess the pallets from your perch on John's lap critically, coaching your expression into one of neutrality when you realize the orange wrap that clings to one of them doesn't match any other skids in the warehouse. It sits innocuously under a pendant light, highlighter color unmarred by dirt and grime. It's new, and it wasn't wrapped by them.

You have to bury yourself in blankets later when you mull it over, scared your face will betray the small kernel of hope you feel when John checks in on you. It's hard not to get too excited when you know very well one of the boys themselves could have brought the skid in from another warehouse, but the more you think of it, the more it makes sense that they sometimes get deliveries from other drivers. You're willing to bet it's the whole reason they were rushing you to your room the other day, but even if you're wrong about that, it's almost a guarantee it will happen one day. You try to picture your knight in shining armor, yet another frumpy driver just trying to make it to his next stop. It doesn't instill much confidence, but you're desperate enough to take what you can get. You'd even suffer another night in a trailer if it meant a daring escape.

The thought of it would make you laugh if you weren't scared John was listening. This whole time you'd been thinking their occupation made their hobby that much easier for them, importing cargo built into every inch of their business model. You could kick yourself for never realizing the inverse of that before now, how easily you could slip out if only you could bide your time, build a plan.

Shipping and export, just more freight to be moved along.

[ckret2]

If Goldie was a normal human, unrelated to bill, would bill want to hit that

Well, she'd have the prettiest eyes he's ever seen on a human, she's got that going for her—right up there with some of the sexiest frogs on Earth—but aside from that, the rest of her body is just human. And unless they're fascinatingly mutated, all humans are about a 5.5/10 on looks for him. Like, the whole species. Uniformly. So her looks don't really make a difference. The frog eyes knock her up to a 6/10 but having a 0.5 point lead on the entire rest of humanity isn't really that much help.

The answer rides entirely on personality.

By "normal human" do you mean normal human? As in lives a Regular Human Life has some random generic Regular Human Personality, with normal human traits and behaviors like "participates in capitalism by having a job" and "goes on dates in the hopes of finding romance" and "remembers that Thanksgiving exists" and "thinks wearing makeup has any actual impact on her appearance even though she looks just as human with or without it" and "doesn't have any delusions of grandeur"?

If that's the case, then whether or not he'd want to hit it comes down to this: has she been recruited into one of his cults? Does she literally worship him? If the answer is yes, then yeah, he'd want to hit that, because he's got the world's most grandiose praise kink.

On the other hand, by "normal human" do you mean born and raised on earth like any other human—and yet, for whatever nature/nurture reason you want to imagine, still ended up with the exact same personality, opinions, and beliefs as Bill?

Because if you mean THAT, then Bill would go "that human's a FREAK! Down to party, up for chaos, and has all the right political opinions! How can somebody be SO social and yet SO misanthropic at the same time? I LOVE it! And talk about your secretly insecure egomaniacs, wow, this little lunatic is desperate for fame and popularity, I could get her to do anything if I promised she'd be famous for it. Most pathetically manipulable human I've ever seen, she's an even easier target than Ford. Bang her, hench her, get her to build a portal, invite her to the party, bang her again while we're both too high to feel our faces. Bam. She'll have me on earth in half a year and if I offer her a minor demigodhood I won't even need to lie to her about what it's for, she'd probably let her own dimension burn in exchange for three days of youtube viral fame"

And he would NOT have the self-awareness necessary to realize how viciously he just dragged himself

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Jaehaerys i Targaryen concept.

Sure! Sorry it's gendered, I couldn't figure out how to write this without making darling a lady :(

Additional Thoughts

Yandere! Jaehaerys I Targaryen Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Potential Targcest, Overprotective behavior, Medieval topics, Marriage, Subtle manipulation, Possessive behavior, Pregnancy, Gender roles, Mature themes, Isolation, Imprisonment, Morbid themes, Dubious turned forced relationship.

Well, there's two ways I think this could work.

You replace Alysanne in canon, making you the sister of Jaehaerys whom he's loved since you were both young (Normal for Targaryens).

Or if you don't wish to replace Alysanne, you can be a childhood friend Jaehaerys fell for instead when he was hiding from Maegor.

Regardless, Jaehaerys is a very loyal man and king to his beloved.

You two grew up alongside one another, even surviving Maegor's rule together hidden by the Baratheons..

When Jaehaerys was crowned king, there was only ever one bride he wanted.

You.

He's polite, wise, and caring towards you.

If you chose option one, then you could even bring the dragons into it.

Vermithor and Silverwing are the only canonical dragon pair we know of.

In canon, it's said they loved one another just as much as their riders loved each other.

If you picked option one, you'd have Silverwing as your dragon, which only proves to Jaehaerys you're meant to be when he sees how close your dragons are.

If not, no worries, in option two you are his loyal childhood friend.

He trusts you more than many, in this HC, he'd love you instead of Alysanne.

His yandere behavior is subtle.

Jaehaerys mostly just comes off as a man who is completely loyal and enamored with you, his wife.

Even when his mother and her Baratheon husband tries to betroth him to another...

He clings to you.

Ever since you two were young, many felt you two were as close as can be.

It was no secret Jaehaerys loved you, naturally as king he'd want you as his queen.

He's willing to do anything to get that.

He courts you with many gifts and gives you much affection.

Jaehaerys is a man who'd never force you into anything... at first.

He wants to be your one and only, but he'll wait for you.

He'll wait for you to accept his gifts and his love... Then when he brings up getting married, he marries you in private at Dragonstone when you're ready.

To him, it doesn't matter if his mother is against his affections.

He'd marry you in secret, but not consummate it until you're ready.

He's overly caring, overly protective, yet knows to treat you right.

He's dedicated to the point of telling others off, even The Faith, if they disagree with his decision.

He loves you more than anything.

Nothing could pry you from his grasp.

In a way, you could view his behavior as possessive rather than overly protective.

You mean The Realm to him....

Many think him weak, just like his father.

So he tries to show himself as strong for you and The Realm.

He wants you to love a strong man... one who can protect you from any threat.

However, Jaehaerys is also a man who wants to resolve things peacefully.

He isn't someone who would kill over you, unless your life and happiness were threatened.

Although... Jaehaerys is known to make veiled threats.

He does know how to show he has power.

He wants his voice heard, especially when he's defending his beloved.

Jaehaerys is a gifted rider who would love to ride alongside his beloved.

If you have Silverwing, he makes time to fly beside you.

If you don't ride a dragon, he invites you to ride atop Vermithor with him.

He sees this as bonding.

Jaehaerys trains for you, studies for you, he does nearly everything for you.

He's been attached and fond of you since you were both children.

The only way he'd give you up is if someone pried you from his hands.

Even when word of your secret marriage on Dragonstone would get out, Jaehaerys defends his choice vehemently.

Even when scolded by his mother, Jaehaerys clings to you protectively.

The good thing about Jaehaerys is he's a very doting husband at the start of your marriage.

I can see him as a worship yandere at times, praising you and cooing over you as his darling wife and queen.

He'd choose no one else.

Even if demanded.

You're taken hunting, riding, and with him to discuss diplomatic matters.

He pledges his love for you, showers you in kisses, holds you close...

Even more so once you carry his heirs.

He's smothering and protective, which seems like the worse he'd get.

Although... He does have dragons... and knows how to show others he means business.

If you were ever pregnant with his child, he is adamant on keeping you in the Red Keep.

Jaehaerys is a decent king compared to his uncle, Maegor.

Yet Jaehaerys still has the typical medieval gender views when it comes to women.

Despite that, as his queen, you are given respect.

Jaehaerys was known for fixing the realm after Maegor's rule.

Such a goal he hopes to have you aid him in as queen.

He treats his beloved well and doesn't seem all that bad compared to most Targaryens.

However... There's still glaring issues.

He's a good husband at times... but was evidently poor with his daughters.

That... and Jaehaerys has been shown in canon to have his wife bear... many heirs (In canon he tried for thirteen children, but nine lived until adulthood)

So one could say he'd be demanding of his obsession.

Jaehaerys would be fine towards you until you two start fighting.

He wouldn't show many toxic behaviors until your marriage begins to fail.

In fact, you may have loved him until issues began appearing.

In canon, these issues involved him marrying off his daughters too young or straight up casting them aside.

He was fine with his sons... but not his daughters.

However, in this concept, you two could fight for another reason if you wish.

To keep it dark, maybe he begins showing controlling behavior?

He may be a worship yandere... yet he's also a subtle manipulative one.

He keeps asking you for children... He keeps trying to lock you in the Red Keep...

Essentially, when he becomes too overbearing in this, you begin to no longer be fond of him.

Jaehaerys begins to notice when you pull away from him, turn down intimacy of any kind, and just glare.

Your marriage goes cold with the king and you want an out.

Nothing he does makes you happy anymore.

Jaehaerys actually becomes a bit... worried.

Even as he makes The Realm a better place, you're filled with disdain... He can't seem to fix his marriage.

Despite his actions, Jaehaerys still adores you.

He's still infatuated, even.

So... Seeing you so distant begins to drive the now older man to court you again.

He orders gifts for you, he offers dragon rides, hunting, reading, anything...

You ignore him.

It both frustrates him and makes him worried.

Will you never love him again?

How can he make it up to you?

Jaehaerys may try giving you your space to make you love him again.

Yet if that doesn't work... and he senses you'll try to flee for Dragonstone or somewhere similar to leave him...

He may need to convince you in other ways.

Imagine Jaehaerys imprisoning you for treason.

That or just locking you in your shared chambers.

He can't bear the thought of you leaving him.

Your children grow concerned about their father's behavior.

Unfortunately, Jaehaerys doesn't change his mind.

If you hate him... He'll tolerate it.

Yet he's going to keep you with him for the rest of his days.

He's used to the arguments you give him at this point.

The entire time he thinks back to when you two genuinely loved one another.

Being king is a hard life.

Even harder when your queen no longer loves you.

However... Jaehaerys would be determined to make you love him again.

If that doesn't work?

He'll just be happy dying beside you while your children take the Iron Throne and Dragonstone.

Ever since you two married, you're stuck to him.

It doesn't matter what you do... or if you reciprocate or not...

Jaehaerys will always love you, die beside you, and keep you to himself for the rest of your days. No matter what.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Good evening (or morning, afternoon, wherever u r) to you, Miss Raven, *tips hat* How do you do?

First of all, I was reading through the your canon Malleus romance analysis and i’ve just gotta say I love how you give a realistic approach to these characters and their world! 🙌🏻

But that also got me thinking, how would Leona prioritize his romantic vs royal life?

As second born prince, I wanna say Leona actually has more breathing room to pick whoever he wants as a partner (if the royal family doesn’t arrange a marriage before he gets that chance), plus, the Sunset Savanna’s next heir apparent is already born, so really there’s nothing worry about succession unless something happens to Cheka and or Falena. But at the same time Leona is still ridiculed by his people, so will that have any affect on who he wants to be with if he happens to choose someone other than another beast(wo)man or someone in a class lower than a noble?

And even tho he isn’t first in line for the throne, Leona is still royalty. I think he could pick a partner who is more private and less sociable with their life, but I also think they still might need to be prepared for the royal life, lack of privacy, speaking with the public, and other royal duties (even if Leona himself won’t do them).

TL;DR Do you think Leona’s status as second prince actually gives him a benefit for who he can pick as a romantic partner and how would the people’s view on him affect this, and what do you think would expected of Leona’s partner in the royal life even tho he’s not first in line for the throne?

What’s your take on this?

Related posts: Malleus / Kalim

Greetings 🎵 Life’s been a bit stressful lately, but I’m getting by! Busy planning something big for the blog too, so excited for that.

I think you must be talking about that post where I discussed what the expectations would probably be for Malleus’s future spouse? Thank you for the praise though! While anyone can ship themselves or their OC with Malleus in the latter, there’s certain in-universe logic that must be followed in the former. It feels very different to be a character in that world versus an outsider looking in. Being able to switch and see from those perspectives is important, I feel.

My thoughts on this topic aren't as concrete as what I laid out for my Malleus post, mostly because we don't know as much about Sunset Savanna's politics and since Leona isn't burdened by the same expectations as the crown prince or first in line to the throne. I feel like this post will be a lot of speculation, so just be cognizant of that.

As Leona is right now, I don't think he has much of an interest or an obligation to find someone. His focus seems to be on tending to himself and his own goals to help those around him, be it his juniors (Epel, Jack, Ruggie, etc.) or his country (due to his internship at a energy and mining lab). I definitely feel like that's where his priorities lie, and anyone he might take on as a life partner would also have to have a passion and dedication for this kind of service, whether they also engage in it or they at least support Leona's endeavors.

I also think that Leona would personally want an intelligent partner that's able to hold their own in a discussion, but only to a certain extent. Like, they have to be able to coherently express their own thoughts but I don't think he wants to deal with someone so stubborn that they constantly put up a fight with him if they happen to disagree. Leona has demonstrated multiple times that he finds it a hassle when people don't listen to him, so he tries to put himself in situations where he doesn't have to face that in the first place. For example, Leona states that he dislikes Silver and Rook, as they constantly act on their own and seem to disregard anything that others around them say. Additionally, he lacks a vice dorm leader because he made the conscious decision to not pick one, as he doesn't want someone challenging his decisions. Leona also strategically caves to his sister-in-law's demands to avoid wasting time and energy in an argument, since he knows that beastwomen tend to be strong-willed. His partner would have to know when to step back and give him space or when is not a good time to keep pressing a point. That means there'd be a certain element of emotional intelligence involved too, not just general wisdom or knowledge.

In these circumstances, I don't think there would be as much of an importance placed on the social status of Leona's spouse since he's like... what? Fourth in line to rule? His father is still alive, Falena/Farena is still fine, and Cheka's there too. The chances of Leona actually having to step up to that plate are low. There's no pressing need for Leona to find a partner or to produce an heir of his own. I don't recall there being lore about his older brother and sister-in-law having an arranged marriage or what social class his sister-in-law is from, so... there's not a lot to go off of there. I think, at the very least, we can assume there's not as much pressure for Leona to be in an arranged marriage since he isn't the crown prince. I don't get the sense that Sunset Savanna is as conservative with its social expectations as Briar Valley is, so it's doubtful whether or not the public would care about a royal marrying a commoner or a beastman marrying a non-beastman. To my latter point, there doesn't seem to be as strong of a racial divide between beastmen and humans (unlike fae and humans), so I don't think this would pose a major concern. But hey, maybe they do care a lot about status since Leona's flashback keeps harping on the importance of birth order--but that ultimately has no baring on the commoner versus royal thing. Maybe this is me being too much of an idealist, but I do think it would be possible for Leona's partner to come in and prove themselves, since their reputation (unlike Leona's) isn't already marred by being second in line to the throne and having a golden child to be compared to. If anything, I feel like the people would fear for the safety of Leona's spouse rather than what their "marrying outside of the norm" means for the country. Since there's a negative public view of Leona, I feel that this would translate into worry for the spouse rather than assuming they are "just as bad" as Leona. They're an outsider with a completely separate background from Leona's, and that I doubt that most people have the magic to rival his strength. Where would their fear of the spouse be reasonably coming from? I think the more likely situation would be the public feeling sympathy for the spouse (like, what if Leona's magic harms them) and wondering what they must see in the second-born prince. There might be a lot of gossip or concerns swirling around their courtship, little judgmental whispers and passing glances that are hard to avoid, maybe some hissed warnings to be careful around Leona, etc. The spouse should be careful how they react to public opinion though, as lashing out could make them be perceived as ill-tempered and crude, a poor reflection of both their own attitude as well as confirming preconceived notions of Leona. They should be equipped to handle socially complicated situations with grace and tact. When it comes to Leona, they should also be ready to provide him with some emotional support—not as a therapist he trauma dumps to or anything like that, but as a trusted and nonjudgmental confidant.

I think the spouse would receive the harshest scrutiny should they step into a more public-facing role… like if they started to enact or push for policies that go against the country’s reverence for nature and living in harmony with it. They would most certainly get pushback for it, maybe earn ire for not being “attuned” with its people. Leona’s spouse would, at the bare minimum, be expected to represent the values of Sunset Savanna and to engage in its ceremonies and traditions. For example, Leona—the second prince—is meant to train the winners of the Bead Brawl. Whatever royal duties are set for the spouses of the royal family… well, they should be prepared to fulfill them.

On the subject of privacy and sociability, it might actually be a drawback if Leona’s spouse were private and not sociable. Not being seen or interacting in public very often means people are left to their own devices and assumptions—and if Leona is the first person they associate with his spouse, it could lead to the public forming negative thoughts. "Oh, they're withdrawn because they don't care about us. Oh, they must be moody and hard to get along with." There’s a lot of earning trust that has to be done, especially if Leona intends to enact social reform, so I think it would make for better optics if his spouse really put themselves out there and was proactive in the community. Instead of framing themselves as a shut-away or some rando that married into the royal family, they have to be willing to step outside of their comfort zone and act like a leader if push comes to shove, show how outgoing and determined they can be.

Last thought I have on this matter I guess is related to how Leona’s loved ones would react. I don’t think the named characters would care about the details all too much?? Farena appears to respect his brother and treats him warmly, even when Leona brushes him off. He’d want Leona to be happy and at his best mentally and emotionally when and if he decides to help govern the country. And Cheka, well… maybe he’s a little too young to fully understand what’s going on, but I think he’d want his uncle to be happy too. I’d say even Kifaji would be on board with it, though perhaps not as openly as Farena or Cheka. He’s a stern older man, so I can absolutely see him scolding Leona and nagging him about his choice of partner—but in the way that a concerned grandparent would, you know? Not in an outright malicious way like the Briar Valley senators might. Unlike them, Kifaji can see the good in his prince and wants the best for him, even if he comes off as too overbearing at times. Kifaji doesn't unnecessarily act vitriolic or belittling to Leona, he states truths (that Leona acts improperly at times) and earnestly expresses his wish that Leona recognizes his own potential. He'll probably pull up to interrogate the spouse (because he cares that Leona marries someone who loves and values him), but ultimately give his blessings along with a plea for them to take good care of his second prince.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Radio Dream - Alastor x Reader (platonic or romantic)

"Do you think I can go into that Radio Tower?" you said

"Not unless you want to die again." Husk responded with a grunt.

"Why would you wanna go into dat thing anyway?" Angel said, leaning his cheek on one hand while the other held his drink.

You were sitting at the bar with Angel and Husk, just chatting about random insignificant drunk topics. Then your curiosity of the radio tower mounted on the hotel caught up to you. Leading to the conversation read not too long ago.

Alastor stood around the corner, just out of sight of the bar patrons. His ear flicked and his grin strained when you asked your foolish question, but Angel Dust's question had him pause before he could flay you.

Why did you? Sabotage? Vandalism? Just to be annoying-?

"I was just remembering how much I wanted to be radio show host when I was a little kid." You said in a sigh.

...Ooh?

"Oh? Really? Aren't ya... y'know, not ancient?" Angel said. He took a sip so you could respond. Husk was paying attention to you now as well, giving you a side-eye as he cleaned whatever glassware needed to be cleaned.

You sighed again, long and drawn out. There was a bit of dreaminess to your tone, a bit of longing. "Yeah, that's why I never really pursued it. My folks were like 'that's nice and all but that's going out of style and you can't make a living off of it, be more realistic.'" You snorted a bit in agitation at that, taking another slow sip of your drink. After a moment you continued.

"I used to have such a good time playing radio host. I'd sit in the living room or dining room, wherever people were, and make like a box fort or something with my cd player with me. I'd talk into a stick or spoon or whisk or something and talk about random topics or play music. Sometimes I'd 'take phone calls', which were mostly just me pretending to give myself a phone call." You chuckled "I would start a lot of 'drama' like that. Sometimes my family members would give suggestions and I'd play it up and play whatever song they asked. Assuming it was on one of the three CDs I was allowed to use."

"That's cute." Angel hummed "Other than the CDs and stuff, your show doesn't sound that much different from Alastor's."

Husk snorted "Nah, they're show sounds MUCH less annoying."

You barked out a laugh- clearly intoxicated "How dare you! I'm sure I could be a LOT more annoying!" You devolved into a hysterical giggle fit, your face hitting the bar counter in front of you.

"All right, I think you've had enough." Husk grunted, taking what was left of your drink from you.

"fair." You said into the counter.

The conversation carried on from there, and Alastor slinked away to his tower. He stood there a moment, his arms crossed behind his back as his eyes did a brief scan over the room.

When he was young, he did something similar. Granted it was a record player, not a see-dee or whatever you were rambling about. His mother would play along and encourage him, pretending to send letters in or be a guest on his show.

Hearing your story gave him a bit of a warm feeling in his chest. It was good knowing someone out there still appreciated the medium, even if it was likely unrealistic.

Well... Alastor supposed there was really no harm in it, assuming he was there to supervise...

A couple days later and Alastor trotted up to you, offering a tour of the radio tower.

For a brief moment, your eyes practically lit up - shining in delight. The expression did something to his chest, as it suddenly felt far too tight. But not in an...unpleasant way.

However, the next moment you looked downright terrified.

Not as pleasant. Not even funny. He had no idea why.

"Are you going to kill me or whatever?" You said, slowly taking a step back.

Alastor laughed "Not at all, my dear! I simply overheard your drunken conversation the other night and decided to indulge your childhood fantasy."

You snorted "Yeah I'm not selling you my soul for that."

Alastor waved you off, scoffing "Oh heavens, I wasn't asking for your soul." He gave you a bright grin- one that seemed less like a grin and more like a soft smile. "I simply ask you don't, how do people say now a days... 'wreck my shit'."

You giggled a bit into your palm. Apparently Alastor had said something funny.

"...Really? You'll just...let me look?"

"Certainly!" He put an arm across your shoulders, guiding you down the halls in the direction of his station. "Why it's been- unfortunately- quite some time since I heard such a passionate speech for the radio!"

Your face flushed a bright red "Well, hold on, it wasn't a 'speech'-"

"Nope! More like a couple sentences. But you know how it is," He used his free hand to do a jazzy motion "In show-business!"

You snorted "Mmm.... I guess so. Though, really, i've never been a very 'show business' kind of person."

"Nonsense! Once you have it, my dear, you never truly lose it. It just needs a little spark and then you'll have the flames all over again!"

"Are we talking about showmanship or arson?"

"Why not both!"

You laughed. His chest did that pleasant squeeze again. Maybe he'll allow you to sit in on a broadcast one of these days....Well, that was a future question.

--------------

Hi it's me the writer. I actually did the things that the reader talked about in this. It was a lot of fun for me and my attention-hungry existence. My parents didn't really dissuade me from it though. But. Uh. I think it was more like a 'entertain the child's whims' kind of thought. Which was fair, because I didn't exactly pursue that long. Though I still had fun playing it and figured i'd write something short about it. The three CDs I used were "Wicked", "Pokemon", and "The Shrek Soundtrack". Favorite songs to play from them, in order "No Good Deed", "The Pokemon Rap", and "Accidentally in Love" That info isn't important to anyone but me so i shared it anyway lol.

[kpopscruggles]

The people are asking for more txt twt links w/ Headcons and your thoughts! Love ur writing and maybe a sunghoon nsfw alphabet? I read some and it's a bit innacurate.. Would love your opinion on it (also new follower so idk much abt if u already posted that *I'll do some reseach :>*)

Thank you for requesting love! I decided to go with the sunghoon a-z because I've never done one and I've alr made a haechan request! 

Nsfw twt are on hold due to me finding some but soon I will bring those back! Anway's enjoy! 

A- aftercare, what he’s like after sex 

I feel he def attends to your needs, he’s at least doing the basics. Wiping you down, getting you cold water and a snack. I feel like he also does this though because he does it for himself if I'm being honest.  

Even if you didn’t care he was going to do it for himself so why not make sure his baby is taken care of too? It just makes sense to him. 

B- body part, their favorite on theirs and partner's body 

For him, his favorite body part on himself has to be his muscle. He’s not loke drooling over himself more than he is you but he does give himself good rep because he can pick you up, move you into diffrent positions with absolutely no problem. So i feel he values his muscles because of you in a sense. 

His favorite body part on you is your legs, he loves your legs. He loves how they are always in his lap, wrapped around his waist, on his shoulders. He loves kissing your ankles while ponding into you, also bonus points if you're wearing an ankle. 

C- cum, anything to do with cum 

I think he’s a clean guy UNLESS it involves a creampie. If he’s wanting you to swallow then he’s staying in your mouth, you must bribe him little to give you a facial or pearl necklace. Now like I said if it’s a creampie it’s sticky, messy, a shower after type fuck.  

Add in is I do believe he cums a lot, now realistic but he's got a nice stream going and is the type to squeeze his tip to make sure every bit comes out.  

D- dirty secret, self-explanatory  

Hoon’s got a few dirty secrets I believe but I think the main one he possesses and will never let you know unless you find out is bragging. And although this does not seem off but it's the fact, he could do the nastiest freaky things to you and has no shame in bragging about it when the boys try to tease him over it.  

This is something that he says between the boys and the boys, he doesn't get too personal with it, but he spills it by saying it’s something they should try with their girlfriends. 

E- experience, do they know what they are doing? 

I think if he had experience it's only have been one person. Hoon doesn’t strike me as the type who bounces around, for example you two could have dated months and he’s going to be sad ab it for a bit because he takes him time to know if he wants to date or not. 

So, one person but he’s mostly learned everything he’s fond of by himself, by watching porn, reading about it, etc.  

F- favorite position 

I don't think Hoon is basic, but he does use positions that slightly branch from the basic ones. Also keep in mind he finds ways to use his muscle. So, it falls under missionary, but he most has your legs on his shoulders and his moving your hips for you. It allows him to use his arm muscles, he's able to kiss around your ankles because he loves your legs. If not that then most the time it is quite simple missionary. 

G- goofy 

No, unless a simple mistake happens, he's profoundly serious cause he thinks sex is intimate. 

H- hair, how groomed is he? 

I think he keeps himself groomed and trimmed is his favorite. I think there is something about him that likes to keep the bit of hair because it is a human body and its gonna grow. Now he’s not freaking out if it grows a bit longer than planned nor is he judging you because your pussy is pretty to him no matter what. 

I- intimacy, how are they during the moment 

Super intimate, sex is a moment where in your relationship you're showing each other love and affection. Even after an argument sex is something that helps you both realize you love each other. He’ll do anything to have intimate moments with you because he genuinely does cherish them.  

J- jack off, how often? 

A lot. I am a firm believer Hoon has a perverted side and sometimes he’s too embarrassed to admit a simple thing got him hard.  

I also do believe he’s a firm believer of the fact no one can make you cum like yourself. He thinks you should even have moments where even though you have him you nor he should be ashamed of pleasuring yourself 

K- kinks? Top three 

Top three for him is Marking, Teasing, and A bit of overstimulation?  

Many people like to make these kinks rough, but they don't have to be. He likes marking because to him he loves when you nibble on his skin while he fucks you, He loves seeing you squirm a little or having you leave him with a raging boner even, overstimulation he likes because to him it kind of reveals how much or how eager you two wants each other with no shame or remorse for yourself to stop.  

L- Location, favorite places  

He enjoys just sex in the house (he may like the couch more than the bed) but if he’s out he doesn't mind meeting you somewhere private. It’s strange he has that vibe too because I also feel like he gives car sex after a few dates. 

M- motivation, what riles him up 

Anything you do sexually obviously riles him up but something nonsexual that gets him every.single.time, is when you wear certain colors. He thinks romantic colors like red, pink a dark purple, or a nice clean white takes him out every time, double points of the outfit is revealing 

N- no, turn offs 

He’s jealous that something I'll has to agree with most people on this app. Does that mean he won't share? Not technically. (not shipping when I say this) but he won't do threesomes unless it's with someone close, we can you jake as an example. But he’s only gonna do it once and all jake is getting is head. 

Another ultimate turn off is when things feel forced, not like one forcing the other but more of if he feels you are just having sex because you haven't in like a week, yeah, it’s not getting up so don't bother babe, he thinks sex takes time.  

O- oral, preference of giving or receiving 

He prefers giving, I believe. It doesn’t bother him when you wanna give him head, he just doesn’t feel that same ego boosts as when has got you whining while he’s fucking you with his tongue. So, unless he just has the urge to cut down your throat, he’s probably gonna stop your mid-way to ravish you instead. 

P- pace, fast? Rough? Slow? Sensual? 

He’ll get down with everything I do believe. I think if he’s feeling more sensual, he’s keeping his thrusts slow and deep so that orgasm just builds up by the minute. Rough, this is my opinion, but a lot of ppl do make him seem the be super rough, but I don’t think he’s like that and if he is it’s only when you're asking for it. Other than that, his rough is a lil messy and a couple marks but I also think he keeps a medium pace and just makes sure every inch of him fills you. 

Q- quickie? 

So, when I said in the turn off category, he thinks sex takes time. If you get a quickie outta him it’s a giving you head quickie because if his baby needs to cum he’ll gladly help. Other than that, I don't believe out of enha he's a quickie guy. 

R- risk, what are they willing to risk for sex with you? 

If you seem eager to do it, then he’s making his baby happy. If it’s not ruining anything in any way, he’ll do it for you. If it’s something he’s willing to risk, then it was never important is what he'll tell you. 

S- stamina? How many rounds 

I think he can carry about three rounds in his belt, if it's a needy situation 4 but if that's the case then 1 or 2 of the sessions someone is getting head so eventually your guy's breath is caught up. I do believe he spaces these sessions out if it's a 4 rounder but barely does this happen. Other than that, he’s going about three rounds  

T- toys, do they like them? 

Yes, so as said, he does think it’s healthy for you two to have sessions by yourself and you can use toys together but if you two use them when it’s just your personal time.  

U- unfair? Do they often tease? 

He thinks it builds up the need for others. He would love it if you teased him too. I see him as a competition teaser where you two see who gives in first. 

V- volume? Are they vocal? 

He’s a 50/50, what he’s always gonna do is dirty talk, no matter if it’s whispering or full-blown words. Now vocal as moaning wise, he lets out the soft moans, but only the overstimulation hit where he gets louder. 

W- wild card? Something that just randomly makes him relentless 

Knowing someone's listening or watching, or even knowing what you just did. If you are leaving your space after sex and one of the guys makes it obvious then he's getting hard again knowing there’s someone who knew he got to be balls deep inside you. It riles him up knowing he’s that lucky and that someone is jealous enough to tease and try to make fun.  

X- x-ray? What's he giving down there? 

I think he’s skinny but decently big. His tip always stays a pink, he’s got a couple semi prominent veins depending on how long he’s been edge or has held a boner. His balls are settled too, nothing rlly different there, like said he’s nice and trimmed so has a little hair patch. All around he gives pretty dick vibes.  

Y- yearning? High or low sex drive? 

High or normal. Most the time high which I feel is why he’s a guy who takes his time, this man is not thinking about being buried in your cunt 24 hours of the day just for a quick fuck.  

Z- zzzz, how fast he falls asleep after 

He’s tired but he’s not going to sleep without letting you know he loves you and that he enjoyed making you cum, sometimes even tells you thank you. Give a couple of kisses and make sure you're comfy.