#if he'd released them. Would be different

[i3utterflyeffect]

i've decided that selkie!chosen still hates alan for a while actually. it's funny and also they deserve it

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Why Fenris could Never Cameo in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

In the run up to Dragon age: The Veilguard, I was almost certain that Fenris would be our main legacy character from previous games. Not only has he been central in the comics released between DAI and DATV, he is an escaped Tevinter slave who's plot revolved around magisters, magic and the structural prejudices surrounding elves in Thedas. Not only that, but he's canonically in Tevinter killing slavers currently so he's geographically in the right place for us to meet him.

About halfway through the game though, it was clear to me: Fenris could never cameo in The Veilguard. Because he'd break it.

How the Veilguard treats Thedas is...odd to me, to say the least. I will be writing another post about how much I adored the expanded big lore in this game (the titans, ancient elves were spirits, where the blight came from etc.) and yet while these large lore expansions worked for me, the actual culture of modern Thedas is entirely softened, its sharp edges filed down until it's a sanitised fantasy world devoid of what made the franchise so vibrant and compelling in the first place.

So let's start with Fenris and slavery. In all three games, the reality of slavery is pushing at the corners of the world. In DAO Loghain allows Tevinter Magisters to enslave elves in order to raise money for his war effort. In DA2 Fenris is fighting to be free from slavers who will not leave him be, let alone the reminders that the city was built by slaves which are everywhere. In DAI one of the two possible mini-bosses is Calpurnia who was a slave, and characters such as Gatt and Dorian both show us how much slavery is tied into Tevinters culture and success.

But DATV the first game actually set in Tevinter where we get to see the famed Minrathous...it's like the game purposefully wants to avoid the issue. I can feel it tilting the camera away to not allow me to see. Slavery is mentioned, but never talked about in depth or as a specifically ELVEN problem in Tevinter. This might have been done to be less problematic, it feels ignored.

We are in DOCK TOWN. We are at the DOCKS. You would think that slaves from all over Thedas who are being smuggled and bought by various groups would be everywhere. You would think that the injustice in dock town would be partly built on the back of ships we've seen in the comics crammed with elves in chains. This is the world Dragon age set up for us. And yet...nothing. zilch. A tiny easily skippable side quest where we free a couple of venatori slaves, but only one of whom is an elf.

None of our Tevinter characters seem to have been influenced by their culture even a little bit when it comes to how they view elves; there is no moment when Neve fucks up and says something prejudiced, no moment when Bellara or Davrin are distrustful of her for being a Tevinter mage.

The same goes for Zevran; a character who epitomised the issues with the crows. The crows have consistently been characterised as very morally dubious assassins who kill for the highest bidder and who buy children on the slave market and torture them as they grow in order to assure that they reach maturity able to withstand torture without giving away a client's name. Zevran is very explicit about the fact that if you fail a contract your life is forefit.

Nobody responds particularly to you if you're an elf. Nobody trusts rook less for it in Tevinter. Nobody treats Rook any differently. Even DAI had better mechanics for this; with nobles in Orlais less likely to trust you as an elf.

Considering one of the main plot points of this game and what makes Solas sympathetic is the fact that he was fighting against the slavery of ancient elves...you'd think the game might want to mirror that in modern Thedas. It might want to show us how characters fighting to end slavery in Tevinter are similar to Solas and how the society Solas fought against was similar to the one that characters we love such as Fenris have fought against in modern Thedas. Maybe we'd want to explore how in a world of slavery like this, how could the answer NOT be to tear it all down? Maybe we should have that option at the end of the game so it really can chose whether we agree with Solas and his plans or not.

Adding Fenris to this game would entirely break the game because Fenris refuses to allow you to look away from this horror. He is a sympathetic character who had to learn to trust mages again because of course he didn't trust them. Of course he didn't. Fenris wouldn't allow the camera to shift focus because he's literally covered in the lyrium scars that show how slaves are used as experiments in Tevinter. Fenris WOULD question Neve on how she feels about elves and slaves. Fenris WOULD have things to say about Lucanis and the crows (let alone the fact Lucanis is an abomonation). So he could never be in this game; he'd drop a bomb on it's carefully constructed blinders to the very society its supposed to be set in.

And yet, in DATV, the crows are presented as...a found family of misfits and orphans? The politician who opposes the crows having absolute power in Antiva is framed as a comically evil idiot who doesn't understand that the crows are ontologically good. Yet...they're NOT. Crows in this game act more like a secret rebel group than an assassin organisation. We see no crow taking contracts with the VERY RICH venatori magisters despite being hired killers. We see crows just refuse to kill people despite having a contract because 'its crueler to leave them alive'. The crows don't feel like the crows here, they feel like a softened version of a cool assassin group who are cool because they wear black and purple.

Our pirate group are also sanitised; the Lords of Fortune are good pirates who only steal treasure that's not culturally significant. Theyve clearly read the modern critiques of the British Museum and have decided to explicitly stop anyone levelling similar critiques at them. There is no faction of the Lords of Fortune who aren't like this, no internal arguments about it. Everyone just. Agrees. And is able to accurately tell what a cultural artifact is vs. what treasure that you can have yourself is. Rather than showing us why a pirate stealing cultural artifacts might be bad (like in da2 where such a situation literally causes a coup and a war) it just tells us it's bad. But also pirates are cool so we still want them in our world.

This issue seaps into Thedas and drains it of any of the interesting complexity and ability to SAY anything that this franchise had before this game. It becomes a game about telling and not showing rather than the other way around. The games have ALWAYS asked questions about oppressive structural systems and their interplay with society, religion and culture and how these things can affect even the most well meaning character. Dragon age at its best IS a game about society and how society functions both for and against it's characters and what happens to societies built on cruelty and indifference. The best bad guys dragon age has given us are those who are bad because they embody these systems or have been shaped by them. Our main characters have had to wrestle with questions surrounding how to exist in these systems, fight against them, learn and grow.

Yet every group you come across in DATV is sanitised and cleaned up to the point of being as non problematic as humanly possible. None of our cast of characters have to wrestle with where they came from or the world that shaped them. None of them have to confront their own biases. They start the game perfectly non-problematic and end it that way too.

And this just...isn't what Dragon Age has been in the past. It isn't why I love the franchise. The whole game just felt, in a way, hollow. And this was a CHOICE and it is why the legacy characters are few and far between. Too many dragon age characters are just too...angry and complex for this game. You can feel them pulling their punches on this one. I have to imagine they did this because they didn't want to be criticised or have too much controversy? But I think it honestly goes far too much in the other direction and just makes it bland.

I can't imagine what I say here will be unique, but it is the basis for a LOT of my other thoughts on this game so I wanted to get it out of the way first. The softened Thedas and characters make this game by far the weakest in the franchise.

[missdynamighttt]

imagining your older brother's bestfriend! katsuki bakugo walking in on you... masturbating.

"fucking hell..." you grumbled as the steady thump of music from your brother's party downstairs interrupted your studying.

your brother's parties were usually a messy affair, with plenty of noise and chaos. but lately, he seemed to be throwing them more frequently and with more intensity.

the sound of him and his friends playing beer pong and laughing loudly, the sounds carrying up from upstairs to your ears.

despite your best efforts to ignore the noise and concentrate on studying, the sound of music and loud chatter kept pulling your attention away. you tried blocking it out, focusing on your notes, but it was hard to ignore.

you closed your laptop in frustration, abandoning your efforts to study and grabbed your phone instead. scrolling mindlessly, you eventually came across something that caught your eye.

it was a photo of katsuki bakugo, your brother's best friend, smiling and looking as handsome as ever. his muscles were clearly visible through his tight shirt, and his spiky hair was tousled just right.

seeing him always made your heart race, but this time it was different. you felt heat wash over your body, and a feeling of excitement that you couldn't quite explain.

you couldn't take your eyes off the photo, as if katsuki's beautiful vermillion eyes and his god-like physique was hypnotizing you.

then, you realized.. you were feeling horny.

"shit. whats wrong with me?" you mumbled. but you couldn't resist the urge any longer, let alone fight it. your body was aching with need, who were you to tell it what it should do?

closing your eyes, you stifle a moan as your hand snuck underneath your pants and started to rub your folds in slow, lazy circles.

you huffed, biting your bottom lip as you watch yourself rub your clit through your panties. the other hand abandons your phone, crawling beneath your shirt, moving your bra out of the way to play with your tits, rolling your forefinger and thumb over your nipple.

your thoughts slowly drift to katsuki again, imagining his muscles framing his strong body, what it would be like if it was his hand down your pussy instead of yours.

you couldn't help but let out a loud whimper at the thought of his hands running over your body, his lips on yours. you could almost feel the heat of his touch, as if he were really there in the cramped space of your room, his presence a maddening pressure against your skin.

you let out a soft sigh, your hand moving faster as your imagination ran wild. it was wrong, really wrong. but you couldn't help it. the ache in your body was overwhelming, and you needed release.

the only thing that could make it better was if it was him, not you, imagining him there, his hand, his body, his voice. all there just to take care of your poor, needy little clit.

suddenly, someone pushed open the door without knocking, someone intending to ask you something about the party.

a gasp escapes your lips as the door slammed open, eyes snapping open to see katsuki standing in the doorway. your hands scrambled its way out of your body, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment but there was no denying it.

the sight that greeted him made him freeze in the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized what he had walked in on. you, on your bed, a flush on your cheeks and your hand very recently hiding beneath your clothes where it wasn't supposed to be.

but katsuki heard you. he didn't want to assume and gets his hopes up, until now. katsuki saw you, masturbating. to a photo of him, no less. and to the thoughts of him fucking you.

he stood there in the doorway, stunned, his eyes fixated on you as you tried in vain to hide what you were doing, hiding evidence he'd already seen.

"shit, 'm sorry.." you mumbled, clearly very embarassed. "i thought the.. door was locked."

katsuki processed your words for a moment before he stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

"don't worry about it," he leaned against the door, his eyes never leaving yours. "should have knocked."

there was something about the way he was looking at you, a mix of surprise and... something else that made you feel self-conscious. you shifted your legs, clenching down on nothing in an attempt to relieve the aching need inside you.

"wh-what did you need?" you looked up at him, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

he pushed himself off the door, his movements slow as he took a few steps forward. he stopped several feet away from the bed and looked down at you with a hint of amusement.

"wanted to ask you something about the party. but i think there's something more.. important."

his eyes wander over your face and down to your body, lingering on the way your chest rises and falls with each breath. he swallows hard, his jaw tight.

"you looked like you were having a good time," he says, his tone almost teasing.

a hot flush spread across your cheeks, face burning with embarrassment. you dropped your gaze to your knees, unable to face him

"forget about it. didn't mean for you to see..."

katsuki chuckled, the sound deep and dark. his eyes roved over your body, as if taking in the sight of you in a way that made you feel naked, vulnerable.

"m pretty sure i won't be able to forget about it anytime soon."

he took another step forward, a few more inches between you. he sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. he was so close now, you could almost feel the heat radiating off his body.

he reaches out, his hand brushing against your knee, feeling your body tense under his touch. his proximity made you feel both vulnerable and incredibly alive.

"don't be embarrassed. it's normal to have needs."

your breath catches in your throat as his hand touched your knee. the simple touch made your heart race, the shame and embarrassment of being caught in the act evident on your face.

"it's not normal," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "especially for you to see me taking care of my... myself like this..."

katsuki lets out a low chuckle, his hand sliding from your knee up to your thigh.

"well, i'm... not bothered i saw it," he says, his voice a little huskier than usual as he squeezes your thigh gently, his fingers warm against your skin. "it was... quite a show."

you look up at him, and your mind struggles to remember what he had come in for in the first place. he was glad he saw it? how long was he even watching?

"wh-what did you want to ask me about, again?" you managed to say, your eyes locked onto his. you were trying to stay focused, but it was hard with him standing so close, his presence making your mind fuzzy.

katsuki doesn't reply right away,his hand still on your thigh. his expression is unreadable, watching his hand trickle along your thighs in slow, lazy strides before looking back at you.

finally, he seems to remember what he came in to ask. "ah, right. i was wondering if you were coming downstairs," he says, his eyes flicking down to you, his gaze lingering on her form for a moment before returning back up to her face.

"but... i'm not sure i want you to leave anymore."

his eyes flick down to your phone, seeing the picture you had been looking at when he walked in. it's the picture of him, the one that had inspired your... activities.

he looks back up at you, his eyes dark as he lets out a low chuckle, the sound making you shiver. "were you looking at this before i walked in, hm?"

you cursed under your breath, fumbling for your phone to turn it off, your embarrassment painfully obvious, trying to compose yourself.

"shit. shit, that was... i'm sorry. i don't know how it... i didn't mean for you to see that."

katsuki chuckled, a deep, rough sound, his hand still resting on your thigh, squeezing it. "relax. 'm not mad."

he took the phone from your trembling fingers, the brief contact of his fingers on your skin sending goosebumps on your arms, setting it down on the bedside table with a soft thud. "in fact," he continued, his voice lowering. "i'm intrigued."

he leaned in closer, his body nearly flush with yours, his hand sliding further up your thigh until it was barely hovering above the hem of your shorts. a shudder ran through your body at his touch, sending tingles down your spine.

"you..." he asked, his hand stopping at your inner thigh. "were getting turned on by me, perv?"

your breath stuttered as he began to move his hand in lazy, repetitive circles against your crotch, the sensation making your body tingle with need. was this really happening?

for a moment, you wanted to tell him to stop. but why? you wanted this. you needed this. you needed to finish what he interrupted and he was willingly offering to help you. so, fuck it. you liked it anyway.

clinging to him, your face flushed with an intense heat, your body reacting to his touch. "fuck... y-yeah."

katsuki's eyes narrow, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. his presses a thumb against the thin fabric of your shorts, feeling your damp panties against him, your mewls sending vibrations down his hand.

"were you, really?" he leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours. "thinkin' of me, all alone up here in your bed, touchin' yourself to me?"

you nodded slowly, a soft whimper escaping your lips. your fingers clenched at his shirt, body trembling against him as you feel your warm, wet cunny flutter from his touch.

katsuki shifted his hand, his fingers wandering higher on the waistband of your panties, getting his hand down your shorts.

"and what, exactly, were you thinking i'd be doing to you?"

a soft moan escaped your lips when he starts tracing slow patterns on the sensitive skin of your bare folds. your head lolling back in response, your body arches into him, wanting more of him.

"your hands... how good they'd make me feel, all over me..."

"my hands, on you? touchin' you, explorin' your body, makin' this pretty pussy feel good?"

you nodded eagerly, face flushed as your panted, body shivering with pleasure of his hands on you, rubbing your poor, needy clit.

"yes... wait.." you bit your lip, your mind attempting to shift through your hazy thoughts, eyes looking up at him.

"sh-shit, you're supposed to be downstairs..." you reminded him. "won't my brother notice you're gone..?"

he scoffs, brushing your hair behind your ear, his hand gentle on your face but firm in between your legs. "don't give a fuck," he says, his voice gruff.

"right now, the only thing i care about is you."

he leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his presence almost overwhelming. he seemed to be completely focused solely on you, his hands roaming over your body, exploring the curves and soft skin beneath his touch.

"besides," he says, his hand starts to move harder on your wet cunny. "your brother can handle one shitty party without me. i have something i need to take care of right here."

his calloused fingers assault on your clit with fast rubs, teasing your wet hole. he groans, feeling his dick get hard watching you squirm.

"oh, you like that, hm?" he whispered, his voice a low, rough purr. "you like the way i play with this fuckin' cunt, huh?"

another whimper of pleasure escapes you when you feel his finger dip into your folds, your head tilting back as you cling onto him. "yes, fuck, yes... feels better than i imagined..."

he hums, his hands continuing to wander over your body. he leans in, his lips brush against your ear. "y'know, i've been imaginin' this too..."

breath hitching at his words, your eyes lock onto his, your chest heaving with each pant as katsuki rubs your throbbing clit silly.

"yeah?" you murmur, the thought of him actually thinking about this too was insane. too good to be real.

the thought of him, maybe jerking his dick off to your pretty face, imagining all the ways he'd make you feel... it was enough to make your velvet walls clench down on nothing, the sensation painful by the second.

"yeah," he nods slowly, putting a finger in between your folds, spreading them to tease the pulsating hole gushing with your slick. "been thinking about this for a while now.... you have no fuckin' idea how hard it's been to keep my hands off you."

"it's been torture, y'know. seein' you around, knowin' i can't have you the way i want you."

katsuki pressed his lips to the tender skin of your neck, his breath coming out in puffs. his lips leave a trail of kisses from your neck to your collarbone, possessive and with tender care.

"but not anymore. tonight, i'm gonna do exactly what i've been dreamin' about."

"katsuki..." you whimpers his name, your voice a soft, needy sound. you clutch at his shoulders, your entire body trembling with need.

his words were like an invitation, the whispered plea to take care of you like he's wanted to do for so long making you gasp. "please... please, katsuki... make me feel good."

he grins with a predatory gleam in his eye. "with fuckin' pleasure."

he stands up to pull away from you, his body towering over yours. he stands there for a moment, just looking down at you, admiring the sight of you looking all vulnerable. he reaches behind your ass, patting it softly.

"lift your legs up f'me, sweet girl."

your heart pounds in your chest, but eagerly lifts your legs up, spreading them a little. you're completely at his mercy now. you've never felt more vulnerable yet so, so fucking horny.

katsuki kneels down, his hands sliding up your thighs again, tracing patterns on your skin. "so soft..."

he tugged gently on your shorts along with your panties, his fingers tracing along the bare skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps along his path. "these are in the fuckin' way.."

he tossed your clothes aside with a flick of his wrist, letting them fall somewhere lost in the room.

you were left there, legs bare and exposed, the cold air caressing your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. you felt shy, cheeks flushing with embarassment and desire.

but even in the cold air, katsuki thought you looked absolutely gorgeous, every inch of your body on display for him and his gaze alone.

katsuki was struck speechless, his jaw slack as he drinks in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire.

"you're so damn beautiful.. so eager, too" he murmured, his thumb trailing down to your wet slit. "but we gotta be quiet, okay? party's still going on down stairs."

a huff escaped your lips as you tried to pout, but it only served to highlight your lips in a subtle way. you knew katsuki had a point, but you still couldn't help but feel a little annoyed.

"meanie," you muttered under your breath. "how am i supposed to be quiet when you're doing thi—"

"shhh," he shushes you, his finger brushing against your lips as his thumb slowly goes in and out of your hole. "you know we have to keep it down, or your brother will hear. don't want him comin' up here, do you?"

"fine.." you pouted at him, clearly annoyed as you looked up at him.

your tongue darted out, licking and then lightly biting his finger on your lips, drawing it into your mouth with hungry motions. your eyes never left his, your gaze full of defiance and unabashed want.

a smirk tugged at the corners of katsuki's lips as he watched your lips wrap around his finger, the sight and feeling enough to send a bolt of heat through his body. he could see the hunger in your gaze, and it only intensified the need building up within him.

he pulls his finger out of your mouth with a pop, leaving you with a small gasp. "is that supposed to be an apology for callin' me a meanie?"

raising an eyebrow, a soft smile plays at the corners of your lips. "maybe. did you like it?"

he chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "i'd be lyin' if i said i didn't. but you know what i'd like more?"

katsuki moved his hand, his fingers trailing down your warm cunnt, slowly putting a digit inside of you, rubbing your throbbimg clit with his thumb.

"this pretty little thing right here," he murmured, his fingers slowly curling inside of your walls, exploring your sweet spots. "all wrapped around my dick."

a soft gasp escaped you as he continued to curl his fingers inside you, the sensations coursing through your body, making you writhe beneath him. it just felt so good, your body was responding to his touch in ways you couldn't control.

"but i gotta get you ready, okay?" he loved how responsive you were, how your body reacted to him. he continued to tease you, his fingers still softly running through your wet walls, the gummy skin beneath it growing warmer with every pass. it only fueled his own need. "need you all nice and wet f'me first.."

you bit your bottom lip, trying to muffle the soft moans that kept slipping out as your hips squirmed against him, seeking friction and more of the wonderful sensations he was making you feel.

"it... it feels so good," you mumbled, biting your bottom lip to stifle a moan. "don't stop, katsuki.."

he loved how you sounded, breathless and needy under his touch. his fingers continued its pace inside you, moving slowly, as if trying to edge you closer and closer to the release you so desperately longed for.

he could tell how much you were enjoying this, could tell how desperately you wanted more. and he was more than happy to give it to you.

"i won't. i could do this all night."

your gaze flicks down to the spot where he was most vulnerable: his aching boner. it looked so big. so hard. so painful. you just had to help him, right? you looked back up at him, your bottom lip caught in between your pearly whites.

"can i.. can i touch you? can i make you feel good, too?"

katsuki took a sharp breath at your request, his body tensing slightly in anticipation. he was torn between wanting to give in to your touch, to know what it feels like and wanting to be in control, to see you crumbling apart all for him.

eventually, though, his desire for you won out. "yeah. you can touch me."

you hesitated for a moment, unsure what to expect. he looked big, sure. but what if you squeezed it too hard or something? what if he hated it?

katsuki continued to watch you, his own desire growing as he thought about what you might do next. but it was obvious you were nervous. "go ahead, pretty. don't be shy."

you nodded, taking a deep breath as your hand trembled slightly, reaching out towards him. you gently placed your hand down his boxers, feeling his hard cock trapped in his clothes, aching with warmth only you could fix.

katsuki groaned softly at your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he felt the warmth and softness of your hands envelop his cock.

he feels his breathing growing shallower as you explored him. he wasn't used to being touched like this, but the way your hands felt on him was making him want more. of this. of you.

he reached out to take your other hand, his large fingers intertwining with yours as if to reassure you. "just relax. you're doin' great. keep goin'."

your eyes met his gaze, a hot flush spreading across your cheeks as you continued to move your hands down his pants. while he has his hands down yours.

"this is so..." you swallowed, your voice catching whimpers in your throat. "...so lewd."

"yeah," his murmured, watching you react to him. "fuckin' lewd."

"but you like it, don't you?"

you couldn't even deny it. he was right. making each other feel good... and the thought that he'd rather be with you instead of a stupid party downstairs.. you were enjoying this.

"mhm.. y-yeah."

katsuki's smile widened as he heard your admission. it pleased him, very much, to know that you were enjoying this as much as he was.

"good," he pants, his breath hitching when you start to stroke his cock faster. "because i plan on doing.. a lot more than this."

his hand holding yours lets you go, moving to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. he was enjoying this far more than he’d expected, every second pulling him deeper into the moment.

the sight of you like this— it was intoxicating. and what made it even better? knowing he was the only one who got to see you like this, raw and vulnerable, just for him.

"fuck.. fuck, you're so beautiful.." his words were filled with such awe and sincerity, he almost sounded like he was yearning. yearning for the taste of you. what you'd feel like around him, clenching down on his cock instead of his fingers.

your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. instead, you let out a soft, breathless laugh, trying to play it off.

“don’t... say things you don’t mean,”

"hey," he panted, his voice low and steady, laced with a softness you couldn't ignore. "look at me."

you couldn't ignore the gentle command in his voice, and slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. "what..?"

his thumb brushed across your cheekbone, the touch gentle but firm as his fingers continued to play with your warm insides.

"i meant what i said. you're... the most beautiful thing i've ever seen."

you let out a soft whimper, his words and touches starting to stir something inside you. the only thing that was keeping you grounded was keeping your hands occupied, stroking him, thumbing at his tip leaking with white pre.

"stop that," you protested, your voice a soft, breathless plea.

a low chuckle rumbled in his throat, drinking in every reaction and twitch of your body you couldn’t conceal, beating his fingers deeper into you. "why should i stop, hm?"

you gasped aloud at the feel of his digits pressing into your cervix, feeling the heat and strength of him. "b-because.."

"because what?" katsuki pants, his breathing shallow from the way you stroke his cock. how could he have it all? how could he sweet talk to you like this and finger you like pro? "sh-shit, you feel so good, god.."

you let out a strangled sob, your body arching instinctively into his as you felt the evidence of his desire on your folds, his pre all over your clit. the friction between them was exquisite, sending shudders through your entire being.

"b-because..." you tried again, struggling to articulate your thoughts. "because... it's embarrassing.."

his lips curled into a smirk at the sound of your breathless whispers and gasps. it was like music to his ears. he loved how you couldn't seem to keep yourself under control.

his mouth hovers a mere millimeter from the skin of your neck, before taking a nibble out of the supple skin. "s-so what? i like it when you’re.. embarrassed."

"shut uppp," you whine, tears of pleasure spilling from your eyes as his fingers fuck you harder. "katsukiii.. im.. close.."

the sound of his name slipping from your lips, breathless and almost desperate, caused his heart to leap in his chest and desire to flare hotly within him.

katsuki couldn't take his eyes off of you, your head thrown back, eyes glossy of how good he makes you feel, your words a plea. he wanted to tease you, to make things last, but he was just as close as you were.

���me too,” he growled, groaning as he bucks his hips into your fist. "fuck, i want you.. so bad, it fuckin' hurts.."

"katsukiii," you whimper, voice shaky and broken by sobs. his name is the only word you can form, the only plea you can make. "i'm... i'm..."

he can see it in your eyes, the way your body quivers beneath his touch, begging for release. your voice, shaky and broken, is the sweetest sound he's ever heard, and he knows he's close too.

katsuki's hand continues to move, slowly sliding across your folds before settling on the smooth skin of your clit, rubbing it feverishly.

he knew exactly what you needed, what you both needed.

"i know," he whispers, his voice a breathless growl. "i know. just cum for me, sweet girl, c'mon."

your body tenses at his words, your breath hitching in your throat at the feel of his fingers reaching your sweetest spot.

you let out a soft, guttural moan, your body arching against his as you lose yourself in the waves of pleasure that crash through you, painting his fingers white.

he feels your body tense, face buried in the crook of his neck as you cling to him, shuddering and writhing against him as you ride out your high, and it's almost too much for him to take.

"f-fuck," katsuki groans, bucking his hips into your hand one last time before spurting ropes of cum on your pussy, thick and sticky all over you.

his hand pulls away from the tight hold of your cunt, gently putting your hand away from his now soft cock. he held you close, the both of you trembling in the aftermath.

feeling you shiver in his arms, your breath slowly beginning to even out, your face buried in his neck, is the most satisfying feeling he's ever experienced.

he gently runs his hand along your back, soothing you and trying to bring you back down to earth. he slowly pulls back, his body still close to yours with his arms still wrapped around you.

he can't help but smile at the sight of you, flushed and panting, your hair mussed up and your eyes half-lidded. he reaches up, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "you okay, pretty?"

you slowly opened your eyes, nodding shakily, your breaths starting to even out as you slowly come back to earth. you can still feel the aftershocks of the orgasm rippling through your body, making your limbs feel deliciously heavy and boneless.

"y-yeah. i'm okay. just... i just need a second. that was..." you trail off, not quite sure how to put into words the intensity of what just happened.

he chuckles softly, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. he loves the way you look right now, all flushed and breathless, and he can't help but feel a sense of pride that he's the cause of it.

"yeah, that was.." he trails off, his words escaping him as well. he glances at the top of your head before giving it a soft, lingering kiss. "you were amazing, by the way."

your face flushes hot again as you lift your head from the crook of his neck, your eyes meeting his, a playful grin spreading across your face. "you were pretty amazing too. even if you made a mess all over me."

you glance back down at the gooey mess katsuki made at your folds, feeling his creamy slick ooze down there to your thighs.

katsuki barks out a laugh, the sound rough and amused as his eyes roam over your face. "and who's fault is that, huh?"

his gaze drops down to examine the mess he made, before reaching for his hand that was down your cunny, licking his fingers clean, tasting your sweet slick on his tongue. "don't act like you didn't make a fuckin' mess too..."

you watch him lick his fingers with an almost unbearably seductive ease, feeling embarassed just watching him. "shut up. don't pretend that you didn't like it."

"oh, i definitely liked it," he purrs, enjoying your bashful response. "and i'll have you know that i liked a lot of things we just did."

he reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly gentle. "shit... you really are a sight when you're like this, y'know that?"

you glance up at him and scoff, your embarrassment evident as you avoid his gaze. but before you can say another word, the music from the party begins to fade. your brother's party was coming to an end.

the realization hits you— your older brother would soon be looking for katsuki.

he realized that the night was winding down as well. he knew that he'd have to face your brother soon, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought.

katsuki reaches out, gently tilting your chin up so that you're looking at him. "i guess that means i'm gonna have to let you go now, huh?"

you look up at him, biting your bottom lip, and give a small, subtle nod, too bashful to voice how disappointed you were at the thought of him leaving.

he notices the tiny bite on your lip, and he can't help but feel a flicker of something warm in his chest at the sight. his hand moves to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, freeing it from between your teeth. "trust me, i don't want to leave too."

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you try to play it cool, acting like it didn’t matter whether he stayed or not. still, your nerves get the better of you as you gently bite down on his thumb. "then don’t go. text my brother that you already left or something..."

he laughs at your attempt to appear nonchalant, your actions betraying what you reallt wanted. he can feel how much you wanted him to stay as you gently bite down on his thumb, and it only fuels his own desire to stay. "you're askin' me to lie to your brother, huh?"

you roll your eyes, your teeth sinking into his thumb with a little harder. "oh, please. it wouldn’t be the first time you lied to him."

he winces slightly as you bite down on his thumb, his smirk giving way to a wry chuckle. "fair enough.'

his thumb slips out of your mouth, his hand resting against the side of your neck instead. "you're a bad influence, y'know that?"

"and all this time i thought you were just my best friend's sweet, cute little sister."

"all i heard was sweet and cute, thanks."

he scoffs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still unable to hide a smile. "tch, smartass."

you lock eyes with him, the connection electric, as the both of you lean in slowly, the world around you seeming to fade. just as your lips are about to meet his, the sound of footsteps reaches your ears—your brother's voice calling out to katsuki, drawing you both back to reality in an instant.

panic flashes across your face, and in a rush, you both scramble to get dressed, fumbling with your clothes as you try to hide any trace of what just happened.

katsuki hastily throws his shoes on, and your eyes dart nervously toward the window. without a word, you push it open, offering him a quick escape.

he glances back at you, his expression unreadable, and just before he climbs out, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

its affectionate, its sudden, but it sends a spark through your chest, leaving your heart racing and a warmth spreading across your face amidst the cold air from the window.

after that, katsuki leans in once more, his lips grazing yours before he whispers. “i’ll text you, okay? don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily."

but before you could respond, his lips found yours again, this time more insistently, a rush of warmth flooding through you. he pulled away just enough to glance at you, his gaze full of mischief.

"i'm serious, pretty," he murmured, placing another quick kiss on your lips, his hands lingering on your waist.

you laugh softly, the sound light despite the tension between them, pushing him gently towards the window.

“you’re ridiculous,” you laugh as he attacks you with kisses, unable to hide the smile on your lips. “gooo, before my brother comes in here looking for you."

katsuki smirks, catching your lips in another kiss, this one more lingering, more desperate. "promise me you'll text back."

you chuckle, shaking your head but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "yes, yes, i promise. now go, before i change my mind."

reluctantly, he pulls away, planting one last lingering kiss on your forehead, looking at you longingly and brushing your hair behind your ear. "i’ll text you, i promise."

and with that, he slipped out of the window and disappeared into the night. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. the sound of your brother’s knock on the door snaps you back to reality.

you brother opens the door, peeking out of your room for a bit. "hey, did you see bakugo anywhere?"

you force a calm smile, hoping your heart isn't pounding too loudly.

"no, i haven’t seen him."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ part two smau ! ]

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ ohmygosh!! finally!! im done!! this was so stressful to write but so fun, i hope you enjoyed it!! lemme know if youre interested for a part two^^ anyway, here are the tags: @thatone16216 @spltbtch @katsuisbaby @natsukicookies @dragonscribble @katsucookies @r11k4

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bucky who starts a purely platonic physical touch giving friendship with reader… until it turns into more

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡  ｡✭･ﾟ

It starts off so innocently. Bucky just sat really close to you one day and noticed how the touch of your shoulder on his made him tingly all over.

The same happened when your hand brushed his, or you passed close by, and he caught a whiff of your hair - something that reminds him of the feeling he now seeks out when you’re around.

It’s no secret that either of you have been single a long time with basically no prospects for a future relationship, so no one questions when you and him suddenly hang out more.

He invites you over when you ask him if he was okay, and he realized that his day was in fact crappy and that if you offered to talk to him, he’d tell you all about it.

And when you sit on the sofa listening to Bucky talk, your hand instinctively found his and before Bucky knew it, his head was pressed into your shoulder, your nails raking over his scalp releasing a feeling within him, he can only describe as heavenly.

He loves it when you comfort him, and he loves comforting you, somehow knowing that you need this part of your friendship just as much as he does.

So it becomes a regular thing: when the rest of the team returns home to their spouses after a tiring mission, you and Bucky retreat to either one of your apartments under the pretense of not wanting to be alone.

Of course, neither of you planned for it to become so touchy and intimate... no, that would be insane, right?

It’s a normal afternoon for the two of you, hanging out at your place, a movie playing on TV, Bucky’s head buried in your chest as he lays half on top of you and you with your back against the sofa. Your hand rakes over his hair as his are halfway tugged beneath your body, seeking all the warmth he can get.

The physical touch aspect of your relationship has somehow crossed the lines between friends, but neither of you care. It feels too good to be held and protected to stop.

Bucky hasn't felt the caring touch of a partner in decades and you... well, let's just say that all men before Bucky didn't feel the need to express their love through aftercare - not that Bucky is in any way shape or form about to give said aftercare... no, you are just friends. Just. Friends.

Friends who frequently hide their hands in the other's jacket when the cold catches up to them.

Friends who bury their faces in each other's chest and lap like it is the most normal thing a person can do to another.

Friends who somehow always wonder if the other feels that spark ignite whenever they hold each other close.

Bucky feels the sensation when he's practically caging you beneath his upper body of the sofa. He lifts his head as he usually does to see if maybe this time he could magically hear your thoughts.

"What's up?"

He shakes his head. "I just really enjoy this." he mumbles and blushes, and your hand suddenly stops its path along his scalp.

"Me too." you smile and look into his eyes.

normally he'd put his head back, and you'd resume watching the movie, but something is different today.

maybe it's the way his hair looks perfectly tousled by your constant motions, or maybe it's the way he slowly blinks at you like a very comfortable pet.

but you finally find the courage to kiss him.

Follow my library blog for fic updates! @espinosaurusrexex-library

[reignpage]

Merman!Nanami saw you. 

Merman!Nanami watched you remove the cloth from your body, leaving you more bare than he had ever seen a human be. The slopes of your body, the smooth appearance of your skin, and the knowledge, derived from his more adventurous merman friends, of that hot and wet hole between your long bottom limbs sent him flushing with shame and fascination. 

When you left, so did he, straight to his favourite place in the sea.

Merman!Nanami’s fingers rub the rim of the slit on his tail. They tickle the opening, sending blood rushing down to the place so often abandoned. The scales there are thinner and more reactive, needing to be stroked to swell up and part. Being a member of a pod, he rarely ever has the privacy to hide away in a bed of seaweed as he does now. So, when he’s able to obscure his scaled body from any prying eyes, he allows those fingers to delve inside the slit ever so slightly to tease out the sensitive limb in there.

With his other hand, he flicks his own nipples, loving the way it sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. When his nails scrape the bud, his abs tense, forcing his head back and his gills gaping. The fins lining his spine vibrate, glowing an embarrassing dark blue, the only source of light in the depths. Grateful for the grounding tether the weeds of the sea provide, Merman!Nanami can rest his tail and focus solely on reaching his peak.

Cock pushing out, he hurriedly squeezes the base, lest the water pressure forces his cum out prematurely – no, Merman!Nanami wants to enjoy this as much as he can whilst he hastens his pace. Plucking a slithering seaweed, he ties one end around the root of his cock, tightening it to stop the cum spraying out, and uses the other end to rub against his tip. The smooth sensation feels amazing against the slot, sparking dizzying pleasure through the length and up his torso. Rubbing it in a sawing motion, he grunts from the way it presses into the pink skin there. 

Bubbles leave his lips.

Fuck. If he can’t keep his cool, he’ll signal his location to other mermen. Carefully, he takes another seaweed, thicker, and bites onto it, tying a knot around the back of his head to keep his mouth muffled.

Your hands would probably feel better than his own hand. You’d probably rub tight and fast just as he does, tongue sliding along the sensitive opening on his tail and digging a little deeper into the cranny. The other mermen boast about their ability to find their way around the human pussy; he'd love to search for this magical button that hurtles you towards your orgasm faster. Merman!Nanami imagines the way you'd bounce in his grip, how your long limbs would wrap around his body, baring yourself to him and his sharp teeth. The mounds of fat on your chest would rub against his length just right, squeezed tight between them. He'd kill to feel the tight heat of your pussy wrapped around his cock.

Growing close, he releases the seaweed wrap from his base and lets it float away. Images of your face, your hair, body, and smile fill his head, stealing his breath and threatening to drown him in his own overwhelming desire. If he could get his hands on you, could speak to you, seduce you with his song, he'd dive right in, suckling on your skin, suffocating your mouth with his. He'd make you his until you feel just as manic with obsession as he is.

You'd love him as he does you.

Merman!Nanami cums hard at the thought, spurting ropes of his cum into the sea and rivalling the saltiness around him. The seaweed gag's torn off with his punishing grip, disappearing into the abyss. Body spasming, he dreams of your warmth, of your laugh, and the sweetness he might never get to taste.

Flushed and dizzy, he scoops up a drop and sucks it into his mouth – he wonders if you’d like how he tastes, if it’s different to the surface men and if it would bother you. Floating down and down and down, he slumps against the seabed, cock softening and shrinking back into its home just as his eyes flutter shut with the image of your bare body frolicking in his home, tempting him to steal you away. 

Maybe one day he will. 

[thbbie]

༄ choso x f!reader

choso goes feral when hes eating you out.

a certified munch if you've ever seen one.

he's eager, it's so cute.

but choso can't help himself. not when he sees you spread out for him, not when he gets a whiff of you through your panties, not when he sees you smiling down at, not when you tug at his hair, not when you call out his name, not when -

but you've been working, for hours. tied to your desk with all that you had to get done and poor choso just wanted attention, to spend time with you, in you, to taste you, to hold you. but no. you wouldn't let him, brushing away his advances because you have other 'more important' things to get done.

he understands that he's a curse, but it can be so frustrating when his pretty (human) girlfriend gets so caught up in well, being a human. fulfilling the responsibilities you have in your human life and working to provide for your human self (and cutie pie curse boyfriend)

it isn't all bad, he loves taking care of you when you get home after a long day, he's so attentive and he knows you like that. what he cannot stand the most is when his poor darling has to work so hard while away from him and still have to work at home when she should be spending time with him.

it isn't a matter of selfishness. it's purely concern for you

and so he sets his plan in motion.

at first, he'd tried to coax you away from your desk and into bed, you could bring your computer! he just wants to be somewhere more comfortable, maybe the couch? but you quick shut him down, knowing yourself (and your loved) too well,

"no cho, i won't get anything done. we can cuddle and watch that show you started for as long as you'd like after."

plan a, resulted in failure. choso? he remains unfazed and entirely determined.

though also, at a complete loss.

so instead of sitting around twiddling his thumbs or plotting another plan doomed for failure he'll instead choose to sit on the floor next to you, resting his head in your lap. you give him a once over with a suspicious look in your eye, your tone warning, "choso."

"i know, i know" he says sadly, eyes down cast and fiddling with the material of your shorts, "your busy, i'll wait for you but i just wanna be near you baby. is that okay?"

his dark eyes look up at you sadly, so sincerely, oh how could you say no to something so sweet. you'll allow it.

you type away at your computer, stopping when your reading something l, revising your notes, every once in a while your hands would come down to card through his dark hair, stretching at his scalp while he purrs in your lap, fingers pausing their fidgeting. his hands dig into your soft thighs at the feeling of your nails on his skin, the action remains the same though the circumstances are different; the effect remains unchanged as well.

an uncomfortable stir in his pants, they get tighter and tighter as does the grip he has on your thigh, lost in his own world up until you yelp out at the pain of his grip. and oh as guilty as he feels for hurting you, that only encourages him. you sound so pretty, he needs more.

"mm sorry baby." he says when you shot him a glare, releasing your thigh from his strong grip, faint red marks left behind. he soothes them by running his hand over the skin gently, missing the feeling of your hand in his hair, of you in his mouth-

he peaks up at you again, almost shyly as if there isn't filth running rampant in his mind. his nimble fingers moving to play with them hem of your shorts, checking to see if you'll notice. when you don't, he slips them beneath the soft fabric, feeling the smooth expanse of your delicate skin.

choso moves from sitting next to you to sit between your thighs, shuffling around trying to get comfortable in the small space. his face is so close to your core under the cramped space of your desk, he can smell you. the dewy wetness of your prefect pussy. how long have you been keeping it from him?

he inches closer and closer to you, nose pressed against your core, obscured only by the thin layers of you panties and shorts. are you even wearing panties? his nose presses deeper into your softness trying to figure it out for himself. his conclusion? you were not.

what a teasing thing you are.

wet and sitting pretty without any panties .

choso clicks his tongue.

he pulls away, just barely, as he shifts around from between your legs, repositioning himself to get comfortable when suddenly he's yanked back by your hands in his hair. the hold you have on him is tight, stinging. just the way he likes it.

he'd almost forgotten the rest of you was there, so entranced by your cunt; the only part of his busy girl that would give him a lick of attention.

he speaks something against you but you don't hear it, muffled by your shorts and core. "mhmhhjm~" his words muffled by you as your thighs come over his shoulders, effectively caging him in .

choso knows what you want, and for a brief moment he contemplates punishing you, but ultimately decides against it. he's hungry, your punishment can wait. choso isn't selfish about anything in the world but your cunt.

he licks a broad strip, your wetness doing well in soaking through the flimsy shorts, but he spits on the mess before diving in, just for good measure.

he takes on of your hands in his own, holding you to keep himself grounded, to let you know he loves you. his other one busy gripping and groping your flesh, all that he can get his hands on. your just too pretty. they run over your belly and your thighs, your hips and your breasts, your arms and your calves. all of you.

he's everywhere. everywhere but directly where you need him.

he licked and prodded at your hole through the thin drenched fabric, easily finding you clit despite the dividing barrier and he sucks at it fervently.

"cho.. hah cho, please, i-i , mmm oh~ ineed, i need you baby."

your just so good. you taste so good. you feel so good. he feels light headed. you lean back in your chair to get a look at him, and oh the view. it's one you want tattooed and burned in your mind.

his thin brows pulled together desperately, nose deep in you with his eyes glossy and watching your body as it convulses and twitches from pleasure. smooth pale cheeks flushed red, his ears and neck too. he looks like he's the one being eaten.

when he catches your gaze he pulls away for a moment, revealing the bottom half of his face. completely slicked in you. covered in your essence, doing his best to lick it all, not wanting a single drop to waste away. you think you could cum at the sight.

over come with the need, choso pushes your chair out, so he can slip through and kiss you. it's messy an lewd and you can taste yourself on him. both of you panting into each others mouths, you own face not streaked with the mess he has on his.

choso grinds into you while he's away from four pussy, his hands at the side of your face and eyes closing desperately in the kiss. he holds you so tenderly, all his love and need spilling into it. from his eyes too. choso cries, into the kiss, warm salty tears slipping from his check and landing on yours.

he breaks the kiss, stilling his hips and just holds you for a moment; looking deep into your eyes. it's a lot, it's vulnerable and raw and that's choso. still panting, unable to catch his breathe, chasing it is fruitless so he says what he needs to without it, "i-i, hah h, i love you. i love you [name]. you're, hh~ the only thing i could ever, hahh, love."

he plants a small peck to your lips, short and innocent, because in the midst of you ravenous need for one another, in the midst of all the lust and longing for you, he still loves you sweet and tender. he holds your dazed gaze for a moment, as if to ensure his words have reached your feverish blissed out brain, and without another word, without waiting for your response, he dips back under your desk to breathe you in like it's the only air he wants to breathe. to lick and suck away at you through your shorts like it's the only drink he ever wants.

choso is insatiable when it comes to you,

successfuly bring you to that sweet high more times than you can count, ripping one after the other from you. sweet cries of his name spill form you like a fountain as he makes love to your pussy. he gives you breaks when your voice starts to break, kissing around the tender covered flesh, the delicate skin that peaks out of your shorts, teasing him, leaving behind markings of teeth and tongue.

and choso is in love with you, his hand never letting go of your own, intertwined together so deeply. but it's not only your hands or your bodies, his heart and his soul are tied to you. his mind and all that makes him himself. it is yours.

[quarterlifekitty]

Follow up to this post (sorryyyyyy this took like 300000 years) Simon Riley/Reader

You glance down at the list on your phone, slowly ambling along with the shopping trolley while Joey directs all of his focus towards the little tupperware of yogurt melts in the cupholder. He picks up another piece with his tiny thumb and forefinger, pushing it into his mouth and teething as is starts to dissolve. You could always trust him with food— ever since he'd been old enough to hold onto his snacks. He'd never spit things out or throw them to the floor. Simon never wasted food either.

A sigh leaves your lips as you're forced to recon with the price of cold medicine. You know you should get it now— it's snowing out, and it's be a pain in the ass to be caught without it. Well, you could probably make do, but you'd count yourself as a bad mama if you didn't at least keep some of the stuff for infants stocked. In the cart it goes, ticking up the total you're keeping in your head.

Joey makes a gurgle the calls your attention. You could be imagining it, but it seems like his hair is getting a little lighter— maybe he's taking after his father? The same dark eyes, too. You smile when you see him and all of the tiny little ways he's growing every day. But can't help but wonder if Simon might've stayed— if he'd known you were going to have such a pretty, sweet baby. Nothing short of angelic.

-x-

You look different. Of course, it wasn't as if Simon had expected you to look exactly the same. Truthfully, he wasn't expecting to see you ever again. You look, somehow, more beautiful than he remembered. Tired, but beautiful. The cute little fella in your cart doesn't hurt. While he knew he coudln't be the one to give them to you, he'd always known any baby that came from you would be gorgeous.

He wants to be happy that you'd found someone who could give you that. Someone who must've wanted the same thing you wanted. A better man than him, almost assuredly. He tugs the hood of his jacket up, as if that'll make his brick shithouse of a body any less conspicuous— he's wearing all black against the painful white of the flourescent light and linoleum floor. The jarring beep from the card reader you're using jerks him out of his self consciousness.

-x-

Fuck. Your paycheck must not've cleared just yet. You'd thought for sure it had, but you'd been wrong before and you'd be wrong again before the day was out, most likely. It was embarassing enough to have a card decline when you were alone, but with a baby in your cart? You hope to god no one's looking at you and thinking about calling social services. Just as you're about to take the world's deepest breathe to suck up what could potentially be a torrent of tears, a pale, tattoed arm glides into view and taps a beaten-up piece of plastic to the reader. You turn to see a familiar set of dark eyes perched above a black facemask.

You stutter out an unsteady th-thank you, almost in a daze. Joey picks that moment to mumble some vague simulacrum of the syllables you'd utter, trying to copy the intonation.

Simon had never been a chatterbox. Sometimes it was a relief, and sometimes it was agonizing. The silence that accompanies the three of you as he follows you to your car is somehow both. You put Joey, all bundled with his tiny striped hat pulled tight over his ears, into his car seat before anything else. Simon's already popped your trunk and started putting bags inside.

You walk around and turn the ignition, just to get the heat going for baby. And—

… there's nothing. You feel like the sound you release in frustration echoes in the snowy car park.

-x-

The energy in Simon's car was tense. He'd offered to jumpstart yours, of course, but you didn't want to have your baby waiting around in his car while you tried to make it work. Seemed a better option to just strap his car seat into Simon's car and have him drive you home. You'd go back for your car another time.

Meanwhile, Simon's starting to get more and more furious with whoever the father in this scenario is. It was becoming clearer and clearer that he wasn't in the picture— and why the hell not? You're beautiful, the baby is an angel— even if he hadn't been cut out for fatherhood, how could he do this to you? Leave the mother of his child without enough for groceries, and with that shitbox of a car? Before he knows it, Simon has a growing to-do list in his mind. Once he's got you home, he's going on a hunt.

Home. It wasn't his home anymore. You had gotten despondent, nervous, and he was terrified of not being what you wanted, what you needed.

He carries the groceries in for you, of course. He feels transfixed as he watches you handle your baby, setting him on you hip in a well-practiced motion while you dig out your keys and jam them into the lock. Must still be sticky, like it was when he left. Whether Simon knew it or not, he'd find himself offering to tend to that too.

You set Joey down on the old recliner by the door, tugging off his tiny boots, hat, and other winter accoutrements. They go onto the coatrack, though their size makes it look a little ridiculous. Like you have a fucking build-a-bear for a roommate. The empty hook stares back at Simon.

While you set your baby in his play pen, Simon finds himself falling into old habits. Putting away the groceries. Everything is more or less in the same place. There's a feeling in his diaphragm that wells up, empty and sorrowful at the knowledge none of this belongs to him, and as soon as these things are away, he should leave. Maybe threaten the landlord on his way out regarding the lock.

"I'm going to put on a cup of tea. Do you want one?"

He nods, feeling his words catch in his throat. You don't bother to ask him if he takes it the same way you remember. Some things never change.

The little table in the kitchen still has a slight wobble. He tags it in his mind as something that needs to be fixed. That mental list is a long one. Before long, you have a mug and an opened pack of Arnott's assorted biscuits in front of him. There's more scotch fingers than anything else. You never used to leave them for last.

When you're sat in front of him, after a few deep breaths and sips of your black tea (he'd watched you add the same metric fuckton of honey you always did), Simon finds himself feeling uncharacteristically… chatty. He has a million questions, most of which have answers that would probably hurt you to say and hurt him to hear.

"I don't know how to thank you… For the groceries, the ride, all of it. I'm not sure what I would've done. I wish there was more I could offer."

If you had to guess what he'd want in exchange for his kindness, you'd guess he'd want to be left alone. That you'd let him leave quietly again. But you don't know how to offer that without it sounding backhanded. He casts his gaze over to the playpen for a moment, and you follow it.

"'Ow old is he?" The question catches you off guard. It occurs to you for the first time that Simon might not know this is his baby.

"Eight months. His first birthday will be in March." He squints as if his eyes have the ability to zoom, watching as your son sucks on some silicone teething keys.

"Woulda thought he was… younger."

"He's kinda small. He was born premature and he still hasn't really caught up to where he's supposed to be, weight wise. But he's healthy otherwise. His name is Joseph, but I call him Joey. Hi Joey-bear," you say, waving towards the playpen as your baby gurgles happily. That's one thing he doesn't share with his father— the expressiveness.

Then again, Simon's currently got a look of concentration on his face as if he's helping mission control launch a rocket. He's doing mental math. And he suddenly feels ready to kick his own ass.

Premature. And you were alone.

"So he's mine." It's not a question. He may not have wanted to be a father, but he did love you. He trusted you. The baby couldn't have been anyone else's given the timing.

"Yes, he is. Biologically, at least." His jaw aches from how he clenches it.

"When did you find out that you were pregnant?"

"A few weeks before you left. I was trying to figure out how to tell you, and… I knew that the way you left… Well, you didn't leave like someone who wanted to be found."

He wants to ask why you didn't go after him. Call him up and tell him what a bastard he was and that he left you on your own with a baby. But he knows goddamn well why you didn't tell him.

Because you didn't think he'd want to know. That he wouldn't have wanted to help. That if he did come back to take responsibility that he'd end up hating you for trapping him and forcing him to turn into something he didn't want to be.

And you named the damned thing Joseph. He'd never told you about Joseph. What a way for fate to twist the long glass shard stabbed into his gut. It shatters from the torque and leaves a thousand little pieces churning inside him with infinite sharp edges grinding together.

"I always kind of had the feeling that you'd leave. At least this way… it was like I could hold onto a part of you."

Joey picks that moment to whine, starting to get fussy and squirming. You nearly spring up, speeding over to the playpen to lift him up and bounce him with a palm to his back. Simon gets an agonizingly good look at Joey's face while his head is perched on your shoulder, your back to the kitchen. He can't see himself in his face. Just you. Nervous-lipped and innocent.

And fuck, you just look like such a goddamn natural handling his son. That's the only way he can see it now.

"I have to— I'm gonna put him down for a nap, I think he's a little cranky. I'll be right back but, I… I don't want to keep you. Thank you again, Simon," you force out with the littlest crack in your voice, but it seems enormous to him.

The dark circles, the declined card, your car, the lock on your front door, and you're giving him an out. A chance to leave and forget this ever happened offered up on a silver platter. He follows you to the tiny spare room he used to use as some mockery of an at-home office. Now it's a rather quickly assembled nursery. All of it you'd done on your own.

The walls are yellow. There are pock marks from the way things had been mounted on the wall, before. Must've been in a rush to get things ready, hadn't had time to fill them in. He didn't need to know that you cried when the paint wouldn't fill in the gaps, not that you'd expected it to. It was just one of those days where you wanted something impossible to happen because it would've made life a little easier to bear.

You shush and coo at Joey, wrapping him up in his favorite blanket to help him settle. You scoop a plush lion off of the floor to tuck into his arms as soon as you set him down.

"Such a big day for my big guy," you say softly, "I'm sorry your mama keeps getting into trouble." You kiss your pointer and middle fingers, touching them to his forehead as he loses the fight to keep his eyes open. You gasp when you feel the once-familiar sensation of Simon's calloused hand slipping over yours. He pulls you, urges you, into the hall, softly shutting the door behind himself.

You're pulled against him as his restraint reaches its end, mouth hungry and wanting, the welling pit inside him black and empty without the thrum of your pulse beneath his fingertips. He always was a nasty kisser— tongue running against your gums and tracing your teeth. Saliva strings between your panting mouths by the time he pulls away. You just barely manage to wrangle your synapses enough to swallow and clear your throat before speaking.

"Simon. We shouldn't— I won't do this. I can't. I can't handle having you for a night and being alone again. You can forget today happened if you want, forget that you ever found out about us, just don't do this to me."

"You wan' me on my hands and knees, then?" Your brows twist in a pained confusion.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"I'll beg. I'll beg if that's what it takes. If you let me be a part of this."

"A part of this what?"

"This family. I want it."

"You said you didn't—"

"I thought I didn't. I've never wanted to take something back more than that. I didn't… Didn't think anything that came from me could be good. Guess I forgot about your part of the equation. I left because I'm a fucking idiot and a coward. I thought you wanted me to be something I couldn't be." His hand circles the meat of your hip, thumb inching up the hem of your sweater. He feels a few more stretch marks than there were before. You grab his wrist as if to pull him away on instinct, but pause.

"I don't… It's not cute. How my body changed, that is. I don't… I don't think you'll find me all that attractive anymore." Rip out his heart and stomp on it, why don't you? You say it without a hint of bitterness. It wouldn't have hurt so bad if there'd been some venom in it, at least. But no, you say it like it's a fact. Plain and simple.

"Sayin' shite like that… S' like you want me to knock you up again to prove you wrong. Can't believe I missed out on seein' you all full and pregnant… I shoulda been here. Taking care of you."

It's hard not to melt against him. It always was. He's warm and encompassing and makes you feel sheltered.

"You have to promise you won't leave again. Not me, and not him." You've already pressed your cheek to the breast of his jacket. You don't know how you'll be able to live without this— if he decides it a promise he can't make.

He wants to tell you that you have cart blanche to kill him in whatever way you find most suitable if he does something that fucking stupid, but he knows that wouldn't make you happy right now.

"I promise, love. Never again."

[vivimura]

Can u do riki's kinks😖

riki's kinks and turn on's

size difference oop, who didn't see that coming? riki is a whole 184 centimeters, and that's 184 centimeters he's proud of. the way that ever single part of your body is so much smaller than his— it turns him on more than he'd like to admit. he could be doing something as simple as holding your hand, and begin to realize just how dainty they are compared to his. or watch as you look up at him with doe eyes every time he'd call out your name, because he's just so damn big.

his shoulders, so broad almost completely engulf yours beneath him, gave him every bit of control and proof he needed. proof that you were his baby, and it was his job to make you feel good.

tits riki loves tits. it doesn't matter if they are on the smaller side or larger, he will absolutely be obsessed with them. that's just how he is. the way they subtly bounce when he fucks you, or how your back arches when he gives them attention, he loves it all.

he sees you wear a thin shirt with no bra, your nipples poking out almost obnoxiously? boner. during foreplay, or just lazy make out sessions, he'd take it upon himself to kiss and suck on them both. maybe even litter some hickeys if he was in the mood. he simply loves to take in your tits for all their glory, especially the sight of his saliva glistening off of your skin, or little red marks he's made.

manhandling/strength riki would never hurt you. but, that being said, it never fails to turn him on when he realizes just how strong he is compared to you. you could be play-fighting, and he'd just wrap his arms around and smirk lazily, finding amusement in you squirming, pressing your tits against his firm chest, and accidentally rubbing against his crotch.

alternatively, whenever he would feel your thighs closing up around him out of pleasure during sex, he wouldn't waste a second in yanking them apart, hooking them over his shoulders instead. he'd never force you for anything, but just knowing the fact that he could manhandle you into just about any position, and hold you there in place, gets him off like hell.

cum/squirting instead of his own, riki believes that pleasuring you enough to make you orgasm is necessary to trigger his own. he'd go to any lengths to make you feel good, and if he gets you to squirt, he's going home a man happy that night.

just the sensation of your release dampening the skin of his abs or thighs, how it drips down hypnotically, is the most pleasing and proud sight in the world for riki.

being vocal he swears that every sound of pleasure you make creates vibrations that travel straight down to his cock. it could be something even like a small whimper when he's giving you lazy neck kisses, but the fact that he elicits such pretty little sounds of utter pleasure really gets him going.

he values being vocal a lot, to the point he'd probably keep his own sounds at bay until he's heard some of yours. he'd feel incredibly encouraged when you express in words how good he's making you feel during sex. but, he'd also love it even more if you turn into a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him, too pleased to think straight, let alone speak.

eye contact if there's one thing riki can do, no matter the situation, it's to make eye contact. during sex, his intense eyes would bore into yours, and if he'd see you looking back up at him with just as many emotions, he'd put in extra effort to make sure you feel good.

it's part of the reason why he wouldn't be into positions like doggy or reverse cowgirl. he needs to have a look at your face, specifically your eyes, watching how they contort from pleasure he was giving you. he finds it so incredibly intimate, like a little promise of emotional connection and love between all the desires.

cockwarming not exactly a kink or turn on, but riki absolutely loves it. he doesn't do it out of sexual desires, he views it as a form of aftercare. his way of showing that you made him feel absolutely amazing both physically and emotionally.

all he wants is to feel you and be close, both mentally and literally. the feeling of him simply inside you, you being so full of him brought such a comforting and intimate feeling to you and him alike.

oral have you seen riki's tongue? there is no possible argument opposing the fact that it was made to eat out pussy. he was addicted to how you tasted. or maybe he just wanted another part of his body he wanted to use to make you feel good.

he'd love it so much for you to get absolutely gone in the pleasure of his tongue. how your hips would buck when he hummed or chuckled. or the way you'd find the courage to grasp at his hair and guide him, or how loud you'd get when he paid special attention to your clit. he truly would make out with any of your lips.

seeing you in his clothes he could be in the middle of doing absolutely anything, but if he sees you wear one of his shirts or hoodies like a dress, pants and bra ditched, he will put down anything to pounce on you like a feral man.

he loved how the clothes that fit him perfectly hung off of your frame, making you look smaller than you were. making you look absolutely his. sometimes, he'd have you wear just his t-shirt as he fucks you, and would always make sure to get you comfy in his clothes when he takes care of you after.

mlist wips comment and reblog!

[bemusedlybespectacled]

what's happening with James Somerton right now: a probably-incomplete primer

TW: suicide, including suicide as a threat and a manipulation tactic.

The short version:

James Somerton is a former Youtube essayist who focused entirely on queer history, queer media criticism, and queer issues in general. He is also a flagrant grifter who has made tens of thousands of dollars via fraud, both directly (lying about his finances to beg for money and getting donations for films he never even started making) and indirectly (stealing whole essays and articles and books, reading them out loud verbatim for his videos without indicating they were anything other than his own work, and then using the prestige he gained from using their work to get Patrons and sponsorships).

The story as told James and James apologists was that James attempted to apologize twice, was hounded mercilessly on the internet for weeks, and then, driven to the end of his rope, he posted a suicide note on Twitter, was MIA for several days, and from then on has been avoiding the internet.

The actual story, as revealed yesterday, was that James used two sockpuppet accounts to defend himself and parrot his talking points (again, while publicly claiming to be trying to take responsibility for his actions), using one to try to rebrand the con under a different name and another to deliberately stoke the panic caused by his suicide note. He was not only aware of the pain and anxiety he was causing people, but he encouraged it on one alt while hornyposting about his favorite movies on the other.

He is an unrepentant con artist who successfully used a suicide threat to prevent further interference with future cons. The only reason he was caught is because he is apparently incapable of going more than a couple of weeks without trying to get back in the internet spotlight, allowing people to tie his alts back to him. He lies for fun and profit and he should not be taken seriously, ever.

The long version:

In December 2023, Youtube essayist Hbomberguy (Harry Brewis) put out a four-hour-long video about plagiarism on the internet, and devoted two hours to addressing as much of JS's plagiarism as he could. I strongly recommend watching the entire thing, as the first two hours build on the concepts that he uses later in the video.

He also blew the whistle on James' fraud surrounding Telos, a studio James founded using thousands of dollars of IndieGoGo money that never actually produced any films despite him definitely working on them! Any day now they'll be released! Don't you worry!

A day later, Todd in the Shadows, a guy whose entire thing is music reviews, posted his own video debunking multiple outright lies that James had told about history, especially queer history. A few more days later, The Ace Couple, who run a podcast about asexuality, released an episode detailing how they'd lost $1.5k donating to Telos.

I have put the videos, Twitter threads, Patreon posts, and Reddit posts by other people discussing different aspects of James' fraud under the cut.

Every other time James was caught plagiarizing, prior to Harry's video, he would lie about it. Either he'd have some excuse (easily proven to be a lie) or he'd retreat to his favorite deflection: "I'm just being harassed because I'm gay."

This last lie was one he'd use not only to deflect accusations of plagiarism, but all criticism in general, no matter how trivial. Every time, the critic or someone associated with them would somehow dox him, or harass him, or send him death threats, or threaten to falsely accuse him of sexual assault.

This happened to The Ace Couple (who'd tried to correct him on something extremely acephobic in one of his videos), Jessie Gender (who'd tried to correct him when he claimed that there were no queer content creators on Nebula, given that she and a bunch of other queer creators were definitely on that platform), and the person who first blew the whistle on him stealing from Tinker Belles and Evil Queens by Sean Griffin (who was accused of being behind death threats he'd received, and hounded so harshly they had to leave Twitter).

It is important to note that every time James faced potentially damaging criticism, or even just a threat to his ego, suddenly he would claim to be harassed by people connected to the critic, including threats to his life. There has never been any proof of any threats being directed at him, nor evidence that, if the threats were real, that they are actually from people connected to the critic.

In the original video by Hbomberguy, Harry makes a compelling argument that James brought on a friend of his, Nick, as a co-writer specifically as a shield against accusations of plagiarism. "How dare you accuse me of plagiarism! Nick would NEVER do that!" This is even more apparent given subsequent developments which I will get into.

When evidence started dropping about different aspects of his fraud (not only Harry's video, but Todd in the Shadows' video debunking his misinfo, The Ace Couple's podcast about their experience donating to his fraudulent film studio, and Dan Olson's tweet thread about James' obvious lies about his finances), he went into hiding for two weeks, and then put out the first of two apologies. He then deleted that one and put out another one a few weeks later. And then he immediately deleted that one.

While his first apology was rambling, vague, and dramatic (lots of sniffing/crying), and his second was more measured, thought-out, and totally batshit (lots of hilariously and bizarrely implausible excuses for why he'd done what he'd done), they had roughly the same points:

Not ALL of his stuff was plagiarized! Actually, a lot of it wasn't! No specifics as to what, though!

Most of the stuff that was plagiarized was just a failure to properly cite sources, as he had no idea that putting someone's name in your end credits or video description (without specifying what parts are attributable to that person or disclosing that you are using their words verbatim) is not sufficient credit,

Also, he totally had permission, in some cases, to use their work verbatim prior to publishing the video (this is not true, and is disproven both in Harry's video and his own screenshots);

He definitely didn't commit fraud with Telos and would soon have a good explanation for where the money went! (he did not)

He was going to keep the videos up so that he could either donate the funds from any monetization to the fund Harry had set up for his victims or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing his work;

He lost his best friend (i.e. Nick) over these allegations, who absolutely definitely wasn't a scapegoat, except Nick was also responsible for a lot of the stuff James was being criticized for;

He was going to keep the videos up so he could either donate the advertising proceeds to Harry's fund for his victims (first apology) or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing the work he'd done; and

As a result of this entire ordeal, he had attempted either self-harm or suicide (he merely alluded to "doing something stupid").

Again, his response was to 1) downplay the severity of his actions or flat out ignore allegations against him, 2) come up with ridiculous excuses for his behavior, 3) throw Nick under the bus, and 4) claim to be in mortal danger. As far as I am aware, he has never taken any concrete action to make amends to any person, not even donating money to charity.

This was coupled with some kind of attempt to profit: monetizing his apology videos, closing and then reopening his Patreon right before the monthly charge cycle happened (totally to let people unfollow him, not at all as a grab for that money), creating a new Patreon under a different name, and changing his Twitter and Youtube handles to distance himself from the controversy while gathering new followers.

At one point (I forget if this was on Twitter or Instagram), he also said that someone had broken into his apartment due to the notoriety he'd received from Harry's video. I believe that was after his first apology, when people started to point out that he'd just changed the name of his Twitter and Youtube channel and had restarted a new Patreon under a pseudonym. (BTW, the pseudonym he used for his new Patreon was "The Gay Raconteur"; this will be important later).

It had what I think was the desired effect: any attempt at pointing out that he was rebranding his grift now came across as weirdly fixated on minor things he was doing, which certainly wasn't worth putting him in physical danger. (Again, he has never provided any proof of this happening, nor provided any evidence that these people allegedly threatening him were, in fact, in some way inspired by Hbomb).

So along comes March 5, 2024, and James posts a suicide note on his Twitter, saying that he is going to set up his videos to automatically publish (for Nick's portfolio), provide in some way for the ad revenue to go to a suicide prevention nonprofit, and then kill himself.

The immediate response from the internet was compassion and totally chilling any further criticism, since you might be callously criticizing a dead person. Harry and Kat worked for a couple of days to get a wellness check for him while a substantial section of the internet called them murderers.

On March 6, a day after the note was published, Nick tweeted that that he had cause to believe James was fine. Kat confirmed that James was safe on March 11. Due to the drama of the "suicide attempt," however, the chill on criticizing James stayed in place for months.

And then yesterday Lady Emily, one of the cowriters for Sarah Z., drops two more bombs:

James has not one but two alt accounts that he was using to rebrand and start over.

The first one was created between his first and second apologies, and originally was for "The Gay Raconteur" until he changed it to "Will"/"thatgayyouknow" and, later, "The Achillean Boy."

The second one was much older, under the pseudonym "Mikey JB," and used stolen pictures from Grindr instead of his own face. However, it is pretty obvious that it is, in fact, a sockpuppet account and not just some other person who happens to like James, as detailed below.

Both accounts, both between apologies and after his "suicide," talked about how criticism of James was unfair because the plagiarized stuff was "like a decade old" and repeating the same excuses that James had also made.

The "Mikey JB" account not only supported James, but actively threw Nick under the bus, saying that a criticized part of a video "reeks of his co-writer."

On March 6, the day after James' main Twitter posted the suicide note, The Achillean Boy account was hornyposting about Ryan Phillipe. James didn't even take a day or two off of Twitter. If he had been completely off Twitter for a couple of days, that could have been an indication that he really had hurt himself and was unable to access his phone, or at the very least unaware of the panic. But he wasn't. He was aware of it and did nothing. Actually, no! Worse than nothing!

On the same day (March 6), the Mikey JB account was actively contradicting Nick saying he was okay (they "haven't spoken in months" so there's no way Nick could know if he was alive) and saying that "people like you" i.e. his critics, "drove him to it." Not only did he ignore the panic he'd intentionally created, he actively drove it.

He saw people going emotionally through the wringer over the idea that they might have somehow caused his death, and intentionally made them keep thinking it. He say people calling his critics "murderers" for "driving him to his death," and he joined in.

Why am I explaining all of this? I want to make a couple of things extremely clear, and the context is necessary to my ultimate points, namely:

James Somerton didn't merely "credit people improperly;" he conned his followers out of more money than some people make in a year with the Telos con, while raking in thousands more per month on Patreon and buying expensive equipment, while claiming to be near insolvency and in desperate need of money.

James Somerton has never taken full responsibility for his actions or attempted to make amends. He has only ever tried to dodge responsibility, particularly by throwing Nick under the bus.

Every time he has ever been criticized, for any reason, he has lied about threats to his life to gain sympathy and quell criticism. This is a standard part of his MO. He has done this over and over and over again. At this point, I think if he says the sky is blue, someone should go out and check first before doing anything.

"But BB, what if he really is getting harassed/threatened or really is suicidal?"

So, okay: people who are attempting to manipulate you may use legitimate problems as a tool. It doesn't need to be fake to be effective - in fact, it might be more effective if it it's true. An abusive ex who says "if you leave me, I'll kill myself" and genuinely means it and actually attempts it (and possibly even succeeds!) is a lot harder to leave than someone who says the same thing but is clearly just bluffing, because the threat is real.

My rule of thumb in these cases is to treat the threat like it's real, without caving to the intended manipulation. Whether your ex is lying or telling the truth when they say, "I'll kill myself if you leave me," the appropriate response in both cases is to immediately call a mental health service or supportive family member. If it's fake, it's inconvenient for them; if it's real, you reacted appropriately. Your response needs to be the same regardless.

You don't get back together with them because it's a real threat (presumably you wouldn't do that if you knew it was fake and they were never in any danger), and you don't tell them that they're a piece of shit who should be dead (HOPEFULLY you wouldn't do that if you knew for a fact that they were telling the truth).

In this case, I am extremely confident in saying that he was coldbloodedly lying the entire time and was never once threatened, and certainly not to the degree he claimed to be. But even if he wasn't, that does not and should not change anyone's behavior in terms of holding him accountable.

And I mean actually holding him accountable: making sure he doesn't try to start a new con on new people, continuing to point out that he hasn't paid anyone back for his previous con (so long as it's still true), that sort of thing. It doesn't mean people should tell him he should go die for real or, I don't know, try to get him fired if he gets a job at Tim Horton's or Target or something else that's not fraud. That would be wrong regardless of whether he's actually in danger or not. The point is to avoid being cruel without negotiating with terrorists.

Video sources and links under the cut:

Links:

It's like Breaking Bad, but backwards: a brief history of how Somerton successfully screwed himself Dan Olson's Twitter thread about the financial fraud My Year With James: Todd's post explaining the backstory of his video (Patreon-locked) DJSO#: Dan Olson's breakdown of James' second apology (Patreon-locked) Lady Emily's Twitter threads revealing James' alt accounts, part 1 and part 2

[harryspet]

lonely little lamb | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!stepbrother!rafe x stepsister!reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader, dd/lg dynamic, mentions of violence/blood, somnophilia, stalker!rafe, DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: happy OBX4! This was written before the new season :) Dividers by @/ghoulbloggerrr

In which Rafe knows your secret and just how perfect you'd be together.

word count: 7.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Rafe didn’t catch on immediately.  At first, he just thought you were strange, his expectations already tainted by what he'd assumed about you. He’d been prepared for his stepmother’s daughter to be a brat, and on the surface, you fit that mold perfectly. But there was something off about the way you acted around him. You never played innocent, never tried to charm him or win him over like you did with everyone else. You gave him sharp glances at the dinner table when he talked back to Ward and even angrier stares when he disrespected your mother. You never hung around after dinner, always rushing to go back to your room, and “call your friends from back home”. Of course, Rafe listened at your door often and he never heard you making any calls. Having grown up in the house, he felt entitled to know what was happening within its walls.

Your behavior puzzled Rafe to the point of obsession. He woke up every morning to check if your car was still in the driveway and easily memorized your schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you attended classes in the morning at the local community college. On the other days of the week you sat through your online classes. You never ate too early, always going for a late breakfast that usually consisted of avocado toast, a bowl of fruit, and you always came down to refill your “sippy cup”. That’s what Rafe had dubbed it. It was clear, decorated with a stencil design of a baby lamb and had a flip-up spout for easy drinking. You didn’t go many places without it. 

It was the small things that fascinated him. The comfort items you clung to, the simple routines that made your life feel organized and secure. You usually took a bubble bath about thirty minutes after dinner, and when you forgot to lock your door, Rafe would slip into your room, drawn by the intimacy of your private world.

He picked up items around your room, like the frame you kept beside your bed. It held a photo of you and your mom: you in your old high school cheerleading uniform, hair pinned back in pigtails, while your mom smiled widely beside you. Despite her cheerful expression, your eyes in the picture looked wistful and lonely. Rafe couldn’t help but imagine you now, with adult curves and eager eyes, wearing that outfit. The thought stirred something in him, making him hard, and he had to tuck himself away, cursing under his breath. At least if you walked in, he wouldn’t be caught in the act.

The more he learned about you, the harder it was to quiet these thoughts. He had always found you pretty, but now his body and mind were becoming obsessed with you. He made a habit of collecting a pair of your panties from the hamper before leaving. He needed them for later, for the release that he craved, driven mad by the scent of you.

The sound of soft, melodic music flowed into your bedroom from behind the bathroom door. Sometimes it was girly pop songs, other times classical, but more often than not, it had the gentle, soothing quality of nursery music. Your bed was always neatly made, draped in a floral quilt, and you kept the same stuffed animals on top, meticulously placed. A small chesnut brown teddy bear, white bunny, and a tiny stuffed lamb. Each one had their own white ribbon wrapped around its neck, tied into a bow. 

One time he caught a glimpse of your nighttime skin care routine. You removed the light makeup you always wore and used about ten different products that Rafe didn’t recognize, nor could he guess their use. The last layer was always a light layer of lip balm and Rafe always leaned a bit closer when your puckered your lips in the mirror. His mind easily wandered to idea of your lips around him. 

You wouldn’t look so lonely, little lamb, if you just let me in. 

He had his suspicions about the secret, kinky things you were into. There had to be a reason you spent so much time by yourself. He didn’t get the answers he was looking for until one night when you’d left your laptop, unlocked on your desk. He took the opportunity to program his fingerprint into it too, just in case he needed to snoop again. 

He combed through your social media, public and private, and started checking your messages daily, keeping track of who you talked to, what you were up to. Your public social media was perfect. A mix of selfies with soft lighting, photos of cute coffee shops, and other things you deemed as your “aesthetic”. 

It was your camera roll that finally gave Rafe the answers he had been searching for. One folder, marked with a delicate pink heart, caught his attention immediately. Inside were photos of you, taken in front of your floor-length mirror. Each picture was eerily similar, the same vacant, wide-eyed expression on your face, as though you were lost in some faraway place.

You wore pajamas he’d never seen before, soft and childlike. Sometimes it was pastel-colored footie pajamas, other times it was nightgowns in soft shades of pink, lavender, or baby blue. In a few, you were bundled up in fuzzy socks or slippers with floppy bunny ears. Your hair was always styled with bows, either pink or white. There was a strange innocence in these details, one that clashed with the tension building inside Rafe as he scrolled through the images.

Sometimes you were biting down on your nails, others your thumb rested in your mouth, but most of the time you were gripping one of your stuffed animals tight to your chest. 

You looked...adorable. But in a way that made Rafe’s pulse quicken with something darker. The softness, the vulnerability you displayed in those photos, fed his obsession.

Another folder marked with a unicorn emoji held more photos that you’d saved. He recognized some of the characters from children’s TV shows he remembered Wheezie watching. Others were pictures from Disney movies, and Rafe quickly realized you had a special preference for the princesses. You seemed drawn to Cinderalla, Belle, and Snow White. It offered a glimpse into your mind, into your fantasies, how you were drawn to things with an air of purity and sweetness. 

Rafe’s heart slowed when a message popped up from someone named Mr. Hayes. Been thinking about you all day, sweetheart. The message said. A moment later, another one came. How was ur bath? 

Rafe opened the text thread and began to scroll. Each word that he read made his blood boil. There were too many messages for him to read. You’d sent him photos of yourself, let him call you pet names, and you’d even gone so far as calling him… Daddy. He’d never sent you a photo but that didn’t seem to matter. You were willing to share the details of your life with him. 

Rafe’s vision blurred with rage. Daddy. This virtual fantasy, a stranger who you didn’t even know, did not deserve your affection. He decided then you were his, whether you knew it or not. 

Rafe decided then to also make it a habit to check your messages. 

Several weeks later, you’d finally convinced Mr. Hayes to meet you in person. Rafe couldn’t let that happen. As your stepbrother and your protector, it would be wrong of him to let some stranger hurt you. Besides, he’d become obsessed to the point where now he was dying to know exactly who this man was. 

You didnd’t know any better, but he did. 

“Hey,” Rafe spoke to you the afternoon before your secret rendevouz, interrupting your fruit cutting, “My Dad just texted. Him and your Mom aren’t going to make it back tonight. There flight keeps getting delayed so they’re going to stay the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh, okay,” You replied simply, returning back to your task again. 

“Wheezie’s sleeping at a friends and I’m probably going to a party at Kelce’s,” You gave him a look, as if it was strange to be conversating with him alone without the presence of the rest of their blended family, “...Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I’ll just stay in.”

Rafe leaned on the marble countertop, staring across the kitchen island at you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you go out one time since you moved in.” 

Rafe’s sudden interest in your habits had become more noticeable lately, but you figured it was nothing, just him being Rafe, always lurking in the background, watching everyone, everything. Your mother had warned you that she thought something was off about him and living with him over the past nine months had sealed the fact that you didn’t trust him. 

You didn’t trust many people at all, actually, never having had a stable home life. Your mother had always had money, or at least latched on to men who had money, but those men came and went. Even your mother wasn’t someone you could count on. She’d uprooted your life more than once, moving you across states just to be with a man who could give her the lifestyle she believed she deserved.

Mr. Hayes had offered you comfort in this transitional time. You had no one to confide your secret in accept for the communities you found online. It made you anxious to even think about finding a partner one day and having to explain this side of you. Friends on the internet wouldn’t judge you.

But online, the stakes felt lower. The people you spoke with, people like Mr. Hayes, didn’t judge. The risk of being truly seen, and rejected, was something you couldn’t handle. Not yet.

You paused what you were doing, knife hovering over a piece of strawberry, “You really want to spend the night alone. On a Friday night?” 

Rafe sauntered around the kitchen island, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made a shiver run down your spine. He knew he was handsome. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes that always had a raging storm behind them. His gold ring and his gold watch. Most important of all, he knew he intimidated you, his size being enough to make you feel smaller than you actually were. 

“I have to study,” You spoke curtly, trying to cut off the line of questioning you sensed was coming. You moved to keep cutting up your fruit but you paused again when Rafe reached out to grab a piece from the cutting board. You looked up at him as he popped the piece of strawberry into his mouth. 

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe’s lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was thriving on that power, the uncpoken tension in the air. The way he could make your heart race in that mix of fear and something else he knew you’d never admit. 

“Oh yeah?” Rafe placed a hand on the counter, “You have all weekend to study. C’mon, have some fun, princess.”

You took in a breath at the sound of the pet name. He hadn’t ever called you that before and for a moment it looked like he was seeing right through you. 

“I-” Quickly, you turned your head away, refocusing on the task, as your cheeks heated with embarrassment, “I’m okay, thanks.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to come out,” Rafe continued, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, “You got secret plans or something?”

“No,” You said quickly, “I told you, I’m studying.”

Rafe let out a dry chuckle, no real amusement behind it, “You sure you’re not just hiding?”

“It’s not your business,” You snapped finally, your tone icy, “And I… I don’t have to explain myself to you, Rafe. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you, princess,” You dropped the knife, your heart beating too fast, and you quickly picked up your pieces of fruit and placed them in your bowl. Rafe leaned closer, watching your every move, and the intensity of his gaze was starting to unravel you, “You’re so jumpy. It’s just me. No need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” You muttered but your fingers trembled as you grabbed ahold of your bowl of fresh fruit and your lamb cup. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rafe took another step closer and you backed away from the counter.

“Stop it,” Your frustration flared, unsure of why exactly Rafe was trying to stir you up. Your lips pressed together and you tried to stop your reaction, but with him towevering over you, invading your space, you felt effectively suffocated. It wasn’t until your back was pressed into the stainless steal fridge, your bowl the only thing protecting you from being pushed against Rafe, that you actually flinched. 

“Hey,” Rafe lifted on arm, casually bracing his hand on top of the fridge as he looked down at you, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. His voice was deceptively gentle, “Rafe–”

“I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Something flickered in his eyes, something you didn’t recognize, and for a moment, you questioned if you’d read this entire situation correctly, “I know how fragile you are. How scary the world can seem. I’m offering …you know …because I’d be there to protect you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You blinked up at him. Surprisingly, there wasn’t even a hint of him trying to talk down to you. Rafe Cameon almost sounded caring. “You don’t need to be so on guard all the time,” Rafe continued. 

“I just …” You couldn’t stop the way your voice softened, “I like keeping to myself. It’s not that I don’t want to be around people. I just don’t …fit in here.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding, and it was the first time you looked at one another as real people, “I get it. You’re not like the other girls around here. You’re smarter, quieter … softer. You can trust me though, yeah? You don’t gotta hide from me.”

For a moment, everything felt like it would be okay. Maybe Rafe had managed to see you and was willing to understand you, unlike anyone else you had met on this island. It all felt real until you focused more on his eyes. Your expression had softened, melted from frustration to wide-eyed curiosity, and that had caused a shift in his eyes. You saw that flicker of darkness that you’d seen before. 

“I can look after you, ya’ know?” He said, voice dripping to a lower tone, “Help you. You don’t need to worry too much.”

Before you could respond, his other arm lifted, and you felt his fingers graze your cheek, the touch startlingly intimate. 

“What are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Rafe’s jaw tightened, the mask he was wearing beginning to slip, “Don’t be like that, princess.” 

“Stop,” You managed to say, “Stay away from me.”

In just a few hours, you’d finally get to meet Mr. Hayes. None of Rafe’s games would matter then. When you went silent, you watched as Rafe’s hand balled into a fist and he turned his body away. 

“Suit yourself,” He’d said coldly, his void devoid of any of the warmth that was there before.  

You stared down at your bowl of fruit dumbfounded for a moment too long. Princess. How did Rafe know how desperately you wanted someone to call you that?

Rafe stayed at Kelce’s party until eleven He finished his last pabst blue ribbon, said goodbye to only a handful of his friends, before he made his way to his truck. Knowing they would find it strange for him to leave so early, he mad the excuse that he was going to meet up with a girl at the Island Club. 

In reality, Rafe was headed twenty minutes away, towards Winward Beach. Mr. Hayes wanted to meet you at midnight. One of the many red flags Rafe assumed you had ignored. You probably thought it was romantic, meeting at a secluded beach in the middle of the night. Like the two of you were fucking Romeo and Juliet. 

Stupid, Rafe thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

Rafe parked his car in the small parking lot that sat near the boardwalk, turning off all of his lights, and waited for the creep to show up first. Rafe thought for a moment that neither of you might show when midnight started to approach. Maybe you’d wisened up, listened to your gut instinct that told you something wasn’t right. He didn’t believe it for long, you were too trusting. Too soft. 

When a tan sedan that Rafe didn’t recognize pulled up in a parking spot close to the walkway, Rafe knew who it was. In the dark and without any streetlights, he only saw a dark figure carrying a backpack make his way towards the beachwalk. He waited until the figure made it halfway before he climbed out of his truck. 

The moon was high, casting a white glow over the empty landscape. 

Anger simmered beneath Rafe’s skin as he watched the man from a safe distance. He moved with a nervous energy, often glancing over his shoulder as if he was expecting to see someone. Wooden planks creaked softly under his weight but Mr. Hayes didn’t notice, not until he’d made it to the beach, and Rafe appeared behind him. 

The man turned his head, eyes wide with confusion. For a moment, this was all a coincidence. Rafe was a nobody, just a stranger taking a walk on the beach, until Rafe’s lips pulled into a smile, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Hayes was certainly not what Rafe was expecting. A completely unremarkable middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his thinning brown hair, pale skin, lightly freckled and a slight paunch that rested over the waistband of his dreams. A complete creep. Someone completely undeserving of even being looked at by you. 

Anger wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Rafe was feeling, “You’re Mr. Hayes?”

“What?” Up close, Rafe could see the way the man's eyes started to dart around. He took another step further and the man stumbled back in the thick sand, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just–”

“You’re just a coward?” Rafe finished, his tone mocking, “I mean, I understand now why you hid your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

Rafe interrupted again, snarling, his hand lashing out to grab the front of the man’s shirt. He yanked him forward and the man’s eyes went wild with panic, “Meeting up with an innocent girl in the middle of the night? Sneaking around like a creep? What’s in that fucking bag?”

“Nothing!” Mr. Hayes struggled. Rafe couldn’t believe how weak the man was. Strong enough to overpower you, maybe, but weak. As soon as the though of this man pinning you down in the sand crossed his mind, Rafe’s eyes went wild, “Nothing, I’m sorry!”

Rafe shoved him hard and the man stumbled backwards into the sand. He towered over the man, his shadow casting long across the beach. Waves crashed loudly in the background but Rafe’s voice boomed over the sound, “I don’t think you are! You probably thought you could just take what you wanted, huh? Fucking answer me!”

The man scrambled backwards, hands digging into the sand, backward hanging awkwardly from his shoulder. Why didn’t he just drop it …if he wasn’t hiding anything, he would let it go, “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean, I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what? That she was half your age? That she was too good for you?” Rafe’s lip curled in disgust. He knelt down, his face inches from Mr. Hayes’s as his voice dropped to a whisper, “She’s not yours. She never will be.”

“Okay,” He nodded, holding out a hand as if to put distance between them, “I just wanted to meet her. I know I lied. I’m sorry. I won’t …it won’t happen again. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at the trembling man. Without another word, he grabbed for the backpack. The man resisted, of course, a series of “Wait, wait, wait,” leaves his lips. Rafe doesn’t leave space to argue because he pushed his palm into the man’s chest, pinning him down, before he lets his fist connect with the side of the man’s face. 

The man gasps, whimpers, as he curls into a ball on the sand, “F-Fuck!” The creep moans. Rafe pulls away the bag, ripping open the zipper, and dumping the contents onto the sand.

A cheap blanket, a cheap bottle of wine, and then Rafe’s eye catches on the condoms and then then the thick, coiled string of rope. Without another thought, Rafe was tackling the man, grabbing a hold of his collar, pulling him up and slamming his head into the ground over and over again. Rafe didn’t stop. He slammed his fist into the man’s face harder and harder. Each blow left a sickening crack echoing in the air. 

Crack. Groan of pain. Crack. Whimper, “You though you could hurt her? Touch what’s not yours? Brutalize her?” Rafe snarled, voice low and vicious. When the man finally went unconscious, his body limp, face bloody and unrecognizable, “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s chest heaved as he stared down at his work. Nothing about the blood and broken flesh bothered him. He looked down at his hand which were covered in the man’s blood and only felt satisfied. 

He’d protected you. His pulse spiked even more as he heard footsteps on the boardwalk. You’d shown up. Rafe watched you kick off flip flops and run towards them. No matter how dark it was, you were easily visible in the baby pink dress you’d chosen. The contrast between you and the violent seen before you sente a surge of protectiveness through him. He stood from where he knelt in the sand and quickly crossed the distance towards you. 

You slowed as you took in the scene before you, “Rafe?” you whispered, “Rafe, what’s … that’s not …oh my god.”

Rafe grabbed you by your arms, turning your shaking body away. It was a gruesome mess, nothing you should have to see, “He’s dead,” You spoke with wide, terrified eyes, “Wh-Why? You killed him.”

“He’s not dead,” Rafe said quickly, “He’s still breathing … I had to stop him.”

You didn’t listen, you turned your head and saw the unnatural position the man laid in, “Rafe, he’s dead!”

Rafe shook you slightly, “He’s not. I promise.”

“What did you do?” You cried, tears beginning to stream down your cheek. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” He tried to assure you, “I had not. He was going to hurt you, Y/N. Look, he brought …he brought all that shit with him. There was rope in his bag, condoms … I did this for you!”

You shook your head, trying to pull away from Rafe’s bloody hands, “You beat him?” Your voice broke under the weight of your fear, “He’s not moving. You can’t …why would you–”

Rafe’s heart twisted in his chest. He wasn’t the one you were supposed to be afraid of, “He deserved it,” Rafe said, voice quiet and serious, “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

Rafe tried to pull you but you resisted. Easily, he lifted you into his arms, bloody hands staining your skin and now your dress, “We have to call someone!” You shouted at him, hiccuping through your tears, “Rafe, put me down!”

Rafe ignored you, strides long and steady, carrying you back towards the beachwalk. It was better for Mr. Hayes if the police weren’t involved. Undoubtely, a man like that had a record. Rafe was doing him a favor by only leaving him bloody on the beach. 

In his arms, you were powerless. Your mind was reeling. Even in his bloody state, you knew the man there was not who Mr. Hayes had described himself as. Rafe could be right about all of this but it still felt wrong. 

In Rafe’s truck, you sat curled up against the door, your knees pulled to your chest. A dark and empty road stretched before you, yacht rock played at a low volume in the background, and Rafe’s heavy breathing was louder than any of your thoughts. 

Every few minutes, you stole a glance at him. The tension had yet to leave his body, though he was coming down from the adrenaline. His breathing was heavy but deliberate, as if he was attempting to calm himself, “I didn’t want you to see that, you know that, right?” Rafe said suddenly, breaking through the heavy silence, “Like …I know that was fucked up. You believe me, right? About what I said?”

Your throat tightened so much that your words came out strangled, “I don’t know … what to believe.”

“He was going to hurt you. If I hadn’t stepped in — If I-I hadn’t acted proactively, he would’ve hurt you. He would be hurting you right now. You know that, right?” The brutality of Mr. Hayes’s alleged actions began to cloud Rafe’s actions. He said it over and over. You couldn’t help that now you were imagining it. Maybe this was the only way to rationalize the situation. Maybe you had to believe him.

You saw the items in the sand. You saw that he’d lied about his age, about his appearance, and his intentions. He was the monster. That was the better version. Everything was a lot less wrong that way. 

“Y/N,” Rafe spoke again, his deep voice rattling your ear drums, “You know that.”

You finally nodded, “Okay,” You agreed. 

“Good,” Rafe seemed to let out a breath of relief. Hands still tight on the steering wheel, he tilted his head back, “He wasn’t some innocent guy. I swear that to you. Like I wouldn’t lie about that shit.”

You nodded until your head started to hurt. 

“I did this for you,” Rafe said, “I’m so fucking glad you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you wiped the wetness from your cheeks. Your eyes caught on the dried blood that wrapped around in a band on your arm, “...Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” Rafe voice turned gentler as he glanced over at you.

“Did you …look at my messages?”

Rafe’s demeanor grew casual, like the worst of his anxieties had passed, “I did what I had to do,” He said, like it was a simple explanation. He didn’t seem concerned at his obvious breach of privacy. Didn’t seem to understand that the pit in your stomach was deepening. 

“Then you…”

“Then I know,” He finished and you watched a sinister smile pull at his lips, “Aren’t you relieved? I know and I’m not judging you. I’ve been wanting to figure you out since I met you. And now there’s no secrets between us.”

“Rafe…” You began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, “How could you?”

“I had to,” He insisted, “If I hadn’t, where would you be now? What if he had taken you? Killed you? What would that do to your mom?”

Your brows furrowed, trying to process his words, and the vile images that left in your mind, “The stuff on my phone is …private. It’s private for a reason. I don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” He countered, offering you a patronizing tone, “I know what you want, what you need. I’m happy to give you that. And I’d do a hell of better job than that waste of life on the beach.”

You connected the dots the moment those words left his lips. He wanted to be what Mr. Hayes had been to you. A caretaker. Someone to nurture your most innocent idea. 

“Rafe … Ward is married to my mom,” The most logical reason that was a crazy idea came to your mind quickly. 

“So?” He replied dismissevly. 

“You’re my stepbrother,” Not even that registered with him, “I don’t think …it’s not what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Rafe reached across the console, gently but firmly grabbing ahold of your hand. You stared back at him with wide eyes, your fear obvious especially when he took his eyes off the road, “You’re confused. You were willing to trust a man on the internet when the perfect person to take care of you is right here with you. No one else. Me.”

Feeling trapped, your next thought became calming him down. For fear of him crashing the car or never loosening his grip, you forced your expression to soften, “I know you can protect me,” You nodded your head, “And thank you for that …I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was stupid. I’m …I’m glad you care about me like that.”

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, “Yeah?”

“It’s just a lot to take in. I had no idea …I just thought you were usually annoyed with me,” You said and rafe seemed to exhale, his shoulders loosening, “I trust you, it’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I get it,” Rafe let go of your hand, but gave you no time to feel relieved, because next he placed his strong, large hand on your thigh, “I think we’re good for each other. I just have to show you, Y/N.”

Tannyhill was empty except the two of you. Your heart raced as Rafe led you upstairs to your room, hand firmly on the small of your back. When the door to the bedroom softly clicked behind you, closing the two of you in, you felt like throwing up. 

You started to imagine Rafe wandering around, looking through all your things, all without your permission. He felt out of place there in your sanctuary but it was clear he’d made himself comfortable a long time a go. He led you over to the edge of your bed, and shakily, you sat down. He kneeled down in front of you, a position quite to vulnerable and intimate for you. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, voice deep in concerning. Lifting one of your heels from the ground, he looked closely at your legs, as if checking for an injury. 

You shook your head, know the most your body had been through tonight had been at his hands, “I’m okay,” You spoke, your voice small. 

Rafe looked up at you, “It’s okay if you’re not, yeah?” Rafe said, voice softening as his hand slid further up your leg. When you pulled your leg back, his grip remained firm, possessive, “Everyone’s gone. I’m asking you to lean on me, princess.”

With no hint of asking for permission, you stared back at your stepbrother. You couldn’t help but feel as if the timing of tonight had worked out eerily in his favor. Everyone in your family was gone for the night and there was no Mr. Hayes to text about your feelings. 

“I’m going to run the bath for you,” Rafe decided, lips parted as if he was deep in thought, “Yeah, stay right here.”

“I’m fine, I can do it–” You began as Rafe made his way towards your bathroom.

He held out a finger and you stopped your movements quickly, frozen by the intensity in his gaze, “Stay.” 

He didn’t have to raise his voice for you to feel the threat in his tone. Somehow, this version of him was scarier than the one that relentlessly struck a man until he was unrecognizable. 

The sound of running water filled the room. Closing your eyes, controlling your breathing, the sound brought you to your routine. That sound of running water was always soothing to you. It was usually how your mind was able to slip into that comforting place on the other side of your mind. Things were lighter there, a place where you had no cares at all, and you enjoyed the things that you’d normally be embarrassed by. You pressed your feet into your fuzzy white carpet, your favorite place to listen to music and do one of your coloring books. You were almost there, the water having tricked you into falling deeper, until you caught a glimpse of Rafe standing behind the door, washing blood away in the sink. 

You tightened your eyes even more, shaking your head. This was certainly not the time to let down your guard. 

He appeared moments later, drying his hands with one of your pink washcloths, “Come on, let’s get you ready,” He said, his head tilted towards the bathroom, his voice deceptively warm. 

Your feet betrayed you and you hesitantly crossed the room. Another door between you and your life before you knew Rafe felt this way. When it closed shut, you realized you’d sealed your fate. How could it be a mistake when this was the place in life where you felt safest? To accept something was wrong meant accepting that you had nowhere left to feel warm, innocent, or child-like. 

Fingers caressed your skin, lifting the hem of your dress, gently raising your arms, until you were standing in your underwear. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again and it didn’t register how badly your lips were trembling until Rafe’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, “You’re okay,” He assured you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You’d wanted this desperately, for someone to see you and not want to run away. You wanted someone to take care of you, someone devoted to nurturing you. Your eyes locked on Rafe’s and you felt his palm against your bottom, fingers traveling beneath the fabric of your panties. You kept your head tilted up as he leaned down, pressing lips that were softer than could’ve ever imagined, against your neck. 

You melted against him. 

Vanilla and strawberry swirled in the air, strong but gentle hands caressed you, and your tears started to feel more like a release than a burden. He kissed the spot on your throat that had gone sore from all tears. 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered and you felt it everywhere. 

After removing your bra and panties, he helped you into the bath. Quickly, the blood and tears seemed to leave your skin, as if you’d imagined them. He touched you in a way that more natural, human, than expected. With deliberate care, he moved his hands over you, an act that felt practiced. 

Everything dissolved there in the warm bath, the heaviness of the entire night. Bubbles clung to your skin, and your fingers moved lazily over the surface of the water. Rafe washing you, moving a soapy washcloth over your skin, should’ve felt strange but were left in that hazy place where things were simple. 

“This is how things are going to be,” You heard him say, “We’ll make it work, okay? You get to be yourself and I’m the one who takes care of you now. I’m your Daddy.”

You’d never said that word out loud. Daddy. It was a faraway concept, a dream …just like the cloud you were floating in right now. You hugged yourself, mind wandering to that soft bed with all of your plushies. 

“Say it, princess,” you turned your head to him, mouth parted, eyes curious. 

“Say what?” You asked in a whisper, an innocent haze in your eyes. 

He smiled. You had done something right. You gave him a soft smile too. He leaned closer, “Say ‘Daddy’,” He commanded softly, “Please, princess.”

Part of you hesitated, knowing you were giving away something precious. The other part wanted to please him, after all, he’d brought you this sense of peace. And maybe the sooner you made him happy, the sooner he’d tuck you into your warm bed, and let this long day finally end. 

“Daddy,” You tested out the word on your tongue and though it sounded fragile, his eyes seemed to light up, “...since you said please.”

Nothing could smoulder that spark of satisfaction in his eyes. The look made your heart flutter, a sharp contrast from before when it felt like exploding. 

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Your cheeks warmed and you turned your face to hide from him. You couldn’t take it when he looked at you like that. That look made it feel like everything was okay.

“I made a mistake,” Your voice came out in a whine. Rafe ran the warm cloth across your back, a reminder of that peaceful bubble he’d created around you. 

He shushed you, “You didn’t,” He assured you, “You’re a good person, a good girl. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

His words made you sink deeper. The soft strokes of the warm washcloth, the vanilla-scent against your skin, and the pressure against your most sensitive areas. You felt the tension in your body melt away further. 

Slowly, gripping your knees to your chest, you turned your face back towards him, “You can’t tell anybody, Rafe,” You whispered. 

“Never,” He said, leaning closer, “Pinky swear?”

Rafe reached his other hand toward you, his pinky finger extended in front of you, moving like he was carefully dismantling some fragile, like a bomb. You stared for a brief movement, surprised and warmed by the gesture. You had no idea Rafe was capable of being so gentle. You unwrapped yourself a little bit, bring your closest pinky towards his hand. Your smaller finger wrapped around his and you were tethered together. 

“There, I promise I won’t tell anyone, princess,” He looked at you deeply, “Okay?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, your hand falling gently back into the water,  “Let’s get you out of here before you wrinkle up,” He decided and you watched him cross the room to grab your towel hanging from the back of the bathroom door. He walked back with a quiet confidence and his grip was completely sure, deliberate, as he helped you from the tub, “I’ve got ya’.”

He’d wrapped one arm underneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, lifting you gently. You imagined pressing yourself into him but a towel soon separated you. You shivered, and instinctually, you wanted to dry yourself but Rafe took responsibility of that as well. He was so close, so protective. It was awkward at first, being able to take care of that mundane task but not having to. You leaned into it, letting your body be soothed by the ritual. 

You kept sinking. 

“Arms up,” He’d said after bringing you back to your bedroom. He chose an oversized purple t-shirt, designed with small pictures of cartoon pandas. For your underwear, he chose a light blue pair decorated with rainbows. Your eyelids grew heavy and after your first yawn, Rafe lifted you onto the side of your bed, “There you go. All set.”

You crawled into your cocoon further, settling underneat your quilt. You watched Rafe as you settled there, as he moved across the room. Your sleepy eyes widened for a moment, realizing his shirt was gone and that he was fiddling with the zipper of his pants. 

It was a threshold you’d never expected to reach, with Rafe or anyone else. The lights flicked off and the bed dipped beside you, your nerves sparked. You grabbed ahold of your lamb stuffed animal, letting that bring you a familiar comfort. Rafe nestled closer to you, his body at ease, relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you. 

You did your best to do the same, trying to lean into that same vulnerability you felt when he was bathing you. Warm skin against yours, strong hands on your waist, warm breath against your ear, it was overwhelming, “I-Is this okay?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

Looking for reassurance, you turned your head until your noses were almost pressed together. 

“Yeah,” Rafe spoke low and smooth, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nervously, “I’m okay.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your forehead and you took a deep breath, letting the feeling sooth your anxiety, “I’ve got you,”  Rafe’s fingers ran down your arm then to your waist. He held you there, feeling your flesh there, squeezing, “Daddy’s got you, baby.”

He touched you in new ways, gripped you hard in some places and softer in others. The kiss on your forehead turned into a kiss on your nose and then he placed soft lips against your cheek, “Relax,” He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re sleepy. I’ll do all the work.”

In your state of mind, his words felt like a riddle. What did he mean? You knew you liked his touch and that you wanted to sleep. Rafe knew more than you, clearly, maybe that’s what makes him a good Daddy. You should trust him. 

You closed your eyes as you let him press his face into your neck. He kissed you there, finding the most sensitive spot on your skin, and it made your lips part in a soft moan, “Call me Daddy,” He spoke against your skin, “Please, baby? Just say it and I’ll make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” You whispered back hesitantly and Rafe groaned, “D-Daddy.”

“Fuck,” Rafe cursed, grabbing a handful of your bottom, “That’s exactly what I want from you.”

You felt hardness pressing against your upper thigh and you gripped your lamb tighter. You leaned into sleep, letting Rafe move your body as he pleased, only moving your lips to whisper, “Daddy” in Rafe’s ear. He seemed please and you felt a warmness in your center that you wanted more of. 

Soon he was on top of you, your legs spread as he sat in between them. He rubbed you there. His rhythm was perfect, his accuracy impeccable, so much that you didn’t have to even move your hips to get the friction you needed. You panted and when you reached your peak, Rafe swallowed your moans, putting his mouth on your lips. 

It didn’t fully register to you when Rafe pushed your underwear aside and started to push inside of you. He was so gentle and you were so tired. He pulled your arms to the side, pressing his front against you, but you kept one hand wrapped around the arm of your stuffed animal, “Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy”

You winced when you felt all of him, and instinctively, you pushed at his heavy arms, “You’re okay,” He said, and his voice was louder to you than his heavy breathing or the sound of his skin hitting against yours, “You’re doing so good. Daddy’s almost done. You’re gonna make me cum so fast, Y/N. Shit.”

The satisfaction and pride in his words brought almost enough warmth to mask the pain of being stretched by him. You slowly grew used to the feeling but the feeling was so intense and you had so little energy to withstand it, to take all of him. 

“Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

His thrust slowed but his weight kept you pinned there. He grabbed ahold of your chin and you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. His mouth was parted, his eyes holding a darkness that you thought had gone away, “Jesus, baby.”

As he shifted to his side, all you could muster was to turn away, pulling your lamb close to your chest and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. Rafe nestled against you once more, his hands gripping your hips until your bottom was pressed firmly against him. You felt the warmth of his lips against your hair, and then his sleepy voice whispered, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

Reblog and comment if you enjoyed, would love to know your thoughts!!

[applecaviar]

🔥Horny thoughts #7 🔥

3:49 am

Late again...

You heard Zayne enter the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filling the air. He always took a shower when he got home late from work, needing to wash away the stress and exhaustion of the long day. You knew him well enough to understand his habits, his little quirks that let you know exactly what kind of day he'd had.

You sat up in bed, the sheets rustling softly as you shifted your position. Your heart was filled with hope that Zayne hadn't lost another patient tonight, a constant worry that always lingered in the back of your mind whenever he came home late like this.

A few moments later, Zayne emerged from the bathroom, but something was different this time. Normally, he would walk out with only a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, the fabric doing little to hide his body. But tonight, he was completely bare, not a scrap of clothing covering him.

His hair was still damp, a few loose strands falling over his forehead as he walked towards the bed. His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw tiredness and something else, something more intense and heated. He had a serene expression, but there was tension, a sort of coiled energy that seemed to radiate from him.

As he approached, you couldn't help but notice the way his movements were deliberate, each step measured and precise. He moved with a certain grace, that was both mesmerizing and slightly intimidating.

"Be a dear and do something for me tonight, won't you?" Zayne requested "I'm carrying a great deal of tension from the day, and I need to get rid of it but I don't want to risk hurting you unintentionally...besides you're always so well behaved and considerate, aren't you, my love?"

You found yourself nodding slowly, almost unconsciously, as you whispered your reply. "Yes"

"I need you to bring me right to the brink," his voice was tight with tension as he loomed over you. "Push me to the absolute limit, leave me throbbing and desperate. Then, and only then, I want you to fuck the stress out of me, raw and hard." His eyes flashed with intensity as he added, "I'm no fragile man, I'll speak up and tell you exactly what I need."

It had started with a blowjob, with you spending a full thirty minutes worshipping every inch of his length. You had taken him deep into your throat, your lips stretching around his girth as you swallowed around him again and again. Every time you tasted his salty precum on your tongue, a sign that you had brought him to the brink as he had asked, you stopped, pulling off his cock with a pop.

Now, as you rode him with fervor, you could feel every thick vein and ridge of his cock as it dragged along your sensitive walls. Your breasts bounced with each roll of your hips, sweat dripping down your cleavage and onto his chest. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he guided your movements, urging you on.

You could see the tension in his face, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched as he fought to maintain control. But you could also see the pleasure, the pure bliss that shone in his eyes as you worked him over and over, bringing him closer to that elusive edge.

Your thighs burned with each movement, the muscles screaming from the relentless pace you had set. But you couldn't stop, not when Zayne was in such a desperate state, his eyes wild and his chest heaving with each breath. You had never seen him like this before, so completely at the mercy of his own desire, and it only spurred you on.

When you finally stopped, your hips still hovering just above his, you heard the most delicious sound. A whimper, low and needy, escaped Zayne's lips. It was a sound you had never heard from him before, a sound that spoke of a desperation so profound it made your pussy clench.

"Please..." Zayne breathed out. He sounded almost pained, almost tortured in his need for release.

You leaned down and looked into his eyes. "Please what, Zayne?" you asked softly, your voice a teasing lilt as you dragged your nails down his chest.

He shuddered beneath you, his body trembling with the effort it took for him to hold back. But you could see the answer in his eyes, could feel the way his cock throbbed and jerked inside you, aching for that final push.

Only when you were certain that he wouldn't climax, not yet, did you start to move again. You leaned down further, pressing your chest flush against his as you began to drag your hips back. You felt his cock slip out of you, inch by inch, until just the tip remained inside you.

Then, with a brutal thrust, you slammed back down onto him. You took him to the hilt, your body accepting every thick inch of his hard cock as you ground your hips against his. A groan tore from Zayne's throat, a sound of pure pleasure that made your own desire surge through your veins.

"Fuck, yes," Zayne hissed, his hands gripping your ass tightly as he urged you on. "Just like that, Please fuck me just like that."

"Such a good boy," you purred, "using his big boy words now. I do like you begging, darling."

Sitting up with the last of your strength, you braced your hands on his chest and began to bounce on his cock. Your thighs trembled and burned, but you pushed through the pain, driven by the need to bring him to his high.

With each bounce, you felt his cock hit all the right spots inside you, stroking your G-spot with devastating accuracy.

As the heat in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, you grabbed Zayne's hand and brought it to your swollen clit, pressing his fingers against the sensitive nub. Together, you rubbed tight circles around it, the added stimulation pushing you both closer.

That was when Zayne lost it. When your walls clenched down around him and your body shuddered above him, he finally let go. His climax hit him with the force of a freight train, his eyes flying wide open as a scream ripped from his throat.

The sound was raw and filled with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. It was so unlike the calm, level headed man you knew, and it only heightened your own rapidly approaching orgasm.

His body shook beneath you, his hips jerking and twitching as he emptied himself inside you. You could feel his hot seed flooding your insides, painting your walls with his release. The sensation pushed you over the edge, and with a scream of your own, you came undone. 

[guiltyandashamed]

headcannons: the moment they fell in love

You’d been with the brothers for some time now, long enough to recognize their habits, their moods, the way each of them loved in their own unique language. They didn’t fall all at once. It was gradual, quiet in some cases and impossible to ignore in others. Each of them warmed up to you at their own pace, but when it hit, when they realized they’d fallen for you, they fell hard. And there was no going back.

Lucifer — Slow-burn, recognition over time

Lucifer doesn’t fall easily. He resists the idea of being emotionally compromised. For him, it wasn’t a dramatic moment, it was a gradual accumulation. He notices how you hold your own, how you work hard without necessarily being noticed, how you ease the burden of handling his brothers, and how you effortlessly calm him during times of stress. But the moment hits one evening after a long council meeting. He comes home and finds you waiting for him. The house is quiet, no chaos, seemingly you took care of everything so he could come home to peace. You smile and hand him a cup of tea. No words, just an understanding. His eyebrows lift ever so slightly, he takes the tea and gives you a soft thanks. He feels it then: a rare warmth that makes the silence between you more comfortable than any conversation. He doesn't panic, but he does retreat, quietly adjusting his cuffs, unsure what to do with something so... human. He'll often just stare at you, thinking to himself about his feelings. If you meet his gaze he'll look away briefly, clear his throat and pretend to do something else. How has a human infiltrated his heart and mind like this? Ridiculous, he mutters to himself, but the way his chest tightens says he believes otherwise.

Mammon — Love at first sight, but he doesn't know it yet

The second he lays eyes on you, he knows you’re different. But he brushes it off, calls it curiosity, interest, maybe even a small crush. He's always in your room, invading your privacy, being clingy, he never asked himself why he liked being around you, because he was scared of the answer. It’s not until he finds himself instinctively stepping in front of you during a threat, heart racing, fists clenched, that it clicks. He’s terrified by how badly he wants to protect you. His reaction? Defensiveness. Lots of “It’s not like I like you or anything!” and awkward attempts at distancing himself, which only pull him in closer. The realization hits him fully when you defend him, a moment of unexpected loyalty. His heart stutters, and he can’t look you in the eye. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, voice shaky, “Why do you make me feel this way?” A few weeks pass and you notice his face turns red if you stare at him too long. Sometimes he just paces around his room internally panicking after an interaction with you, thinking you know his secret–his love for you–as if it isn't blatantly obvious.

Leviathan — Slow-burn, denial stage included

Levi thinks he’s not the kind of person people fall for, so he never lets himself consider falling for someone either. At first, he tries to categorize his fondness for you like he would a favorite character: someone cool, rare, different. But when you stay up with him during a new game release, and he looks over to find you curled against him, your gentle presence grounding him in reality, it hurts a little. It's too real. His chest tightens and he looks away fast, slinking deeper into his hoodie to hide the color rising in his face. “You’re just... too good at co-op,” he mutters. But in his heart, he knows it’s more. He doesn’t understand how someone like you, someone real, could sit beside him and make the world outside his screen feel more important. He falls quietly, helplessly, and never stops. He tries to convince himself later, when he's alone, that his love for Ruri-chan is enough for him, but when he remembers how lonely he felt before meeting you, he knows there's nobody else he'd rather fall for.

Satan — A gradual slide that becomes undeniable

For Satan, love is built on intellectual connection and emotional honesty. You win his attention when you match him in wit, push back when he's teasing, and listen when he's serious. Normally people find him brash or rude, but you seem to soften his edge. You're not put off by him as others are, so he's always respected you for it. But the moment he falls is much softer. You're helping him reorganize his library after a particularly bad outburst. He’s frustrated with himself, expecting you to be wary of him, but instead, you smile and ask if the fiction should go alphabetically or by theme. Your calm in the aftermath of his rage, your easy presence among the ruined books and sharp silence, feels like a balm he didn’t know he needed. The way you normalize his worst parts, without pity, undoes him. He realizes then that he wants your presence in both the quiet and the chaos. His reaction? A thoughtful pause, followed by a soft, genuine smile he rarely shows. He doesn't say anything right away, but from then on, he looks for more excuses to spend time with you.

Asmodeus — Instant attraction, deeper love over time

Asmo knew you were different when he realized his magic charm didn't work on you. People were easily enamored by him, but you? He flirts, of course, testing boundaries with a twinkle in his eye. But when you don't play into it the way others do,when you're gentle with him as a person, not just a pretty face, he becomes genuinely curious. You listen when he talks about the things no one else cares to ask, his insecurities, his quietest dreams,and he finds himself saying more than he meant to. The moment it turns to love is intimate: you catch him in his room late one night, makeup half-removed, smile nowhere in sight. As much as Asmo portrays himself as unbothered, he's not immune to negative emotion. You ask if he wants company without expecting anything. There’s no performance in your voice, no angle, just care, and he realizes he doesn’t know how to protect himself from that. When he nods and you sit beside him, just being there, he leans into your shoulder and thinks: This must be what love feels like. Even in silence, he feels adored, not because of how he looks, but because of who he is. It terrifies and thrills him. He clings a little tighter that night.

Beelzebub— Slow, steady, and deeply rooted

Beel falls in love the way trees grow: quiet, strong, and always. It starts when you offer him food without fear or judgment. It deepens when you sit beside him in silence, content just to be near. But the moment hits him one day in the kitchen. You’re making something for everyone, humming to yourself, flour dusting your sleeves. He sees how happy you look caring for others, and his chest feels warm in a way hunger can’t explain. You offer him a spoon to taste and smile like it's nothing, but to him it feels like everything. He watches you move around the kitchen like you belong in his world, like this moment was always meant to be. It’s not loud or dramatic, but it settles in him so deeply he knows it won’t leave. He doesn’t say the words, but from that moment on, he’s all in. His love is simple: he shows up, carries your weight, and never lets go. He’d protect that quiet kind of joy you bring with the same devotion he gives his family.

Belphegor — Reluctant love, but impossible to ignore

Belphie fights it. Hard. After everything he’s done, he doesn’t think he deserves your kindness. At first, he pushes your affection away with sarcasm, trying to keep you at arm’s length. But the moment he falls is unexpectedly vulnerable. You find him asleep in the planetarium, clearly exhausted and wanting to get away from the chaos inside the house, and instead of waking him, you sit beside him and stay. When he wakes, still half-dreaming, he sees you there. head resting on his shoulder, trusting him enough to fall asleep too. It breaks him open. You didn’t ask for anything, didn’t pry or judge, just chose to exist quietly with him, and that choice mattered more than he could ever say. The ache in his chest wasn’t guilt this time, but something heavier and gentler all at once. He doesn't speak, just watches you breathe for a moment, and something soft and sharp settles in his chest. He falls quietly, but it hits like gravity. He’ll never admit it out loud, not yet, but from that night on, he sleeps better knowing you exist. He starts finding more reasons to linger near you, even if it’s just in the same room, like your presence tethers him to the better parts of himself.

[tossawary]

I keep thinking about a SVSSS AU in which Yue Qingyuan HAD managed to come back and rescue Shen Jiu, but specifically through official channels.

Like, let's say that the previous Qiong Ding Peak Lord is a generally kind and righteous person, privileged but extremely well-meaning, such that Yue Qingyuan is prevented from taking the Xuan Su Sword due to his shizun noticing the impeding crisis and intervening somehow. Yue Qingyuan breaks down because he's desperate for a spiritual weapon that he thinks will make the final difference, his shizun presses for information, and the Qiong Ding Peak Lord is ultimately moved to help poor, worthy Shen Jiu and bring a promising young man to the sect.

Qiu Jianluo can't really do shit about this surprise visit, because Cang Qiong Mountain Sect is far wealthier and more powerful than him in every way, and he's pressured to release Shen Jiu with a gracious smile and no consequences to himself. It's underwhelming and disappointing and feels unjust.

If you want more deadly tension here, you can have it so that Shen Jiu is already acquainted with Wu Yanzi and was on the verge of snapping against the Qiu Family, and Wu Yanzi silently stalks them back to Cang Qiong because he views Shen Jiu as an exploitable weak point. There's also all of the potential tension that comes from the Qiu Family wanting to maintain and use any connection to a powerful cultivation sect.

But man, even if both Wu Yanzi and the Qiu Family are both left out of the picture, if you have it so that Shen Jiu is firmly out of their reach and safe, there's still no guarantee that Qijiu would have a good relationship. Yes, Yue Qingyuan came back for him and cares for him and that's EVERYTHING, but also... Neither Yue Qingyuan nor Shen Jiu (teenagers!) are equipped to understand their own personal traumas or each other's baggage, much less make themselves vulnerable enough to work through them in a controlled manner, still. They're the sort of people who have been swallowing poisoned water to survive for years and now don't really know the difference between water and poison when it comes to not dying of thirst.

And, because the Qiong Ding Peak Lord presumably still travels with a sufficiently impressive entourage, now Shen Jiu's wretched background will be known with certainty by the entire gossipy sect. And he will LOATHE every second of both benevolent pity and cruel condescension. If Shen Jiu was rescued through legal, official channels, he'd probably spend the rest of his life fantasizing about killing his way out of a burning Qiu Manor instead.

[lustlovehart]

Reversed

Pairings: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Rollo x Reader

Reverse Monster!Twst where instead of you being the hunter who hunts down those vermin, it’s them hunting you down, the most notorious beast famed for taking down whole citities with just a look (though, this is just rumors as no evidence with solid proof has proven this a fact).

They’re so sure they can do it, maybe with a great effort, but they have no doubt they’ll at least give you a challenge.

But then, they finally meet you and their former view completely shifts.

Riddle, is at an impasse. He’s conflicted with himself, on one hand he’s appraised as the sternest Monster Hunter there is, even following rules that make his job harder than need be. But, when he looks at you, his want for law following skews itself. Even as he brings his blade down to behead you, a split second hesitation gives way for you to escape his clutches.

When he finally clears his mind, he strives to hunt you down, you’ll just repay all the grievances you caused through punishment—! Who’s he kidding, he can’t lie…

He’s doing this not because the rules say so, but because he wants to. Whether through blood or air, he will see you again.

Leona… Thinks it’s inconvenient. He sets out on the mission with the “just another annoyance” mindset, ready to swiftly claw you down a step so he can go back to napping around the city. When the time comes, he’s a bit annoyed he can’t do it. He’s not sure what it is, maybe the way you look at him when you’re on the ground, whether pitiful or snarling. This was meant to be a simple job, kill and then swiftly take his leave, now he’s considering whether he should throw you over his shoulder or tie you up and drag you home.

The decision is finally made when you’re gone from his hold. He groans at himself for something so amateur, but realizes, he hasn’t taken a mission seriously for a while. Maybe it’s finally time for him to catch a worthy meal.

Crowley won’t know though, this prey, is for him and him only.

Azul views it as a simple means to gain popularity. Killing the most wanted beast available would surely boost him up the chart, he could even replace Crowley as NRF’s head. The moment he can finally do what he has been waiting years to do… he'd very much rather bunch you up in his arms and start an entirely different business branch.

When you’re down, the way you sneer at him and tell about his pathetically cowardice plan somehow reminds him of himself. He’s reminded of how weak he started before growing in power.

When you back away from his reach, only further growling at the human before you, he bunches your clawed hands in his placing a chaste kiss on your thick skin. He already knew what would happen as the moment he looked back up, the beast he gave such a vulnerable act to, was gone.

He tuts at himself, but quickly re-plans, he’ll just have to find a more efficient way of holding you down.

Kalim, is happy! He’s a soft hunter, he essentially hunts them down by giving them a stern talking about the goodness of the world, even giving them a good start in life! They get away believing they’ve achieved freedom only to be murdered in cold blood by Jamil, who was stalling in the formers shadow.

When they finally meet you, this dynamic changes. Kalims practically overcome by joy at the sight of you, caging your hand in his as he excitedly rants to you about the future you’ll have with him! … With him? It seems… Kalim doesn’t believe in free beginnings in your case, when he accidentally releases you back into the world, he’s determined, for the first time, to truly hunt down a monster and trap them.

Little does he know, the real snake, is ready to sink his fangs into you, not willing to share a single piece of his reward

Vil unfortunately believes, you’re the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on. Like everyone else, he went into the assignment with the belief he’ll be taking down an insidious ugly monster. It’s dark when he finally brings his weapon down on you, only narrowly missing when the light perfectly hits your face and accentuates your features to him.

Why are you beautiful?

He stops dead in his tracks, only further freezing up when you slowly resume your full height, you face inching closer to his as your eyes examine him, the moment he blinks is when you’re gone. Perhaps he should’ve let his eyes run dry if it meant you stayed here longer.

When he lays in bed, it feels like every time he closes his eyes you’re in the shadows, watching him. He doesn’t feel fear at this thought, if anything, he jumps up ready to take you away.

Ever since, he can’t seem to stop thinking about the beast so fair, he must know… why it is he finds you so beautiful.

Perhaps, he’ll just need to study such a beauty up close and personal.

Idia wants to hole himself away, but at the same time needs to see every part of you. He’s practically hidden behind the sword he has pointed at you, the iron trembling as you watch him emerge from his sleeve. He’s been obsessed with this moment for so long, to finally become the hero of the world after slaying the beast that torments innocent citizens!

But… is he sure he even wants to do that anymore..? He can feel the plotline change when he considers drifting apart from the cliche.

What if he like… falls in love with the evil monster instead..? Why’s he lying that’s exactly what’s happening…! After fixating on such a key moment, it’s like all his attention was on you as a living being, rather than the mission anymore…!

He has numerous pins and photos of you attached to his wall, each displaying your victims, towns you’ve raided, and even just photos of you standing there.

This might be the only thing he won’t shy away from in fear. Like the rest of them, Idia is just as determined to achieve the goal of catching you, maybe even more so with how much he needs to prove to people.

Malleus, finds you a curiosity. To think, despite his nature, you’ve caught the attention of one of the most renowned hunters. Even when his bare hands pin you to the ground below him, his body being used as a weight to trap you between him and the grass, he can’t help but wish to lean even closer.

He essentially, feels the urge to consume every piece of knowledge there is to know about you, he wants to know, every piece of data books have failed to recollect on you.

He has never felt such a strong desire like this, he’s smart in all fields, even powerful enough to do jobs weaponless, yet you’re the only thing he seems to consistently want to swallow.

When your form fades away, his hands grip onto the space you once occupied, desperately trying to cling to the vespers of you. He must better himself, on his need for you.

Rollo thinks you’re horrifically heinous. How… How dare you impede his mind with your impure presence. Out of everyone, even Riddle, his strive to put a stake through your heart is heavier than ever, why must such prudences exist in this land? If they hadn’t, living would be peacful.

Which is the exist opposite of his life right now. At every turn of a city corner has gone to such a delusion he imagines random people in the street to be you. His current turmoil is between existential longing and pure hatred.

You... You of the most immoral species possible, why is it you his heart has decided to beat faster and faster with every passing moment? You must’ve cursed him, yes that’s it... He must purify the filth you’ve instilled in him.

By taking you as the cure.

A/n: Rollo Flamme, from doting househusband coworker who toes the line of regular best friend and boyfriend, to loathing mortal enemy who hunts you down to pay for the fact you’re in his mind 24/7 because he simply can’t accept that he’s fallen deep in love with the pretty monster in the shadows.

May I offer up, Monster Hunter meeting with all of the factions telling their reports of their mission, collectively saying their lies in unison, that they killed you. Now they’re all giving each other the stink eye cuz “no tf you didn’t???”, meanwhile you’re in their weapons closet trying desperately to not get caught with the lowrank hunter you were feeding on. You could easily take five of them down, but twenty three highly trained hunters? You’d practically be dead—

Your hopes go unanswered as shadows loom of you with the most horrifying expressions on their face. (Little do you know it’s not because of you but because they’re a little jealous some random got to have you bite them).

Thank you for my presentation that had randomly struck me doing a road trip, on the bright side, Heartslaybul is half way finished??? Kinda??

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love your Freelance Inventor Au so much! (And, like, all your other work,, lol) I can't help imagining Danny finding out about the Batfam and turning to Bruce like, "You let our kids be vigilantes?!" Meanwhile Bruce is stuck on the fact that Danny called them "Our" kids. Or the reveal the other way, with Bruce finding out about Phantom first? He'd freak out- clearly he doesn't know Danny as well as he thought he did. And he can't believe Danny never told him! Meanwhile, Danny thought he mentioned the Phantom thing ages ago and that Bruce just doesn't care.

Since Jazz put the idea in his head, Danny has been unable to think of anything else. The idea that he might be in love with Bruce Wayne and had been for so many years but didn't notice because he assumed everyone felt that it was for that one friend.

It was there whenever he was drafting new blueprints, when he traveled across the world looking for inspiration and investors, when he settled into bed for a good night's rest, and most of all, when he finished his weekly phone call with Bruce.

"Get some rest," Bruce's warm, smooth voice says over the speakers. "I'll talk to you soon. Goodnight, Danny."

"Goodnight," he responds softly. He has a request to stay on the line on the tip of his tongue, but with the time difference, he knows it's not a good idea. And have a good day, Bruce."

The call ended with a click, but he couldn't help but feel their goodbye needed something.

I love you.

That was it. That's what was missing. But did he dare? Could he? Was he confusing love for something it wasn't? Was Bruce even interested?

Danny places his phone on his chest, staring at the ceiling of the latest hotel he booked, wondering if Bruce is leaving for lunch with the kids. He said they were celebrating Tim's new clothesline and wished he was there to cheer the boy and his team on.

Danny is in Toykyo today, presenting his new hologram keyboards to a big company.

Of course, they were the second company allowed the selling rights. Wayne Tech was the first, and Danny kept the production and creation rights. It was one of Danny's most ingenious inventions, if he did say so himself, but the look on Bruce's face when he revealed it to him was far more exhilarating than creating the keyboard or gaining the fat paycheck.

Fenton's Ghost Touch was a set of two rings with a hologram keyboard inside. When someone needed to type, they would spin the rings and double-tab the inner lining, connecting to devices using the Bluetooth function.

A visible hologram would pop up underneath their fingers, or if they wanted (and were good enough typers), they could move their fingers in the air without it, which would still allow them to type.

Danny had chosen to release the line in black internationally with Toyko, but Wayne Tech would release an exclusive color line. The rings were of the same design, all using slick silver bands but with different colors as the activation inner rings and some elegant carvings, unlike the international releases, which were just one solid color.

Fenton's Ghost Touch would come in seven colors: blue, red, pink, green, purple, white, and yellow.

Danny had purposely designed them using each of the Wayne kids' favorite colors and sent them all a set with their corresponding colors. The morning they arrived, he got a picture of them showing off their new rings, smiling widely at the camera from Bruce.

He saved the photo as his laptop background. His phone background already had a picture of him and the Waynes at Thanksgiving. They had crowed around, holding their wreaths with Bruce and Danny in the center.

Danny had been facing the camera, beaming in pride at the kids' work. Bruce was half-turning, his gaze stuck on Danny's face with a strange, fond, soft smile, the kind he rarely saw Bruce give anyone else.

It made him hope. Oh, how he hoped, but it also scared him. What if this wasn't love? Danny has never been in love before, has never fallen to the urges that others describe, and had been so comfortable convincing his asexuality meant he would never have to be the kind of person staying up long into the night overthinking every interaction with another person.

Yet here he was, seeing Bruce in a whole new light and discovering how different everything was because of it. But at the same time, how nothing had changed. He spoke to Dani about this, but his clone-turned-sister had only shrugged.

"You raised kids with the man." She laughed. Dani wasn't like Danny, and although she was more informed than their parents, she had difficulty wrapping her head around not having those feelings. "I think it's past the point of having a crush on him. I think you should go for it. Make it official."

Danny reaches up, rubbing at his eyes. It was midnight, and he had a meeting with another with the Japanese board again at eight. He really needed to rest and be on top of his wits so that he and his lawyer could ensure the contact was in his best interest.

He clicks open his gallery on his phone instead of swiping through photos of Bruce and feeling his heart leap nearly out of his chest. He misses the man.

Since Jazz's conversation, Danny has been practically avoiding him. This is due to his being hyper-aware of himself and Bruce: the way Bruce laughed, the dip in his voice whenever the British accent he picked up from Alfred popped in, the slight facial expressions he made when confused about emotions, the shift from playful to professional in work settings, and most of all, the attention he always bestowed onto Danny.

How the world just seemed brighter whenever he was with the man.

Bruce was his sun, and Danny was nothing more than a flower seeking him out. It made the Halfa want to hide in a hole but dance around in public all at once, and he didn't know why.

He finds a video, tapping the play button before thinking further of it, and melts when the first sound he hears is Bruce's laughter. It's quickly followed by the loud noise of the Waynes' Children. It was taken at the last Wayne game night—at the time, Danny had been in England with Dani.

Tim recorded Damian standing proudly over a map covered in white trains, arms spread into a T position, and Duke screaming accusations of cheating. After Alfred banned Monopoly in the Manor, the game Ticket to Ride quickly took over as the new worst enemy creator.

Dick was in the background sobbing into his hands as Jason tried to confront him. Steph and Cass were each leaning on Bruce's two shoulders, laughing as hard as their father, and Alfred was out of frame but not out of hearing, so when he stated, "Master Dick, how could have gone in the wrong direction? It's the map of the USA, it hasn't change in years!"

"He has a concussion, Alfrie!" Jason protested hotly. "Leave him alone!"

"YOU CHEATED!" Duke raged as Damian continued his pose with the most serious expression he'd seen on the child. It made his heart swell to see Damian copying him.

Danny struck the same pose whenever he beat his sisters at a game, even at his advanced age. Once an annoying brother, always an annoying brother.

The video ends with Tim flipping the camera. His broad grin covered the whole screen as he shouted, "Love you, Dad! Miss you! Can't wait to see you!"

Danny turns to his side, feeling his heart flutter more as the word plays repeatedly in his head. A few years ago, the Wayne Kids—excluding Damian, who was polite to the point it hurt—switched from Danny to Dad when referring to him.

Bruce hadn't made a big deal about it even though they called him Dad. Would that mean the man was happy his kids saw him as a second father figure? Did it mean the man thought of him as....a husband?

Danny groans, burying his face into the cool sheets of his futon, begging his mind to stop for a few seconds so he can rest. After this deal goes through, Danny is going to face the music.

He would go to Gotham and figure out a way to tell Bruce how he felt. He just hopes he has it figured out by then. Danny has an idea, but explaining the mess in his head into words is going to be much harder than anything he's ever done.

Not to mention Phantom. That was a can of worms he hadn't ever touched in Wayne's presence. What was Bruce's stance on ghosts anyway?

Should he practice what he would say about the topic? Turning onto his back, Danny holds up his phone, clicking the screen so the lock screen image of a grinning Bruce appears.

It was from the surprise vacation Danny rented out the hut next to the ones the kids sent Bruce to. It had been taken at sunset, the soft orange and purples of the sky framing Bruce's grin and dancing on his wind-blown hair. It had been a spur-of-the-moment walk around the beach, but from Danny's perspective down below and Bruce climbing back up to his hunt, it had almost appeared like Bruce was descending from the heavens.

Danny had used every film skill he had ever heard Dani speak about to capture the beautiful sight.

It is the best picture he's ever taken.

"I love you," the words leave his mouth in surprise, even though he had meant to talk about ghosts. But when they are spoken, he ducks into ice water and realizes they are true.

He sits up, using both hands to hold the phone in front of him, hoping that somehow, in some unrealistic dream, the words will carry across the world, and Bruce will hear them. Maybe even feel them, too. "I love you, I think I do. Do you love me too?"

The screen goes dark, and Danny sighs. Ten years. Will he really risk ten years of friendship over these little feelings?

Yeah. He thinks he will.

[bunni-v1]

your shadow milk cookie relationships headcanons are now my canon. like what the fuck how can a piece of literature be so accurate to established information we know about him!!!!!!! hejsjsdjejwje ur shadowmilk is so loving and so cute lowkey

if you don't mind, since your requests are open, could you elaborate more on some more aspects of the relationship pre-ep 8 and post-ep 8? (if u haven't finished this part then u can just ignore this hehe) you mentioned how smc naturally gets more and more devoted as time goes on and he opens up (THEY MAKE ME FEEL SO ILL) so i've also wondered how he would act like when there is a threat that legitimately puts his lover in danger, or at worst, sets the tone to losing them. he'd mald, i imagine...

feel free to answer, feel free to ignore—i adore your work and i think it's not strange at all for you to shift to cookie run after dabbling in mostly human-ish games like ZZZ and TWST. all in good fun, plus you're feeding a parched audience (i am audience, haha) have a good day!

🍓Okay so this ask kinda has three parts to it, so please excuse me if it seems a little... all over the place. I'll answer both the pre and post ep 8 things, and then I'll be touching on what he's like with the threat. I do hope you enjoy my love <3

Tw: Mentions of body horror (cookie body horror?); Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive and Possessive behaviors; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk x Reader; Fluff; Angst (lowkey tho); Pre and Post episode 8 SMC (spoilers ahead lol); Drabble/Headcannons(?)

Pre Episode 8

From how the story seems to be set up, the confrontation with SMC should happen last, they just released it now because of the anniversary knowing he'd be hella popular lol. So I'm functioning with the idea that Gingerbrave and Co. arrive around when the other Ancients are finishing up their own confrontation with their respective beasts, meaning there's a lot of time to work with hehe.

Anyway, pre-episode 8 Shadow Milk leans into the category of 'yandere' a lot more than post. He's very obsessive about you, again stalking and watching you, learning as much as he can about you before he even allows you to see him.

You're more often than not being monitored by him, and if you're not, he's probably with you. He gets annoyed when other cookies talk to you, and he isn't afraid to voice that. While he does give you a lot of freedom, he does subtly limit the things you do and the people you're around. It's harder when you're not with him in the spire, but he goes about messing with the environment to keep you where he wants you.

And, yes, he'll crumble cookies in your name if he needs to. Their lives are arbitrary in the grand scheme of things, especially so if they're causing you strife. He won't hurt any cookies you hold dear to you -- though he really may want to at times -- only cookies that are a threat to your emotional or physical well-being. If the death causes you too much terror, then he'll tone it down to just... making their lives a miserable hellscape. It's what the deserve for hurting you, of course!

When you do join him in the spire (because you will, it's just a matter of how long it takes him to nudge you in that direction), the behavior is a bit more obvious. He doesn't like you leaving the spire for literally anything, and if you do he knows and will pop up by your side the second you stray too far. He plays it up as cute worrying, but he's legitimately scared for your wellbeing, like terrified. You're never alone in the spire if he can help it (and he can).

Like I said he watches a lot. There are eyes all around the spire and they follow you shamelessly. They appear content to just watch you, sometimes even literally forming hearts, so they're no threat to your well-being. Again, he's just observing you, more excited now that you're actually in the spire and close to him.

There is a notable difference in the environment, though you likely don't notice it (because you've only ever seen post you moving in). The atmosphere surrounding the spire is lighter, more colorful, and happy. It reflects his excitement at having you around, a visual nod to his love for you, even though you're not exactly away of it.

Despite the negatives here, there are positives! He's incredibly doting, you'll want for nothing with him. Your greatest dreams will come true with a wave of his hand, even with only half his power. He does let you wander around, you just won't be alone when you do so. He's very aware of the dangerous environment on beast yeast, he's cause for it, so he won't be risking your safety.

He's incredibly showy with his style of loving. Grand gifts and performances just to get you grinning and giggling. (He loves writing plays where the two of you are the main characters, falling in love in a million different ways, cutie he is.) He serenades you with syrupy sweet lyrics all about how much he adores all of you. Scoops you up in his arms and dances around with you. He's very touchy, like I said, always needing to have physical contact for whatever reason. (It's because he's scared you'll leave him too.)

He doesn't kiss you much if only to initiate more intimate activities. When he does, his intent is to fluster you nearly every time. Kissing is something that's hard for him, for whatever reason. It's more intimate than touches, and weirdly enough more intimate than sex in his mind. It makes him so vulnerable, so he tries to avoid it unless it's to get a reaction out of you.

Most of what he does is to get a reaction, actually. He likes seeing the way you express yourself, and regardless of what you do, he finds it cute. It's a little intimidating how much he stares, and he stares a lot. Very frequently you'll find him sitting around just... watching you. He won't stop even if you acknowledge it, just smiles all innocently until you go back to what you were doing.

That's sort of how it feels during this whole time, that he's just watching from the outside. There's a distance he keeps between you and him, the power dynamic is a lot more stark here. However, when you're not aware - be that you're sleeping or doing something where you can't see him - genuine affection comes out.

Floating around the spire in his arms as you rest, he whispers sweet nothings he could never bring himself to say to your face. He'll lead you around the winding halls of the spire with a path of your favorite flowers, aiding you in getting to where you want to go. He leaves gifts around, taking you on little treasure hunts just to reveal something sweet and heartfelt at the end. The spire itself shifts and changes around you to be more to your liking, and there are rooms within it dedicated to the hobbies you enjoy.

This gentleness is all hidden when you're together, though. Only showing itself when you can't look him in the eyes and reject him. He can't bring himself to let you in, he's scared of that rejection. He wants you to think he's powerful and amazing, so allowing you to see just how much he adores you would be terrible. What if you don't like him at his weakest? What if you realize that you could do better than him? What if you meet Pure Vanilla and you realize how much better he is? What if you leave him? Oh, it tears him apart.

So, he can't let you in. He'll put on a performance so dazzling it'll distract you from how much his heart aches when he sees you. He'll prove that he really does love you through flowery words and fantastical shows, anything to hide how much he adores you. Even when you try to get him to connect, he'll brush it off for fear of you not accepting him as he is. He can't handle you rejecting him, not after all he's done to keep you at his side, not after how hard he's fallen in love with you.

Post Episode 8

This is where we see Shadow Milk Cookie open up a lot more to you. After the so-called betrayal of Truthless Recluse, and his being incredibly emotionally vulnerable from Compassionate Pure Vanilla's offer for friendship, he's now forced with the problem of you knowing him. You saw that raw vulnerability, the loneliness that aches deep within his dough and infects his very being with a sickness he cannot cure.

No matter how much he puts on airs, he cannot avoid you knowing him now. He has nothing to hide behind anymore, you saw how much he craves connection and care, there's no going back from that. He briefly considers leaving you, but the idea of losing you sends shivers up his back, so he dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes. He may actively avoid you for a little while, but if you are patient and kind to him, he won't be able to hide for long.

Showing him that you still feel the same way by continuing your regular shows of affection is a huge relief to him. He truly expects you to think less of him now that you've seen that side of him, but you don't. It's rather odd to a cookie like him, who spent his entire existence being worshiped, revered, and feared. He assumes when you see him weak you will despise him - that you were only there for all the grandiose gifts and displays. He doesn't consider the thought that you have fallen in love with him. That you consider him yours as much as he considers you his.

It takes him a bit, but he begins to pick up where you left off. This time, though, he's more... gentle about everything. You get to take the lead around this time, and as odd as it is for him, it's cathartic to be taken care of for once. He can let his walls down and relax while you stroke his hair and hold him close to your chest. You kiss across his face with reverence that not even the most loyal of his followers could ever begin to replicate.

You love him.

He becomes addicted to the feeling, your affections being something he craves with a hunger he'd never felt before. It takes a bit for him to come to you for it, so usually you'll have to initiate it, but he melts into your hands so easily. It's pathetic how much hold a little cookie like you had over a god like him, but when you're humming sweet words at him he can't bring himself to care too much. (He will huff and puff if any of the other beasts give him shit for it, telling them off like a angry child.)

All of those hidden affections of his become much more obvious to you as time goes on. He's a bit awkward with it because he's never really been so open with any cookie before, but it's charming the way he tries so hard to be genuine with you.

You get to hear those sweet words of love from him directly, earnestly said while he holds your hand in an iron-tight grip. He gives you those heartfelt gifts by hand, telling you all about how he worked so hard to get it for you and how much care went into it. He leads you around places himself, preferring to be by your side than guiding you from a safe distance. Even the way he holds you is different, much more adoring than before. It's a kind of care he hadn't really shown you before, more considerate of what you might want rather than what he believes you might want.

And, of course, he kisses you now. Very frequently. He still does do it to fluster you at times, but less than he did before. Now every kiss has a purpose behind it, a means of displaying his affection for you. They're soft and loving, full of emotion.

Something that carries over consistently is the watching. He keeps an eye on you at all times, regardless of where you're at. Since you're no longer in the spire, there's more risk so he wants to ensure your safety. Even if you're with another beast or with Black Sapphire or Candy Apple, he's watching you anxiously.

Now if you acknowledge the eyes, they'll react to you. Before they usually just continued watching, but now they'll squint and shift excitedly at your attention. Sometimes he'll even drop flowers or a little plushie at your feet while the eye seems to grin at you with glee. You can kiss them, if you'd like -- they're warm and soft but they don't feel like eyes. If you do so the pupil with dart around nervously, then it'll pop out of existence and arrange itself to another spot you can't easily fluster him at.

Still, though, they just watch you for the most part. Making sure you're safe and happy when he isn't around. He's a bit less obsessive about who you're spending your time with, though. He trusts that you won't leave him a lot more now, and no longer finds himself threatened by anyone (other than PV).

Bonus below

Now, as a mortal cookie in beast yeast, most things put you in danger. It's a tough environment to live in, and there are a lot of violent characters around that wouldn't care if you died or not. However, most cookies are aware of Shadow Milk Cookie's, shall we say, claim on you.

There are very few things that could actually threaten you, especially with Shadow Milk Cookie monitoring you so closely. He makes the environment around you safer, and he makes sure everyone knows that you are off-limits. Unfortunately he cannot control everything, though he really does try to.

If anything, anything ever puts you in actual danger, he is beside himself with worry and rage. Your soft and sweet dough is not made for battle and danger, regardless of what you might feel. It would take the witches themselves to stop him from tearing apart the lands to ensure your safety. And tear them apart he would. He would carve deep valleys into the ground for you, slice mountains to their base, and raze forests flat if it means you will be safe.

If it's a cookie? Some insignificant act or protest from a foolish mortal, deciding to use you to get his attention? Oh, they'll know hell.

Depending on how much damage they do the punishment will vary, but it won't be pleasant regardless. If they just take you away for a little while, he'll torture them. Ensuring the life they go back to is much harder for them to live through, but he won't kill them. They have to learn their lesson and live to tell the tale so no one is stupid enough to follow their example.

If they hurt you at all, they're dead. Shadow Milk normally makes a show out of any crumbling he does, but when you are involved? He doesn't waste time with any silly shows, they just crumble. No fanfare, no sparkle, just death. They don't deserve anything more than that, not when they've caused you hurt.

Ah, and if there is a threat to you -- silly or not -- he takes it very seriously. His monitoring will increase tenfold, and he does his best to keep you with him at all times. He will not take your safety lightly, not when he adores you so.

If there is a genuine threat to your life, he will do everything in his power to remove it. After the fact, he becomes much more obsessive of your safety. It's almost suffocating for a while, but if you express concern he'll ease up a bit. Though you can feel the anxiety in his body language and the way which he speaks.