#And under the circumstances they did them

[queenshelby]

Just a Dream

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Reader

Part 25: A House by the Sea

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE. IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME.

Despite everything—the weight of it all, the lingering fear, the impossible truths—you fell asleep faster than you had in days. Not because the worry had vanished. Not because you weren’t still trembling at the thought of what was inside you. But because you wanted to see him.

You needed to see him.

The dream-stone pressed to your palm was warm—too warm, almost pulsing. You curled around it in bed and whispered his name into the dark.

The moment your eyes closed, the portal opened like it had been waiting just for you.

You stepped into the Dreaming.

And blinked.

Because something was… off.

Not wrong, exactly. Just different.

The sky was too soft, the air too thick with magic. There was music in the wind—gentle harp notes, far-off humming. Something glimmered in the trees. You turned in a slow circle, trying to get your bearings, but the palace was not where it should be.

Or rather—it was, but parts of it had changed.

The architecture had… softened. What had once been spires of cold obsidian were now veined with silver light. The stones beneath your feet had moss creeping between them—soft moss. The kind that would feel good under bare toes.

In the distance, you heard a faint clang. And then a shout.

“Watch it! Furniture incoming!”

You turned—and caught a glimpse of Merv, storming across the corridor with a toolbox in one hand, following what looked like a change table.

He grumbled as he passed you. “This is your fault, y’know.”

“…Sorry?”

“Whole damn realm's going bonkers.” He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, then stomped away muttering something about ‘sentient strollers’ and ‘nap zones with spatial integrity.’

You watched him vanish around a pillar.

“…What the hell is happening.”

You wandered deeper into the palace, your sandals echoing softly against the now-lavender-tiled halls. You turned left, then right, until you found yourself standing outside the grand doors of the Library.

And that’s when things went from strange to absurd.

Lucienne stood at a massive desk, furiously cataloguing what appeared to be… children’s books. Stacks of them. Golden spines and talking animal covers and one rather concerning title called When Your Stuffed Bear Sees the Abyss.

Nearby, Matthew was perched on a pile of toys. Actual toys. A toy chest had exploded into a technicolor mess across the floor. There were blocks, balls, and one stuffed squid that looked way too realistic.

“Nope,” he muttered, flinging it off the pile. “Nope. Definitely nope. That’s a cursed item if I’ve ever seen one. Oh! Fluffy raven—most definitely.”

“Matthew?”

He squawked and nearly fell backward into a bin of plush giraffes. Lucienne jumped, knocking over a copy of Goodnight Realm.

“My lady!” she exclaimed.

You stared. “Did you just call me my lady?”

Lucienne cleared her throat and straightened. “Presumptuous, perhaps. But given the circumstances…”

“What circumstances?”

A long pause.

“You are… with child,” she said carefully. “Lord Morpheus’s child.”

You blinked.

“So I take it everyone knows?”

“Yes,” she said gently.

“He announced it at a staff meeting,” Matthew added brightly.

“A staff meeting?”

Lucienne nodded. “We are, as you can see, undergoing a period of… adaptation. Everyone in the palace is engaged. The Dreaming must be baby-proofed.”

You stared around the room at the glowing storybooks, the floating crayons, the plush throne that now sat beside Lucienne’s desk.

“…I can see that.”

“Lord Morpheus is in the nursery,” she said after a moment.

You stopped. “The nursery?”

“East wing. Just past your new quarters.”

“…Our quarters?”

Lucienne only smiled.

You didn’t ask anything else. You just went.

The hallway looked completely unfamiliar. The color palette had shifted—softer tones, pale blue and warm gold, like the Dreaming had dipped itself in moonlight and daybreak. There were no sharp corners. No jagged dream-rifts. The walls had been rounded and the windows draped with soft gauze that shimmered like stardust.

You turned a corner—and stopped.

The door was cracked open.

You stepped in.

And then…

Your heart stopped.

The room was glowing. Not with lamplight, not with magic. With stars.

A mobile spun slowly from the ceiling, not made of plastic but constellations. Real constellations, suspended in gravity-defying orbits, casting gentle pulses of silver across the walls. A crib stood in the center—carved from pale dream-wood, etched with runes you didn’t recognize. It looked like something unearthed from the beginning of time.

There was a giant plush giraffe. Some kind of floating feathered dragon drifting lazily in the upper corner. The smell of something ancient and comforting—sandalwood, parchment, lightning after rain.

And there he was.

Barefoot.

Wearing black jeans and a black jumper.

His sleeves were rolled, his hair a mess of stardust, a streak of silver dusting his temple like spilled moonlight.

Dream stood over the crib, gently adjusting something. Murmuring. You couldn’t hear the words.

He turned when he sensed you.

“My love,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“I am… working on the nursery. I remain uncertain about the colour pattern. I tried silver and midnight, but it felt too solemn. Now I’m debating whether warm hues might foster optimism.”

You stared at him. At the nursery. At everything.

“The palace looks… different.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “We must adapt.”

He showed you around—the enchanted glow-stones meant to keep nightmares away, the shifting ceiling that would mirror whatever the baby dreamed. The floor beneath your feet seemed to ripple like soft waves with each step.

It was breathtaking. And completely insane.

Then came a grunt from the hallway.

“Boss. We got a problem.”

Dream didn’t look surprised. “What kind of problem?”

Merv entered with a clipboard and a scowl. “The kind with claws and egos. Two nightmares are refusing to relocate. Say they’ve been haunting the west corridor since the Black Plague and won’t get booted just ’cause we’re going baby boutique.”

“…You’re relocating nightmares?”

Dream nodded. “Yes.”

“Like—entire entities? You’re evicting them?”

“Reassigning,” he said smoothly. “This wing must be sanctified. No residual horror. No accidental possession.”

“Accidental—?”

Merv snorted. “One of ’em said—and I quote—‘I’ve haunted this hallway longer than she’s been alive.”

“She,” you repeated dryly.

“I didn’t argue. But Lord Morpheus here sent the command last night—no-nightmare zone. Most of ’em respected it. But those two? Clawing at the walls. I offered the old mirror hall. Nice and gloomy. Still not good enough.”

“If they do not comply willingly,” Dream said, “I will remove them myself.”

“That might escalate.”

“They will not escalate against me.”

Even the mobile shivered.

You stared at him. “You’re clearing out part of your realm… for the baby?”

He turned back to you.

“Yes. Our child’s safety must be absolute.”

You couldn’t breathe.

This was Dream of the Endless, reassigning ancient nightmares. Tinkering with crib placements and starlight mobiles.

All for you.

All for the baby.

“…Do they get severance packages?” you asked faintly, blinking at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Dream did not hesitate. “Some have accepted appointments within the fear-theatre,” he said, as if reading a sacred scroll rather than describing nightmare job transitions. “Others have chosen to descend into the deeper layers of the subconscious. One requested a fog-lake—its mists laced with ambient existential dread and the gentle scent of forgotten sorrow.”

He glanced toward the softly glowing mobile of galaxies overhead, then added, without a flicker of irony, “I obliged. I have been generous.”

“Some of ’em even tried to unionize,” Merv muttered as he wandered past, shaking his head, toolbox under one arm and a pacifier inexplicably in the other. “We’re negotiating parental leave.”

You made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a giggle—then full laughter broke loose from your chest before you could contain it. You leaned against the curved edge of the ancient crib, breathless and overwhelmed.

The cradle shimmered gently beneath your palm—woven of dream-wood, carved with symbols you didn’t recognize but somehow felt. The kind of symbols that whispered lullabies older than language.

Dream turned to you, dark brows drawn together in faint concern, though his voice remained soft. “You are amused?”

You nodded, eyes still damp with laughter, and looked up at him—barefoot and dusted with starlight, sleeves rolled, his expression both regal and slightly perplexed. “It’s not just funny, it’s surreal. Nightmare relocation. fear-theatre reassignment. A fog-lake ambiance of existential dread?” You reached for him, touched his arm, voice quieter now. “And yet… you’re doing all of this. For our baby.”

His gaze did not waver. “For you,” he said simply. “For the child we created. This realm is mine to shape. It must become what is needed.”

You stared up at him, the cradle glowing beside you, the stars slowly spinning overhead, and felt your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Dream took your hand with care, his touch feather-light yet anchoring—as though your palm were a relic, something divine. He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles—slow, reverent, filled with meaning.

Then, almost hesitant: “Is it too much?”

You looked around at the room again—at the soft golden sconces casting dancing lights across the wall, the plush giraffe beside a woven basket of dream-dust blankets, the gentle shimmer in the air like the beginning of dawn.

“Yes,” you said.

Dream tensed slightly, withdrawing half a breath.

But you smiled. “Too much in the most beautiful, you kind of way.” You reached up to brush your fingers through his hair, dislodging a tiny sparkle of silver that floated toward the crib like a falling star. “And I love you for it.”

You kissed him.

This time, the kiss was not desperate or stunned or tangled with grief—it was soft and slow and full. A kiss that belonged inside a moment like this. One hand against his chest, the other resting gently over your stomach, feeling his hand settle there too—large and steady and somehow already protective.

He kissed you like he was promising something he didn’t have words for yet.

A quiet cough broke the stillness.

“Ahem.” Merv again. “Sorry to interrupt the royal smooching, but still kinda waiting on official orders here, Boss. What do I tell the clawed ones?”

Dream did not turn. His voice lowered into that ancient timbre that could bend a room, gentle yet absolute. “Inform them the east wing is no longer theirs to haunt. This space is now sacred. They may take up residence in the mirror hall or be escorted there by my hand. There will be no compromise.”

“…Right then,” Merv muttered, already backing out. “I’ll pass that on. Mirror hall it is.”

You exhaled slowly as the silence returned, your head resting briefly against Dream’s shoulder. The warmth in the room was unreal—dreamlike in the truest sense. Everything smelled of star-anise and jasmine and a breeze you could swear had once kissed the edge of the cosmos.

“I heard a rumour,” you said lightly, trailing your fingers along the edge of the carved crib. “That you’ve been redoing the private bedchambers, too.”

“I have,” Dream replied softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to ask for a tour?”

He paused.

Then: “You wish to see our bedroom?”

You blinked.

“Our?”

His eyes were steady, unreadable except for the hint of something vast beneath the surface.

His eyes were steady, unreadable except for the hint of something vast beneath the surface—like a tide pulling back before revealing something ancient beneath the waves.

“Yes,” he said at last, his voice a murmur made of shadow and starlight. “Our bedroom.”

The word settled in your chest like gravity.

You stared at him, caught somewhere between surprise and something deeper—something warmer. “You never called it that before.”

“I never had reason to,” he said. “Until now.”

This was a sanctuary.

The room beyond was vast, yes—but not cold. Not remote. The ceiling stretched high above, but instead of darkness or shadow, it was painted with a twilight sky in constant, gentle motion. Stars blinked softly overhead. A full moon drifted slowly across, never setting. The light it cast was silver, but warm—somehow.

The bed dominated the center of the room—enormous, draped in pale fabrics, folds of linen and velvet in deep sapphire and soft pearl. The mattress looked impossibly plush, the kind you could sink into and never find the bottom. Dozens of pillows spilled across it like clouds.

The walls were lined with curved shelves—not of ancient tomes, but of storybooks and sketchpads, trinkets and keepsakes. Some shelves were already empty, waiting.

A fireplace, crackling low and golden, was tucked into a corner, surrounded by a nest of cushions and throws in mismatched but comforting patterns. A daybed curved beneath a massive window that looked out into an impossible sky, where comets glided past distant nebulae. Beside the bed, there was a cradle—smaller than the one in the nursery, quieter. It hadn’t been there long. Its edges still shimmered faintly with new magic.

The entire space felt… held. As though it had been shaped not for power, but for closeness. Not just a place to sleep—but a place to be.

You turned in a slow circle, your fingers brushing the edge of the new cradle, your eyes drifting over the blankets, the cushions, the ever-shifting stars that danced outside the window like sentinels of the infinite.

Your throat tightened. “This isn’t what I expected.”

There was a beat of silence behind you, then his voice—low, careful. “Do you not like it?”

You turned to face him at once, frowning slightly. “No. To the contrary, Morpheus. I love it.” You took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s perfect.”

His expression shifted subtly. The faintest flicker of something rare and vulnerable moved behind his eyes.

You stepped closer, your hand skimming across the impossibly plush bedding. “But I have to admit,” you said, voice lightening, “I’m curious how this bed compares to the other one.”

He stilled, watching you.

You raised a brow. “The bed we shared here. Until now. When I visited.”

A beat of silence.

Then—his voice, low and calm as starlight: “I see.”

He stepped forward, slowly, deliberately—as if gravity itself turned to watch.

“Then perhaps,” he said, “it is time for a comparison.”

But just as your breath caught, he paused. “There is something else I must do first.”

“Something important?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“It can’t wait?”

“No,” he said, and a glimmer of something almost mischievous touched his tone. “Because I have already made arrangements to take you out. On a date.”

You blinked. “You didn’t look like you were expecting me.”

“I wasn’t. I intended to come to your realm tonight.”

“…It’s not Thursday.”

“I am aware,” he said, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Nevertheless, I planned to visit just before midnight.”

“You organised a date. At midnight.”

“Yes.”

You raised a hand, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You know—even though you don’t sleep—I do.”

He tilted his head. “Perhaps. But I believe this will be worth staying up for.”

You sighed. “You’re lucky you’re charming.”

“I am not lucky,” he said simply. “I am purposeful.”

You laughed softly as he stepped away.

“Now,” he said, folding his hands in front of him, “if it pleases you, I will change… and then take you back to the Waking World.”

Before you could respond, he turned—and the air shimmered faintly around him.

There was no flash of light, no dramatic swirl of magic. Just the faintest ripple through the fabric of the Dreaming, like a breath held and released.

And then he was dressed differently.

Still black, of course. Always black. But it wasn’t his usual high-collared, regal attire or the endless folds of his shadow-born cloak. No, this was something closer to human—something that looked almost simple.

A long black wool coat, the lapels tailored sharp and clean. A dark shirt beneath it—fitted, collar slightly open at the throat, exposing a hint of pale skin you’d only ever seen when he was vulnerable. Black trousers, pressed perfectly. Polished boots that gave him height he didn’t need.

Everything still bore the sheen of Dream, of course—he couldn’t quite help it. The coat shimmered faintly at the hem, as if shadows didn’t dare cling to it. The buttons looked like they had been forged from moonlight, and his eyes—no matter what he wore—remained ancient and vast and unbearably steady.

But there was something… softer about him now. Not less powerful. Just closer. Like he had peeled back a layer of divinity and stood before you not as the Lord of Dreams—but the man behind the stars.

He extended his hand toward you.

You took it, slowly, your fingers sliding into his. His hand was warm.

He leaned forward slightly, just enough for his voice to drop to a near-whisper. “Shall we go, my love?”

“Yes,” you responded simply and, with a single step, the Dreaming shifted behind your eyelids—and the Waking World opened its arms before you.

***

The moment you stepped through the veil of the Dreaming, the world shifted.

The stars didn’t blink out as they usually did when you woke. They followed you—lingering like an echo—until your feet touched smooth wooden floors and the scent of real air—earthy, cool, sweet with night—hit your lungs.

You blinked.

You weren’t in your apartment.

You weren’t anywhere you recognized.

It was quiet. Not dream-quiet, but real quiet—muffled by walls and distance, not magic. The lights were dim, warm, flickering gently from sconces on pale plaster walls. A soft rug cushioned your steps. The ceilings arched with exposed beams, and the windows—tall, wide, open—framed a black velvet sky dense with stars.

You turned slowly.

It was a house. A real one.

Not massive. Not sprawling. But perfect. By the sea.

You turned toward him, stunned. “This isn’t my apartment.”

“No,” he said, letting the door fall shut behind you.

“…Where are we?”

“Our home,” he answered softly.

You blinked again, heart stuttering. “I don’t get it.”

“I understand,” Dream said, stepping closer, “that your desire is for our child to grow up in both realms. And I agree. This world is part of you. You should not have to choose.”

He gestured toward the space around you—living room, kitchen, the hallway beyond that hinted at more. “So, we will have homes in the Waking World as well as in the Dreaming.”

You swallowed. “But… this house—this place…”

“I acquired it,” he said simply. “For us.”

You turned to him fully now, still trying to understand. “Acquired it how, exactly?”

Dream tilted his head slightly, as if considering how much of the truth to give.

You raised a hand, stopping him. “You know what? Don’t even tell me.”

A pause. Then, with a slight incline of his head: “As you wish.”

And just like that, he let it go.

No riddles. No grand explanation. Just quiet agreement, as if your comfort mattered more than his answer.

You stood there a moment longer, looking around the soft-lit space. The stillness. The sea-salted air. The windows open to the stars. It was surreal. Too much almost.

And then—his hand in yours again, warm and sure.

“Come,” he said gently. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

And he led you toward the door that opened into the waiting night.

He didn’t say where he was taking you.

He simply laced his fingers with yours—his hand warm, grounding—and led you down the quiet hallway, past candlelit sconces and weathered picture frames you didn’t yet recognize. Past the still hush of a room you were certain would one day be the nursery. Past a low window cracked open to let in the sea breeze.

And then, through the back door.

The night opened up around you like a held breath released.

The yard sloped gently down toward the dunes, the grass long and pale in the moonlight. Wildflowers bloomed in quiet bursts along the path—soft blue, pale yellow, tiny white stars of blossom. The ocean stretched beyond, vast and silver, its surface dappled with moonlight. Waves murmured against the shore in a rhythm older than language. The sky above was impossibly clear.

And full.

Full of stars.

Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Too many for any Waking World sky to hold.

The constellations shimmered bright and sharp, like someone had polished the heavens just for you. Orion’s belt burned golden. A comet flared near the horizon. There was a spiral galaxy—an actual spiral galaxy—hovering just above the waterline like a crown of light.

You gasped. “What… what is this?”

Dream glanced skyward, hands folded loosely behind his back. “The night sky,” he said evenly.

You gave him a look. “It doesn’t look like the night sky.”

“It is,” he said. “Technically.”

You turned back to the stars. “It’s so clear. So perfect. It feels like I can see every star in the universe, from right here….”

Beside you, he didn’t move. “Mm.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Dream…”

He tilted his head slightly, not quite looking at you. “I may have made some… arrangements.”

Your lips parted. “Arrangements?”

“I adjusted the atmospheric interference,” he said, as if he were explaining a minor schedule change. “And… expanded the visible field of celestial objects. To the best of my ability at least.”

You stared at him.

He looked entirely unbothered.

You weren’t sure what impressed you more—the stars, or the fact that he had made a picnic. A human one.

You glanced down at the spread: soft grey blanket nestled between lanterns casting golden light, a basket filled with what looked like actual food—fresh bread, fruit, cheese, real pastries, even a thermos. There were porcelain cups, napkins, cutlery wrapped in linen, and a bottle of sparkling water that shimmered faintly like it remembered starlight.

“So,” you said slowly, still trying to process, “you tuned the entire sky for a picnic?”

Dream finally looked at you, and for a breathless moment, you saw it—the faintest upward pull at the corner of his lips. A smile. Small. Sincere.

“Yes,” he said. “This moment had to be perfect.”

“I don’t know what to say, Dream.” You exhaled, shaking your head softly. “You really did all this?”

He inclined his head. “I had help. With the picnic. And the food.”

You raised an eyebrow. “From…?”

“A human friend,” he said. “He has done this kind of thing several times over in the past six centuries.”

You blinked. “He’s six hundred years old?”

“Yes.”

“And human?”

“Yes. My sister granted him eternity.”

You stared at him. “Why would someone want that?”

He turned toward you, steady. “Would you not? If you could?”

You hesitated. The ocean hummed in the background, the tide breathing in and out beneath the impossible sky. The stars above shimmered so clearly they almost didn’t seem real—like you could reach up and pluck one loose between your fingers.

And yet, your voice was quiet when it came. Certain.

“No,” you said softly. “I wouldn’t.”

Dream’s eyes, starlit and still, lingered on your face.

You turned away slightly, not to retreat—but to look out at the water, at the way the moonlight danced across it like silver thread. The breeze tugged gently at your clothes.

“I’ve learned,” you continued, “that eternity comes with far more heartaches than a mortal life ever could. The weight of it. The grief. The people you lose, again and again. The things you outlive.”

You swallowed. “It’s beautiful, yes. But… it’s also lonely.”

There was silence. Not cold. Not uncomfortable. Just full—like the sea, like the sky.

And then his voice, low and even behind you: “It is.”

You turned back to him.

Dream was watching you not with surprise, but something deeper. Something like understanding. Or reverence.

You stepped toward him, your voice barely above the hush of the waves. “I don’t want forever. I just want enough. Enough time to build something. Enough time to love. Enough time to live a life that feels full.”

He said nothing.

But the way he looked at you—like he was memorizing you—spoke louder than words.

You exhaled, the sea breeze catching on your breath. “You didn’t bring me here to ask me about eternity though I hope.”

“No,” he said.

You searched his face. “Then what did you bring me here for?” You knew it wasn’t just about the house. It was about something else.

He took one step forward.

Then, in a single, quiet movement, he knelt.

Your breath caught.

Stars wheeled above you—silent witnesses.

You didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

The ocean breathed behind you. The stars held their formation, as if the sky itself dared not shift. Even the air around you seemed suspended in time—filled with salt and starlight and something impossibly still.

Dream was on one knee.

His coat spilled around him like shadow made soft. The lanterns flickered gently at the edge of the blanket, casting honeyed light across the sharp lines of his face and the quiet depth in his eyes. His hair, stirred by the wind, caught glints of silver as if constellations had settled there.

And in his hands, he held a ring, carved from Dreamstone itself—deep black, glimmering faintly, as if it held a sliver of cosmos in its heart. Not polished. Not gaudy. Just… eternal. Etched faintly with runes you didn’t know, but somehow understood. The way you understood warmth. Or hope. Or gravity.

He looked up at you—not as the Lord of Dreams, not as a monarch, not as a myth.

But as a man.

“I have spoken to stars,” he said, “and forgotten their names. I have carried silence across centuries, and let it bury pieces of me I no longer wished to feel.”

His eyes searched yours, vast and unwavering.

“But then I found you.”

Your breath stuttered.

“You did not ask me to be less,” he said. “You did not ask me to be more. You saw what I am—what I have been—and chose to stand beside me.”

He paused, but not for hesitation. For reverence.

“I do not ask you this because you are carrying my child. I do not ask because it is expected of me. I ask because you have become something sacred to me. Because love—true love—is the only power I have never ruled, only witnessed.”

He drew in a breath, slow as the turning sky.

“And now… I wish to belong to it. To you.”

He held the ring forward, palm steady, voice as soft as the waves lapping the shore.

“So I must ask, will you do me the honour,” he asked, “of becoming my wife?”

He let the question settle—not rushed, not begged, simply given. As if he’d placed his very heart in your hands.

His voice dipped lower—barely more than a breath.

“In this world,” he said, “and in mine.”

@crispyduckpirate @stranger-chan @hiraethmae

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@sandmanmasterlistblog @phythius @miarabanana @ladyofhisrelam @gemtales @peterpangirl21 @zafirina12 @li22ie2017 @slimearchon @dreams-a-little-dream @sriasavet @peterpangirl21

[baylara]

mean girls pt.i

sororitysisters!katseye x fem!reader

a/n: title has nothing to do with the song but it fits the story so that’s what we’re going with :) this is the first chapter of sorority!katseye. pt.ii is done and focused on manon, which should be up in a couple days. i picked a random sorority i found online and went with it for the sake of having a name. i know absolutely nothing about it so it won’t be accurate in that regard!

summary: you’ve recently joined the university’s Alpha Chi Omega chapter and your sorority sisters are making it very difficult for you to want to stay.

warnings: 18+ only, sorority au, everyone is a little mean to reader except for megan, suggestive material (will get more explicit starting the next part)

fic starts below the cut! (wc: 1.1k)

Sophia Laforteza had worked her ass off to get where she was. All she demanded was some respect and that her sorority sisters do the same. She was considered a hardass, but it was to maintain discipline. She made the rules, of which there were only few. Members were to come home before curfew which was set at midnight during the week and 3am on weekends. Some of them learned that rule the hard way- which either ended with them not being let into the house until morning, being berated by Sophia the following day, or both. It was usually both.

Aside from partying, members were also expected to maintain an excellent academic record and do monthly community service. But most importantly, under no circumstances were they ever allowed to betray another sister. The loyalty aspect was probably the primary reason people stayed, because members of Alpha Chi Omega always helped their own- even after college.

You weren’t ever interested in joining a sorority, but during your second year your mom was pressuring you to follow in her footsteps and join the one she had been a part of. You had the required academic profile and you were big on following rules, so Sophia immediately let you in. You were surprised that you were subjected to any hazing ritual.

Boy, were you so wrong to let your guard down.

•••

A few days after moving into your room at the house, you realized just how mean your sorority sisters were to new recruits.

It started with Manon forcing you to do all of the communal chores. You did it without question, wanting to fit in. That paired with your study schedule, had you fully worn out by the end of the night. Because of how much you had to do during the day, you always showered last- and since the other girls took their sweet time, you were forced to shower in the cold. Some fucking loyalty that was.

“You’re on dinner duty tonight,” Manon said, shutting your laptop. You looked up at her in frustration and opened your mouth. “You have something to say?” Manon asked, raising an eyebrow to challenge you. Lara and Daniela were also staring you down with the same cold look Manon had.

“No. I was just going to ask what you wanted,” I said with a defeated sigh. Lara placed bags of ingredients in front of you while Manon went through the recipe.

“Good girl,* Daniela cooed with a smug smirk, patting the top of your head before you got up to get in the kitchen to start making dinner.

“You need help?” Megan asked you. You were about to answer yes, but Sophia came through the front door and insisted she needed Megan’s help with something. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Better learn to behave,” Lara said, grabbing your wrist. She tugged you close, her body pressed right up against yours.

“Lara- let me go. The onions will burn,” you said, trying to pry your wrist out of her grip but she didn’t let up. Her face moved close to yours. In any other situation where Lara wasn’t such a bitch to you, you would’ve welcomed this treatment.

“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me, sweetie. Ask me nicely and I’ll think about it,” Lara said with a fake pout. Manon and Daniela egged her on.

“Please,” you whispered, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“Please what? I can’t hear you,” Lara pressed on, her grip on my wrist tightening as she pretended she couldn’t hear you. She placed a finger on her ear, taunting you to speak up.

“Please let me go, Lara,” you said in a louder voice. “I need to finish this,”

“You’re no fun. Fine, but only because the onions are burning,” Lara said, rolling her eyes as she released you. “Make sure you cook them right next time,” she added with a smirk before turning to leave.

•••

“It was good,” Sophia said after we all finished having dinner together. You were so relieved that she was satisfied with your cooking. “But I heard you messed up the first time. Every time you mess up, that’s more food being wasted. Clearly someone needs to be taught a lesson about being wasteful, so instead of volunteering at the soup kitchen once at the end of the month- you’ll be there every weekend until the end of the month.”

Megan looked at you pitifully while the other girls tried not to laugh. You just nodded and hung your head low before going into the kitchen to clean up for the night. Megan got up to come help you after a few moments. “I know they’re a lot, but they mean well.”

“Are you sure about that?” you asked her.

“Yeah! They just want you to be the best version of yourself. They just have a harsh way of doing it sometimes,” Megan said, stepping in to wash the dishes beside you.

“Sometimes?”

“Okay fine- most of the time,” Megan chuckled. “But seriously, they’ll come around. You’ve only been here a week. If it makes you feel better, that’s still longer than most girls.”

“Really?”

“Yup,” Megan nodded. “That’s why there’s not many of us compared to your average sorority. Even then, being here has its perks- like you get your own room and a lot of support from your sorority sisters… eventually.” You tensed as Megan’s arm brushed against yours. Your face flushed in embarrassment but before anything could happen, Daniela came storming in to grab a seltzer from the fridge.

“The fuck is wrong with you two weirdos?” Daniela asked before abruptly leaving.

“Well uh, goodnight then,” you said since you had finished washing the dishes.

“Night,” Megan replied before you both retreated up to your rooms.

After winding down for the night, you stared up at the ceiling in the darkness of your bedroom. You hated every one of your sorority sisters, except for Megan. She was the only one making the house even slightly tolerable. You were only still around because of her.

You wondered if any of the girls had ever been harsh with her, or even each other. Maybe you’d ask her tomorrow, but for now you had to get some sleep.

Your eyes were shut for all of two minutes until you heard slamming and moaning from the other side of the wall. What did you ever do to deserve this?

[blossombabbles]

Tokyo debunker boys reaction to Mc asking them to kill her: Jabberwock

A/n: Part 4 of my ongoing series inspired by @xienperna 💖 💖

She/her isn't used - I try to keep gn for my friend!

I tried to make Ren's a little lighter for a bit of relief, please DNI if you're in a bad mental state, this is not the time to read things like this. You matter, you do not deserve a cruel fate, you deserve love and happiness.

˚₊‧꒰ა··········································•✦•··········································໒꒱ ‧₊˚

If there was anything that possibly could have forced his eyes open, it was that question. Kill you? The man with an evasive maneuver stigma? What did you want him to do, deck brush you to death? Bonk you on the head until you passed out from boredom?

Unlike others, Haru believed in getting put down when you were in too much pain, he'd seen it in the animals in his care and often believed it was the right thing to do. Unlike animals, you could advocate for yourself and say exactly what you felt you needed.

How was he to say you didn't? He wasn't you. He couldn't take away your right to believe what you needed in such a given circumstance. He couldn't even say he didn't understand the thought process, he understood you completely.

But...

"Hah... You really know how to knock a guy off his guard, you know that?" His smile was meaningless, if only just to ease any guilt you felt in the situation. Even if he wasn't looking at you, he could feel your gaze on him so pointed and unsure. The fear was falling off you in waves, an upcoming event on the horizon... He wasn't sure how much longer you had. Didn't doubt it was soon. He'd known you for a while now...

"I uhhh, I don't really know what to say to that..." His hand held the animatronic one, wringing real fingers between already hard to move steel barely hidden by a glove.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that for you, [MC]... B-but it's not like I'm upset at you for asking!" He quickly covered, "in your circumstances I can't say I'd be feeling any different..."

A sigh parted his lips, shoulders slowly dropping, almost feeling like he was letting you down. A faith you had placed in him almost wrongly so now slipping through his fingers. Especially when you did so much for him... And he couldn't even help you with this. He wasn't a doctor, couldn't do things peacefully, not even a gangster - not a gun on his person.

"I'm just a selfish guy, you know...?" The smirk became forced, holding out a hand to you like a peace offering with guilt dripping off his warm voice, "I hate losing things I value. Maybe it's wrong for me to ask you to stay when you're hurting. But it's all I can do... Me and Boo would miss you... A lot, every day..."

He felt like a prick for saying that, trying to ask you to stay when you didn't want to. But losing you would be a fuck of a lot worse.

"But maybe we can talk to the doctors- plan something for if the ends coming too fast and we don't have a backup plan... Okay?"

When you finally accepted his hand, he pulled you in, a warm tight hold he didn't know he needed, selfishly he needed it... and he was sorry for being so selfish.

"Just a little longer... Hold out a little longer..."

"I don't like Romeo and Juliet, dandelion." He stated, crossing his arms under the beautiful tree that you and him both managed to see. The stars of the night sky opening his throat that seemed to close when the sunshine dared look his way.

The pout on his face was almost childish, like a toddler told he couldn't have ice cream after not finishing their vegetables and not a man who could trigger clouds to form overhead. Which was already starting with the gloom he was feeling.

Has Edward gotten into your head? That rotten corpse. He should throw MORE rocks at him whenever he's around you! He ruins everything! How dare he ruin you?! You're perfect as you are! An angel!

Because of course this couldn't possibly be your fault.

"Why would they die when they're in love? They could just be happy together."

"T-Towa, I'm not asking you to die with me."

"Then you're being silly. Where you go. I go. How else are we supposed to be together?"

He explained it strangely simple, if he wasn't ready to go yet, then you weren't supposed to be either. You were soulmates after all. He could feel it in his bones, the way that you made his heart stutter and the excitement he got whenever you were around, how could you want to leave him yet?

Suddenly it clicked back to him, that's right, that's why you smelled so sweet, so divine, like the most perfect bouquet he could have ever picked for you. The time was coming. You must be scared.

Poor little dandelion, you'll shake off all your wishes if you shiver so much... His arms quickly wrapped around you in a warm hug. Pressing your face warmly into his chest as he towered over you, pressing gentle kisses atop your head one after another.

"Don't you believe in fate, dandelion?" His hands rubbed up and down your back like in the movies when he notices people are worried, he's been paying attention, "everything will work out in the end."

"... What if it doesn't...?" Your voice shakes, a little bit of worry in the depths of your tone.

"Then I'll make it," he smiles, seemingly and entirely unbothered. As if it wasn't even a question.

"What-" you stopped his speech all in one go. A man with usually a thousand insults queued up like he was waiting in a call of duty lobby all fell away and completely wiped his brain with one fell swoop.

The silence of his room practically echoed with feeling, his mouth repeatedly opening and closing like the aquatic life he so hated. Hands caught in in-between gestures as he tried to find words. What should he say? Oh yeah -

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!"

He jumped back at least a foot, like somehow you were pinning a murder accusation right on his back. You wanted HIM to kill YOU?! HIM?! Doesn't he have enough on his plate?! Why should he have to deal with the guilt of killing someone on top of dealing with this fucking specific animals?! WHICH IS FUCKED BY THE WAY! JUST SO YOU KNOW!

"Why me? Why not that crazy biker guy?!" ... Who? Sho????? Jeez what does this guy have against Sho? "Oh that...! Creepy Casino THING???" T... Taiga? Suppose that made more sense, "why me?! I couldn't even do that if I wanted to! Unless you wanna be restrained in some fucking pool floatie!"

Once he finally vented out all this short circuiting his brain was doing, the man finally found his nerve enough to calm down. Staring at you on the bed, looking so broken, ashamed and alone. He knew that look, knew it all too well. Fuck. He'd gone and done it again, making you feel like shit just for asking him something. He wasn't good at this. This comfort thing. Didn't understand it. Didn't know how to do it.

"I don't -" he clicked his tongue, running both hands through his hair before a large sigh finally exited his lungs, breathing in... and breathing out. "I don't know why you came to me for something like this... I'm not really ... That kinda guy."

Slowly, the stupid emotionally bankrupt man sat down on his bed about an arms length away from you. He didn't know how you felt, wouldn't pretend to like others might, you wouldn't get any platitudes from him just because he felt bad. Though he also wasn't dumb enough to pretend he didn't understand why you came to him. Somehow - some stupid way - he'd made an impact on you ... Positively. In all honesty, you'd become a friend to him in all of this, even if it was just him sending you memes, for him that was a lot.

"... You know this place would suck ten times more without you. It will once you're gone." Even saying that made his stomach feel weird... Leaving his voice vacant. Once again, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

"... How far have you gotten in Adventure Terror?" (I made up a name I hope this isn't a real gacha)

"34 chapters..." You reply, seemingly confused by the sudden aversion of this question. He felt stupid for it. Really, he did, but it was the only way he knew how to communicate this to you.

"39. I want you to get to 39. Liliana... Goes through something and Archer says something's I think you should hear. I won't spoil it cause I don't suck that bad but..." He sighs, scratching the back of his neck, averting those water colored eyes away from you, "just text me when you've gotten to the end of it... I wanna know what you think...."

It was his subtle way of asking you how you'll feel, wanting to make sure you understand what he wants, what he's saying. At least a game could answer for him...

[scintillyyy]

anyways wrt to the cold vs warm dichotomy of janet the thing is i do understand that 'tec 618 does give at least some canon basis for a ruthless/colder businesswoman janet. however i do think the context of where she is at specifically in her life in 'tec 618 is also a key factor in her specific behavior AND it interplays super interestingly with her behavior in the rest of rite of passage and her previous appearances in batman year three and alpod. because at the point of 'tec 618 the context janet is

on a yet another trip in an attempt to with her failing marriage with her asshole husband

said asshole husband clearly doesn't respect her or her contributions to the company (i've touched on this before)

probably at the end of her rope from the above

rest under a cut for length

if we go back to batman: year three (which is one of the three main times we see janet and it not be just a memory of her by tim which may be a bit biased in favor of her--the three being batman year three, rite of passage, and batman #135), specifically batman #436 we see a janet who appears to be warm, loving, concerned and sensitive at the time of the circus. she is 1) polite to the graysons 2) warm and encouraging of tim's interests and 3) sensitive enough that she is the only audience member shown to be crying over witnessing the death of the graysons and concerned about getting tim out of there

now there's going to be fundamental differences in this janet vs grant's janet because wolfman and grant's writing given wolfman was focused on the connection of the dick and tim & their families meeting at the circus and grant specifically flanderized jack and janet into hyperpowered asshole businesspersons for his agenda of foiling tim's circumstances against lonnie's. but even in grant's colder portrayal you can tell he means for janet to be the warmer and more sensitive between the two (jack & janet).

if you take the circumstances of 'tec 618 in particular you're given the following circumstances:

jack and janet's marriage is failing and has been for while

the more frequent trips only recently (how recent? never says but you can assume only in the past few years rather than tim's whole life) are their attempt to patch their marriage

now, a lot of people point to the postcard as jack and janet being flighty and not caring about their son enough to update him consistently about their travels, and it certainly can be read that way. on the flip side, in 1990 a postcard informing him about their change in travel plans and rough return & possibly delay is exactly them trying to keep their son updated on their travels. i always remind people that in joker's wild there was a big plot point that bruce wayne, millionaire, was also completely out of touch and unreachable being overseas in the same era. the upbeat nature of the postcard certainly makes them look happy, but considering there's an upbeat postcard immediately cut to them fighting horribly is also an implication that jack and janet, while a bit misguided, are in their own way trying to shield tim from the nasty realities of their deteriorated marriage. which!! is still harmful for tim!! he clearly takes their behavior as disinterest, but you can also infer they're trying to protect him in their own way.

now fighting through their secretary is NAGL and definitely shows that janet can give as good as she gets and can be petty and cold. it also shows that she probably has a better head for business than jack (wanting to take the safer route). however i do think her behavior is interesting in that we see that the fight jack and janet and the silent treatment she's currently giving jack is a result of *jack not listening to her advice* and *generally disrespecting her*. we're told she made a file on why they shouldn't go to haiti. we're told that jack did not read the file at all and decided they were going to go to haiti unilaterally.

janet's not responding with the most maturity, but it's jack who's negging her on with picking at her looking at cap haitien--a place he knows she didn't want to go and is kind of deliberately rubbing it in that they've gone with what he wants. of course a woman at the end of her marriage is going to be petty and argumentative and rude like this. jack is probably deliberately picking at a sore spot of hers.

and as for the rest of rite of passage following this--she's mainly shown as sensitive, scared, and regretful of her behavior in the face of death. she immediately becomes worried about jack when they get kidnapped despite the bad blood they've had for months. she's devastated over the killing of their assistant. she's terrified nobody will come for them because of the no deal policy (that jack is being very obnoxious about--she hardly looks like she was definitely 100% on board with that policy). she's regretful about how if she knew something like this would happen, she wouldn't have ever wasted the good things--in contrast to jack who is being a smarmy asshole basically the entire time they're kidnapped.

for all janet gets the reputation of being a cold bitch for her behavior of fighting with her husband in the plane, throughout the rest of story her behavior is contrasted with jack in an interesting way. between the two of them, janet may have the better, more level head when it comes to business--it's jack who's cast as the greedy, ruthless, risktaker here. jack is the one who blusters about how he'll fire the board if they don't choose to pay the ransom despite the policy he put into place (because for all he says "we", gordon indicates it's him who signed off on it in a talk with batman). jack is the one who wanted to take the riskier, potentially more profitable haiti venture. jack often gets the "not good at business" treatment from fandom, but what he really is is a risk taker. and there were plenty of times in comics that being a risk taker worked for him well! he was clearly doing well prior to rite of passage. he kept his business going just fine following rite of passage from like 1990-2000 & wrote a book & was also a successful, award-winning hobby archeologist. his problem is not that he's fundamentally super bad at business, it's that when his risk taking doesn't pan out.....it really doesn't pan out. (in fact, red robin touches on tim getting his ruthlessness from *jack* specifically when it comes to learning from him in the chess match about people acting in ways you expect)

idk i feel like what we're shown is that janet is probably a bit better at being more level headed and less of a risk taker than jack. she's definitely more sensitive and emotional and caring than him. while i don't deny that 'tec 618 shows that she does have an ugly side to her--can be cold to the people she loves when she's angry, petty, can be a bit rude--and tim can and certainly does take after her in those aspects, there's also plenty of canon evidence to show he also got his warmth and compassion from her--and i also think it goes to show that warm and compassionate people can and do become ugly when their life circumstances put them in certain circumstances. the janet who interacts with tim in a warm, loving way every time we see her is janet. the janet who gets nasty with her husband can also be janet. just as tim can be both compassionate and yet still sometimes judgmental.

ultimately, while i do think that janet being a cold businesswoman can and does have some canon basis given 'tec 618 i do think we're also given the heavy implication in that same story that jack is the more ruthless and cunning person compared to janet's carefulness and that jack is the ultimate arbiter of what goes at drake industries despite what his wife may or may not want. i think you can certainly infer from rite of passage that janet has been stuck in a deteriorating marriage with a husband who doesn't fundamentally respect her as a wife or a coworker and her behavior at the start of this might come from the fact that she's been stuck in that situation for who knows how long. we do know that every time she's shown on page with tim, be it in memory (alpod, beggars banquet) or in person (batman #436, batman #135) she's specifically shown as warm and loving and encouraging to tim in her interactions with him, specifically. and that does contrast with her behavior in 'tec 618 where she does come across as more of a cold business person. but if you marry the two concepts wherein you have janet--a fundamentally compassionate and warm mother who is married to a husband who doesn't respect her and also receives that disrespect from him in her actual job--where being a businesswoman in the 80s in a male dominated profession probably required of her to have to be harsher, prioritize the job over her family in order to be taken seriously at all as a career woman, and possibly put on a mask that is at fundamental odds with who she is as a person? then we get a worn down and frustrated/irritable janet that we see in 'tec 618. not that being cold isn't a valid reading--grant certainly intended for the drakes to be money is power new money asshole yuppie ceos of the 80s--but i think you can also certainly intepret her bevahior in 'tec 618 as a woman at the end of her rope lashing out rather than the gold standard of how she treats tim or how she even normally acts.

i just think that we have way more canon indications of any coldness or cunning or ruthlessness in tim coming from *jack* in particular than to tie that particularly trait to have to come from janet, who generally comes across as more cautious and careful and kinder overall, even if probably she was a bit better than jack in business-sense but was fundamentally not respected for being better at it on the grounds of her sex. the problem with cold businesswoman janet is not that it exists it's that it's often a sexist caricature of a powerful woman that doesn't take into consideration why women in male dominated professions have to act cold in order to stake even a small a place in the boys club and what effect that might have on them. there's no consideration to the fact that we see jack disrespecting her contributions on page and her behavior is a response *him*. cold businesswoman janet is never taken in consideration of her circumstances or how she's treated, and i think it's a bit of disservice to just "cold, smart, powerful businesswoman who steps on men" power fantasy her when on paper we're basically shown the sexist and disrespectful treatment she was on the receiving end of by her husband as a career woman. anyways. janet who is kind and warm and smart and good at this but also has to put on a harsher front and still gets not taken seriously no matter how hard she tries.

[fanaticsnail]

Crave You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,700+

Synopsis: Kaku has done something and refused to admit to it. Instead of simply asking him what and why he did it, getting him to use his words and truly admit to his fault, you decide to use a different technique for your lover.

Themes: Kaku x afab!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, NSFW, established relationship, pegging, oral (reader receiving), dominant reader, no pronouns, bondage, seastone used, love, passion, edging, so much edging.

Notes: For @mamaalpha who loves this giraffe Zoan User. This is the first time writing for the beautiful giraffe man. I hope I did your boy justice.

The chinkering of chains shuddering ricocheted around the room and danced off every surface surrounding the cobblestone bedroom. The windows were partially cracked open, allowing the sea air to gently wave through the glossy, sheer curtains on the top-story building. A subtle smacking of lips meeting skin meshed with shuddering gasps fleeing Kaku’s mouth while his head slouched back against foam and feather stuffed pillows. 

His fists balled and tugged at the hardened restraints of seastone barring movement and agility of his limbs. The longer he gripped and pulled at the chains, the harder the coils squeezed around his tanned wrists. Kaku clenched his rounded eyes tightly shut while his breath quickened in thick and heavy pants. Kaku’s toes curled while his back made that perfect convex arch while his body met its apex of pleasure-.

-Only to be halted by the sudden absence of pressure from your lips. 

“PLEASE!” Kaku yelped in a pathetic display of growled protest, “I've been so good! I'm so close, please!” Under usual circumstances, you would give in to the sweltering needs of your beloved giraffe Zoan user. However, this was no ‘usual circumstances’. As Kaku’s cock bobbed and released a small wave of pearled precum at his slit, you licked a thick swipe of your lower lip and leaned down towards him. 

“You have not been ‘so good’, Kaku,” you retorted with a small smile, “You have, in fact, been a little shit of late.” Your hands moved slowly up his spread thighs, gently adding pressure to his taut muscles while you made your way back down between his legs. His eyes never left yours while your lips pursed and blew a small, cool stream of air over his glossy tip. 

“A-Ah-hah! Cold!” Kaku whimpered as his legs attempted to squeeze themselves shut regardless as to your presence between them, “F-Far out, brussel sprout. S-So… So close. Please?” 

“No,” Your expression was finite, your instructions firm and resolve unwavered. Kaku whined out while his body slouched back against the linens and focused on reducing his desperate need. His cock twitched while a deep, shaky sigh shuddered through his clenched teeth. As he finally felt that edge almost fade away from its tangibility, you struck with a mischievous grin almost tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

A hot, encumbering need filled the Zoan user as your lips parted and took in his pulsating, engorged tip and slowly made its way down his shaft. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked in more of his length while you relaxed your throat of its reflex. Kaku yelped out while sparks of shooting lights snapped within his vision.

“H-Hot! So hot!” Kaku commented at the contrast of the cooling stream now meeting the comfort of your warm mouth swallowing his length. You grinned while flattening your tongue and teased your way back up to his frenulum before swiping at his slit leaking more of that precum your work had earned you. Kaku’s eyes rolled in his head while a pitched groan croaked through his desperate lips. 

“Please,” his words came through like a soft whisper, “I-I know I didn't behave earlier. I know. Please, I know.” Kaku’s soft whimper almost broke you out of your resolve while his cock screamed for your attention. Instead, you elevated your hand up and down his shaft gently to hold his orgasm dormant and hammering against the precipice. 

“Use your words to tell me what you did,” you cooed down at him, “Then apologize-.”

“-I'M SORRY!” Kaku shrieked out while his thighs shuddered in pleasured anguish, “I’M SO SORRY! PLEASE!” His hands clenched tight against the restraints while the seastone shackles held firm around his wrists. 

“No.” Your hands left his body completely, sitting up in a single swipe while Kaku screamed out your name in hopelessness. The giraffe Zoan user hastily threw his head back and let out a frustrated growl while the mattress dipped up in your absence. Kaku’s cock desperately throbbed and dribbled with need while his eyes were clenched tightly shut. 

“Considering you're refusing to use your words to confess your crimes, Kaku,” you warned him, “Let’s put that mouth to better use.” You slowly creeped up over his face, placing your knees either side of his head while you hover your core over his lengthy nose. Edging him for so long had its effect on your body, and knowing how close you made him every time you drew his cock in, your pussy began leaking with need sticking to your folds. 

“Get me off, or you won't be getting off today,” you warned him firmly while you descended down onto his face, “Put that nose of yours to good use and- AH!” Your words died on your lips while you felt Kaku's greedy tongue begin laving through your folds and suckling at your clit. His moaning lips whimpered out a few desperate cries, shuddering vibrations through your core while you attempted to maintain focus on dominating him. 

The flickering tongue almost had you on your downfall before you felt his nose urge closer to your glistening slit. Without skipping a beat, the rectangular shape slowly pressed into your needy walls while he continued groaning at the pressure of your knees squeezing his head to hold focus. You felt you had no choice but to stare at his cock twitching and waving at you while he drew your body closer to its edge. 

Surging forward, you anchored yourself by pressing your chest to his belly while your hands and mouth slowly and needily grasped and mouthed at his cock. As soon as your body made contact with his, Kaku’s whimpers became louder and louder. Your eyes rolled in your head while your hips slowly moved against their will to ride his nose and lips. The edge was beginning to tip for you just as you noticed it was starting to rise again with Kaku.

Hastily withdrawing your attention from his cock, Kaku whined greedily while continuing to aggressively lap and Bob his head to and fro to find your pleasure mounting at the crux. The shackles continued to clang and serenade the ringing in your ears while white split within your mind's eye. 

“K-Kaku! Don't you dare stop! I'm go-gonna-!” you threaten him while your body heaved and rode through the approach to your euphoria, “You're gonna make me cum! Hgghmm-! Fuck-!” Immediately, a wave of bliss crashed over you as your ecstasy gushed over the blonde man’s face. Rhythmic pulses contracted in the pit of your belly while searing jolts of electricity stampeded through your veins and pulsated the ringing in your ears. 

Kaku greedily continued lapping at you, moaning and whimpering into your core while his cock remained still standing and untouched. His precum nearly broke the barrier and shot through an untouched release, only for him to completely focus on your body and put his needs second. 

Finally coming down from your high, you take a moment to catch your breath before dismounting from Kaku’s head. Slowly pulling away from him, the sight of his sweat-kissed and arousal-soaked face flushed and begging was enough to have your clit pulse and desire rise once more. Hardening your exterior, you narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips at him. 

“Now that we've got that out of the way,” you smirk down at his trapped and bound body, “Admit what you did, and then apologize. But I won't accept any apology before you tell me what you did.” In lieu of returning to your position between his thighs, you slowly waltz over to the drawers and remove your harness and sort through the silicone for your partner’s favourite. Fishing out a patterned, ribbed blue phalice, you placed it within the ring while Kaku’s body buzzed with anticipation. 

“I-I-... Is that the one that has the buzzing attachment at the base?” Kaku chirped as a moan shuddered through his body, “I want you to get off too-.”

“-Kaku.”

The firmness in your voice while holding the large cock within the harness forced a twitch through his cock. The veins swelling along the shaft was pulsating heavily enough to view while his peaked nipples moved with the air gulped into his chest. Kaku’s eyes met yours, his entire body disheveled and utterly punished by the pleasure you withheld from him. You almost gave in at that moment, letting your little plaything for the evening get off the hook and get himself off. Instead-.

“-I took your old Galley La likeness from your desk and fucked my fist to it.” 

There it was.

“And, darling?” you asked while popping the cap on your lubricant and slowly spreading it along the tip of the cool shaft, “What happened next?” Kaku whined while gulping at the sensual sight as his wrists and ankles tugged at the restraints. You slowly move over to the bed, slicking your fingers in the lubricant while lining your han up with his puckered hole. “Words, Kaku. You’re doing so well. Keep doing well for me and use them.” 

Kaku’s whimper caught in his throat as his body reacted to your words. Slowly, you push your index finger inside him to the first ridge, watching for any discomfort while you spread him open. He mewled and brayed like a beast, his cock shuddering immediately while he adjusted his body to the stretch. 

“I-I… I was begging for you. Whining for you. Calling your name while you weren’t there with me,” his voice wavered with every twist and stretch of your fingers moving within him, “A-And I edged myself to you. Please.” Kaku wiggled his hips to take more of your fingers, prompting you to add another to stretch him out to be ready to receive you. “I wanted you. A-And I wanted-, fuck just like that,” he ground his hips into your fingers, arising a smile on your features while you continued to work him open, “I wanted you to edge me like this. Please fuck me with the strap. I need it-, I need you.” 

“I know you do, Kaku,” you chuckled down at him, withdrawing your fingers and replacing it with the tip of the cock while the vibrating end sprung to life on your clit, “You did so well using your words, sweetheart. Now keep using them while I fuck you like this.” 

Slowly edging the tip inside his entrance, he mewled senselessly as you speared him open. Kaku’s puckered hole squeezed around your silicone tip while the vibrations reverberated against your clit. The Zoan user struggled against the restraints while he squeaked seamlessly at your ministrations. He attempted to gyrate his hips up to greedily meet your thrusts, halting only with your hand on his belly. 

Pressing him down into the mattress, you thrust your hips forward to draw flush with his own in a single motion. Kaku let out a single loud moan, throwing his head back while you withdrew, only to immediately press forward once more. Kaku’s voice continued to chirp out small moans while you continued to rut your hips slowly, yet firmly into him. 

“I-I want this. I-... I wanted this,” he whined while your silicone tip kissed his prostate, “I pictured you doing this while I edged myself to you. I wanted you like this. I craved you,” he whined desperately while you rut into him. His cock desperately leaked with precum while remaining untouched. 

“You did, didn’t you?” you taunted him with one cruel smack of your hips meeting his, “You wanted this so badly.” He squeaked out loudly and firmly, not in protest, but in euphoria as you drew him closer to his edge in another way, "Keep talking, Kaku. Keep letting me know what you wanted and what feels good." His prostate was kissed with every soft thrust forward, his cock leaking from his tip to his shaft every time. 

“I w-wanted this-, can I cum. Oh fuck, can I cum?” his pleas ricocheted with the squeaking of the mattress and the bedframe meeting the cobblestone wall with the headboard, "Please. No, wait. Please I need to. I need you. Please let me cum." You refused to draw your hands down to play with his shuddering cock, ensuring every edge of his bliss was met through his entrance and scraping at his prostate. Kaku whined out harshly with his back meeting that perfect curvature away from the mattress, “I-I can’t hold it an-... Fuck… Anymore. Please? Please, please, please, please, please-!” Kaku bit his lip to withhold his cum from springing forth, yet it wasn’t enough to halt the entire mass. 

“You going to cum without being touched, Kaku?” You asked him tauntingly, feeling your own pleasure shuddering from the vibration on your clit to your greedy core already prepared from Kaku’s earlier nose and tongue, “You poor baby. You’re not going to show me that resilience? And all without saying-.”

“-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I used your face. I’m sorry I stole your picture. I’m sorry you walked in while I coated your face in all of me. I’m sorry I continued even though you said to stop. I’m sorry I needed you so bad I resorted to using what I had at hand to fuck you with because I love you so… So… So fucking much-, fuck, I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m cumming.” 

True to his words, after his apologies and full confession, Kaku’s cock immediately began sprouting his euphoric release in thick and heavy spurts. The cock inside his ass was enough to massage him through his bliss, his body pulsating around the shaft with every heavy and screamed exhale. His orgasm was delayed, built up, withheld, and then stampeding through his inhibitions. He whimpered, cried, begged, pleaded with every thick rope uncoiling from his slit. Kaku was a man lost in the wilderness that was his own ecstasy.

In lieu of seeking your own gratification, you used his orgasm to unshackle his hands of the ties, cuffs, chains, and restraints. As soon as his hands were free alongside his ankles, you laced your fingers with his own while he rode through his high by your motions. His bliss never seemed to end, his cock continuing to be a fountain to his own demise with every heavy moan and convulse. 

After several soft, leading thrusts, Kaku halted his wailing and began to sob through a laughter in relief. His hands unlaced from yours at the same time your silicone cock removed itself from his puckered hole. He drew you down to press flush against him, embracing you with a mixture of chuckling, laughing with his entire belly, heavy and heaving sobs, and soft wailing. You were concerned for a moment before his lips found your cheek, kissing your flesh with gratitude laden in his whiskey-sweet tone. 

“I needed this, baby,” he whispered into your velvety flesh, “I needed you so bad. Crave you more and more every day. I’m sorry I took your picture from its place, and I’m sorry you walked in on what I was doing with it. I wanted you so badly, and work has been so demanding lately.” His kisses continued meeting your skin in every moment, slowly trailing down your neck while your hands wedged between your bodies. Flicking off the vibrating feature of your strap with your hands, you moved them back to his body and cradled him into your chest. 

“I craved you too, you know?” you whispered softly, “And I was never mad at you. I thought it would be fun to play into your desires to see what happened.” Kaku sniffled through a sob while you moved back, “You remember when you played into mine last time?” 

“With the wax, or with the blindfold?” 

“Kaku.”

Both of you erupted into a small fit of giggles while you slowly moved to the position beside him on the bed. Hands moved to his face, caressing his skin while his hands cupped your own. Kaku and your eyes met with thick and heavy blinks. Both of your expressions were filled with love and pure adoration beneath the skin, moving your actions to meet together as one. 

As if in a single breath, your souls met through the channel of your lips. A soft, delicate, placating and romantic kiss passed between you while your breaths shared one another’s presence. Eyelids fluttered shut, lingering in the final de-crecendo of the passionate exchange you found within the arms of your lover. His hands found your cheek once more as you both rolled onto your sides; chest to chest, skin to skin, soul to soul. 

Pulling away after lingering far too long, your half-hooded eyes met with his and shared a single phrase that sealed your fate so long ago. Three words that had forever and always within their markings. 

“I love you.” 

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @mermaniaa @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel @nocturnalrorobin

[senseless-writing]

Bits and Pieces

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Summary: Y/n wants to capture her and Austin's first beach trip on film. Austin just wants to keep looking at her.

Warnings: None!

A/N: This piece is another result of me cleaning out my drafts! It was initially supposed to be a one-shot built from little snippets of family videos made with Austin throughout the progression of their relationship (mightttt have been a request, can't remember), but obviously I never continued it past this first snippet.

Thought I'd just post what I wrote anyways!

Masterlist

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

“Okay, movie star, give me that picture-perfect smile!”

“You know I hate when you call me that.” 

Of course Y/n knew, which is exactly why she did it. She loved watching Austin’s face scrunch in pretend annoyance. Honestly, you’d think he of all people would feel comfortable in front of a camera. 

“So you’re not gonna smile for me?” she pouted, holding the camera up to her squinted eyes to ensure he was still in frame.

Austin rolled his eyes at her obvious guilt-trip, but his face still fell into an easy grin. Y/n marveled at her boyfriend through the viewfinder. From the way the sun hit his golden skin just right, singling out each freckle and blemish that she’d traced a dozen times with her lips, to the way his hard-earned muscles practically melted in the warm beach sand. 

He laughed up at her from his place on their shared blanket. “What are you doing exactly?” 

“I’m recording. Documenting! It’s our first beach trip.”

“I grew up in California, babe,” he squinted, wishing his girlfriend would shift to the right a little to block the sun from his view. “I can assure you, this isn’t my first beach trip.” 

Y/n shuffled forward to kneel in front of him, and his hands moved to catch her as she wobbled in the sand. “I know, silly, but it’s our first beach trip as a couple! Say ‘hi’ to future us.” 

She allowed the camera to pan down Austin’s frame, grazing over his toned chest and abs. Under normal circumstances, perhaps she’d feel a bit shy; ashamed to be ogling him in such a way. But loving someone with a great personality and a great body was something worth celebrating. “And,” she continued with a soft smirk. “Let old-man-Aus remember how hot he was in his youth.”

A look Y/n knew well settled on Austin’s face as his grip on her waist tightened significantly. “Oh?” He raised a single brow. “You think I’ll lose my looks with age, is that it?”

She bit her lip and smiled. “I think your days are numbered,” Y/n could barely say the words without laughing. 

Austin used her moment of distraction to steal the camera from her hands, tucking one arm under his head while using the other to point the object back at her. He didn’t bother looking through the viewfinder, though, preferring to appreciate Y/n with un-filtered eyes. 

Her wild hair, blowing every which way in the wind, was practically begging for his hands to try and tame it, even if it would’ve been a pointless effort. Her easy grin, her rosy cheeks, the vision of her kneeling over him with the sun at her back and mischief in her eye, it all left him a little dazed and dizzy.

But really, who could blame the man? 

“Well I don’t think future Y/n has anything to worry about,” Austin said with a matter-of-fact tone to his voice. He very expertly zoomed in to catch Y/n’s bashful laugh. 

“I won’t look like this forever!” 

“You’ll be beautiful forever,” he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. 

Y/n hummed, silently congratulating Austin for both his quick thinking and sweet talking. She shuffled forward on two knees until she was close enough to turn and fall back-first into his already waiting arms. With her head nestled comfortably on his shoulder, she reached up to turn the camera so it faced them both. 

“We’ll want to look back at these one day,” she explained to both the camera and Austin. Y/n was oblivious to his gaze, which never moved from her face. “Bits and pieces of our life caught on camera; the real parts, not just what everyone else sees. Like a movie, but for our eyes only.” 

Finally, she turned her head to meet his eyes. “You think it’s stupid?” she tried to gauge the look on his face. 

He corrected her with a gentle smile. “I think it’s sweet.” His hand raised, fingers dancing gently over the apples of her cheeks. “You’re burning.” 

“Hm,” she pressed a quick kiss to his wrist. “Or you’re just making me blush.”

“No, I think you need to re-apply.” 

Y/n wanted to roll her eyes, though she knew he was only looking out for her. He always did things like that, going out of his way to worry over something miniscule.

“I will,” she conceded, which seemed to make him content. 

Austin leaned in for a kiss, his smiling lips brushing against her own. He paused, released a breathy laugh, and reached towards the camera lens with an open palm. The video cut to black with the sound of waves still echoing in the background.

[gatheringbones]

[“In most complex civilizations, inheritance rights have indeed been at the center of marriage. This meant that the definition of a “legitimate” marriage was a burning and often a disputed question. However, in some societies, inheritance rights do not depend on marriage. A child born out of wedlock among the Kachin of northern Burma was counted as legitimate if the father paid a fine to the girl and her family. Among the Kandyan of Sri Lanka, by contrast, a child’s legitimacy derived from the mother. As long as the presumed father was not from a caste lower than the mother’s, his actions, intentions, and marital status had no impact on the child’s status.

Another wrinkle in the relationship between marriage and inheritance is found in those Middle Eastern societies that recognized the pre-Islamic tradition of mut‘a, or temporary marriages. These were designed to allow sexual outlets for men and women under certain circumstances without subjecting them to the otherwise harsh penalties for nonmarital sex. Mut‘a was condemned by Sunni Muslims but accepted by Shi‘ites and by Babylonian Jews, who allowed a sage entering a new town to request a “wife for a day.” In these temporary marriages the man and woman had no obligation toward each other once the contract was over. But if the woman bore a child as a result of the relationship, that child was legitimate and was entitled to share in the father’s inheritance.

Some societies pay no attention at all to “legitimacy” in determining a child’s rights. When Jesuit missionaries from France first encountered the North American Montagnais-Naskapi Indians in the early seventeenth century, they were shocked by the native women’s sexual freedom. One missionary warned a Naskapi man that if he did not impose tighter controls on his wife, he would never know for sure which of the children she bore belonged to him. The Indian was equally shocked that this mattered to Europeans. “You French people,” he replied, “love only your own children; but we love all the children of our tribe.”

The concept of illegitimacy is completely foreign to matrilineal societies, such as the Navajo people of North America, in which descent and inheritance pass through the female line. But even some patrilineal societies give inheritance rights to the child of an unmarried woman. Among the LoWiili people in Africa, if a household needed more members, the head of the household might encourage an unmarried daughter to bear a “house child,” who would become a member of its maternal grandfather’s descent group.

Japan had no equivalent to the English word bastard until the Meiji Restoration in 1868. Only then did Japanese reformers adopt Western distinctions between legitimate and illegitimate children. Prior to that time, the language had a word to indicate that a child had been born to a concubine rather than a wife, but such a child was not necessarily denied inheritance rights or legal recognition. Indeed, the Taishō Emperor, who ascended to the throne in 1912, was the son of a concubine of the last Meiji emperor.

In societies where inheritance rights depend upon legitimacy, marriage is usually an elaborate ceremony that confers a whole package of rights and obligations on the partners—but only if all the procedures and social exchanges required by law or custom are carried out. In these cases, people have traditionally been enormously concerned to prove that their marriages were legally binding or to prove that someone else’s marriage was not. A person’s future could ride on whether the authorities declared that the marriage had been contracted in the proper manner and conducted with all the necessary rituals.

In other cultures, marriage may be nothing more than a public acknowledgment that a man and a woman have become a regular couple or are raising a child together. Among the Mbuti Pygmies of the Congo, a couple is considered married if they have lived together for two seasons.

In some small-scale societies, if a man and woman are seen eating together alone, they are considered married. Among the Vanatinai of the South Pacific, studied in the 1970s by Maria Lepowsky, unmarried couples may sleep together, but until they intend to move their relationship to a new stage, they do not eat together separately from their kin or other social groups. “The act of marriage consists of the new husband’s staying in the house with his wife after dawn and eating the breakfast his bride prepares.”

Anthropologist Edmund Leach, working in Sri Lanka, was startled to be told by villagers that a nineteen-year-old woman had already been married seven times. When he asked how that could be, he was told “that if a girl was seen to be cooking a meal for a man this was evidence that she was ‘married’ to him.” Often the corollary is that when a woman stops cooking for a man, the marriage is considered over. And among the Gururumba of New Guinea, males and females who are not married to each other never eat meals together, because eating cooked food together is considered the equivalent of having sexual intercourse.

Despite all these variations in the social role and meaning of marriage, through most of history marriage has generally involved a societally approved division of labor between the partners, with each sex doing different tasks. If a man went out on long hunting trips, which always ran the risk of his coming home empty-handed, it was good to have a woman gathering plants and nuts or tending crops. If a male was trapping animals, it helped to have a female manufacturing pottery and clothes. For millennia, one reason people married was that an individual simply could not survive trying to do everything on his or her own.

But sometimes the division of labor within marriage has been determined by the social role an individual chooses to play rather than by the person’s actual biological sex. In many Native American groups, for example, the rare person who chose to do the work of the other gender could marry someone who shared the same biological sex but played the opposite role in the division of labor. A man doing “woman’s work” could marry a man doing “man’s work,” and a woman doing “man’s work” could marry a woman doing “woman’s work.”

These social gender roles completely overshadowed the actual biological sex of the partners. As a result, sexual relations between two people of the same sex, when one had chosen man’s work and the other woman’s work, would not have been considered homosexual, had an equivalent of that label even existed. But eyebrows would certainly have been raised at the idea of a man and a woman living together if both were playing the same work and gender roles.

Probably the single most important function of marriage through most of history, although it is almost completely eclipsed today, was its role in establishing cooperative relationships between families and communities. In Anglo-Saxon England, women were known as peace weavers because their marriages established ties of solidarity between potential enemies or feuding kin groups. The Luo of Kenya defined their preferred marriage partners this way: “They are our enemies, we marry them.” Anthropologists working in Africa and New Guinea have recorded many variations of the saying “We marry those whom we fight.”

Marriage also allowed families to pool labor and resources or to establish some kind of partnership between two different kin groups. When anthropologist Margaret Mead asked a New Guinea villager why people didn’t marry inside their own families, what scandalized him was the question’s violation of economic sense, not sexual morals: “Don’t you realize that if you marry another man’s sister and another man marries your sister, you’ll have at least two brothers-in-law, while if you marry your own sister you will have none? With whom will you garden? Who will you go to visit?”

The Bella Coola and the Kwakiutl societies of the Pacific Northwest provide a striking example of how establishing connections between kin groups sometimes took precedence over sexual or reproductive issues in determining marriage. If two families wished to trade with each other, but no suitable matches were available, a marriage contract might be drawn up between one individual and another’s foot or even with a dog belonging to the family of the desired in-laws!”]

stephanie coontz, from marriage, a history: from obedience to intimacy, or how love conquered marriage, 2005

[nerdanel01]

Kiss Week - Three: Morning kiss

for @dragonagekissweek !

Pairing: Emmrich x Rook (unnamed they/them Rook)

The magnificent light of the Fade wrapped its thin fingers around the edges of the room, and blinking into wakefulness, Emmrich knew he’d overslept. He should have been out of bed by now, well into his morning stretches—he had hardly moved all night, and his body had sunk a little too deeply into the mattress to be entirely comfortable. 

Oh, but Emmrich recalled—as he felt the weight of Rook’s head upon his shoulder—there had been… outstanding circumstances. 

How long had it been since Emmrich had awoken in the company of a lover? He did not quite dare to count the years. It had been long enough, in any case, that he found himself filled presently with a quiet, brilliant wonder. He could smell Rook’s hair, feel Rook’s body shift, softly, alongside his, with each of their gentle, somnolent breaths. This warmth, this intimacy—Emmrich had missed it even more, perhaps, than sex (although there, as in almost all circumstances, Rook had proved to be, always, generous, communicative, and enthusiastic.)

‘Careful,’ the wound in Emmrich’s heart warned. 

He had been here before many, many times: on the precipice of recklessness, and ready to fling himself off the edge. Experience had taught him that he lived too readily, too deeply, too fast—that his heart asked too much. Rook was under terrible pressure, and there was so much at stake. Emmrich had joined the Veilguard first and foremost to defend Thedas against the corrupt gods. He was old enough to know better than to risk the mission with his… melodramatics. He should fortify himself. Welcome Rook when they desired him, but expect nothing otherwise. 

He should get out of bed. He should start his morning stretches. 

Gingerly, Emmrich took Room’s arm in his and unwound it from his waist. Levering the pillow to keep Rook’s head supported, he began, as smoothly and slowly as he could, to slide free—

—but Rook’s brow tightened, giving their sleeping face a troubled, pained expression. Their hands fumbled until they met the warmth of Emmrich’s skin; and then, with a soft murmur, Rook stilled, lowering their head back upon Emmrich’s shoulder. 

Emmrich froze. 

Rook’s eyelids fluttered against his throat, and he felt his resolve crumble. 

…Just this once, perhaps, his morning routine could wait. 

Emmrich pressed a soft kiss to Rook’s brow, then settled back against the pillows. When Rook awoke, he would be the perfect gentleman—discerning, accommodating—he would expect nothing. 

But for now, while they yet slept in his arms, Emmrich did his best to commit the feeling to memory: the lovely rhythms of Rook’s sleeping body, curled close, naked and warm against his. 

[vieramars]

Woe, spamtenna disability headcanons be upon ye

During the big shot era, Spamton gradually developed glitches as a side effect of his deals on the phone. He'd always get extra glitchy after phone calls, then they'd ease up, but each time his baseline got a little worse.

The glitches cause vocal tics, muscle spasms, and as a result a build up of fatigue and pain.

Spamton refuses to acknowledge this and will work just as hard as ever, to his own detriment. Sometimes he'll even push himself harder than he did before, to "prove he can."

Often the case is that he physically can force himself to put in all his energy to TV segments, ad reads, and behind-the-scenes work, but afterwards he crashes hard.

Crashing generally involves fatigue and pain so extreme he can barely get out of bed. During these times he blames it on a hangover or withdrawals because he'd rather people think he's on drugs (which he is but that's not strictly related) than think he's "weak."

The more exhausted he is, the more he glitches, creating a downward spiral of Fuck.

He won't be vulnerable about this with ANYONE, even Tenna. However, he will let Tenna care for him during bad episodes as long as neither of them acknowledge it.

The puppetification makes everything worse. Now, Spamton has loose, rattly joints with zero shock absorption and a tendency to slip out of alignment unexpectedly. And since this seems to be around the same time he gets thrown in the free pool, add severe burns to that.

I headcanon that he lost his eyes to the acid. He can only see with the dealmaker glasses now.

He's physically a lot weaker for a while after that ordeal. He spends his recovery time slowly repairing himself with whatever he can find in the trash zone. Not everything he was able to find was exactly compatible, so he's prone to short circuits and sometimes loses function in limbs at random. This is made worse by his glitching.

Now that he's hit rock bottom, he cares less about being visibly disabled. He found a cane somewhere in the trash zone and uses it to walk.

The neo body makes a significant improvement to many of his conditions. If he were to successfully use it and free himself from his strings, it would essentially function as a very effective mobility aid.

Tenna has all the aches and pains of an aging body and he's in denial about it. He's got a weird back, weak knees, achy hips, and basically every one of his joints pops when he moves.

His vision is also starting to distort. He has visual snow (bc tv lol) that can make focusing on things really hard.

Like Spamton he will not admit to any of this under any circumstances. He hates feeling old bc it reminds him of all his insecurities about being obsolete or broken.

After the knight, Tenna has some terrible joint pain in his shoulders. They're very, very weak for the first few days and even after that, lifting anything or making big gestures hurts a lot.

This pain gradually spreads to his back and chest bc he basically has to compensate for his shoulder joints, which puts a lot of stress on the rest of his upper body.

His screen is also damaged by the attack, worsening his vision problems. He has blind spots and worse visual distortions.

Tenna can ignore his usual pains but ever since the knight he's been constantly overwhelmed by the sheer level of pain. His pain tolerance has tanked as a result. And rhe slightest thing can cause a flareup.

Tenna also hates having to rely on other people when in pain. It's a combination of "relying on people is scary because what if they abandon me when I need them" and "needing people will make them resent my and hate me and then they'll definitely abandon me"

Unfortunately he doesn't have much of a choice bc of the severity of his condition. Pair that with the fact that he doesn't really have a support system that's equipped to help him, and the result is that the strain on his relationships can only get worse. He needs more from his few remaining friends than they can give, but he can't stop needing it.

If he and Spamton were to reunite properly, Tenna would refuse his help at first. But Spamton, having already been through a severe injury much like this, knows better than anyone how to help him.

[anonpolls]

Awhile ago, I received an AI slop coloring book as a gift. I did not know it was AI when I received it, nor did the person who gifted it to me know. I cannot ask the individual to return it, nor do I have the means to return it myself as I obviously was not given the receipt.

Thanks, Anon!

-submit your poll!-

[lizardboiii]

WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER

꒰ ft. Trafalgar D. Water Law x reader

꒰ synopsis: Lions & tigers & and bears, oh my! You certainly weren't in Kansas anymore, but you definitely weren't in Oz either.

You're finding it’s much harder to convince a sadistic Demon King to help you get home than any fictional wizard.

│cw: 18+, SFW, no use of y/n, fluffish, f!reader

│wc: 2.4k

│chapters: I II

│notes: this work has gone through 4 different Demon Kings and many more rewrites. I honestly just posted this rather than scrapping since I already finished so much of it previously. If I make chapter 2 it will pry just be pure smut lowkey

│AO3 Link!

│Chapter I: Highway Gateway to Hell

The stark red of the Torii contrasted against the green foliage like a vivid stain. It stood ominously, tuning out the vibrancy of its surroundings.

While the splatter of divinity stuck out like a sore thumb, it was clear as day how rundown the gate’s outward appearance was.

Unruly moss grew up the gate’s chipped pillars. The deep, almost gaping, cracks blemished the wood like veins. If you looked close enough you were sure you’d see them beating.

Your eyes outlined the kanji scrawled in black ink. The small characters meant to bless the gate were worn from over exposure, practically unreadable. It was as if the gate had been there for centuries. 

You clenched your hands into tight fists, alarm bells ringing in your head. While the world stilled and your mind raced, you could only manage one clear thought.

That Torii Gate had never been there before.

A shy foot stumbled back as you sifted through your endless stream of thoughts. The occult club had taught you plenty about the paranormal, including random appearances of Torii Gates.

Surprise, surprise, the sudden materialization of them was never good.

From Robin’s ‘Supernatural and the Real’ books to Franky’s enthusiastic Wikipedia searches, the number one rule regarding manifested Torii Gates was… 

Under no circumstances DO NOT go through them.

You recalled Usopp’s fearful ramblings as Robin listed off different repercussions that may take place if one were to pass through such a gate: Demonic possession, irreversible disfigurement, and in most cases - death.

The thought made you shudder. Taking another uncertain step back, you contemplated your next move. The gate was placed directly on the footpath you took to get home from the university. If you used another path it would take another 30 minutes - at least - to get home.

Groaning, you combed your fingers through your hair. Were you seriously considering some loony idea that a misplaced gate would transport you to some alternate dimension?

There had to be a plausible explanation for the gate’s abrupt manifestation. An old shine might have been relocated due to external affairs. Hell, maybe an abandoned shine was rediscovered and the town decided to erect a new Torii for it.

Then again, what if the gate was some evil passageway to hell? 

Your brows furrowed as you toyed with the idea. Maybe as soon as your foot hits the other side an unbearable heat will claim your leg and you’ll be dragged kicking and screaming through the spirit world. Hideous beasts and unimaginable horrors tearing through your soft flesh like butter.

Suddenly, a nonsensical idea entered your brain. Robin would probably lose her mind if you could prove she was right. Not to mention Usopp’s and Nami’s gobsmacked faces would be hilarious.

On the other hand, if the rumors were fake, it would be satisfying to debunk a myth Robin so fervently believed in.

Content with your internal rationalization, you stepped forward with new found determination. There was only one way to find out if the myths were true after all. 

A dirtied sneaker crossed through the center of the gate. What's the worst that could happen anyway? 

After all,  you were never one to follow rules. 

・❥・

The first thing your eyes clung to was the fast approaching snow covered ground. The plush ice did little to cushion your harsh descent as you slammed face first into the ground pathetically hard.

Spitting out icy snow, you carefully pushed yourself to your hands and knees as you frantically observed your new surroundings. Tall timber engulfed you in thin spindly trees. Each bare branch was coated in a thick layer of fluffy snow. 

Save for your own handprints imprinting the snowfall beneath you, the landscape looked largely untouched - almost barren.

You shuddered when the wind suddenly picked up. The gale howled mercilessly as snow pellets pierced your skin like tiny bullets.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you attempted to ignore the wind's relentless assault by focusing on the faint scent that slowly started to invade your senses.

Sharp yet rich, you couldn’t pin the smell. It almost reminded you of the large jar the club collected coins in, metallically sweet. You snapped your eyes fully open.

The air smelled of…copper.

You gasped in shock as you spun around to your feet in a frenzy. There was no way you were hanging around to find out what smelled of blood. 

In the blink of an eye, you went rigid at the lack of red behind you. 

The Torii Gate you entered through no longer resided in its original position; instead, an impossibly deep forest took the red gate's place. Only two small divots in the snow confirmed the gate's previous existence.

If your heart was beating any faster you were sure it would beat right out of your chest. It was hard to tell if you should be excited that the legends were true or if you should be shitting your pants that you were now stuck in some alternate dimension.

You felt dizzy as you tried to comprehend your situation. Just what the hell did you manage to get yourself into?

A twig snapping sent your neck flying in the sound's direction. You searched the tree line hysterically. Thoughts of savage demons and ghouls seeped into your mind, polluting your already distressed thoughts. 

Then, your eyes caught a glimpse of tangerine. Hidden behind one of the larger trees, a figure stood motionless. A figure that looked all too human.

“HEY!” 

Your voice filled the blustery air before you could even decide to speak. Startled, the orange adorned figure squeaked before speeding away. Their strange animal mask's fur whipped with the wind in their rush for safety, their form fumbling along the way.

You reached out an apologetic hand, “Wait! I didn't mean to scare you!”

The spooked figure paid you no mind, preferring to scramble further into the trees. Quick to action, you sprung after them, desperate to understand just where the hell you managed to end up.

Twigs and leaves cracked under your worn shoes as you followed the stranger deeper into the gangly forest, “Wait up!”

Ducking under low branches, you skidded across the snow when the figure made a sudden turn. Your quickened breath clouded the air in small puffs as you quickly regained the distance.

“Just wait a minute!”

You suddenly felt grateful for taking up Sanji’s suggestion to practice with your university's track team. In a few quick strides the stranger was a mere arms length away. Reaching your hand out, you went to snag their orange robes.

...Crack 

Your ears twitched at the almost inaudible sound. 

...Crack

Hand yanking back at the smooth fabric, a high pitched scream entered your ears.

Crack!

You had little time to register the sinister sound of ice popping and shattering beneath you before it was too late.

The world crumbled from below your startled form cruelly. Extremely aware of your predicament, you clutched the unknown figure's larger body in your arms, attempting to pull them back.

・❥・

Cold.

So cold you felt like you were going to die.

Freezing water enveloped your entirety as your body shocked itself numb. Nosing burning, you grimaced as water rushed through your nostrils, filling your windpipe.

Snapping your eyes open, you took in the depths of the frigid water stunned. Vivid shades of cerulean and violet swarmed your shape, forming small spirals of light. The water around you practically glowed. It was as if you were watching a miniature aurora borealis.

You couldn’t remove your eyes from the spectacular sight. It captivated you, pulling you deeper into a false comfort. Bubbles sprang from your mouth as your last breath of air escaped your lungs. 

Immediately, water rushed through your agape mouth as you sank lower into the polar depths. Yet, what should have been painful felt…warm. 

You closed drooping eyes. 

You could stay here forever.

A harsh hit to your gut ripped you from your daze. The elbow shoved into your midriff quickly reminded you of your oversized captive still trapped in your arms. Panicked for their safety, you ignored the tender warmth the water tempted you with and finally swam toward the surface.

Your head broke through the water's surface with a loud ripple. Hacking and coughing, you were quick to help the heavy form in your arms to safety before you attempted to pull your own soaked body out.

Desperately, you grasped at the frozen ground. Your frostbitten hands clawed at the jagged edge of ice, pulling yourself over the edge. Your stomach raked over the unforgiving broken ice causing you to hiss loudly. Free of the water, you collapsed onto your pulsing stomach. 

Finally on solid ground, your body heaved as you desperately inhaled the crisp air. Your lungs burned at the intrusion but you didn't dare to stop greedily taking air in. With a murky mind, you noted how the swaying of your vision felt like you never left the water. Maybe in another world you didn't. 

A dry cough brought you back to the present. Turning your own exhausted form to the side, you watched the mysterious stranger next to you. They now lay drenched in the snow, fighting desperately for their own oxygen.

Their plush body shook and wept as they attempted to fill their neglected lungs. Your heart throbbed at the sight. 

Limping to your feet, you brought a hand to their shoulder, “Are you alright?”

“EEK! STAY AWAY, HUMAN!”

A massive paw slapped your hand away forcefully. Your reddened skin stung, only worsening from the cold air. You rubbed the abused area with a pout.

“I was just trying to help…”

Your words slowly trailed off as you studied the man - no, bear in front of you. The costume he seemingly wore was made of pure white fur. Extremely dense and soft to the touch. While his clothes dripped in excess water, his pristine fur remained dryer than a desert. 

You carefully examined his mask and gloves. Both were ornately detailed, almost life like. You couldn't help but commend the craftsman who made it. You couldn't even tell if there were seams!

Sighing softly, you met the mask's beaded eyes with your best pitiful gaze, “Please, sir. I just need help figuring out where I am.” You rubbed the ridge of your brow, “I know this may sound crazy, but given your eccentric attire, maybe you’ll be more inclined to believe me.” 

“M-my outfit is not eccentric! These garments are perfectly suited to serve my master!” The suited man clutched his paws into tight fights. He was clearly upset you would assume his “master” had poor taste in fashion.

“Ya, ya, my bad,” You couched down next to him, “Can you at least remove the mask? Its eyes are starting to creep me out.” Your lips pulled into a grimace, “You look like one of those furries back in my own world.”

The masked man tilted his head, “Mask? I’m not wearing a mask.”

“....”

“YOU’RE NOT WEARING A MASK??”

“YOU'RE NOT FROM THIS WORLD??”

Like banshees, your combined shrieking echoed across the open landscape. You both fumbled around the icy terrain, desperate to find shelter from one another.

Adrenaline pumping, stance widening, you grabbed a nearby stick and pointed at the talking bear, “What are you! Why can you talk?!”

The bear raised his arms in front of himself, “GAHH! I’m sorry!”

“Are you a demon?” Your eyes widened, “Are you going to eat my liver?!”

“I don’t wanna eat your liver!” He clenched his eyes shut tightly, “Please don't hurt me!” 

Your grip loosened on the stick. You thought demons were supposed to be blood thirsty animals. Why was this one so…meek?

Immediately, your fight or flight response was whisked away. While he was a bear, he didn’t exactly feel dangerous. If anything, he felt more like an overfed pet. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lowered your stick, “I won’t hurt you.”

His eyes brightened and his ears perked.

“If.”

Instantly, his ears drooped once again. 

“You tell me who you are and where I am.”

The bear slowly nodded, twiddling with his paws, “My name is Bepo. I am a servant of our King.”

You hummed, “King?”

“Yes, King,” Bepo tugged at his robes, exposing an emblem on the cotton’s left breast, “My master is Trafalgar D. Water Law, ruler of the Ninth Circle of Hell.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, “...Hell?”

Pride filled Bepo’s face, “My master punishes those who have committed the ultimate sin of treachery!” Bepo tipped up his nose, “All traitors will be reduced to mere popsicles once he gets his hands on them!”

Bepo’s rambling felt like background noise to your inner turmoil. You were in Hell. Like the actual literal Hell. 

But you didn't die! How could you be here if you were still alive?

“Th-this isn't possible!” You cut off Bepo, “As far as I’m concerned I’m alive and kicking on the other side!”

Bepo blinked at you before lowering his head. His form stalked over to you ominously, his eyes covered by a black shadow. You watched him cautiously, heart thundering against your chest.

Then, he lifted a paw to your neck. His sharp nails scratched against your smooth skin. Expecting a slash, you sealed your eyes shut, waiting for Bepo to finish the job.

“Huh, I guess you're right.”

Your eyes snapped open at Bepo’s voice. Two of his fingers were firmly planted against your neck, checking your pulse.

You felt your eye twitch, “Would you…TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY!?”

Bepo threw his hands up, “WAHH, I’m sorry!”

You huffed at his response, rubbing your neck to confirm it was still in fact attached. Satisfied with the lack of blood, you returned your attention back to Bepo.

“Is there any way for me to get back?”

Bepo quickly nodded his head, “There is! You’ll just need to follow me!”

The large bear didn't wait for a response before he started walking back toward the tree line. In fear of being left behind, you ran after him, “Hold up! Where are we going?”

Pausing, Bepo looked over his shoulder, “To the King of course!”

You felt the color drain from your face. Of course you had to meet the Demon King in order to leave Hell. You just hoped it would go as well as meeting Bepo.

But deep down, you knew you weren't going to be that lucky.

・❥・

[mattscoquette]

it has been brought to my attention by a few people that there have been concerns about the friendship between me and one of my friends rory (@chrisstvrns). this is in no way meant to defend, deflect, or run away from the accountability of my actions, but simply to clear it up.

rory and i became friends and mutuals in about october of 2024. at that point, she had displayed in her bio, that she was 18. and at that time, i was still 19. a few months passed, and her and i would talk through instagram dms often, and often interact on each other’s posts on tumblr.

in march, i posted to my close friends story asking if anyone wanted to exchange numbers, since everyone in my close friends i trusted. rory swiped up, along with a few others, and i gave them my number. rory and i made a group-chat with our other friend, who is of age, and we talked in it everyday.

after a month, in april, rory texted us and told us she was lying about her age, and that she was 16 going on 17 this august. i was truthfully taken aback by this, i don’t think lying about your age is ever okay under any circumstance, but when she told us how she would get de*th threats in her inbox for being a minor, i felt sorry she had to deal with that. ever since that moment, i made it a point to be conscious of how i interact with her, both personally and on tumblr.

EDIT: i’m also only bringing this up to talk about what happened, im not trying to push the blame onto rory in any way for lying about her age.

i’d also like to acknowledge the fact that i did meet her at the triplets tour. in february, i had purchased an extra diamond vip ticket for the surprise party tour. unknowing what to do with it, i reached out to a few friends, including rory, to see if they were interested in buying it from me. at this point in time, though, i was still under the impression rory was 18, had i known she wasn’t, i wouldn’t have ever offered her the ticket.

however, her and i still did meet at the tour. she told me she had gotten tickets, and wanted to meet up with me at the tour. all of these plans were made before i learned she was 16, as she had told us she was lying about her age five days prior to the show. i personally didn’t see an issue with still meeting her, since neither of us were going out of our way to meet up with one another, and we were both at the same show. i met up with her while i was with my 16 year old brother, we talked for maybe ten minutes by the bathrooms, then went back to our respective seats. rory has mentioned to me again possibly wanting to meet up one on one, and i told her i wouldn’t be comfortable doing that until she is at least 18 or older.

i’d also like to acknowledge quickly that every time rory had defended me on anything, i would text and tell her not to. there have been countless asks she had received pertaining to me, and i always tell her to delete and ignore it. as much as i appreciate the concern, i’d never want her to get mixed up in any drama or anything having to do with me.

as for us texting about nsfw content, i have truthfully no recollection of there ever being any of that since i learned she was a minor. the only thing i know of, and that was brought up to me, was rory’s fic that i gave her the idea for. i had no malicious intent behind it, the only reason i brought the song up was because i was listening to it and i know rory is a big ldr fan. however, despite my intentions, i shouldn’t have said it period. these are the screen shots of that entire conversation.

i will still read and interact with her fics, however in the group chat we hardly ever talk smut fics or anything of that matter to begin with. as i said before, i made it a point for myself to mindful of the way i talk and interact with rory. most of the things we talk about are our common interests and things going on in our lives. however, if there is anything that someone else may know of pertaining to the way i talk with rory, please dm me and we can talk about it.

all in all, i think at the end of the day, being friends with minors may be tricky, but as long as there is a clear set boundary with the adult as to what’s okay and what’s not, i think it is fine. rory is the same age as my younger brother, and that’s truly as i see her- like my little sister. i’m sorry if i have hurt anyone by my actions at all, it’s something i never wanted. i always want my blog to be a safe space for everyone who comes across it. again, if anyone has any issue or concerns please feel free to dm me so we can speak about it.

-rylee ୨୧

[sillygoofyqueer]

I'm really bored and I want to talk about the KPDH x MXTX AU so...I'm going to talk about the AU. I mean, what else would I do in this situation lmfao. "I'm going to torment myself by not talking about it"? NO. KPDH X MXTX AU!!!! Okay so I have no idea what I was talking about last time but I want to talk about the other Mogui Boys. I know if I get into That One first, we won't hear about Mobei-Jun, so we're going to start off with him! Mobei-Jun is a demon, the only one who was actually borne to a demon and was raised as a demon - a noble one, at that - so he does not really care about humans or what they have to offer. Yes, he knows what cultivators are and why he should avoid them, but he doesn't need to concern himself with that when he does not leave the demon realm. He has no reason to, not after being lured out by his bastard of an uncle as a child and almost died were it not for a young boy with brown curls finding him curled up beneath a patch of green plants and going "uh oh, you're not supposed to be here." Next thing he knew, he had been led back to a tear in the Honmoon with the little boy saying "this stays between us, kay? Gege would kill me if he found out!" Mobei-Jun has always hoped that that boy's gege had not killed him, for that would be a worrying blood-debt to have to uphold. He's already bound by another debt that he still hasn't considered fulfilled.

After all, after he found himself stumbling back into the demon realm, a far too human boy found him moodily stomping around because he knew where he was, he just didn't know how to get back to his home!! Luo Binghe was easily swayed into helping him in exchange for his silence, and Mobei-Jun wasn't going to go around telling people that he had found the forgotten heir to the Demon Realm, so they made it work. Demons did not have 'friends', but humans did and, due to Luo Binghe being half-human, he proclaimed them to be friends after Mobei-Jun snuck back out to see him mere days after he had gotten back to his home. It was far too easy to slip out from the servants' watchful eyes, and Mobei-Jun had to ensure that Luo Binghe hadn't died before he could fulfil his debt to him by giving him food. Humans of any kind were far too easily attached, if anyone were to ask him. All this time later, Luo Binghe is finally calling in that life debt, and it requires him to sing and dance. Yes...that humiliation is surely more than enough to fulfil a debt, perhaps Luo Binghe is more demon than human after all.

I know I should talk about how the others react to him, but that can be done later. Right now, I'm talking about That One. He Xuan. BARK BARK BARK etc etc, let's GOOO. This takes place like six hundred years before the main timeline of events, back when people still believed in demons and cultivators, before they were worshipped as gods. He Sheng was always meant to be a cultivator. He was selected from a very young age due to the way qi seemed to naturally swirl around inside him, taken from his family with the promise that he would be taken to visit every month or so until he could go back and forth of his own accord. It's easier for him than others to get the hang of singing, and fighting, but he never makes a big deal out of it, always helping those who ask or need it. He's like a favourite of the sect he's been taken into, and it's easy for everyone to like him when he's rather humble about it all. However, nobody really likes him more than Shi Qingxuan - she and her brother joined the sect under mysterious circumstances, and yet they seemed to fit in quite well nonetheless - because she clung to him from the first moment they met.

Unlike Shi Wudu, who was quick to catch up to others his age in terms of cultivation, Shi Qingxuan struggled a little more with it. He Sheng tried to help her along the best he could, but she didn't seem to worry about it too much, and so he didn't either! They were close to one another, and he felt seen enough to tell her about his frequent-as-can-be visits to his family when he wouldn't tell anyone else about it, and she whispered to him that she was a boy, but she didn't mind being a girl. That she was cursed by a demon, one that fed on her fears and caused constant misfortune. He promised that he liked her anyway, and that he wouldn't let the demon hurt her if it came looking for her, and she promised that she'd go with him to meet his family one day, and that she'd teach his sister how to braid because he wasn't that good at it. While she and He Sheng grew and bonded together, Shi Wudu worried about his meimei's cultivation. If she didn't manage to grow her cultivation enough, she wouldn't be able to become a proper demon hunter, and then eventually ascend with him, meaning she would be at the mercy of the demon that had cursed her.

When a voice came whispering in his mind, promising that it could help him ensure his sister's safety, he did not hesitate. He followed its every command, because it said that it was the best for everyone involved. Even as he performed the fate switching ritual between He Sheng and his meimei, it was because the voice whispered that He Sheng wasn't cut out for demon hunting anyway, that he would be better off with his family instead. Suddenly, Shi Qingxuan was getting very good at cultivating. Suddenly, He Sheng's family was falling into dire straits, and it got to the point where he left the sect so he could be with them and help out as much as possible. Shi Qingxuan was miserable, but Shi Wudu decided that it was just for the best. Meanwhile, things start rapidly going downhill in He Sheng's life. His family's business began failing, and what happened next is much like canon. His meimei was murdered and he was blamed for it, spending two years starving in prison before he was set free, to find his mama dead. The sect refused to talk to someone seen as a criminal, and Shi Wudu wouldn't let Shi Qingxuan reach out, because the voice told him that He Xuan did this to himself.

Things got worse. His mother died, and all businesses he started were sabotaged by rivals. Whisperings started up in his mind, telling him that he was useless and that his efforts were all for nought. Patterns began to etch themselves into his skin, every bit of self-hatred coalescing into hatred for the world. Everything was brought to a boiling point the night his baba died. Nobody could help him bury the body, not after he had been so scorned by some cultivators drinking in the establishment he went to ask for help in. He dug the grave himself, whispering becoming louder until he was struggling to hear himself think. The voices called him a monster, a demon, so why should he not be a monster, a demon? That night, he grabbed the first weapon he saw and went into the village, slaughtering everyone who had ever wronged him as he made his way through. We all know how this story ends, with a mere man succumbing to his exhaustion and injuries, resentment screaming out in his soul as he fell into the water below, as it opened its clutches to greet him like an old friend. The demon realm gained another citizen, but he went with a violent rage, a hunger so desperate that other demons avoided his territory. Until one demon didn't.

[peakleeblinders]

Breathe In, and Breathe Out.

requested by @estelle-skully !!!

a lee!min-su, ler!se-mi and ler!gyeong-su fanfic :))

sorry if i mischaracterise im shit at things like this

TW: depictions and descriptions of anxiety and the affects of such and OOOONE tiny swear word (just ONE okay guys)

and interactive narrator-esc trope cuz im bbbbored

PS: after i write ryokos fic ill take a break from fic requests (might write my own on my own accord), but ill happily write drabbles/head cannons and give prompts for you all!! i also wanna do hc trades hehehe

ill also see if i have any more requests before taking a break from fics because im sure i might have one from a friend

SUMMARY: after the pentathlon, min-su feels a little shaky after being intimidated by nam-gyu. gyeong-su goes to comfort his new friend, and se-mi soon comes along to help

so so very sorry if it is sloppy!!! i genuinely had no ideas for this LOL (ill just make it up on the way)

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

The games. The stupid games, the games where people die, the games where people can turn their back on you with a mere click. No one was safe here - no one was willing to lose themselves, so they resorted to killing others to survive. The stakes were high, the pressure was indefinitely unbearable and there was 45.6 BILLION Won over their heads.

Some people could handle this immense pressure - their own will and determination keeping them going - yet some people had certain... Supplements to help keep their heads 'clear' and their reflexes quick. It provided an unfair advantage, as always. But, life was unfair, wasn't it?

Yet, that wasn't the case for all. Some players, man or woman, had crumbled under the influence and the atmosphere of the game and their peers. One of these players were a man - a man who had the presence of a child - Park Min-Su. This man was so deeply afraid, so gravely shy, you'd think he would have died in the first game. But, no. He had prevailed - much to his favor - and had met a girl. This girl was named Se-Mi, and they had bonded quite quickly despite their opposing natures.

After The Pentathlon, Min-Su had immediately went to his stiff, rock-solid bed. The games' horrible circumstances had left him a mess, his ears ringing loudly, hands trembling and quaking.

Right. I'm dropping this formal act. Time to get into the story, yeah? Impatient people. Goddamn.

He began to grip his hair, pulling out of frustration and fear. Why was he so stupid?!Why did he call that number?! He didn't know if he could get through the next one - oh, but what would it even be? Did it involve fighting? Would he survive? Would Se-Mi survive? Surelytheyhadtofinda-

"Hey."

.

..

...

Dead silence.

"Hey, uhm... Are you- Can you hear me?" A man with a soft voice spoke, looming over Min-Su. The troubled man slowly and cautiously looked up, his eyes meeting the other's. His player number read '256' and he instantly recognized him as Gyeong-Su, a superfan of that 'Thanos' dude. But.. What did he want? Surely it couldn't be anything good- Yes, he seemed nice but wHO REALLY KNEW HOW HE WAS?? HUH?? HE C- "I'm.. I'm Gyeong-Su, hah- We were teammates.. Y'know, in The Pentathlon? Are you okay? You seem quite shaken." Stop fucking interrupting me. My God.

"...I'm... Uhm- I'm fine, thanks.." Min-Su spoke timidly, watching as Gyeong-Su sat down next to him. "I'm Min-Su.." Still slightly uncomfortable, he hugged himself tighter. Yet, something about Gyeong-Su's presence felt.. Welcoming. Warm. Nice. He couldn't help but relax slightly.

"Min-Su, huh? Why are you so upset?" Gyeong-Su inquired, nudging Min-Su on the side slightly, causing him to flinch and cover himself. "Oh, sorry- Did I hurt you?" He began to gently rub the mark, earning a strained gasp from Min-Su.

"N-No- You're fine-" It takes a lot of will to keep his giggles in, but he does, yet a small smile lingers on his face. Gyeong-Su takes no notice luckily. "And.. Uh.. The games. They're.. I-I don't know how to explain-" The shy man feels tears well up in his eyes. Great.

"Hey- Hey.. It's okay. You don't have to explain if you can't- Just, uh.. Breathe in," Min-Su did so. "And breathe out." Wow. That actually.. Seemed to work? Min-Su felt himself relax, and he wiped his tears in his sleeve.

"I-I Uhuh- Thank you. As I was saying, the.. This. This is too stressful.." Gyeong-Su nodded along, understanding the man's fear. Who wouldn't? "T-There's a guy, Nam-Gyu, I think.. He was really harsh on me - I'm just a bit shaken."

"Ooh.. I get it.. You need some cheering up?" The SuperFan asked a bit awkwardly, then earned an equally awkward shrug. How would he cheer Min-Su up? I mean, yeah, he didn't know this man.. But - Oh! He was laughing earlier, but at what?

Maybe he enjoyed the rubs on his side?

Eeehh.. People don't laugh at that.

But he did.

Why?

Maybe he's just ticklish?

Yeah, yeah, that's it. And, tickling makes people happy.

That being Gyeong-Su's exact thought process, he snaked his hand around the quiet boy's side and dug in slightly, testing the waters. He couldn't help but admit to the fond smile on his face when he heard a delicate squeak come from his lee. "Ahaw- Dude, that was adorable!" He began to gently wiggle his fingers, moving his hand up and down Min-Su's side.

"Aha- Whahahat ahahare you dohoing?" Despite his confusion, he subtly leaned into Gyeong-Su. This was the first time he laughed freely in the games - heck, it had been so long since he had laughed period. I mean- Can you believe it or not?! This man has had a harsh life! Spare him some slack!

God, and you lot call yourselves miserable because no one's posted in your community tag. (first time ragebaiting plz be mad) Like, please. Grow up.

"I'm tickling you. It's working, obviously, you're leaning into me." Min-Su's face was instantly coated in a nice, red, visible hue. How embarrassing.

"Nahaha- I-I'm nohohot!" The Lee attempted to squirm away to prove a point. Gyeong-Su then moved his hands to gently squeeze at his stomach, the other starting to laugh hysterically. He was quite sensitive there - obviously, and was about to-

"Excuse me."

What in the living SHINDINGS is it with these stupid idiots interrupting me. Like, God.

"What are you doing to him, huh? Because if you are - I swear I-" Semi was cut off by Min-Su.

"Sehehe- Sehehe-Mihihi! Hehelp-" That made Se-Mi smile too, but she'd never admit it. She sat next to Gyeong-Su.

"Did you hurt him?"

"No. He seemed a bit upset, so I thought I'd cheer him up."

"Good. Here - let me help. Go for his hips."

Se-Mi began to hold Min-Su close, but the latter didn't fight her off this time around, only squirming lightly when Gyeong-Su tickled his hips. The spot wasn't all that bad - Se-Mi didn't intend for it to be. She wanted Min-Su to still breathe, yet have as much fun as they were.

"Aweee.. That's adorable. How'd you know?" The man asked, looking up at player 380. She only scoffed lightly with a small smirk.

"Lucky guess." She mused, holding player 125 tighter when she felt him kick out slightly.

"G-Guhuhuys! Guys- I'm rihihight hehehere!" The Lee whined, let was in bliss. Luckily no one else could hear or see them.

"Shh.. Just take it Min-Su. Breathe in, and breathe out."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

sorry if this is bad hehehe!! legit took me 4 hours </3 I started ts at 19:00 and it's 22:00

NEXT PROJECTS

HWANG BROTHERS

THANOS TEAM

BALDIS BASICS HCS

alright im gonna go eep now gn

[callme-holly]

boxer!tim and reader’s meet cute or ugly or whatever? maybe first kiss? 👀👀

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 - 𝐓.𝐒

||۶ৎ in which tim shepard and reader meet for the first time under unlikely circumstances part of the boxer tim shepard!au

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

The walls of the basement were gritty and crumbling, practically begging for a refurbishment or a splash of paint, but had been left bare purely for the sake of the fact that nobody had expected a soul to wander down here. 

At least, the people who did were hardly worth the money needed for a polish. 

The lights were flickering, the bulbs buzzing in a way that made you cautious, their sickly yellow hue doing practically nothing to brighten the space. 

It was packed down there; bodies pressed against bodies, shouts filling the humid air, resounding off the walls and pillars. There was no sense of control, no care for who jostled who, all attention solely on the two men in the centre of it all. 

You weren’t sure what possessed you to wander down; you were never meant to know about the ring your father ran downstairs. When he’d caught you looking, he’d told you that it was “just a side hustle to bring in a little extra cash” and that “your mama doesn’t need to know, okay?” 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t look. 

The guys down there were all people you would usually stay away from, people you wouldn’t dare touch with a six-foot pole. They were dirty, rough, dangerous… Everything your father sheltered you from. 

You barely made it to the edge of the ring, hands gripping the ropes like your life depended on it, just to feel something that wasn’t safety. 

You didn't even register the body pressing up behind you until he grabbed your forearm, fingers digging into your skin in a way that made you yelp, your whole body whipping around.

“You lost, sweetheart?” The words were a lazy drawl, slurred by the sweating beer he held loosely in his free hand. “Look far too good for a dump like this.” 

The guy was older; greasy hair, clothes dirty and threadbare, and his eyes… The look behind them made your stomach churn. He was just another sleaze who thought if women wouldn’t go to him, he’d make them.

“I’m… I’m fine. Thank you.” You tried to wrench your arm free, each tug just as futile as the last. 

Still, he didn’t release you. In fact, he just leaned closer; you could smell the booze on his breath now, poignant and acidic in a way that made you swallow thickly. 

“I bet your daddy doens’t know you’re down here slumming it with these guys.” 

You pulled again, eyes darting about the room, hunting for someone who might step in to defend you. But they were all the same, and none of them were paying even an ounce of attention to you or your desperation. 

The cheers around you faded ino the background, the fight ongoing behind you won and over, another starting. The creep didn’t seem to care. He was still grappling at you like a starving dog. 

“Please… Let go…” Your words were quiet, lost to the roar of the basement, pathetic to your own ears. 

“She said, let go.” The voice cut through the noise like a knife, sharp enough to startle both you and the man; his grip tightened for a fraction of a second before finally releasing you.

He stumbled back a step, beer sloshing from the rim of his bottle. “Hey, Tim, man… Cool it. Was just offerin’ her some help.” 

Tim scoffed, his presence looming as he stepped up behind you; his hand ghosted your hip, not quite touching but possessive in a way that offered you a limina of comfort. 

“And she said no,” His voice was a low growl, a rumble deep in his chest that sent goosebumps straight through you.  “Didn’t think that was so hard to understand.” 

The guy nodded fervently, and then, as if he’d never even been there at all, he vanished, scattering like a mouse would in the presence of a cat, retreating to the shadows where he’d likely keep to himself until the next unsuspecting girl wandered in.

You let out a long breath, one you didn’t realise you were holding, and slowly turned to look at Tim.  

He was handsome in a rugged way, but the danger that seemed to radiate from him was irrefragable—there was blood on his wrapped hands and a cut beneath his eye which was already beginning to swell. 

He was the underground boxer your father bet on. 

He was the extra cash. 

“You okay?” 

You blinked quickly, snapping out of your reverie quick enough to offer a jerky nod. “Fine. Thank you.” 

He only nodded in response before his hand settled on your lower back, guiding you away from the bustle and to a more secluded corner. 

“You shouldn’t be down here, you know. Not safe for girls like you.” 

You raised a brow at that, arms crossing over your chest in  a way that screamed defiance. “I’m allowed to go where I want. This is my bar.” 

“Correction,” he cut in, looking far too smug for your liking. “It’s your old man’s bar. And I don’t think he’d be pleased at the idea of his little girl hangin’ around guys like me.” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I was just looking.” 

“And looking got you tangled up with the wrong kinda guy.” Tim let out a long breath, fingers raking through his sweat-matted curls. “Get out of here, sweetheart.” But even when you turned your back on him, retreating back up the stairs to the safety of the bright lights and the watchful eyes of your father, something still pulled you back. 

And Tim’s eyes lingered on you right until he knew you were safe. 

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[lyneysnumber1glazer]

GENSHIN CHARACTER ROMANCE HCS

Characters: Lyney, Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvillette

Warnings: none other than slight angst on Kaeya's. This is also my first post so it may not be good.

short desc: just some hcs about what a relationship with them would look like imo.

LYNEY

His love language would be quality time! He loves just existing in the same room as you without feeling like he has to maintain a conversation. He feels at ease knowing that he doesn't need to keep his charismatic act up around you and that each others presence is enough for the two of you.

Not necessarily a romance hc but he would take care of the stray cats around Fontaine and has named every one of them. He'd also regularly bring food for them, making sure that none of them go hungry.

100% calls you names like, "Mon amour" or "Mon cher". I've seen a lot of fanfics where he calls you these and I couldn't agree more.

if he is gone for multiple days or even weeks on a mission he would make sure to always bring you back something. Whether its some flowers, a small trinket, or your favorite snacks, he always brings you something as his way of saying, "I've missed you" or, "I was thinking about you".

Prior to and during the beginning stages of your relationship, Lyney would constantly ramble to Lynette about you or ask her for advice. A few years down the line, Lynette would randomly bring that up to you for the first time during a conversation out of nowhere.

NEUVILLETTE

I feel like he'd be very hesitant to be in a romantic relationship for a variety of reasons (him being a sovereign dragon, his longer lifespan, how busy he is with work, etc...). Under normal circumstances he would be the type to confess first but for these reasons I don't think he would. You would have to confess first and reassure him about his worries before he would accept your confession.

Gift giving would be his primary love language (quality time being a close second). Similarly to how he gives gifts to the Melusine's, he would give you personalized gifts based on things you like or are interested in. He also would love when you're relaxing in his office while he finishes his work, your presence brings comfort to him and helps reduce his stress.

He would be strict with you on some things but in a good way. He'd always make sure you are following the law, the last thing he wants is to have to put you on trial. He would also make sure you are taking good care of yourself both physically and mentally. "Have you eaten?" and "Did you sleep well?" are common questions he asks you. He may unintentionally come off as nagging but he just wants to make sure you are taking good care of yourself.

Crazy good at communication. He would always make sure to resolve disagreements or arguments between the two of you as soon as possible. You'd notice the never-ending downpour of rain outside whenever the two of you were arguing.

DILUC

His main love language would be acts of service, second being physical touch. Whether its opening the door for you, making your favorite coffee/tea in the morning, or making dinner for you, these little acts go a long way and show his love for you

Definitely wouldn't be big on PDA. Maybe some hand holding but that's about it. In the privacy of the Dawn Winery is a different story however. He would love when you sit next to and lean against him or sitting on his lap while he finishes paperwork with an arm wrapped around you.

Wouldn't necessarily vocalize his affections as much. Don't get me wrong he would tell you he loves you but would much prefer to show his love rather than just say it.

ALWAYS accompanies you on walks, especially at night. He wants to make sure that you don't run into any danger, and if you did he would instantly step in to protect you. He wouldn't let you get a single scrape.

Going off of the previous point, if you were to get hurt he would blame himself for not protecting you properly. Even if it was just a small scrape he would apologize profusely and even bring you a few gifts as an apology.

KAEYA

His love language would depend on the stage of the relationship. During the beginning stages it would be gift giving, but as the relationship progresses and more trust is built it would change into physical touch.

He would always pay for meals at restaurants. He may even get offended if you tried to pay /j.

He ADORES laying in bed with you while being tangled up in each other. He also isn't a morning person. If you tried to get up before him you would have to pry his arms off of you.

He would need a LOT of reassurance. He will never vocalize it but he stresses himself out constantly. However you would have to be subtle about it at first. He may slightly push you away if he knows that you know his thoughts. But you'd be able to be a little more blunt later on in the relationship once that trust is built.

He is very complicated. Having both trust and abandonment issues, he would struggle to trust you to not leave him. It would take time for him to trust you and even then he would still sometimes stress about you abandoning him like everyone else in his life.

Authors notes:

That's all! Idk how to feel about Kaeya's and Neuvillette's but I hope you liked them regardless. feel free to drop your own hcs, I'd love to read them. Please remember that these are my opinions and interpretations of the characters and its okay to disagree just please be respectful about it. Have a great day/night!