#whatever you do don't go as Blade that's just not cool

[golgafrincham]

[fatherbrat]

cw. hockey player!sukuna, college au, reader just became the team manager and doesn't know how to ice skate. shiu + satoru are also on the team. reader & sukuna do Not like each other. sfw, 1.5k words.

you hear the sound of the gym door slamming closed at the very same moment your butt hits the ice. again. 

your head whips around towards the door, wondering who else would come to the campus ice rink during winter break. everyone should be home, enjoying time with their families, or at least time away from school.

sukuna stands at the entrance, a duffle bag hanging over his right shoulder and two hockey sticks in his left hand. he just looks at you for a moment, his hostile expression heating your face. you catch the subtle curl of his upper lip and roll your eyes, turning back around and lifting yourself off the ground. you’re close enough to steady yourself on the ledge of the boards before you lose balance again.

you hear sukuna's footsteps echo in the empty gym, the keys clipped to his duffle bag rattling loudly. the sound stops abruptly once he's close enough to analyze you through the shielding.

"what are you doing in my rink?"

cool, cool, cool, cool. as if your sworn enemy walking in on you wet and cold and exhausted wasn't bad enough, he's gonna be a total dick about it too. (to be expected honestly.)

you shrug, still holding onto the ledge. "i can't be helpful to a hockey team if i can't ice skate."

sukuna sneers, muttering something you don't care to hear before heading off towards the locker rooms.

you know sukuna never wanted you to get hired on as team manager in the first place. unfortunately for him, the captain doesn’t get to veto the decision of the coach, who offered you the job the day after your interview. 

it's not even your fault. shiu and satoru are the ones who schemed and plotted for you to become their manager anyway. they encouraged you to go in for the interview even though you hadn’t even applied. (at least, you thought you hadn’t. turns out shiu submitted an application in your name while borrowing your laptop. you suspect him and satoru also “encouraged” their coach to pick you out of the dozens of other students who had applied.)

you manage to fall three more times before sukuna comes out of the locker room dressed in his practice gear. he sits down on the bench where you’d abandoned your things to put on his skates and you sigh, preparing to scoot out of the rink. 

when he steps on the ice and glides towards you, you aren’t expecting him to hold his hands out for you to grab. he yanks you up with too much force and you nearly tumble again. your cheek meets his chest, face smushed up against him while your hands are still in his. he lets go, instead grabbing you by your upper arms and forcing you upright.

“bend your knees,” he says, voice steely.

you just blink, stunned that he’s not carrying you off the ice and demanding you go home. it takes you too long, but you bend your knees slightly and look up at sukuna, silently waiting for more instruction. 

“stop trying to walk on the ice. this isn’t walking, it’s skating. march.”

sukuna spends the next three hours teaching you the basics of ice skating. you fall some more, but it hurts less after he tells you to fall on your side and stop flailing. he reprimands you for always staying within arms reach of the wall, something about it stunting the learning process or whatever. you don’t touch any of the ledges again, your arms mostly staying extended out in front of you. his directions are harsh, but by the time it’s dark outside you’ve managed to skate your way around the perimeter of the rink nearly a dozen times without falling.

you almost squeal with joy after the tenth loop, opting instead to raise your arms in the air and smile wide. sukuna just nods once, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“okay, you’re good for now. buy a new pair of skates, it’ll be easier on sharper blades. those rentals suck. and you didn’t tie them right.” his tone is no different than it was when he first entered the building, as if talking to you is a chore he has to get out of the way. maybe a couple years ago it would’ve made you shrink, but now it just pisses you off more than anything.

you nod slowly, making a mental note to ask satoru where you should buy skates from (and wondering if you can convince him to buy them for you). sukuna makes a dramatic sweeping motion with both his arms, gesturing towards the exit. 

“can i have my rink back now?” he asks, arms still outstretched.

you roll your eyes but don’t argue, his reward for successfully teaching you how to skate. you even mutter a thank you as you glide past him, but he just waves you away.

he starts to set up for drills as you untie your borrowed skates, dropping little orange cones on the ice in some intricate zig zag pattern. you watch him for a moment before your phone rings, vibrating the entire bench.

a picture of you and satoru lights up the screen, his name dancing across the top. sukuna gives you a pointed glare when you answer it without making any move to leave.

“hi ‘toru.”

he greets you excitedly from the other end. “we’ve been texting you all day,” he whines, probably referring to him and shiu. “where’ve you been?”

you smile. “i, uh, came back to school early. the thought of managing a hockey team while not being able to skate was actually haunting me, so i came to practice a little.”

satoru fusses about how you should have told him and that he would have come back to teach you in a heartbeat, but you just brush him off. 

“i didn’t need you. i made it around the rink ten times in a row without falling. i’m basically a pro now.” your voice drips with pride and you’re sure satoru can hear your grin.

“oh yeah? who taught you how to do that?”

it only takes you two seconds to decide you do not want him to know about your impromptu skating lesson with his captain. satoru already knows all the unsavory details about your previous spats with sukuna, and you know he’d tell shiu immediately, who would be quick to interrogate you about it. he'd probably tease sukuna about it too, which would probably make the man hate you more. you wouldn't even blame him. shiu's teasing can be incessant.

“nobody did. i taught myself,” you say.

you swear you see sukuna stiffen out on the ice, and when he turns to face you the look on his face can only be described as malicious. it’s enough to make you immediately gather your things and rush out of the building. you feel his eyes crawling over you all the way from the bench to the double doors.

a blast of icy wind shocks your system when you step outside. satoru’s talking, saying something about how he can be back on campus by tomorrow night, and how he can probably get shiu to come with. you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to come back early just because you did, but the look on sukuna’s face still has you a little rattled.

not for the first time, dread slithers its way up from your gut. shiu was the one who ultimately convinced you that becoming the manager for the hockey team would be a good idea. good for your resume, good for the team, a good way to get to hang out more often. at the time, you thought he was right. he’s not really wrong now, but you worry that you and the captain’s mutual dislike for each other will get in the way.

satoru says your name, and the way he says it sounds like he’s been repeating it for a while.

“yeah hey, sorry i’m here.”

“you okay?” he asks.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” the walk from the ice rink to the parking lot is unnecessarily long, something you’ve heard satoru complain about many, many times. “i’m just walking to my car. it’s so fucking cold. there’s no reason for the parking lot to be this far away.”

“ugh, i know,” satoru huffs. he asks again if you want him to come up early. you say yes.

the two of you hang up when you make it to your car. your phone vibrates with a text from shiu a couple minutes later. you’re still sitting there in the parking lot, blasting the heat and trying to figure out how to make the next few months of school bearable. 

maybe sukuna will suddenly transfer schools in the middle of the semester. or do something that gets him benched for the rest of the season. or get hit by a car. yeah. any of those would be good.

you can only hope.

a/n. this is part of a kinda larger enemies-to-lovers thing i'm building and i just wanted to get this off my chest. i hope it still made sense with minimal context (..◜ᴗ◝..)

[2thestars-andbeyond]

Little Rabbit

Summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. While training with Rhysand, she winnows herself to the Autumn Court by mistake and finds someone she can't seem to get off her mind..

"Just close your eyes and try again." Rhysand told me, sternly. I'm sure he was getting pretty fed up with me and my training. Plus we'd been at this for a good three hours now. "Close your eyes and concentrate."

"That's what I've been doing Rhys! And its not working!" I took a deep breath trying not to lose my temper. "I just end up five feet from where i'm standing."

Winnowing was hard and learning how to use the power was draining. Taking a seat on a near by stump, I wiped away a stay tear that started to roll down my cheek.

"Winnowing is a power not all Fae have. It takes a good deal of concentration and strength. try again Y/N. Try to think of another spot in the woods."

All the woods looked the same. Every tree the same type of maple. Every blade of grass the same shade of green.

I rolled my eyes at Rhys. "I'm not sure why you have so much faith in me winnowing anyway. I'm obviously not that good at it so i'm not sure why it matters so much."

Rhys took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. "Y/n, I know you can do this. Close your eyes and try again. Focus on the tree that Azriel is standing next to."

Az just nodded at me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I always loved being in the woods especially during autumn. All the colors and cool breezes. Soon, in my minds eye, the tree behind the Shadow Singer had vibrant orange leaves and a cool breeze blew my hair. I ripped my eyes open.

"You've got to be kidding me." I whispered in disbelief. I had done it. I had finally winnowed, right into the Autumn Court...

"I knew that asshole was up to something" Rhysand had been trying for the past week to get me to winnow. I hope he's happy now.

"I know you can do it" I mocked my brother in law as I walked through the unfamiliar forest of Autumn. I knew it was a matter of time before Beron's sentries found me. Rhysands "I know you can do it" is probably going to get beheaded or whatever they do to trespassers in this Court.

I heard shuffling in the nearby bushes. I stopped so abruptly I almost fell. "Please don't be a bear or a wolf."

I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel jetted out of the bush.

"Are you lost little rabbit?"

I whirled around and bumped right into a red haired male.

"Shit." I murmured under my breath, finding it hard to find my voice.

He smirked. "You are far from home. Don't worry. I already informed Rhysand."

I had never met this male before. So how did he know who I was? He took a step around means continued down the path.

"I do have to say that it is pretty impressive that you winnowed this far away from Night. nearly four courts away. Come. We will meet your high lord somewhere safe. Beron has eyes and ears everywhere. Sometimes I fear the creatures are on his side as well."

I ran to catch up with him. "Wait so you aren't going to turn me in?"

He chuckled. "Why would I do that? Hmm?" His amber eyes met mine.

His gaze was intense and nearly took my breath away. "I-it's just that i'm trespassing, correct? I was sure that would be punishable in such a cutthroat Court?"

"Oh, it is. Usually anyway, but I told Beron i'd check out the breech in the border."

We walked for what seemed like forever. Passing by tree after tree, all of them different it seemed, unlike the forest back home. Every tree different shades of Autumn colors. More vibrant than I had ever seen back in the night Court or the human lands for that matter. Before I knew it we had reached a clearing.

"Take my hand" The male told me. "Rhysand waits for you in the clearing."

I gave him a skeptical look, "Ahh. I don't see anything inside the clearing"

"Just trust me." He replied offering me his hand.

"How do I know I can trust you? I don't even know you."

"I would never let any harm come to you, Y/n." I gasped as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his chest. The smell of crackling fire and spice engulfed me as he winnowed us into the clearing.

Rhysand, Feyre and Az appeared before me. Azriel, noting how close the male held me, drew his knife.

"Calm down Shadow Singer, she is unharmed. Aren't you little rabbit?" He asked, bringing my chin up so that my eyes met his again.

Azriel growled. but the male let me go. Taking one more look at his face, I ran into my older sisters arms. "I'm okay. " I assured them.

"Thank you Eris for keeping her safe." Rhys stated.

"It is strange though. That she winnowed so far from home." Eris mused. "Makes one wonder what drew her to a court she had never stepper foot into." With that, he disappeared.

Shocked was an understatement. The male that had saved me was the Heir of Autumn. the male every one talks so much shit about. And all I could think about was how his warm hand felt wrapped around my wrist. How his finger had gently raised my chin, how his amber eyes seemed to darken as they bore into mine.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-two preview

Five days. They're still here. You realize what's taking them so long; they're collecting food, drying meat into jerky and simmering wild strawberries into jams that Nereida cans. They have quite a lot of supplies with them. One of Kyle's backpack's is filled with ammo and another is stuffed with medicine. 

Kyle is easy to talk to. Nereida, too. Price—however—seems like he doesn't know what to think of you. Or maybe you're too insignificant to have crossed his mind much. 

That's fair. You don't need to all be friends.

Blue seems to like Ari. He's thirteen, two years older than her, which is evident in the way her head reaches his shoulders. She doesn't even say hi to you in the morning. Instead she shows him all her magazines and even the rabbits. He decides to name one Rocky, a friend for Grim. You can't be bothered; she needs another friend. Ghost isn't keen about them alone together, though. You heard him mutter to Kyle—keep an eye on him, Gaz.

The threat of summer starts to invite more and more sweat down your neck. Your hair has gotten so long. After tossing and turning on Ghost's bedroom floor, it became a nest of tangles. When Nereida, Ari, and Blue go for a dip in the pond, you go with them and soak it, then let the water settle so you can stare at your reflection. Blade sharpened, you saw a few inches off. Better. More practical. 

"I thought you were going to cut more," Blue comments.

"I don't want it that short, or else it's harder to braid."

As the two kids keep swimming, Nereida finds bunches of rosemary and seems more excited than you'd be about it. 

"It helps fight off odors," she explains when you ask. "Like when I have my period, so the Greys can't smell it as much."

When she puts it that way, you grab some, too. Then you start wondering about her and John. Do they have sex? They must. You've seen the way they are. Kisses to their shoulder and neck, arms around each other's waist. You've stared a few times only to catch yourself and quickly look away. How do they avoid pregnancy? You highly doubt either of them want to bring a new child into the world. You wouldn't.

Ari and Blue lay in the sun together. You scoot away to give them space, but overhear some of their conversation, anyway.

"Your dad is so cool."

Blue plays with a piece of her hair. "Oh? You think so?"

"Have you seen him? He's a beast. My uncle told me he got his name because no one could see him coming before he killed them."

"He can be a pain in my ass sometimes," Blue mutters. Her nose scrunches. "But he's taught me a lot of things. I'm pretty good with knives."

"Damn, I gotta see that."

She is beaming. "I'll show you when we get back."

Then, she leans over and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is, he smiles and shakes his head in response.

She pulls away, sighing. "I wish you guys could just stay here."

Or maybe your dad will make us go with them, you think to yourself. In a way, it's comforting, that he is secretive with her, too. He still hasn't brought up the topic again. Either he hasn't decided, or he doesn't actually plan on keeping you updated. You try your best not to ruminate, but it's hard not to, especially when you have a hard time falling asleep on floorboards and are left with your thoughts in the dark. 

Which is why you're not feeling thrilled by the time you go into his room. He's already lying in bed, one hand bent behind his head while the other props open a book. He looks comfortable. Almost normal, even.

"How do you sleep with the mask on?" you remark, kicking off your shoes. 

His eyes lift from the page briefly. "Like a baby."

"How come Kyle has seen you without it and not me?"

His jaw flexes. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you."

A light huff. Then, "Nice haircut."

When the room is dark, Ghost must get tired of hearing you toss and turn. He flicks on the small lamp, and you squint from the sudden light, stuffing the pillow over your head. There's shuffling before a hand rips the pillow from your face and tosses it onto the bed.

"Just get in the fucking bed. I won't bite." The sight of him standing above you, sweatpants low on his hips, consumes your vision. His voice is low but demanding.

"What, together?"

"I want good sleep. M'not going to get it on the floor, or listening to you up all night, so get in." His eyes peer down at you, half-lidded, before he lowly adds, "I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

You lift up and ignore the offer of his hand. "I'm not worried."

To protest would be embarrassingly juvenile when both him and you know you want to sleep there. Yet—your heart thickens. He watches as you crawl into the bed where the ceiling slants, tucking yourself under the quilt and curling against the very edge so that your knees float over it. The springs groan to your left and then heady warmth spills over you. Ghost keeps to his side, flat on his back, with his hands lying on his chest. His elbow pokes into your back no matter how carefully you try to inch away, and his thigh just barely brushes against your backside. 

The bastard doesn't say a word, nor does he make an effort to give you more space so you screw your eyes shut and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. 

[kromato]

Hey what's up it's me with a special interest in weapons and I wanted to share my thoughts about Nikto's machete (no that's not an innuendo for once)

Had a bit of a solo-mandela effect going on because for the longest time I thought it had a modified 'billhook'-like feature on the back of it for whatever reason (but smaller than what would be considered a traditional billhook, more like a hoof pick blade).

I kind of enjoy still HCing that it does have it because a) it looks kind of cool and b) a terrifying thought to think this man whips this giant intimidating blade out, flips it deftly in his hand to the hook side, just to sink it into flesh and yank people back in when they try to run. Also it allows me to think about a scenario where, resident karambit knife enthusiast Sebastian Krueger, can teach proper blade hooking techniques to our beloved plural man. Anyway back to the knife - It's like a cross between a coup coup and a bola? But has a cool flare like a Tapanga for his newer mwiii model. Also like a vintage Senegalese french machete, which were known for their high quality (might technically be the same thing as the coup coup, just with the locale specified I think, both entrenchment machetes). That curve also kind of reminds me of parangs but it's not particularly drop-pointed.

I HC Nikto as a very brutally pragmatic but particular man, so it doesn't feel too far off to think that he went out of his way to acquire something niche like that. Some kind of custom-made machete that fits his needs just right. The length of it, as well as the curved, ergonomic grip makes me think he's gotten it to do some serious chopping, so it's also probably heavy and weighted forward to make that easier when swinging. I don't see him as a flashy fighter personally, and though maybe it was a stylistic choice for the game devs/artists, I think it's a neat feature that speaks to his character. I do think it's made of hefty steel; weight is important in chopping knives, and though steel rusts, it's sturdy compared to a lot of other metals. Not to mention - I feel like oiling and caring for his weapons, machete included, would be a ritual source of peace for his sometimes loud and chaotic mind. Grounding when he can feel the weight and texture where his nerves aren't completely damaged, smell the oil, have tangible proof that it's reality when he sees the maintained blade even after he becomes unmoored.

Now this is just me WAY reading too much into it, but it gives me a little giggle - The hole at the end of the handle is for a wrist lanyard, so you can loop a piece of paracord rope to secure it around your hand. It's an important safety feature just in case the machete goes flying out of your hand while chopping, lest it hit people in your vicinity (accidentally...?). In his 19 model, he doesn't have the paracord rope attached; Nikto says "Fuck your safety" but also huge ego of "I would never accidentally fling my knife!!"

Could also be because it gets caught on stuff if it dangles off his hip though - he's got one on his newer model where he wears the blade on his shoulder, which looks like a place where it's less likely to snag on things. Could also be because he's been increasingly featured in larger factions, so he works with more people and was asked to have one on hand maybe?? I don't know. In either case the knot in the middle of the rope makes it too small for his wrist which could also be read as a passive-aggressive "Here's the fucking safety rope it's on there ALRIGHT" and yet he's also made it nonfunctional for its intended purpose lmao Okay that's all byeeee

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Let me stay small, please (let me wait a little longer)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, comfort

warnings: slytherin reader, you grow and you change and you can't really stop it, the world spins on and all that, you can go back to the past but no one's there anymore, guys I promise it's actually very lighthearted I'm just going bonkers rn

a/n: it's autumn and I'm so happy this is my time this is my moment. I'm posting this from my phone and I'm so scared that the formatting is fucked pls tell me

A cool breeze blows by and you know that if you could see Sirius's face, if your head wasn't resting against his shoulder with your eyes fluttered closed, you'd be able to see the concerned frown that you're sure is tugging at his lips. His jacket was draped over your shoulders ages ago and he pulls at it now, tucking you further into the warmth of it as you press against his side.

"I won't freeze, you know," you murmur, admittedly half asleep. You hear him scoff, another gust of wind blowing through and rattling the leaves on the trees, sending them spiralling down in flashes of oranges and reds down to where you're sitting.

"It's getting colder," Sirius points out, and your slow, sleepy state makes it difficult for him to embody his usual loud, snippy tone. "It won't do any of us any good if you catch a cold right as the semester's starting, sweet thing."

"Well," you drawl quietly, letting your eyes flutter open so that you can tilt your head back and look up at him. "You'll do my homework for me if I do get sick, won't you, baby?"

"I will not," he sniffs indignantly. "And neither will Remus, before you even ask him. You know he'll just bring your books to bed and help you from there."

"Whatever," you say as you wave your hand dismissively and blow a puff of air from your cheeks. "James will do it for me."

"Well, probably, yes," James's chipper voice makes the two of you look up as he and Remus join you, settling against the huge oak tree that you and Sirius had been leaning against. "But what am I doing for you, love?"

"My homework," you clarify. "But only if I get sick."

"Why would you get sick," Remus frowns, eyeing you suspiciously. 

"Hm, no reason," you shrug absently, and Sirius huffs rather dramatically at your dismissal. 

"Well, good," James plows on. "Now that we're all back together, there's no time for any of that." He flicks you ever so gently on the forehead as he speaks, that familiar teasing tilt colouring his voice as he grins. You roll your eyes and relax further into Sirius, knowing that James is likely already planning some sort of prank or party or god knows what else.

"Speaking of," Sirius chimes in, bumping his shoulder a bit to get your attention as Remus settles on his other side and curls into him, leaving James to sit in front of you and pick leaves and grass blades off of your pants for you. "I haven't heard anything about Slytherin's first party yet - what's that about, no housewarming this year?" 

"Well, we were talking about it," you muse, shrugging a bit as the three of them stare at you and blink owlishly at your words. "It's our turn to host the Halloween party this year and you know we always go all out for that. I don't know, we just thought it might be a bit much to do the two back-to-back." Sirius sniffs at your words, pursing his lips like he's trying not to say something that he knows will egg you on as Remus leans forward to look at you better.

"Well, I wouldn't know…" he begins, and your eyes narrow at the teasing mirth that's entered his voice. "But last year Gryffindor hosted the Halloween party and we still managed to do both, but I guess that's different." You stand up abruptly at his words, brushing stray leaves off of you as you begin to stomp back towards the castle, the three of them scrambling to stand amidst their laughter and chase after you.

"Love, where are you going?" James calls as he jogs to catch up to you, standing in front of you so that he can walk backwards as you continue to march on.

"Oh, I just have a party to plan - you know, Slytherin housewarming party and all that, lots to do," you say flippantly, scowling as you hear Remus laugh and Sirius cheer from somewhere behind you. You do slow your pace, though, as you walk through the courtyard, letting the three of them fall into step with you once more.

"You should let me help with the playlist," Sirius offers smugly, but you just shove him with your shoulder in response, his jacket still hanging off of your frame.

"Make your own playlist - don't you have our own party to plan?" you quip. He just laughs, though, as Remus slings an arm around your shoulders.

"And make sure it's not on the same night as ours, my love," he says helpfully, something mischievous twinkling in his eye as he pulls you closer. "We wouldn't want any competition with attendance - somebody's bound to get their feelings hurt."

"You three, most likely," you tease back, but James reaches from where he's walking behind you to pinch at the back of your thighs, delighted when you make an embarrassing sort of sound and turn briefly to smack him on the shoulder. 

"Really, though," he adds as you turn for one of the many winding staircases heading down to the dungeons. "We need to be able to go to both, so just -"

"We'll do it the weekend after yours," you say in defeat, stopping to spin around in the deserted stairwell to look up at him. "Happy?"

"Very," James grins, leaning down to press a quick little kiss of victory to your lips as Sirius frowns.

"That's not fair," he chimes in. "That means you get to see ours first and plan ahead."

"I think I've already seen yours first, babe," you say pointedly, making Remus snort and bury his face in your hair to hide a laugh while Sirius flushes crimson and turns his head away.

"Anyway," he barrels on. "Why not just do things the same way we did them last year?"

"Because…" you shrug, watching as James pats a hand rather consolingly onto Sirius's head. "It's not last year. This year's different - it's new and everything's changing and we might as well follow suit."

Things…  quiet down a bit at that, everything settling as you shift on your feet and Remus tangles his fingers with yours in a nervous sort of habit. Outside of the stairwell, other students can be heard laughing and gossiping about the new academic year and everything that they think will come with it. 

"It doesn't have to," Sirius says stubbornly. "Why can't things just stay the same?"

"I don't know," you say softly as James runs a hand through Sirius's hair. "I think things change even if we don't want them to. I'm not sure we have much control over it."

Sirius looks at you a bit imploringly for a moment before letting his eyes flit over the other two - at the messy curls of James's hair where it's grown more over the summer and at the height of Remus as he stands taller than he did last year. Sirius is sure, even if he doesn't want to admit it, that he'd find changes in himself as well if he dared to look in a mirror. 

But then he looks at you and, although you've undoubtedly changed as well, your eyes still look at him with love and patience and trust, and he feels his shoulders drop just a bit in defeat - and maybe, just a little, in comfort, as well.

"Well," he huffs, crossing his arms and pretending to scowl at you even as he eyes soften. "Just don't steal any of our party ideas."

"Like I'd need to," you quip back, spinning on your heel and continuing down the spiralling stairs. "If anyone's doing the stealing, it'll be you lot taking ideas from us."

Three indignant voices ricochet off of the stone walls as they chase after you, shouting and carrying on about the insult of it all. You step a little surer, though, and laugh a little louder, and as Sirius catches up to you and drops a gentle kiss to your forehead, you're not sure you mind the changes. You're not sure that it matters, really, how much the world spins outside when everything right here is just the same as it always has been. 

[early20sfailingplenty]

Lowkey, I want to see Vincent go insane because his s/o got hurt by a tourist. It’s just something about scary men who get pissed that their partner gets hurt and stops at nothing but get revenge is so 🥰🥰

I love the thought of this!

TW; canon-typical violence, discussion of canon events, dehumanisation of Dalton and Wade (canon-compliant), Bo pukes (unrelated to canon events - I'm not that strong lmfao)

I've always thought that Dalton and Wade got especially brutal deaths because of one simple fact: they messed around in Vincent's House of Wax. It's his domain, it's clear as crystal; it's his hunting ground, it's where he prepares and then displays the best of his trophies.

The House of Wax is his; Wade feigning to burn one of the sculptures was a genuinely asshole move (seriously, who the fuck sees someone else's hard work and starts melting it? Fucking ass) and earned him a place in the House of Wax; he mocked Vincent's work, so Vincent turned him into the very thing as a petty revenge.

Dalton, for his part, destroyed Vincent's latest project, tore the face off of his still cooling artwork and I don't know about you, but if I spend hours making something and then someone deliberately started messing with it, I'd be more than slightly murderous too.

(Though, in Dalton's defence, if I looked up and saw Vincent looming over me like that, I'd lose my head and squirt all over the floor too - I get it, dude).

All this to say... Vincent went apeshit on these two kids because they messed around in his domain. He's possessive, obsessive, deeply passionate and always in control of what he's doing. When Vincent puts his mind to something, he is ruthless and there's absolutely no stopping him.

So now imagine what he'd do, the acts of sheer depravity he'd perform, if his beloved got harmed? He'd be so vicious, so genuinely unhinged, that when Bo later sees what happened to the people he sent Vincent's way, the remains of the bodies would have him stomping outside to throw up in Lester's rose bushes, and even Lester would have to literally scrape them up off the floor with whatever gardening implement he can find. A shovel, maybe. A bucket of water to sluice them away would also work.

There's roadkill, there's roadkill, and then there's... whatever the fuck Vincent did to these people.

There's blood dripping off his twin blades, his overalls are caked in it, he's squelching somewhat in his worn boots as he walks, there's viscera splattered across the wax floor, and somehow there's blood on the ceiling... you know not to ask. But Bo's an interesting shade of porcelain you've never seen before, and even Lester can hardly bear to look.

And you? You're off to the side nursing your injury; nothing life-threatening, and later on you'll be joking with Bo, "'tis but a scratch", but Vincent's reaction has you feeling more than a little loved. Safe, protected, cherished, by the most relentless and brutal of the three Sinclair brothers.

[aventurineswife]

Kafka, Silver Wolf, Blade and Jingliu with Reader who cooks as bad as Yor Forger? 🤣 (Could be platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat.)

Like Reader’s cooking is so bad it makes the actual in-game food item Sugarball Fried Viscorpi look normal in comparison, and even the most hardened criminal would balk and flee the moment Reader lifts the plate cover. A cycrane could be passing overhead and as soon as it catches a whiff, it just drops dead to ground with smoke rising from it. A devout follower of Lan might start praying to Yaoshi for a strong enough stomach to survive a bite, maybe a few bites if luck is on their side. That’s how bad Reader’s cooking is. It should be impossible for one person to be so terrible at cooking, yet Reader pulls it off without even meaning to, with desperate attempts to avoid it being terrible.

I just think it’s funny for characters that are meant to be super serious or “tough/cool” have that exterior suddenly shatter/freeze up when faced with something that is so awful and yet very much mundane. 😂

“When Love Cooks... but the Kitchen Revolts” | Part 1

Tags: Kafka x Reader, Silver Wolf x Reader, Blade x Reader, Jingliu x Reader, Humor, Fluff, Cooking Disaster, Slice of Life, Mild Chaos, Romantic Undertones but can be read Platonically, Lighthearted, Crack Fic.

Warnings: Slightly chaotic food descriptions, humor involving exaggerated reactions to food (no real harm intended), mentions of inedible meals.

A/N: was laughing when reading this req🤭, don't let this reader meet Solomon and Raphael 💀

[Part 2] | [Part 3]

Kafka was rarely fazed. A Stellaron Hunter who could manipulate the minds of the toughest soldiers and bring entire armies to their knees with her charm and cunning—what could truly unsettle someone like her?

Apparently, your cooking.

“I appreciate the effort, darling,” Kafka purred, her tone masking the visible hesitation in her movements. Her hair fell over one shoulder as she peered down at the steaming… dish? It was hard to describe what lay before her, even for someone as eloquent as Kafka. The consistency was gelatinous, the smell pungent enough to make the station's security drones glitch and crash into a nearby wall.

You watched nervously as she poked the food with her fork. It wobbled menacingly.

“I followed the recipe to the letter this time!” you exclaimed, your hands wringing a dishcloth. “I even double-checked the measurements.”

Kafka gave you a patient smile, though there was a flicker of genuine fear in her eyes. She tentatively lifted the fork to her lips, her composure rivaling that of a woman walking into certain death.

The taste hit her like a warpstorm.

The fork clattered to her plate, and for the first time, you saw Kafka’s facade crack. Her lips twitched as she forced a smile that was as strained as the vocal chords of a cycrane caught mid-squawk. A bead of sweat slid down her temple.

“Exquisite,” she said, voice a touch too high. “Truly a flavor I’ve never experienced before.”

Outside the window, a passing cycrane plummeted from the sky, smoke trailing from its feathers. You gasped, and Kafka seized the opportunity.

“Darling,” she said, standing abruptly and pulling you close to her side, “why don’t we step outside? Some fresh air might do us good.”

“But you haven’t even finished—”

“No need!” she interrupted quickly, her polished calm returning. “I’m already full. Full of… new memories.”

As the two of you stepped outside, the dish quietly bubbled on the table, sending faint tremors through the floor.

Silver Wolf was sprawled across your couch, console in hand, her fingers flying over the buttons as she annihilated yet another level. She barely glanced up when you called her to the table.

“Hold up, just one more boss fight!” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence.

“Silver Wolf, it’s going to get cold!” you called back, proud of your latest attempt at dinner.

With a dramatic sigh, she finally paused her game and wandered over. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She froze mid-step when she saw the plate. Her usual smirk faltered, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. The dish in front of her looked… pixelated. Somehow, you had cooked something that appeared to have graphical glitches. A faint buzzing sound emanated from it, and a small spark leapt from one corner of the plate.

“Uh…” she began, stepping back cautiously. “Did you… download this food? Is this some kind of DLC?”

“No, it’s homemade! I swear, I followed all the steps this time.”

Silver Wolf adjusted her purple glasses, leaning in like she was analyzing enemy data. “It’s moving...” she whispered.

“It’s probably just steam.”

“It has a health bar...” she countered, pointing at the faint glowing bar hovering above the plate.

You crossed your arms. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Before she could respond, a stray kitchen cycrane beeped as it flew overhead, caught a whiff of the food, and promptly crashed through the window. Silver Wolf stared at the wreckage, then back at you.

“…Yeah, I’m ordering pizza.”

Blade had faced mara, untold pain, and the horrors of his immortal existence. Nothing could break him—or so he thought.

“Dinner is ready!” you called cheerfully, setting a plate in front of him. He glanced at it, his eyes narrowing slightly. The dish emitted a faint purple mist, and there was a distinct hiss as it touched the table.

“Is it… safe?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Of course! I made sure it was cooked all the way through this time.” you said, smiling.

Blade lifted his fork, gripping it with the same resolve he used to wield his broken sword. He took a small bite, and for a brief moment, you thought he’d handle it.

But then his usually impassive face twisted. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he slowly placed the fork down and stared at you.

“This… is a weapon.” he said finally.

You frowned. “You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I mean it’s literally a weapon. Whatever this is… it could end battles. Entire wars.”

Outside, a devout follower of Lan walking by your home dropped to their knees and began praying fervently. Blade sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Next time, let me cook.”

[Header credits]

Jingliu was a woman of discipline and focus. Even as she descended into the madness of mara, she maintained an iron grip on her composure. That composure was now being tested.

She stared at the dish before her, her eyes narrowing. “This… is your cooking?”

“Yes!” you said, grinning nervously. “I thought you might enjoy something homemade for a change.”

Jingliu reached for her chopsticks, her movements slow and deliberate. The air around her grew colder as if her body instinctively activated her Path of the Destruction abilities in self-defense. She picked up a piece of… something. It sizzled ominously in the open air.

“Perhaps…” she murmured, her voice low, “this is a test of endurance.”

She took a bite. The room fell silent.

Moments later, a faint cracking sound echoed through the house. You realized it was the sound of her chopsticks shattering under the force of her grip. Her usually calm expression flickered, a subtle twitch betraying her inner turmoil.

“It is… unique,” she said, her voice tight. “You have… a talent.”

Before you could respond, a faint thud came from outside. Looking out the window, you saw a stray cycrane lying on the ground, wisps of smoke curling from its beak.

Jingliu stood abruptly. “I must meditate on this experience. Alone.”

As she disappeared into the night, you sighed, looking at the uneaten plate. “Maybe I should take a cooking class.”

[mactiir]

sword misconceptions pt 1: longsword

Post series: shortsword | rapier | buckler | dagger | spear

so as I'm getting back into fantasy lit as a historical fencer, there are a lot of things I am noticing cropping up in swordfights that are inaccurate or flat out wrong. So i wanted to write a post for my fellow writers putting down a few things I've learned in 2.5 years of swinging the actual weapons around!

Disclaimer: i am not an expert. Additionally, many of the historical terms for weapons were not standardized (there was no "one" longsword/rapier/shortsword etc when we're talking about a weapon that existed for hundreds of years across an entire continent) so what I'm discussing under the cut is specific to the late medieval/early Renaissance European two-handed weapon with a simple hilt/crossguard and with a blade length around 3 feet -- what D&D calls the longsword, or in older editions the bastard sword (although if we want to get picky about it, bastard swords should have shorter handles than longswords -- but I wrote this post as a writing reference so names are beside the point. you can call the swords whatever you want in your story, anyway).

Misconception 1: longswords are heavy.

Older editions of D&D had these weapons at 6 pounds, which is about 2x too heavy. 5e has them at 3 pounds, which is exactly right. Your average longsword is between 2 and 4 pounds, and a well-made one will be balanced such that you barely feel it. Pound for pound, they are heavier than almost all one handed weapons (except some rapiers but we'll talk about that later), but between their balance and the fact you wield them in both hands, their weight is likely not going to be a prohibiting factor for most characters. Everyone who can pick up a wooden baseball bat can pick a longsword up and swing it. A weak or out of shape character will struggle for wielding it for lengths of time, though.

Misconception 2: longswords are slow.

You're 1) thinking of a zweihander and 2)zweihanders aren't slow, either, but we'll get to that later. Longswords, wielded properly in both hands, are lightning fast, with a skilled fencer that's opened their opponent's defense often able to land 2-4 hits before a director even registers the first hit and calls "halt". And there are two components to speed: actual velocity, and distance. Longswords are -- well, long. Even if you can't swing it as fast as a little knife, the fact that it's three feet long means you're closing to target much faster compared with a shorter weapon, because you don't have to do as much footwork to get into, or out of, striking range.

Misconception 3: you can wield a longsword in one or both hands.

I mean, you could. But a one-handed wield robs a longsword of a lot of its dexterity, grace, precision, and yes -- power. You want two hands on this thing. Your dominant hand goes closer to the crossguard and it's what generates your power and edge alignment. Your offhand on or near the pommel is where your dexterity and fine steering is. Switching or removing either of these hands feels weird and you are also way more likely to get disarmed just by trying to parry with one hand.

Misconception 4: swordfights are about dodging.

You have two realistic options when someone is swinging a longsword at you: parry or step out of range. You do not duck. You do not jump. You do not sway, roll, or do backbends. All of these things will 1) rob you of necessary structure to riposte, 2) leave you wide open for a renewed attack or remise, and 3) leave your most important tool for not getting hit -- your SWORD -- too far off target to help you. Yes, all of these things look super cool and may fit depending on your style and setting. But if you're going for realism, YOU PARRY.

Misconception 5: you can be fast or strong but not both.

Ok, this is more a pet peeve about martial arts in general but: you cannot be fast without a certain base amount of muscle. You CANNOT. Small people with no muscle are slow. They have to take huge, looping cuts to compensate for their lack of muscle and leave huge openings while they do it. Small people who do well at the sport are often very quick because they have to train the heck out of footwork to outwork bigger opponents, but that only comes with TRAINING. It's not a "small people are automatically dex builds" thing. And while big muscly guys are often slower, they also 1) have less distance to move to close to target, which makes them "faster" even if they are moving a tad slower and 2) they're also often fast as balls, so you can judge virtually nothing about an opponent based on their body type except for their reach. A good, big longsword fencer will often have really fast handwork because most don't do well in longsword fencing without speed.

Let me know if there are any lingering questions I missed! I may think of more later, but I hope this was helpful for now :)

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Nu carnival as a tops and bottoms. AMAB reader

Warnings: explicit language and actions. Blood mentioned 

Yakumo

Top: Service top all the way. He just wants you to be happy normally, but now he can make you happy in bed! Yeah he's going to do his absolute best! It's awkward and he doesn't really know how to do foreplay but that's okay because his moans when he slides into you sound like he's in heaven. 

Bottom: He wants nothing more than to be able to wrap his arms around you while you pound his tight hole. It doesn't take long for him to be a moaning mess. He cries a little when he cums, but that's just because the pleasure is overwhelming.

Edmond

Top: Nervous boy. Sweaty hands and heavy breathing before you even start. His military training gave him great stamina though. Just tell him what feels good and he is more than happy to follow orders.

Bottom: He cums so fast! He's really embarrassed and ashamed about how fast he came. Physically he prefers being a bottom but it hurts his ego to do so. Slow or fast, he doesn't care as long as you keep going until he's empty. 

Olivine

Top: Such a sweet boy. He would prefer if you take control and ride him but is also more than happy to fold you in any position you want. He probably won't do anything in the church, but anywhere else is fair game.

Bottom: Man has entered Nirvana. He sees you giving him so much pleasure as a spiritual experience. There's no way it could feel this good if it wasn't blessed by the god of Klein. His body is built like a tank so don't be afraid of being a little rough, he likes it that way.

Quincy

Top: He is so gentle with you. He has to be. Man is huge and if he doesn't spend a lot of time on stretching you out he will break you. He might not be very vocal but he loves making you scream in pleasure. He loves every sound that drips from your perfect mouth.

Bottom: My eyes have been opened to a whole new possibility! He's probably not very vocal but his panting is so hot. He doesn't really mind the position but if you're on top then pamper him. Let him be a pillow princess for a little bit. When you are both spent he is caging you in his arms and napping. He doesn't care about cleaning up right now.

Kuya

Top: Jerk. Yeah fine when he lets you cum it's better than anything else you have ever felt, but is it worth it to deal with his taunts and teasing? He's also really into edging you when he tops. He loves the control he has over your body. I also think he would use magic to make you more sensitive.

Bottom: Still a jerk. He's trying so hard to keep a cool demeanor and is saying shit like “you really think that's enough to make me cum”. Meanwhile you are pounding him into the mattress and he is loving it. Feel free to be rough with him too or use any of his toys, he doesn't want vanilla.

Blade

Top: He does not need rest so once he starts he will just keep going, and going, and going. You will lose count of how many times you cum and when you finally had enough he will make you cum one more time. He thinks you are so cute when you cum underneath him.

Bottom: Careful you don't make him short circuit. He was built with a lot of sensors so every time feels like the first time to him. He wants to make sure you are enjoying yourself so any position he can see your face is good for him.

Garu

Top: He will ask constantly if you are okay and if he's doing a good job. You feel so good he can't help but whimper. He keeps a hard steady pace and won't stop until he knows you're satisfied.

Bottom: Moaning mess. Greedy bottom who wants to feel more of you. Your whole dick can be balls deep and he'll still ask for you to go deeper. It's fine though, he will happily take whatever you give him.

Karu

Top: He is so excited when he gets to top you! He doesn't mean to be but he's kind of rough. You will walk away with plenty of bite marks on your neck, or really anywhere he can sink his teeth into.

Bottom: He's flustered but that only makes him cuter. When you hit his sweet spot we will rake his claws down your back. You may be the top but you're not coming out unscathed.

Dante

Top: You're cumming again? He hasn't even touched your dick yet and you're cumming. His hands are magic and unfortunately he knows it. He is so smug about it but as long as you feel this good does it really matter? He won't stop until you can't feel your legs, thankfully he's also good with aftercare. He needs to be perfect after all.

Bottom: He tries to keep a stoic face but you can hear the slight shaking in his voice and the way his eyes clouded with lust. He prefers positions where he still has some leverage but cares less about that after he cums. If you finish before him he will tease you about it.

Rei

Top: He's analytical so I think he would watch your reactions to gauge what you like. However I don't think he would use that to make you feel better. I don't know, he just seems impartial to your pleasure. Maybe he would use this knowledge if you complain about anything? 

Bottom: He will tell you exactly what he wants you to do to him. He gets annoyed if you can't follow his “simple instructions”. Again I think your pleasure is just a byproduct to him. 

Eiden

Top: He is probably the best top here. He has so much experience and will use every trick he knows to make you squirm in pleasure. He will do what's best for both of you to have a great time.

Bottom. Bliss. He's so happy to be a bottom and let you fuck him. Whether you go slow or hard or whatever he doesn't mind. To him all sex feels good and he is living his best life.

Aster

Top: He likes being in control. He doesn't even need to take his dick out most of the time to be a good top. He will take a little blood as payment for making you feel this good, the feeling makes your head spin. Hope you like tongue and teeth because he is going to taste every part of you.

Bottom: Brat. He doesn't usually let others take control of him so he's going to have to figure out fast what he likes. I think he would like if you tease him a little, but not too much. 

Morvay

Top: He can top? I can definitely see him taking control to service you but I don't think he'd be the best at fucking. His hips stutter at the slightest pleasure so his thrusts are short and unsteady. He'll make you cum in other ways but probably not with his dick 

Bottom: Yup he's happiest here. He wants to serve you. Your pleasure is literally what feeds him. If he's on his knees for you it's a good day! Any time any position, he is the best power bottom.

[htchnr]

★ mug after mug ❥ ASTARION.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon. ➻❥ kinktober masterlist.

🎃 KINKTOBER PROMPT ➥ outdoor sex.

CW ➥ smut insinuation ⋆ SORRY for no actual smut on day 1 😭 ⋆ but i think the fic works like this just fine ⋆ making out ⋆ mention of blood ⋆ cleaning a sword ⋆ alcohol consumption ⋆ Astarion has full armor on ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

WC ➥ 1K. SONG ➥ Bad Decisions, Girlhood.

SUMMARY ➥ it's no secret the two of you have been pining for each other. so after a tough battle, and a tough night of admiring Astarion from afar, you both give in.

★ - © 2023 HTCHNR. do not copy, share or translate my work to this platform, or any other! - ★

it shouldn't be fair really — for him to look that good while covered in blood and grime. the way his brows furrow in concentration as he cleans the blood off his sword by the lake. his hands expertly handling the blade. what you wouldn't do to have his hands all over you —

"think any louder and i might actually hear it," Astarion chuckles, not looking up from his blade. maybe it's the wine talking — you had at least two bottles of whatever you managed to yank off Halsin, and you knew Astarion has had his fair share as well.

he wipes the cloth across the sword, cleaning the last drops of blood off. he sets the blade down, standing up as he works at taking his chest plate off. "are you going to stand there, or are you going to join me?" he asks, turning his back to you as he pulls the heavy piece of armor off and sets it by his sword.

you head towards him, slowly, step by step until you've reached the dock. you take a deep breath as you can tell from the corner of your eye that all his armor is off, all that he has left is his tunic and trousers. fuck it, why not? you ask yourself, shaking your head as your hands move to take off your own armor as well.

he chuckles from behind you, "that's it darling." you don't have to look at him to know he's grinning, eyes probably dragging across your form as you drop piece by piece of your armor.

you take a deep breath as you loosen the strings of your tunic, it felt heavenly to be rid of your armor. you exhale, sitting down on the dock. you shiver as your feet dip into the water, gods that feels good.

you close your eyes, leaning back on your hands. a peaceful night like this is definitely what you needed after the ridiculously long journey that was behind you. the cooling effect from the water, the swirling thoughts from the wine — you almost didn't realise Astarion was sitting himself down directly in front of you, and before you know it he's lifting you into his lap.

your eyes flutter open, instantly sitting up so your hands could make their way to his shoulders — his own arms holding your hips. maybe you had too much wine, but you found yourself speechless — the way his eyes shimmered in the moon light, the way his soft yet rough hands felt against your waist — you almost forgot how to breathe.

not to mention the euphoric feeling of your core settled so perfectly above his aching erection. gods you were getting more soaked than a river..

Astarion leans in a little, those fingers you fantasise about coming up to brush some hair behind your ear. "are you going to kiss me, or do i have to find someone else for tonight?" his voice low and teasing – a gentle twinge of impatience laced in.

the thought of him with anyone else tonight? you didn't have to be asked twice.

a pleased sound leaves his lips as yours mold themselves to his, his hands coming up to cup your face as you kiss him. gods above, his lips were even softer than they looked.

your hands trail from his shoulders to his neck, a soft moan coming from you as you lay back, pulling him above you as he deepens the kiss. you barely felt the slight ache in your back when it hits the dock, with the way his lips were devouring yours, you couldn't focus on anything else.

you gently tug on the hair at the nape pf his neck, his lips parting from yours with a pleasured gasp. your lips twitch at the sight of his slightly pleasure furrowed brows — and to test the waters, you tug again, eyes closely watching the way his eyes flutter shut as you pull his lips back down by his hair. noted, you think to yourself.

you aren't the only tease tonight, a surprised moan leaving your lips as Astarion nudges one of his knees between your thighs, putting pressure just where you need it most. he grins into the kiss, as if he just scored a point.

"been wanting this for a while," you manage to get out between his lips. he teasingly bites down on your lower lip.

"what were you waiting for?" he asks, and you can tell from the tone in his voice that he's been waiting for this. he tugs your tunic over your head, tossing it aside with your armor. he tugs his own tunic off as well, throwing it off to the side.

you nip his lower lip, pulling back to look at him — and you find yourself drowning in his gorgeous red eyes. "honestly i have no damn idea," you whisper, one hand travelling his soft, naked waist — the other pulling his lips back against yours with a tug of his hair..

🎃TAGLIST — @toastbrot8410 @mrs-ssa-hotch @fictionallifestuff @weirdothatwritess @crystalflwr @stella95827 @taintedstranger @mija-novella @gffesegjoiegj @bubbly-parker @mediocremalachor15 @goldenangelwingsandcandy @0nex-is-dead0 @2hiigh2cry @the-1n0nly @hotchsdharma @tgskitten @crystlroses @notforeverlong @emmeilyy @whatisthereality

[mono-dot-jpeg]

child! reader w/blade, yanqing, natasha, & gepard

summary; thoughts being thunk about cute scenarios with child! reader

genre/extra tags; fluff, blade is probably ooc, don't give blade a child, yanqing being a big brother, yanqing and reader gang up on jingyuan, natasha my beloved, gepard big brother arc, but gepard is an awkward big brother, whoops my hand slipped now there's angst (natasha's part), blade wants to punt a kid (/hj)

[gender neutral! reader] [child 7-9! reader] [platonic]

[warnings; implied for reader to be heavily sick often (natasha)]

a/n; *smacks my head* this baby holds loads of child!reader ideas, thanks to their family being the way their family is. good ol' trauma. you didn't pick any characters in particular other than just non-express crew characters. hope you enjoy

it's a fucking miracle that you're even standing next to this man. kafka just had to give you to him. luckily, blade is less violent than he looks. and luckily for you, you hold no fear.

"you look ugly like that." you point at him, your tiny finger inching a little too close to his eye. "why do you look like that?" kafka stifles a laugh as she watches from afar.

"i can't believe i want to punt a child." he mutters. "i don't know, why do you look like that?" he retaliates.

"look like what? ms. kafka says i'm cute!" your hand goes limp to rest on your lap.

"you are anything but cute, you devil spawn."

you gasped, "ms. kafka! blade is being mean!" you get up to run to the woman, who is laughing silently. "he called me a devil spawn... whatever that means!"

"it means you're tiny. and stupid." blade says, watching as you hide behind kafka's leg.

"no, you're stupid!" you stick your tongue out at him.

"you little sh-"

"curse jar!"

"yannie!" you cheered loudly.

"y/n!" he cheers back. you run to him as he picks you up. "do you want to walk around today?" you nodded. "let's go get some allowance from the general first!"

"jing!" you and yanqing arrive at the general's office.

"if it isn't our little cloud knight." jingyuan watches as the young blonde puts you down to go run at him. "i could only wonder what you are doing here with yanqing."

"i wan' to explore with yanqing!" you climb up jingyuan's legs as he watches with a fond gaze.

"is that so?"

you nodded, "but me 'n yan need help." jingyuan looks at you confused before turning to look at yanqing.

"we need some money, general..." jingyuan raises an eyebrow, glancing at you who shows him puppy eyes. and then yanqing tries to play off his ask with an innocent grin.

jingyuan can't help but sigh, "for a lieutenant and a little cloud knight, you two sure are sly." he smiles gently.

"you think we can annoy serval?" an impish grin starts to grow on your face.

"we really shouldn't do that." gepard chides you. you groan.

"but i'm so bored! she's got cool ga- gad-gets."

"gadgets."

"yeah! i wanna see them! i wanna watch serval work!"

"she's probably busy, y/n." you huffed as you struggled in gepard's arms, "stop it!"

"what can we do then?" you pouted. "what do you wanna do?"

awkward silence...

"my idea is better! let's go see big sis!" you tug on his clothes as if it would anything to make him move faster.

"how about we make something for serval? wouldn't that be fun?"

"hm? making something like a gad-gets?"

"gadget. yeah, maybe something like that. or we can draw something for her, and she can put it up somewhere."

"yeah, let's do that!" you cheered, walking alongside gepard and putting your hand in his.

it's no doubt that your parents would leave you in the care of the nicer-est nurse in town (your words, not hers). even if you were a not so amazing state, you can't help but still be happy.

"i think you're a superhero, ms. natasha. i wanna make a story about you!" you've always been a creative soul, it was one of the few things you can do with being bedridden for days on end. writing was a favorite. but you really liked making comics.

"i'm just doing my job, dear. i think you should make a story about yourself." natasha speaks with fondness as she distracts you from getting a shot. "you're just as strong as a hero." her voice is bittersweet but you don't notice it.

"how about i make a story about us? we can be the best-est heroes in the world!" you beamed at your own genius suggestion. "i can be your sidekick!"

"i would love to see that story someday." she smiles. "i know it will be amazing as always." she places a band aid where your shot was taken. her thumb brushes over it once, then again. "i'll even put it up by your bed. framed and everything."

she just hopes you live to see another day.

[shepherds-of-haven]

please i need to know--how would the shepherds fare in a bakery AU?

Hmm, interesting question!

Blade: don't hire him. he would drive the customers away with his very presence. just imagine some dour black-clothed man looming in your charming bakery amidst the smells of custard buns like

truly disgusting stuff

Trouble: I think this would be manageable at first, but not ideal! he's really game to try any line of work for as long as it can hold his interest, and baking could appeal to him if you pointed out its scientific/chemical qualities! Aesthetically his cakes and desserts would look like this

...but his bread would be the absolute bomb! and he'd have such a friendly and casual attitude when you walked in that I feel like people around the neighborhood would fall in love with him lol. imagine him working a wood-fire oven!

Tallys: she would be an efficient worker who made delicious pastries with homegrown or foraged ingredients--very Great British Bakeoff in essence, where they're always talking about making their own pestos or growing their own tomatoes for things or whatever--but her personality is cool and courteous enough that people would feel slightly intimidated by her, like you can't just go to her and ask for your a Shrek cake for your son's 5th birthday party, she's an artisan and you have to treat her as such! (even if she never says so explicitly herself)

Shery: this is my dream for her. She's thriving, she has her own cozy bakery with all of the pastel sweets and cute little character macarons you could ever ask for, she constantly smells of sugar and vanilla and smiles warmly when you walk inside! she is the most successful in this AU of them all and eventually goes on to go viral once people discover her quaint little bakeshop!

Riel: he's an angel investor. he gave shery seed money to pursue her dream of being a baker. she parcels him up treats and petit fours and cookies and sends them to his house once a week, or he'll stop in on his way home from work (or send his butler to go get it when he gets a craving). but in no universe are you getting him to work in a bakery, lol. and nor would you want to! the man has no instinct for cooking or baking. all of his food ends up looking like this

the best you'll get out of him is that he makes every display in the bakery extremely, painfully symmetrical...

Chase: you're probably better off hiring him as, like, the greeter or sign spinner or flyer-distributor to get people into the bakery. like, he'd be great at charming customers into your store, but I highly doubt you'd want to trust him to do anything else in the bakery. he doesn't have the patience to be cooped up behind the register all day. he'd get distracted by all the fun ingredients in the kitchen if you tried to get him to follow a recipe and bake some cakes. heck, he'd probably be distracted thirty minutes into the whole venture and would just wander out of the shop, never to return! he might accidentally turn out something tasty now and then, but it's not enough to justify having him in your bakery lol

Red: i feel like he could have helped out in a family's friend bakery for a summer as, like, a favor and a seasonal high school job, lol. would he have enjoyed it? probably not, he'd rather be doing other things, but he'd be competent and attentive enough to keep things running at a decent clip! he'd be great at running the register and service end of things, or doing the numbers or deliveries, but only so-so at the baking/kitchen end of things. he'd make great coffee!

Ayla: she'd be fairly decent at this! I think if you put her in the kitchen and gave her detailed instructions on what to do, she'd resist it at first--scowl, scowl, this is dumb, this is boring, why am I cooped up back here like a slave??--but once she got into the rhythm of things, I could see Ayla enjoying slinging dough and cranking out simple things like cookies, biscuits, and bread. No finicky decorating or delicate stuff like frosting cakes--that's how you get cakes being smashed in fits of temper--but "one-and-done" products would be great for her!

Briony: she's brilliant behind the register, cheerily calling out greetings and wrapping up your pastries in their nice little boxes while making chitchat with you. she'd be a sunny presence that made everyone feel happy and welcome in the bakery. she might be able to help out in the kitchen as an assistant now and again, but it's probably not worth the trouble... she's just as likely to trip and knock over an entire shelf of flour, or accidentally squash a cake under her elbow when going to lean on a table, that it's probably just safer to keep her out of the kitchen altogether...

Lavinet: naur... maybe if you want her to be your hot cashieress, but even in an AU, I feel like there are a lot of jobs she'd take over working in a bakery or any kind of food service! flour? in her hair? i don't think so, darling! while she enjoys food and sweets, she has absolutely zero interest in how it's made or selling it, so this would not be a good fit for her at all!

Halek: baking isn't his passion, but he's obviously second-best at this bakery thing after Shery! I think he'd be one of those weird, elusive, sort of temperamental artist-bakers, the ones who are only open from like 4 AM-9 AM, you have to line up outside and stand on the sidewalk for like 20 minutes before you're allowed to buy up to 3 bagels because he only makes exactly 200 every two days, but once you finally get the damn thing, it's the best bagel you've ever had in your life! oh and he only offers plain and veggie cream cheese or an egg and sausage sandwich, no other options!

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

23. Who do you like?

Note: Here comes my favourite arc. Whose solo was everyone’s fav btw?

Masterlist here

The energy in the practice room was at an all-time high. Aespa had just received the official confirmation that their world tour was happening.

Yes. Synk Road: Parallel Line got the green light.

Even better, each member was preparing their own solo stages. The excitement was palpable as the girls bounced ideas off each other, rehearsed choreography, and fine-tuned their individual songs. The tour was going to be huge, and everyone knew it.

Y/n was doing his usual rounds, making sure everything was in order—managing schedules, checking on the set designs, and coordinating with the staff. But today, there was something different in the air. Something… was Up.

“…I feel uncomfortable.”

He should’ve sensed the impending doom earlier. Maybe it was the way the girls had been whispering amongst themselves, or the way Karina had been giving him sly looks all afternoon. But he was so busy with preparations that he didn’t see it coming—until it was too late.

It started innocently enough. Winter, with her mischievous smirk, sauntered over and leaned casually against the mirrored wall. “So, idiot, we’ve been talking…”

Y/n’s senses immediately went on high alert. “Stop. I don't trust whatever is coming out next.”

"Whyyyy!" Winter whined, having that signature pout on her face.

"Everytime you start with "we've been talking" or whatever, I have to choose stuff that's scarier than choosing my university."

Karina joined in, stepping closer with that unreadable expression she often wore when she was plotting something. “Well….We were just wondering something.”

Giselle and Ningning were already flanking him on either side, locking his arm like preparing for an execution. He could practically feel the walls closing in as all four of them surrounded him, cutting off any possible escape routes. Heck, he could feel a blade hanging on top of his neck.

Y/n put on his best poker face. “Okay… what is it?”

Ningning grinned wickedly. “You’ve heard all our solo songs by now, right?”

Oh no. The blade was loosening. He could see where this was going.

Y/n tried to play it cool, flashing a nervous smile. ���Uhuh…I’ve heard them. All of them rocks.”

“That’s not what we’re asking,” Winter chimed in, leaning a little closer. “We want to know—whose solo song do you like the best?”

The blade was really loose now, hanging on a thread!

The question hit him like a truck. His eyes darted from one girl to the next, desperately searching for an escape route, but there was none. They had him trapped, and they knew it. “Uh… I mean, they’re all great! You’ve each got your own vibe, and honestly, you’ve all done an amazing job—”

“Nice try, idiot.” Karina cut him off, her arms crossed as she raised an eyebrow. “But we want specifics.”

“Yeah, we’re not letting you out of this one,” Giselle added, a sly smile on her face. “You have to pick.”

Ningning, ever the playful one, made a show of fake-loading finger guns and aiming them at Y/n’s chest. “Come on, Y/n-oppa. Tell us the truth. Whose song is your favorite?”

Y/n felt the sweat starting to form on his brow. This was a no-win situation. If he picked one, the others would never let him hear the end of it. But if he didn’t pick, they’d torment him until he did. “Guys, c’mon… I haven't even seen the choreo. You can’t seriously expect me to choose—”

“We seriously do,” Winter said with a teasing grin. “And you better pick wisely.”

Y/n groaned internally. “Alright, fine. But no one gets mad, okay?”

The girls exchanged knowing looks, each with their own smirk. “Sure, sure,” Karina said, clearly lying.

Y/n sighed, taking a deep breath. His mind raced as he tried to figure out how to get out of this unscathed. “Okay, let’s see… Rina-ya, your song is so powerful and swag, it’s like this anthem of boss girl. Giselle, you're popping off with your vocal and rap, and your song is just Gen-Z material. Ningning, your voice is stunning, and your song will flip everyone's expectation and certainly won't be like your song title. And Minjeong…”

Winter tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. “Yes?”

“…Your song is really sparkling. Like, really sparkling.” He knew what he was saying.

The room went silent as all four girls stared him down, waiting for the real answer. He knew they weren’t going to let him off the hook with vague compliments.

Karina folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “That’s all nice and flattering, but we want a name, Y/n. Whose solo is your favorite?”

Y/n could feel the weight of their gazes pressing down on him. This was it. There was no backing out now. “Okay, okay… If I had to pick, and I mean really had to… then I’d say…”

He paused, looking around at their eager faces. “Spice it up. Up. Up. Roll Up”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Winter’s jaw dropped in shock, her eyes wide with betrayal. “What?! Jimin-unnie?!”

Giselle burst out laughing, slapping Y/n on the shoulder. “Wow! Didn’t see that one coming.”

"…yea, it's on my head for like a while now."

Ningning shook her head, pretending to wipe away a tear. “I thought we were friends, Y/n… but apparently, Karina-unnie’s anthem of girl crush wins.”

Karina, meanwhile, was basking in her victory. She shot Y/n a smug grin, clearly pleased with his answer. “See? I knew you had good taste.”

Winter, still reeling, crossed her arms and gave Y/n a mock glare. “I can’t believe this. After all the friendship, after all the memories… you didn’t pick me?”

Y/n raised his hands defensively, trying to fend off the inevitable backlash. “Ya, you told me to be honest! Plus, I'm being held like I'm at an execution!”

“Oh, you’re panicking alright,” Ningning teased, joining Winter’s side. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Karina, still enjoying the chaos, playfully nudged Winter. “Don’t worry, Minjeong. I’m sure he likes your song. He just prefers mine, you know? Can’t blame him.”

Winter shot Karina a side-eye, half-annoyed and half-amused. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, I definitely am,” Karina said with a wink, flipping her hair dramatically. "It's a win, after all."

Y/n, meanwhile, was trying to defuse the situation. “Listen, I love all your songs! You’re all amazing! I was just put on the spot—”

“You were not just put on the spot,” Winter interjected, her teasing tone laced with mock hurt. “You chose Karina. That’s a choice.”

Giselle, ever the peacemaker, laughed and threw her arm around Y/n. “It’s alright, Jeong. He’s just one guy. We all know who the real favorite is.”

Ningning nodded vigorously. “Yeah, don’t worry, Minjeong-unnie. You still win in my book.”

Winter sighed dramatically, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it slide this time.”

Y/n let out a relieved sigh, but it didn’t last long.

“Still,” Winter added, leaning in close to Y/n with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I will annoy the sht out of you for not choosing my song. Big time.”

Y/n chuckled nervously. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Nope!” the girls chorused in unison.

As the playful bickering continued, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Sure, he had picked Karina’s song in a moment of panic, but the teasing and chaos that followed had a strange charm to it. It was these moments—when they could laugh and joke, even in the midst of preparing for something as big as a world tour—that made everything worthwhile.

As the girls finally let him off the hook and returned to practicing, Y/n muttered under his breath with a grin, “Next time, I’m rolling a dice.”

-

A few weeks had passed since the "solo song" incident, and the tour preparations were in full swing. The members were practicing day in and day out, perfecting their solo performances, refining their choreography, and tweaking every little detail to make sure everything would be flawless on stage. Y/n, ever the diligent manager, was always nearby, making sure things ran smoothly—though he couldn’t shake off the memory of being cornered by the girls about his favorite song.

Winter, especially, had been keeping an eye on him ever since that day. She hadn’t forgotten that Y/n had chosen Karina’s song.

Like, at all. She was salty. This girl kept hanging around Y/n like moth to a flame, trying her best to hypnotize her childhood friend to like her song more.

If this path doesn't work, then dig another, she thought. And Winter hit the jackpot.

Today, the energy in the studio was buzzing. They were getting close to wrapping up the final details of the choreography for each solo, and things were falling into place beautifully. Karina’s solo had become a powerhouse performance, Giselle’s Gen-Z stage oozed charisma, Ningning’s vocals were melting hearts, and Winter’s choreography had finally reached its peak.

Y/n stood at the back of the practice room, arms crossed, observing each member as they rehearsed. It was during Winter’s turn that he found himself paying a little more attention than usual. Her stage presence had always been undeniable, but there was something about her solo performance that had started to grow on him. Maybe it was the energy she put into it, or the way her movements were so effortlessly smooth, the outfit maybe?

But Y/n couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

Winter caught him watching. As she danced, she shot him a playful glance, her lips curving into a knowing smile. He looked away quickly, trying to play it cool, but the damage was done. She knew she had his attention now.

After her run-through, Winter grabbed a water bottle and casually sauntered over to where Y/n was standing. “So,” she said, her voice teasing, “still leaning towards Jimin-unnie's song? Or have you finally come to your senses?”

Y/n chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Jesus, You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Hell no,” she replied with a grin, taking a long sip of her water. “I’ve got my pride, you know.”

Y/n laughed, his eyes meeting hers. “Well… if I’m being honest, your song’s been growing on me lately.”

Winter’s eyes lit up, her grin widening. “Seriously?”

He nodded, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, I mean, the choreography’s killer, and the vibe just… fits you, I guess. You’ve got this natural energy that really comes through. It’s hypnotizing to watch to be honest.”

Winter practically beamed at the compliment, her face lighting up like she’d just won a prize. “You finally admit it! Took you long enough.”

Y/n laughed, shaking his head. “Hey, I never said I didn’t like your song. You guys put me at gun point back then.”

“Mhm, sure,” she said, giving him a playful nudge. “But it’s good to know I’ve won you over. Your attention on me only, please”

Y/n smiled, genuinely happy to see her so excited. “Yeah, you’ve got me. It’s definitely my favourite now.”

Winter’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, the teasing atmosphere between them melted into something more sincere. “Thanks, Y/n. That means a lot.”

Before the moment could get too serious, Karina suddenly called out from across the room, her voice laced with amusement. “Hey, what’s going on over there? You confessing that Minjeong's your favorite now?”

"Song." Y/n glared. "Minjeong's song. You forgot that word, Yoo Jimin-ssi."

Giselle and Ningning immediately joined in, their teasing voices filling the room. “Oooh, are you switching teams?” Ningning grinned, clearly enjoying the drama. “I thought you were all about Jimin-unnie!”

Giselle smirked, crossing her arms. “Looks like someone’s changed his mind.”

Y/n threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Come on, guys, don’t start this again.”

Winter, however, was absolutely basking in the attention. “That’s right, he did change his mind,” she said with a triumphant smirk. “I win. Take that, Yoo Jimin.”

Karina shot Winter a playful glare. “Oh, so that’s how it is now? Just because your song has some cool choreography, you think you’ve got him?”

Winter shrugged innocently. “I don’t think, I KNOW.”

Ningning giggled, shaking her head. “Well, this just got interesting.”

Giselle chimed in with a grin. “You better watch out, Karina. Winter’s stealing your spotlight.”

Y/n groaned, running a hand through his hair as the teasing intensified. “Great, it's Rina vs Minjeong for the nth time.”

Karina, though, wasn’t about to let Winter have all the fun. “Alright, Y/n, you may have switched to Winter’s side, but just remember who’s got the anthem of boss girl,” she said, raising an eyebrow in mock challenge. "First impression is always good."

Winter rolled her eyes, still grinning. “Please, I’ve got him now. You’re old news.”

The girls continued their playful banter, each one tossing in their own jabs and teasing remarks as they circled.

Y/n. He stood in the middle of the room, caught in the middle of their playful chaos as they bickered over whose solo song was truly his favorite. Despite the teasing, he couldn't help but laugh. This was just how things were with Aespa—chaotic, fun, and full of energy.

As the laughter died down, Winter gave Y/n a soft nudge. “Don’t worry, you’re forgiven—for now.”

Y/n sighed in mock relief, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. “Phew. Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure I’d make it out alive this time.”

Karina smirked, shaking her head. “Just wait until the tour starts. We’ll see how loyal you are then. Full package will be the final factor.”

“Yeah,” Ningning added with a grin, “we’ll have a whole new batch of things to tease you about.”

Giselle nodded, her mischievous smile never leaving her face. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll even switch favorites again. Me, perhaps”

"Or me!" Ningning raised her hand.

Y/n chuckled, knowing full well that they’d never let him off the hook. “I guess I’ll just have to brace myself.”

But as they all returned to their practice routines, a small, genuine smile crept onto Y/n’s face. It wasn’t the teasing or the bickering that got to him—it was the fact that, through all the chaos, they were a team. They supported each other, challenged each other, and pushed each other to be better. And somehow, in the middle of it all, Y/n had found his place with them.

He watched as Winter took her spot in front of the mirror again, preparing for another run-through of her choreography, and his smile grew a little wider. It was moments like these that reminded him why he loved working with Aespa—stupid banters and stuff.

[karlachismylife]

And We Just Disagree

CW: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, mentions of arguments (no actual fighting written), reader is having bad feelings, but it's a good ending, smoking.

(Title from "We Just Disagree" by Dave Mason)

Having arguments is always hard. No matter the point of disagreement, no matter how big or small, loud or quiet, they always leave you miserable whenever you fail to find a compromise or convince someone to accept your point of view. Every fight strips all your defences clean off, right to the bare, hurting periosteum, scraped with the harsh blade of someone's animosity.

You'd rather never argue at all, but there are times where you can't just accept whatever you're given. You're not afraid to stand your ground.

But God, it never gets less exhausting. Especially with Simon.

You don't fight often, and whenever you do, you find a solution sooner or later. After sliding through the loops of the barbed wire he surrounded his six-layer walls, you found that he wasn't as bad with disagreements as one could think. He never yells, never lets offensive words spill from his lips - whenever he says something harsh, he's just beng honest. Maybe you'd preferred a little more sugarcoating, but you didn't choose this man for being easy to deal with.

Maybe that's why having actual fights with him hurts so fucking much. Because you want to be as gentle and accepting with him as possible and you know the wish is mutual, but sometimes you just bloody can't.

That's when you find yourself feeling vulnerable and unsafe in your own apartment. As if every time you lose Simon's unconditional support for whatever reason, you lose your home entirely. He stops whatever discussion you were having, pinches nis nosebridge, blond eyebrows painfully furrowed, and throws a gruff "I need a smoke" your way before slipping away to the balcony.

Outside the apartment door to smoke at the communal staircase, if he needs more time.

Going out for a whole circle around the apartment building - once, when you honestly thought you might break up over the issue.

Today is a balcony day. It's a slight consolation, but it fails to reach you as you curl up in a ball of gloom and misery on the living room couch - the balcony is in the bedroom - and feel your fingers get cold and unpleasant nausea rising somewhat up to your solar plexus. Not all the way to the throat, but it isn't any less irritating; your body knows something wrong and tries to tell you.

Stupid body that doesn't understand it's not an issue you can just resolve by puking a poisonous fruit out or cuddling up to the members of your pack for warmth. A genius and yet such a useless evolutionary mechanism.

The balcony door closes with an echo that makes you uncomfortable. Simon walks silently, a literal Ghost no matter the size, every creaking floorboard memorized without even trying, but you notice his shadow in the corner of your eye and feel the couch dip heavily underneath his mass.

He brought cigarette smell - a tangy clove aftertaste of an expensive, fashionably black cancer stick - and outside's coolness to the living room. It's the only familiar thing about a man that feels no closer than a stranger in your depressed post-fight misery pit.

"Lookin' good, love." His voice startles you, not because you weren't expecting to hear him speak, but because it sounds exactly like that - like a stranger just coming up to have a chat and hopefully learn your name, phone number and relationship status.

"You're not so bad yourself, I suppose." Your answer is a bit distant, but you accept the game. If it's strangers he wants to play, you'll be a stranger. No one said you have to be a convincing one. "I like you."

"I like your eyes," Simon retorts immediately, a small movement indicating he's turned his body towards you in an invitation. "Even when they're sad."

A tired sigh. You're tired. Your eyes are tired. Your body and mind are tired.

"I don't want to be sad. Not when I'm with you."

"I want to make you happy, then, love." He's being sincere. Just a lad offering something so simple and yet dsirable to someone he took a shine to.

Can he make you happy right now?

"I want to kiss you." It's not the solution to all problems, you know that, and yet you out your wish since it'll probably make the pathetic feeling of your own smallness go away.

"I want to kiss you too."

You finally turn to him, offering him to drown in your upset eyes, and Simon meets your gaze with the same solemn expression, a sad frown on his face right up until his big hand - smells uniquely like a hand of a man who just had a smoke - cups your face and pulls you in for a short, soft, shallow kiss.

Your stranger's kiss.

"Let's talk about it again, lovie," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours and brushing his thumb along your jawline reverently. "'M not gonna talk until ya say everything ya want, a'right? Will listen. We can resolve this, I know we can."

He's right. And he's there for you, so you can be there for him too. You clutch his loose T-shirt right under his collar and sigh, looking down as you feel warmth seeping back into your body reluctantly.

"Wanna kiss a few more. Then talk."

This is definitely not something Simon will ever argue against.

[sadseungmin]

hello! i love your writing. if you’re inspired can you maybe do cnc with lee know? and if it’s not taken yet can i be 🫧 anon

♡ consensual non-consent with a psychotic lee minho ♡

psychotic lee minho x afab reader | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

p.s. i hope this is to your liking, 🫧! and of course you can be 🫧 anon! ^^

⚠︎ tw: knife play, bondage, threats of murder, implied somnophilia

"Are you sure you want to do this, kitten? Remember, I won't stop just because you beg me to or say 'no'. You remember the safe word, right? I'm going to fuck you loose and stupid, so try not to forget it, ok? Can you do that for me, little kitten?" ೃ⁀➷

『 ↳♡･ﾟ psychotic!minho is a sadist ･ﾟ♡

Minho loves pushing you to your limits, relishing the mix of fear and pleasure that flash across your face whenever he inflicts pain on you. He's calculated, deliberate, and intentional, always aiming to evoke the strongest reactions from you.

What would Minho do to you...?

You've always preferred "vanilla" sex (safe and slow), but Minho needs more...stimulation, as evident by the rope and blindfold in his hands. You repeatedly say 'no' and 'stop it', kicking your feet and swatting at Minho's bare arms and chest, but it all proves futile. Minho just chuckles at your poor attempts to control the situation and overpowers you. He blindfolds you, tying your hands above your head and your legs to the bedpost, leaving you nude, vulnerable, and completely exposed. He teases your body, alternating between gentle caresses and sharp, sudden pain. One minute he's gently massaging your breasts, his lips and warm breath ghosting over their hardened nubs as he drinks in every whimper of yours. The next, he's nibbling on a nipple while his free hand tightly tugs on and squeezes your clit. The unpredictability keeps you on edge, and all you can do is pant and whimper out a pathetic 'please stop' while your tears soak the blindfold and your slick ruins the sheets underneath you. But truly, you don't want Minho to stop. Not even when you feel the cool metal of a very sharp knife trail lightly over your skin from your neck down to the pubic mound of your pussy.

"You like this, don't you, kitten?"

Minho taunts as he teases your clitoral hood with the very tip of the knife's blade. Your body stings from the shallow cuts scattered across your breasts, hips, and thighs. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you struggle to control your breathing and anxiety.

"You're beautiful like this. Bleeding. Helpless. Mine."

You whisper that you want him to stop and think he's insane, but that only earns you a slap across the face so hard, you bite your tongue. Your tongue and cheek throb, and the taste of copper fills your mouth, but you don't dare say the safe word. Minho's tip prods against your wet, hot hole as he continues to slowly fondle your pussy with the knife's blade. Your hole clenches uselessly around his tip.

You hear Minho click his tongue.

"That was a very nasty thing to say, kitten. I'm disa—"

He slams into you without warning, not giving you time to adjust to his girth.

"—ppointed in you!"

Sparks explode within your body, traveling from the soles of your feet to your sternum as Minho's hips piston in and out of you with abandon. Your back arches, your mouth drops open, and a loud, incoherent stream of noises escapes, barely carrying over the sound of skin slapping on skin. It's too much...everything is too much! But with the way Minho punches directly into your sweet spot with such speed and intensity, your brain melts. You barely register Minho pressing the knife to your throat and his breathy whispers in your ear, telling you how he could easily kill you—slit your throat right when you climax and watch you bleed out while still stretched taut on his cock.

"And—mmm, fuck—the best part is no-one is coming to save you from me. I can—mmm—do whatever I want to you, kitty."

You're on the brink of passing out, and you know once you do, Minho is definitely not going to stop. At that point, you'll be nothing more than a living fleshlight, and fleshlights can't speak.

You're fine with that. As much as you like to scream, fight, and beg for it to stop, you want to be ruined, defiled, and fucked brainless by Minho.

And Minho...?

Minho knows you best and will deliver every time.

He's pounding into you without mercy; your head begins to loll, and your noises quiet down. Minho breathes out a laugh, dark and victorious, and although you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your sweaty face, he still sounds faraway when he husks,

"Go ahead and let go, baby. When you wake up, I'll still be playing with my favorite toy."