#why are they always the most excessively violent too

[rxttenfish]

guess who immediately had Another Hyperviolent Nightmare the instant i fell back asleep ✌

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 24: The Last First Time

Summary: You and Simon both get what you want.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 15,019 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough sex (it's like straight animalistic y'all), grinding, mutual masturbation, fingering, slightly violent imagery, scratching, biting, hair pulling, dry humping, blood (only a little), slight BDSM vibes, licking, squirting, praise, fluids (so many fluids), choking (only for a second), Simon's oral fixation, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, slight fluff, language, Simon being Simon, excessive use of the word "fuck", it's basically porn with very little plot.

A/N: This...this thing is a beast. It beat me up and stole my lunch money. I may have been a bit ambitious with it, but I've denied the Ghosties long enough and so I'm making up for that. Anyway...this might be one of the most depraved things I've ever written (not really, but you get the point). He'd the warnings, and I don't recommend reading this in public. Or standing. Or in underwear you care about. It's a good thing today is Sunday because y'all are gonna need Jesus after this.

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*This is the gif*

Your teeth sink into your lip as you slowly draw your gaze back to his face. He’s still looking at the bear, and once again, you wish you could see his face so you could guess what was going through his head. 

“I missed you.” You say quickly, ready to explain away the shirt and why you put it on that bear specifically. “A lot.” 

His eyes turn back to you, the intensity in them almost forcing you to take a step back. Any words trying to explain your actions die on your tongue as you hold his dark gaze, your heart thumping in your chest so loud you’re surprised he can’t hear it. A quiet sound rumbles in his chest as he looks at you, his eyes darkening just slightly. He takes a step closer, your head tilting up so you can hold his gaze. 

“Then I best make up for it.” He says, his hand moving to your side. His fingers bunch the fabric of the dress at your hip, lifting the hem a couple of inches. “Yellow sundress?” He asks. 

“Johnny bought it for me.” You say, your voice wavering from the anticipation of his touch. “I-It was nice out today, so I wanted to wear it.” 

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, releasing the fabric to drag his hand up your side, stopping just under your breast. 

You want him to continue, to push his hand higher, to finally touch you. You feel electric, every nerve fiber in your body alive as you stare up at him. Yet, you can see the hesitation, the conflict in his eyes. 

“We don’t have to.” You say, leaving that option open for him. Sure, it might be a little difficult after being so worked up, but the last thing you want is to push him too far. You can always get one of the other members of your pack to help ease that ache. “You just got back. There’s...there’s no need to rush it.” 

His fingers tighten around your side for a moment before he releases you, turning his back to you. You begin to panic, wondering if you pushed too far, made too many assumptions, made him too uncomfortable as he walks to the door. You’ve done it, you’ve messed things up and now it’s all crumbling down around you. 

His hand wraps around the knob, slowly pushing the door closed until it clicks. He stands there with his back to you for a moment before he turns back around. You let out the breath you had been holding, trying to calm the panic. Of course he’d want the door closed. This is just between you and him right now. 

You hold a hand out to him, trying to fight the tremble of your fingers. Your emotions are swirling and you need his reassurance. You need his grounding presence. 

He approaches you again, each step slow and calculated as he reaches out, his fingers brushing your palm before he wraps them around your hand. You close your hand around his as best you can with how big it is. You lift your gaze to his, the temptation to fold under the intensity strong, but you refuse. You need to be strong for him, for both of you. Your gaze doesn’t leave his as you slowly turn, walking backwards towards your bed, leading him by the hand with you. 

Your gaze finally leaves his as you turn to face your bed, stopping dead in your tracks. Simon’s chest brushes your back, obviously not expecting you to stop so suddenly. Something tickles in the back of your mind as you stare at the mess that’s become of your bed. The blankets and pillows are still a bit rumpled and misplaced from your lounging earlier, but something’s wrong. Something’s off, something’s not right. 

“Wait.” You say, dropping Simon’s hand before taking the two steps to the edge of your mattress. 

You move the giant bear to the floor next to the bed before you fix the blankets, smoothing them out and making sure they’re just right. You rearrange your stuffed animals and pillows, the need for them to be perfect taking over your mind. You can’t control it, can’t stop it until everything is perfect. 

You take a step back, staring at the nest you’ve made. 

Nest. 

You’re nesting again. 

You turn to face Simon, blinking up at him as the haze clears. He’s staring at you intensely, hands curled into fists at his side. “Sorry.” You murmur, hands closing around the fabric of your dress nervously. “I-I don’t know what-” 

“Don’t.” He says, the word sharp and biting. “Stop apologizing for your instincts.” 

“Sorry.” You say again, wincing at the instinct to immediately apologize. 

He rolls his eyes, closing the distance between you. You take half a step back, your legs hitting the mattress and you’re ready to sit on it when he grabs your hand, flipping your positions so fast it nearly makes you dizzy. He seats himself on the mattress instead, staring up at you. The look in his eyes takes your breath away as he tugs you to stand between his parted thighs. 

He tugs the bottom of his mask up and you don’t even have to be told, your head immediately lowering to kiss him. You rest your hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath them. His hands close around the back of your thighs, calloused skin biting at the softness of your own. Goosebumps rise on your skin, covering your body from the sensation. It’s nothing new to you, but he’s new to you. You’ve never been in this position before with him, never under these circumstances. 

His kiss is searing, just as the first one had been. He kisses you like a man starved, like he wants to devour you. It’s sloppy and wet, his hands squeezing around your thighs until your lips part in a gasp, and he takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You press closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands begin to crawl up the backs of your thighs, warmth blossoming in your stomach again as they slip under the hem of your dress, continuing higher and higher. 

His fingers brush the skin where your thighs and ass meet, before continuing upwards until they brush the fabric underneath your dress. He groans into your mouth, pulling away from your lips. “Turn around and show me.”  

You shiver at the growl in his voice, turning slowly between his knees until your back is to him. You slowly lift the hem of your dress until it’s bunched around your waist, the cool air in the room brushing your exposed skin. You hear the sharp inhale as he stares at you, his fingers twitching against the sides of your thighs. 

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, his hands gripping the sides of your thighs as you bend over just slightly, causing the fabric to ride up slightly higher. 

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stand there under his critical gaze. You had planned this after Johnny’s hint that you should wear the dress since the weather was going to be nice. You knew there was more to it than that, the subtle hint that Simon would enjoy seeing you in it. The panties had been a deliberate choice just on the off chance that something like this would happen. You’re glad you made that decision now, half bent over with your ass in Simon’s face, showing off the black, skull print fabric adorning your skin. 

Simon curses again, his hands gripping your waist to tug you back into his lap. Your back collides with his chest, but he offers no complaint as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants as you press back against him, the knowledge that he’s turned on by just the sight of your ass in skull print panties sending heat rushing between your own thighs. 

You tilt your head to the side, meeting his lips as you press back against him, his hands hot against your stomach. You need him to lower his hand, press it between your thighs, relieve some of the ache. 

His arms release around you and you turn in his lap, straddling his thick thighs. His hands settle on your own thighs, rocking your body against the prominent bulge in his pants. You continue to kiss him, gasping into his mouth as your clothed slit drags against the rough fabric of his jeans. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin below his mask. You can feel the hair at the nape of his neck, the short strands prickling your fingers. 

Simon pulls away from your lips, releasing his hold on your thighs. You freeze, holding your breath as you wait for what’s going to happen next. You’re worried perhaps you went too far, or perhaps he’s having second thoughts. He drops his head to your chest, pressing his face against your clothed breasts. He holds himself there, taking a shaky breath in. 

“We don’t have to.” The words come spilling out. “We can stop any time.” You rub his upper back, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders. 

“‘S not fair to you.” He murmurs, his breath hot through the thin fabric of the dress. 

“I’ll be fine.” You say, moving off his lap. 

He lets you, releasing his hold around you. He doesn’t lift his head, still bowed almost in shame. You sit next to him, close enough your arm is pressed against his. 

“Like I said, there’s no rush.” You say, trying to reassure him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, closing his hands into fists. There’s more emotion in his voice than you’ve ever heard before, the sound almost startling compared to the usual gruffness and bite to his words. 

“You won’t.” You shrug. “I can handle Johnny just fine, and John.” You put your hand over one of his. “I would tell you, if you hurt me, or if I got uncomfortable. I’m not as breakable as you think. You’ve thrown me around in training and I’ve been fine.” 

A low sound rumbles in his chest at your words. It sends a shiver down your spine, half of your brain telling you to run, and the other half sending heat between your thighs. He sits up straight, pulling his mask down as he turns to look at you. “Touch yourself.” 

“W-What?” You ask, taken aback.

“Touch yourself for me.” He repeats himself. 

You hesitate for half a second, before you nod. “O-Okay.” You reply, thrilled and nervous at the idea. 

You push yourself up further onto the bed as Simon adjusts himself so he’s against the headboard, lounging in your bed. You ignore the feelings rushing through you at the sight of the big alpha in your nest. It’s almost comical, seeing him in his dark clothes, an imposing figure surrounded by soft blankets and stuffed animals and colorful pillows. You lean against the footboard at the end of your bed, adjusting yourself so your thighs are spread, giving him a perfect view of your fabric covered pussy. You slip your hands under the waistband of your panties, but he stops you. 

“Leave them on.” He growls, eyes glued at the slightly darker patch of fabric between your legs. 

You slowly release your panties, tugging the hem of your dress up higher before you slip your hand into your underwear. You’re soaked, your fingers slipping along the slick skin. You stare at Simon’s face, his eyes glued to the movement of your hand under your panties as you begin to tease your clit. There’s an obvious tent in his pants, a painful looking bulge in his jeans. 

A quiet sigh leaves your lips as you circle your clit slowly, spreading your legs even further, draping one over his. His hands settle on his stomach as he watches, his breathing slow and even. 

Your breathing has picked up as you continue to tease your clit. Between the moment shared with him and the intensity of his gaze on your clothed pussy, it’s almost too much. You could cum just like this, barely touched, shivering under the gaze of your pack’s second alpha. It’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with him, and you’re not even naked. 

You slip your fingers lower, gathering slick on them before pressing two into your throbbing pussy. You moan softly at the slight stretch, your eyes focusing on his hands and where they rest on his stomach. How full you’d be on his fingers. Yours are nothing compared to his. The depths he could reach, the delicious stretch of them. You sink your teeth into your lip, biting back a moan as you begin to thrust your fingers in and out of you. 

His scent is intensifying, growing muskier in his arousal as he watches you. For once he doesn’t complain about the sweetness of your scent, the two mixing in the air, the perfect blend of alpha and omega. 

“A mixture someone could get drunk off of.” 

That’s what John had said. You want to, let it flow straight into your brain and numb your senses until there’s nothing but the two of you. Until you’re full of giddy happiness and warmth as your limbs go lax and all tension and stress leaves your body. Until you forget where you are, lost in some far away land where there’s nothing but you and the overwhelming scent of alpha, of Simon. 

A shudder wracks through your body, your scent intensifying as pleasure begins to sear through your veins. Simon’s nose twitches beneath his mask, his pupils dilating as your scent goes straight to his brain. You wonder what kind of iron grip he’s keeping on himself, how he’s managing to hold himself back. You’d jump his bones right now if he hadn’t set this boundary between you. Perhaps it’s that boundary keeping him still on the bed. There certainly wouldn’t be any complains from you if he crossed that boundary, ripped your hand from your panties and fucked you until you couldn’t move. 

“Fuck.” He growls, almost as if he could read your thoughts, as if there was some sort of telepathic link between the two of you giving him a glimpse into your mind. It would explain how in tune he is with you, how he always seems to know, how easily he can read you. 

Your movements falter as he slides his hand down his stomach, tugging at the button on his jeans. You watch, enraptured as he slips his own hand into his pants, palming at his bulge. Your mouth waters at the thought of finally seeing him, of getting a glimpse of what lies beneath. He’s big, you know he has to be. Alphas generally are, thick and long to match their build.

Your pussy clenches at the thought of the stretch, how he’ll have to open you up with his fingers first so it doesn’t hurt. He’ll take good care of you, making sure you’re nice and slick and ready for him before he sinks into you, still stretching you with his cock. 

A needy moan falls from your lips as slick gushes around your fingers, increasing the wet squelch of them with every thrust. Simon’s hand slips under his briefs, wrapping around his cock. You keep your gaze on the movement of his hand beneath the fabric as he pumps his length in time with the movements of your hand. 

Your free hand grips the sheets under you as you adjust the position of your fingers, pressing your palm against your throbbing clit. The coil in your stomach is tightening, your thighs beginning to shake as you get closer and closer to the edge. 

“Gonna cum?” He rasps, his hand pumping his cock faster as he chases his own high. “Gonna cum for me?” 

“Yes!” You gasp out, curling your fingers against that spongy spot inside you. “Yes!” 

He curses, the word a drawn out rumble in his chest as your thighs close, squeezing around your hand as you cum around your fingers. Your back arches as you nearly spasm from the pleasure, working yourself through the orgasm as he grunts in pleasure from his own approaching orgasm. 

Your body settles, still shaking slightly as you withdraw your fingers from your underwear. They’re shiny with slick and your cum and you lift them to your mouth, letting your tongue dart out to lick at your own juices. 

The sound Simon lets out is nearly animalistic, the pace of his hand frantic as his head tilts back, his hips jerking. You watch him cum, the muscles in his arms flexing as he spills into his underwear. It’s beautiful, the sight of him lost in pleasure. You wish you could see his face, see the way he looks in this moment, but you can’t. Instead you focus on the way his eyes flutter, those long blonde lashes golden in the light from your lamp. 

His breaths are heavy, chest heaving as he comes down from his own high. Your own breathing has settled as you lay there lax at the end of your bed. It’s quiet between you for a moment, his gaze locked on yours. How far things have come just from a couple weeks of distance from each other. It’s impossible not to wonder if something happened, if there was a close call that caused him to think of all the things he’d regret not doing. Or perhaps it was just the distance, the realization that holding himself back was foolish and pointless. You’d welcome him with open arms, just as you had when he walked down the ramp and onto the tarmac. 

He had been the one to make that first move, kissing you when you least expected it. What had gone through his head to cause such a reaction? Had he panicked just as much as you would have, overthinking it until he convinced himself you wouldn't want it? Did the emotions of the moment take over and he couldn’t stop himself from giving in to those desires? Or had he simply faced those fears head on and did it because he wanted to? 

He knows how you feel. The kiss in the car had confirmed that, and you inviting him into your space was the gavel strike that sealed your fates. You don’t want to turn back, you wouldn’t turn back, not after everything. 

Simon moves first, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of your bed. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking, what’s going on in his head. He doesn’t regret this decision, does he? You’ve leaped over the boundaries he’d once set, sharing such an intimate, vulnerable moment with each other. You’d let him go if he wanted to leave, no matter how desperately you’d want to cling to him and beg him to stay. 

He pushes himself up to stand, jeans still unbuttoned as he turns to face you. “Be right back.” He says, leaning down to press a kiss to your head through the mask before he heads into your bathroom, closing the door. 

You let out a quiet breath, sitting there for a moment before you get up, tugging your sundress off. It’s late, the others likely in bed already, or heading that way. You wonder if he’ll be permitted a day off tomorrow, or if he’ll even want to take one. You know how strictly he likes to keep to his schedule, even when he has to be utterly exhausted. 

You’re tempted to pull his shirt off the bear and wear it as you stand there in nothing but your panties, but you’re not sure if that will be pushing too much at once. You decide against it, instead digging out a baggy shirt from your dresser, pulling it over your head. 

You rearrange your nest as water runs in the bathroom, pushing most of the pillows and stuffed animals to the end of the bed before you turn down the blankets, climbing in. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you lay down, unable to stop yourself as you press your face into your pillow and inhale deeply. Your tongue darts out, pressing against the fabric before you can stop it. It’s musky and slightly tangy, making your mouth water. You want to lick it from the source, wrap your teeth around Simon’s scent gland and devour him. 

Your mind is hazy as you push yourself away from the pillow, blinking away the animalistic thoughts seeping to the front of your brain as the bathroom door opens. Simon steps out, taking a couple slow steps to the middle of your room. He stands there like he’s unsure of what to do next. Should he offer to leave, or ask to join you in bed? You can see the hesitation, the conflict as he tries to decide which is okay, which one might be the best decision. 

“You could join me, if you want.” You say, giving him an offer, a chance at a decision. You wouldn’t be upset if he left, well, not entirely. He’s shown a lot of vulnerability tonight, and you wouldn’t blame him if he wanted space to think over things. You don’t want him to leave, but you’d understand if he did. 

“Is that what you want?” He asks, shifting on his feet. 

“I did offer.” You shrug. “It’s up to you. I can always cuddle the bear.” 

His gaze drops to the bear seated on the floor next to the bed, still wearing his black t-shirt. His hands curl into fists before he looks back up at you. “Move over.” 

You try to hide your grin as you press yourself back against the wall, watching as he unbuttons his jeans again. He pulls them off, folding them in half before draping them over your footboard. This is the most exposed he’s been in front of you, the most skin you’ve seen at one time. You can’t help but stare at his legs, thick thighs dusted with dark blonde hair and covered in scars. They’re not surprising to you, not after seeing the others, though he has the most by far. Small lines, pink and white speckling the skin. There’s a puckered scar on one calf, a bullet wound you now know. There’s a long, thick scar on the other thigh cutting from the side of his knee, up his thigh until it disappears under his briefs. 

You quickly avert your gaze as you realize he’s standing there, watching you. He quickly crawls under the blankets, a nervous sweat starting to form across your back. You don’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but it’s hard not to stare. You want to know, you want every story that explains every scar. You can’t even begin to imagine the horror of the big one on his leg. So far John has been the only one to tell you about all of his scars, as much as he could at least. Johnny had relayed a couple dramatic stories about his, and Kyle has told you about a couple when you’ve asked. You’re not even sure you could ask Simon, much less how you would go about it. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you’re suddenly yanked down against Simon’s chest, his arm wrapped around your back. 

“You’re thinking too much.” He says, shifting just slightly to get comfortable on the small bed. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you, forcing you to nearly lay half on top of him. You’ve never wanted that dream of a bigger bed to be more true than in this moment. 

“Sorry.” You say, wincing at your instinct to apologize again. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Not uncomfortable.” He says, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Just not used to it yet.” 

“Is that why you keep yourself covered as much as possible? The scars?” You ask, biting your lip as soon as the question comes out. You hadn’t meant to ask it out loud, but you can’t stop your curiosity. 

“Partly.” He says, his thumb stroking your back. “People like to stare, they like to talk.” 

“I don’t care about the scars.” You say quietly. “You all have them. Just...makes me worried thinking about the things that caused them.” 

He hums quietly, the sound vibrating in your ear. “Some scars are symbols of survival. Things that almost killed us, that should have. Some are old wounds the body won’t let go of.” 

“That’s very poetic.” You murmur. 

His hand squeezes your side. “Don’t tell Johnny. He’ll never let me live it down.” 

A sleepy smile tugs at your lips, the exhaustion of the day and the bliss from the events of the last hour begin to drag your mind into the realm of sleep. Simon reaches for your lamp, shutting it off, bathing the room in near darkness.The dark doesn’t scare you anymore, not with Simon here. His violence and brutality should scare you, but instead, it only makes you feel safe. He’d make anyone who dared to try and hurt you pay. 

“Sweet dreams, Simon.” You murmur, a quiet purr rumbling in your chest, content as you drift off to sleep. 

It’s light out, the first rays of sunlight streaming through your window. You rub your eyes from the offending light, reaching for your sheets to tug them over your head but they’re caught around something. Your elbow knocks against something solid as you try and pull them up, a quiet grunt sounding beside you. 

Arms wrap around you, pinning you against a solid warmth. “Stop movin’.” Simon grumbles, tossing a leg over you to keep you still. 

You’ve traded places with him in the night, his back against the wall as you lay stretched out on your back. A quiet purr starts rumbling in your chest as the memories from last night begin to seep through your half-awake brain. He stayed the whole night with you. You had half expected him to get up, to leave, to wake up early, stick to his normal routine. Instead he’d stayed, even far later than he usually would. 

You turn your attention to the arm wrapped around you, your eyes trailing his tattoos. You’ve never seen them this close, able to make out the details of them now. Your fingers begin to trace his tattoos, working your way up his arm until you reach his sleeve, pushing it up as you continue to follow the tattoos all the way up to his shoulder. It’s when you get there you see something familiar. You hold his sleeve out of the way as you trace over the three images. 

“You got a tattoo for each member of the pack.” You say quietly. 

“Almost.” He says, tightening his hold around you. “Missing one.” 

You turn as best you can to look up at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. His eyes are still closed, and had you not known better, you might have guessed he was still sleeping. His breaths are slow and even, his body still and relaxed. 

“What are you going to get?” You ask. 

“Haven’t decided yet.” He says simply. 

You turn in his grasp, managing to free one of your legs so you can toss it over his hip as you snuggle in close to him. “You could get a kitten, since that’s what Johnny calls me.” 

He snorts. “Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” You say. “A fluffy little kitten would be cute!” 

“It would throw off the aesthetic.” He says, squishing you up against his chest. 

“Can I go with you when you get it?” You ask. 

“We’ll see.” He sighs, adjusting his leg between yours. 

You bite your lip as it presses against your mound. How easy it would be to press your hips down, grind against him. There’s still a warm electric current thrumming through you from the events of last night. Things have moved fast between you. You’ve gone from thinking he hates you to masturbating in front of each other in a matter of weeks. The leaps you’ve made between the two weeks he was gone almost seem surreal. Does he regret last night? Will he change his mind, retreat back into himself once the reality sets in? You had thought there was no going back once he stepped into your room, but in reality, he could decide to pull back, he could decide this isn’t what he wants after all. 

You’d let him. You’d watch him revert back into himself, face the pain of rejection and acknowledge that what you wanted turned out to be nothing but a dream. His comfort matters more than your needs. You’d fight to cling to the fraying bonds for nothing else besides the sanity and stability of your pack. His rejection would slice clean through those supposedly indestructible bonds, disrupting the dynamic of the pack. It would fracture, crumbling like a building with a structural failure. The bonds that they built with each other, the bonds they’ve built with you will snap leaving decaying waste with you and Johnny caught right in the middle of it all. 

You’ll do everything in your power to cling to those decaying edges, frantically gluing them back together like omegas are supposed to. Fight to hold the pack together while the betas desperately try to resolve the tension and keep everyone sane. It will be the end of the pack, the initiative will be a failure. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have pushed so much. It’s all going to go down in flames because of you. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” 

The quiet rumble of Simon’s voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. It drags you back to reality, back into your body from the quickly deepening hole of worry and fear in your mind. Your eyelids flutter as you take a deep breath, the musky scent of alpha clearing away the haze that had come over your mind. You’re still laying in Simon’s arms, pressed up against his chest, his thigh pressed between your legs. 

“How do you always know?” You murmur, snaking your arm around his side. 

“You have tells. You freeze, staying so still even the best snipers in the world would be impressed. You get this glazed over look in your eyes, and your scent changes depending on what you’re thinking about.” He says, tightening his hold around you. 

“You notice all of that?” You ask in amazement and embarrassment that he can read you so easily. You’re still not used to it, his uncanny ability to just know things when it comes to you. 

“‘S part of my job,” He says, shifting slightly closer to you. “What makes me so good at it.” His face presses against the top of your head as his thigh shifts between your legs, putting even more pressure against your clothed pussy. “You’re overthinking this, aren't you.” 

“I just...” You let out a shuddering breath, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “I need to know if you regret last night.” 

A low grumble vibrates through his chest before you find yourself suddenly on your back under him. It happened so fast your brain can’t even register it completely, his hand is gripping your thigh, the one you had thrown over his waist, keeping it hooked over his hip. He’s pressed between your legs, body slotted against yours like he was made to fit there perfectly. Hard edges pressed against your soft curves. 

“Does this feel like regret to you?” He says, voice rumbling deep in his chest as he presses his hips into yours. 

You can feel him...all of him through his briefs as he presses against you, nothing but thin fabric separating you. He’s just as big as you imagined, long and thick and throbbing. He drags his hips along your covered slit, closer than he’s ever been to you. The electrifying moment during training is almost nothing compared to the feeling of him pressed against you. 

“No.” You squeak out, wrapping your arms around his back as he continues to grid against you. You can feel every inch of him against your quickly dampening underwear, the fabric sticking to you and providing delicious friction with every roll of his hips. 

Your hands slip under his shirt, your palms pressing against the warm skin of his lower back. A shudder runs through him, dragging a low growl from his lips. He releases you just long enough to tug his mask up over his mouth before he descends on your neck, your head tilting to the side to give him room. 

The front of his briefs are quickly getting wet from the slick coating your thighs and his precum. Your nails sink into his skin as his teeth scrape across your throat, his tongue following to ease the sensitive, stinging skin. 

“Simon,” You whimper, pressing your hips up against him, desperately seeking relief from the ache building in your core. 

He lifts his face from your throat, your lips clashing against his in a mix of teeth and tongue. His hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. He uses his hold on you for leverage as the drag of his hips becomes almost violent. You can imagine it, the feeling of his cock thrusting into you, reaching so deep you can feel him in your stomach, the way you’ll ache for days after he’s done with you. 

“Simon, fuck...” You whine against his lips, your legs shaking as you get closer and closer to the edge. “Please!” 

His grunts and moans have turned into growls, low and deep in his chest. It sends a shiver up your spine, your omega rolling in your mind, scratching to be free. You sink your teeth into his lower lip until you taste blood, the air between you quickly becoming primal. His hand tugs on your hair, pulling your head back until your throat is bared to him. He sinks his teeth into the skin, biting until you yelp. He eases back, dragging his tongue over the sore spot. 

Your moans get louder as you get closer and closer to the edge, every sharp bite of his teeth into your neck sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to where his cock drags against your clit. You feel alive, your vision getting sharper as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“Simon....Simon please.” You whine, clutching him to you so tightly it almost hurts. “I need you. Need you to rearrange my guts, fuck me until I can’t stand. Make me hurt, remind me that I’m yours.” 

A low growl reverberates in his chest, vibrating through your entire body. Your thighs squeeze around his hips, hanging onto him for dear life as he ruts against you like an animal. “Say it again.” He growls, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your ear. 

“I’m yours.” You gasp, your back arching. “Have been since the first day.”

“Fucking hell.” He grunts, grinding his hips against yours with so much force the headboard bangs against the wall. 

You cum almost instantly, soaking your underwear and his briefs. He shoves his face into your throat, inhaling deeply against your scent gland. His hand grips the pillow next to your head, his body tensing as his hips jerk against yours. Warmth coats his briefs as he spills into them for a second time in the last day, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as he nearly goes limp on top of you. 

Both of you lay there, shaking and twitching in the aftershocks of your orgasms. It’s hot and stuffy in the room, the heat from Simon’s body not helping any. For a moment you wonder if he’s fallen asleep again from how still and relaxed he is, but the twitch of his body as you soothe your hands over the marks you’ve left on his back says otherwise. 

“Simon?” You speak his name quietly in the sudden stillness of the room. 

“Soon.” He says, slowly beginning to untangle himself from you. “I’ll give you what you need soon.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, shockingly soft compared to what had just transpired. 

He slips a hand around your back, flipping the two of you again as he flops on his back on your bed. You fall against his chest, resting your head over his heart. Despite the exertion, it’s thumping steadily and evenly. Your pussy clenches at the thought of his stamina, how long he’ll be able to go. You’ll tire before him, nothing but a boneless, babbling omega as he fucks you blind and unconscious. 

The moment is ruined by the knock at the door, both of you tensing for a moment. 

“If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss breakfast.” John’s voice sounds from the other side. 

Your cheeks warm at the idea of him hearing what had just transpired. How long has he been standing out there, waiting for you to finish? Does he think Simon was just fucking you, or does he somehow know you had just been rutting away like two eager pups? You can picture the tent in his pants, the way he adjusts the painful bulge at the thought of you being taken by his second alpha. He’s been waiting for this, for the walls to finally come down, for you and Simon to finally release that pent up energy and remove the weight that has been hovering over everyone’s heads. 

“Come on,” Simon says, sitting up with you in his arms. “Need to get some food in you.” He stands, still holding you like it’s nothing to him. It probably isn’t, but the thought has your face nearly bursting into flames. 

He sets you back on your feet, his hands lingering on your sides. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in the beautiful brown irises. He holds your gaze for a moment before delivering a sharp swat to your ass. 

“Get yourself cleaned up, then we’ll go.” He pulls away from you, grabbing his jeans off the end of your bed. 

You stare at his ass as he bends over to pull them on, an idea popping in your head. “Wait,” You say before he can leave, pulling off your panties. You tuck them into his back pocket, giving it a firm pat. “Keep them.” You stand up on your toes, kissing his cheek before scurrying off to the bathroom before you get distracted again. 

You’re still shaking as you tug your shirt over your head. You look like you’ve been mauled by an animal as you stare at yourself in the mirror. There’s marks across your neck from Simon’s teeth, and your hair is a tangled mess from his hands. Your thighs are trembling a bit as you stand there, your slick drying uncomfortably on your thighs. Your lips feel bruised as you quickly brush your teeth before stepping into the shower. 

The excited tremble of your hands makes holding the body wash a struggle. You still feel electric, your mind rushing from not one but two very intimate moments between you and Simon. If this is how you feel now, you can only imagine how you’ll feel after actually having sex.

You feel a bit sore as you get dressed, doing your best to hide the scattering of marks across your skin. You don’t really have to hide them. Everyone knows you fuck the members of the 141. The images that must flash through their minds when you walk around with them. Do they think you take all of them at once? On your knees as they stand around you, being a good omega for them like in some cheesy porn video? Or bent over, presented for them as they make a mess of your pussy, fucking each other’s cum into you until you can’t hold anymore and it seeps out, leaving you laying in a puddle of it?

Your pussy clenches at the thought, warmth starting to pool in your stomach again. 

“Down girl.” You say, talking to yourself as you slip on your shoes. “We’re not there,” You straighten back up, smoothing your hands over your shirt. “Yet.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the excited thrumming between your legs as you step out into the hallway. Simon is waiting for you, having changed clothes, or at least you think so. He’s in a black t-shirt and jeans still, his most common uniform when he’s not in training. 

“Come on, let’s go.” He says, motioning towards the door with his head. 

He didn’t change his shirt. 

The overwhelming scent of alpha and sex and you is wafting off of him. He might as well be wearing a bright neon sign declaring what you were up to this morning. Your omega purrs at the idea of him being coated in your scent, staking your claim over him. Maybe you shouldn’t have showered after all, wanting to wear a matching scent projecting his own claim over you. 

The mess is sparsely occupied this late in the morning, something you’re silently grateful for. Had you walked in during the peak breakfast time, you might have died on the spot. Most don’t pass a glance your way, only those you pass by directly giving you both a second look. 

Simon yanks your tray from your hands as you grab one, setting it down on the counter next to his. He begins spooning food onto it, adding the things you like. You stare at your tray wide-eyed as he fills it, your omega practically preening. 

He doesn’t even let you carry it to the table, setting it down next to his. You beam up at him as he stares down at you, unable to hide your smile. 

“What?” He asks, his eyes scanning your face. 

Your smile widens. “Thanks for making my tray.” 

He glances down at your full tray before looking back at you. “Sit down and start eating.” 

You can’t stop smiling as you sit on the bench, Simon going to get you something to drink. The activities this morning have left you hungry, hungry enough that the mess food looks appetizing. Simon returns quickly, setting a cup of tea down in front of you. 

“Tea?” You ask, staring at it.

“Yeah. ‘S good for you.” He says, starting in on his own breakfast. “Better than that sugary milk you call coffee.” 

“But you put sugar and milk in your tea.” You say, looking up at him. 

He turns to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoying?” 

“Yeah. All the time.” You say, taking a bite out of the sausage on your fork. 

“Little shit.” He murmurs under his breath, turning back to his own tray. 

You both eat in comfortable silence, no awkward or tentative energy between you like you had worried there would be after the events that transpired over the last few hours. There’s no dancing around each other anymore, the forced distance dispersed between you. It makes you happy, your omega satisfied as your pack now feels complete. 

You almost feel like skipping as Simon leads you back to the barracks. You slip your hand into his, swinging your arms back and forth. He doesn’t pull away or even complain at your actions, letting you have your moment. Who knew he was such a big softie underneath all that armor? 

Well, you sort of knew the whole time. He could have been mean. He could have been nasty towards you, forcing you into a corner made up of only you, John, and Kyle. He could have kept Johnny from you, drawing that line in the pack and keeping you on one side. He could have let you face the consequences of punching that alpha on your own. So many times he could have left you on your own, been rough with you, let things escalate until he was violent, let his anger win and use it against you as many alphas do. 

But he didn’t. 

Even in his early avoidance of you, he was never a bad alpha towards you. He might not have liked you at first, or approved of your presence, but he never took it out on you. He put up with you because he had to, until his hesitant tolerance grew into more. You had wiggled your way in without even knowing it, long before you started trying, long before you became determined to win his approval for your sake, as well as the rest of the pack’s. 

Look at you now, holding his hand after he made you orgasm an hour ago. You would have never thought you’d get to this place with him back then. You’ve surpassed the point you wanted to get to, but you’re certainly not going to complain. You’ve gotten what you wanted, and from the sounds of it, so has he. 

It’s been two days since Simon’s return, and he has yet to fuck you. The marks on your neck have begun to fade, and you wonder if he’s waiting until they’re gone so he can make new ones. He certainly hasn’t been ignoring you, no he’s been quite clingy. He sits close to you, holds your hand every chance he can. He’s been filling your trays at meals when he takes you to the mess, something John is content to let him do. 

Your omega is satisfied, still preening at the idea of him courting you. You certainly won’t complain, nor will you try to stop him. He could claim you too, if he wanted. He could have claimed you from the start and you would have let him. Back then it would have been because it was your duty to do what your pack wanted. Now it would be because you want him to. You want to be his, just as much as you’re John’s. 

You won’t tell him that, though. Not yet. You don’t want to push him, to seem like you’re trying to move too quickly. You don’t want to scare him off now after making so much progress. That can be a conversation for later, once the two of you have adjusted to this new development in your relationship. 

An excited shiver trails down your spine as you stand outside the door. It’s early, but the world outside is grey with the coming dawn. Your heart jumps as the door in front of you opens, Simon pausing as he exits his room. He blinks down at you as you grin up at him, obviously not expecting you to be up and ready before him. 

“Ready to go?” You say, bouncing excitedly on your toes. 

He rolls his eyes at you, pulling his door closed behind him. “You’re in far too good a mood for 4:30 in the morning.” 

“I’m excited.” You say, taking his arm as you walk down the hallway. 

“And far too happy.” He says as you step out into the cool morning air. 

“I am happy.” You say, leaning your head against his arm. “You make me happy.” 

He lets out a sigh, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at you. “Don’t make me regret this.” 

You pause outside the door to the gym, looking up at him. “You don’t, do you?” 

He stares down at you for a long moment, your heart beating in your ears. You don’t want to scare him off with your happiness, the glee you can’t control at the relief of finally being accepted by him, of finally feeling like your pack is complete. 

“No.” He says, opening the door for you. “Now get your ass inside.” 

Relief floods through you, a smile tugging at your lips as you step into the gym. It’s quiet inside, quieter than normal even for 4 AM. 

“Most of them are out running drills today.” Simon says as he leads you down the hallway to the training room. “Base will be quiet.” 

“Won’t catch me complaining.” You say as you step into the training room. 

Simon locks the door behind you, setting his things on the bench and kicking off his shoes. You stare at him shamelessly as you follow him onto the mat, unsure whether you should thank or curse the grey sweatpants hugging his ass. 

He turns to face you and you decide to curse them, warmth flooding through you. Your mind flashes back to the morning after his return, the feeling of his cock grinding against you, his teeth sinking into your skin, leaving marks all over you. 

Fuck this is going to be a long training session. 

You’re half distracted as he runs you through combinations, most of your punches missing, your kicks almost half-hearted as most of your energy is pulsing between your legs. You keep messing up, punching at the wrong time, the order getting messed up in your mind. Agreeing to train today was probably a bad idea, given the uncontrollable lust that’s been plaguing you. Being so close to Simon and his scent isn’t helping either. 

You mess up another combo, half distracted, half dazed as you throw a punch, missing the mitt entirely. Simon lets out a frustrated growl, moving before you can even think to block yourself as he drives his shoulder into the center of your chest. You fall flat on your back, the air leaving your lungs with a sharp gasp. 

You lay there, coughing and gasping as he comes to stand over you, staring down at you disappointedly. “You’re distracted.” 

“Yeah,” You cough out, trying to catch your breath. “You keep fucking with my head.” 

“Half of fighting an alpha is a mind game. They’re going to fuck with you, because it will work.” He says, lowering himself to his knees over you. 

“Yeah, but this is different.” You say, your breathing finally returning back to normal. 

Or it was. Your inhale catches in your throat as he leans over you, his hands settling on either side of your head. “How?” He asks, his voice rougher than it had been. 

You take a deep breath as you stare up at him, feeling very small in this position, but you know he’s doing it on purpose. “I don’t want you to fuck with my head,” You say, trying to gain the upper hand. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Your words stun him for a moment, and you take the opportunity to try and reverse your positions. You swing your fist towards his side, aiming for the spot below his ribs. He recovers faster than you thought he might, catching your hand before you can make contact. He pins it to the mat beside your head, pinning your other hand on the other side. You try to use your knees to hit him, but he settles his weight over you, effectively pinning you to the mat. 

The position is reminiscent of the morning after he returned, his body pressed into yours, clinging to you as you both chased your orgasms. It sends a shiver down your spine, your body shuddering under him. His grip around your wrists shifts, pulling your hands over your head. He holds them with one of his own hands, keeping them pinned to the mat. A thrill shoots through you as you stare up at him, his body shifting to the side. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He growls, lifting his mask up to his nose. “Want me to take you right here where anyone walking by could hear you screaming my name? Where they could stand at the door jerking themselves off like needy pups, hoping to get just a whiff of your scent?” 

You would let him. He could take you right now on this mat and you wouldn’t care. Heat is pulsing between your legs, slick soaking your underwear and quickly beginning to seep through to your leggings. 

“Yes!” You whine, clenching your thighs together, seeking out any kind of friction you can get. “Please!” 

His free hand grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks to force your mouth open. He leans over you, holding your gaze as he spits into your mouth. Your whine is cut off as two of his fingers follow, pressing against your tongue. They taste salty from the sweat on his hands, yet you don’t care, licking the sweat from his skin. The pulsing of your pussy is starting to get to be too much, your thighs rubbing together in a desperate attempt to ease the ache. 

You moan around his fingers, laving your tongue over them as he shifts his gaze to your legs, watching you squirm and writhe. You can hardly stand it, his scent getting thicker and thicker in the air as he begins to get aroused as well. You nip at his fingers, trying to get him to pull them from your mouth. 

“Please!” You gasp as soon as your mouth is free. “Fucking touch me, Simon!” 

It’s like he had been waiting for your permission as his hand slips between your clenched thighs, cupping you over your leggings. You press your hips into his hand, grinding against him in desperate need for release. 

“What, you want this?” He says, rubbing his hand along your clothed slit. 

“Yes!” You almost sob, squeezing your thighs around his hand. “Please, Simon! Please!”

You lift your head as he slides his hand up your pelvis until it’s resting right at the waistband of your leggings. His eyes are on your face as he slowly pushes his fingers under the fabric, trailing lower and lower until he reaches the top of your mound. Your breath hitches in anticipation, lips parted as your chest heaves with every breath. So close. You’re so close to finally being touched by him. So close to getting relief. 

Your head falls back against the mat, a loud moan slipping from your lips as he finally slides his fingers lower, the rough pads brushing over your clit. “Fuck...” You whine, letting your legs fall open as he begins to circle the sensitive bud. 

It’s more than you could have imagined, better than you would have ever thought, and all he’s done is rub a few circles over your clit. His touch is electric, lighting a fire in you again, sending shocks straight through your nervous system and into your brain. You push against the hand holding your wrists but he doesn’t relent, not letting you touch him like you so desperately want to. 

His fingers leave your clit, sliding lower until they’re pressed against your hole. You shift your hips against his hand, trying to get even some relief from the ache that’s been throbbing between your legs for two days. You’ve avoided even touching yourself, wanting to make sure you were still sensitive and ready for when Simon decided he was ready. You’re glad for that now as Simon presses two of his fingers into you, your walls clamping down around them tightly. 

“C’mon,” He groans in your ear, his tongue darting out to lick at the sweat dampening your face. “Relax for me.” 

You breathe deeply, trying to get yourself to relax as he pushes his fingers further into you. His fingers are so long and thick, his knuckles catching at your entrance. 

“This tight around my fingers, how are you gonna take my cock?” He groans, thrusting his fingers gently to try and open you up for him. 

“I can take it.” You pant, bucking your hips against his hand to take his fingers deeper into you. 

“Been a while since someone fucked you, huh?” He says, beginning to thrust his fingers in and out of you. 

“Weeks.” You whine, your pussy fluttering around his fingers in relief. “Not since before you left.” 

“Oh?” His brows raise in surprise. 

“Missed you too much.” You gasp as he speeds up the movements of his fingers. “Didn’t want to.” 

“You were hoping I’d fuck you when I got back, huh.” He says, curling his fingers inside you. “Give this poor neglected cunt some attention.” 

You let out a moan that’s almost a sob as he finds that spongy spot inside you, directing the movements of his fingers directly against it. Your hands close into fists, pushing against his but he doesn’t let you go, starting to nearly pound his fingers against that spot. 

It’s too much and not enough all at once, your body starting to shake almost violently as pressure builds in your stomach. You’re being loud but you don’t care, unable to hold anything back as pleasure ripples through you, nearly blacking out your vision. You writhe on the mat, legs shaking as your feet plant on the floor, lifting your hips up against his hand. 

“That’s it.” He groans, the wet squelch of his fingers obscene in the quiet training room. 

Your body writhes from the intensity of your pleasure, tears leaking from your eyes uncontrollably. You can’t tell if you’re moaning or sobbing or both as pleasure cuts like a knife through you, toes curling and uncurling in your shoes. It’s like you’ve lost all control, your body given over to the pleasure as his fingers are pushed out of you from the force of your orgasm, fluid soaking your underwear.

You’re shuddering and shaking under him as his fingers return to your clit, rubbing it harshly. It’s almost too much, your pussy contracting almost painfully. A second orgasm is forced out of you, your thighs clamping together, your leggings soaked with fluid between your thighs. 

Simon finally relents, pulling his fingers from your pants. They’re soaked, shiny and slick with your release. You’re gasping for air, body still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” Simon praises you, wiping his hand on his sweatpants as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It’s strange, the tenderness after what he had just done to your body. 

And that was only with his fingers. 

He eases you up to sit, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You’re not sure how you’re even supposed to stand on them, much less walk. There’s an uncomfortable wetness between your legs, your panties and leggings sticking to your skin. 

“Easy.” He says, supporting your body as you try to rise to your feet. 

There’s a small puddle where you were laying, the outline of your body in sweat on the mat and then more fluid beneath where your ass had been. Simon lifts you into his arms, carrying you over to the bench before sitting you down. He wipes down the mat, cleaning up the mess you left before he approaches you again. 

“What was that?” You ask, shifting uncomfortably in your wet underwear. 

Simon smirks, slipping his phone and keys as well as your phone into his pockets. “Made you squirt, love.” 

Your mouth falls open, your thighs subconsciously clenching together. “You-what?” You blink in surprise. “Didn’t know I could do that.” 

He chuckles, lifting you into his arms again. “Gotta know what you’re doing to make it happen.” 

Warmth floods your cheeks as the double meaning of his words aren’t lost on you. You’re glad for the cool air outside as he carries you back towards the barracks, your legs still trembling a bit from the intense orgasm he had just given you. You’re glad the base is mostly empty, the thought of others knowing what he had just done to you is almost too much. 

“What happened?” Johnny asks as soon as Simon enters the door of the barracks, his eyes flickering back and forth between you. “Didnae hurt her, did ye?” He asks, getting defensive. 

“Quite the opposite.” Simon says, walking past him towards your door. “Taught her a little party trick.” 

Johnny’s nostrils flare as your scent finally hits him, his eyes going wide. “Fucking christ, Simon.” 

He starts towards your door as Simon sets you on your feet, but the alpha pushes him back, keeping him from entering your room. “Easy, mutt. She’s had enough this morning. Let’s get some food and liquids into her first.” 

Your pussy clenches in anticipation at his words and you quickly close the door before you, or they, change their minds. 

You’re not quite sure what to do as you stand in front of the open door, peering into a space you’ve never been in before. It almost feels wrong to take the step, to enter into sacred ground you’ve been kept out of until now. The space is plain and laid out not entirely unlike your own. There’s books lining the back of the desk, a box with what looks like records sitting on the floor next to it, and what looks like a painting hanging on the wall. The wardrobe is exactly where yours is, and you can assume there’s a dresser behind the door. 

“You going to come in or do I have to drag you?” 

You startle at the voice, lifting your gaze to Simon’s. He’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at you as you hesitate in the doorway. You swallow the lump in your throat, taking a step into the room, and then another. 

All feelings of plainness go out the window as you step further in. His bed is the same as yours, sheets blue instead of black like you might have assumed. There’s a nightstand next to the bed with a lamp and his phone, but that’s not what’s surprising to you. 

Across the wall behind his bed is a black and white mural of skulls stretching wall to wall, ceiling to floor. You stare at it in awe, taking in all the details, the shading, the realism. 

“Johnny did it for me.” Simon says, stepping up next to you. “Not long after I claimed him.” 

“It’s incredible.” You say. “Very fitting.” 

“Might need to commission him for another piece, one of the ones he’s done of you.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, very aware of Johnny’s stash of drawings of you from pictures he’s snapped while you weren’t looking, and some while you were. You’d flipped through his sketchbook, just happening upon a rather detailed drawing of your tits when he’d grabbed it and quickly shoved it on top of his wardrobe. 

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what filled the rest of the pages in that book. 

“I’m sure he’d be happy to do one for you.” You say, turning to face him. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I could be convinced to do a custom reference for him.” 

His eyes darken as he stares at you, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare up at him, refusing to look away despite the strong musky scent rolling off of him. You stand your ground, pushing back against his attempts to make you yield, to make you submit. 

A shiver runs down your spine as he takes a step closer, and then another. You can feel the warmth of his body as he looms over you, his hand lifting to settle on your waist. His thumb brushes your side through your shirt, the heat of his palm radiating through the fabric. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He asks, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. 

“Yes, sir.” You respond. 

His hand tightens around your waist, his scent intensifying at your words. “Fuck,” He hisses, the front of his pants suddenly getting tighter. “Brazen little shit.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. “You love it.” 

“Mmm, you seem so sure of that.” He says, tugging the bottom of his mask up. 

“Because I am.” You say, lifting yourself up onto your toes. 

He bends down, meeting you halfway. Your lips clash in a fiery kiss, your hands lifting to grip his shoulders. His own slide down your sides to grip your thighs, lifting you into his arms. He walks backwards, kicking his door closed before pressing you up against it. 

You moan as your back hits the door, Simon’s tongue sliding into your mouth as soon as your lips part. The kiss is messy and rough, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pins you against his door. It’s finally happening, what you’ve been waiting for. Two long days you’ve been waiting and wishing for this moment. Simon’s bruising grip on your thighs, and the low rumbling growl echoing in his chest speak volumes of his own desire. 

His grip tightens on you, almost becoming painful as his teeth sink into your lip. You let out a surprised yelp as he breaks the skin, the coppery tang of blood filling your mouth. 

You nearly hit the floor as Simon wrenches himself away from you, stumbling back a couple of steps. He wipes the blood from his lip and you quickly purse your own lips to try and hide the blood. He turns his back to you, his shoulders tensed and slightly hunched. 

“Simon?” You take half a step forward, but he lifts his hand, making you pause. 

You stay where you are, staring at his back. You don’t want this to ruin things, to push him away from you. A little blood hasn’t stopped you so far, nor has a little pain. You can tell he’s nervous, though, on edge, and you know exactly why. 

“Simon?” You say quietly, approaching him slowly. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, repeating the words he’s said over and over the last few weeks. It’s almost like a mantra now, and you can imagine it echoing over and over in his head. He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder as you reach him. 

“You won’t.” You say, putting your hands on his back, turning him slowly. “You haven’t so far. His eyes flicker between the healing marks on your neck, and your bleeding lip. “I trust you, Simon.” 

“You shouldn’t.” He says, his hands closing into fists. 

“Don’t be stupid.” You say, rolling your eyes. “We both want this. Denying it isn’t going to make anything better. I trust your ability to control yourself, and you have to trust that I’ll tell you if you go too far.” 

“What if I can’t stop?” 

“Johnny’s next door, and John is across the hall.” You say simply. “If nothing else, I’ll scream. They’ll know the difference.” You take his face in your hands, pulling him down slightly so you can look him in the eyes easier. “Let me be in control if you’re so worried.” 

A rumble vibrates deep in his chest at your words, his eyes flashing. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks, ghosting over his five-o’clock shadow. 

“The mask can stay on, hell all of your clothes can stay on.” You shrug. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” 

He stares down into your eyes for a moment before leaning forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. It’s softer this time, less heated and animalistic than before. 

Simon releases you, taking a step back. He unbuttons his pants, letting them drop to the floor, leaving him in just his briefs. He picks them up, folding them like he did two nights ago, draping them over the back of his desk chair. He hesitates for a moment so you take the lead, pulling your shirt up over your head. You drop your shorts as well, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. 

Simon’s eyes scan your body and you fight the urge to cover yourself under his intense gaze. He steps forward, his fingers reaching for you. They’re surprisingly soft as they trail up your arm, goosebumps forming on your skin. His eyes follow the path of his fingers before they reach the strap of your bra. He slips his fingers underneath, pulling it up before he releases it, letting it snap against your skin. 

“Take it off.” He says, a subtle growl underneath his voice. 

It sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps forming all over your skin. “Thought I was in charge, Mr. Big Alpha Man.” 

“Little shit.” He breathes, letting out a long sigh. 

You reach behind you anyway, undoing your bra and letting it fall to the floor. 

“Christ.” He breathes, his eyes glued right on your tits. 

“Understanding all the hype now?” You smirk. “You can touch them if you’d like.” 

He curses under his breath but lifts his hands anyway, cupping your breasts. You bite your lip as he squeezes them gently, his eyes glued to your chest. 

“Didn’t take you for a tits guy.” You say, biting back a moan as his thumb brushes over your nipple. 

“I'm just full of surprises.” He says, earning a surprised yelp as he tugs harshly on your nipple. 

He leans down, dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin to soothe it. You let out a soft moan at the sensation, your hands lifting to grip his biceps. 

“Fuck,” He groans against your skin, straightening back up. “On the bed.” He says, motioning with his head. 

“Thought I was in charge.” You sass. 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you.” He retorts. 

You open your mouth to argue but you can't. You know he's right, so instead you make your way to the bed, crawling onto the mattress, making sure he can see the damp spot on your underwear as you do. 

You pause when you hear crinkling, running your hand over the sheet. “A heat liner?” 

“Gotta protect the mattress.” He shrugs, approaching the bed. 

Your eyes widen as your face warms, the implications not lost on you. You think back to earlier in the gym, your face only warming even more. “Oh.”

He grips the back of your knees, tugging you to the edge of the bed, pushing your knees up. You're spread open in front of him, the damp spot on your panties only getting bigger as he stares down at the only barrier left between you. 

“You could take a picture.” You say as he stands there, frozen. “Something to remember me by.”

“Little shit.” He says under his breath, his hands sliding up your inner thighs until they reach your hips. 

His fingers curl under the waistband of the lacy black fabric, slowly dragging them down over your ass and then down your legs. He tosses the fabric behind him before parting your legs again. He's shamelessly staring at your glistening pussy, bare and spread open for him. 

A moment passes as he stands there frozen, and for a second you wonder if he's ever seen a pussy before, much less a naked woman. Obviously he has, based on what happened earlier. He’s experienced, and you try not to let the thought bother you, jealousy rising at the thought of his hands on another woman. Did she get to see his face? How vulnerable was he with her. 

You bring your attention back to Simon as he stands there frozen. “You okay?” You ask, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. 

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy. 

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at his mask-covered face. “Why don't you show me what you did in the gym earlier.” You suggest, finally getting him to react.

His eyes flash up to your face, his grip on your legs loosening. He stares at you for a second before letting them go completely. “Wait here.” He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before he comes out carrying a towel. 

He lays it on the floor beside the bed, looking between you and the towel for a moment before nodding in approval. You watch him as he grabs a pillow, slipping it behind you to prop you up before sinking onto the mattress next to you. He pulls one of your legs over his lap, and you hook an arm around the other one, getting the idea. 

Your eyes are glued to his hand as he drags it across your stomach, letting his blunt nails scrape across your skin. You shiver in response, goosebumps covering your skin again. His hand slips through your folds, gathering some of your slick on his fingers before he returns to your clit, circling it like he had earlier. You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the pillow as he teases the sensitive bud. 

Simon leans closer to you, pressing gentle kisses to your jaw. “Fucking beautiful omega.” He praises you, his teeth scraping your skin gently. “Been working me up for weeks, laying in here listening to you fuck the others, those sweet little sounds coming from you.” He groans into your skin, his fingers applying more pressure to your clit. “Had me in here wanking like some needy teenager, imagining it was me making you scream like that, like it was your hand on my cock.” 

His words make you shiver. You know he’s heard you, it was impossible not to, but you had always pictured him with ear plugs in or headphones on, trying to drown out the noise. Or maybe he always chose those moments to shower, trying to drown you out with the water. 

You hadn't considered that he'd be in here masturbating to the sound of you being fucked by the others. You certainly wouldn’t have guessed it was you he was jerking off to. You would have assumed his focus was on the others and the sounds of their pleasure. Your pussy clenches at the mental image of him in bed, fisting his cock, trying not to cum until you do. He knows what you sound like when you cum, he'd have figured that out quickly. He'd use that knowledge, edging himself until you came so he could cum with you. 

“Fuck...” You moan, slick dribbling out of you at the thoughts flashing through your mind. 

“Nearly blacked out when you let Johnny fuck you from behind the first time.” He groans, circling your clit faster. “Imagining you bent over his bed, split open around his cock,” He shakes his head. “Wanted to be in there, bend him over you and fuck him into you, get both of you desperate and needy, begging me for release.”

Your head tilts back, your legs shaking as his words nearly send you over the edge. The mental images are almost too much, the possibilities now that you've opened this door. 

You whine as his hand leaves your clit, his fingers closing around your jaw and pulling your head back up. “Keep your head up.” He says. “Want you to watch.”

You whimper as he returns to your pussy, dragging his fingers down your slit before pressing two into your slick hole. They slide in easier than they did this morning, your body opening to him in anticipation. He thrusts his fingers slowly, teasing you as he continues to work you up. 

“Wanna fuck you so full of cum you're almost bursting then let Kyle eat it out of you. Might let him fuck you after just to see the two prettiest members of the pack together.” He continues. 

You squeeze around his fingers, a loud moan leaving your lips. You could cum from his words alone and the mental images flashing through your mind. All the possibilities, all the opportunities that are now in front of you. 

He curls his fingers, finding that spongy spot again. You know what's coming, the anticipation building in your stomach as he begins to thrust his fingers against that spot. 

“Want Price to bend you over my desk, watch as he fucks you until you're a crying mess, and then it will be my turn.” He growls, pounding his fingers against that spot. “Make you forget your name, forget how to do anything but whine in pleasure.

You desperately keep your eyes on his hand as that overwhelming pressure begins in your stomach again, your moans getting sharper and sharper the more it builds. Your hips jerk uncontrollably as you nearly black out again, fluid squirting from you and into the air. Simon's fingers are forced out of you from the intensity of the orgasm, but he's not done as he begins frantically rubbing at your clit. Another orgasm is forced out of you from the hypersensitivity as you squirt again, soaking your pussy and the side of the bed. 

You let your head fall back as you gasp for air, your body shuddering uncontrollably in the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm. Simon leans down, kissing you like he wants to devour you as he slips his fingers back inside your spasming pussy. It’s almost painful, the sensations too much as he stretches you open again. 

“One more.” He groans against your lips as he starts bullying that spot inside you with his fingers again. “Give me one more.”

“Simon,” you grip the front of his shirt, the feeling almost too much as it builds faster this time. “Simon!” You let out a high pitched shriek, squirting again all over his hand and the floor. 

“That's it.” He groans, finally relenting as his wet hand comes to rest on your clenching stomach. 

Tears blur your vision as you lay there shaking, nearly having an out of body experience from the pleasure. It's painful, but not in a bad way. 

His hand slides up your body until he's gripping your jaw, turning your face to his. He kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue past your lips as he holds you there, your release dripping from your pussy onto the sheets. His kiss is all tongue and teeth, bordering on the animalistic violence that had almost taken over you both two days ago. It had thrilled and terrified you, how easily both of you got lost in the moment. 

You hadn't even been naked then. 

You don't ponder on it long as he pulls away from you delivering a slap to your pussy before he stands, watching the way you jerk from the sharp sting on the sensitive skin. You nearly cum from it, pussy clenching from how sensitive you are. 

He reaches into the top drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a bottle. He moves to stand between your legs again, letting them fall to the sides for a moment. You're limp as you stare up at him, not sure you could move your body at all if you had to. You're beginning to understand why he was so worried.

He palms at the very prominent bulge in his briefs, an excited thrill running through you as he slips his hands under the waistband, slowly sliding it lower and lower. You lick your lips as more skin is revealed to you, a trail of light hair leading to the thick shaft of his cock. It keeps going and going as he lowers his briefs, thick and long and an angry red color as the fabric finally drops out of sight. 

“Fuck...” You breathe as you stare at it, looking big even in his large hand. 

He moves closer, lifting your legs from where they're hanging over the side of the bed, pushing them up as close to your chest as they can get, essentially folding you in half. His cock drags through your folds, the head catching on your clit. It makes you twitch with every pass of his hips, your lips parting in anticipation. You could cum like this, your pussy still oversensitive from your three orgasms already. Four, if you count the one in the gym earlier. 

“You said you could take it.” He teases, his hands keeping your legs pressed back. 

You nod. “Uh huh.”

“Having second thoughts?” He smirks. 

You're not sure if it's your ego or your pride or just sheer determination that has you shaking your head. “Nope.” 

His smirk widens as he reaches for the bottle, popping the cap before squirting some lube on his cock and onto your hole. He tosses the bottle back onto the bed before rubbing the lube on his cock, dragging the head through your slick folds, spreading the cold lube against the heated skin. “Good girl.”

You shiver from the praise, your breath catching in your throat as he begins to press into you. The burning stretch is almost too much for your oversensitive walls despite the preparation he had given you. His fingers were nothing compared to his cock, and for a moment you regret not fucking one of the others in the two weeks he was gone. 

Your breaths are coming in high pitched gasps, broken by moans as he sinks into you, your legs shaking and he hasn't even fucked you yet. You could cum just like this, just from the stretch. You can feel all of him, every inch of his length, every inch of his circumference as your pussy gapes around him. 

“Wait,” You grip his wrists, his movements pausing. “Fuck, gimme a second.” 

His eyes are on you as you lay there, trying to relax around him, fighting desperately not to cum like this. He might as well be in your guts, and you're beginning to think you had been right in asking him to rearrange them for you. You lift your head, staring down between your legs. A low groan of astonishment leaves your lips. He's only halfway in. 

You let out a keening moan before you nod. “Okay, okay. Keep going.” 

If his cock is this big, you can't even imagine taking his knot. 

He sinks even deeper, moving slowly as he watches your face. Your eyes are on the ceiling, the stretch seeming almost endless as it keeps going and going. 

Finally he's seated inside you, practically snuggled up against your cervix, or at least that's what it feels like. You could cum just like this, laying here with your knees by your ears, stuffed full of Simon's cock. He wouldn’t even have to move, just stand there as you flutter around him, soaking his cock with your release. 

“Fucking hell.” He groans as you squeeze around him, his eyes closing as he takes a deep breath in. 

“Can't help it,” You moan, squeezing around him again. “So big.” 

He lets out a low groan, his hips twitching. “Tell me I can move. Let me fuck you.”

You're half tempted to stay silent, to lay here and see how long he lasts, how long he'll let you hold control before he takes over. A battle of wills, just as everything seems to become between you. Alpha versus omega, instinct versus instinct, willpower versus willpower. Just like every battle, though, you find yourself bowing, giving in, unable to fight the power he holds over you. It’s for a different reason this time, though, your desperation and neediness is just as strong as his. You’ve both been waiting for this, neglecting yourselves for far too long. 

“Fuck me, Simon.” You breathe, fingers gripping the sheets for dear life. “Fuck me till I can't remember anything but your name.” 

He lets out a low growl as he pulls back, drawing his cock out halfway before snapping his hips forward until they slap against yours. You yelp as your body rocks from the force of his thrust, not expecting it. He pulls his hips back slowly again before he repeats the motion, practically slamming into you. It hurts, stealing your breath away, but it leaves you feeling almost electric, pleasure bubbling under your skin.  

Slowly his thrusts get shorter, but they lose none of their force as he fucks into you roughly. You're creating quite the cacophony of sounds from skin slapping skin and the obscene squelch of your pussy to your high pitched keening moans and his deep growls. His eyes are glued to your face, watching the pleasure glaze over your eyes as you stare at the bulge in your stomach from his cock. 

He moves the pillow out from behind you, pushing you flat on your back as he folds his body over yours. He releases your legs, letting them drape over his shoulders as he continues to pound into you. There's a wild look in his eyes, your omega beginning to stir as your brain registers the shifting scents, the heavy musk in the room. 

Sweat has slicked your skin and Simon's, mixing where your skin is pressed together. He turns his head, licking the skin of your thigh, tasting the salty sweat. Your mouth feels dry as you stare up at him, wanting to sink your teeth into him and chew on him. You want to make him bleed, have him howling in pain as he stuffs you so full you'll be leaking for a week. 

You grip his forearms, your nails digging into his skin, making him hiss out a curse. A wild look flashes behind his eyes as he sinks his teeth into your thigh, clamping down as you continue to dig your nails into his arms, neither of you relenting. He shifts his hips just slightly, hitting a different angle that has you releasing his arms as pleasure wracks through you. He releases your thigh with a satisfied grin, fucking into at the new angle like a wild animal. 

Your body shudders, your moans muffling as he presses two of his fingers into your mouth again, pushing on your tongue. You choke around them, fighting every urge to sink your teeth into his skin until he releases you or you taste blood. 

“That’s it.” He grunts as you whimper desperately around his fingers. “You can take it.” 

Drool seeps out from around his fingers as he fucks you until you’re almost cross-eyed, your pussy spasming around him as every thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

You can’t stop it as you sink your teeth into his fingers, your legs squeezing together as your body seizes, your release gushing around his cock as you cum. Your eyes roll back, blood on your tongue as he wrenches his fingers from your mouth. Your head tilts back, back arching as he doesn’t stop, undeterred by your orgasm. 

“Fucking hell.” He grunts, the clenching of your pussy almost painful as he continues to fuck you. “Fucking tight around me.” 

“Please, please, Simon!” You whine, the only two words you can pull from your brain, and even they begin to mesh together into mindless babble as you grip his sheets, nearly pulling them off the edges of the mattress. 

Tears leak from your eyes as he fucks into you so hard the frame shakes, knocking into the wall. He leans his head down, his teeth sinking into the skin over your collarbone until you bleed. Droplets of blood mix with the sweat dripping down your chest, Simon’s eyes following them as they disappear between your breasts. 

“Gonna cum for me again?” He growls, blood staining his lips red. He looks like a ghoul, wild eyed and bloody mouthed, feasting on your flesh. An incubus sucking the life out of you as he brings you endless pleasure. 

“Simon!” You squeal, eyes squeezing closed as you’re thrown into another orgasm, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you clench around him, almost as if your body is trying to suck his cock in deeper. 

He continues to fuck you, every curse word known to man spilling from his lips as you tighten around him, dragging his own orgasm from him. He slams his hips into yours, letting out a feral growl as he spills into you. Warmth fills your belly as he spurts his hot cum into you, filling you up. Your legs are shaking where they’re tossed over his shoulders, clenching around his neck. His skin is flushed red from the bottom of his mask to the collar of his shirt. 

You can’t move as you lay there, shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm. You want to take a break, tap out, ask for five minutes and a glass of water, but from the look in Simon’s eyes you know it’s not over yet. There’s no taking a break, not that he’s gotten a taste of your pussy. 

He releases your legs, letting them drop off the side of the bed. He pulls away long enough to flip you over, bending you over the side of the bed. You whine as he presses his cock back into you, ignoring the squeeze of your sensitive walls as he splits you open around him again. He bends over you, pressing his chest to your back as his hips press flush to your ass. 

“Simon.” You whine, your hands gripping the sheets as his hand snakes around you, wrapping around your throat.

He growls low and dangerous, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. You squeeze around him, a chill running through you, your instincts telling you to run or roll over in submission to him. Your omega claws at your mind, desperate to meet him toe to toe, one for one. You begin to push your hips back into him, fucking yourself on his cock as his teeth sink into the skin on the back of your shoulder. The tables have turned, the control has shifted. 

He’s not Simon anymore. 

Your lips part in a gasp as he thrusts into you, meeting your own movements on his cock, reminding you who’s in charge, who holds the reigns in this position. The word comes tumbling from your lips, brainlessly and unconsciously, no thoughts there to stop it, your hands too busy clinging to the sheets for dear life to even prevent it from slipping out. 

“Alpha!” 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @protokosmonaut

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites

@kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos

@konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13

@anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry

@red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving

@slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

@sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164

@mirzamsaiph @xlxnq @chickennn-soupp

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Two

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Still establishing some more lore and feelings. Currently, the Batfamily has two yanderes. With more yandere’s being revealed outside of Gotham and some in Gotham about to start falling into obsession. Also, my favorite Reader is one who is manipulated into thinking the collar around their neck is a necklace. Will be working on Part Three, but it might take longer because we have obsessions starting and Reader starting to get to a breaking point.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Poor Reader has it rough. Not too rough, but still life kinda sucks and they wanna go home now, please and thank you.

But, as always, things start to brighten up a notch or two.

Reader is thriving at school, sure they can’t hang out with their friends, but their friends understand (which honestly kinda odd, but they’ll roll with it)

There is a small issue.

Reader is a metahuman. (I know, shocking. So unique.)

Reader controls the weather, at will or with extreme emotions (oooooo interesting)

Back in their hometown, Reader didn’t have to hide said abilities that much. (Hell, more than a few people knew about it. Such an understanding community.)

Here in Gotham, in a practical stranger’s house, they’re not gonna to that.

Which is fine. Fine fine fine

Okay, so Reader is tense. Doesn’t have a healthy outlet, and is bottling things up. So that storms brewing. Gonna be fun when that comes back to bite Reader in the ass.

But, things are looking up. (I swear this time!)

Duke and Cass are hanging out with Reader more. They’re sorta becoming a trio of amigos.

Though, they do disappear often. For long periods of time.

Reader is pretty sure Bruce is Batman, at this point.

They’re not stupid, it’s in their damn genetics to be somewhat intelligent, so to speak.

But, no one actually tells reader. It’s lead to some awkward situations of them going silent when Reader enters the room, or the manor being unusually empty after everyone went to the ‘library’.

(Smalltown doesn’t mean stupid, bunch of jerks.)

It just makes reader feel even less like they’re part of the family. Even Alfred disappears for a time, leaving Reader completely alone with nothing, but portraits and old wood furniture.

No one says anything. No one mentions a single thing. (Am I not worthy of the secret? Why did you drag me here only to ignore me?)

Bruce continue to bounce between ignoring and coddling. Yet gets upset if Reader does the same. (Making them anxious.)

Dick pops back in, immediately showering Reader and excessive amounts of affection before shooing them off cause he’s gotta take care of somethings. (It makes reader feel like a pet in a degrading way.)

Jason gets caught harassing Reader by Alfred. Which leads to a screaming match between Jason and Bruce. It’s a violent one, but Alfred drags Reader out of the room before they can see. (But they hear things breaking and It’s terrifying.)

After that, Reader is extremely cautious around Jason. Which for some reason makes him angry and more violent. (Why does he hate me? This is scary.)

Stephanie starts to come around. Slowly. They’re getting there. (Stephanie still prefers to hangout with Tim and Tim…)

Tim ignores Reader the most. Will not talk to Reader at all. Which sucks because Teader thinks they would total get along. (But, nope. All they get is the cold shoulder.)

Reader just avoids Damian like the plague.

Reader talks more often to her other half-brother living miles away than the one she’s currently living with. (That’s gonna piss Damian off later)

While Barbara remains cordial.

Life is moving on. We’re good. Everything’s good.

Wait? Gotham Academy is having its own student Gala? That sounds amazing! Getting dolled up, having a night with friends. Maybe…. Having a date escort them….

And the best part is, Bruce says Reader can go.

Now, Cass and Duke and Damian won’t be going. Which is a bummer, but Reader understands.

Bruce even buys reader something to wear.

An obnoxious designer outfit. (A couture ruffle monstrosity that’s all the rage on the runway.)

It’s so terrible you have to laugh. (Just to hide how upsetting it is that no one actually knows what you like here or bothers to ask.)

Reader even shows Stephanie and they share a laugh. (It’s great. Reader needed that laugh.)

But, there’s no way Reader is going to wear this. So, Reader calls their childhood friend and favorite fashion designer.

Commissioning a more mature outfit. (Reader is almost grown, time to take a break from the ruffles and embrace the sexy.)

BFF comes through and then a week later someone shows up at Wayne Manor. (Damn that was fast.)

Someone from Reader’s hometown, and this starts to set things in motion.

BFF’s older brother, Reader’s childhood crush, shows up holding a dress and driving Daddy’s old truck. Which he hands Reader the keys too.

Nana and Grand Daddy, the Step Grandparents, wanted to surprise reader with a gift from home. (Remind Reader how much better living in a smalltown is compared to somewhere like Gotham. How much their town adores them and misses them.)

Poor oblivious Reader. Not realizing their smalltown is so desperate to have them back. (Reader was their’s first, they know Reader best.)

Nor how desperate Gotham is going to be to make force reader to stay.

[narcjsistx]

hii! hope you’re doing alright :))

can you do headcanons on chika takiishi(wbk)? like what would it be like dating him?

at the moment chika is not one of my favourites, but I'm pretty sure it will become in the next chapters... WHAT ABOUT HIS DESING? IT'S LITERALLY GORGEOUS HELP

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

— Chika Takiishi in a relationship HCS ᡣ𐭩

We all know that Chika's character isn't exactly the most outgoing, so in a relationship he certainly won't be the talkative guy that many hope for. Will it open a little more? Yes probably, but nothing excessive

The trope I see closest to a relationship with him is the "sunshine x sunshine protector". You would literally be one of the safest people in the city if not the safest. He's there to protect you, but let's remember that Endo practically protects what his muse loves... so yes, you would practically have two bodyguards. Not that Chika particularly likes leaving you with Endo, but if he has to, he's the only one he wouldn't have too much trouble with

He would take you wherever he goes too, he's not particularly happy about leaving you at home for the simple reason that they might attack you directly when he's not there. Sure, seeing your boyfriend get into extremely violent fights with several people isn't exactly the best scenario, but as long as Endo makes you think of something else... it's okay

The others, including Yamato, don't dare say anything remotely insulting towards Chika. Is it out of fear? Absolutely yes. But you have a sort of pass, you are in a certain way free to tell him whatever you want... with a certain limit however

He is often seen wearing a lot of costume jewelry: like rings, earrings and necklaces. I have this little scenario in mind that, before he goes out, he steals some from your collection and puts them to have you with him somehow. He'll never admit it directly, but it's a very personal way for him to always have you with him even when you just can't come

He will never directly ask you for a hug, but if you ask him, he won't let go until he's satisfied. It could take a few minutes or even an hour, it depends on the mood

Your dates are mostly at your house or his, he's not a big fan of outdoor ones for the simple reason that he hates people staring at him. Despite having a small space, things can vary from a night playing video games, to a night watching a movie, or doing… yk. Although his favorite remains when you color his hair, he loves to see you concentrate while you paint the yellow on the ends of his hair

The bad thing about dating Chika is that even when dead he won't apologize, even if it's entirely his fault. You will have to be the one to do it, and if you don't do it either, it will take the way of: I pretend nothing happened and gradually everything goes back to normal, and maybe I give her some more attention. It works, so why change?

I see him as someone who loves kisses on the jaw. While he loves the ones on his lips or neck, his jaw is one place he doesn't know how to react to without maintaining his usual commanding look. He might even hug you if you do, but I would keep my expectations low

Chika is canonically 1.83cm tall, and I can see him a lot with a partner who is much shorter than him, like 1.50cm or a little more. Just for size reasons, his clothes would probably be a little loose on you, and even if he doesn't show it, he likes to see you in his fur coats or t-shirts when you wear them

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

Stephanie Brown ACTUALLY having the character arc that fanon pretends Jason Todd had (plus a defence of canon Jason)

What I'm really saying is that Stephanie Brown is underappreciated, Jason Todd is often misinterpreted, and, though it should go without saying, ignoring canon is poor media literacy. So let's actually analyse canon and get to the bottom of what the stories are trying to say and how they use their characters to tell this, as opposed to just which character should we stan.

I'm arguing that Stephanie Brown's story actually features a redemption arc that sees her transform from a violent, almost murderous teenager into the most unwaveringly hopeful of heroes and that Jason's story is about a villain who we're meant to empathise with to expose the cracks in the Batman's heroic facade; a Frankenstein's monster if you will. Here's a numbered list:

Part 1: Outgrowing Violence, Anger and Murder

A big part of Stephanie Brown's growth in canon is her learning not to kill or use excessive force. But it's not as simple as just killing is wrong, don't question it.

Let's begin with the narrative's relationship to violence, anger and murder. Why doesn't Batman kill? Because "[those] who [fight] with monsters might take care lest [they] thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you". If he kills, he's playing god, choosing who gets to live and die. No one deserves that kind of absolute power and absolute power also corrupts. Batman doesn't want to lose sight of himself or his cause. Deliberate murder is treated VERY negatively in the Batman mythos.

Enter Stephanie Brown.

Stephanie was a working class latchkey kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. She had an abusive, criminal father, who was in and out of jail, and a mother struggling with addiction, who Steph became a carer for at just 15. Steph also became pregnant with the child of her horrible ex. At 16, she gave birth to that child and had to give her up for adoption. Steph is also a survivor.

The world was never kind to Steph and left this teenager with a hell of a lot of bitterness and rage which her vigilante career became an outlet for. You can tell by the way she fights since Steph fights DIRTY; she'll tug hair and spit in your eyes and strike below the belt and catch a kick to twist your ankle and dislodge your already broken nose. On the one hand; the narrative tells us Steph is resourceful. She's 5'5", 130 lb and has zero powers, but can always find an opening even when going up against Gotham's grizzliest. It's telling that quick thinking, savviness and spontaneity become her thing when she becomes Batgirl; Steph is the wild card. On the other hand, she was a real diamond in the rough and a complete loose canon. In her first arc, it's Batman who stops her from making the biggest mistake of her life; killing her dad. To deliberately kill; to play god, is to lose yourself, remember. Her first arc is about not being defined by who your parents are and about not giving up on yourself. Batman basically tells her, there's hope for you yet Stephanie Brown, by getting her to spare her dad. And she does. And so began her superhero career.

Nonetheless, it's never that simple. Steph is still a bitter, angry teenager, no matter how many jokes she cracks. It becomes a personal crusade when she, now Robin, discovers that The Penguin is using children as runners. It takes Cassandra Cain to stop her from inflicting anything she may regret.

The narrative wants to show us how cruel the world can be and that it isn't black and white, either. The story ends with an angry Stephanie lamenting "why". It's a "why" she is asking herself too. Why does she do what she does? And it informs us that she, and maybe us the reader too, still have a lot to learn. Murder's not the answer but what is?

Stephanie later saves Bruce by almost murdering serial killer Victor Zsasz. Bruce reprimands her and she cries, quite honestly, "I don't get it, I really don't", following on from where we left off in Batgirl. "There are always other options than to kill" asserts Bruce, forget not being on the same page, they're reading different books. The thesis of the story is what Bruce should have told Steph when she was an angry 15 year old about to murder her dad; "[those] who [fight] with monsters might take care lest [they] thereby become a monster". The world's cruel, Steph, but that doesn't mean you have to be too. "Are you firing me?" "No, I'm teaching you".

Over 2 years down the line, an around 19 year old Stephanie, establishing herself as the new, hoping-inspiring Batgirl, is now teaching a brash Damian Wayne what she's learned.

"To murder or not to murder" is just a plot device to the themes of overcoming your own anger at the world's cruelty to contribute good, coming to terms with shades of grey, not giving up on yourself and staying hopeful in the face of adversity and horror. These are Stephanie's arcs and as a consequence, she goes from would-be-murderer to Gotham's cheeriest caped crusader.

Part 2: Double Standards and Second Chances

Another huge part of Stephanie's story is her overcoming double standards and doubters, to earn her own second chances. Her resurrection and rise to the role of Batgirl were choices made to hammer home this theme; it's never too late to turn things around.

There's some juicy metatext to analyse here too. DC editorial's treatment of Stephanie during War Games was horrific and panned by both fans and writers. To reperate for these harms, Steph was retconned back to life and then made Batgirl during Batman: Reborn. Here's a quote by Batgirl (2009) author Bryan Q. Miller on what his run aimed to bring out of Steph:

The whole point of Stephanie's resurrection and take over of the Batgirl title was to give her a redemption arc.

In text, Stephanie was unfairly treated too, notwithstanding that she was brash and had a massive violent streak in her Spoiler and Robin days. Tim Drake constantly condescends her and tells her to give up vigilante life, even though she was ALWAYS a match for Tim according to Convergence: Batgirl. Cassandra Cain constantly underestimates Steph. Bruce Wayne tells his allies to cut off ties with Steph and then later fires her as Robin for DISOBEYING HIM as if that's not the first thing Dick Grayson ever did as Robin. Barbara Gordon tells Steph she has a death wish. Dick deems Steph too reckless (moments before he resurrects a zombie Batman). And Damian is an entitled brat who gives her a hard time for no reason. Everyone doubts Stephanie and it generally says more about the doubter than it does Stephanie.

Stephanie was never great with authority or criticism so she still went out there and earned her second chance. And it felt rewarding when her doubters came around too.

Stephanie was brought back from the dead to be redeemed and man did she take that chance!

Part 3: What is Jason Todd's Story Meant to Tell Us and My Defence of Canon Jason

Jason Todd returns from the dead as a ghost of Batman's past; he is the living embodiment of Batman's greatest mistake who couldn't stay buried and is back to haunt him. He's a character we are meant to empathise with but he's a villain nonetheless. He's not irredeemable but for the most part his story is not really about redemption. Succinctly, it revolves around the idea that "we are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell” to quote Oscar Wilde.

When we first meet the resurrected Jason, he's a cold-blooded murderer who's slinging guns and using The Joker's old moniker. These choices are made to emphasise that he went down the wrong path; he's breaking Batman's "don't play god" rule and his actions become eerily closer to those of the Clown Prince of Crime than Batman's. In fact Nightwing and Batman spend some quality time together in the next two issues because Nightwing is the foil to the Red Hood; he's what Bruce considers his greatest success. Remember that thing about "those who [fight] with monsters might take care lest [they] thereby become a monster"? Well Jason DID become a monster. And if he's the monster, then Bruce Wayne is Frankenstein.

We're not supposed to think "yes, kill the The Joker, Jason", we're supposed to think "good god, please Jason, it's not too late to turn your life around". Here's Dick and Jason being the exact opposite of each other, an issue apart.

So what was Jason's villainous return trying to say? For one, that people are the products of their circumstance, lest we forget Jason was once an eager and studious Robin who just wanted to be part of something greater when life, but specifically Bruce, sent him awry. This is also a story about Bruce which tells us says that our mistakes have consequences that don't stay buried, and that we will always be forced to reckon with our histories or it becomes everyone's problem. This next panel shows this best. All of Jason's killing and torture and fear-spreading and chaos does not come down to some "murder or not to murder" debate, it comes down to his relationship with Bruce. He is the monster that Frankenstein created who's back to haunt him and no one is safe.

Jason's initial Red Hood arcs were never supposed to pose the question "should Batman kill The Joker or not?". The answer is no and always has been. They are supposed to show us how Bruce's poor fatherhood of and partnership with Jason Todd led to all this horror. And Bruce can't turn back the clock, he has to reckon with the consequences of his actions in the present or more people will get hurt. It's significant that these first arcs don't end with Jason returning to the manor and seeking help surrounded by family.

We then see Jason and his issues with Bruce threaten the lives of others like when he beat Tim half to death twice, tried to blow up Mia Dearden and then tried to become a murderous, gun-touting Batman after Bruce's "death".

Once Dick Grayson becomes Batman, the narrative sheds a bit more light on how Bruce's Frankenstein created a monster in Jason; Bruce wanted Jason to be another Dick Grayson.

The red hair is a perfect metaphor. Jason is naturally red-haired and he is now balding because Bruce made him dye his hair black so he'd look like Dick as Robin. That sums it up for me. Bruce really created his own demon here and Dick, as the new Batman, is trying to make amends with the sins of the Batman's past. Jason's a great choice for a Dick Grayson villain because of their histories, considering Dick Grayson is the legacy Batman.

"I tried really hard to be what batman wanted me to be...which is you." Jason tells Dick.

That line is so painful and way more recognisable and relatable than anything fanon has produced.

"But this world...this dirty, twisted, cruel and ugly dungheap had...other plans for me."

Look no further, this is who Jason Todd is.

That's a powerful story if you ask me, and this is why I like Jason Todd as a character; a villain I pity deeply, who is portrayed as a product of their circumstances without diminishing their agency and who makes me see the cracks in the hero's facade because they are the monster our "hero" created. He's also a very nuanced foil to the ever-shining light that is Dick Grayson. The appeal to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein isn't that the monster murdered people. I also would never swap canon Jason out for, I dunno, Wayne Family Adventures Jason who's the amalgamation of 3 or 4 common fanon tropes. This is my two cents.

[anime-fan-05]

Can I request more bf headcanons for Nobu, Shin and Yasu?

Nana ~Boyfriend headcanons~

Manga/anime: Nana

Warnings: nothing

Yasu's headcanons are here.

T. Nobuo (Nobu)

Nobu confessed to you in such a romantic way you almost burst into tears from both happiness and embarrassment: one evening, he knocked on the window of your house, holding his guitar and a bouquet of red roses; after giving them to you, he began to play a very sweet melody he had composed for you, looking straight into your eyes for the entire time of the song; after making the last note, he told you he loved you in a soft, but also shy and trembling voice

Instead, you started the first kiss: you two were on one of your afternoon dates, and you were walking on the riverbank holding hands; it was winter, the sun was setting and it was very cold -in fact, you had to be wrapped up in your coats-, which is why you had to return to your homes (you weren't living together yet); he, as a gentleman, had accompanied you to your home and you, before entering the door, briefly placed your lips on his, whispering a delicate "thank you"

Regarding kisses, they're usually initiated by him and very sweet and soft, as if to show you all his affection for you; when you two kiss, one of his hands goes to hold your waist to draw you closer to him, the other is either on your cheek or on the back of your neck

He's very open about PDA: if you're in public and you want to hold hands or want him to hug you, he does it easily; perhaps, the only action he's very ashamed of are kisses, but, if you ask him for one, he's unable to resist your pleading eyes

Arguments between you two aren't very frequent, and most of the time they break out due to your insecurities; they aren't very violent and they're resolved quickly, since Nobu isn't able to stay away from you: generally, you make peace within one or two hours of an argument, also because he has no problem apologizing if he's wrong

O. Shin'ichi (Shin)

You confessed your feelings first: you two were arguing, since you were worried about him smoking too much and prostituting himself, and Shin was very angry due to that; at one point, he yelled to leave him alone, asking why you cared so much about him, to which you replied you loved him

I think you started the first kiss too: BLAST's debut concert had just ended in a huge success and all the band members were happy and very satisfied; you went to the concert and, as soon as you met Shin in his dressing room, you threw yourself into his arms, complimented him on the performance, and planted a sweet kiss on his lips

His kisses are very needy, and they reflect his desire to always be with you. If these are started by him, he has one hand wrapped around your waist and the other around the back of your neck; instead, if they're started by you, he's initially taken aback, and therefore he remains still for a few seconds, then he hugs you tightly, once the initial shock has passed

I think he's a lot more reserved about PDA: he'd rather keep all the affection just for you two, but he shows it in particular instances. For example, one day a man was bothering you while you were going out to have breakfast; Shin happened to pass by, but he immediately rushed towards you two, grabbed you by the waist and kissed you passionately

Your arguments often happen because of his impression you're interfering in his life (since he grew up without affection, it's normal for him to consider your slightest concern excessive and strange), and they're very strong, so much you often end up in tears due to his insensitive words; he's usually the first to apologize, but this happens at least a day after the argument, because he needs his time to reflect on the mean things he said to you

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

[yanderes-galore]

Hello! Can I request Glamrock Freddy yandere alphabet :>

Sure I can! Sorry for the long wait, I've been working my hardest, I swear!

Yandere Alphabet - Glamrock Freddy

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Babying, Kidnapping, Violence, Manipulation, Dubious companionship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Freddy is very friendly, honest, and protective. He cares deeply for his obsession. He can actually be overbearing when it comes to affection. He'd accidentally smother you with his affection, always wanting to protect you and see you smile.

He adores hugs and nuzzling into you, even if he is a robot. Freddy seems like he'd come off as intense but not mean to. He just gets so excited about you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Freddy usually likes to solve things in a non-violent way. He tries to stay away from excessive violence... but if you were really in danger? Well, he'll break such a rule for you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Freddy would treat you really well. He keeps you from harm and tends to your every need. Regardless of intentions, he acts very paternal.

Food, comfort, any sort of affection... all taken care of.

He would never mock you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He tries not to. He doesn't like forcing you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

A lot, actually. Freddy is very open with how much he cares about you. Sometimes he's vulnerable, but he likes to be strong for you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Disappointed and confused. He's delusional and doesn't quite understand why his darling is fighting him.

After all... isn't he protecting you?

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No and he hates it. You could get hurt!

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

For the most part, Freddy is really tame. The worst experience is probably him kidnapping you and not listening to you due to his delusions.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

However, if you want to bring the Afton Virus into this... any violent action involving that would work.

Honestly, seeing him snap and hurt someone is rare, but could happen too.

He isn't quite sure. What he wants to do is follow you, make sure you're well taken care of, and defend you like a guardian should.

It's part of his programming.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

I imagine Freddy does get jealous, but he either hides it or inserts himself into your conversations. He loves to be included.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Obsessive, Overprotective, Anxious, Clingy, Manipulative, Smothering, Caring.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

I imagine you're either a STAFF member or a guest he manages to lock on to. Afterwards he follows his little obsession curiously. As you can imagine... it gets progressively worse... and one day, by the end of closing time, you're locked in his room.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really, he isn't good at masking.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Freddy probably punishes you like a child due to his programming. Like... literal timeouts in his room. He doesn't want to do anything too intense.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Under his care? Probably most of them. Even if he doesn't mean them.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient. He has to be due to what he does.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He probably would if his memory was wiped... other than that, no, he probably would not move on.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

A little and maybe.

It would take a lot of convincing.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Most likely a glitch in his programming or maybe the Afton Virus?

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He hates seeing you upset and would do whatever he can to comfort you. After all... what kind of companion would he be if he didn't?

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Playing along with it until you can find help most likely.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not intentionally.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not really a worship yandere but would do anything to keep you by his side. He wants to see you happy and safe.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

If you're STAFF, if could be weeks or months. A customer? Perhaps within the day, depending on how attached he is.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not intentionally.

[lovemyromance]

your posts are literally the elriel bible, I don't think i've disagreed with a single one.

In general, elriels agree on a lot of things which is why it's so odd to find EL/GAs fighting with themselves over "elriels say elains gonna be a warrior" and "elriels say elain's gonna save illyria" because I have never EVER seen a single elriel say such a thing. I saw a long post from some elucien about how elriels self-insert and then they listed a long list of things about what canon elain is - except i don't think elriels would even disagree with what they were saying?

It got kind of muddy when they started trying to claim that "canonically azriel only lusts after elain" but whatever - you get the point. Why are they putting words in our mouths?

Thank you :) I know I always excessively post about elriel (because I'm pretty sure I have the attention span of a squirrel), but some days these petty arguments really make my eye twitch.

Idk why antis seem to think Elriels want Elain to be some warrior, savior of Illyria, High Queen type character. I thought we've all been pretty vocal in wanting to keep her femininity and her kindness and finding strength in her compassion.

If it's because the fanarts....well I think we've all established that nobody is really claiming fanarts to be canon. I think that goes without saying when we have fanart of an Elriel family with Illyrian offspring - or when Eluciens have fanart of Elain looking happy around Lucien lmao. Both are not canon. Who cares - it's fanart? It's not like we really going to pretend that all their fanart is canon either?

Because canonically - Elain can't stand Lucien. Canonically, Azriel has literally never touched Gwyn.

There are basic traits to these characters that nobody can deny. But the antis always have a way of adding additional, personal bias into things. They say Elain's not a warrior - cool, that's true, that's canon – but then they take it a step too far and try to claim its canon that she abhors all violence and she would never touch a dagger and she would hate Azriel because he's a warrior.

Canonically, Elain killed the fucking King of Hybern. She might not crave violence (oh- also what an odd thing to claim - that ANY character loves violence, btw), but she has already proven to be violent when needed.

Canonically, Elain does use a dagger. Not just any dagger - Truthteller.

Nobody's saying she out here training as a Valkyrie at the HOW - but she's not just sitting here in frolicking in a meadow while the rest of her friends and family go to war. She was literally taken AWAY from the main battle in ACOWAR and she still showed back up to pull the most badass move in the books, saving everyone.

Idk what about that is so hard to understand. No Elriel has said she's gonna save Illyria (lol), no one has claimed she's going to be Enalius the Second, nobody is out here waiting for her to take part in the BR and also become a Carthyian.

Elriels like Elain as she is. And even though she's not a warrior, even though she doesn't enjoy violence, even though she isn't a Cartyhian – Azriel still adores her. Azriel still wants her enough to question his religion. That's literally in the books. I can give you the exact page number and quote. I don't need to do any "extra analysis"

You want to talk about canon? Let's talk about how Elain is so perfect that she has even the most brooding warrior falling for her. Let's talk about how Azriel was willing to fight in a blood duel for her. Let's talk about how she was so ready to have a tryst with the Spymaster under everyone's watchful eyes.

We don't need to change anything about Elain, certainly not to have her end up with Azriel. Elriel having feelings for each other is already canon. Elriels did not have to change a single thing about them for them to find each other. That was SJM, so take it up with her.

I mean - she kind of ate when she summed up their relationship in ACOWAR with that scene in the garden...they might not make sense on paper but there's something poetic about them

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Homestuck Reread: Act 5-1, Part 1/5 (p. 1989-2099)

Read the previous post here.

Well the last post got a much more positive reception than I expected, so that's a relief. Anyway, get the grey face paint ready, because it's time for Act 5-1.

Alternian script is the Daedric alphabet from The Elder Scrolls series flipped upside down, which I'm sure most fans know already. The user tries entering "Turdodor Fuckball" for the planet's name.

Interestingly, the correct name is not "Alternia" but "Trollplanet." Is that what Alternia translates to into English? There's like zero discussion at all about troll language because Hussie did not give a single shit about developing this alien society beyond "grey violent humans with horns."

Right out the gate, Karkat's intro leads with his key character trait: his crippling self-loathing. Everything about him, from how he excessively plays up his competence and knowledge to his naturally angry and defensive disposition, stems from the fact that he views himself as a defective freak that constantly needs to prove himself.

His interests are similar to John's. He likes bad movies, specifically romcoms, which ties into his greater passion for romance and the study of interpersonal relationships as a whole. He also has an inexplicable interest in programming. It's at least implied that Karkat only attempts to learn so he can try to compete with Sollux in a futile rivalry. The reason why John likes to program is anyone's guess.

His greatest dream is to join the Alternian military, which is probably the only viable career path for someone of his pariah status. He's constantly in danger of being culled, so he wants to prove to the Empire that he's more valuable to them alive rather than dead. In order to preserve his life, he's willing to serve them and become a tool they can use to further their intergalactic conquests.

"Trolls think fashion is stupid." A simple phrase that is regularly ignored by people who create fantrolls with garish and elaborate outfits.

A good programmer would have no trouble with this modus, so Karkat forces himself to use it until he gets good. Even though it's frustrating and causes him misery, he's so stubborn to prove himself as a good programmer that it reaches the point where Sollux has to take it away from him. Probably because it has become too much of a hindrance. IDK, we never see much of the trolls' session to find out, which is a fucking shame.

Karkat's stubbornness is also a key part of his character. See also: his trolling scheme of trolling John backwards through time is something he admits is stupid, but he continues to go through with it. He will admit he's wrong, often begrudgingly and self-deprecatingly, but will double down and refuse to change course despite that. Giving up is synonymous with failure, something he is deathly afraid of.

If Karkat is so afraid of letting his blood color become known, why does he have candy-red awnings outside his hive? He might as well have a big sign alerting everyone that a mutant lives there.

Everything about Karkat has to be big, flashy, and important. His huge ambitions compensate for his self-loathing so that others don't view him as the worthless mutant he sees himself as. He has to prove that he is a good programmer, he is a strong leader, and he will be the best threshecutioner in the whole military!

This pretty much summarizes what Karkat wants in life: to overcome caste discrimination and gain prestige and respect.

It's tempting to call Will Smith Karkat's "patron black celebrity" but I won't because 1) that whole thing doesn't carry over to the trolls, and 2) this is actually relevant to Karkat's character and not some bizarre, nonsense """joke""" like with the kids.

I've always been a big fan of "angry/uptight guy" and "goofy dumb guy" dynamics, and Karkat and Gamzee fit that to a T. Even though Karkat is extremely rude to Gamzee, he doesn't ever dispute the notion that they are in fact friends. Their friendship is being treated as an established fact, something Karkat uses an excuse to further whinge about how much his life sucks.

Gamzee drops his typing quirk momentarily. This doesn't happen often in the comic, but it's something trolls only ever do when they're close to someone, if they want to express something serious, or both.

Even before the introduction of quadrants, we see hints of a pale dynamic between them. Gamzee is the perfect sounding board for Karkat's vents, doesn't object to the verbal abuse being slung his way, and is implied much later on to be a somewhat of a calming source for Karkat. Yes of course I ship them pale. I just think they're neat, okay? <> :)

Gamzee very inelegantly changes the subject after mentioning Sollux and Karkat's friendship. Karkat may be Gamzee's best friend, but Sollux is Karkat's best friend. That must be a sore spot for him. But beyond this, we never ever see what Sollux and Gamzee's relationship might be like. It would've been nice if Gamzee was more jealous and protective of his best friend/moirail and not like it when Karkat shows more favor to anyone else.

Gamzee and Karkat's dynamic is something that I believe Hussie wanted to set up throughout the Act so that their eventual confrontation would have a bigger payoff, but he fumbled massively with the execution. Either because he doesn't really give a shit about Gamzee, or through sheer inept writing, I can't say. But it sucks because there's definitely a lot of potential here.

They're the first trolls to interact in this new Act, but they don't really ever talk much after this point. They're only ever seen together sporadically and it's implied a handful of times that they're closer than Karkat is willing to let on, but there's never anything beyond that. They really needed to speak more so their relationship could be fleshed out. I'll talk more about this as I move along because this lives in my brain rent-free.

It's really dumb how Gamzee's "rather obscure cult" ended up turning into a religion that pretty much every purple blood follows, but I'm not going to talk about post-canon garbage. I get a headache just thinking about it.

I do like the Joker Card posters in his room. I had that Riddle Box one in my own room for a time.

He likes to "chat a lot" with Karkat. So I guess they just talk to each other way more than what's shown in the text. Thanks, Hussie.

Gamzee never received a proper upbringing from his guardian and had to essentially raise himself. In the process of this, he became addicted to mind-altering substances. To everyone who says Bro is the worst guardian in the story, I gladly point you all to Goat Dad.

Terezi is being intentionally annoying. I know most of the trolls are assholes, but why do any of them waste their time with Terezi when she makes it a point to be obnoxious? It's even more baffling when people try to paint her as one of the more "well-adjusted" trolls.

Karkat fantasizes about making doomsday viruses, huh? I'm going to keep a pin in this for l8r I mean later...

It's funny how Karkat both admires and envies Sollux. Their relationship is also one that doesn't get a lot of attention, despite ostensibly being the "John" and "Dave" parallels of the troll cast. Oh wait, I guess John and Dave's friendship ended up being really shallow and one-sided too. So this tracks, actually.

Sollux disparages Gamzee's religion and expresses disgust when he suspects Karkat might be a convert. So again, I think there's definitely some conflict between these two. Two of the trolls that Karkat is closest to don't seem to like each other. It makes me kind of wish we got some auspistice action between the three of them.

Even though Karkat is regularly rude to his friends, he still values their company deep down. He might be one of the most personable trolls despite his grouchy attitude. He not only tolerates the obnoxious people in his contacts, he actually considers them his close friends. Gamzee is a total dullard and Sollux is crass and moody, but they're also the ones he's closest to. Out of the main cast of trolls, there's only one whom Karkat actively dislikes and makes no real attempt at being sociable with. I'll talk about that when I reach that part.

"Orchestrating the demise of the wicked" yeah I'm sure John was guilty of being very wicked and dastardly when she sent him to his death.

Terezi has a passion for justice, but keep in mind that "justice" on Alternia is equivalent to sentencing people to death for the pettiest of reasons. So no, she is not at all some moral, upstanding heroine. She's a psychotic gremlin who enjoys killing people if they violate her draconian interpretation of the law. She does not care for defending victims of injustice, she enforces the will of the state.

Part of Terezi's core conceit is that she's this half-assed Daredevil parody. She's 1) blind and has super senses 2) uses a cane to fight, and 3) is a "lawyer." Aside from that, she shares nothing else in common with Daredevil. I imagine Hussie does not know anything about superheroes beyond superficial, pop culture knowledge.

I remember when people loved to portray Nepeta and Terezi as good friends, but Terezi doesn't actually like role playing with her. She treats her like a joke, much like everyone else. Poor Nepeta gets such a raw deal.

In Nepeta's very first speaking appearance, we get a glimpse of her horrible relationship with Equius. Despite the physical distance between them, she's so browbeaten into subservience that she feels the need to ask him for "purrmission" before doing anything. She is scared about expressing her honest desires around him, preferring to skirt around the issue and just blindly hoping that things will work out and he won't get mad at her. It feels like someone trying to wear kid gloves around an abusive partner or parent. Despite Terezi's concerns, Nepeta tries to downplay the issue and pretend everything's fine.

This conversation is honestly sad to read. "But nooo they are bestest friends!" I hear the fans cry as they flock around the flanderized, fluffy art of Nepeta and Equius. Is that why she straight up admits that she's scared of him? Fuck Meowrails. I hate that shit so much. I'm going to spit so much acid every time it rears its ugly head.

We have to constantly be reminded of Terezi's blindness since it really doesn't impact her character in a meaningful way. Sure she can't see, but she can navigate the world around her so adeptly with her super senses that it's a non-issue. Nobody would even notice that she's blind if she wasn't always pointing it out.

Eridan is mentioned as being part of this inner circle that's in the know about Sgrub. Huh.

I'm old enough to remember when Eridan had yet to be revealed and the only information about him was this page. Some people thought he'd be some kind of environmental activist. It's funny to think about now, but I really miss the days when fans would theorize about future updates and unseen characters. All that guesswork and theorycrafting led to some really fun discussions and fanworks. The boundless creativity shown by the fans was what made the Homestuck fandom something really special in those days. And it's something we lost once the comic was finished and Hussie's completed product didn't measure up to the fans' expectations.

I really really miss 2010-11, you guys...

I really have to question the logistics of this convoluted reproduction cycle. If the adult trolls are off-world, how long does it take the drones to transport the genetic material back to Alternia? Are they just zipping all across the galaxy to do constant jizz runs?

None of this really matters because as previously established, the main trolls were not born in this manner. They're all slime constructs born from an entirely separate incestuous slurry from natural trolls. I think Hussie just has an obsession with creatures being birthed from goo or something.

One of the biggest problems with Act 5-1 is this rushed tone it has. It's weird to say because I remember how often people complained about how long the Act was taking to wrap up, but it's true! Hussie really wants to zip through these character introductions without elaborating on any of the worldbuilding he touches upon along the way. It's what makes troll society as a whole feel so shallow and not well thought out.

These characters really needed their own story divorced from that of the kids and Sburb. A story where the Alternia setting could be allowed to breathe and be explored more thoroughly and thoughtfully. I think that would've made for a more entertaining read.

Sollux gets this fake-out intro that's basically a retread of Dave's. Aside from being kind of standoffish and tech-savvy, this parallel doesn't go anywhere. There's little else that connects Sollux with Dave because Sollux is hardly a main character. He is the tech guy who has mood swings, doesn't like to be involved with shenanigans, and has visions of doom that make him depressed. He's a glorified background character.

Okay, "beenary code" is kind of a lame pun, but I do think "silicomb" is clever.

Kanaya lives near the ruins of Alternia's frog temple. Both she and Aradia are kind of the "Jade" of the trolls' session. Aradia by means of doing background plot stuff, and Kanaya through... I suppose theming? Both she and Jade are isolated, considered "outliers" in their culture/friend group, receive regular visions from Skaia, and are the teams' Space players.

It's worth noting how both the "Jade" trolls wind up being the most stoic, unflappable characters of the cast and mostly serve the purpose of being exposition-dumpers and plot devices. Kinda like Jade herself, except instead of being deadpan she's quirky and all over the place.

I feel like this post could've been a lot longer, but I'm limiting myself to only five posts for this Act. I don't want to stretch this project out too long, lest I be yapping about the trolls until the end of time.

Read the next post here.

[8myass]

nct 2023 yandere headcannons ♡

genre. angst, some are smutty/suggestive, fluff? (not much) cw. yandere!nct + sungchan + shotaro pairing. nct x female reader

✩ ​JAEMIN ✩ tw. gaslighting, mind games/manipulation wc. 0.2k

Jaemin would be the best yandere, honestly. He’s not necessarily crazy to the fullest extent of what a yandere “typically” is, but he would get obsessively in love when he loves. He would write you love notes and show up at your house with flowers when you didn’t even know you gave him your address. You didn’t, you never gave it to him, but he’d be such a good sweet talker that you’d be convinced you’re just not remembering the events correctly and go about your life without bothering to think about how you could’ve completely blurred out an entire memory. But he’d never lie to you, he seems like such a nice guy. I mean, he buys you everything you’ve ever wanted, why would he lie to you? He would buy you your favorite candies, band merchandise, books, everything you’d ever want, he’d know what you like without even trying. But every time you’d ask him how he knows so much about you, having not known you for long enough that you’d tell him anything like that, he would just brush it off and claim you did tell him, you’re just not remembering it right. Everything with him would just be a game, you’d never expect what he’d come up with next, but it’d always leave you confused and questioning the truth, yet he’d always reassure you. Because, again, how could he ever lie to you? All he wants to do is spoil you, he’s just a sweet guy, right?

✩ HAECHAN ✩ tw. bullying, mind games/manipulation, gaslighting wc. 97 (idk why hyuck’s is so short omg 😭)

Haechan would be the type of yandere to bully you into loving him. I mean, he’d go to great lengths to make you feel vulnerable, sensitive, weak, embarrassed even. He’d want you to think of him as your savior. Sure, he’s the one doing it to you, but you’d never hold it against him. He doesn’t mean it after all – that’s what he tells you. And you’re too naively alone to think the only person who wants to associate themselves with you anymore could be the whole reason your life has been ruined in the first place.

✩ LUCAS ✩ tw. cursing, implied kidnapping, crying, implied inflicting pain on reader, possessiveness wc. 0.2k

Lucas would be such a BAD yandere. Literally, he could never hurt anyone, but he could love excessively. Maybe his love would come off as a little suffocating. He doesn’t mean for it to be like that. He just can’t help but love someone as amazing as you so much that it hurts both of you. Like I said, he’d be such a bad yandere, he’s violent but it’s not by choice. You just wanna keep running away from him and it drives him crazy. Who is that new guy you’ve been talking to? Why do you think he’s so much better than him? Why is it that you’ve been ignoring him for this new toy? This asshole is just a shiny object, he’s your soulmate, your one and only, why can’t you see that? It’s not his fault he has to hide you from the rest of the world to keep you from returning to anyone else who isn’t him. He didn’t wanna do this either and each time you cry, he cries. You’re his love and he regrets everything he’s done to hurt you, but yet he won’t stop because you’re his and you need to know that you’re his. 

✩ HENDERY ✩ tw. stalking, stealing reader’s things wc. 0.1k

Hendery is also not the best yandere. He doesn’t really understand what’s happening to him. His body reacts differently when you’re around, his heart flutters out of his chest every time you say his name. You two aren’t close, you just know him as a friend of a friend and only really see him at parties or in class or sometimes at lunch, but he’s always there, always. He can’t help it, he just wants to be around you all the time so he lets himself follow you. It’s probably not the smartest or most honest thing he could be doing, why not go up and talk to you like a normal person? He’s not shy or antisocial, but you’re just different. He doesn’t wanna embarrass himself around you, even when you laugh at his jokes he can’t help but think that you’re laughing at him instead. What if you’re judging him? Are you laughing with him or at him? Would you still find him funny if you realized he’d stolen your dirty sports bra from your gym locker just so he could always be close to you? 

✩ TAEYONG ✩ tw. victim blaming, gaslighting, cursing, degrading wc. 0.2k

Taeyong would be super caring, taking care of your every need like that’s what he was born to do. However, he couldn’t help but be frustrated when you admitted you only saw him as a brotherly figure in your life after he confessed to you. He poured his heart out to you after everything he’s done for you and all you do is reject him? That broke him, you broke him. Do you know how annoying it was to come over to your house every morning and make you breakfast when you were fully capable of doing it yourself? What about how aggravating it was to be expected to drive you to school every day and watch as you walked over to that boy toy of yours, seeing him hanging all over you in your slutty schoolgirl clothes? And when you prance around in his presence in just a t-shirt and underwear, do you understand how hard it was to control his urges then?? You have no clue what he has had to go through just to get you in this position, confessing to you and telling you how much he adores you. Now, all you give him is heartbreak. Well, now it’s your time to be broken. After all the suffering he’s gone through, now it’s finally your turn.

✩ TEN ✩ tw. slight stalking, gaslighting, mind games/manipulation, cursing, implied sex w/ reader’s friends, sadistic ten wc. 0.2k

Ten would be the kind of yandere that would love the chase – the chase is better than anything that comes after. He wants you to play hard to get, so he’ll play as the greatest example of a person you would despise the most. Don’t worry, he’s done his research. You hate everything that he is, just as he had planned. He’s a manwhore, flipping through women like they mean absolutely nothing to him because they don’t. He’d flirt with you and try his “manipulation games” on you, all of which you can see through just as he wants you to and it makes you even more repulsed by him. In the end, you’d wind up hating him more than anything in this world. He’d hit on your friends and they’d easily fall for his games, letting him take advantage of them, only to get even deeper under your skin, targeting even closer to home this time. You would confront him about it, tell him to leave you and your friends alone because none of you want anything to do with him. He would savor every moment of your anger and rage, wallowing in the misery that he’s surrounded you with. He loves this, seeing you so distressed, pleading with him to leave you alone. It’s not that easy, though. You’re like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Sadly, you haven’t realized that once he set his eyes on you, your life was in his hands.

✩ JENO ✩ tw. cursing, mentions manipulation (no one is actually manipulated), implied stalking, pictures being taken w/o reader’s permission, possessiveness wc. 0.2k

Jeno would always come off as cold, but that’s not how he is with you. He’s an absolute asshole to everyone else, but you’re just the only one he likes. You’d be his safe place, the person he can confide in and talk to and the only one he can be vulnerable around, let his true self show. You’re intelligent, you’d see through any game he tried to play if he wanted to manipulate you like that. He never would, he likes you exactly how you are and he only prays that you feel the same about him. But, goddamn, would he have one hell of a collection of your pictures decorating every room in his house. Most of them would be pictures you didn’t know he took, others would be pictures you willingly allowed him to take, thinking all he’d do was keep them buried in the memories in his camera, but you were dead wrong, and instead, your beautiful pictures litter the walls of his home. You’ve never been over because of how often you’d run into a photograph you didn’t know was being taken on a surface in his house, he’d only ever come to yours. However, he does have a major aggressive side and won’t hesitate to display that to others who decide they wanna touch what’s his. He even makes sure you know that you’re his, there’s no such thing as you belonging to someone else, not even yourself. You are his and you need to learn that. 

✩ JAEHYUN ✩ tw. mentally unstable reader, getting in a stranger’s car in the middle of the night?? (stay safe y’all), getting engaged in like a week??, broke reader, gold digger reader, manipulation, sadistic jae wc. 0.3k

Jaehyun is a menace. I mean, a literal menace. You met him at your job that you’re working only to get out of a money slump you’ve been in since you graduated school and your parents kicked you out. You haven’t been sleeping right and your mind has been all funky, you’re not necessarily who you used to be. Your bubbly personality has been stolen from you by the endless amounts of sleep you’ve lost trying to make enough money to eat at least a meal a day. Well, actually, you didn’t meet him at the job, you met him after the job. It was late and you were walking home, but he stopped you, asking to give you a ride. You were too tired to reject his proposal, especially after he kept pestering you, so you just got into his car and told him your address. He brought you home the next couple of nights as well until he finally proposed the question of marriage. You actually popped something in your jaw out of shock, what the hell was wrong with him? However, as much as you wanted to reject his offer, he managed to blur all your rationality with the color green. He had actually managed to score a beautiful girl such as yourself with the thought of being able to live a rich life, he was proud of himself. Once you two finalized the marriage, he started getting harsher, meaner, more manipulative and sadistic. You wanted to get away from him, but you practically signed your life away under your marriage certificate, you couldn’t leave him now or you’d lose everything. He’d make your life hell, take everything you have away from you, you were sure of that much. You had to tolerate his shit behavior toward you now, make him as happy as you could, make yourself the perfect wife that he wants, even if it means you’ll be miserable for the rest of your life, at least you won’t be living on the streets somewhere. And he did it, that’s exactly the mindset he wants you to have.

✩ RENJUN ✩ tw. mentions shrine, pictures taken w/o reader knowing, clothes stolen from reader, implied stalking, masturbation (m receiving), panty-fucking wc. 0.2k

Renjun is actually the most adorable yandere in the world. He would be so soft and so sweet. I mean, behind closed doors he’d be the one to keep a shrine of you in his house. You’d have a room all to yourself. It’d be pink, just as he expects to be your favorite color, and it’d be filled with pictures of you, because how could you not want to look at yourself every day, and the pieces of clothing he’s stolen from your own room would be adorning the drawers of the dresser, the clothing you’d been searching for because you thought you lost them in your room. Oh, silly girl, it’s okay to lose things sometimes, maybe just go out and buy some more, the cherry panties always were the cutest on you. You’d trust him so much that you wouldn’t expect him to snap pictures of your naked body and post them all over the walls of his house, you would never expect such an innocent boy to touch himself while staring at those same pictures while holding your dirty panties from the other day, right? He’ll call you in the middle of the night just to hear your raspy voice, becoming turned on by the tired aura you’re alluding. You drive him crazy, he’d never do this for anyone else. He’s crazed, a madman in love with a beautiful princess who knows nothing of how obsessed he is.

✩ SHOTARO ✩ tw. mind games, rich girl reader, poor taro, depression, homicide, suicide, dubcon aspects, controlling taro, slight possessiveness wc. 0.3k

Shotaro would be a lot more cruel than what you’d think. But it’s exactly that, you’d never think that he’d ever be capable of doing the things he’s very much done. Once he falls, it’s completely over for you and your once-happy life. You were a bubbly girl, you got the best grades in school, everyone loved you, you were friends with just about everyone, and you even came from a rich family, you were spoiled rotten and got everything you ever wanted just handed to you without working for anything. That’s one thing he envied you for, because everything you have, he doesn’t nearly have the same. He’s poor and can barely even afford to feed his family a single meal a day even having worked all week. You never even noticed him. You were so oblivious to his persistent stares and obvious perverted remarks. He just wanted to take you all for himself, force your parents out of that mansion of yours and force himself into it. He just didn’t know how he could do that until he came across your depressed, homicidal little brother. You didn’t see it coming and even when it happened, you were in so much shock that you couldn’t even tell what had happened in the first place. Your brother committed suicide after killing both your parents right in front of your eyes. The only reason you got out of taking the blame for it all is because of the high-end surveillance cameras all throughout your house. Still in a state of disbelief, you went about living your life, slowly falling into his little plan even deeper as you completely distanced yourself from those you were close with, grades dropped, a depressive personality replaced your once bright one. You eventually found your way into his arms, unknowingly giving yourself to him without even trying, your mind not in the right place to be declining any amount of physical touch. In not even a week, he had moved in and attempted to replace the joyous atmosphere that once resided in your house with a warmer and more controlled one. You were at his constant mercy, doing everything for him, your soul so bent to his every will that you had no place to reject anything he says, does, or asks of you. You were his and you even knew that by now.

✩ SUNGCHAN ✩ tw. drugging, paralysis, doll reader wc. 0.1k

Sungchan is a gentle giant, really. He would treat you with care, making sure you’re never hurt and that he doesn’t pull too hard while brushing your hair in the mornings. He would make sure that every time he cooks breakfast for you, he’d slip just the right amount of pills into your omelet so that you’re paralyzed just enough for you to still be breathing and blinking. He’d dress you in the prettiest pink dresses and decorate your dollhouse, I mean room, with the prettiest pink decor. He would do your hair in pigtails with pink ribbons holding them up. Your makeup would be terrible, but it’d make you look all the more like a pretty doll, his pretty doll. You were all his to treat however he wanted. You would never disobey him and you’d always love him, he’d make sure of that with the paralyzers pumping through your veins. You were the only one he’d go to such lengths to keep, all the other ones were meaningless when it came down to you. You were just the lucky one he chose to love forever.

✩ KUN ✩ tw. knife, cursing, threatening, pet names (‘queen’, ‘princess’, ‘lady’), kidnapping, fictional world in kun’s head??, name calling (‘psychopath’), reader x kun are complete strangers wc. 0.2k

Kun would be a gentleman. Okay, sure, he’d have his crazy moments, like when he holds a knife up to some asshole’s throat because he laid a hand on you. But it’s fine because he’d never hurt you. He would only hurt for you. He loves you, he won’t let you forget that. He’ll take you out on romantic dinners, hold you close every night so you can fall asleep in his arms, hold the doors for you, bring you chocolate and flowers on your anniversary, treat you like a lady no matter where you are. You’d be his queen, his princess, his lady, you’d be his entire world and he won’t treat you any differently. Another one of his crazy moments might be when he kidnaps you and refuses to allow you to leave his house so he can do all of those things with the real you instead of the “you” in the fictional world inside his head. But that’s also fine because you’re safe, he would never hurt you. You’re his pride and joy, the reason he keeps living. Sure, you’ve told him you hate him for this, claimed you didn’t even know who he was, called him a psychopath, and all you’re trying to do is hurt his feelings, but no matter how mad he gets at you or how much you refuse to accept his love right now, you’ll see that he keeps his promise of never hurting you.

✩ WINWIN ✩ tw. murder, framing reader’s sister, dubcon aspects, implied stalking, alcohol consumption wc. 0.2k

Winwin is the biggest sweetheart, how could he ever do something so gruesome as to kill your family? You were rendered homeless, an orphan, you had nothing. You were the biggest suspect in the case, but when a murder weapon with your older sister’s fingerprints turned up in a ditch not too far from the house the murder happened in, you were also rendered an only child. You had nowhere to go and no one to turn to, until you met him in a random turn of events. You’ve never seen him before and while drunk, you definitely didn’t recognize his voice either. He knew you, he’s known you for quite some time. When you woke up in his bed the following morning, it was hard to believe you had run into such a generous man. You had apparently told him all about what happened to you in this past year and he graciously offered you a place to stay, which you had also accepted in your drunken state. You were more hesitant now that you were in a better mindset, but you just couldn’t say no to his soft eyes and grateful smile, so you wound up moving in with him. Your life was so easy and so simple from then on out. Sure, you never had any friends because they’d all go missing the moment they started talking to you, but that’s really the only complaint you could ever have, everything you wanted fit so perfectly into your hands as soon as you put it out into the world, or into his head.

✩ TAEIL ✩ tw. slow-burn romance, crying, mentions being dumped/stood up, cursing, sleeping w/ his brother??, choking, possessiveness, dub/noncon aspects wc. 0.2k

Taeil was calm and patient with getting you. He met you and let your relationship slowly develop. He wouldn’t make any rash decisions and he would let you venture into relationships outside of your slow-paced one, allowing you to experience adventure before coming right back to him, which you always did. You’d crawl back to him on all fours, crying, begging for him to take you back because you were stood up or dumped and you were now so desperate for male attention that it all had to come right back to him. You were never rejected though, he was wrapped around your pretty little finger. But soon, you made it a point to hurt him, you did it all on purpose, at least that’s what he thought. You didn’t, you were drunk and he wasn’t around and you were so so so lonely, you slept with his brother. Once he found out, he was livid, to say the least. You were really in for it when he got his hands on you next, and you did not get to leave him ever again. “Surprise, bitch,” he would say to you, his hand gripping your throat tightly as you struggled underneath his body and unforgiving scowl, “You broke me, are you happy? Now you can find adventure in me, and me alone.” 

✩ DOYOUNG ✩ tw. tsundere doyo, blood, black eye, bruises, physical abuse wc. 0.1k

Doyoung bullies you because he likes you, he’d be a tsundere type yandere. He’d want your heart, but he also wouldn’t like to admit that he’d fall apart without you in his life, especially considering he likes to believe that he hates you. It’s easy for him to ignore the stinging in his chest whenever you tell him you hate him with blood spilling from your nose, a black eye, and bruises that were all over your body from the beating you took from him the previous day. You were more of a punching bag to him. The more he loved you, the harder it was for him to stop abusing you. Every day it would happen, he looked at it as a joyous time because he got to see you and touch you and hear your adorable little squeals and pleas. He was awful to you and you never would’ve loved him because of how terrible of a person he was, this ate at him and so he made sure every punch he bashed into your pretty face was just as painful as the heartbreak he experiences every time he looks at you.

✩ JOHNNY ✩ tw. size kink, corruption kink, mind games/manipulation, gaslighting, sleeping w/ reader’s sister and mom and best friend, drugging, depression, victim blaming (not to reader) wc. 0.2k

Johnny obviously is a lot bigger than you, which is a whole lot of his attraction to you. You’re just so tiny and huggable, squeezable even. He loves that about you, you’re so small and adorable. He just wants to break you, but he isn’t capable of doing such a thing. He “loves” you, after all. So, he’ll break you through other people. He wants to keep you tiny and sweet, you’re not allowed to get bigger and you’re definitely not allowed to become any less innocent. No one else is allowed to corrupt you because you’re only his to ruin. He would do everything you like, put the most effort into making you feel loved. In the end, he’d make you fall in love with him, you’d be so head over heels for him that when he sleeps with your best friend, you’d be crushed. When he sleeps with your sister, you’d be crushed. When he sleeps with your mom, you’d be absolutely shattered. Your entire world was completely destroyed. Of course, they’d all be drugged, none of them ever would’ve done that to you under their own free will, but you don’t know that. You’d fall into a deep depression, and who else would be there to lift you back up other than him? You couldn’t be mad at him, you loved him. Plus, he didn’t do it, he convinced you that he was forced into it because he was drunk and wasn’t in his right mind while they were, they took advantage of him in his most vulnerable state. You felt bad for him and cowered into his arms, accepting him as the only true person in your life anymore.

✩ JISUNG ✩ tw. power imbalance, alcohol consumption, bruises, professor x student relations, author reader, blackmailing, dubcon aspects, explicit photos and videos, cursing, name calling (‘whore’), degradation wc. 0.3k

Jisung loves having power advantages over the one he “loves”. If you have anything more than he has, you’re worthless to him. It’s such a good thing that he found you, he might’ve been lonely if he hadn’t found you stumbling out of the bar in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your cheeks, alcohol staining your breath, bruises coating the delicate skin of your wrists. You looked absolutely ruined, perfect. You had no idea whose hands you managed yourself into when you tripped over the uneven sidewalk and fell straight into his loving arms. Your eyes were dazed and your words couldn’t be understood even by an equally drunk person. You were unable to tell him where your car was or even where your house was when he shoved you into his car to help drive you home. You were perfect, really. He couldn’t have found a more vulnerable, pretty girl such as yourself. He already knew who you were, you were a professor at the college he also attended. Aside from that, your father owned the entirety of the college and you had a job on the side as an author that was just starting to pick up. If pictures of you having sex with one of your students had gotten out, it could ruin your entire life, not just a single career path. You were made aware of this matter as soon as you woke up naked in the bed of one of your students, photos and videos of the events that had taken place last night all over his phone. He made sure to show you every single thing he had on his phone of how nasty you were last night. You begged him not to let anyone else see them, pleaded that he kept them for his eyes only if he kept them at all. However, just in doing that, you made the biggest mistake of your life. Claiming you’d do anything for him as long as they didn’t get out to the public? Such a dumb little whore you were, giving your life up to him so easily.

✩ CHENLE ✩ tw. bribing, sugar daddy/website mentioned, hookups, sex for cash, cursing, name calling (from reader to reader; ‘whore’), implied murder, dacryphilia, degradation wc. 0.1k

Chenle would also use his money to bribe you into being with him. Of course, it’d be more of a simple hookup at first. You’d sleep with him for cash out of desperation, knowing you seem like a whore, but you didn’t care because money was the most important thing. But no matter how many times you claimed it would be just a one-time thing, he would always call you back to his place with a higher reward. You kept falling right back into his greedy grasp, always as desperate for the cash as you were the first time you met. His routine worked out lovely until you found your way onto some sugar daddy website, finding yourself a replacement for him. So, were you tired of him already? He was pissed, to say the least. You just abandoned him like that, how could you? He wasn’t done with you. And he’ll make sure you understand that when that new sugar daddy of yours is lying lifeless on the floor as he fucks you into tears, telling you everything he plans on doing to his little piggy bank.

✩ YANGYANG ✩ tw. clingy yang, possessiveness, implied kidnapping, persistent boy yang, pet name (‘darling’) wc. 0.2k

Yangyang, yeah, sure, he’s a brat, but you’d never see that side of him. His entire personality would revolve around you. You don’t like mean people? He’d be the nicest boy around. You want a man who goes to the gym? He’ll get a gym membership and work out every damn day. You want your man to be a cat person and not a dog person? He’ll buy himself a whole house full of cats and name them all after something you like. You can tell him to completely change his appearance and he’d do that for you, because he loves you. The only thing he could never do is leave you alone. You have his heart now and you’re never gonna get rid of him. Eventually, you’ll start getting tired of his persistent nature and clinginess, so you’ll tell him off. He’ll be confused and won’t know what’s gotten into you, or even how to react, but then he’ll just go back to being obsessive over you. Maybe after the twelfth or thirteenth time of you flipping on him, he’ll begin to understand that you don’t want him in all the ways he wants you. And maybe that’s when he snaps. Maybe that’s when he takes you all for himself and he shows you all the ways he is willing to take you. Now, now, you can scream at him all you want, but he won’t listen to your pleas. Once he has his mind set on something, he’ll never give up till he gets what he wants. And you’re what he wants. Now that he has you, he’s never gonna let you go, ever, you’re his forever now, darling.

✩ YUTA ✩ tw. stalking, voyeurist yu, hidden cameras, pictures being taken w/o reader’s permission, stealing clothes, breaking into reader’s house wc. 0.2k

Yuta would be all about the stalking aspect of being a yandere. He would be outside your window watching you get dressed, snapping pictures to add to his collection, popping hidden cameras into your shower so he could watch you even when the windows don’t show you. He’d sneak in your slightly opened window at night and watch you sleep, gently petting your hair while telling you how much he loves you. You’d wake up with missing clothes from your laundry basket, chilled from the window being pulled open all the way when you could’ve sworn you only propped it open a little for a gentle gust of wind to come in, and a feeling of unease running through you. You would go about your day like usual, then come back home and wake up with the same feeling of unease as the last morning. This was routine for you, you’ve gotten used to the cold night air filling your room, having to run out and buy new pairs of panties because yours disappear nightly, and you don’t even question it when you find weird-looking black blocks behind an empty shampoo bottle in the shower. You’re too naive to understand what all these signs are pointing to, and, frankly, you’re too fed up with this lifetime to care.

✩ JUNGWOO ✩ tw. neighbor woo, too kind/too trusting reader, manipulation wc. 0.3k

Jungwoo is your adorable and friendly neighbor-type yandere. You met him when you moved into the house next to his, your last landlord throwing you out for not paying your rent on time. You convinced your parents to put the down payment on the house and you’ll take care of the mortgage. They agreed to it only to get you out of their hair, and boy are you glad they did, you would’ve been living on the streets if you couldn’t convince them to help you. Your first impression of him was that he was quite the innocent boy, you were extremely confused about how he was able to live on his own. Time passed while you were living there so quickly. You were working every day and every night just to make ends meet, but he always seemed to be at home, like he never worked a day in his life. You never said anything to him about it, no matter how often it was eating at your mind, because you were just too nice to pry into details about his life. That’s what he loved you most for, you were so kind and considerate, even though all your kindness was only causing you to suffer more and more in your day-to-day life. You’d hand out a hundred-dollar bill to a homeless man because he claimed he needed food while sitting right outside a cheap restaurant, you were just so sweet. Soon, your payments stopped coming to the bank, your letters never stayed in the mailbox long enough for the mailman to collect them. You were soon kicked from your new house because you “failed to pay the mortgage”. You knew you were paying so you had no idea what they were talking about. But his plan worked out marvelously because as soon as you were kicked out and offered a place to stay in your lovely neighbor’s house, it was very quickly accepted. You didn’t want to live on the streets after all, and surely your neighbor’s arms were far better than being homeless.

✩ XIAOJUN ✩ tw. superiority complex, xiao refuses to accept rejection, cursing, name calling (‘bitch’), humiliation, degradation, revenge sex, kidnapping, reader is tied up, recording, implied noncon, bruises, hickeys/love bites, scratches, blackmailing wc. 0.2k

Xiaojun is one cocky motherfucker with a huge superiority complex who refuses to accept rejection. So when you come right out and say that you’re not interested in him or his unattractive personality, it instantly turns his vision red. You have no right to call him unattractive, you bitch. He’ll make sure you pay for ever insulting him like that, he’ll teach you many lessons and when he’s done with you, he’ll hang you out to dry and he’ll embarrass you just like you embarrassed him in that moment. All your friends laughing at his flushed face, eyes filled with amusement as he hurries off into the bathroom, not wanting to stare at your disgusting face anymore. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to absolutely break you. Who the fuck do you think you are to treat him like that? Do you not understand what he’s capable of? Honestly, he didn’t even understand what he was capable of until he had you tied in his basement, cameras taped all around the room to record every angle just right, taking advantage of your vulnerable state in every way he could. You were weak and he expected you to know that by the time he was through with you. You’re nothing, how dare you talk to him like that? He’d break you, ruin you, then he’d make you walk into school the next day with bruises, bites, hickeys, scratches, shame all over you. And you wouldn’t say a word to anyone because, if you did, he would leak every video he recorded to every social media site and humiliate you even more.

✩ MARK ✩ tw. stalking, bully reader, slight bimbo reader, explicit depictions of murder, implied kidnapping wc. 0.3k

Mark knew he was way out of your league. He was weird and nowhere near your type. He saw your uncomfortable glances in his direction every time he would get a little too close, the laughs you and your friends would start up when he stuttered while speaking up in class, or the repulsed looks the new man you were all about that week would give him once you told him about how he’s your little obsessive stalker. He wouldn’t even be creepy about his love for you, he wouldn’t. He would keep his love on the down-low, trying not to draw too much attention to how often he scans your beautiful curves, watches you twirl your hair, puts too much focus into watching your hands caress the skin of your exposed thighs that are only that way due to your excessively short skirt. He knows your quirks, he knows everything about you because he actually pays attention. Everyone else ignores the real you, and he sees that. But, you don’t. You think it’s normal to hide yourself away from people and ignore the burning guilt inside you every time you do something cruel to another person. Him, however, he will always be that cruel person you so desperately try to be. Only, he’s quite the opposite of you because he hides it. But you’re both the same, you both hide your true selves because the world would eat people like the both of you up. He is the monster that sleeps under your bed at night, the thing you should be afraid of. He’s the one who grabbed that new man best friend out of his room in the middle of the night to hang from his staircase after writing a suicide note on his behalf, he’s the one who forced peanut butter down your sister’s throat even though she’s deathly allergic to peanuts, he’s the one that ran over your best friend’s head with her boyfriend’s car to frame him for the murder of his beloved girlfriend. You shouldn’t be running from yourself, he’s the one you should be running from. He’s the dangerous thing, he’s what you’re afraid of. But don’t worry, if you’re not scared now that you’re alone, you’ll be even more scared when you’re with him and promised that you’ll never be alone again!

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Mm would Yves enjoy taking baths with his darling or no? I’ve been thinking about this myself because I really am not sure myself, while it could be really romantic and intimate (without anything sexual happening) I also get the vibe that he’d be uncomfortable with undressing in-front of his darling or being naked probably because he just hates the feeling but also because of all of the scars that he may have and that might open up a whole other can of worms.

MM! Maybe that’s a part of the reason why he drugs the reader during sex, so they don’t notice certain parts of himself and just simply focuses on the pleasure 🤔 thoughts?

TW: Suicide mention, self harm, body mutilation

Yves doesn't like being naked to anyone. Not even you. He didn't like how his skin looked, but most horribly: wounds that changed into healed scars takes time, seeing them reminded him of his age which he despises.

It doesn't mean that you would never see him nude, though. At some point, you will "accidentally" walk in on him changing because Yves "forgot" to lock the door.

You will see a massive, hideous scar spanning over his chest and back. Of course, you would ask what it is. Yves would take this opportunity to educate you on the dangers of not protecting yourself against deadly UV radiation.

That is true, he was tormented by melanoma for many years due to his excessive tanning and recklessness regarding suncare. Bronze skin was all the rage back then, he was a young, dumb boy who wanted to follow the trends.

You rarely noticed the chaotic, wispy scars on his arms that were caused by whips. Deep scarring on his wrists and ankles from rusted metal chains. Cigarette burns, other cuts, iron branding, scars done in intricate shapes and wounds that are too violent, too manmade, too self inflicted to have been done by skin cancer.

It is no secret to you that his genitals were mutilated and the surrounding flesh is in similar conditions, they're perfectly functional, but anyone could tell that Yves has been through harrowing physical and mental trauma.

Yves's nagging lecture about how you should always wear sunscreen and avoid the rays would already drive you out of the room to question the other ones.

It's always a wonder how he keeps his face, hands and feet flawless. But once upon a time, he was just like anyone else, he had severe acne that would leave him in tears over how ugly he was and how painful the blistering could get. His assailants would ruin his beautiful countenance either due to jealousy or due to some other sick reasons. He had melanoma on his face, the aftermath was made up of tears and a plethora of failed suicide attempts.

Yves wasn't supposed to have his hands functional after how he would physically defend himself or fight with them. No one could count the number of times a blade has cleanly gone through from the front of his palm to the back. He was no stranger to the feeling of being burnt, he had his pinkie and ring finger fused together after being exposed to extreme heat. Yves survived a fire and an explosion in his lifetime.

His feet, goodness, his feet. He walked through broken glass regularly. It was bound together and flogged almost daily, he had nasty infections that cost him his toenails. For a while, he was limping due to how damaged it was. Yves was lucky that he managed to save them before he knew he had to amputate both.

But, they are all seemingly untouched. You wouldn't believe that these three parts of his body went through horrific situations, there isn't even a blemish!

Well, he valued his face, hands and feet more than any other part of his being. Yves placed his all into fixing them, countless reconstructive surgeries, drugs, diets and grafts, all thanks to thousands upon thousands of his innocent, unwilling victims. If it weren't for them "donating" their precious lives for research, transplants or otherwise, Yves would have been a gruesome sight to withhold.

He could eradicate the rest of his scarring if he wanted to. But he's a lot more mature now, anything can be covered by his tops, pants and dresses aren't worth the effort anymore. You and Yves think his smile is beautiful, his fingers feel nice massaging your scalp and he can walk without wincing in pain, that's enough for him.

But back to the main topic, Yves wouldn't take baths with you- He would gladly bathe you as your caregiver, he would be fully clothed as he scrubbed you from head to toe. You might find it strange that he would rather suffer from wet clothes than showing you what's under his turtleneck despite knowing how it looks already.

You can't just try and purposely intrude if you know he's changing clothes or taking a shower. Yves would scold you for being very rude for breaching his privacy, and he would drone on and on about the importance of consent for hours. Of course, he does this after he kicks you out of the room to get fully dressed.

If you want him to be present in the bathroom with you when you're showering, he will be there. Fully clothed. If you're insisting that he joins you, he will. Fully clothed.

When it comes to sex, yes, he drugs you to heighten the pleasure. And it was mentioned that a blanket must be draped over you and he at all times. But these also serve the purpose of blinding you towards the stories his skin could tell. Yves doesn't think you're ready to know, you're too emotionally immature. You couldn't handle the distress no matter how casually or carefully he would word it.

Yves had an entire lifetime to get over it, and he did, but you don't. And that is alright with him, you don't have to know. The past is in the past, Yves couldn't care less about what caused him to look so disgusting. He wants you to hold onto that priceless, priceless innocence and naivety as much as you can.

All he wants you to do now is to relax and have fun. Enjoy the climax and forget the insignificant world around you. To know that you are loved until the very end and beyond. He wants you to smile, to giggle and to take great delight in his tender, loving kisses.

That is what he wants to do as well.

[justvora]

MOON KNIGHT IS A HERO

HEROISM BEHIND A LEGACY OF VIOLENCE. A Moon Knight essay, pt1.

Origin.

Nothing pains me more than the segmented view of Moon Knight, which seems to be anchored to the stale perspective of the 2000s, an era that destroyed this character. It meant too much that stage, one where he hit rock bottom, where he was at the lowest point in his life. And those moments were intrinsic in him, they do not define him or determine his present, but they did mean a turning point to want to change, to want to be something else.

Marc Spector has always been a violent person, from his childhood (The Vengeance of Moon Knight, Shadowland: Moon Knight) where he exercised excessive violence against those who harassed his brother, to his adulthood, where he was a renowned underground boxer (Moon Knight Vol1: #37 ; Shadowland: Moon Knight), being this a stage where he felt rejected by the passivity of his own father, a rabbi. Marc never understood why he always kept his head down, why he was so extremely peaceful at levels that did him more harm than good. He was a rebel, a lost cause to his family, but someone who fought against anti-Semitic hate crimes no matter how alien he considered himself to this religion. After that, he ended up in the navy, from which he was expelled for disobedience, insubordination and assault on a superior, in addition for the strange behaviors that can be seen in the flashbacks that Khonshu distorted from his past, in Jeff Lemire's run (2016, Vol8: #12). After that he spent some time in the CIA which is extremely difficult to define given the ambiguity of his chronology. But it is clear that from that moment on he went off track to the point of ending up being something worse: an assassin, a mercenary.

In his mercenary days he did horrible things. He was never a good guy, death was nothing alien to him, so ending anyone's life was no problem… Until he met Marlene. He rebelled against Bushman and died, being left to his fate, crawling through the desert day and night until he ended up in front of a temple where, in the vicinity, Khonshu was. This was a new point, one which allows us to see different ramifications of the interpretation of both Moon Knight and the god who brought him back to life, Khonshu.

There are those who define him as an abusive god who took advantage of Spector's catatonic state to coerce him, leading him to make a deal whereby he became his vessel, leading him down a path of false heroism solely to quench the bloodlust of a god, an evil one, who recreates the idea of protecting people as an excuse to exercise violence.

On the other hand, there is the interpretation that I personally like the most. Redemption. Marc Spector went through a catharsis or metamorphosis that allowed him to change. He could not eradicate his bloodthirsty past, let alone clean it up, but at least he could give a new purpose to his person, and that would be to become a hero, one who would protect people.

“I became Moon Knight to end the darkness; and I never had to look beyond my heart”

He admitted, within his thoughts, in the trial that was made for his war crimes in bosqueverde, during the stage of the late 80s and early 90s where the infamous series of Marc Spector: Moon Knight is developed, one that has so many lights and shadows. I have to say that it is a good comic in its initial form, perhaps too corny and intense, throwing to “waste” certain ideas that had been established; but on the other hand the comic was fruit of its time and the bad writing of the 90s affected the rest of its issues from the middle, leading to the introduction of harmful ideas and concepts, but that hopefully remained in oblivion.

“Moon Knight is a critical pastiche of superheroes that somehow managed to exist in a Big 2 lineup. Marc Spector was not kind, or noble, or an upstanding citizen. He was a violent asshole who rejected God. Rejected his father. Killed people for money. Marc had pain in his heart and suppressed that pain with violence. He did not enter into a pact with some ambivalent greater power to protect humanity because it's the right thing to do. Marc was afraid of death, and contracted with an abusive, vindictive, petty God who cursed his own followers and declared the night time world his domain. A God who drove him to more violence not as an act of charity but of supernatural domination. Marc does not grow linearly as a superhero - his pact with Khonshu saves him from death and he begins to indulge his love of violence under the guise of heroism. In some ways these impulses grow worse - and ‘protecting the innocent’ turns into mutilating criminals and lashing out at the woman he loves. Marc does not narrowly survive danger. He dies. Again and again and again. Gruesomely, painfully, traumatically. He's crippled. He is not returned to service by an indomitable will or drive to do good, but a curse that will see him reduced to a mindless husk who only knows violence - something Marc has been training for his whole life. Marc does not wear the mask to hide his identity or protect his loved ones. He's a fractured, broken person who at this point in his story has accumulated a lifetime of failure and trauma, and constantly externalizes it, driving away the few people he loves. He wears the mask to run away from his past and play pretend that he's secretly a good man. Moon Knight should be in The Boys, or Invincible. His stories are critical of the violent, aggressively over-masculine anger that perpetuates in the medium. He's a critique of batman, daredevil, the punisher - any super hero who portrays themselves as some dark and tortured herald of justice. He is the result of some of the industry's best talents looking at the tropes of the genre and admitting ‘Anyone who acted like this in real life would be a friendless, unlovable asshole’ And he has an arc! He seeks to exist beyond the sins of his past! Marc desires to grow and abandon the violence he's cultivated within himself. To treat himself with kindness, to find forgiveness, and atone for the hurt he's caused.”

—explodyboompow, “What makes moon knight stand out from from other superheroes” : Reddit comment from that post (2023)

Marc Spector, as much as he is someone who dresses completely in white, is a gray person, someone who exists within the moral spectrum and is incapable of transcending it. He could be considered, during his darkest period, as the very opposite of copaganda (a term used to refer to police propaganda whereby comic book superheroes are blurred from their anti-police discourse to support strict measures within the law); he acted outside the law with sadism, punishing villains in horrible ways, even exercising excessive violence, although with the law of superhero registration and all the authoritarian control that was exercised he saw that he had to relax, at least to keep a low profile, because he did not want to finish tarnishing his image, being something that Black Spectre (Carson Knowles) took advantage of to dirty the way in which the knight himself was seen. Since he checked in, manipulating the man who interviewed him, coercing him and subjecting him to extortion that led to his suicide, he was considered a high danger even without his powers, mainly because of how dangerous he was as well as his own “mental instability”, so, as soon as the alarms went off, S.H.I.E.L.D went after him, and the competition was not far behind, Norman Osborn considered him a threat, so in the same way he sent the Thunderbolts to liquidate him.

That's why Moon Knight's story works. It speaks to society and the power that context has over society to torture people. Spector fell into the big pit, forgetting what he was, who he was, and the company he kept. He was selfish.

Part of the paradigm of his heroism is based on the fact that he kills. Evidently, he is not, as a person, the best human being you can find, that is something quite clear, but still… He does not seek to be a good person, but a specter of vengeance that takes the grief of others to avenge them for their pain. To a certain extent we could define Moon Knight as an opposite of Cassandra Cain: an antithesis to that way that the individual depersonalizes his human facet to serve justice and help others. Cassandra wanted to detach herself from what her father transformed her into: a killing machine. She believed that, if she was born that way, anyone else could change, as she was searching for so long for redemption that she forgot she was Cassandra to be Batgirl, because her world needed a heroine: And she became a martyr on a suicide mission, because if she died, she wanted to die a heroine. This is not so different from Moon Knight, although the roots of the paradigm are completely different.

The true meaning of Moon Knight in a past stage whose vestiges fall into a reformulated present that we can see, encapsulated, in Jason Aaron's recent writing in Spector's appearance during the last issues of Punisher, specifically, when the latter has been defeated and our hero comes to give him a brief speech, one by which he believes that he, despite everything, can change; but that unlike himself, he recognizes, inwardly, that he would not want to change, and that is where his perception of things lies: In believing that, if he after all has had more than one chance to prove to the world that he can be a better person, anyone else could do the same, and that is a thought that rests with Frank himself.

One thing that sets the current Moon Knight apart from any other character is that he recognizes the sin he lives with himself, but this doesn't mean he gives up striving to be better, quite the contrary, he always seeks to change himself to an era of light and hope. He wants to be a hero, a beacon of light for the people, and yet, he does not force himself to take on or absorb the cultural beliefs of what is right, he does not seek to cling to the idea of others, but to what he believes is right.

Moon Knight resignifies his will, his mission and the way he works. Crossing the line of life is something morally questionable, but he frivolizes it. He is not sadistic, he, contrary to popular belief, does not enjoy it. Contrary to the misbelief held about him, Spector is not looking for an excuse to exercise violence and let off steam, no. For him violence is just another tool, one he uses to attack evil, those who harm his travelers. It is the paradoxical irony of using more violence; he knows he will not be able to extinguish the flame of his past, and he believes that, much less, he can exempt himself from it; that is why his fight against evil is not as Marc Spector, but as Moon Knight: The system composed by his alters. All this does not take away that Moon Knight does not reach levels that are worrying, but what he does is to play with fear and the mistakes of his past, because in previous stages he fell so low that he began to act like a monster, destroying the criminals he faced in inhuman ways that could very well make him look worse than the Punisher. But it is just all those legends that he uses to evoke fear in criminals, something that is addressed in the recent volume of Vengeance of the Moon Knight where we are shown the paradigm difference between the new user of the lunar mantle and our hero under the words of Soldier, his loyal ally:

“Anyone can be a psycho. It’s easy. All you got to do is take a machete to a guy who rips off ATMs dressed up as pinocchio or whatever, and presto, you’re a grim avenger of the streets. But the Boss was better than that. Smarter. he kept them scared. He had his rep, from his bad old days, and he kept them in hand with that fear. He was their fixer, giving them their hit. But he was careful. Because fear’s like any other drug. If they get too much in their system, they get unpredictable. Get stupid, get sloppy, get out of hand. You want them too scared of you to act. Not so scared that they feel like they got to.”

Vengeance of Moon Knight Vol2, #3, 2024. Jed Mackay.

The paradigm here is in working correctly by playing on fear, following Batman's mechanics of instilling fear in people so that they don't want to act rather than so that they end up acting in an unpredictable way by having an overdose that makes them want to break through their own fear, though this is something I'd rather talk about later in more depth on 'Zodiac's theory and vision of the new Moon Knight'.

Re-reading his first comics I could not help but cry with joy when I read the incredible and beautiful writing of the character and the way they were able to define him better than ever, contradicting, ironically, the way in which in the future they will portray the character as an absolute savage, when he is nothing but the opposite of something like that. What's more, Moon Knight to some extent takes different ideas and concepts that have been developed with the Batman character but gives them a twist. For starters there is the cycle of violence with which he acts and which, to his surprise, does nothing more than fan a flame in a city that never sleeps or progresses, reaching a feedback whereby pouring violence against crime only fuels it more, making him see that people need more than revenge, finding, there, a mission greater than that of his god: Justice and, with it, hope. And, on the other hand, there is the issue of the use of the enemy's weapons: violence and fear. He takes everything, as well as 'murder', to frivolize it and change its dynamics, taking it to the paradox of intolerance: He will not tolerate that the rights and integrity of those he protects are violated, so those who cross the moral line must be punished… Although not all those who do evil are people with malice, but other people who, just because of the system, have been oppressed and pushed to the limit by their circumstances. There are those who have no choice -better- and can redeem themselves -Moon Knight believes in the redemption of others-.

“You know what’s out there. It’s a world in which the savages all too often rule our cities, our streets, our souls. The good citizens– the Grants, the Lockley’s– they fight that tyranny as best they can- They aren’t always enough. Moon Knight is more than a good man. He’s a force that transcends the brutality and the fear that are the savages’ main weapons– because he can use those weapons himself. He’s a savage on the side of the angels… A protector of innocents… A symbol of vengeance and hope. And, god willing… If he does his job well enough… he’ll be the last savage.”

Moon Knight Vol1, #35, 1980. Tony Isabella

“Those who forget their past are condemned to forget it”.

The mask not only serves to protect your identity, or to flee from your past, which also serves to become something else, something better. If yesterday's violence served to hurt, isn't it more poetic to use violence to protect? That is its mission. Not to harm, but to protect. He puts on the mask because no one else needs Marc Spector (MK Vol9 #4, 2021, Jed Mackay) and because he has caused enough damage, because people need the moon knight, and putting on that mantle serves to destroy himself, to punish himself and become a martyr. This is something we will also see in Doug Moench's stories where it is emphasized that Steven Grant came about as a way to leave Spector in the background. What Marc longs for most, after all - in his early 80s - is to die to escape hell, because he is someone weak, a man who has shielded all his horrors in a hard shell of toxic masculinity that has driven him to rot, desensitizing him when, inside, he is dying. But this hell is not, if not, a purgatory to exonerate himself from his sins (MK Vol1 #29, 1980, Doug Moench). And everything suddenly becomes, all of a sudden, a self-destructive missionary for what he hopes to be destroying himself and eliminating Spector.

To be continued...

[eldritch-spouse]

The Limbo

A long time ago, before chaos took hold of Earth and its realms, there was an annex called Limbo.

Soul management is only ever easy when dealing with small populations, as any siadar knows. The moment a project expands enough, becomes ambitious, the number of souls being juggled becomes taxing, a hindrance to more pressing matters. Someone else must take on that burden entirely.

Limbo was formed after Eden, as a response to this necessity. This annex specializes in the collection, treatment and subsequent transmission of souls back to the surface or other annexes. It's a recycling system, in simple terminology. Dorem is the entity created to orchestrate these matters.

Without him, the souls of those who die are lost to wander until they perish forever. Without his percision, the stubborn will defy their deaths and crawl their way to the living. Without his care, souls split and fuse and tangle, creating abominations.

Once a bright, hardworking spawn, Dorem was very proficient at his work. He was happy, felt productive and needed, many an angel would personally deliver souls to him, and the soul keeper's dwelling felt lived in. All was well. At some point, Dorem feels a tad overwhelmed with the amount of souls he juggles. But all is fine, his work is good, he's commended and appreciated by his own makers.

So focused on his duties, Limbo's operator doesn't notice a thing when siadar abruptly abandon all.

In fact, he's the last one to know...

Visits and feedback halt entirely, and without highers to take care of population control, Dorem begins drowning in souls. Part of him already knows what has happened, but he doesn't dare leave Limbo, because he's terrified of what he'll find out there. Terrified to confirm that he's truly alone, that his life no longer holds real meaning, he's working for nothing. Towards nothing.

Ages pass. Not even the angels seem to remember him, whatever those pests are up to now. Dorem has ceased to care about most of his work. He gets bored, allowing the turmoiled to rise from the dirt once more in violent, confusing cacophonies, mockeries of life indirectly born of his spite. And when it's all too much, he eats the excess souls. Tossing them into the black abyss of his torso to become part of him, crushed in his shadows.

An eternity spent in Limbo has ruined him. His body is not what it used to be at all. It's tainted, weathered, tired. So so tired. The flesh on his head keeps sealing over his mouth, not that he uses it that much anymore. He's grown powerful without even noticing it, the consumption of souls playing a part in his progressive transformations.

Dorem doesn't know why he decided to enter the surface now of all times. Maybe it's because he's reaching a breaking point, maybe to kill all the undead that keep trying to contact and worship him, maybe to fucking kill himself. Imagine his shock when he sees an angel. His fury. Which only burns hotter as he's told two highers are present on Earth.

It's about time he gets answers. It's about time he gets to punish them. It's about time Dorem can beg for mercy, or even that which has always been denied to him, rest.

[devieuls]

I've always been there for you. part.IV (end)

𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆 (𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒂) 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ¡𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕!

Warning : Smut 18+ MDNI; Childe Dom! ; unprotected and rude sex; dirty talk; threats; slaps; spit; bites; hickeys; punishments; blood; voyeurism; power play; teasing; choking, jealousy and possessiveness; pseudo-toxic relationship; violent foreplay; BDSM.

Reader with Cryo vision.

Synopsis : You are the only daughter of the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya, heir to the throne and general of the nation. The diamond of that place characterized by the eternal winter, loved by the people and adored for the angelic but fierce facade that you show. The only person with whom this mask fell is your secret lover, the one who manages to make you forget your duties with a touch and takes you to heaven whenever you end up in bed together. Your relationship was reserved for the bedroom, although you liked to tease him in public, as the 11th Harbinger was also your personal guard.

Everything was great and perfect... until one day your game was pushed too far, breaking the thin thread that gave you so much stability. Appearances were deceiving, and everything you thought you had under control suddenly hit you, dropping that house of cards you built for fun.

Length : 3.5k

Notes: In the story there will be some slightly violent or excessively harsh parts from the reader or Childe himself, read the warnings to better, understand what it is. It’s a mini series, I hope you like it.

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 END

You walked away from the girl and went towards Pantalone, having finally made a decision, perhaps difficult but the most just…

Once you arrived before the man you invited him to follow you to a more secluded point, far from prying eyes and ears, ending up in the same place where you and Childe were. You cleared your voice, remaining composed in place, taking a deep sigh before speaking. < I made my decision, I thought it would be more difficult than that but… there was no need to mull over it much > you started, looking into his eyes, seeing how his mischievous smile was born on his face, already victorious. < Please, Princess, enlighten me with your answer > the mocking tone, that of someone who already had the certainty of having everything in his hands, which irritated you to say the least. < No need to smile victorious. I’m your princess, you never had the power to blackmail me with such banal and vile means of someone who can only win the battle but not the war. > You said you started smiling as you saw her smile slowly fading. Your elegant and haughty posture < I am the crown, the greatest exponent of this kingdom immediately after the Tsaritsa. You swore allegiance to my mother and the crown, which means that by blackmailing and offending me, you do the same thing against this nation… does that make you a traitor? Didn’t you?> A laugh came out of you, advancing towards the man, pointing a finger at his chest. You said you had no problem losing everything, this is a game to you, isn’t it? I will soon ascend the throne and have the full power to make your life worthless, not that it can’t now make it hell… and you know why? > you approached his face, smiling a short distance from his lips. < because I have the power that you lack to threaten me. You may say what you know to the whole world, but nothing assures you that you will do it in time before you… die. > You moved slightly away from him, so you could applaud < You played your cards right, invite the Traveler, side by side with Childe knowing their background, tell her about me and him. But you haven’t calculated the fact that it’s because of her that I have a clearer idea now. You thought finding out what Childe had done with her would push me into your arms, but it’s not like that, I have to say she was right about one thing, because a powerful princess like me has to be blackmailed by her subordinate? >

The man’s face was darkened, finally that grin had disappeared and you had silenced him once and for all, because he knew you were totally right. < Don’t you smile anymore? You know I’m right. If I command you to bow down, you do; if I say I want your tongue on a silver platter, you cut it off and serve it to me; if I tell you to jump off this terrace and crash into the rocks below, you do it. Your whole life belongs to me as long as I want to have it, things you can’t do with me. That’s power. That’s holding someone. > You concluded, and then put the palm of your hand on his face. < That doesn’t mean I won’t forgive you. Your tone had returned calm and calm. Regrator made a bow to apologize, after all pride was one of his greatest sins, but they had taken him far away until now. < I thank you, princess. I will keep in mind your words and your kindness > he said holding his head down, not recomposing himself from the bow. Regrator > the man recomposed himself in hearing your voice. Your hand ended up on his chin, observing his face better. < Is it a real shame to see such a beautiful face enraptured with anger? Shame? You didn’t expect me to answer that, did you? I know you want to tell me a lot more than thanks, but don’t worry, you’ll be my whore horse once I reach my goal > You said to then approach you < don’t look at me like that, everyone plays the cards he has > your lips collided, and in that moment you could see her face relax. < The taste of victory is simply enchanting. >

You immediately broke away from the kiss and fixed your gloves before leaving him alone on the terrace and walking to the room where you had left everyone just before. You immediately noticed the blonde clinging to Ajax, intent on telling him something. You had noticed the man stiffening, his face darker than ever, and his eyes, usually of a blue sky, were now night blue. You met his gaze and froze on the spot, noticing how his eyes pointed shortly after behind you, tearing Regrator’s eyes off and it was there that you understood. The bitch had spoken. You swallow fearing for his possible reactions to the thing, feeling his heart accelerate in seeing him walk furiously towards the man with black hair. You instinctively got in his way, blocking his way so he wouldn’t get to the man, knowing it wouldn’t end well. < y/n, take off. > his low tone was devoid of emotion, avoiding your gaze. < No. I don’t know what that blonde bitch told you, but listen. > His hand landed on your shoulder, gently removing you, picking up that little sanity not to hurt you, even if it felt torn inside. < I told you to stop. > your voice had risen slightly, but you had to bring your hands to cover your mouth for surprise and shock. of what happened at that very moment. Childe didn’t hesitate for a second to punch him in the cheekbone, enough to draw blood. Within seconds, blood had flowed from the boy’s thigh, as Regrator had drawn a dagger to defend himself. It happened so fast that you had no voice in your throat, in fact your mother separated the two men, ordering several men to hold the red and remove it from the other man. < I do not know what was on your mind, but this will have consequences. Already two scandals in a single evening, insulting me, this castle and the guests. > Your mother’s voice made room between the two men. Childe was barely restrained by a dozen men, his shirt torn from cuts and stained with blood, while the wounds were evident under those light fabrics. Under the Tsaritsa’s command the men left Childe, who left the room still furious, followed by you.

< Childe… stop. please > you said following him at a safe distance, seeing as he did not stop or turn towards you. < Please, Ajax. talk to me… > < I have nothing to say to you. > His anxious and icy tone was crumbling echo in the empty corridor. < I do, let me explain. I have my reasons if- > you stopped because of the quick step of the man who immobilized you against the wall of the corridor, towering over you and watching you. < Your reasons? What the fuck makes you feel threatened and not tell me? > his jaw twitched and his gaze consumed your soul. He was worried, he could protect you, but you took away his chance. It hurt him to think I had to go through everything without him. < Ajax… I could have told you but I have already solved > you said sighing, not looking away from the man. < I don’t fucking care. If you get hurt, you tell me. If they disrespect you, you tell me. If they dare threaten you, you.tell.me. Whatever happens, you tell me everything. And I will smash anyone’s ass for you. > Childe paused to breathe deeply, seeing how your eyes looked at him with remorse. < And you had to kiss him to solve it, didn’t you? > he clenched his fist against the wall, hitting it later to release the anger, looking away from you. < I… > you were looking for the right words to understand how he knew about the kiss, too. You gave that kiss as a happy ending, knowing that by playing with his feelings, you could keep him on your side, so yeah, that was part of the plan to fix it, but you couldn’t tell him that. < …I can’t tell you. > You concluded by looking away from him. < You said there were no secrets between us… but it doesn’t seem that way. > The man walked away from you and passed a hand in his hair.

< I feel like you’re the one hiding things. If I’m not being honest, you’re a big liar. > you said clenching your fists, you could not, on the contrary, YOU SHOULD NOT have gone as the only culprit. His eyes collided with yours, completely confused. < You told me you’d never had sex with her. But apparently it’s not true. > You said harshly. < I was drunk, I was never myself and evidently the distance from you and stress made me more eager. It is not different from going with an escort in war. > < I asked you if you slept with her, and you said no. I didn’t fuck Regrator, but I guess I’ll have to make it up to you. > you said annoyed by her answer. < y/n, stop. You’ve done enough, don’t make me regret listening to the Tsaritsa. It doesn’t take me long to go back and kill him. > his tone continued to be cold.

You sighed deeply before approaching him again and placing your hands on his face, being promptly moved to the boy. You laid them on his cheeks again and forced him to look at you. < Ajax, I understand you’re offended that I didn’t tell you about his threat, but I should be the one offended. You fucked the woman who took you away from me, do you know how frustrating all this is for me? How long is it keeping me from killing her? just because we need it. > you said with clenched teeth. < I won’t let you walk away from me, knowing that you were wrong as I was.> The man sighed before he walked away from you and slightly away from him, he knew he was wrong but the image of you and Regrator kissing you made him damned. < Okay, you’re not gonna be okay with this? Then I’m gonna go hard. Kneel down. > You said coming back cold and composed, getting a confused look from the boy. < I won’t. > he replied.

In the distance you didn’t even hear footsteps coming, you were deaf to these unnecessary noises. < I said kneel down. I’m your princess, and I command you to do so. You will not disrespect me in this way > you said to see him kneeling, one of your hands fell on his jaw, tightening the grip and then bent towards him. His gaze burning on your skin in silence. < I’m tired of these games, our hiding when we both want each other. I hate the idea of you with that little girl, and I despise young women who are constantly hitting on you. You belong to me, Ajax. No matter who asks for my hand or who I kiss, I want you. Only you.> You just said looking him in the eye, still seeing how his eyes devoured you. < Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right. > You put your lips close to his < I belong to you. >

At those last words Childe’s gaze softened and you took the opportunity to kiss him. A sweet kiss, delicate but passionate, needy, as if you had never kissed before, overwhelming as few times. Your legs gave out and you found yourself on the floor with him, putting your hands in his hair while his arms wrapped around your waist. What interrupted that moment was the sudden chill in the room and a loud voice. < So that’s what you’re hiding from me, y/n. > You broke away from the man and turned to the voice, seeing the figure of your mother. You swallowed in silence, observing her in her composure, with some royal guards beside her. < Mother… > You whispered in disbelief, was this perhaps your biggest nightmare? because it was there. He saw you, too late to find a plausible excuse. < Not a word. I have no intention of receiving further humiliation, your behaviour today has been sufficiently embarrassing. We’ll discuss it in the morning. > her tone was hard and cold, sharp as a thousand blades against the soft skin; her look dark and devoid of emotions. and to think that once… she was recognized as the Archon of love. < Guards, take them to their rooms, I ask you to remain on guard at their doors. > she concluded before leaving.

Four guards separated to accompany you to your rooms, making sure to keep your distance, even if you spoke and understood each other with your eyes. Once you arrived in the room you sighed frustrated, sliding down the door, holding your hands in your hair a closed vote. For the first time, you could say you were afraid, afraid of losing everything you were fighting for, losing the man you loved… that you loved. You were becoming more and more convinced that you were having real feelings for Ajax, too bad it was a complicated, unattainable love. After a few minutes you rose from the ground, taking off your elegant jacket and being left alone with your thermal suit and the belt for the sheath of your sword, where the vision Cryo was also hanging; you rushed into the balcony of the room, intent on reaching from there the room of your beloved. Warm and strong hands took you from your hips and pulled you back. < Princess, it is not safe to get out of here > Ajax’s voice collided against the shell of your ear, making you shudder. < It’s not safe for you, walking on a ledge with those wounds. > You said turning against his chest, looking at him. < you’re not angry with me anymore? > you asked worried. < Are you with me?> He answered. < a little… but I don’t want to think about it > you responded by softening your gaze, and then sitting on the small bench nearby, making the boy sit at your side, looking better at his wounds and placing his hands on them. < I do not know if it will work fully, but my vision allows me to heal people with cooling from the inside… it will hurt a little > you said to activate your power gradually, going to stop the blood inside the wound, speeding up the cycling process. The man gnashed his teeth because of the pain, growling in silence, which worried you not a little, since he had a high level of endurance of physical pain, but how to blame him? After all, it was ice that was making its way under his skin. < If it hurts too much, we can stop here > you said stopping you esiante, opening his answer < Continue, I can bear it > he said gritting his teeth in pain, trying not to show it too much.

You nodded and continued to treat him, then you finished several minutes later and stroked the cuts on his skin. < You shouldn’t have hurt yourself like this… you’re full of scars now. < I’m a soldier, it’s normal that I have scars > he responded stroking your hair with extreme delicacy, approaching him. < Sometimes I wish you weren’t… it would be easier… > your voice had lowered and softened, while you looked him in the eyes almost enchanted < It would be easier if you were not the princess of this nation… with my title, I could have married you for a long time… but > took a break and swallowed sadly. < unfortunately it is not so…. > You instinctively took him by the face, blocking him in a passionate kiss; there were not many times when you allowed yourself sweet moments in addition to the fair sex, so you were enjoying the tender moment without too many second thoughts. You whispered against his lips once out of breath, keeping your eyes slightly down so you wouldn’t look him in the eye. < You never asked me… > His breathless voice let out a little bitterness. His hand fell under your chin and forced you to look him in the eye. And you shouldn’t have, I know it’s impossible. > he said to give you a smile, as if to hide that bitterness in him. < Ajax… I can betray the crown, but if I did, I would betray Snezhnaya and… Snezhnaya is very dear to me, I was born to rule one day > you said lowering your eyes again, you would do everything for him, even losing the crown if this meant having it. < I would never ask such a thing, I am not so dear to you to put me in comparison to an entire nation. > he said laughing bitterly, leaving your face. < Don’t say this… you are very dear to me, dearer than everything > you said with a broken voice, placing a hand on his cheek. < I waited for you for so many moons, praying the archons to protect you so that you could return to me… > your eyes went to meet the blue ocean of man. < Me too…. I also hoped to always return to you > he sighed, enjoying your sweet touch. < Even if tomorrow… you know, I probably… I’ll say that I forced you, I’ll take all the blame, if that’s what it takes to let you go free for the throne. I am ready to give my life for you and- > the boy stopped because of the pain in his cheek, which immediately became red thanks to the slap you had just given. < Don’t say it. I won’t let you do this! If you risk your life for a stupid title, I… I’ll abdicate. We can escape, hide in the nation of Archon Geo, Morax is a great friend of mine, he will make a contract to protect us… > your voice was exasperated, afraid at the thought of seeing Ajax dead because of you. < Y/N… Hiding? running away? contracts… I don’t ask you to sacrifice all this, I’ve always been ready to give my life for you. > The boy looked at you gently. < I don’t care. I won’t let you give your life for that. If you die… I would die of it, I can’t imagine my life without you. > You said as a tear pulled over your face. < You are the only thing I go on for… I love you > answered him, taking you by the wrist and pushing you against his chest, holding you tight

His words were sweet and warm as the sun, so warm and comfortable to leave burns on the skin and then frost. " I love you", how many nights dreaming of the moment he would tell you, imagining all kinds of scenarios, so why did it hurt so much? You loved him too, you knew you loved him, you were sure of it, and hearing his heart beating against your ear always convinced you more than that. Words died in your mouth and only cold tears came out of your eyes, followed by a sweet hiccups. Now it was all so real, he was real, his feelings… your feelings and the fact that you would lose him. Why did two simple words give you so much joy and at the same time so much bitterness? Maybe because you knew those words were a conviction. < I love you too…. > you whispered against his chest, letting yourself go in a river of bitter tears, because you knew that love would never see the light of the sun.use you knew those words were a condemnation

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

Since I haven’t posted in months, today I finished the series on Childe x the Princess of Snezhnaya. I really hope you like it, I know, the ending leaves with doubt, but the rest I leave to your personal interpretation.

-Mel

[blues824]

♡.•° To Dearest Blues824 :

Heya! My Brain Was Going Places And Was Thinking About The Dorm Head's With An Alastor (From Hazbin Hotel) Like Reader? :D

☆.•° - You Can Call Me Stardust Anon If Ya Want!

I see what you did there, Stardust Anon! 

Gender-neutral reader, supposed to be platonic since Alastor is aromantic, but can be interpreted as romantic. Cursing, 1920’s slang because I’m good at it.

Riddle Rosehearts

You were definitely very loud and boisterous, but he just chalked it up to your radio personality that was typically required of you. Aside from that, the two of you got along quite well with each other. You both used the same sort of formal language, but you did not know how to use a phone. You actually hated it a lot, and the Housewarden found it rather amusing.

One thing he found absolutely infuriating about you was how you thought the Queen’s Rules were absolutely laughable. However, since you were a demon, you were able to memorize each of them and went along with them out of pure boredom. But, when someone was disrespecting the rules, you wouldn’t hesitate to resort to violence. Riddle has had to tell you that the punishment for breaking a rule would simply be a collar rather than a black eye and a bruise about their neck, but you shrugged your shoulders with a smile and went on with your day like normal.

He could tell that you were from a different time period, since you often used slang that was popular in the 1920’s. Even in Twisted Wonderland, it existed. You once caught him while he was doing his makeup and you asked why he was getting ‘all dolled up’. The question caught him by surprise, as he had never heard any of his peers ask it like that before. 

Leona Kingscholar

He absolutely despised you. He thought you were too loud, and you often disrupted his naps along with the annoying hunter. Like, you were right next to him. You didn’t need to use your weird-ass microphone to project your voice to the cosmos. He may be sleeping, but he can hear you when you speak normally.

During his overblot, you were not afraid to use your power as a demon and as an Overlord of Hell to put an end to it within seconds. Actually, someone had to stop you so that you didn’t kill Leona. In the infirmary, you apologized and said that old habits die hard. His eyes widened when he asked about and processed what in the actual fuck you just said and you just laughed before leaving the room.

There was one time where you had invited him to walk to your classes with you, but he refused and said that he would much rather be sleeping. You told him to not be such a pill, and he was so confused. Bro looked it up, and was then offended that you called him boring in a 1920’s sort of way. Now he just calls you ‘gramps’ because you’re old.

Azul Ashengrotto

Also despised how loud you were, and thought that the microphone you carried with you was excessive. However, the first time he saw you quiet was when you told him that you were the one that did the deals around here and benefitted from them. Now he prefers your boisterous self more than your quiet self.

He has seen your secretly violent nature when Floyd snuck up behind you to try and squeeze you. A tendril came up from out of the ground and wrapped itself around the tweel’s neck, and it started to suffocate him. Azul was absolutely horrified as he screamed at you to stop, but you just had your big smile on your face. The only way he was able to tell that you weren’t happy was how you said, through gritted teeth, that you did not appreciate the eel’s actions.

One thing about you that always leaves the cecaelia confused was the slang you used. Like, you once compared the Mostro Lounge to a speakeasy, but instead of selling liquor he was selling dreams at the cost of a [most likely illegal] contract. He was about to say something about underage drinking when he remembered that you were a demon who has been alive since before the 30’s. That being said, you were of-age.

Kalim Al-Asim

It was Jamil who told him to stay away from you, but you just looked so friendly. Imagine him as a more ditzy version of Charlie, and Jamil as Vaggie. However, you had no plans to take advantage of him. He had nothing to take advantage of, or nothing that you wanted at least, as you were already the Housewarden of Ramshackle.

Your violent side came out when you saw that the Vice Housewarden of Scarabia was hypnotizing Kalim. You used your magic and held him by the throat (much like Darth Vader) and leaned in close. You made his vision go staticky and said that if he were to do something that you did not agree with, there would be heavy consequences to pay. It was fortunate that Kalim was not there to see your little threat.

The young Al-Asim was always awe-struck by the 1920’s terminology you often used. You told him that Jamil was such a wet blanket and Kalim had no idea what you just said. You explained that a wet blanket was someone who was a killjoy or a ‘party pooper’, to make it a bit more modern for him to understand.

Vil Schoenheit

He could tell that your happy and friendly persona was really a mask. After all, it takes an actor to know an actor. However, you seemed to have even Rook fooled, so he had to give you kudos for your act. He didn’t tip anyone off either, but it’s not like you would have minded being known as the most powerful being within Twisted Wonderland.

You showed your relentless and more sadistic side when Vil made a rather passive-aggressive remark about the way you dressed. Sure, it was a bit older and on the more formal side, but that gave him no right. So you used a tendril from Hell to snatch him off the ground and emphasize your point and say that it was better than the pool of fabric he called an ‘outfit’. You also said that any snide statement about you again and it would result in his untimely death and arrival in Hell.

The only reason why he knew about your slang was the fact that he had to play the role of a mobster in the 1920’s before in a movie. He’s even translated for you when you said that his outfit to match you was swanky. He said something about how he wanted to put on the Ritz for the upcoming photoshoot, and Epel just stared at the two of you, confused as to what the fuck you were saying.

Idia Shroud

You reminded him of a character from a popular show, and you had the microphone, suit, and smile to match. Honestly, he reminded you of a certain god of the underworld, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. That aside, you both were the exact opposite of each other. You were really loud and extroverted, while he was really quiet and introverted. You often liked teasing him and making him flustered and just moving on like it was nothing, and it left him with a whirlwind of emotions.

The one time you showed your aggressive side was during the time where the Phantom Bride kidnapped him. The only one who could torment your dear friend was you, and not some dame dolled up to the Ritz who was already bumped off the Flivver. Now, you typically were one to make some snide remark, but you were past that. There was no reason to bump gums when none of the other Housewardens were helping Idia out of his rather strange predicament.

He was surprised when you had summoned a tentacled monster of some sort and you threatened to have the ‘little’ monster drag them to Hell for interfering with matters in the overworld. Eliza let out a shriek as she hid behind Puffy and Gramps, shaking out of fear upon recognition of your name. You were one of the Overlords of Hell, after all.

Malleus Draconia

You were rather amusing, at least according to the dragon prince. You were also much more powerful than him, a fact that only his retainers found absolutely horrifying. Instead, he was actually very interested in you. You dressed and talked in a much different way than he did, but it was very… snazzy?... as you once said.

The more demonic side that you had made its debut during each of the overblots, and every time someone had a problem that they wanted you to deal with. You made it a point to emphasize time and time again that you were a demon who would do charity work when you wanted to, not when someone asked. After all, you needed some form of entertainment, and this was not it. Malleus often offers to order his knights to stop people from harassing you, but you told him, in a grim and menacing way, that you would love to give them a painful reminder.

One time, as you both were going on a typical nightly walk, he asked if you could show him what your time period was like. So, you being you, broke into a jazzy musical number as you used your magic to bring him into a little scene from the 20’s. He was dressed in a similar suit as you, and you used your mic to sing a song about what exactly happened in the world and to you right up until your death. Honestly, he didn’t really care that you were a cannibal. As a member of the royal family within Briar Valley, nothing phases him anymore.

[drawingdroid]

Melting Point: Chapter I

A Sculptor Din Djarin x Art PhD Reader Series

Read Prologue

Chapter I: The Artist/Metallike

Summary: Your roommate drags you to an art opening and It'll turn out to be such an interesting night that will leave you dreaming of brown eyes.

Words: 1721

Warnings: This is a slow burn, you've been warned!; a lot of talking about Art and PhD life; Reader is not Grogu's nanny but this is very Grogucentric if that makes sense; And Reader is Din's employee too; Very grumpy and antisocial Mando; Grogu is human but the only thing described are his eyes; Reader appearance is left blank; Age gap of 10-15 years; Fluff fluff fluff

A/N: Hi! I'm sorry for taking forever to upload this after so much teasing! Everything was practically written until Chapter 4, but last month has been a disaster. Hopefully, I'll be able to be back at it now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy Reader and Din meeting with a very Pride and Prejudice vibe.

When you arrived, the place was cramped. Everyone fancied free drinks on a Friday night at Navarro’s downtown, but this was… excessive for an art opening. After the awful day you’d had, you didn’t feel like squeezing yourself between strangers. You were just about to say to your roommate that you had thought better about it when you saw the poster in the window display of the local.

The Guild Gallery presents:

Mando

The Master of Beskar

15 unprecedented sculptures

Your jaw dropped immediately to the floor. You were so excited you had to grab your roommate’s arm to calm down.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” 

“You just dragged me to an exhibition of my favourite artist ever without knowing?” You were over the moon right now, Mando wasn’t an artist who used social media so it was never easy to come up with his next show. It was all part of the mysterious aura that was around him.

“Rumors say he is based in Nevarro.” One of your roommate’s friends severed, and your eyes sparkled in awestruck.

“Do you think he may come?” You were dying to ask him some questions, maybe even you could arrange an interview with him for your thesis work…

“He never shows up in his own exhibits, so I don’t think he will.” You were a bit disappointed, but it was the truth. No one knew his real name or face, only the generic pseudonym, and his breathtaking sculptures.

“Do you think he makes it in an entitled prick way? Like, to feed the mystery or something and sell more?” You looked at the boy furiously. You obviously didn’t know Mando personally, but you had extensively studied his artwork and could affirm you knew a bit about the psyche that hid behind his artwork.

“What if he’s just shy, or he doesn’t like the attention?” Your mental picture of Mando was the one of a person who struggled severely with emotion and used his sculpture as the only possible outcome. That was one of the reasons why his art moved you so deeply.

Your interlocutor didn’t have the opportunity to respond since it was your turn to enter the gallery. It was luxurious but not tacky, with a minimal interior design that gave the artwork the space to shine. You were mesmerized. Soon you grew apart from the group because they were more interested in the free booze while you admired each one of the pieces. Grabbing your tiny notebook from your purse, you annotated everything about the sculptures that resonated de most with you.

“Breathtaking, aren’t they?” A well-dressed, middle-aged man was standing next to you. He had an air of dignity in him, but also a pinch of mischief in his eyes that delatated his true character. 

“They’re stunning.” You mumbled admiring the hard planes of the sculpture that was standing right in front of you. The same you had been observing for twenty minutes straight: a faceless warrior in a startling fighting pose.

“Mando always finds a way to surprise us.” Then, he extended his hand to you and you squeezed it gently. “Greef Karga, I’m the owner.” He clarified while shaking vigorously your smaller hand. You blushed violently, maybe he had mistaken your interest for being a potential customer? Nevertheless, you offered him a smile and your name too, always wanting to be polite.

“I’m actually a researcher on Mandalorian art, and I’ve been following Mando’s career for a while.” 

“You’re talking to the man who sold his first artwork, sunshine.” He confessed as if he was telling you a secret. The desired effect was accomplished and your eyes were opened wide.

“Really? That’s…that’s…” Your words were betraying you and the man only smiled wider. Then you started a battle with your purse to find the wallet. “I…know he does like to keep his…privacy, but if he is ever interested in an interview I’ll…it will be really meaningful to my research.” You blurted giving him your business card. He observed it and repeated your name to himself.

“I’ll let him know darling.” He then put a friendly hand on your shoulder as a farewell when something heavy touched your foot, making you flinch. You looked to the floor: a metal ball had hit your foot. Looking confused at your surroundings, you crouched to grab the round object when its owner appeared.

“Oh hi, baby!” You cooed, your face brightening when your eyes found the tiny face of a toddler. “Is this yours?” They approached you a bit shyly, looking at you and the ball, as if weighing their options. The baby stared at you, blinking a few times, until they bent clumsily to grab it.

“Patu!” The little one said showing triumphantly the shiny object. The corner of your eyes squinted of the pure tenderness this creature provoked in you.

“Grogu, my little man!” Karaga called, to your surprise. You had to admit: you had forgotten about him for a little moment, but it was great that they knew each other. The toddler squeaked in delight, running to the man’s leg. He certainly looked amused with the encounter, so they were probably close-

“Ah!” The boy babbled cheerfully to you both, showing off his treasure again, and then started patting Karga’s leg.

“Your dad hasn’t got you dinner? Come here, let me grab you a sandwich.” The toddler sounded excited and made grabby hands to the older man to be picked up. Your eyes met with his as he observed you with curiosity. They were dark and huge, almost too big for the kid’s face. You gave him your brightest smile and he did the same in return.

“He looks sharp as a tack!” You praised, giggling a bit.

“You wouldn’t imagine.” 

Both of you laughed together as Grogu started to explain something in incoherent baby language.

“Oh, so you are enjoying the Art Exhibition too? What’s your favourite piece? I see…” You pretended to understand his excited gestures as Karga started to walk to the catering table. “It’s clear you’re such a connoisseur, sir.”

“Could you hold him a moment? I’m making him a sandwich.” Karga’s question took you off-guard, but he didn’t wait for an answer as he placed the toddler in your chest Both of you studied each other's eyes for a moment. You could count the times you had held a little one with the fingers of a hand. But finally, he looked satisfied after scanning your face and squeaked happily, starting playing with your hair and jewellery, even mapping your cheeks and nose with his tiny hands. A warm feeling ignited inside your chest as you replied sweet nothings to his babbling.

“Grogu! Here you are!”

The three of you looked in the direction of the baritone voice who had just called the baby. Between the multitude, appeared a man who stood up amongst everyone. Though he was dressing casually, in full denim, his handsome face and broadness were so obvious. Your mouth went dry. Not only his physical appearance but his gait and the way he carried himself. You weren’t used to meeting men like that. He was borderline intimidating. His scowl while looking at the baby didn’t help with that. Was he angry that a stranger held the boy?

“Din! Good to see you, I thought your son would be hungry.” The gorgeous man huffed in response, looking at the sandwich Greef Karga had just prepared.

“The little womp-rat is always hungry,” he mumbled and started caressing the boy’s head, and the baby giggled. “I asked you to stay there.” He scolded, but the toddler just looked happy to see him again. Din sighed in resignation and finally, it looked like he noticed your presence for the first time. While you still had Grogu between your arms, he stared at you without a word, like you were a sculpture and not a person. You observed him back without shame and he tilted his head slightly while studying you. He looked stiff as a board and didn’t stop frowning all the time.

Weird.

Luckily, Karga spoke after the strange silence between you became too tense.

“Din, this is…” Karga started introducing you after clearing his throat,  but then the little boy interrupted by babbling at you while offering you his ball.

“You want to play baby?” You asked, but you could see his handsome dad pinch his nose. It wasn’t the moment to annoy this stranger who didn’t seem to like you. “Later, ok? First, be a good boy and have dinner.” Your soft voice reminded him of the prospect of food, and now he was twisting in your arms. You let go of him and the toddler ran immediately to grab Din’s calf. The man looked exhausted and 100% like he didn’t want to be there. But when he put the little one between his strong arms his face lightened up in a way that made your heart skip a beat. Without a word, he left towards the catering table. Before getting lost between the multitude, Grogu’s head popped behind Din’s toned shoulder and he waved at you. You needed a moment to recover, having melted like ice cream from the cuteness of the gesture.

What a pair.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, Din can be a little rude sometimes.” You shook your head dismissively in response when Karga excused his friend, even though a little rude was a polite way to say it.

“Don’t worry sir, the baby was so adorable I didn’t notice.” You then offered your best smile before departing. “I leave you to attend the other visitors, it’s been a pleasure.”

Later in your shared dorm, you’d think a lot about the pair you had met. Such a friendly toddler and his dad? He was so attractive and manly you felt dizzy, but he had been so rude to you. What was the problem with him? He looked like he instantly disliked you. Maybe it was your cologne? Was it your outfit? Turning in your narrow mattress, you said to yourself you had more pressing matters to attend to, like how the hell you were going to pay for the semester after your scholarship had been denied. You sighed and closed your eyes, and you dreamt with broad shoulders and bright huge eyes.

Next Chapter

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