#and - unknowingly to him - they sort of are?

[strawberriederror]

🪺 Another post bc I don’t really like jumbling up so many pictures at once if they’re not able to be in a specific organization

Esp: Otro post pq me da cosa no tenerlos en una orden especifica 💔

[passerinesoncaffeine]

the irony of one the first main things established about omori as a character is that he's known for his great memory as if he hasn't lost the entire fucking plot repeatedly for years.

like he has a great memory!! if you don't take into account He's Actually The God Of Repression.

[t4tdanvis]

Dante an anarchist and Gene who’s dating the dictator god king of a dimension teaming up to kill some lady who was just trying to take care of her village

gene just wants to make dante happy and bond with him again. however hes about as good at it as a grandpa who doesnt understand anything about the New Generation™ trying to bond with his grandkid. shad is like "i need you to kill zane" and gene is like Woah this is the PERFECT opportunity to go bond with my brother!!! im going to get him to commit a murder with me im sure he'll really like that :)

[not-so-superheroine]

hmm. reminds me of someone.

[mywritersmind]

LITTLE SISTERS ARE UNKNOWINGLY GREAT MATCH MAKERS - KA12

summary : Girlhood is meeting a younger girl in a bathroom and giving her a friendship bracelet. You happen to get lucky when that little girls introduces you to the youngest driver on the grid.

listen up : no warnings!

words : 1212 (wow that’s crazy)

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“I like your dress.” A little girl says, her voice confident and clearly italian. I smile at her in the mirror before pulling my hands away from the sink and grabbing a towel.

I turn fully to her, her eyes big and brown, looking up at me in awe, “Thank you!” I throw the towel away as she smiles softly, “I like your headphones.” She's in white pants and a black jacket, the bright pink headphones around her neck.

She looks down when I say it, “Bit stupid.”

I shake my head as she backs away from the sink, “Never!” I reach into my purse and pull out my little earplugs that are in a clear case. She smiles at this.

I turn back to the mirror again, fixing my hair and applying my lipgloss. My eyes wander to the small girl who still resides next to me, looking at herself in the mirror and swiping on chapstick.

“You’re a mercedes fan?” I say.

She nods eagerly, pushing her lip balm into her pocket and touching her hat. “It’s my brother's team!” I smile at her enthusiasm, “Are you?”

“Not particularly…” As in George Rusell makes me uneasy and Kimi Antonelli is making me feel unaccomplished since we’re the same age. “I root for Mclaren.”

She seems a bit sad at this, but nods nonetheless. “Do you want a friendship bracelet?” I ask just before she goes to leave. She’s absolutely adorable and definitely a new friend (one i’ll probably never see again) but still, I take one of the beaded bracelets off my wrist and hand it to her.

It says, VROOM, with a tiny beaded F1 car that took me a whole hour to figure out how to make. “Wow!”

I stand up straighter, “I’m Y/n!”

“Maggie.” She says her name quick, her eyes unmoving from her wrist, the bracelet a tad too big. She finally looks up at me again when we both go to leave, “Thank you!”

We walk into the public area, the paddock not crowded for the first time all day, “I’m glad you like it.” I’m too focused on her little eyes lighting up to notice that a guy is staring at us. He pushes off the wall, walking towards us in a far too familiar way. Holy shit.

Maggie says something in italian.

She says something in italian directed to the guy.

The guy who also happens to be Kimi Antonelli.

Kimi smiles at the girl as it all dawns on me. Oh fuck. When she said, ‘it’s my brother's team’ she didn’t just mean that he supports them. She meant he drives for them!

He tugs at her hat so it goes over her eyes as she groans and elbows him, “No wonder you took so long, making friends?”

Maggie nods, saying something in Italian and raising her wrist so Kimi can see her bracelet. He nods, probably not interested but he smiles at her.

Then he smiles at me.

“Did you make it yourself?” His accent is smooth yet his demeanor is still boyish.

I laugh awkwardly, “Uh yeah, sorry I didn’t make any Mercedes ones.” He shrugs it off.

“Black and teal gets boring!” Maggie cuts in, still admiring her bracelet under Kimi’s arm, “I like pink!” Kimi and I look at eachother, smiling at the younger girls' excitement. She clearly gets distracted when she sees an older woman, promptly running away and yelling, “Mama!”

Kimi laughs, not making a move to leave, “I think this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her all weekend.” He slips his hands into his pockets, smiling at me. Christ he’s cute.

“Honestly she’s made my weekend.” I swipe a piece of hair from my face, “I’m sure she was more excited about her brother’s big F1 debut than a bracelet.” I scoff as he laughs.

“I don’t know…” He looks at Maggie, her hair bobbing up and down as she shows their mom her new jewelry. “Show her pink and she sort of gravitates…”

I smile, “Is she an Alpine fan then?”

He shakes his head, still smiling shyly, “I won’t let that happen.” When I don’t say anything, he sways, “Are you? An Alpine fan, I mean…”

I shake my head, looking down at my light pink dress, “Nah… just hate wearing bright orange.”

He nods, “Oh! I’m Kimi, by the way.”

I hold back a grin, “I know… I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” I think my heart skips a beat when he says my name, “Thanks for being so nice to my sister.”

“No problem, she’s adorable!”

Maggie comes up to us again, “Could you teach me how to make one?”

Kimi raises a brow, “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t just carry beads with her, Mag.”

I blush, “Actually… I do, and I can totally try!”

She runs off again, leaving Kimi and I, “She’s really sweet, though she might not want my help with the beads… I made one and gave up like two hours in.”

He laughs, “She referred to you as ‘pretty girl’ when she told me you gave her a bracelet, so I'm pretty sure she already loves you no matter if you can recreate it or not.” I laugh a bit when he says this, my cheeks are probably already red.

“I remember being like that with every older girl I encountered.” It’s true, every little girl I see I just want to cry because of how much I loved being that young.

“Yeah well she’s got good instincts.” his tongue runs over his bottom lip, “How old are you?”

“Eighteen… you know, my mom found out you were driving this year and made me get a job!” He’s laughing harder now.

“Shit… I'm sorry. What were you forced into?”

“Well, it’s not bad.” I shrug, “I intern at McLaren actually. My mom’s a driver manager.” His eyebrows go up, nodding at my words.

“So you get to travel with the drivers?” He looks almost… hopeful.

I nod, “Basically. I want to work in F1 media so it’s hopefully getting me used to my future.”

“That’s really cool.” Honestly if it were any other teenage boy saying that, I wouldn’t believe him. But something about Kimi Antonelli tells me that he doesn’t half ass anything, even his words.

“Yeah…” I bite my lip, swaying on my feet.

“Hey! Um before you go…” He pulls out his phone, “Can I get your number?” I raise a brow instinctively, “For Maggie!” I try not to frown, taking the phone and typing in my number and name, “And maybe… for dinner sometime? I fly to China right after this.”

I bite back a smile, “That’d be fun, I go straight there after the race.”

I think he’s… blushing? “Right. Well uh… maybe I can convince you that black and teal are right for you.”

“If you take me out and try to convert me from papaya, I will never let you forget it!” I threaten as he starts walking away backwards.

“Yeah I'm planning on that, pretty.” He bites his lip, nodding and leaving. I roll my eyes and walk away, my cheeks pink and my smile wide.

[uisceb]

Okay I want to talk about this moment between Morrible and Glinda for a sec because it adds such a wonderfully sinister layer to a scene that is otherwise a triumphant defining moment for Elphaba, and it sets up the dynamics for Part 2 so perfectly.

At this point, we are in the thick of “Defying Gravity.” Everyone’s attention is on Elphaba - and rightfully so, she’s up there declaring war on the Wizard, displaying incredible feats of magic, of course everyone’s attention is on her.

…Everyone, except Morrible.

Morrible has realized that Plan A was a bust, but rather than panicking, she’s already worked over Plans B through Z in her head and has realized that Glinda, not Elphaba, is actually the key figure here. Glinda is actually the best thing that could have happened to them.

Mind you, Morrible hates Glinda. She thinks Glinda is vapid and attention-seeking and completely without talent. It would be extremely easy for her to brand Glinda as an accomplice to Elphaba, have the guards drag her off, imprison her, never have to deal with her again, nice and neat.

Instead, while everyone else is focused on Elphaba, Morrible only has eyes for Glinda. She zeroes in on her, releases her, and comforts her, because she understands what no one else understands, which is that yes, that’s great that the Wizard now has an enemy to unify his people against, but they also need a symbol of hope, something that is the exact antithesis to Elphaba, something to keep everyone at extremes. 

The Wizard himself can’t really be a symbol of hope, because the key to his success is that he remains shrouded in mystery, and yes people think he’s wonderful, but there’s a level of uncertainty and intimidation to him. He is Oz the Great and Terrible, and everyone’s preeeeeetty sure he’s a good guy, but if you have someone like Elphaba out there - who Morrible knows from experience is very smart, very articulate, and has her own sort of magnetism - there’s a potential that she could turn at least enough people against the Wizard to make things very inconvenient.

So what they need, now that they have an enemy, is to have an equally magnetic figurehead representing the Wizard who embodies all these one-dimensional ideas of goodness, someone for the public to adore and fawn over so the association between Wizard and Goodness is crystal clear.

And by bringing Glinda along, Elphaba has unknowingly served that figurehead up on a platter.

Glinda is everything Elphaba isn’t, from personality, to appearance - Morrible has already set Elphaba up by calling her green skin an “outward manifestorium of her twisted nature,” which paves the way for Glinda, who is the perfect conventional beauty, to be an “outward manifestorium” of pure goodness. 

Morrible realizes they need these two lightning rods of Absolute Evil and Absolute Good in order to manipulate people - fear alone isn’t enough; the only way to effectively radicalize the populace is to make sure there is no gray area whatsoever, no room for question: you're either good, or you’re evil. And the Wizard alone isn’t a strong enough representation of “goodness” when by virtue of existing, he has to remain in the shadows. Glinda on the other hand? With her looks and her charm and her openness and her ability to expertly win over a crowd? Perfect for the role.

Now the tricky part for Morrible is taking into consideration that Glinda and Elphaba love each other. But we also know from earlier scenes that Morrible is a master at manipulating emotions. Right from the start when Elphaba is having trouble with her magic, Morrible casually brings up the “Animals should be seen and not heard” disturbance from class, spoon-feeding her just enough to get Elphaba upset, triggering her magic, after which Morrible makes sure to give her assurance and praise to keep Elphaba optimistic about her power.

She’s also aware that Glinda does have quite a bit of influence over Elphaba, because when Elphaba flees, Morrible immediately tasks her with winning her over, rather than simply relying on the guards or even going after Elphaba herself. She knows if anyone has a chance at roping Elphaba back in, it's Glinda.

Obviously, Glinda isn’t successful in getting her back, but while this puts a dent in Morrible’s plans to get control of Elphaba, it does give her an extra weak spot to exploit in Glinda.

So now, at the height of “Defying Gravity” when Elphaba has officially taken her stand against them, Morrible sees Glinda, and Glinda is at her most vulnerable, her most emotionally fragile. Not only is she heartbroken and in shock, she’s also just witnessed in real time exactly how easy it is to turn an entire nation against someone. She’s scared, she’s powerless. She’s just lost the love of her life her only friend, she has no one to turn to - Morrible has definitely picked up on the fact that even though Glinda has countless people who fawn over her, none of them can be considered a true friend except for Elphaba, which means Glinda is completely isolated. Glinda also has a very limited understanding of the bigger picture of what the Wizard is trying to accomplish, and because she’s never been a victim of the system the way Elphaba has, she is still desperately clinging to the idea that everything will be okay as long as she plays by the rules of the people in power.

She has been perfectly primed for Morrible to begin manipulating, not through violence or intimidation, but by offering her comfort when no one else would - when not even Glinda’s only friend would - when no one else is even paying attention to Glinda, because they have the very real and present threat of Elphaba quite literally hanging over them. In this moment, Morrible chooses Glinda, which Glinda has been striving for since the beginning. Elphaba has chosen her principles, the Wizard has chosen his enemy, but Morrible has chosen Glinda, and in this moment of being so alone and so afraid and so betrayed, that makes all the difference.

We also get kind of a parallel shot too - Elphaba really sealed her fate the second her hand closed around the broom. But here, Glinda seals her fate when she gives in and reciprocates Morrible’s hold on her.

THIS is the moment that sets us up for Part 2, with Elphaba and Glinda as our lightning rods for Absolute Evil and Absolute Good, but more to the point, it makes it clear that they’ve BOTH been used, they’ve BOTH played right into these respective roles Morrible and the Wizard need in order to be successful - even if it wasn’t how Morrible originally planned for things to go.

I just love it, because “Defying Gravity” is Elphaba’s song - it’s triumphant, and it’s heartbreaking, and it’s everything a defining moment should be for a character. But by injecting this little moment between Morrible and Glinda into the scene, we also get an underlying current of dread because we know we’re about to see the consequences of Elphaba’s defiance versus Glinda’s compliance and how both serve to benefit the Wizard/Morrible’s propaganda.

TL;DR - when I said "I want to talk about this scene between Morrible and Glinda for a sec" I clearly meant "I'm gonna write a whole essay. Like a nerd."

[umamaki]

Caleb who is just so fucking big that he has trouble physically fitting into your life. He’s as buff as he is tall, and as hot as it makes him, it’s becoming an inconvenience to you both. Good luck having him over if you own anything less than a king bed. Despite the amount of times his weight alone has split the bedframe, you still haven’t upgraded your sleeping situation. Even laying on his side he’s taking up more than half your mattress. You will typically lay on top of him, but even that gets uncomfortable after a while. Especially after he’s just fucked you to oblivion, assuredly leaving your entire lower half sore for the next day or three. You’ll wake up in the morning somehow underneath him, being suffocated from his huge biceps having unknowingly wrapping themselves around your small frame. Not to mention that his shoulders alone practically measure the width of your shower. He’s just too big. You don’t even entertain the idea of shower sex at your apartment. The glass panes let you watch him struggle to bend down to just get his head under the showerhead, and you feel like some sort of voyer watching him. It’s perverted, it’s creepy. Yet it’s extremely arousing, the way he barely fits into a shower you use so comfortably. And all you can do is watch him and wait until he comes out to finally satisfy your heat.

[writing-munchies]

NSFW HC'S— Dorian, Doug & Dunk x GN!Reader (MDNI)

A/N: Sometimes horniness from a tiktok edit over a dateable door makes you write so much smut that your fingers are aching. Sorry for any mistakes as English isn't my first language:-]

EDIT: a huge chunk of Dunk's part was missing that i didn't paste from the goodle doc i wrote this in... this is so embarrassing🥀

I've also decided to take requests, im working on finishing the game and im quite there! i dont mind writing just about anything so, go ahead! Mailbox is open!

WC: 2.3K

Dorian

He’s most likely going to be the initiator, especially after you’re both in a relationship. He is still hesitant with his boundaries not really being respected in his previous relationships, but when he’s all in on you when the relationship starts, he will willingly give himself to you, fully trusting of you. No questions asked, he knows you’ll respect his decisions, and that means more than the world to him. Which, in turn, makes him more inclined to initiate sexual or romantic encounters.

Every time you brush up against Dorian when walking around the house, throwing him a wink when you do so… to say he’s turned on would be an understatement. He’s relatively easy to rile up when he feels secure in your relationship.

Once he realizes how much you squirm when he talks real close to your ear, it’s over. He won’t stop doing it, he’ll be hips flush against each other kinda deep inside of you, not moving, just teasing you by talking breathlessly into your ear, “You like that feeling, love? Want more?” when you whine out his name, too sensitive to speak properly, he just chuckles and that makes you shiver; much to his delight. Though, every time you do shiver, moan or whine you can feel his cock throb inside you, his breathing gets jagged, and his self-control gets that much closer to cracking. 

Durable. Actually loves cock-warming but gets impatient when you won’t stop squirming on his lap so, he holds you by the waist and fucks into you with almost all the strength he can muster, you’re a delicate thing compared to him after all; whatever your size may be. He can hold off on an orgasm just fine, just so you can cum before him, it feeds his ego like you wouldn’t believe. Making you cum before him is a must, you’ll cum at least 2 times before he even thinks of letting that tight knot snap and fill you up in every way possible. He’s a patient man, he’ll wait for hours if it means you’ll be a crying mess under him.

This man loves getting his dick sucked. Whichever Dorian. Though front door Dorian seems to be exceptionally sensitive compared to others. You’ve never seen him so flushed as he is when his dick is in your mouth. You looking up at him with those pretty eyes has his dick harder than he ever thought possible. It’s sort of this rush of power too, like you’re his owner, practically his boss, and here you are, his dick in your mouth and moaning for him to cum down your throat- it makes him cum embarrassingly fast.

Whenever you’re naked in the shower or your room, he has to do everything to hide his very obvious boner from the other objects around. Especially if you, unknowingly so, accidentally brush up on him just as you’re out of the shower? God, he’d never think about neglecting his duty, but you’re wearing his patience thin.

A lover at heart. Loves foreplay, but he’s just been so deprived of you all this time that he’s yearning heart and body just can’t help but pounce on you with every opportunity you present him with. Be open with him, even if your shyness kills you, tell him to fuck you ‘till you’re crying, tell him to fill you up so fucking full that it gushes out of you with every thrust— directness turns him on so much.

Loves seeing you all tied up and pathetically helpless— completely at his mercy. He’s been the one protecting you all this time without faltering for a second, so you willing to be the most vulnerable you can be consciously with him, he can’t help but feast on every breath, every shiver and every moan you let out.

The biggest freak is trap door Dorian though, without a doubt. He’s never seen you half naked, let alone fully naked. When you show yourself to him for the first time, all the blood rushed to his dick, and he has to keep his composure. Though, his flushed face and breathless tone of voice really don’t help to hide it. Worships your body like it’s an art piece, loves playing with your nipples the most, though. Just the way you squirm and your hold on his hair tightens makes him groan with that husky voice of his.

I think the en suite Dorian (bedroom bathroom Dorian), loves a handjob more than anything else. Loves watching the way your fingers play with and tease his dick to hardness, the same fingers that touch him every day without thought working to make him cum? Ultimate fantasy of his, actually.

The one that wants to fuck you ‘till you forget your own name is bedroom door Dorian. He has seen you in your most vulnerable states, every whimper that you let out when you’re masturbating just gets his whole body so hot he has to stop himself from replacing your fingers with his own or his mouth. When given the green light, he won’t let you go until you’re a crying, full-with-cum mess. His thrusts are deep, cock head brushing against your sweet spot non-stop, making your vision dance with stars as he grunts and nibbles on your ear. His hands will massage your ass and thighs as he’s fucking into you, too, a grounding touch helping you to not zone out and feel everything that he’s doing to you.

Aftercare? He will do his best, and he is amazing at it! He will hold you in his arms, his scent developing your senses as he peppers kisses along your back and nape, his hands massaging your hips and ass non-stop as he asks you if you want water or if you want him to clean you up right away. Very considerate of your needs, 10/10. 

Doug

Do not be fooled by the way he talks and how he speaks, this man is all in on for being dominated. Though he prefers to say, “making him your bitch”, it’s the same thing anyway.

Horny for you 24/7, literally always ready if you are. When he sees that look in your eyes and how your tone changes when you speak to him, he already popped a boner.

Insatiable freak, loves going at it for round after round, for hours and hours. Tie him up and milk his cock with your mouth, hand or hole, make him a mess, and he’ll thank you for it, call him a good boy, and he’ll cum on the spot.

Tie him up and shove his cock down your throat, slap his thigh when he can’t help but thrust his hips up into the tight heat of your mouth- the way your tongue drags over that one vein on his dick makes him moan out your name and his thighs stiff up with self-control as he tries to just not fuck your face ‘till he paints your mouth white.

Loves picking you up and cornering you by pressing your back to the wall you keep looking at when you want to meet him, he just wants to fuck your brains out in the place you first met! Isn’t that romantic?

When you two first have sex, he’ll try to have this nonchalant attitude, but it crumbles easily when you moan his name so lovingly as he’s fingering you open to take his cock. Despite how he comes across at first he really is careful with you, he knows he is way stronger than you, so he tries to relax the hold he has on your hips as you’re riding him with that lovesick look on your face that has his cock throb and leak pre inside you.

His biggest fantasy is you being on your phone as he’s fucking you, maybe playing your favorite game, trying to win a match or trying to progress as every thrust just shakes or makes you shiver. He’d tell you to go on, you can’t cum if you don’t achieve your objective, he’ll fill you however times he wants, you can cry and beg however long you want, you aren’t cumming ‘till you complete that objective.

Loves taking you by the chin after he just came in your mouth, tells you to open up and feels his cock get full on hard again just at the sight of you with your tongue—covered in his cum— out, tugs you closer and bends down to kiss you, sucking on your tongue and tasting himself as he groans into your mouth. Your little shivers just spur him on more.

Ride him and tell him he isn’t allowed to cum ‘till you tell him to. When he inevitably fails to do so, he just can’t help it, the way you squeeze down on his dick like you’re trying to milk him out of every last drop is hard to resist for a being like him, overstimulate him and don’t get off of his dick ‘till he’s crying and begging you to stop and keep going at the same time.

He does jerk off, a lot. Especially to the photos of you, hell even when you’re just moving around the house, and he catches a glimpse of your armpits, inner thighs or your nipples? He’s stroking his dick and will take a video for you to show t to you later, he is shameless about anything to do with sex.

Aftercare? Well he doesn’t like to clean himself up right away, especially if it’s after a particularly long session, he’ll take a photo of his dick now covered in cum, he’ll take a photo of your sex and your whole body to jerk off to later and admire, then you’ll get to aftercare. He tries when he’s with you, but you’re going to be the one that ultimately takes acre of him, if you’re genuinely so tired out he will do his best, although stiff, he is trying his best.

Dunk

For the love of all things holy, be straightforward as you can with this man. He is great at sex, but he is bad at picking up innuendos and hints.

Will worship your body no matter how you look like or how you weigh, he is in love with you, in awe of you, he’ll kiss along your back, down your chest and your inner thighs all the while murmuring about how perfect you feel against him, how his skin on yours makes everything feel electric.

He feels the same rush he has when he’s trying out a new sport as he’s having sex with you, that makes you an addiction he’ll never want to put down.

The way you slam your hips against his when he’s being a little too gentle, and you just want him to fuck your brains out. Oh, he can do that, very well. His favorite position to turn you into a blabbering mess is full nelson, the way he can just fuck into you and feel your every moan and groan on his chest as his dick hits that sweet spot over and over again while you’re crying out his name is nothing short of an addicting adrenaline rush.

He also loves the mating press, just any position where he can use his weight and stamina to fuck into you, feel everything your body has to offer as you sing his praises with loud moans and cries of his name, fuck he can’t get enough. Maybe ask him about why he loves it when you use that fitness ball. It can’t be possibly because he can just feel every second of your crotch, ass, and thighs rubbing against him, sometimes even with your full weight? Of course not(!)

Loves giving oral pleasure the most, actually; take a fist full of his hair—what you presume that is, anyway—and thrust into his mouth/grind your sex down on his mouth. He loves being used for your pleasure, the fact that he is so durable that hours of sex won’t wear him down makes him the perfect toy to fuck yourself with.

He cums a lot, and I mean, a lot. He has to thrust at least six more times as he’s cumming inside you just to ride it out, even as it’s gushing out of you and making a mess. Will be licking your sex clean off of any cum, yes he will ask to make out, yes he wants you to suck on his tongue and taste both of you.

Loves a strip tease, too. Whether he does it or you, loves to watch you more actually, especially if you’re visibly aroused, his mouth always starts watering when your underwears finally off.

Dry humper. Loves to grind down on you, feel you squirm and beg for him to just touch you, loves to feel how your thighs tense as you cum just from humping him;

If you’re AMAB, he will purposefully grind down his hard-on on yours, just to feel it twitch and throb against his own. Will tease you if he sees the evidence of pre-cum already leaking, as if his dick isn’t wet already from his.

If you’re AFAB, he loves to just grind down ‘til he can feel the wetness through the fabric, rubbing against you just so that his boner presses down anywhere close to your clit to watch you shiver.

1000/10 aftercare, you will never catch this man lacking in that department. Big, secure, warm cuddles as he wraps all of his limbs around you, if you complain about the fluids he’ll tell you to give him 5 minutes, he just wants to bask in the afterglow. Definitely snuck some water into the room to give you some after or during sex, peppers kisses all over your face and affirms his love for you with words and gentle touches.

[ominousgradient]

Actually if we're going down that route: What if Snotlout is left handed, Spitelout made him write with his right hand and that's part of why he doesn't enjoy reading and writing as a teen

Yes it's loser nerd shit no real viking wastes their time with but it also brings to mind memories of discomfort and admonishment, plus his writing looks all smudged and crooked anyway so why should he bother

In general I think Snotlout struggles with reading/writing. He's not illiterate but he wasn't encouraged to engage with books during his formative years so now he lacks behind. When he landed his first axe throw his dad raised a toast to him during dinner, when he showed him his lettering practice he didn’t even glance over, so from a young age it was made clear what Snotlout ought to focus on. No one punished him for reading but the mere tone of distain his father had whenever he spoke of "booksmart" people devalued any literacy skills in Snotlouts eyes.

Once they've properly settled on the edge Snotlout begins to get into creative writing and finally feels free to write with his left so his skills slowly improve (personally I'd like to think that part of why the riders praise his book sm is because they saw how much work Snotlout put into this project and want to encourage him to keep at it but that's just me)

Snotlout also goes out of his way to learn my ocs native language. She doesn't mind speaking english (or old norse ig) with him but doing so even though he struggles with reading makes her appreachiate his efforts all the more :)

Headcanon that Snotlout is left handed so his writing is always a little smudged and you can tell when he's been doodling/working on his book cause he'll have some charcoal resedue left on his hand

[pomefioredove]

overblots and rollo with a reader who flirts a lot unknowingly? like they see it as friendly teasing or just genuinely giving someone a compliment they don’t think of it as romantic. (their reaction to you accidentally flirting with them or. someone else and they start seething perhaps?!)

oh... I'm guilty of this (｡- .•)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ accidental flirting

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus, rollo ~☆ additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

it's not like Riddle's fellow students have never complimented him, but this is different. his academic achievement is not like... what had you said? the color of his eyes?

no one would be so bold as to compliment his physical features, let alone call them "beautiful" ... no one except for you, of course

you seemed rather confused when his whole face turned red. hopefully, you won't think about it too much...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

what was that? Leona looks nice when he dresses up? well, aren't you the flatterer? go on, then, say something else. he's listening!

Leona knows you didn't mean it that way, but that makes it even better. smug bastard. and it gives him the go ahead to flirt back, without you even realizing! if you weren't such a clueless little herbivore, he'd think you were trying to get something out of him... but you're you, so he knows you mean it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you're so strange. you're definitely just mirroring Azul's body language and flattery, but you're being genuine, too... you're so socially awkward, it's making you a flirt. he's trying to butter you up for a deal, not a date!

...well... he was, anyway

now he's got to figure out how exactly to flirt back in a way that'll sound genuine coming from him...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

is it unconscious? are you teasing? or have you suddenly become a flirt overnight? Jamil is having a difficult time reading the room, which is unusual for him. the way you've been complimenting him, batting those pretty eyelashes of yours, is... distracting, to say the least

...he could also be reading too much into this. maybe he just needs a nap

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil simply can't pass up the opportunity. can you blame him? there you are, looking adorable as per usual, telling him all this nonsense about how lucky his future partner will be, blah, blah...

and you're clueless. it's endearing, really. he'll call you sweet and leave you with a kiss on the cheek

something to think about for later ;3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

are you trying to send Idia to an early grave??? of course, the one time he lets Ortho drag him outside, there you are, as cutesy and... sunshine-y as ever, telling him you like his hair with a smile. and what does he say?

"uh- um- uh-"

great work, everyone. he'll work on that

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

fae courting is... strange. you know this. you don't know all of it, though. so when you tell Malleus you've planted some Briar Valley flora around Ramshackle for him... he sort of takes it as a vow. it's basically like a promise ring to him

he's all sunshine and rainbows for the rest of the week, much to everyone else's confusion

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rollo will hit you with the most unamused look you've gotten in your entire life, politely tell you to be decent, thank you, and then leave to lie in bed and think about your future wedding for the rest of the day. that's just the kinda guy he is

[apatheticsunday]

Graveyard Favors

AKA "The Lazarus Pit doesn't exist and Jason Todd crawls out of his grave. Only for a huge, red-eyed dog to escort him to the Ghost King, who apologies for making him a zombie. But, uh, I can kill your murderer for you?" prompt!

(Also known as Grimm!Cujo plays fetch with a Zombie Robin and Danny's just trying to undo a really, really bad clerical error.)

I like the idea of Cujo playing as a sort of Church Grimm, Charon (Ferryman of the Styx River in the Underworld), and Cerberus. He protects graves, guides the dead, and is Danny's personal guard dog to the entrance of the Infinite Realms. There are portals in every graveyard across the Realms because ghosts typically haunt where their bodies are. The King's servants collect the ghosts from Earth graves and safely into the Ghost Zone.

But what happens when a ghost re-enters its original dead body?? Do the servants just... shrug it off, say it's an Earth problem? Or do they do the workplace equivalent of going to the manager? I like the idea that it's actually Danny's fault and he's scrambling to keep it under wraps, to not do any worse of a job than he already is (he's still young for a Ghost King, he's going to make a lot of mistakes early on, right?).

Maybe Danny wasn't paying attention to his paperwork, had been stamping documents with his Royal Seal without really reading it, and Clockwork slipped in an Undead Appeal form in Danny's pile to teach him a lesson. The Appeal is for one Jason Todd-Wayne, located in a small plot in Gotham City.

So, Danny does what any person trying to undo a really bad mistake does. He says, "Don't worry about it, I'm taking care of it!" Except it's literally a human being he reanimated after being dead for several months. He's utterly terrified he's created the first of an unstoppable zombie plague or he's going to Ghost Jail for unknowingly violating the Geneva Convention of the Ghost Zone. Either way, Danny knows he has to handle this himself.

And there's Jason, leaning against a wolf-sized Cujo, at the foot of his grave. He looks... lost. Exhausted, alone. And Danny's like, oh, Hells, I did that. That's my fault. Cujo snuffles worriedly against Jason's face.

"Jason? Jason Todd?" Danny calls out. He wonders belatedly if he should've worn his High King of Infinite Realms attire, but he's still in Tucker's ratty Amity-Uni sweater and ripped jeans. Jason looks up at him from where he's now slouched against Cujo, slowly inching his way closer to the ground.

"I-my name's Danny. I'm-"

"Hospital," Jason rasps, nearly fully on the ground now. And oh, yeah, being freshly undead probably isn't as easy as switching between human and Ghost. Hells, what was he thinking? So, Danny finds himself in the Gotham Hospital waiting room as Jason's being treated and he's sitting there thinking about how to reintroduce himself. He can't be a stuttering, unsure mess when he's admitting to a grave error. Would Jason even believe him? Probably not, right?

That's how Jason Todd wakes up to the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead next to his beside.

Danny admits his mistake, apologizes, and offers a Royal Boon in the form of an unbreakable vow. Anything his zombie needs or wants, the High King will provide. He probably should've expected it when Jason immediately says he wants to murder the Joker, brutally, painfully. Personally.

It's surprisingly easy to sign a Death Warrant.

(Later, after the Joker's prolonged and agonizing death is reported by the Gotham News, Jason asks Danny for money. Danny's like?? I already helped you avenge your murder?? And Jason just guilt-trips the ever-loving shit out of him. You brought me back from the dead a penniless and homeless zombie, you even said you'd provide for me, but now you're takin' it back?? Are you a fuckin' liar?? Danny's like, no, you're right, I'm so, so, so sorry, here's like 20k in Ancient Gold. Cue side-story of Danny unintentionally becoming Jason "Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss" Todd's sugar daddy.)

[icecream4starscream]

Spoiler Warning for Transformers One. Please go see the film, it's great.

Something occurred to me when rewatching Elita-1's firing scene:

Right off the bat, she's presented as an absolute unit in the mines. We see her being a very by-the-book character. She's incredibly competent, strong, serious, focused, and an effective leader.

Maybe a little too effective.

We learn that Sentinel goes out of his way to personally take care of any "anomalies" in his system and does so in a way where the blame always gets shifted away from him.

It's why he personally went to see Pax and D-16 after the Iacon 5000 race. He makes himself out to be the open-minded, compassionate leader he's been parading as.

When Darkwing throws Orion and D-16 into sub-level 50, neither bot suspects Sentinel for their demotion. In fact, they beg Darkwing to talk to Sentinel so he can sort out the "misunderstanding".

It's later confirmed that Sentinel never had any intention of talking with Orion or D-16 after their first meeting. When Orion reunites with his fellow miners later in the film, they mention that Sentinel put out a statement saying that they both died from "racing injuries".

Sentinel might've not even openly ordered Darkwing to dispose of them. Darkwing might've been manipulated into thinking everyone was mocking him for losing the race (thanks to lowly miners) making him want to get rid of them.

Subconsciously manipulating someone like Darkwing would've been easy for Sentinel.

Sentinel clearly does not tolerate anyone rising above the station he imposes on them.

So what does this have to do with Elita-1 being fired?

We see her rigidly following the rules, meeting all quotas, running a tight and efficient crew. She's doing her job as a miner, a role unknowingly forced upon her by Sentinel, perfectly.

Shouldn't Sentinel be happy about that?

Well sure...

If Elita wasn't actively trying to get promoted.

We don't get a lot of information about how promotion works in TFOne's mining system, but we do know that in other iterations of pre-war Cybertron, one of the only ways miners could rise out of the mines was by participating in ridiculously difficult gladiatorial fights in Kaon's pits.

In other iterations, this was how D-16/Megatron was able to escape his station and how he grew to be so strong.

So basically, whatever version you look at, the miners are told "if you work really, reeeeally hard, and do your job perfectly, and don't die in the process (which, odds are, you will) you might, MIGHT get a chance to get out of the caste you were born into."

It's BS.

It's an impossible feat. No one is actually supposed to be able to achieve that goal, but it's the metaphorical carrot dangling in front of the work mules so they don't notice the ever-tightening rope around their necks.

But every so often there's someone extraordinary, like Elita, who actually manages to meet this impossible standard and with whom it becomes increasingly difficult to deny this coveted promotion.

So what can Sentinel do about bots like Elita-1?

Simple.

Wait for a screw-up.

It must happen eventually.

A member of Elita's team, Orion Pax, in clear violation of evacuation protocol, goes back into the mines to save Jazz from getting crushed to death.

Despite managing to escape, the closing mine causes a tunnel support to be flung into nearby machinery (which doesn't look critical and could probably be easily fixed).

Then, right the heck outta nowhere, Darkwing drops in, SECONDS AFTER THE INCIDENT JUST HAPPENED, and immediately fires Elita.

No "What happened?" or "Who's responsible?" or "The supervisor wants to see you", he just pops into the scene and demotes Elita, arguably one of the best workers in the mine, to a bottom-tier waste management position.

As if he'd been on standby, actively waiting for a reason to fire her.

"But Elita herself wasn't the one who screwed up!"

Doesn't matter.

"But she told them to follow protocol!"

Doesn't matter.

"But Orion admitted he was the one at fault!"

Doesn't matter.

"But a bot was saved! Jazz would've died!"

Does. Not. MATTER.

Her firing is presented as the typical "one character says thing won't happen then thing immediately happens" joke, but given how so much thought went into so much of TFOne's background details, I can't help but wonder if this was a hint to how broken the system was and how it was always rigged in a way that ensures the miners will never get out.

Not to mention, once Orion, D-16, and Jazz safely escape, she chews Orion out by saying, "If I get fired for this..." meaning this abrupt, out-of-nowhere, baseless firing is absolutely typical.

That's what makes Elita's "I'm better than you" speech to Orion that much more meaningful, because in many ways, she is better than him.

She's a better worker, better fighter, better at completing the task at hand, better at making sure things run smoothly. She is, ironically enough, an efficient and perfectly-running machine.

But had Orion not dragged Elita to the surface, she probably would've spent her whole life obediently following the rules, never questioning why things were the way they were. She was so focused on rising up within the system that she could never look beyond it.

Elita might be the cog by which other cogs turn.

But Orion is the spark that shows them a better way.

That's why he was given the Matrix.

[thearcherbrothersx]

Declan's brows rose just a tad, expression otherwise flat, and then he very simply, with factual clarity, said "No. You won't." And to anyone else, it might have sounded like a threat. Maybe it was one, or at least it brushed against the very line of being one, because the truth of the matter was, Declan wasn't going to let her leave him like that ever again. And if she tried, with his child in her belly - or on her arm - she'd get to see a very, very different side of him. He knew this about himself, but he also knew she'd have to push him much farther than she had up until now for that to happen, and right now the certainty that she wouldn't softened the edge of his tone enough that it came out more as a soft command than a threat. She was right though; everything was going to be different now. His lips quirked at her little joke about punishment, and he gave her a subtly amused, knowing little look, but let his silence answer her.

"No?" He repeated the word as a question tainted with mild surprise and maybe a hint of indignation, but his lips lips curled upwards, and he let out a low little grunt of amusement. "Very well, darling." The tip of his thumb brushed against the very tip of her lower lip, the point just before it gave way to her chin. "I've been trying to spare you the pressure of my public life." Probably what he should have told her that evening. "I maintain a very carefully curated image, as you know, and you, my angel, are anything but carefully curated." His smile deepened a little, more so from the warmth in his gaze than from any change on his lips.

"As it appears I rather enjoy that about you, I've had no pressing desire to squeeze you into a box you don't belong in. To tamper your energy, and polish you into a pretty little trophy for me to trot around a party." Marcus' words from a few weeks ago, the last time they'd spoken on this matter - before that night. "And that is what's going to happen, Cora, it is what has to happen, if you'd like to be my - as you put it - 'forever date'." His gaze had grown increasingly intent, a bit of tension surfacing. His hand left her chin in order to seek her jaw, cupping the side of her face gently. "So I suppose the larger question is whether you're prepared for that."

It felt so nice to hear it, that he had missed her. It was something Cora struggled with - the idea that when she was gone, people noticed, felt her absence. It had never occurred to her that she mattered that much to anyone. It sounded sad, and it probably was, but that feeling was what had always made leaving so easy. It was just a little, but hearing that he missed her made her regret leaving.

"I won't do that again." It was surrender, admitting her own fault. "Leaving, I mean. I didn't need to come all this way to take space. I promise if we have an issue, I won't just bolt like that." Because some people might judge Declan's rigidity, his need for structure; and she often pushed and straight up broke those boundaries, but at the end of the day, she saw it for what it was - comfort in control. And she loved him enough to give him that. And it was now, as he was standing here with her in one of her safe places that she'd realized how much she'd disrupted things. Another little white flag and she teased, "If you need to punish me, I absolutely understand." Oh no! Not a punishment! That would be horrible!!

"Thank you," She sighed out softly, relief flooding her as he pulled her back toward him. For the first time since she'd left, she relaxed, and she felt better, like a weight was easing off of her, like she could breathe a little easier. "I know you will. Of course you will." That was always her answer - when Caleb had brought it up, when Goldie had questioned her, Cora's always emphasized how safe, how utterly secure she felt with him. "No." So rarely did she flat out tell him no, but here they were. "You can tell Lily what you want. I'll use what I want until you tell me otherwise." Because she wasn't making that choice. She wasn't going to go from the affectionate, kind, playful, but detached relationship she had with Lily to making that decision so quickly. That felt like a trap, felt dangerous. That, and Cora was still certain that he wouldn't want people to know about them. After all, what would this look like to others? But she couldn't have that conversation again, not right now, needed a little peace. As he tilted her chin, studying her, Cora eyed him, a brow raised. "A doctor will ask. People will ask. They shouldn't, it's not their business, but when they see that I'm expectin', they're gonna wanna talk about us and you and me . And I don't know if I should do that... Or what's okay for me to say. And that makes me nervous. So please? Help?"

[nadvs]

the power play (part three)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

< prev

Rafe is waiting for you in front of your building, this time to take you to a frat party.

“Hi,” you say cheerfully, settling into his passenger seat, “for the third day in a row.”

Apparently, Emma always goes to these parties, and since Beck is friends with a lot of the frat’s members, you’re almost certain he’ll go, too.

You’re also meeting Lyla there. She’s been open-minded about Rafe. You hope he doesn’t make her regret it.

“You’re going to have to be nice tonight,” you say, then shut the door with a hard thud.

“Why?”

“Because my best friend will be there and I want her to like you.”

Rafe stares ahead, his mood plummeting. He doesn’t want to deal with this.

He didn’t care what Emma’s friends thought about him, until she started bringing up how much they don’t like him. You’re not even his real girlfriend, and the thought of being subject to that sort of judgement again makes his blood run hot.

He drives out onto the road. You wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t.

“Don’t tell me you’re already mad about something,” you say with a quiet laugh. “What’s up?”

You haven’t even been in his car for half a minute and you’re already trying to open up his wounds again, clueless to the fact that you’re reminding him of the things he wants to forget.

“What am I supposed to say to her?” Rafe murmurs.

“Just be polite,” you reply. “And act like you like me.”

He tensley rakes a hand through his hair. Something’s off with him. He’s never had to ask you how to navigate this.

“Are you nervous?” you ask.

“Nah.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m fine,” he says tersely.

You roll your eyes. You thought you’d gotten past feeling uneasy about pulling this off, but right now, you have no idea if this is going to work when you and Rafe are so out of sync.

You already aren’t in the mood to go to a party. He’s not doing anything to change that.

“I guess I should take back what I said about us being friends,” you tease.

He doesn’t say anything. You gaze up at the starry night sky through the window, letting out a sigh.

“I’m okay to cancel if you don’t feel like doing this,” you offer. “I’m in the middle of a great book that I’d like to get back to anyway.”

Rafe doesn’t know what to do with the things you say sometimes. It’d be easier if you snipped back or iced him out like everyone else does, because then, he wouldn’t feel shitty like he does now.

It’s annoying how much you unknowingly push these touchy, complicated topics. Even though you’re giving him an out, it’s hard to ignore how rotten he feels when he shuts down your innocent chit-chat.

So, he relents.

“I don’t want to – to have to think about impressing someone,” he admits with a stammer you haven’t heard before.

You look at him again, somewhat stunned. You almost make a joke about how this whole ruse, which he thought up, sort of hinges on impressing people. But the tension is too thick.

“You don’t have to impress her,” you reply, your eyes drifting over the outlines of his profile. “I just want her to believe you like me because she might mention it to her brother. But it’s not like… a test. If it were, I’d make you study. That’s kind of my whole thing.”

You find relief when he cracks a small smile, his eyes still on the road. You smile back, wishing he thought of you as someone he could trust, and wondering why he’s stressed about his fake girlfriend’s best friend's opinion, when he doesn’t seem like the type to worry about what anybody thinks of him.

“I’m surprised you care what she thinks,” you say, your tone lighthearted.

Rafe chews on his lip.

“I know this isn’t…” He motions between you, aware of how ridiculous it is to be tense about this when you’re not even really dating. He exhales, giving in. “Emma’s friends didn’t like me. She always brought it up.”

His words hit you, sadness twisting your heart. His ex did badmouth him minutes after she met you; you wouldn’t be surprised if she complained about him to her friends, handing them reasons to dislike him, using it against him.

That’s what’s bothering him. This is a bad reminder.

“All you have to do is what you did last night,” you tell him. “You don’t even have to talk much. I honestly think Lyla expects to see me with a guy who lets me do all the talking.”

You continue to stare at him. He’s stiff. On edge. It’s another crack in the facade, another peek into the things he hides.

“Why would she… always bring it up?” you ask quietly.

Rafe turns the car onto a narrow street, the steering wheel sliding underneath his hands.

“We said shit just to hurt each other all the time,” he mutters.

You gaze forward, your chest tight. At this point, you’re sure that what they had was toxic. His ex said he had red flags, but it sounds like she was the same way. You still don’t know why he liked her so much.

He’s obviously worked up. You shouldn’t push. You decide to put yourself in the spotlight to even the score.

“I never told you how Beck rejected me,” you say. “He hugged me, then said I’m a better friend than his sister.”

“Shit,” he winces.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “You know when you can’t fall asleep and you think about all of your most embarrassing moments? That’s one of mine.”

Rafe breathes a quiet laugh. He grips the wheel when he reaches a stop sign, frustrated that he’s so curt with you, and even more frustrated that he cares. You’re slowly claiming a soft spot he didn’t know he had, whether he likes it or not.

“I’m… still pissed off,” he explains, his syllables sharp. “At her. Not you.”

It’s something that you didn’t expect about Rafe when you first met – that he can tell when he’s being too harsh and then tensely backpedals. You have a feeling he’s not really mad. He’s hurt. But he’d rather hide behind anger.

“I would be, too,” you say.

He offers an appreciative nod, avoiding eye contact.

════════

Lyla greets you with a big hug once you find her in the crowded frat house.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” she says, then looks up at Rafe. “You stole my best friend.”

“Can you blame me?” Rafe replies, putting his arm around your shoulders. You smile up at him, the uneasiness you’d felt dissolving. He can put on a good show when he wants to.

You quickly catch up with Lyla while Rafe quietly stands next to you. When there’s a gap in conversation, you turn to him and motion for him to come closer. He leans down.

“You can go hang out with your friends now,” you whisper. “Or should we stay together? What do couples do?”

Your words echo in his head. He didn’t think about if you’ve actually been part of a real couple before. He gazes at you, wondering why you never said anything about it.

“They should see us together first,” he finally says.

“Good point,” you say. “Let’s do a lap.”

Lyla finds a friend in the crowd and you take the opportunity to get a drink with Rafe. You walk to the kitchen, nudging past people together, your fingers interlaced with his.

Behind the worn laminate kitchen island, a lively game of beer pong is taking place. Emma is standing by the far end of the table, playing next to a guy who’s standing close to her.

You look up to see if Rafe notices. He does. His jaw tenses as he stares at her.

When you step up to the stack of empty solo cups, you catch Beck on the other side of the living room, leaning against a wall and chatting with a couple of his friends. You hate that your stomach still goes numb at his smile.

“They’re both here,” you tell Rafe.

He turns to face you, your hands still joined. You know what he looks like when he’s concentrating. You’ve seen it through your tutoring sessions, the way his eyes narrow and his dimples cave in as he flattens his lips together.

“You have your thinking face on,” you laugh.

“On the counter,” he says.

“Excuse me?” you nearly shout, eyes widened.

He nudges your hips with firm hands. The edge of the counter is hard against your lower back. He steps forward to push the clutter behind you aside.

Rafe’s brows lift in expectation.

“Sit on the counter,” he explains, “so they can’t miss us.”

You let him take the lead and feel for the counter with your palms. With Rafe’s grasp on your hips and your own force, you settle on the hard countertop. He guides your knees apart and shifts to stand between your thighs.

Your throat goes dry.

He’s smooth, experienced, clearly having done stuff like this before. The thought of it, of him, makes your skin burn and you force yourself not to picture it.

You’ve been close to Rafe before – you sat on his lap just last night – but this is the most suggestive position you’ve been in together, and it’s sending your thoughts into an uncontrollable frenzy.

Just a second ago, you were standing a few feet away from him, and now he’s between your legs, his frame big and dominating, his palms hot on your thighs.

“Hands on me,” he instructs.

You stiffly rest your forearms on his shoulders, the crisp smell of his cologne dancing over you. Your eyes dart to Beck, who hasn’t noticed you, and you tell yourself to do with Rafe what you always imagined doing with him.

You cradle the back of his neck, gently lacing his soft hair between your fingers. The conversations and music fade away as you and Rafe settle in a moment that looks private, but is really just for show.

Your mind slows down as you remind yourself that this isn’t real and there’s no reason to be shy.

Rafe is eye-level to you now. It’s still bothering him – why wouldn’t a girl who never stops talking tell him that she hasn’t been in a relationship?

“You haven’t dated before?” he asks.

“What?”

“Why are you asking me what couples do?”

“Oh.” You laugh and shrug, as if it’s apparent. “When you’re in love with someone for, like four years, you don’t really pay attention to other guys.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Rafe murmurs.

“Is it important?”

“A lot of things you say aren’t, but you still say them.”

You laugh, lips parting in shock.

“Jerk,” you mutter under your breath.

“You’re name-calling now?” he says, amused at the way that calling him that, even as a joke, seemed like it made you a little uncomfortable.

“Sure am,” you retort. “I’m kidding, though.”

He scoffs, amused again. Of course you had to clarify that you didn’t mean it.

“That’s why you’ve been so freaked out about this?” he realizes, cluing in that all your nerves have been because this, all of this, is entirely new to you.

“Paired with the fact that this is a ridiculous thing to be doing,” you say. “I thought it was obvious. So much for being easy to read, huh?”

Rafe’s brows furrow. It makes no sense. You two couldn’t be more different, but he can imagine what other guys would see in you now that he’s used to your unrestrained cheerfulness. You have a rare sincerity to you. It’s absurd how many years you wasted on Beck.

“What the hell do you see in him?” he asks, an unexpected sense of protectiveness pricking at him.

You look up to the ceiling in thought. Your fingers continue to lace through his hair, and he ignores the goosebumps that are blossoming on his skin.

When you look back down again, you notice Beck’s gaze on you from across the room.

“This is a first. I’m telling my pretend boyfriend why I like a guy that’s looking right at me,” you say. “I had fun with him. He’s hardworking and he’s nice to everybody and I respect that in a person. And when I talked to him, he cared about what I was saying. He remembered little things about me. He’s kind.”

“He led you on, though,” he remembers.

“Maybe. I do wonder if he knew I liked him and kept me around because he enjoyed the flattery or the help with school,” you say. “But I don’t know. He could’ve hoped I’d get over it and wanted to spare me the embarrassment. Or maybe I read into things and imagined he was flirting with me when he never was. I could’ve built all this stuff up in my head.”

Rafe takes in all the words you just threw at him, bringing out a touch of amusement from you.

“I fell for him because he made me feel special,” you conclude. “Isn’t that a big part of loving someone? You like the person you are when you’re with them?”

He looks at you silently, reminding you of when you met him and all he would offer you is a blank stare. Then, his face drops in melancholy.

While he’s usually drowning in his overwhelming thoughts, with his ex, life was simple. He could forget about the shit he didn’t want to think about because she never pushed.

Before they started fighting so much, he could do his best impression of who he always wanted to be. A man who’s steady. Who’s strong.

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“How’d you feel with her?” you ask. “When things were good, I mean.”

You hope he meets your eyes again. He does.

“Everything was easy,” he says. “It’s like I wasn’t as…”

“As?”

“Fucked up,” he admits.

Your shoulders drop. For the first time, you see a piece of why he was with Emma. She made him feel uncomplicated.

You wonder what Rafe has been through to make him think of himself that way, but you’re treading carefully, avoiding any risk of embarrassing him. No matter how rude he can be, you’re almost certain it comes from a place of sensitivity, and of wishing it didn’t.

“Isn’t it kind of funny?” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “He made me feel special and you make me feel annoying. She made things easy for you and I literally nag you to do your homework. And we’re supposedly dating.”

Rafe’s lips curl into a smile. You mirror it.

Just past his shoulder, you spot Emma’s gaze on you. She’s still playing beer pong, laughing with the guy she’s standing next to, but her eyes land on you and Rafe every few seconds.

“She keeps looking over,” you say. You think of their shared history, of how many memories they must have made together. Maybe Emma just needs to see him with someone else long enough to realize she wants him back. “What will you do if she wants to get back together?”

Rafe squints. He kept trying to make things work after she broke up with him because he just wanted the peace he’d once had with her back.

But when someone fucks him over, he’s done. The way she’s been dragging his name to anyone who’ll listen, to you the very day she met you, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. She may have broken his heart, but she doesn’t own it anymore.

“I’m done with her,” he tells you. “What if Beck asks you out?”

You’re not sure how to answer him, because you’d written off Beck being interested in you as a possibility. You hate that your heart skips thinking about it.

You shouldn’t want a man who could only want you once he thinks he can’t have you. But it’s easier said than done. The years of infatuation have a hold on you.

“I don’t know,” you confess. “But no matter what happens, we should have an easy-out clause. No hard feelings when one of us is done with this. Cool?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Cool.”

“Beck’s looking, too,” you say. “I think they’re buying it. Can I…?”

You bring your hands forward to gently rest on Rafe’s jaw, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones.

“You don’t have to ask,” he says with a subtly irritated shake of his head.

His hands are splayed over your thighs and your knees are pressed against his hips. It might be a good thing to get some practice with a guy you’re not really with. Affection won’t be as intimidating if you’ve already done it in a controlled setting.

Rafe waits for you to say something, to do something. Maybe you’ll break your ‘no kissing’ rule, even though now he’s pretty sure it’d be your first kiss.

“You know what?” you say gently.

He takes in the way your eyes travel over his face, and for a split second, it’s like you can see just how much he hides below the surface, like you’re going to keep digging until you find out what it is.

He nods once, silently beckoning you to continue.

“The next book on the syllabus is one of my favorites,” you say.

He smirks, relieved you’re joking instead of prying.

“This really is the type of shit you’d talk about with your boyfriend,” he realizes. He thought you were just nervously rambling the other night because you had nothing else to talk about, but he was wrong.

You purse your lips in thought, memories trickling in.

“Yeah,” you say, sadness clouding your features. “It’s one of the reasons I thought Beck liked me back. He liked to listen to me ramble about whatever I was reading. And he was interested. Or he acted like it. I really… I wish I could get over him.”

Rafe’s face falls again, confused over why a guy who did shit like that for years, who stared at you the way he did last night, pushed you away.

“I know,” is all he can offer, because he really does understand the desperation of wanting to feel whole again after somebody breaks you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you hear.

You glance up to see Lyla, her eyes darting to where Rafe is standing between your legs. You almost want to pull away, explain that it’s not what it looks like, nearly forgetting that you’re supposed to be fooling her, too.

“Hey,” you say.

“You want to do a shot with me?” she asks.

“Sure.”

You grip Rafe’s shoulders and shift forward. His hands tighten on your hips and you gently drop to the ground, pressed against his body.

“I’ll find you later?” you ask him.

He leans down low again, his temple brushing against yours.

“Take it easy, lightweight,” he replies.

You look up at him with a big grin.

“What?” he mutters.

“You’re worrying about me,” you whisper. “We are friends.”

“Get out of here,” he sighs.

You laugh and squeeze his hand before you step aside.

════════

You meant to keep count of your drinks. You really did. But every drink was like a temporary antidote against the heartbreak that’s been haunting you, and before you knew it, you were drunker than you’ve ever been before.

The night slips in and out of focus. You’re laughing with Lyla, then you’re playing beer pong, then you’re looking for Rafe.

You find him in a pocket of the crowd standing with a few other hockey players, your mind and body dizzy and hot. You cover his hand with yours, gently tugging him closer.

“I came here to ask you something,” you mumble into his ear when he leans down, his cologne hitting you again. “And… I don’t remember what it was.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly. You were stone cold sober earlier in the kitchen, and now you’re plastered.

“I told you to take it easy,” he says.

“I thought I was. I’m usually very responsible.” You shift to meet his eyes. “You smell great, by the way.”

“Okay?” he replies stiffly.

“Are you always this bad at accepting compliments?” you ask.

He is, and he hates how quickly you figure this kind of stuff out about him.

“What do you want?”

You squint, looking out at the crowd as you attempt to put your fragmented thoughts together. You spot Lyla.

“Oh! Could you give me and Lyla a ride home?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m done here anyway.”

Just a few minutes ago, Rafe watched Emma leave the house with the same guy she was playing beer pong with. It screwed a hole into his chest and he’s been wanting to get the fuck out of here since.

════════

You crack open the window as Rafe drives away from the frat house. Lyla’s in the backseat, tapping on her phone.

He glares at the road. Who was that guy Emma left with? And how the hell does he stop giving a shit? Is he doomed to spend the rest of his life wishing he didn’t care about things as much as he does?

Thinking of her with him doesn’t bring up jealousy. It’s anger. Disappointment. Because he’s losing this game.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” you ask Rafe, the cool spring breeze pressing against your face.

He glances at you. Even though you hardly ever see eye-to-eye, you genuinely want to be kind to him, consoling him on the way to the party, paying him compliments when drunkenness took away your filter.

Despite how irritating it can be when you pry, you don’t do it out of malice. And you even cracked him up a few times tonight.

He decides to answer you honestly, to be nice like you told him to be, ignoring the discomfort.

“When I was with you, yeah,” he replies.

“Aww,” Lyla coos from behind you.

You smile, discreetly giving him a thumbs up for his performance. He means it, but he’ll let you believe he said it just because your friend’s listening.

════════

Lyla directs Rafe to the front doors of her dorm, and when she tries to say goodbye to you, she laughs once she realizes you dozed off.

“Thanks for the ride. I still don’t really get this,” she says to Rafe, pointing between you two, “but I can tell it works.”

He knows why it looks like that. It’s because, as much as Rafe didn’t expect it, you’re right. You two genuinely became friends at some point over the last three weeks.

The sound of Lyla shutting her door snaps you awake. You quickly gauge your surroundings, realizing you’re on the opposite end of campus by Lyla’s building. The athletes’ dorm is practically a ten second drive away and the route to your building will be a long detour for Rafe.

“Isn’t your dorm like, right next door?” you murmur.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll just sleep over,” you say in an exhausted daze. “So you don’t have to drive all the way to the other side of campus and back.”

It’s nearing two in the morning. Rafe just wants to be in his bed. So, he goes along with your idea.

════════

Your eyelids flutter open. You stare ahead to see a broad, bare back sitting at a desk. Then, you recognize the unkept dark hair you ran your fingers through last night, as well as your tabbed copy of Lost Horizon sitting on the dresser.

You’re in Rafe’s dorm room. In his bed. Your face buried in his pillow.

Last night flashes through your mind. You’d thoughtlessly suggested a sleepover. Rafe helped you out of the car and let you lean on him in the elevator and complained that you weren’t making enough space for him in his bed.

“I am so sorry,” you murmur.

Rafe turns around, taking out an earbud with an eyebrow raised.

“Finally awake?” he says.

Your chest stings and your stomach turns as you slowly sit up. You put your hand on your forehead, tangled up in his duvet, last night’s clothes tight and uncomfortable as you think back to how much you drank.

“I should’ve listened to you,” you murmur. “That was not taking it easy. I was stupid.”

“Thought that was a bad word.”

“It is,” you say with a pointed finger. “Thank you. It is.”

You finally look at him again. He’s in sweats, gray boxers peeking out the band, his muscular body curled over the chair. It’s unusual to see him like this; in his downtime, sitting at his desk, using his laptop, shirtless.

You’d felt his body against yours, felt the firmness of his muscles, but seeing him like this in broad daylight raises your pulse.

Rafe notices your gaze linger on his chest before you meet his eyes again. If he really is flustering you, it’s a good dose of payback, considering how he felt when you sat on his lap and played with his hair.

“What the hell did I drink last night?” you mumble.

“You tell me.”

He gazes at you as you try to remember. Even though it was snug sleeping next to you in his tiny single bed, it was nice to not spend a night on his own. He already knew he was lonely, but feeling you next to him, hearing your breath as he dozed off, showed him just how much.

“Shots? Beer? Something really sweet?”

“You mixed,” he realizes. “Bad move.”

“I feel like death,” you groan. “I’m going home now.”

You shuffle forward, your legs hanging over the edge of his bed. You slide off, briefly losing your balance before your feet touch the carpet.

You catch yourself, gripping his shoulder. He cups your wrist as you wobble. You pull your hand back and readjust your clothes, a wrinkled mess now, then pick your bag up off the floor, which you’re glad you thought to bring in your stupor.

“I’m sorry again. Thanks for… dealing with me,” you say quickly, smoothing back your hair. Rafe only smirks, entertained by how embarrassed you are. “I’m walking home because I might throw up and I don’t think we’re at the point where I can do that in front of you yet.”

“You already did.”

Your lips part in shock and he laughs.

“You’re kidding,” you realize. “I didn’t expect you to be a morning person.”

“I’m not.” He looks over at his laptop for the time. “It’s half past noon.”

You sigh in shame and make your way to the door.

“Hold on,” he says. You turn and almost miss the ball of fabric he throws towards you. When you hold it up and realize it’s one of his extra jerseys, you laugh.

“Wear it to the next game,” Rafe tells you.

“Good idea,” you say, imagining the way Emma, and hopefully Beck, will fume at the sight of you with Cameron across your back. “See you.”

You rush down the hallway, thrown out of your thoughts when you hear a loud click. Beck is unlocking his door a few feet ahead of you.

You internally groan. You feel awful and you’re sure you look it, too.

His eyes search your face, as if he doesn’t recognize you. On top of the embarrassment and anxiety you’re already feeling, the sight of him bombards you with the familiar pain of rejection.

“Hey,” you say with an awkward laugh. You need to act casual. You figure if you can pretend to like Rafe, you can pretend to not like Beck. “How’s it going?”

He looks past you, no doubt cluing in that you’re leaving Rafe’s dorm in last night’s clothes. You know what he’s going to think – you spent the night doing more than just sleeping. Suddenly, you’re glad you ran into him.

“Good,” he says absentmindedly. “You?”

“Good,” you reply, continuing to walk past him. Beck looks down, seemingly thrown off.

“I have to say…” He lets out a humorless chuckle. You stop and turn to look at him. “It’s kind of crazy that you’re hanging out with him.”

“Crazy?”

“He’s not really your type.”

Your heart hammers in your chest.

“What is my type?” you challenge.

Beck’s forehead crinkles in what you’d have to guess is disappointment. You swallow nervously. He could say so many things that would break your heart even more. And you hate that he has that much power over you.

“I just think he’s… intense,” he replies.

“I like intense,” you say.

Beck seems out of words. And as much as you want to stay, to ask what he’s thinking, you’re done waiting on bated breath for him, hoping he feels how you do when you share a private moment.

If you act like you’re not in love with him, your heart will eventually catch up. It has to.

“Nice to see you,” you say, carrying on towards the elevator. And walking away from him instead of the other way around for once gives you a newfound feeling of victory that you realize you really needed.

next >

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[sturnsrecord]

⌗ BIG DICK ⸝⸝ matt sturniolo

something had gotten matt riled up, a few days without sex or anything of the sort leading to his dick hard as ever — straining against his boxers as you tediously undressed in front of him. you could already see the large bulge, feel just how hard and thick he was as your hand passed over.

and god did it feel like that, and more, when he gently sunk into you — stretching your tight cunt a little more than usual, a snug fit that had you sucking him in just to be stuffed full. “f-fuck… you’re so big.” he barely hears your sharp whine, but the second it registers, it sends his blood pumping south, a small stir in his stomach and a twitch in his dick.

as he thrusts forward, picking up the pace, everything urges him to say something. the way you grip his arms for support, face scrunched up in pleasure and almost a little pain — the way he can see your lower stomach bulge every time he pushes deeper into you. it drives him crazy. “you like my big cock?”

you moan at the sheer vulgarity of his words, said with so much confidence you felt like putty under his touch. “y-yes, mhm.” he can’t believe the words have just left his mouth, but your reaction only spurs him on — encompassing him into the fantasy as his hand comes down to press on the bulge, causing your eyes to roll back.

“fuck — you love this big dick fuckin’ you, hm? so deep you can’t even think.” you nod, taking in every inch of his thick length, feeling the way he bottomed out every time his hips snapped forward, sending you into seeing stars over and over — unknowingly feeding into a size kink that he didn’t even know he had, wanting to hear more and more about how much you loved his big dick.

©.STURNSRECORD

notes ⸝⸝ a little crumb during my break

[c0sm1cp0tat0]

Yandere! Saja Boys x Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.

A part of you hadn't expected for them to still be lounging in your bed when you came back out. Your attire was less than professional; a lilac cami top and shorts. Your favourite pyjama set. A fluffy white towel over your damp locks of hair, that fell forward into your large dark eyes.

Blank faced and confused, you look at them. They were staring at you like you had given them everything they could ever want. Your lashes were actually still damp as well. That was annoying. You rub at your eye.

"Fuuuuuuuu--" Abby couldn't finish the word. Let alone the scentence. Beni slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Sexy." He spoke instead, deep voice breaking on the word.

Roman was on full panick mode. "Ah, fuck fuck fuck I want to see her eat like that-- Oh my god." Correction, he wanted to eat YOU like that but he didn't want to scare.

Jinu was staring blankly. He snapped out of it and made room on the bed and opened the pizza box back up.

"Care for a slice?" You wanted to say no. How on earth do demons know all the good places?

You stepped forward but were tackled by Malak. "Ahh!!" The small of your back slammed against the closed bathroom door. He brought his face closer and closer to yours until you realized what was being hinted at; the damn kisses he was promised. Fuck.

The others groaned in jealousy. Your waist was in his large arms. He was leaning down. You were, as always, alarmed.

"Wait-- right now?? Can we not--"

Too late, his lips were on yours. And it didn't start slow or anything. His lips were already moving. Fast and hard. You were straining yourself on keeping your mouth closed and your eyes open. But that would only draw out the process.

So, with a whimper, you let Mystery in.

The latter was on cloud nine. During the weeks that you stayed with them, he'd gotten some sort of oral fixation exclusive to you, his mouth needed to be on you, against you, without breaking apart for as long as possible. Now, he finally got his chance. You were caught in a snare, unable to even resist because of a promise made on your behalf.

Six minutes later, you were struggling to breathe through your nose. Your eyes were watering. Mystery, unknowingly had let the mouth part of him turn to its demonic form due to his need to taste more of you. his tongue had grown. Long and wide and was filling your cheeks. It was down your throat, absoulutely slithering, blocking airways.

You couldn't open your eyes. When you did, you saw spots. You tried and tried to pull away. He was too strong. When you did get away for a split second and gulped in a huge breath of air,

"Back, now." His voice dragged out in a snarl, guttural and bestial as he squeezes your face in one large palm to yank you back.

He's got you pushed down on the bed now, body weight crushing yours as his hips grinds on you. His elbows dug into the mattress on either sides of your head, fingers laced on the top of your head to hold you in place. Your own small hands gripped onto the back of his shirt for dear life, tugging in an attempt to convey you wanted him off.

Your muffled whines of protests were lost on him, too busy eating your face to care. Whenever you gagged on his tongue, he moaned and pushed it in deeper. Sending your body convulsing. All he could hear was your cute little whines and whimpers under him. He was feral.

When he finally, finally pulled back, your head was already thrown back, gulping in huge gulps of air, eyes reeling.

You didn't have time. When your boyfriend had died, you'd had too much time. Now you had too little. Every second you had to be on the ready. To dodge to kick and fight amd snark.

The Saja Boys kept you on your toes.

But right now, you were too helpless to even roll out of the way as Jinu took you up by the armpits as if you were a simple child. On his lap, you were seated. Your throat, which was raw from convulsing and being sucked over by Malak's tongue, was also too weak to convey your words properly.

"Wh-at-- are you do-ing??"

The ravenette smiled down at you. A cheesy, lovesick grin. A large pizza slice in his hand with the tip at your lips. The aromatic food was still warm, but not too warm. It smelled heavenly.

"Feeding you"

Oh no. Nonononono. This was not happening. You squirmed. He tightened his hold until your ribcage could barely move even to take breaths.

"Stop tryna take care of me, I'm not a child." You choked out after stilling.

Baby snickered. You glared at him. What are you laughing about, asshole? Look at your stage name.

Romance leaned forward and looked you dead in the eye. He was never this serious. Propped up forcefully in Jinu's lap like this, you were at eye level.

"Sweetheart, we don't know what your life was like before. As of now, we're going to take care of you. And you're going to take it all."

You flinched. But you were the one who always did the taking care of!! You were their manager. When you had your boyfriend, it was always you taking care of him. Its always that way. Always should stay that way.

Roman's promise sounded like a threat.

Abbott read your expression right away. His grin widened, "Oh you poor thing," He crooned, wicked. Sinister. "How are you going to escape now? You have five of us pining for you. And we're intent on spoiling you rotten with love and affection. Whether you want it or not." Smooth and syrupy was his tone. He hadn't even bothered to button his shirt, leaned back against your headboard with his arms folded behind his head, those intimidating biceps flexed.

You whimpered, legs squirming on instinct to back yourself up. To no avail, as you realised you were still in your position in Jinu's lap. He gave you a squeeze that was supposed to be reassuring but was mostly threatening. How could Abby, so dumb and sweet to the general public, sound so all-knowing and frightening to you?

"Come now, [Y/N]. One slice like this, and I'll let you eat the rest on your own." Jinu murmured way too sensually for your feeling safe.

You narrowed your eyes up at him. One slice? Not one bite would you take out of his hand. You struggled. You kicked and squirmed. You were weak from the kiss. That annoyed you further. So at one point you decided to take the extreme measure of biting his arm.

Which was a mistake

Because he let out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard. You immediately retracted your teeth from his arm, deciding to never do that again.

And, in the end, they got what they wanted.

⌗☾︎ ‧₊˚ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶⋅₊˚☽︎⌗

The fan meet scheduled the very next week was insane. It was like the numbers who usually attended had doubled- no- tripled. And your profits had quadrupled.

Your table was more of a desk, out to the very side so that you could easily notify bodyguards of sasaengs, crazy fans who would try reach out and grab what they weren't offered or took pictures without permission.

But today, when you looked up from your desk, you were mortified to see a steady line of people growing. In front of you was a young woman, perhaps your own age. Younger, maybe.

"[Y/N]~?? I'm your biggest fan!! Sign my shirt??"

You swore there were actual tears of joy in her eyes as she pleaded with you. Dumbstruck, you looked down to her shirt to see a 4k print of one of your photos with Mystery. You yelped, scrambling back in your chair. "T-There's merch of this stuff??"

The girl in front of you squealed. You jumped. She smiled sheepishly "Your reaction was just so cute!!"

"Awww~ She's flustered everybody!!" One male fan called out and the entire room was filled with swooning noises. You stared, blanking out. What was going on??

The members leaned out to the side to watch. Roman and Abbott regarded you with these lovesick grins. Baby and Jinu had on cocky, complacent smirks. Malak was blank, but when he caught sight of the fan, he eagerly held up the shirt that he was signing to show you that it was an exact copy of the one that your fan possessed. You stared.

"Don't look so scared just by this. Those are in mass production. There's edits online of you with each of the boys and they have millions of views." The bodyguard standing next to you had the kindness to fill you in on all the atrocities happening to your name as he spoke.

"I don't really...have to...sign this. Do I??"

"Oh pleeeaaase [Y/N]. Pleeeaaase?? We love you so much!!" The fan was pleading by now. It was crazy, because she was being so respectful and you were just the manager.

Not knowing what to do, you hate to say you got a bit cranky. You rubbed your eyes. That action by itself sent waves of coos and giggles throughout the signing hall. You sat up rigid, not used to your actions causing a chain reaction.

Even this was not let slide. "She's not used to the fame!! I wish I could hug her!!"

A male fan shouts out, "I'm going to sue you [Y/N]!! Dangerous woman, you're stealing my heart!!"

The girl before you ignored that, continuing, "But...if you don't want to sign it...I guess its fine..." No it wasn't, her voice was going pillowy and sad by the second.

Okay, okay okay. [Y/N], focus. This isn't just going to sail by. You had to get through this. So you took a breath, smiled pleasantly at the girl and signed her top. She jumped excitedly. You supressed a flinch at her ecstatic movements.

You, surprisingly, had quite the chats with the fans before you. Though there were so many questions filling your head the whole time. You were gifted an assortment of headbands. Sweets. Drawings of you...and the members. But there were also wholesome moments that made your heart clench.

"My mum takes care of me the way you take care of the Saja Boys. I like you, [Y/N]." One little girl tells you, her voice sweet as she looks up at you over the desk.

The widest smile spread your lips at that. You swore you heard a camera clicking near you when you smiled. It didn't matter.

And then, there was that one. Damned. Question. That kept circulating and coming back to you.

"[Y/N], out of all the Saja boys who clearly like you so much, who do you prefer?" None.

"See, I'm just their manager. I respect them all the same." They giggled. You were clearly denying any sort of romance with the boys.

Your replies were pretty much the same all around.

"Who do you like better, [Y/N]?? I think you look so adorable between Abby and Jinu!!" They're the worst, no thanks.

"My bias is Baby!! Who's yours, [Y/N]??"

"Your pictures with Jinu had me squealing all night!! Which ones did you prefer better!?"

"[Y/N], how many times do you kiss Romance per day? Your favourite is totally him!! Right?? Right!!??"

....it could get intense.

You were exhausted. You went straight to Jinu after.

"How did the fans get through the barrier to me?? And why did you let them??"

He shrugged, "They were willing to pay double to meet you."

And you, the manager, knew nothing about this beforehand?? It was like he could read your mind.

"The pictures blew up while you were sleeping. They find you adorable. Like Baby, but without the snark. You're kinda like one of us now."

'One of us.'

'One of us.'

It rung in your mind. You stared at him but not really at him. More like, into space.

"I don't want to be." You suddenly burst out an hour later while submerged between them and the couch. It was this habit they had of dragging you everywhere in the house with them to do stuff. When you tried to run? A click of the fingers and they could merely teleport wherever you were headed to bring you back.

"Be what?" Beni asked patiently, aquamarine locks on your arm as he snuggled into it.

"One of you."

The barrier that seperated you and the Boys as their manager previously was now blurring according to the fans. You were not liking it. You were afraid.

"It's not that deep." Abby shrugged.

"Its very deep." You stood up and grabbed your bag, ready to take off.

For once, they remained slouched on the couch, letting you.

10 minutes later you were in your own bed, rocking back and forth. This was driving you mad. You'd never wanted to be famous. You didn't need this kind of attention while you were still grieving the passing of a loved one. You'd held up your front today. But how much longer could you hold out??

Your friends were blowing up your phone. You were on one of those front page articles online; 'Unestablished female member of Saja??' 'Saja Boys not just boys anymore??'

You scrolled down more, and there was another article. One that made your eyes widen. A picture of a man from the fan meet. Specifically, the one who'd yelled up at you from the crowd. Under the highlighted words, 'Found dead'.

'This is the most recent picture taken of everyday accountant, Baek Jiseok before he was encountered lifeless in an alleyway. Right after fan meet with Saja Boys.'

Your eyebrows furrowed. You gulped. Tears welling in your eyes. You knew all too well how difficult it is to lose someone.

Even you missed him. The random fan of yours that you ignored in the meet.

"That's awful." You murmured, trailing shaky fingers down his photo. There was something more awful yet. There was a murderer on the loose

"What's wrong [Y/N]?"

"Ahh!!" You jumped violently at the sudden purr of a deep voice in your ear. Jinu stood behind you, leaned into you. He had with him his gigantic demon cat. Standing on the cat was the three-eyed magpie. You liked that magpie. Sassy queen. His three eyes could see all, but he mostly just used it to give the members dirty side looks. It was brilliant. But he was also a motif of how truly inhuman Jinu and the rest of them were. Of the power and imbalance they wielded against you.

You'd seen them around. The cat always approached you, curious. But you were always too frightened to let it get near. Now you'd seen them both so much, you didn't really mind. All it did was come up close and nuzzle it's head to your small palm.

"He really likes you."

"One of your fans died."

His gaze lowered downwards towards your screen, "No, one of your fans died." His eyes were glowing gold. You felt shivers down your spine. You failed to recognize why.

"Are you not sad? Even a little?"

He did the thing you least expected in this situation. He smiled. A warm, ominous smile. As if nothing was wrong and all was well.

"Guys like him deserve to die. He shouted out at you so crassly during the fansign." The way Jinu coiled around your small form was reminiscient of the twined vines of poison ivy that encircled a delicate pretty flower, preventing anyone, anything from taking it away from its rightful place.

Pulling you down to your worst ever nightmare.

He was without a shirt, demon patterns showing. He was exposing his full self to you. As if silently beseeching you to accept him. Accept them.

You could almost hear it. The agonized beggings and pleadings of the fan. The man; somebody's significant other. A brother. A father, maybe. As he implored them to let him live, that he didn't mean to shout his love to you. You, who was already taken.

"Do you hear it? It was all for you. That's how much we like you. We want you so much, [Y/N]. How could you detest us so blatantly like this?" He pressed benign kisses to your cheek. Each of them blooming over your skin like small catastrophes.

"Get it out. Get it out of my head!! GET IT OUT!!" You screamed, clawing at your head. You didn't want to hear, to see what was done in your name. Their love was a calamity. A tainting. A contamination.

Jinu clicked his fingers. The live audio of your former-fan's suffering and screams dissapeared in an instant from your head.

You cried. You leaned over and cried. They had told you many times the insane things they would do for you. They'd told you before that they would kill for you. But you didn't know, you'd never fathomed they would actually-- Fuck. You burst into fresh, heart-wrenching sobs.

Jinu hushed you and hugged you. He kissed you. He gave you words. "Everything will be fine, [Y/N], this doesn't need to affect anything."

It was affecting things for him. Not negatively. Gwi-ma was delighted about the fresh young souls being rained down on their realm, empowering him.

You finally looked up at him, into his molten gold eyes, and tried not to let your voice break on a sob as you spoke.

"How many?? How many have you killed!??"

He looked at you dumbstruck as if you'd caught him off guard with a difficult maths equation. "You...want me to count??"

There were so many, though. Men, and women who would look down at your darling form funny on the street. Whether it'd be in a patronizing way or an overly admiring way. Waiters who'd wink and slip you their phone number. Baristas, the same. You were an attractive person but you didn't realize it.

Poor naïve thing, had you not noticed the huge spike in numbers of people gone missing?? Namely around your area.

He looked apologetic. Not for what he'd done, but for the sole fact that he couldn't offer you a number. "I'd tell you, but even then, the boys have also done stuff that they haven't told me. They have a shorter temper than me, you see." Especially when it came to you.

Dazed and horrified, you just kept looking at him. He held you tighter, nuzzling himself into you. So did his blue tiger. It's purrs vibrated your whole body as it pressed it's head into your stomach. Together, they created some sort of a soft coocoon around you. A guilded cage.

To say in short, honey, you're cooked.

⌗☾︎ ‧₊˚ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶⋅₊˚☽︎⌗

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