#the opposite of depression is expression | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riricatria · 1 month ago

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Hello, hello, first post!

The template is heavily inspired by @cinnamonest, I'm a big fan ┴┬┴┤◕‿◕｡)

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CONTENT WARNINGS INCLUDE: Dark content (dead dove), cisfem!Reader, verbal abuse, physical abuse (blood, bruises), one (1) bone breaking, the general psychological stuff that comes with yandere (obsession, possessiveness, imprisonment...), vague talk about depression, forced non-smechxual touching, NONCON, periods, brief anal, fingering, brief overstim, oral in both directions, rough boombayah, predator/prey dynamics.

Disclaimers can be found in my pinned post.

S-FW

˗ˏˋ ★ 1. General look: How are they like? How do they behave around the darling? Are there any warning signs?

Mydei, Mydeimos, Son of Gorgo, the crown prince of Kremnos, Lil’ De, or the tall, handsome Chrysos Heir that only speaks rough words and puts a strange amount of effort into trying to best Phainon of Aedes Elysiae in whatever challenge they have made up that day. You don’t know him well. Very few people do, really.

He has a pretty face, a toned body, and a beautiful mane of hair that brings a large feline to mind. Very few people can truthfully say that he’s not an attractive guy. You’re not one of them, either: You have caught yourself eyeing the man a few times, just from afar. The gossip about him has reached your ears, they say that he’s actually a big softie (he sometimes plays with the children in his free time, they insist), but the aura he gives off is nothing but gruff. He doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate random people coming up to him to chat.

That, and you’ve gotten the picture that he isn’t particularly fond of your company. From how he looks at you in passing, it seems like he would rather be talking with the talking lion statue on the wall. He has a nasty habit of making his feelings known, too, you think. When you walk past him at the bathhouse, he might click his tongue in annoyance or fold his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. Subconsciously, you begin taking the longer route around, just to make sure you don’t bump into him.

But what’s going on in his mind is the complete opposite of what you have gathered. He can’t get his eyes off of you. Maybe you’re just a random citizen that has moved in Okhema, wandering around the city, or maybe you’re with the Astral Express, completely new to the planet. Whatever it is, the moment he lays his gaze on you, it’s downhill from there.

He tries to deny it at first. That what’s growing inside of him isn’t infatuation, it’s actually just him finding you incredibly irritating and annoying and a waste of space and beautiful and mesmerizing and cute and-… this is the point where the tongue-click usually happens.

In a way, it’s convenient that he himself acts as the warning sign, although in a very reverse way. You think he can’t stand you, so naturally, you distance yourself from him, which is exactly what he does not want, but he can’t really help himself. The ball is already rolling (and the hill is so steep that the ball is basically just falling by this point), and you can do very little to prevent the continuum of events from happening.

Mydei is a bit peculiar in the sense that he doesn’t even attempt to court you in regular ways. No nice words, no compliments, no flowers, not even a hello, nothing. His brain just goes from ”oh she’s pretty” to ”I need to have her immediately” in the span of, like, ten minutes. It doesn’t take much brainwork, although he tries his absolute hardest to turn the whole set-up on its head in his mind. He isn’t one to fall in love, probably truly hasn’t in all of his years, even, so while the feeling is new to him. Still, he’s in control in the sense that he won’t make any rushed decisions.

The downside is that the said decisions that he ultimately settles on are… questionable at the very least. He’s a warrior at heart and very much used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. And what he wants is you, nothing less, nothing more. He almost feels entitled to you, in a way. Look at all he has done, look how incredible and strong he is, he deserves you. You’re nobody compared to him, you don’t get a say in the matter.

But at the same time, he’s terrified of the sheer humanness of the sentiment. He equates the feelings to a show of weakness (hence he tries to twist them into actually hating you), and it gnaws on his sense of self. You’re an obstacle, but at the same time, you’re a need.

So, then he starts stalking you. Or not stalking, it’s more about seeing how you go on about your day, walking around the city to maybe see what you’re up to, discreetly tailing you when you make your way home (it’s definitely stalking you). You begin seeing him more often in random places like at the market or at the plaza. His eyes always find yours for a moment before he makes a brief, sour expression. You start wondering if the crown prince really is that big of an ass, if he really dedicates precious time from his schedule to searching you out just to express his distaste towards you face-to-face. It’s ridiculous, you think, but even then, it’s up to you if you decide to change up your routes just to avoid him. Not that it’ll help; soon enough, you’ll start bumping into him again.

Mydei knows he’s being weird, or at least that his behaviour appears strange to you. Still, he rationalizes it in, quite frankly, a ridiculous way. Yeah, what he’s doing is strange, but because he’s a powerful figure, a Chrysos Heir, the warrior of Okhema, whatever he’s doing is not strange. Because he’s so far above everyone else. Obviously this is within his rights.

Phainon and Tribbie are the only ones that may comment on his activities. Tribbie is encouraging in the way that she tries to get Mydei to actually, you know, try to get you to like him. She very carefully suggests that the reverse-psychology trick he’s got going on may not yield very good results, she tries to direct him down the correct path, only to be faced with little to no results. Phainon is more humorous about it, teases him, might even come chat to you about him if he’s feeling mischievous. You, of course, don’t believe a word he says, you think he’s just trying to lift your mood or protect your self-esteem from the constant dirty looks, so you just end up rolling your eyes and telling him to tell Mydei to leave you alone. You would say it to the crown prince directly if it weren’t for the immediate public humiliation you would face, you reason.

However, in the end, it is Phainon that ends up being the catalyst and airing a proposal to Mydei which ultimately seals your fate. The two of them are chatting idly, maybe in the middle of their rivalry again, and Phainon speaks out a cheeky remark: ”Maybe you should just grab her for yourself if she’s that big of a deal to you”. Mydei is about to snap right back with a bicker, but when the sentence registers in his brain, he comes to think. Wait, what if…?

Surely, it would be alright. He’s the crown prince of Kremnos, a Chrysos Heir, he’s THE Mydeimos. Would it be that immoral of him to want something like that? Surely he has done enough for the city and its people to deserve this one thing? Surely he has suffered enough? And so, the final nail is hammered into your coffin.

˗ˏˋ ★ 2. Securing: How will they abduct their darling? When, where and how?

It’s quick, it’s sudden, it’s very vaguely thought-out, it’s rough.

The reason why the plan isn’t very calculated or meticulous is because he himself doesn’t see a need for it to be that way. It works, and that’s all that matters to him. There isn’t even any impulsivity to it, either, he just decides the day and time and goes with it.

He takes you from your own residence, likely in the city. The Okheman architecture is convenient in the way that the windows are wide open, and he uses that to his advantage. It’s late into the night, and he’s standing at the base of your apartment, looking up at what he knows is your bedroom window. It’s quite high up, but a leap of a dozen meters is nothing to his honed, immortal body.

You’re in your bed. The night is hot, and you’re wearing nothing but your sleeping attire. You have moved the blanket to the side, baring yourself to his scrutiny. You’re fast asleep.

It’s ridiculous how easy it is for him to just reach down and grab your body. It even takes you a moment to wake up from your slumber, to try to comprehend the situation you’re in, but by the time you actually open your eyes, there’s a gauntleted hand over your mouth and a rock-solid arm wrapped around your upper body.

You recognize the attacker. He sees your eyes widen, the way reality sinks in your mind. The terror is nearly tangible.

You think he’s going to kill you. That Mydeimos, the Chrysos Heir is actually going to murder you in your own home. His hand over your face prevents you from screaming out, and the arm is, with so little effort, restricting any and all movement. It’s petrifying, the way your life flashes before your eyes, your mind goes to the image of your friends finding your bloody corpse by the bed. How your loved ones will stand by your grave, mourning your destiny without possibly ever getting to know what happened to you.

But then, Mydei just tells you to shut up before hauling your body around and hoisting it up like you weigh nothing. And to him, you don’t. With one hand still on your mouth and the other holding you up and against him, he flees the room through the window and starts making his way to the ruins of Castrum Kremnos.

The trip to the castle is not a quick one. Even with his impressive speed, it takes a good while for you to reach the premises. That, and he’s sprinting with you in his arms. It wouldn’t even be an effort if it wasn’t for the way you’re trying to flail around, trying to punch him, squirm out of his grasp, make as much noise as possible. It almost makes him want to give your head a good bonk so you would go quiet. But he doesn’t. And soon enough, you reach his home city.

The plan being very vague includes that he doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to do with you once he reaches the place. You need a spot to stay, obviously, somewhere the titankin can’t reach you, where you can’t escape from, where you can comfortably stay for the better part of your day. That, at least for the time being, ends up being a small, dark room on one of the high towers of the castle. There’s not a lot of space, no furniture, only rubble and dust with a single, small opening in the wall where the light pools in from. The view is frankly depressing, even to his eyes.

After the crescent moon shaped lock clicks shut behind him, he finally sets you down and removes his hands from your body. The moment your feet hit the ground, you’re scrambling away until your back hits the opposite wall, creating as much space between you and him as you’re able. You point a finger up at him, eyes wide and a couple of tears spilling past your lashes, and you immediately start spitting profanities and questions at him, screaming your lungs out, threatening to tell the other Heirs. The act isn’t very convincing to him, though; he can see the way your knees buckle and your arms shake, the way your eyes dart around the room.

And he’s so nonchalant about it that you nearly explode. After haunting you for weeks on end, he has decided to, what, ”take you for himself”? You’re livid just as much as you’re terrified, but that does very little to wound his pride. He simply folds his arms and answers your questions with little to no compassion, stating things as matter-of-fact rather than even trying to console you.

Though, he does understand your concerns. He doubts anybody would find the experience of being kidnapped very pleasant. Then, you start yelling him about more trivial matters like ”where the fuck do you expect me to sleep here?!” and ”what the hell will I eat?”. These are the things that he hasn’t yet had time to arrange, and the points are valid in that sense. He himself doesn’t like sleeping on cold, hard ground, either. He should find you a mattress, he thinks, though he doubts there are any just lying around in the ruins.

Then you start complaining that it’s cold in there, and you’re only in your pyjamas, that everything is bad, horrible. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, raising his voice and telling you that you’ll sleep with him for tonight and that he’ll get you a bed tomorrow.

Your jaw hangs open at the sheer audacity of this man, but ultimately, you can’t do much when he walks to you in a few, long strides, grabs your body like a sack of flour, rests down by the wall and settles you in his lap. Obviously, you don’t just give up and go to sleep right away. Instead, you attempt to throw punches at him, kicking him to the best of your ability, trying to squirm out of his iron grip. It’s kind of funny to him, actually, and he makes it known by straight up laughing at your face. You can either go to sleep or fight him until the morning if you’d like, it won’t change anything, he scoffs at you. And, after struggling an hour or two, you go slack in his hold.

˗ˏˋ ★ 3. Life: What is it like to live with them? How do they treat the darling?

It’s less than ideal at first. Considering the factor that you don’t have all the comforts of your previous home like, eh, a bed, the first few days are especially rough. You’re alone for a good portion of your day, locked away in a small room with practically nothing to do. Your only source of light is the small window, and even with it, you’re mostly encased in dimness. The door is firmly locked, and the window is so small in size that your shoulders and you don’t think your hips would squeeze through it even if you tried. You contemplate on finding out for yourself, but for now, you don’t, since you have bigger things to worry about, such as making sure you don’t die of thirst while he’s away.

Conveniently, the moon symbol on the lock starts spinning just as you start worrying, the door opens. Mydei steps into the room and tells you to get up. When you fail to immediately comply, he walks over to you and grabs you by the arm. You protest, telling him that you’re able to walk on your own two feet, but it isn’t until you voluntarily take proper steps without dragging that he lets you not be carried.

He takes you to a different part of the castle. It’s much cleaner, there’s less rubble, less dust here. He leads you past the hallways and to a larger door embedded in the wall. Behind it, you find a more spacious, furnished room. There’s a sizable, plush bed, there’s a shelf, there’s a door to what you assume is the bathroom, a desk, a chair. He leads you in with a firm hand on your upper back. There’s a large window on the east wall, one you could easily fit through. You make a mental note of it.

Everything you need is in the room. There’s even a bowl of pomegranates on the desk. It takes a moment for the puzzle pieces to click together in your brain. Albeit expressionless, Mydei’s eyes keenly observe your reaction from the way your brows knit together to how you look around the room in confusion. And then you start lashing out again, telling him how there’s ”no fucking way that you're gonna live in some monster-filled ruins with zero social contacts and activities”. Huh, activities? Oh, of course. You need something to entertain yourself with when he’s away on his business and whatnot. In a dismissive voice, he promises to do something about it tomorrow, but for tonight, the two of you are sleeping in your brand new bed (he holds you while you writhe and scratch at him).

In the following day, as he promised, he gets you something to busy yourself with. He’ll visit the market or the Grove to get you a book or two. He’ll go around the city and get you some snacks. Mydei would be lying through his teeth if he said that he knows exactly what you like, but the idea is still there. Besides, if the stuff doesn’t suit your preferences, he can just bring you more.

It takes a few days for you to warm up to the idea of accepting his gifts. After hours and hours on end of sitting around doing nothing but sleeping and staring at the ceiling, you finally pick up the book he brought you. It’s not particularly interesting; just some tales about the Titans and such, but opposed to spending even one more minute in complete boredom, you would much rather have this.

Mydei also takes you outside regularly. Some days he’s not able to spend too much time with you during the day, but even then, he knows the importance of sunlight exposure and fresh air. So, the two of you may walk around the ruins for a bit, he takes you to different parts of the castle at first. Then, if you don’t show too much resistance, he might start taking you back to Okhema, albeit on very limited terms. It’s only in hidden areas, mostly those where only the Heirs are allowed to enter. You’re strictly prohibited from talking to anyone, too, and if you do, you’ll never see the city again, he threatens. You mostly get to wander around a bit — under his watchful eye, of course. You even get to talk to Phainon a few times since Mydei seems to trust him enough to have you around him.

Furthermore, Mydei attempts to make it so that you’ll get to bathe in the bathhouse once a day, or at least every two days. Oftentimes, that ends up being the highlight of your nights. He rarely demands anything from you during those times, so you’ll get to have some peace for yourself.

In contrast, moments you dread the most are those when he’s actually forcing you to spend time with him. If he doesn’t have anything better to do (and you’re considerably high up on his list of priorities), he might just sit around in your room and stare at you until you give him attention. Attention meaning that you’ll talk to him, and even then he’ll pretend to be somewhat uninterested just to save face. You don’t know if he does it on purpose or if that’s really how dense he is, but the only way to eventually get him to leave you alone is to entertain him. What a prick. He would love to hold you, too, if you’d just let him. And he might do it even if you’re less than willing.

Your life falls into a cycle of sorts. You wake up with Mydei (typically encased in his arms), he gets you food, he leaves for his business for a few hours, you stay in your room, he comes back, you spend time with him, he might take you outside, night rolls around, you get to go to the baths, you come back, you go to sleep, encased in his arms, naturally.

If you’re lucky, he might even move you back to Okhema a few months into your captivity. This is only if you’ve been on your best behaviour, though. And if you attempt an escape, you’ll go right back to square one.

˗ˏˋ ★ 4. Rules: What kind of rules do they enforce? How lenient are they? How do they keep their darling in check?

He doesn’t actually have a thought-out set of rules for the darling. He expects you to have common sense, to understand unspoken expectations. It’s mostly just things like ”don’t escape” and ”don’t break stuff” and ”do what I say”. He never speaks these things out loud, but they have become quite clear to you. If you do something that displeases him, he lets you know in non-verbal ways like roughly grabbing you by the arm.

Other than the basics, he doesn’t really care what you do when you’re in your own room since there’s nothing much that could cause harm to you (or him) there. Mydei, if anybody, knows that it’s important not to restrict a person too much if you want them to remain happy, so he doesn’t intervene with your me-time too much. He won’t let you roam around, though — not without him, anyway. You’re going to stay locked up in your room.

If you’ve proven to be untrustworthy (an escape attempt, trying to hurt him, that sort of thing), he’ll keep you chained to the bed by one of your ankles with a heavy leg iron. If you’re actively trying to hurt yourself, he might shackle your hands to the bedposts, too. He won’t let you out of your bindings until you’ve been compliant for a good amount of time.

Aside from the physical restrictions, his presence alone is enough to keep you on good behaviour most of the time. You’re much too scared to attempt anything under his watchful eye, and he’s very aware of this himself. Most of the time, he utilizes the effect he has on you, to keep you in check. Though, at times, he thinks it would be nice if you just remained pliant by your own volition. Frightening you is somewhat counter-intuitive if his goal is to get you to like him, after all.

˗ˏˋ ★ 5. Consequences: What kind of punishments will the darling face? How do they punish different offences?

Oh, it’s not pretty. As stated, Mydei (in the eye of the public, anyway) isn’t known to be a very gentle person, and that translates to how he will deal with a disobedient darling. He’s quite an irritable man in general, so even the mildest offences can earn a disproportionately violent reaction from him.

Mydei has got a sharp tongue. He isn’t a man of many words, but at the same time, he most definitely isn’t one to spare any of them if need be. That being said, his most likely response to the smallest misdemeanours is a few harsh words. It doesn’t even need to be an actual offence, really. It can be things such as accidentally dropping a plate on the floor, or even something like making an expression that didn’t appease him at the moment. He will comment on it, berating you in that aggressive yet indifferent tone of his. He calls you things like ”insolent thing”, ”weak fool” or ”puny woman” and follows them with an insult directed at whatever you did wrong.

Note that scolding is the mildest possible consequence you can receive, and it, too, is heavily dependent on his mood. If he’s having a particularly bad day, even something as miniscule as you stumbling on something could be enough to have him grab you by the shoulder and throw you right back into your room.

The mildest of wrongdoings aside, the punishment for deliberate acts of disobedience is almost always physical. He’s incredibly strong, so even if he doesn’t actually mean to hurt you, the way he manhandles you is usually painful enough to get the point across. Talking back at him, rejecting his touches, refusing to eat out of spite, such things commonly earn you pain in one form or another. If he’s feeling merciful, he may just yank you by your arm and have his gauntlet dig into your skin as he verbally degrades you. If his mood is less than ideal, he might even grab you by the hair and push you to the ground, lightly (although it doesn’t feel like that to you) dig his heel into your side until you get the point. And usually, by then, you’ve swallowed whatever spite you had.

Mydei isn’t one to be psychologically cruel about his methods of punishment. The most deliberate mental torment you might face with him is being locked in your room for a few hours, and, if he’s being completely truthful, that’s more for him than you, as well. Not having you in his immediate vicinity gives him a chance to cool down and rethink what is a suitable consequence for you — this way he doesn’t cave in to his first instinct which is to physically hurt you.

Your privileges may very well get revoked if you misbehave. If you continuously spit back at him or show defiance in other ways, he might just take your means of entertainment away. Oh, you pulled away when he tried to embrace you? That book he had got you a few days ago will be locked away for the day. You yelled at him (after he called you weak and incapable)? He’s not going to take you for a walk today, you’re just going to have to spend time with him inside. See how it feels.

When it comes to the most serious of offences, though, that’s when his worst sides come out. His response is very in-the-moment, rough, and uncontrolled. He has a hard time keeping his own strength in check at these times.

Most likely into the early weeks of your captivity, you’ll get a first taste of how Mydei is when he’s really mad. You’re about to commit your first escape attempt, you’re going to try to flee the ruins he has trapped you in. It’s not much, but you’ve prepared yourself a make-shift dagger (to stab him if need be and to defend yourself from the titankin roaming the place), and you’re pretty sure that you can make the jump off the balcony and to the building on the other side.

It’s one of those days when he goes out to Okhema — Chrysos Heir business or something, you’re not really sure and asking him about it has proven mostly futile — and you’re good to go. He naively trusts you to have enough common sense not to try to leap into your death via the open window, and the time to take advantage of that has come.

You make the jump, only barely managing to cling onto the window sill and succeeding in pulling yourself into safety. This room is not locked, and you’re able to make your way down the staircase and out of the building.

The ruins are difficult to navigate, there’s rubble everywhere, there are strange mechanisms that you’re unable to operate, and most horrifyingly, the monsters are everywhere. You’re scared, terrified, running for your life through the collapsing bridges and twisting hallways. However, with your objective in mind, you gather your strength and wander further.

It’s obvious, it should’ve been obvious to you as well, but you were never destined to make it far. Not even fifteen minutes into your stunt, blood-curdling, other-wordly shrieks and the sound of creatures twice your size being thrown into walls catches up with you. By this point, you know it’s over, but despite the inevitable, you still continue sprinting for the remaining twenty seconds you have left until a hand finds your shoulder.

You’re jerked backwards in a movement so violent that it throws you straight onto the ground. Then, in a blink of an eye, Mydei’s armoured fingers dig into your scalp, grabbing a fistful of hair before he pulls your head off the floor. He doesn’t utter a word, and you make the mistake of straining your neck to take a look at his face.

His nostrils are flared, his eyes are blown wide, and he’s panting out in rapid, deep breaths as if he’s holding onto the last ounces of self-restraint he has. He silently glares you in the eye for a good few seconds before he mushes your face against the floor. You can screech and cry out your desperation, you can try and beg him to stop, but that won’t deter him from pressing your cheek against the marble until you’re sure there’s a bruise forming on the side of your head. At this point, he will begin spouting profanities and insults at you, first hissing and growling before it builds up to full-blown yelling. Some of it is berating you for putting yourself in mortal danger, but a good part of it is just shouting at you for the sake of it. He exercises his status that way. It’s loud and guttural, and it would get the point across even without the words.

After a long while, he will yank your now limp body off the ground and throw it over his shoulder. If you decide that you still have one in you at this point, he just might throw you on the ground like a ragdoll and actually step on you. It would be the wisest to just accept your fate at this point.

The scariest part, however, comes when you’re back at where he keeps you. He reaches your room, and as the door slides shut behind him, he drops you down without care and with so much force that you don’t even get a chance to find solid footing. You fall onto the floor butt first, but before you can even try to scramble back up, his fingers are wrapped around your wrist.

There’s still that same, frenzied look in his eyes when his hold tightens, the metal claws pierce your skin. You can howl in pain all you want, you can try to thrash around. His grip won’t loosen, even when he yanks you up from the floor and grabs you by the head with his free hand. He resumes hissing curses at you while he practically dangles you in the air. His hold just becomes firmer, he presses harder, his fingers burrow deeper. Your cries grow louder, more panicked, as the pressure becomes unbearable, something is going to break, something is going to-

And then, he hears the sickening, distinct crack of a bone snapping. The sound is immediately accompanied by an animalistic shriek so loud that he can’t believe it’s from your mouth. He lets go of your body, and you drop to the ground on your knees. You wail in pain, eyes saucer-wide with terror as you clutch on your wrist with a wildly trembling hand. His eyes fixate on the purple splotch that’s now forming under your skin.

Your howls of pain don’t stop, even as your breathing becomes so laboured that you can barely get a coherent sound out. Your gaze flicks from your wrist to him, to the door, at his face, back at your wrist, back at him, all the while you rock your shaking body back and forth in your delirium. Fat tears spill down your cheeks, and a line of snot streams over your upper lip as you screech out unintelligible sounds. You’re gasping for air like you’re drowning, you’re wheezing hysterically, the colour is draining from your face.

It hurts so bad. You’re not sure which bone it is, maybe it’s one of the long ones on your forearm, maybe it’s one the hand’s side, but all you know is that it feels like your wrist has been lit on fire. You didn’t think he could do this to you, you didn’t believe he would ever go this far. And neither did he, truthfully.

Mydei has no idea what to do. He vaguely understands that he has crossed the line, he comprehends what has happened, but the red-hot rage is still fogging his judgment and blinding his vision. His gaze flickers from your quivering hand to your terror-struck expression, to his own hand still half-extended, back at your form, back at his hand.

He takes a step towards you. You let out a scream that could surely be heard by the titankin outside if he hadn’t just eradicated a good half of them. He gets closer, and you wildly kick your legs, completely uncoordinated, to either try to create distance in between you and him or pathetically attempt to defend yourself from him.

Either way, all his fury-clouded mind can think of doing is crouching down to your level, grabbing your head and covering your mouth and nose. Naturally, you only wail and flail harder in response, but he keeps his palm slotted against your airways. You can’t breathe. He repeatedly yells at you to calm down, but his tone of voice is doing nothing to further the cause. It’s only when you’re sure that you’re going to pass out that he lets go of your face. After you go right back to hyperventilating, he slaps his hand back down. It’s messy, it’s loud, it’s terrifying, it’s violent. The cycle repeats until you lie limp in his arms, eyes unfocused, legs twitching, drool staining the side of your mouth. You don’t remember much after that point.

The aftermath is just as rough. It’s only after a few hours that you’ve calmed down enough to be able to assess your own situation. Mydei has left you alone in your room, one leg chained to the bed, to go ”calm down” but judging from the noise from outside, he’s doing anything but that. At this point, you’re much too tired to even try to grasp the reality aside from the apparent bruise swelling around your entire wrist, or to even entertain the thought of another escape plan.

You don’t talk about it afterwards. He doesn’t seem to care, obviously he doesn’t apologize, he never really does. He makes an attempt to nurse the appendage, wrap something around it, put a splint on it. If it’s really bad, he may even bring you to Hyacine (and stare a hole through the back of her head the entire time she works) and let her heal you. After that, the circumstances return back to what he would call normal, but you swear you can sometimes see him flinch when your shoulder or knee pops.

˗ˏˋ ★ 6. Emotions I: How do they show love? How do they attempt to make the darling love them?

Mydei is a… difficult person in this sense. His only ever verbal show of emotion seems to be that of annoyance. It’s the huffs, the way he clicks his tongue, the aggressive stance, and then the words. You can’t recall many times you’ve seen him smile. Still, despite his harsh tongue and tough shell, deep in his heart, he still wants his darling to love him. So, he does his best to show love through actions rather than words.

During the first few days of your captivity, he doesn’t really touch you aside from when he has to move you or carry you. However, further in, you find his hands wandering on you more and more often. It starts with little touches on the shoulders and arms, more to grab your attention than anything, but then it evolves to touching your hair, your hands, your lower back, your sides. He never gives you a warning before he subtly closes the distance between the two of you, he doesn’t speak a word when the palms of his hands caress down your arms, making their way to your hands, back up your shoulders, over to your hair where he picks out a strand and twirls it between his fingers. Moments like these are extremely vulnerable to him, so if you decide to open your mouth during them, be prepared for a prickly response.

As he feels you under his fingertips, he’s hit with the realization of how frail you truly are. He becomes aware of how easy it would be for him to snap your femur clean in half with a single hand, how tiny your hands are compared to his, how little force he would have to use to shatter your skull. The thought terrifies him, only gives more fuel to the instinct to keep you locked away from the world.

He ends up making his way behind you and has you pause whatever it is that you’re busy with. You perk up as you feel the metal on the back of his gauntlets slowly trail down your back, making out the curve of your spine under your clothing, feeling your warmth. It’s the only way he can rid himself of these thoughts.

He also loves to do mundane things like cook for you. He surprisingly takes pride in his culinary skills, so preparing food for you is one of the most intimate things he will do. Furthermore, if you show a positive response when he brings you a plate of a home-cooked version of whatever food you had once mentioned that you liked, he will remain in exceptionally good spirits for the rest of the day. Beware that if you refuse the gesture, he might not do it again for a considerable amount of time.

Mydei occasionally brings you little trinkets and such from whenever he visits Okhema. They’re little things like flowers or jewellery, maybe even more stuff to entertain yourself with like literature or painting supplies. If you ask him about the habit, his response is always a defensive huff and something along the lines of ”I’ll take them back if you don’t want them”, but when you hastily shake your head and tell him that you like them, his shoulders visibly relax. If you’re feeling daring, you could ask him for a specific item, and if he’s in a pleasant mood, the request may even be fulfilled. Given that you’ve been good, that is.

Though he enjoys all the aforementioned things, if there’s one thing he really, truly loves, it’s bathing with you. Even though it’s basically a daily thing, it’s something that makes his heart swell up with contentment.

It’s only really late into the evening, only when everybody else has left the Hero’s Bath, when he brings you out into some small, remote corner of the bathhouse and plants your butt in the pleasantly warm water. He never speaks a word when he does so, only strips himself of his clothes (save for a towel around his hips) and sits right beside you, arms folded and thighs spread. It’s surprisingly serene in his company in these moments: he rests still in the bath, head tilted backwards, eyes closed. You can’t say you’re exactly relaxed yourself, the bathing suit you insisted on him giving you is a bit too loose around certain areas to your taste, but the hot, steaming air does manage to calm your nerves, even if only a little.

And then he opens his eyes, lets out a huff like he’s displeased, and turns to you. His ungloved fingers wrap around your upper arm, and he mutters out a ”come here” before dragging your body over to his lap. You don’t even have time to protest before the rough pads of his fingers slide your shoulder straps down, baring your upper body to him. If you start complaining, he might snarl at your struggling, saying that ”he can only see your back anyway” before telling you to stay still. And you do.

He reaches for a basket by the edge of the bath and grabs a bottle of some ointment, maybe soap, you’re not really sure. He pops the container open, and soon you feel his hand smearing the substance all over your shoulders and back. He isn’t particularly soft with the motions, no, but it’s gentle for his standards. His palms glide along your skin, sometimes pressing a bit firmer, effectively lulling you into a state of at least moderate tranquillity. Then he rinses your skin before picking out another bottle, and the actions repeat. It’s best if you stay silent; He might just dip your face in the water if you don’t keep your comments to yourself.

Oh, and if you’re in your manipulation era and you’re up for gaining some leniency from him, he will absolutely melt if you offer to do the same for him. He may even refuse the first couple of times, not believing that you’d actually want to do that, but keep insisting, and he will cave in. And, not that he would tell you, but it’s one of the most euphoric experiences in his long lifetime.

˗ˏˋ ★ 7. Emotions II: How do they deal with the darling’s emotions? How are outbursts handled? How do they attempt to comfort the darling?

Much like with how he shows love, dealing with the darling’s own feelings is less about words and more about actions. His words might even make the situation worse, he has noticed. You tend to flinch at his voice, no matter what it is that comes out of his mouth. It’s especially when you’re in a sorry state, either angry or depressed, that you seem unable to be comforted verbally.

If you lash out at him, his go-to is just throwing you back in your room for a cooldown. There’s nothing much to break there, you can throw your blanket around at most, you can bang on the door, you can scream. It’ll tire you out, too, and you have a habit of falling asleep after the flame has burned out, he has noticed.

Or, if you’re being an active risk to yourself (and him, though you could never actually do more than graze his skin), he might resort to holding you down or against him until you calm down. This method is less of a punishment and more of a necessary effort, despite you being sore after as his grip is quite tight. The most words you’ll get out of him during these moments is him telling you to cut it out and calm down in his gruff tone.

When it comes to a teary and sorrowful darling, he tends to take a softer approach. In such moments, you don’t really pose a physical threat anyway, so restricting you would be of no use. You don’t really come to him when you’re sad, believing that having him around would only bring you down further, but he himself is inclined to seek you out. It’s a protective instinct, he reassures himself, because your form appears even weaker than usual then. Not because he’s worried about you or anything.

Mydei has a hard time accepting the fact, and he would never say it out loud, but deep inside, he’s a gentle soul. That’s why seeing you in both physical and (especially) mental pain brings him great anguish.

Still, in spite of that, if he were to find you balled up in your room, quietly sobbing with your face buried against your knees, his first impulse is not trying to soothe you. For a good while, he can only stand a short distance away from you, gazing down at you with an unreadable expression. He observes the situation silently, and if it looks like you have no intention of trying to bash his skull in, he will come closer. He will take you up into his arms before sitting down on the bed with you in his lap. Usually, you’re in no state to refuse his affections at this point, so you just rest your face against his broad chest and sniffle. If he senses that you’re particularly receptive, he might stroke his hand up and down your head and back.

He only stops when you fall asleep in his hold (and it’s the only way to get him to stop, so if you want him gone, you can pretend to sleep). He will set you on the mattress with uncharacteristic tenderness, tuck you in and leave for a little while. If you ask him about his conduct later, his reaction is defensive, he’s obviously a bit flustered about it, but he will repeat the same pattern nonetheless if the situation demands it.

One of the few good things that can come out of you being miserable for days on end is that he might come home one day with a special gift to you. He mutters something along the lines of ”I’ll take it back if you don’t take care of it”, and sets a decently sized, fabric-clad box in your lap. You look at him with your fatigued eyes, then at the item, then back at him… until the thing moves. Mydei doesn’t make an effort to exit the room, only looking down at you, expressionless, so you decide to go ahead and see what the package contains.

The cover slides off what you come to see is a small cage. Your mouth falls ajar as you see what he has got you: Inside the bars rests a small, orange chimera. The animal looks up at you with its huge, round eyes, tilting its disproportionately large head to the side, wagging its little tail.

Mydei swears that, for the first time in what feels like forever, he sees a tinge of curiosity in your dull gaze as you observe the creature in your lap. With trembling hands, you bring your fingers to the latch and open it. The chimera immediately flees the containment, leaping down from your thighs and proceeding to run circles around the room while panting excitedly. Mydei watches as your gaze follows the thing, your expression conveying nothing short of awe. He wants to burn this image to his retinas, to savour the look of wonder on your face. Even if it’s only for now.

˗ˏˋ ★ 8. Thing to exploit: What are the darling’s best chances at escaping? Are there things the darling can use to their advantage? How can the darling make things easier for themselves?

Your best bet at fleeing is Tribbie. It’s not Phainon, it’s not Castorice, it’s not Aglaea, it’s Tribbie.

On your own, you won’t make it further than a few hundred meters away from your room before Mydei catches up to you and brings you back flailing. The ruins are much too difficult to traverse, and besides, he knows the layout like the back of his hand, and he’s almost never gone long enough for you to attempt an actual escape that way. So, your only bet is to get yourself a helping hand.

Castorice will turn a blind eye to your suffering. She knows that Mydei is hiding someone in the ruins, and maybe she would like to help, but she ultimately decides that maybe it’s for the best not to intervene. She values peace over it. Aglaea will not care. It may even be beneficial for the Kremnoan warrior to have something to take his aggression out on, she thinks.

You think that Phainon is the most likely to help you — you might even meet him a couple of times when he finds his way to Castrum Kremnos — but he’s actually the worst of the bunch. He may very well have his own darling back at Okhema at this point, too.

You get the chance to talk to Phainon alone for a minute when Mydei goes to fetch something. Even knowing that your time frame is very limited, you don’t hesitate to immediately drop to your knees in front of him and start begging for him to help you escape. However, he only gives you a sympathetic smile in response. For a moment, you think that he’s actually going to aid you, but then he places his hand on the crown of your head and ruffles your hair. ”He can be rough sometimes, I know”, he laughs softly. Your heart sinks.

But Tribbie will, no doubt, take enough pity on you to consider helping you. The only issue is that you and her may never come into contact with each other. Tribbie has little to no business in the ruined city, and it may very well be that she doesn’t even really know about your situation. However, if you somehow manage to catch her attention and tell her about your circumstances, she may offer to send you away. Maybe it’s unlocking the route for you, maybe she even uses the Century Gate to get you out, but after that, you’re on your own. And, it doesn’t need to be mentioned that the crown prince will hunt you down to the ends of the planet if need be. You should know that he won’t fail that mission, either.

So, if you want to truly regain your freedom, you need to leave Amphoreus altogether. In this regard, your best chance is the Astral Express. Find them, drop to their feet, pray for them to help, and maybe they’ll extend their aid to you. If the Express is not around —well, good luck.

Escaping aside, there is one simple thing to exploit if you want your life to be easier. That is to just be nice and loving to him. Mydei would like to call himself a perceptive person, he wants to say that he sees through your little tricks, but if you show him the slightest bit of affection, he will melt. Touch his bare arm, say a nice thing or two, search out his company, and his fierce exterior will turn to mush. It has to be consistent, though: the first few times he might even brush you off, thinking that you’re just trying to manipulate him (which is exactly what you’re trying to do), but keep it coming, and he will cave in. This will bring you more privileges like time outside, more things to entertain yourself with, and he might even let you meet the other Heirs on a more regular basis if you’ve been compliant enough.

On the top of the list of stuff you should not do is talking about his parents. He will start tweaking, and the consequences of that are never pleasant. You find out quickly that his past is something that’s usually risky to bring up in any context. Very few things can wound his pride, but you are special in that sense because just about anything you say might be a blow to his ego in one way or another. It’s a 50/50 whether that brings you closer to your objective or if it makes him chain your ankle to the bed again.

˗ˏˋ ★ 9. Further notes: Is there anything that sets them apart from the other yanderes? What unique qualities do they possess?

”There’s no word for ’flee’ in the Kremnoan language”, ”there’s no word for ’fear’ in the Kremnoan language”, ”there’s no word for ’betrayal’ in the Kremnoan language”, yada-yada-yada. Are there any fucking words in this fuckass language, you start to wonder.

Well, the words the language does seem to have are all battle, all insult, all challenge. He is a warrior at heart, of course, and that does bleed into your life with him. Especially if you’re a particularly feisty type of a darling, be prepared to fight for your privileges, literally.

It may start as something simple like you asking for help picking up a book, one that you can’t reach, it’s too high up on the shelf. He says that ”okay, sure, he’ll get it for you”, but then as he picks it out for you, he holds it over your head, just out of your reach. He dangles it right there, and you can see the way the corners of his mouth are tugging up in amusement. So, you jump and try to grab the item. He pulls it higher. You try to jump again, he dodges. If there’s one thing he’s really talented at, it’s riling you up in the worst of ways.

He won’t give you the damn book, not until you have basically climbed up his body and grabbed the stupid thing with your legs wrapped around his torso. And during your attempt, he spews out snarky comments like ”you think you’re so strong, then prove it” and ”you can’t even touch it. Pathetic”, and it makes you so livid that eventually there are red marks on his skin from you trying to claw at his bare bicep. Insufferable fuck. He even drops the ”HKS”-bomb on you. Irreparable damage.

On a completely different note, on the gentler side of things, you come to find that Mydei is completely unable to initiate any physical affection through words. There’s no come here, no hey, let me, and most certainly no may I. If he’s craving your touch, his method of going on about it is just… taking it. You may be doing something completely unrelated, maybe reading your book, maybe stretching, maybe eating, and he just comes behind you and grabs you by the waist. He just pulls you away from your activity, your back against his chest, hoists you up into the air. He walks to the bed or couch or even the floor with you in his arms before settling down in a comfortable position. He buries his nose in your hair and closes his eyes. Beware that you’ll be staying in that position for a while, so get cosy.

He strokes up and down your arms, he might play with your hair, trace the lines on your hand, rub your feet, all the while he remains completely silent. If you take a look at his face, you’ll come to find that he doesn’t look like he’s really enjoying himself, even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. It’s another one of the times where you really should not open your mouth if you value your peace.

It’s much too embarrassing, much too vulnerable to verbally ask for your touch, he seems to think. He can’t let you know that his clarity of mind depends on these instances, even though it’s so painfully obvious that you want to tear chunks of his beautiful, blond hair off. However, on the brighter side, you should know that he’s going to be in a good mood after these sessions, so if there’s something you’re planning to request from him, cuddling him is a good start.

Out of all of his quirks, perhaps the most intriguing one is that Mydei has a very strange way of viewing you in general. You, as in your existence and being. On one hand, he sees you as frail, fragile, completely on the mercy of others and incapable of defending yourself. Then, on the other, he knows you’re a strong personality, you don’t give up easily, and that makes him want to test your limits in both mind and body. It gives him a kind of a thrill to hold that power over you.

The latter manifests in the bickering and insults, the physical strain he makes you go through to get what you want, what you need from him. He may even go as far as taking you outside, pointing at a random (very tall) boulder and going ”if you can climb on top of that, I’m going to take you to Okhema tomorrow”. You take the bait both out of spite and just, well, desperation. And you obviously don’t make it higher than a meter or two. He laughs at your unsuccessful attempts to scramble up the uneven surface, he lets you try for as long as you’d like, and unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take that long for you to tire yourself out. After you’re left sprawled on the ground, all sweaty and chest heaving, he will simply pick you up with a mocking chuckle before taking you back inside. All the while he walks about how weak you are. Fuck his ass.

An unexpected consequence of these ”trials” is that you notice improvements in your physical abilities. You don’t tire out nearly as quickly as before, you’re stronger, you can run farther. It’s a plus, sure, but you still haven’t managed to complete any of the challenges he has presented you with, and you doubt you ever will because the difficulty has only gone up.

In contrast, the times he will treat you like you could crumble into dust in his hands are when you’re in actual pain, either physical or mental. More often than not, both are a result of his own actions (which he doesn’t know how to feel about). He would like to state the opposite, but it seems that he’s really not in control of his own strength or words when he loses his cool, and it’s especially obvious when you’ve been ”acting up”.

In the aftermath of the times he has crossed the line, he tends to go quiet, gathering your trembling form in his arms and moving you over to a better spot. It’s in these moments that he expresses regret in his actions (non-verbally, obviously), stroking your hair with his hand, pressing your ear against his chest to listen to his elevated heartbeat. It almost makes you feel like a pet, in a way, it’s kind of dehumanizing how quickly he can go from angry and brutish to caring and serene. And, he tends to be a little more soft with you in the following couple of days.

One more thing, Mydei would absolutely love to braid your hair for you. He has the situation completely envisioned in his mind: You’re sitting between his thighs, back facing his chest, and he’s tenderly holding locks of your hair in between fingers. His hands brush through the strands, meticulous and careful, weaving the portions together into several plaits, making you look like a noble Kremnoan maiden. He hasn’t yet had the courage to suggest it.

Oh, and he would probably ascend right then and there if he got you to wear the same hairstyle as him, the singular braid that rests on one of his shoulders. The two of you could match, but even the thought of that is so intimate to him that he has to actually shake his head to rid himself of the image before the blush reveals his thoughts to you.

NS-FW

˗ˏˋ ★ 10. General look: How does their sexuality manifest? What does sex mean to them? How horny are they?

Mydei’s entire form is all aggression, all muscle, all testosterone, very little chill (except for the arguably cotton-soft core). It’s not a surprise that it all carries to the sexual aspects as well. He would never admit it out loud, but for the lack of a better term, he’s an extremely horny individual. He’s all hot, all go-go-go, and on some days, his drive is through the roof.

In the first few weeks of having you around, he doesn’t even entertain the idea of touching you beyond what is strictly necessary to keep you in check and to prevent himself from going insane. However, after a while, his eyes start to wander. He’s always been aware of it, but damn, you have a very nice figure. It’s a shame that you prefer to wear loose, flowing fabrics. The dip of your waist, the curve of your chest, your thighs… He finds himself thinking of how easy exactly it would be to just pick you up, throw you to the bed and have his way with you. From your point of view, the guy is standing a few meters away from you, hands folded, back straight, and his pants straining at his crotch. You don’t know whether to laugh, scrunch your face up in disdain, or be utterly terrified at the insinuation.

He turns to the help of his own hand a lot during this period. He can’t get the image of you out of his head, and Aeons forbid, when he gets to see your bare back in the baths. He beats it to that, almost being able to recall how your skin felt under his fingers, how warm it was, how warm other areas of you would be. He sees it in his mind, how you look under him, how your face is contorts in pleasure, how your-, aaand he shoots his load in his hand.

Your presence only manages to make him twice as horny as usual. He won’t talk about it, of course he won’t, but you do see him subtly adjust his trousers every once in a while. He doesn’t have any mental restrictions about sex in normal circumstances, he occasionally even participates in raunchy talk with people like Phainon, but it has proved to be a bit more arduous to control his urges when the reason for them is sitting at a touching distance away from him.

˗ˏˋ ★ 11. Limit: How long does it take for them to have the darling? What is the first time like? Do they care about the darling’s willingness?

You have a generous grace period of around three weeks. In that time frame, he won’t touch you sexually or force you to do anything beyond hugging him, but after that, his patience begins to run thin. Why do you have to be so alluring, why are you swinging your hips like that when you walk, why do you reveal your neck to him when you adjust your hair, why must you exist? Your mere presence is driving him wild. And eventually, he knows he needs to have you beyond some surface-level touches.

It would be easier, admittedly, if you’d agree to it out of your own volition. He attempts to gain access to you in his usual ways, just taking you to the bed, maybe climbing on top of you and hovering his face just above yours. He wishes from the deepest pits of his heart that you wouldn’t refuse his advances. Nevertheless, your stance regarding the matter becomes apparent when both of your hands land on his forehead and shove him away. You’re not pleased with the situation he has put you in, clearly, and that frustrates him.

He would really like to think that he’s above taking you against your will, that he has other methods available to him, that he’ll make you like him enough, soon enough, to not have to resort to that. However, as more days go by, he realizes that you might be even more reluctant than he originally thought.

So, eventually, it’s inevitable that he reaches his limit one day. He throws your body over his shoulder with very little effort and makes his way towards the bed before dropping you down on the mattress. By this point, you’re already anticipating that something dreadful is about to happen, and you do your best to squirm away, flailing your limbs until one of his hands snatches both of your wrists in a tight grip. He restricts your movement with ease, holding your body down with strength so immense that you give up on the physical resistance almost immediately. Instead, you begin screaming, shaking your head, spitting curses at him all the while he looks down at you with blown pupils and rapid breaths.

This is the point of no return, he thinks, and this once, he can forgive himself for indulging. You’ll be better off like this, anyway. It’s only the first time that you’ll be as terrified as you are. After it’s off the list, you’ll be much more receptive — or that’s what he hopes for, at least, because right now, you’re being less than agreeable.

After his free hand yanks the top of your dress down, you realize the true weight of the situation. In response, to his dismay, you start crying. By this point, the profanities have turned into begging for him to stop whatever he’s about to do, but your frantic voice does very little to sway his will. It does manage to elicit some sympathy, actually, but it’s not in the form you would like it to be. He only pauses his actions for a moment to bring his hand to your cheek, moving your hair away from your face. And then he tells you to calm down and just stay still. And then he goes right back to what he was doing.

The fabric that shields your breasts from his view falls to the side, and he can finally lay his eyes on what he has had to imagine for the last couple of months. Your nipples are perked up from the chill, your chest is heaving up and down in the rhythm of your panicked breaths. You’re irresistible, he thinks. His fingers glide in between the two mounds, trailing down your stomach, reaching your lower abdomen where his hand rests for a moment.

The bottom of your clothing is yanked down along with your underwear. With very little warning, you have been completely bared under his ravenous stare. You air a few more pleas for him to stop, but the volume of your voice has died down to a mere whisper. You’re terrified out of your mind, but even then, he doesn’t slow down. Instead, he rids himself of his gauntlets, tossing them somewhere on the floor, and then his fingers dip in between your legs.

You don’t understand what you did wrong. You thought, when he came over to you and whisked you away to the bed, that it was just going to be one of the cuddling sessions again, but that clearly isn’t his intention this time around. To the best of your ability, amidst all of what’s going on, you try to rack your brain, to pinpoint anything specific that might have angered him. No matter how hard you ponder, you can’t think of a single thing, and with his hands invading your most sensitive parts, the ability for rational thought slips away from your grasp.

He feels around for a little. The rough tips of his fingers find your clit, they stroke around it a few times, and then they glide down to where your entrance is hidden. He spreads your folds with haste, and then, oh Aeons, his hand goes to his belt. You can only watch with a petrified expression as he pulls out a rod that’s just about the same size as your entire forearm.

His cock is massive. Massive. The sentence would be at least a little bit funny in any other context, but you don’t find the thought even the slightest bit humorous as you realize that he’s going to try to plunge that thing in you with basically zero preparation. You’re nowhere near wet enough, not aroused, you can’t even comprehend the idea of his cock fitting into your cunt.

Your breath is catching in your throat in sheer terror, all the while Mydei gives your bits a few more rubs. He wraps his fingers around his girth and positions the tip against your hole. You weep out frantic apologies, pleading for him to stop, to at least give you a bit of time to prepare, you promise that he can have you, just please, if he could just pause for a second-!

You feel him pushing into you. It’s at this moment that reality catches up to you, and you start thrashing violently, doing your absolute best to shove your knees into his chest, sink your nails into the back of his hand, and close your thighs. Shrieks erupt from your throat, sounds that you didn’t even know a human being was capable of producing. Your words blur together, and what is left of your pleading is a string of unintelligible, horrified wails. It stings, it burns, it hurts down there.

Mydei’s breaths are ragged. He’s holding his cock in one hand, trying to nudge it further inside you past the few centimetres he has successfully managed to get in, but no matter how hard he tries, the walls of your cunt are refusing to budge. That, and when he looks up at you, he comes to find that your face is distorted in genuine pain. Beads of sweat cover your forehead, your eyes are those of a wild animal’s, he can’t make sense of the words that rush out of your mouth. You look like you’re about to faint.

He pulls his cock out. You’re far too out of it to even notice: Your legs are still twitching, gaze darting aimlessly around the room, and tears are spilling past your waterline. Your bare chest heaves up and down in irregular patterns, and your hands are clammy from the cold sweat. Tiny pearls of blood have risen on his skin where your claws have torn into it. He didn’t even feel it. The image he had of you lying below him, face flushed, fingers laced with his, shatters right then and there.

He doesn’t bother pulling your clothes back on. Instead, he reaches for the discarded blanket on the side of the bed and pulls it over your quivering body. Slowly, he releases your burning wrists from his hold. You’re so delirious that you don’t even realize he has done so: Your hands remain splayed over your head as if you were still being held down.

Time sort of slows down for him. He realizes that his dick is still out. You don’t look like you’re aware of what’s happening around you anymore. For a hot second, he thinks that he might have broken you, that this is how much your poor mind could take before succumbing.

In a flash, he goes from unfiltered, unrestrained carnal impulse to silently, tenderly lying down next to you and pulling you against his broad chest. His skin still feels searing hot against your face, and only by this point do you realize that his intentions have changed. You’re having trouble making any sense of what’s going on, your throat still feels like it’s closing in on itself, your entire body is trembling like a leaf. The hysteria doesn’t entirely wear off until several hours later, and by then, he has already been asleep for a few.

It’s fair to say that your first time with him splits into two parts, so to speak. Technically, the train-won’t-fit-in-tunnel is your first dip into the water, but the real deal will come soon enough.

He comes to ponder that perhaps it’s better if he gradually warms your body up to the idea. As in, his plan is that he’s going to start fingering you consistently to stretch you out. You don’t have to take his dick and he gets to satisfy at least a part of his urges, what a deal.

He starts slow, settling you on the sheets on your back with your hands in his. Then, unlike the last time, he doesn’t tear your clothes off like a brute, and instead just either slides his fingers down your bottom or moves your underwear aside. You’re just as shaky as the previous attempt, clearly expecting for him to rip you apart for real this time, and he takes note of that.

You do end up simmering down a little after a while, though, due to how feather-soft he’s being with his caresses along your folds. He’s making an effort to actually get you going (it’s up to you whether that works or not). If anybody were to ask him, he would never confess to ever being this delicate with you since that would be admitting how much power you hold over him. Still, it’s visible how he’s marvelling at the tiny blush spreading on your features.

So, from this point forward, these instances become regular — almost daily, you could say. His cock won’t make an appearance until he has worked his way up to fitting three fingers inside your cunt at once. (Using the red crystal things as toys to reach even deeper into you? He just might).

It might very well be that you’re not particularly thrilled about his antics even now, but he does manage to make you a little more pliant with promises of more freedom. An entire day in the bathhouse (only the private sections, though obviously), how does that sound? How about he takes you on a visit to the Garden of Life? You like chimeras, don’t you? Whatever your answer is, he’ll go through with it after he has made you cream around his fingers. And no complaining no matter how long it takes for him to do so; You come to see quite early, he’s very adept at listening to your body.

Eventually, it all will build up to him getting his cock inside of you. It will start like any of the previous times (minus the first incident), but then after you come on his hand, he’s going to take his junk out. You thrash all the same as usually when you’re frightened, no surprises there. He has to use his weight to pin you down again, but he knows that it will be much smoother this time around, so tone it down, will you? And, oh, the way your face contorts when he finally pushes all the way in, the way he can see the shape of him in your lower abdomen, he could nearly bust right then and there.

It’s likely still feels a bit unpleasant to you, he imagines. He has never been skilled in the art of comforting through words, but it’s nothing that his thumb pressing circles against your clit can’t fix.

˗ˏˋ ★ 12. Preferences: What is sex with them like? What sort of stuff are they into? What kind of kinks do they have?

It’s rough, it’s heated, it’s aggressive at least 95% of the time. That’s about it, really. Or, very rarely, especially if you’ve been looking particularly frail to him that day, he might get a bit more gentle. In normal circumstances, however, it’s best to be prepared to be sore the next morning.

Period sex

The son of Gorgo will be crowned in (period) blood.

Mydei is a warrior through and through. The fascination with grotesque things comes with that, you think. Of course he knows that you have periods, you’re a woman, he’s not stupid or uneducated, but when the time of the month comes rolling around, he realizes that huh, maybe there might be another aspect to it.

It’s not ideal if you’re in pain, more irritable, nauseous, all that stuff, but he can’t help but be drawn to you for no other reason than the fact that he knows there’s blood dripping down there. It awakens some dark instinct inside of him. Blood, to him, is a reminder of battle, of war, and that translates quite well to his behaviour. He goes feral, pretty much, it’s like his heat or something. It makes you reconsider the meaning of the word ”bloodlust”.

He sits you in his lap and props his legs over your thighs, preventing you from closing them. You’re complaining that ”no, what the hell, I won’t be having sex with you while I’m on my period”, but that does little to waver his will. He might huff a word or two in your ear, telling you to stay still, whatever. He knows you might be having cramps and all that. Won’t an orgasm or two make the muscles down there relax, too? You’re just resisting for the sake of it again. Shut it already, will you?

He sinks his fingers inside you. He doesn’t even need to worry about the friction this time because the blood is making your insides slick. It’s easy to prod them around, slide them in and out, spread the red around your bits. Your face is just about the same colour as your downstairs at this point, and he has to wrap an arm around your upper body to prevent you from trying to claw at his hand. You’re doing your best to struggle again, but when he doubles his efforts at thrusting his fingers right into your sweet spot, you need to reconsider your priorities.

Mydei gets immense pleasure from watching you come undone in a matter of minutes. Your cunt constricts wildly around him, and he lets you ride down the high as blood gushes out of your hole. However, when his fingers finally pull out, he brings them to his face and simply observes, marveling at the way your essence coats them all the way down to his palm. You feel his dick twitch against your lower back.

He will absolutely fuck you in this state, too. The blood works as lube, and he doesn’t mind getting dirty — he enjoys it vastly, actually. It’s a bit more painful these times since your regions are aching more than usual, but he knows how to make it good for you. He makes sure to stroke your breasts, your nipples, trail his hands (or hand, one has to keep you from escaping) down your sides, and press where you’re the most sensitive. It does, to your dismay, dull the cramps to some extent.

Eating you out is on the table, too. He would very much enjoy it, even initiates it a few times, but for some reason, you’re exceptionally reluctant towards the idea. He will refrain from doing it for now if it’s that big of a deal to you, but it won’t hold him back forever, just so you know.

Predator/prey

You know what really gets him going? Physical exercise, running, fighting, the thrill of battle and chase. All of those have his blood rushing in the most exhilarating of ways, which he quite enjoys, putting it very lightly. Naturally, his desire for that kind of excitement heavily intertwines with his sexual cravings.

So, it’s not even that far into your imprisonment when he takes you outside one time. You think it’s gonna be one of his ”trials”, that he’s going to make you do some parkour again or something since he leads you to the middle point of the castle, the Kremnos Arena. But then, he tells you that you have exactly ten minutes to run and find yourself a hiding place. You’re, of course, incredibly confused at the declaration, but it all comes clear to you when your gaze wanders a little further down from his eyes. Yep, there it is — the tent.

You did wonder why the noise from outside was so excessive this evening. There don’t seem to be too many monsters roaming around tonight, and you quickly put two and two together that he must have been planning this all day. You’re about to let him know your opinion on the matter, but as soon as your eyes return to his, you come to find just how excited he is about this. He’s staring you down just like a predator would a prey.

And so, you take off running. As fast as your legs allow you to, you sprint in the only direction viable: the bridge that leads away from the arena and deep into the city ruins. You’re not exactly sure where you’re going, you’re not familiar with the layout of the place since nobody in their right mind would take foot in the decayed castle.

You’re scared out of your mind, but if there’s one positive thing to be found in the situation, it’s the fact that, unlike usual, there’s not a single titankin in sight. He has got rid of them all, all for this. Following that train of thought, your skin crawls at the idea that soon enough, there will be something much scarier than Nikador’s shadows hunting you down.

Ten minutes is either a very short or a very long time, depending on the circumstances. You come to find that, in this moment, it’s both. The time given to you was barely enough to find yourself a suitable crack to hide in. It’s in between some rubble, just small enough for you to fit into, but at the same time, you grow agitated at how slow each second passes. You can hear your own, rapid heartbeat in your ears, your hands are trembling from the adrenaline, and no matter how deeply you breathe, you feel like you’re not getting enough oxygen in your burning lungs.

And then you start hearing the noise.

He’s throwing stuff around. Most likely boulders at least ten times as heavy as you. And with every passing moment, the sound grows closer. You wonder if it would be easier for you to stand in the middle of the floor and give yourself up to him, and maybe he would have mercy on your poor body.

But you don’t get much time to ponder that thought. The piece of wreckage that shielded you a split second ago is thrown into the opposing wall with so much force that you’re sure the whole place is going to collapse. You let out a screech, cover your ears and make yourself as small as possible as more debris starts flying around you. You’re only granted half a minute at most to prepare yourself as Mydei wrecks the pile of rubble to his heart’s content. After that, as the dust settles down, you’re pulled out from what’s left of your spot.

You can beg and plead as much as you want to, nothing is going to extinguish the sheer fervour he has gathered. He yanks you to him by your ankle, caring very little of how your head nearly lands on the marble, only releasing his hold in order to climb over your form. Wild would be the only correct word to describe how he looks: His eyes are wide, nostrils flared, and there’s a wicked grin on his chiselled face.

It’s only downhill from there. You’re not nearly wet enough, he finds, but even that does very little to slow him down. He barely remembers to rid himself of the sharp gauntlets before plunging his fingers inside of you. You’re sure, with how fast he’s going, that you will be bleeding by the end of this — and that would only make him go harder, you realize. It’s a terrible fate.

Ultimately, though, his goal is to make you come, even in all of his ardour. It’s not on his hands, no, but he makes sure to snake his arm underneath you and rub at your pearl when he hammers into you from behind. Your knees ache from grinding against the rough ground, same with your elbows, but it is, admittedly, difficult to think of anything else but the way his cock is rubbing all the spots inside of you, even those you didn’t know were there. All the while Mydei basically drools on top of you, chest against your back, hissing like an animal.

Oh, and if you want a really easy way out of the predicament — the only thing you need to do, when he tells you to run, is to plop down on the ground and look as pathetic as humanly possible. Bonus points if you start sobbing. It makes the caring side of him take over again; there’s no point in trying to make you escape if you’re already in this sorry of a state. It usually makes him reconsider at least, and at best, he might give up the game entirely. He’ll just huff in annoyance, disappointment maybe, gather you in his arms and go back inside. Easy as pie.

Size and strength kink

Mydei is a man of the size of a boulder, and he knows that. He can pick you up with one hand, throw you over his shoulder, carry you around like you were made of feathers. If he wanted to, he could hurl you right into the wall and leave nothing but a red splatter on the concrete in his wake. And he sort of… likes that idea. Not painting the rooms with you but the fact that he is strong enough to (hypothetically) do so. He likes how small and fragile you are compared to him.

This manifests in the sex, of course it does. He manhandles you, pushing you in all kinds of positions, against the wall, up in the air, under him with all your limbs pinned down so you can barely move… The possibilities are endless. No matter how you struggle, you can never outdo him in this aspect. And it turns him the fuck on. It has him grinning like a maniac when you use all of your strength to try and pry his fingers off of your wrists, but even with both of your hands, you can’t make him so much as budge.

If need be, he also knows how to intimidate you with his size. Maybe you’re being uncooperative, throwing insults at him, cursing him out, but it has you going quiet really fast when he takes a few steps closer to you, making you painfully aware of his size as he looks down at you. Going just by his expression, you can practically hear him go ”what was that?”, and you back down. It’s so pathetically easy that it almost amuses him. It won’t be long after that when he flings you to the bed and gives you a proper reason to yell.

And finally, his dick. His pussy destroyer 2000. It’s no joke. He knows it’s big — he’s moderately proud of it, too — but you don’t think he understands just how big it is. It’s always a stretch, no matter how many times he has breached the walls of your cunt. On the best days it’s uncomfortable, on the worst it’s, well, unbearable. Mydei has learned over time that prepping you is really important if his intention isn’t teaching you a lesson.

Even then, he never gets his dick inside all the way. A part of it is always left outside as your insides can only take so much. You feel him in your stomach, you’re sure. And, judging from the way he presses his hand against your lower abdomen with a hungry expression, you think he just might actually be.

Bath sex

The most predictable one of the things he fancies, perhaps. He likes soaking in the bath, and he likes you, so what’s stopping him from combining the two?

It’s more like sex by the bath most of the time, though. He tried it in the water once, trying to sink you down on his cock, but whatever lubrication he could coax out of you was washed away. Ramming inside you is nearly impossible that way, of course, so his usual go-to would be just fingering you instead. You respond better to that, anyway. Still, when he has the chance, he might lift you on the edge of the pool and give you a thorough fucking. You’ve tried to tell him to reconsider, that there may be people around, but he couldn’t give two shits about getting caught, really. Any normal person would be too scared to do anything about the Mydeimos having sex in a public area, anyway.

A new bottle appears among the ointments and lotions he usually has with him while washing, you notice. You won’t have to wonder about it for too long, though, because when he pours a generous amount of the clear substance onto his palm, his hand goes straight to your cunt under the surface. You yelp, your voice bouncing off the tiled walls, but he simply adjusts his hold on you and dips his fingers in. The next thing you know is that his dick is nudging at your entrance.

There is a softer aspect to the bathing, too, as mentioned earlier. It just kind of includes taking care of you in this manner, too. He washes your hair with care, lathers your skin in nice-smelling products, and he might even massage your back if you’re not in a hurry, but it’s almost always at the cost of an orgasm or few.

˗ˏˋ ★ 13. Punishment: What do their sexual punishments look like? What methods do they prefer?

Mydei doesn’t use sex as a means to punish, necessarily, but damn, it does feel like that sometimes. It’s not methodical in any way, it’s not calculated, there’s no coherent cause-and-effect line of thought there. It’s very in-the-moment and unpredictable, and that’s what makes it the worst.

If you push his buttons long enough, if you irk him (especially on purpose), if you try to do rash things, he will fuck you stupid. You can tell it from his face when you’re about to face a multiple hour long session of marathon sex from him. When you get the look from him, a string of apologies is already spilling from your mouth, and you’re slowly backing away from him, but there’s no getting out of it. And soon you’re in the searing hot embrace of the sheets again.

If you value your peace, it would be best to avoid these situations. They typically leave you sore and sometimes even bleeding; he doesn’t prep you properly in all of his irritation and anger, maybe strokes you down there for a bit at most before ramming his cock in. Unlike in all other circumstances, his priority isn’t to make you come. The point is to send a message, and his method is very effective in that sense.

He will bite you, he will dig his nails into your skin, he might even spank you. He will grab your jaw with so much force that you fear he’s going to break it if he uses any more strength, he will slide his tongue down your throat until you’re sure you’ll pass out, and when he does pull away, he’ll hiss and growl mean words directly into your ear. You are going to end up crying or he didn't do his job properly.

You’re really acquiescent afterwards, he comes to see. You lie nice and still in his arms, you fall asleep quickly. There are bruises forming on your wrists, your hips, your thighs. Your neck, shoulders and back are full of bite marks and hickeys, some having drawn blood, some surface-level. Dried streaks of tears adorn your flushed cheeks. It must have been quite intense for you, he wonders, but all in all, the result justifies the means.

Rarely, he might make you choke on his dick instead of fucking you. It’s the less strenuous of the two options, and he only allows it if whatever you did is on the fence of truly having ticked him off. The act is like dismantling a bomb, if you will. He sits down on the edge of the bed, the couch, his throne, even, and you get down on your knees and start sucking. He doesn’t actually fuck your face, partially because his cock doesn’t fit too far in (you start gagging) and partially because it wouldn’t really be you showing him remorse like that, you know? He makes you work for his forgiveness, stroking your hair while gazing down at you with your mouth full off his dick. You always find it to be terribly humiliating, your cheeks are warm, your eyes convey nothing but exasperation, but the only way to get yourself out of it is to get him to finish. And Mydei has been blessed with a generous amount of stamina, you come to find.

He also uses sex as a sort of an emotional release, not only for him but also for you. If you’re being mad, spouting slander and complaints at him, trying to throw hands, his solution is fucking you into the mattress. It’s relieving for him, and it seems to be that way to you as well. All of your pent-up anger and malice mysteriously disappears after coming a few times, and you end up being far too tired to do anything afterwards. You hate how effective it is, really.

˗ˏˋ ★ 14. Aftermath: What does their aftercare look like? Is there any?

It comes with his gentle side; he’s very particular about taking care of you afterwards. He knows that he tends to take you to your limits, even past them, so giving you adequate aftercare doesn’t only show you his love but makes sure that you’ll be ready for more in the few hours that it takes for him to charge back up.

His usual pattern is coming down from the high, just being still for a minute or two, letting his heart rate settle, and then he starts taking care of you. He’ll cradle you against his sweaty body for a moment (if you allow it, otherwise he goes straight to holding you until you inevitably fall asleep), feeling the way you pant against his chest in your afterglow. After that, he’ll sit up and check you for any actual injuries he might have caused you. Depending on what your mental state is at this point, he will either try to comfort you with his usual methods or go fetch a wet rag.

Mydei will lowkey be genuinely offended if you refuse his aftercare or show distaste towards him during it, which you often do, at least in the earlier days of your captivity. What more do you want, he made you come a good few times, he wasn’t even that rough this time around, and now he’s trying to cuddle you. What is there not to like?

He will take you in his arms, though, nonetheless. Roll you up into a blanket burrito (you’re going to boil alive) and squeeze you against his chest, his chin on the crown of your head.

˗ˏˋ ★ 15. Further notes: Is there anything that sets them apart from the other yanderes sex-wise? Are there any unique aspects to them?

Mydei will actually, genuinely lose his shit if he ever catches you jacking off. What do you mean, what the hell are you doing, you have a whole-ass him right there, and you thought that ”hmm, I think I’ll use my own hand instead”. That’s what it looks like to him, anyway. It’s somewhat of a blow to his ego, too. Are you trying to tell him that he doesn’t satisfy you? Is that what this is about?

Good luck if he ever catches you with your fingers between your legs. You know just by looking at his face that he’s not particularly pleased with the situation he has found you in.

You’re in the middle of opening your mouth, but he’s on top of you quicker than you can get a single word out. His brows are knitted together, he clicks his tongue in something akin to distaste, you’re not really sure. Then, without a warning, he grabs the backs of your thighs and folds you clean in half. A strained sound slips out of your throat as your knees hit your shoulders, but there’s not much you can do when he inhales a big gulp of air before diving right into your cunt.

You can tug on his hair all you want, you can tear out entire strands for all he cares, but his mouth is not going to come off your pussy until you’re a trembling, flushed mess. And only he will decide when that point is. Be prepared for a whole lot of overstimulation.

On a different note, a strange thing about his whims is that he only seems to kiss you in his most tender and most brutal moments, no in between. In the former, he’s being very gentle, very careful, very mindful of how it feels to you. In the latter, you’ll barely be able to get a breath in. It’s teeth clacking together, it’s biting your lower lip, it’s shoving his tongue so deep down your throat that it feels like he’s trying to swallow you alive.

That, and one more thing. He would really like to stick it in your ass. But he can’t.

The only thing that keeps him from doing it is the fundamental issue that comes with his size. Don’t get him wrong, he isn’t opposed to causing you some pain, he even enjoys it to some degree, but trying to shove it in your butt would cause actual damage. And he would rather avoid the situation of having to bring you to Hyacine and tell her what has occurred. He has entertained the idea, thought about stretching you out like he did with your cunt, building up to the size of his cock, and then, maybe, it could work. He hasn’t yet tried.

He sometimes sticks a finger up there during sex. It makes you whine quite loudly, and you’re obviously not a very big fan of when he does it. However, he can tell that you come a little bit faster that way. It makes him think.

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alfascorpiionux · 4 months ago

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Astro notes ~ part 4

Water moons (especially Pisces, Cancer) struggle with time management skills.

Earth Moons + Air Moons are usually on time for appointments.

Sag Moons are reliable people and you can trust them to tell the truth even when it’s difficult.

Aries Venus’ love is fierce and protective. They would do everything even the impossible for their loved ones.

Taurus Venus is a provider. The sort of person that buys plenty of stuff for their loved ones, sometimes unnecessary ones. If they are a parent, their children will not lack material things.

Saturn square Venus: is very serious and dedicated in love. Definitely not the type of person who enjoys having flings. They are in for the long run.

Venus in 10th house: might place career over love. Their love life is likely public or just many people know about it. The person might fall in love with a coworker/boss/assistant.

Many personal planets in 11th house (especially Sun/Moon): friends and community play an important role in this person’s life. Like for example if they encounter a difficulty or get sick it’s gonna be their friends or close circle that will offer them the most help. Maybe even more than their blood-related kin/family.

Moreover, it is surrounded by a group of people they trust that they feel the most comfortable and like themselves. This group could be friends, coworkers or even new acquaintances.

Having friends could be vital for these natives’ well-being! If they are socially isolated or they have a controlling partner that doesn’t allow them to meet other people often enough, they might get depressed or even sick.

Many placements in 12th house: the opposite is true and having alone time become quintessential. It is this way that they recharge and find answers to their deepest and most sought-after questions. Another interesting thing I’ve noticed is that they feel very fulfilled if they do something nice for someone. Even a small gesture like opening a door for a stranger. They are sensitive and artistic people that strive for balance, peace and kindness in their everyday life.

Taurus people take your secret to the grave.

On the other hand, Gemini/Libra may “accidentally” tell it to the first person they meet.

Cancer Suns make great mothers and can be incredibly sweet, dedicated and sacrifice a lot for their loved ones.

Sagittarius, Gemini people are great to have at parties. They bring humor, light-heartedness and lots of fun even to the most boring get-togethers.

Gemini Moon+Scorpio Sun: the beastly teacher that expects you to know their subject to absolute perfection and doesn’t forgive tardiness. Hard exams.

Aquarius people could be quite perfectionistic and big nerds.

A love relationship between two Pisces is extremely powerful. Like you can see it’s karmic, destined to be. It could bring incredible love, of the kind you’d never experience with anybody else, but also great hardships and suffering.

Cancer Suns could have a complicated relationship with water. They might fear or dislike being inside or near bigger bodies of water.

Air signs in the big 3: native has the potential to give very engaging and interesting presentations. Like they know what to say and what gestures to use not to bore people and make them focus.

Moon/Venus in 7th house: need a partner to feel good and complete. It is with a lover that they can function best.

Air Sun+Water Moon: pretty volatile, chaotic people or just unstable/inconstant overall.

Capricorn Sun with Aqua Moon is the strange, cold one. You’d like to get to know them but it’s not easy. Probably a pretty distant person who is not very emotionally expressive. Could be a nerd or just do very well in studies. Interest in technology/computers is likely.

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hellotailor · 1 year ago

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louis' final three costumes in S2 are so, so cleverly chosen. after the curated blandness of his interview wardrobe in dubai, this is our first glimpse of his personal taste in the present day. each outfit is full of meaning.

in the first half of S2, louis and armand’s coordinated interview outfits seemed like part of their performance as a happy couple. by the end, they have a more sinister subtext. louis has gone from having stylish, flashy fashion sense to wearing uniformly expressionless black and grey:

dubai-era louis exclusively wears the colors of depression and mourning, in a style stripped of personal expression, physically and spiritually separated from the outside world. i’ll write a separate post about armand’s costumes later, but you could interpret this as louis' taste being subsumed by armand’s nebulous 500-year-old absence of identity. at the very least, louis is blending into the chic minimalism of the apartment, presenting himself as part of the household unit.

with that in mind, his final three outfits signal a seismic change after leaving armand. his NOLA tour costume reflects the philosophy behind his 1940s wardrobe (ie. selected to blend into a human crowd) but he's also reconnecting with his home, wearing a New Orleans Saints hat with (in a potential piece of double symbolism!) a fleur-de-lis logo.

then we have the loustat reunion outfit, which is more enigmatic. he’s going for subdued colors (although not pure black and grey), with a silhouette echoing his mid-20th century wardrobe: high-waisted, wide-legged trousers and a bomber jacket - a cut he wears pretty often. IMO the reunion’s overall color palette is a major factor here, with lestat and louis' costumes and surroundings sharing a spectrum of dark brown, sepia and muted gold.

finally there's the last scene in dubai, arguably the most “pure” expression of louis' taste because he’s not wearing this outfit for an audience. coordinating with the apartment’s colorful makeover, he’s wearing a multicolored cardigan with yellow highlights, matching claudia’s dress, the yellow couches, and the gold background of his new painting. (i’ve identified this as a YMC cardigan retailing at £250; a mid-range english brand.)

this piece (paired with navy blue pants with a yellow stripe) is modern and distinctive; basically the opposite of his interview costumes, which displayed very little in the way of personality or cultural markers. you immediately understand that louis is expressing himself through fashion again, now in a more casual streetwear context than the tailored and accessorized suits of his youth.

#louis de pointe du lac #interview with the vampire #iwtv #costume design #armand #iwtv costume design

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ettawrites · 6 months ago

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Naruto Boys genin discovering that reader is a girl?

Did this take me an insane amount of time to finally write? Yes. Have I been depressed and high? Also yes. Anyways!! Sorry I’ve been dead for 2 months, I’m back 😊 enjoy!

Genin Naruto Boys Discorving You’re a Girl

Includes: Naruto, Sasuke, Shikamaru, Neji, and Rock Lee

Warning: some shadowing of misogyny/bad writing

Context: You are from a different village and are attending the chunin exam, you never disclosed your gender cause it wasn’t a huge deal to you, but pre puberty you were mistaken for a boy.

Naruto:

- he only found out cause you got kicked out of your motel room cause you had an arguement with the person who runs it

- You had befriended him when you first arrived and became friends as you thought he was funny (and kinda lonely.. and he followed you around and you felt bad)

- You had asked to stay at his apartment for just a couple days cause you were also mad at your teammates and sensei

- He had started to change in front of you and you shrieked for him to go to the bathroom

- He was dumbfounded, as it was normal for him to change in front of his guy friends

- When you started spewing out how it was inappropriate to change in front of the opposite gender his face was like a big “HUH”

- “But you’re a guy???”

- “No I’m not!”

- “Yes you are!”

- “I think I would know Naruto”

- His face is flushed and all he can do is let out a small “oh..”

- it was awkward for a couple minutes as he goes to the bathroom to change and when he comes back out he sits across from you on the floor

- As Naruto was as a genin, he was a bit insensitive and so so curious, he asked you a billion questions

- He didn’t really care that much, he still considered you a good friend and honestly was kinda happy you were a girl

- Admires you a whole bunch, considering how strong you were and that you were a girl and a girl and.. wow a girl, you’re a girl?

- Might develope a small (huge, majorly huge) crush on you

Sasuke

- hated that he admired you, you had saved him during the Forest portion of the Chunin exam

- You guys became somewhat friends outside the exam, and by friends I mean he had showed up where you were and kind of just lingered around like a creep

- Soon the lingering turned into small chit chat and then sparing with each other

- He had only found out you were a girl when he over heard your teammates talking about you

- He kept this information to himself, a bit astonished as he had just assumed you were a guy

- “So.. are you a girl?” He had asked mid spare, catching you off guard for a second

- “Yup”

- “Cool”

- And that’s how it went on the outside

- On the inside.. sasuke didn’t know how to feel, he was use to the girls in the village drooling all over him and here you were just his… friend? No weird intentions attached?

- It never was brought up again and Sasuke tried not to treat you lesser as he knew you could handle yourself

- But he did every so often stare intently at you, trying to find the “girl features”.

Shikamaru

- This know it all.. did not know

- Your dad was friends with his dad and you were staying with them for the duration of the chunin exam

- You and shikamaru haven’t met prior to this, via him not knowing your gender

- Obviously you guys become friends, as it was natural since he sees you everyday plus you were pretty funny

- You guys were walking around the village and you had asked to stop so you could use the bathroom

- When you started to walk into the women’s, he was shocked and grabbed at your arm to draw you back

- “That’s the girls?”

- “Yeah….?”

- He kinda just looked at you, taking in your confused expression and he let go of your arm and nodded

- “Oh..Kay..”

- when you came back out, you guys started walking again but you had realized the silence was much more awkward than it usually is

- “So… I’m a girl,” you explained, hands shoved in your pockets as you stared ahead

- He nodded, a bit upset with himself for never clueing in that you weren’t a boy

- How didn’t he know? He talked and saw you ever single day since you first arrived, he should’ve been the first to clue in

- “You don’t act like a girl, no offence,”

- “Sorry… I guess?”

- You guys just go back to your daily chit chat

- He will most definitely stay up late at night obsessing over how he didn’t know

- And also most definitely be intrigued and grow a teeny tiny crush on you…?

- Never brings it up though

Neji

- He had actually befriended your teammate first, your team and his team formed an alliance during the forest exam

- The boy genins were all planning on going to the offsprings and when he asked your teammates to tell you they brushed it off and said you won’t be going

- He got upset cause he thought they always threw you aside most of the time

- He had came up to you after your training session with your sensei and started talking about the offspring’s

- “Why are you… inviting me?”

- “Cause.. all the boys are going?”

- “I’m not a boy”

- All too formal Neji had his jaw to the floor

- He now realized why your teammates looked at him weird when he asked if you’d be coming to the offspring’s with them

- “Oh..that’s unfortunate..” he replied, stunned and embarrassed

- You kinda just gave him a weird look “me being a girl is unfortunate?”

- Cue Neji feeling overwhelmed and stupid and he’s just sputtering out non sense and just leaves

- He avoids you for a couple days

- Comes up to you and formally apologies

- both of you start to hang out and develop a friendship and every so often you tease him about mistakenig you for a boy

Rock Lee

- You had asked him to train you as you wanted to advance in Taijutsu (pretend he only got fucked up a lil during his fight with Gaara)

- The month leading up to the finals, you guys actually got along nicely

- You considered him one of your really good friends

- After a training session, you both went out to get some ice cream and were sitting on a bench just talking about random things

- Rock Lee started talking about Sakura and his big crush on her and asked if you liked anyone

- You had said you kinda found this boy intriguing

- He, completely innocent was like “okay! I didn’t know you swung that way,”

- “Wait what?”

- “Well you like the same gender…? it’s totally okay,”

- “I’m a girl,”

- Rock Lee just gave a awkward big smile as he looked at you and blinked

- “Wow!” He finally says after a couple minutes

- He goes back to eating his ice cream

- Is pretty much the chilliest out of the whole genin, he’s honestly good vibes all around

#naruto x reader #naruto #naruto uzumaki #shikamaru x reader #naruto headcanons #shikamaru nara #rock lee x reader #rock lee #neji hyuga x reader #neji x reader #neji hyuga #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #sasuke headcanons

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joemama-2 · 2 months ago

Text

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 & 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚

・❥・ pairing: veteran! levi x fem reader

╰┈➤ synopsis: known as ‘marley’s darling’, your father, a high-ranking marleyan diplomat, introduced you as his pride and joy since you were out the womb. dazzling smiles, coy and subtly flirtatious remarks, an innocent but seductive allure that keeps you in the eyes of the public. with concerns for your safety, your father hires levi ackerman as your personal bodyguard, a war hero to some, a warm criminal to others. the same man who fought against your people.

・❥・ wc: 9k

・❥・ tags/warnings: age gap, levi is in his late thirties, reader is 26, angst, fluff, smut, alcohol, drugs, war veteran! levi, reader takes inspo from marilyn monroe, mentions of ptsd, depression, death, post! war, prejudice, guns, knives, violence, reader is marleyan, slow burn, sorta opposites attract?, dark themes, cussing, gross men, no titans! modern au, may have some canon divergent elements (e.g. levi has both legs still lol)

・❥・ series masterlist < next chapter

The sound of gravel cracks underneath Levi’s shoes, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. It’s a sunny day in Eldia, he’s almost begun to miss this place. It’s much more different than Marley, not that he’s complaining. He’s only been here for three days, yesterday was his last. For some reason, he’s dreading the plane back. A sigh escapes his lips, shaking his head at the melancholic intrusions. He stops in his tracks when he hears a tiny hurdle of giggles and whispers. Looking over his shoulder is a small group of children around the age of five or six, looking up at him with wide, starry eyes. He can see the way their gaze flickers across his features, going from the long scar across his face to the ghostly, white eyeball of his. Some hold their smiles back, while others gasp in child-like delight.

He turns to face them fully, crouching down to the children’s height.

��H-Hi…” a timid girl greets. “Are you—”

“You’re Mr. Levi!” a much more brave young boy blurts out, his toothy grin widening. “You look cooler than the books!”

Levi’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles at the boy’s enthusiasm, his usual stoic expression faltering for a moment. He straightens up, towering over them once again, though his gaze softens as he studies the children.

"Mr. Levi, right?" the timid girl asks again, her voice barely a whisper.

Levi’s heart skips a beat, a strange, unfamiliar warmth flooding him as he nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The children seem to surge forward as if they’ve all had the same unspoken idea, their eyes practically glowing with excitement. The boy in front pulls out a little notebook and a small pen from his pocket. “Can you sign it? Can you sign it for us?!” His voice is filled with such an innocent eagerness that for a moment, Levi just stares at the child, a little taken aback.

“You want my autograph?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s not sure what to make of this situation.

The children nod eagerly, the timid girl now clutching a scrap of paper between her tiny hands. Levi takes the paper from her, glancing over it for a brief moment before scribbling his name, his signature jagged and rough, just like everything else about him. “Here,” he hands it back to her, the girl’s eyes lighting up like she’s just been handed the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you, Mr. Levi!” she squeaks, bouncing on her heels. “You're our hero!”

Levi straightens up again, his hand returning to his coat pocket as he glances over the group. They stare at him for a while, their eyes filled with admiration, something he hasn't seen in a long time. But it’s not the kind of admiration he’s used to—it's pure, innocent, almost reverent. He can feel the weight of their gaze, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother him. “Well, I’m not really a hero,” Levi mutters, running a hand through his hair. “But thanks.” He turns his gaze away from them, feeling that odd discomfort creeping in. “You kids should get back to playing, yeah?”

The children nod excitedly, and as the last few gremlins get their signature, they scurry away.

He shakes his head in a slight fondness, turning back around to continue his trek back to the private plane waiting for him. Seems being a veteran has pretty good perks, if he does say so himself. The hangar isn’t too far away, luckily. He’s already had his morning cup of tea from the shop he used to always frequent before moving, same owners, same tacky furniture—nothing could get better than that.

He can see a few men in the distance, seemingly getting his plane ready.

Levi continues to walk toward the hangar, his mind begins to wander. The children’s bright smiles and excited whispers echo in his head, their innocent admiration stirring something within him. He hadn’t been called a hero in years. Most people only saw the scarred, battle-worn soldier who had fought for survival. The idea of being a symbol of hope to anyone was something he'd long abandoned. But there they were—those little faces full of wonder, looking at him like he was more than just a man who’d lived through hell. His lips press into a thin line as he shakes his head. Maybe it was just the way they were raised, seeing heroes in simple things, not yet tainted by the harshness of reality.

As he gets closer to the plane, one of the men spots him and waves. “Mr. Ackerman!” the man calls out. “Everything’s ready for your departure. We’ve got a clear flight ahead.”

Levi nods, not in the mood for small talk but acknowledging the man’s efforts. He’s almost there—almost back to the place he’s tried to forget sometimes. Marley. He tenses at the thought. There’s nothing left for him here in Eldia—not really. The place is a relic of the past, and he's nothing more than a passing memory of a world that no longer exists. Besides, he has two other little rascals waiting for him back in Marley.

He stops just short of the plane, eyes narrowing as the men finish their preparations. The sound of metal clanging and the hum of engines fill the air, but his thoughts are elsewhere. It feels like a strange kind of irony, returning to Marley, where the tension between Eldia and Marley still simmers just beneath the surface, a conflict that’s far from over. But it’s not his fight anymore. Of course, things probably will never be the same, considering just how many lives were taken in the war. A war spanning over nine years that only ended five years ago.

As the men begin to board the plane, Levi lingers, staring out at the horizon. He can almost see the faint outline of the place he left behind. His throat tightens. He’d been a different man then, a soldier with a cause. Now, he was just trying to survive, trying to forget. Humanity’s strongest.

He pushes the thoughts aside, stepping onto the plane as the door closes behind him. The world outside becomes a blur as the engines roar to life. His seat is cold and uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care about comfort. He’d long ago learned how to endure, how to keep moving forward. He settles back in the comfy chair the plane has to offer, opening the glass of whiskey that’s already been placed out on the table for him.

Giving himself a pour, he brings the rim to his lips and sips. A small hum of satisfaction sounds from him.

“Drinkin’ already?”

Levi stiffens, lips contorting into a hard-set frown. Kenny, uncaring of his niece’s animosity towards him, sits leisurely across from him. He takes his hat off and leans back with a relaxed sigh, lifting his legs onto the table between them and crossing his arms over his chest. “The hell are you doing here?”

Kenny scoffs. “Spending time with you, obviously.”

“I’d rather eat shit than be in your presence,” Levi gruffs back, eyes narrowing at his uncle. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a solo trip.”

“Was,” Kenny corrects. “Besides, got some business on the other side. Figured I’d hop a ride with you.”

Levi’s fingers tighten around his glass, the amber liquid swirling inside as his gaze locks onto Kenny, who seems entirely unfazed by the hostility radiating off Levi. The man across from him is annoyingly at ease, as always. A smirk dances across his uncle’s lips, a little too self-assured for Levi’s liking.

“Business?” Levi repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. “What kind of business? Last I checked, you didn’t exactly have a legitimate operation.”

Kenny’s eyes twinkle as if he’s relishing in the tension between them. He leans forward, and the casualness of the movement only serves to irritate Levi more. “You’re not the only one who can make deals, kid,” he drawls, the condescending tone sharp enough to cut through the stale air between them. “We’ve got some... mutual interests. Thought I’d tag along, see if you might actually get your hands dirty for once.”

Levi scowls but doesn’t respond immediately. He takes another sip of his drink, trying to swallow down the wave of frustration building in his chest. The last thing he wants is to be involved in any scheme that Kenny’s tangled up in. But, as always, Kenny knows exactly how to push his buttons, and Levi knew better than to think he’d be able to escape this.

“Not interested,” Levi mutters, leaning back in his seat, eyes flicking toward the window, though his mind is far from the view outside. “I’m not here for a job, nothing else. Keep your shady dealings to yourself.”

Kenny chuckles, the sound a low rumble that seems to settle uneasily in Levi’s stomach. “Right, forgot you’re Mr. High ‘n Mighty now. Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“You’re a fool. An old fool.” He scoots the whiskey bottle closer when he sees Kenny reaching for it.

“Oh, give me a break,” Kenny rolls his eyes, reaching forward and taking the bottle from his niece’s grip. He uncaps it and nonchalantly sips straight from the bottle. Levi doesn’t bother holding back the disgusted noise that leaves his throat, but says nothing and focuses his attention on the window as the plane begins to take off.

For a second, there’s silence.

Until Kenny opens his big mouth again.

“So…really not interested, huh?”

“No.”

“How come? Ain’t that compensated money the government lends ‘ya not that much? How the hell you even survivin’?”

Levi’s gaze sharpens at Kenny’s words, his grip tightening on the armrest. He didn’t need to explain himself, especially not to someone like Kenny. The audacity of the man still gets under his skin, even after all these years. But Levi knows better than to take the bait. “I'm surviving fine,” Levi mutters, his voice cold and clipped. He turns his head slightly, eyeing his uncle with a glare that would freeze most men in place, but Kenny only grins wider, clearly enjoying the discomfort Levi tries so hard to hide. “I have my shop, I don’t want blood money.”

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I mean, the way I see it, you ain’t exactly living large," Kenny says, tapping the neck of the bottle against his leg like a rhythm he’s got memorized. "Could use a little extra padding, if you catch my drift."

Levi huffs under his breath, a dry laugh escaping him. "I'm fine," he repeats, louder this time, not bothering to explain any further. The question, though, lingers in the back of his mind: how much longer can he keep doing this? How much longer can he stay out of the kind of deals Kenny’s offering?

Kenny’s eyes narrow, sizing him up, and for a moment, Levi feels the weight of his uncle’s scrutiny. The man knows Levi better than he lets on—knows his breaking points, knows what makes him tick. And that only makes Levi more defensive. The older man lets up a bit, sighing to himself and grumbling something Levi can’t quite make out. He removes his legs from the table, facing Levi head-on. “Listen, it’s not…that bloody, alright?”

“Sure,” Levi simply says, checking his watch. Two more hours to go. Dammit.

“It ain’t,” Kenny reaffirms, scooting toward the edge of his seat. He subtly looks around, as if afraid the small crew of the plane might be listening. “Just a tiny gig. Could help you out.”

“How many more times do I have to tell you no, old man?”

“As if you’re not gettin’ there your damn self, you little brat,” Kenny spits out. He huffs, taking out a crumpled-up sheet of newspaper from his back pocket and flattening it out onto the table.

Levi peers down, face indifferent. A few moments of silence pass with Levi expecting some sort of explanation. When none comes, he unfortunately takes the bait. “What?”

“See here,” Kenny taps a long finger onto the paper. “A…client of mine, you could say. Mr. Makoto Suzuki. Topshot back over there, heard of ‘im?”

Levi’s eyes flicker down to the paper, his stomach sinking at the mention of the name. He doesn’t want to show any sign of recognition, but he can feel the subtle tension rising in his chest. Makoto Suzuki. The name isn’t foreign to him, but it’s a name that brings too many memories—too many connections to things he’s tried to forget. Levi’s lips tighten into a thin line, but he says nothing, his gaze flickering back to the newspaper. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Levi mutters. He’s been around long enough to know that the big players in the game—men like Makoto—always find their way into the darker corners of the world. “Anyone with a brain has.”

“Correct,” Kenny grins, his gold canine on display. “Well, Mr. Suzuki here has a very special package he holds oh so dear to his heart.” Kenny’s finger moves slightly over to the right, and Levi’s eyes follow. A young girl, maybe in her twenties. Smiling at the camera, displaying her pearly whites. Levi can make out the group that must’ve been hurdled around you and your father while the picture was taken. Makoto’s arm is around your waist in what appears to be a protective way. “His fine piece of a daughter.”

“Makoto’s daughter,” Levi says, the words coming out gruffly, like he’s testing the air. Of course, he knows who you and your father are. “Why are you showing me this?”

Kenny leans back, eyes gleaming with something Levi can’t decipher. He takes a moment, savoring the tension in the air before answering, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “Because her father’s paying a pretty penny to keep her pretty. Been buggin’ me about it for a while now, but I ain’t no babysitter.”

“Neither am I,” Levi scoffs, setting his glass down and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not taking anything, especially from people like them.”

Kenny’s eyes flicker with an almost predatory gleam as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near hiss. “You know how things work, Levi. Money talks. And Mr. Suzuki's got plenty of it. He's desperate. His daughter’s a political asset, no different than a pawn on a chessboard. But she’s got a problem—she’s too... distracting, if you catch my drift. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll see the opportunity here.”

Levi shakes his head, his jaw tightening as he stares at the picture, your smiling face glaring back at him. The thought of being involved in any situation with Makoto Suzuki’s daughter—especially in the way Kenny’s implying—turns his stomach. He’s fought his entire life to distance himself from this kind of world, from men like Makoto, who wield their power like a weapon and treat their own flesh and blood like assets. He snorts, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’m not a damn babysitter, Kenny. And I sure as hell don’t get mixed up in that kind of business. I’m a civilian now, it’s staying that way.”

Kenny’s grin widens, as if he’s been waiting for this exact response. He leans back in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of the table. “That’s the problem, Levi,” he mutters, eyes narrowing. “You think you can just walk away from all of this. You think you’re done. But the world doesn’t work that way, not for people like you. You don’t just get to put your hands up and say, ‘I’m done,’ because someone like Suzuki? He doesn’t give a damn about your past. He sees what you can do, and he’ll make sure you know it.”

Levi’s eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s heard it before, the way people try to pull him back into the chaos. He’s been fighting it for years, but it’s always lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to strike. “I don’t give a damn what Suzuki thinks,” Levi mutters, his voice cold as steel. “You know what kind of man I am. I’m not some hired weapon anymore. I’m happy where I’m at now.”

Kenny laughs, a low, rasping sound that seems to crawl under Levi’s skin. “And yet, here we are, aren’t we? You’re still the same guy, Levi. You’re just pretending not to be. When the world’s out to get you, you can’t just sit on your hands and pray it’ll go away. You’ll need allies, whether you want ‘em or not.”

Levi clenches his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He wants to reach across the table and throttle Kenny, but he knows that wouldn’t change a damn thing. The man’s words ring too true. The world doesn’t let people like him go so easily. It’s a cold, unforgiving reality. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze still locked on the picture of you and your father. The idea of getting involved with Makoto Suzuki’s business makes his skin crawl. He’s been there and done that—used as a tool in someone else’s game. He refuses to go back.

“I’m not your guy for this,” Levi says, his voice unwavering, but the unease in his chest grows. “Find someone else to play your damn games.”

Kenny groans and rolls his eyes. “Stubborn lil’ thing, huh? It’s extra cash, Levi.”

“Does it look like I care?” Levi cooly replies. “I’m not doing it. He can get a clean Marleyan to do it.”

“What? Ya think that’s it? He won’t let you watch his daughter ‘cause you ain’t Marleyan?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? What smart man would employ someone who fought against his country to be up close and personal with his daughter? We’re still a devil to some, remember?”

Kenny leans forward again, his eyes gleaming with something Levi can’t quite place. The older man seems almost amused by Levi’s firm resistance, as if he’s testing a limit he already knows well. He taps the table once more, the sound cutting through the tension like a ticking clock. “You’re a real piece of work, Levi,” Kenny mutters with a smirk. “But you’re forgetting something. Mr. Suzuki’s desperate. And desperation… well, it makes people do things they wouldn’t usually consider. And in this case, what he’s offerin’ isn’t just money—it’s leverage.”

Levi freezes at the word "leverage." The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as his gaze snaps up to meet his uncle’s, suspicion and anxiety coiling tightly in his chest. “Leverage?” Levi repeats, voice low, barely above a whisper. He knows too well what that means—Kenny’s not talking about a job offer anymore. This is something bigger, darker.

Kenny’s grin widens, but it’s not a pleasant smile. It’s the grin of someone who knows exactly how to pull the strings. He leans in, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You ain’t gotta choose the game, Levi. You’re already in it. Suzuki’s got dirt. Big dirt. And if you don’t play nice, that dirt’s gonna find its way to your doorstep, sooner or later.”

Levi’s heart races as he absorbs the weight of Kenny’s words. He can feel the familiar weight of the past creeping back in, like a shadow he can’t shake. He’s fought so hard to stay out of this world—this world of manipulation, of dangerous men who make deals and break lives without a second thought. But it’s all starting to feel inescapable. “You’re saying if I don’t help him, he’ll use whatever he’s got on me against me?” Levi’s voice is steady, but there’s a tightness in his chest that betrays his growing unease. He feels like he’s already caught in the web—he’s just waiting for the final tug.

Kenny nods slowly, that sinister glint in his eye never leaving. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. He’s already been planting the chip in my damn ear about you. And you know better than anyone—someone like Suzuki? He don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been. You’re useful to him, Levi. You’ve always been useful. And now, you’re gonna be useful to his daughter.”

Levi’s fingers twitch involuntarily, a dark, suffocating feeling building in the pit of his stomach. He wants to scream, to smash the table between them, but he stays silent. His mind races, searching for any escape, any way out of this mess. “You can’t make me do this,” Levi says, his words low but firm. “I’m not going back. I’m not going to be anyone’s pawn.”

Kenny leans back in his seat, clicking his tongue. “You’re already a pawn, Levi. You just haven’t realized it yet. You’re surrounded by players who know how to move the pieces. You just happen to be the one they’re comin’ for.”

Levi feels his throat tighten, the cold reality of Kenny’s words hitting harder than he wants to admit. He’s trapped. No matter how far he tries to run, no matter how much he wants to be out of it, the world he’s left behind has a way of finding him. And now, it’s threatening to drag him back in. He scrubs a hand down his face.

“Think about it,” Kenny continues, his voice almost soothing, as if he’s offering advice. “You ain’t have to do much. Just keep an eye on Suzuki’s little girl. Protect her. Get a few hands dirty, but nothing that’ll land ‘ya in trouble. Think about the money. Think about what you can do with that money. Think about the doors it could open.”

Levi looks down at the picture again, at your smile, at the image of a life he knows he doesn’t belong in. But he knows his uncle is right about one thing—the world doesn’t let people like him go that easily. And maybe, just maybe, this isn’t as simple as walking away. The weight of the decision presses down on him like a lead weight. He wants to punch something, to refuse, to get off this plane, never look back and stay his sorry ass in Eldia. But the words get stuck in his throat.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Kenny asks, voice heavy with expectation.

Levi doesn’t respond right away. He stares out the window, the soft hum of the plane filling his ears, as the choice looms over him like a storm waiting to break.

The second the plane has landed and the door opens, he’s striding down the ramp. Mood soured and the whiskey does nothing but make him more adept to just how much of a damn headache his forsaken uncle. Two figures in the distance momentarily ease his grumpiness. They familiarly approach him.

“Levi! How was it?” Gabi asks first, striding forward to give him a tight hug around his waist.

“Careful,” he murmurs, though his hand pats lightly at her back. “Nothing interesting. What about you two? Held up well?”

“Sure did,” Falco responds, smiling. “Shop’s doing fine, no hiccups.”

Levi nods and hums in approval. Gabi removes her arms from him, just about to ask another question when Kenny’s scratchy voice breaks the atmosphere. “Oh, look at that. Forgot about these two monsters.” He approaches with a crooked smile, head tilting and leaning against Levi. “Huh, you both are smaller than I re—”

“Shut up,” Levi cuts him off, shrugging him off. “And don’t talk to them.”

Kenny lets out a bark of laughter, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist,” he says, stepping back with an exaggerated sigh. “Just makin’ conversation.”

Levi ignores him, glancing back at Gabi and Falco, who exchange wary looks before Gabi’s nose wrinkles in annoyance. “Who’s this old man?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“Just an annoying bastard,” Levi mutters.

Kenny smirks. “You wound me, shorty.”

Levi clicks his tongue, already regretting letting Kenny tag along. “You’re not staying long, are you?”

Kenny grins, all teeth and trouble. “Nah, just for a drink or two. Maybe I’ll even stop by the shop, see what kinda scam you’re runnin’.”

Levi’s eye twitches, but Falco steps in before the argument escalates. “We should head back. You look tired, Levi.”

He is tired—tired of this, of the headache that is Kenny, of the weight pressing on his shoulders. He casts one last glance at the man before exhaling sharply. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Kenny just chuckles, watching as the trio walks ahead, hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. He follows at a distance, whistling a tune that grates on Levi’s ears. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Did you bring us anything back, Levi?” Gabi asks, looking up at him.

Levi exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Tch. What do I look like, Santa?”

Gabi pouts, nudging his side. “Come on, not even a little souvenir?”

Falco chuckles. “I told you he wouldn’t.”

Levi rolls his eyes, but after a brief pause, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. He tosses it to Gabi, who catches it with a surprised blink.

Her face lights up. “Wait—you actually got me something?”

“Just open it,” Levi grumbles, ignoring the way Kenny is still whistling behind them.

Gabi rips the paper off, revealing a sleek pocketknife with an intricate engraving on the handle. She whistles, running her fingers over it. “This is so cool!”

Falco’s eyes widen. “A-A knife, Levi? Really?”

“She’s gotta learn how to defend herself,” Levi mutters. “Can’t have her relying on you all the time.”

Gabi grins, flipping the blade open and inspecting it. “I love it. Thanks, Levi.”

Levi shrugs, glancing at Falco. “And for you.” He reaches into his coat again and hands over a small box.

Falco hesitates before taking it, opening it carefully. Inside is a simple but finely crafted wristwatch. He blinks, then looks up at Levi, eyes wide. “This is… really nice.”

“Better than being late all the damn time,” Levi says, side-eyeing him.

Falco rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. “I guess I deserve that.”

Kenny lets out an exaggerated sigh behind them. “Damn, no gift for your dear ol’ uncle? That hurts, Levi.”

Levi doesn’t even turn around. “Your gift is me not punching you in the face.”

Kenny cackles, and Gabi snorts as she tucks her knife into her pocket. Falco just shakes his head, slipping the watch onto his wrist. Despite his exhaustion, Levi feels the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. The walk to the tea shop only takes about ten minutes. Falco takes the keys from his pocket and unlocks the door, allowing the group to step in. Kenny looks around, nodding slowly with a small whistle. “Cozy in here.”

Levi glances around, already feeling a sense of peace settle in the small, warmly lit space. The gentle scent of freshly brewed tea fills the air, mixing with the earthy tones of wood and herbs. The walls are lined with shelves of tea jars, some familiar, others he hasn’t seen before. A few potted plants sit near the windows, softening the atmosphere.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Falco says, setting his bag down behind the counter and turning to face the group. “We’ve been getting a lot more regulars lately. Gabi’s been keeping things running smoothly.”

Gabi grins proudly, twirling a strand of her hair. “What can I say? I’ve got skills.” She gestures to the chairs by the window. “Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I’ll brew some fresh tea for you.”

“Not a tea kinda man,” Kenny waves her off.

“I meant Levi,” she raises a brow, looking Kenny up and down before going back around the counter. Falco follows her. His eye twitches, huffing to himself and turning to see Levi sitting in one of the open chairs with a small grunt. “Damn kid’s a smart-ass.”

“Good thing she is.”

Kenny sits beside Levi, tapping his foot against the floor. “Alright, about the—”

“Not here,” Levi is quick to shut him down, sending the older man a certain look. “Hold on.” Gabi comes back with Levi’s desired tea, along with Falco setting down a small report of how things have been since he’s been gone. Levi nods and thanks them quietly, sipping the tea. “You two, head outside for a second.”

Gabi and Falco simultaneously tilt their heads in confusion. But Falco speaks up first. “What? But we haven’t even had time to—”

“Outside.”

Gabi opens her mouth to protest, but Falco quickly cuts in with a muttered, “We’ll be outside,” before she can say anything more. The two exchange a glance, clearly confused, but they gather their things without further questioning. Gabi gives Levi an uncertain look before following Falco out the door.

Levi waits until the door shuts behind them before turning his attention back to Kenny. The air between them tightens instantly, the tension thickening as Levi sets his tea down on the table with a soft clink. He hesitates for a few seconds, unsure if he should entertain his idiotic uncle. But he has a feeling that no matter what, he’ll be a thorn in his side. “How much?”

Kenny grins. “Confidential, of course. Until you accept the job.”

Levi’s gaze hardens. “I’m not a fucking bodyguard, Kenny. I’m not some hired muscle, and I’m definitely not interested in babysitting some spoiled brat—no offense to her, but that’s not my scene.”

Kenny’s eyes gleam with amusement, the kind that makes Levi this much closer to punching him in the face. “That’s exactly why they need you. You’re not the kind of guy who takes orders, and that’s what she needs. Someone who can think for himself, who won’t just bow to her family’s whims. You know how it is in that world, Levi. People like her, they’re walking targets.”

Levi’s eyes flicker briefly to the door, as though expecting the others to walk back in, but the room is still empty. He rubs his temple, trying to keep his frustration in check. “And what makes you think I’d give a damn about protecting some rich girl? I’m not in the business of charity, especially not for people like her.”

Kenny leans forward, his voice lowering, almost coaxing. “You’re in the business of keeping your head above water, right? Getting by. This job? It’s a chance for you to cash in. You’re good at what you do, and I think you’ll find this… lucrative. Plus, you know it’s not asking for much. Just a little loyalty to the Suzuki family.”

Levi’s fingers twitch, the temptation gnawing at him. He’s always been a pragmatist, and this… this could solve a lot of problems, not just for him but for the people he cares about. But Kenny knows that too. “You’re asking for too much.” Levi finally meets his uncle’s gaze, his voice sharp, but controlled. “And you know I don’t work on other people’s terms.”

Kenny’s smile falters for a split second, but then he leans back again, his expression returning to that smug, confident air. “You’re still thinking like the old Levi. You’ve got a chance here to step up and make a real name for yourself besides ‘the strongest.’ You don’t have to play by their rules, you just need to keep her alive and out of trouble. It’s not that hard.”

However, Levi is still finding it hard to just give in so easily. He’s never been a bodyguard, but is being a soldier that much different? Just protect, right? However, he remembers your father; how couldn’t he? The little meeting that was held after the bomb Eldia dropped on Marley that led to a cease fire not too long after. He remembers the way he regarded him and his peers with concealed mirth in his eyes, clenched hands that made it known how much he despised losing and coming to terms with ‘the devils’. He hadn’t trusted him then, and he doesn’t trust him now. So why the hell is this same man trying to employ him?

He’s never met you, of course. Levi isn’t much to delve into media or the higher-ups. Just simple bits of you here and there is what Levi is accustomed to. All he knows about you is what he’s seen in passing—brief news clips, vague mentions, a face in the crowd of the powerful, the kind of people he’d rather ignore. He doesn’t pay attention to the higher-ups or the media, and certainly not to the rich and pampered. That’s always been a world Levi keeps his distance from.

Kenny, sensing his niece’s hesitance, softens up just a tiny bit. “Listen, why don’t you come with me tonight? Supposed to be meetin’ up with the man himself at some club; maybe you can get a feel of him there?”

Levi’s expression hardens, and he mutters under his breath, “I’ve never trusted him.”

Kenny, watching him carefully, seems to understand the unspoken question. “I get it. You’ve got a history with that man, and I can’t blame you for that. But this isn’t about him, kid. It’s about you—your future. You could save up for yourself and find a better place than some shitty, one bed apartment. If you stick to what you know, you’ll always be stuck in the past.”

Levi looks up, meeting Kenny’s eyes. There’s no warmth in his stare, only cold calculation. “What’s the catch, Kenny? You want me to babysit a rich girl to what? To get closer to him?”

Kenny holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Nothing like that, Levi. I told you, this is about keeping her alive. That’s all. The rest will follow. But you’ve gotta see it for yourself. You think you can read people? Come with me tonight. We’re meeting with your old friend at a club, and you can get a feel for the man.”

Levi’s gaze flickers toward the window, the streets outside bustling with life, and the idea of stepping into that world, even for a moment, gnaws at him. He’s been out of that circle for a long time—he doesn’t want to dive back into it. He enjoys his civilian life. But Kenny’s offer is tempting. Too tempting. He could get a sense of what was really going on and see if it was worth his time or if it was just another trap. Levi stands up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He doesn’t say anything at first, his back to Kenny as he pulls his coat tighter around his frame. The weight of the decision is pressing down on him, but he knows that if he turns Kenny down now, the man won’t stop. He’s relentless.

“Fine,” Levi says, his voice steady. “I’ll go. But don’t expect me to walk away from this thinking it’s anything more than a job. And I’m not playing nice.”

Kenny’s grin returns, more satisfied now as he stands. “That’s all I’m asking, Levi. Just keep your head straight. We’re in for a long game here, and you’ve got a front-row seat.”

Levi doesn’t respond. He understands he’s walking into unknown territory, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for it. But one thing is for sure—he’s going to find out what kind of man your father really is. And if he’s going to protect you, he’ll need to know exactly what—or who he’s up against.

A high-end gentlemen’s club was not what he was expecting. Tucked behind an unsuspecting bar, the neon blue cursive letters that spell out “The Silk Rose”. They flicker softly in the darkness of the not-so-early night, casting an almost dreamy-like glow onto the concrete below. The street outside is quiet, unassuming—nothing to hint at the kind of opulence that lies within. Levi eyes the sign, then glances at Kenny with mild irritation.

“This your idea of a professional meeting?” he mutters.

Kenny just smirks, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. “You’d be surprised how much business gets done between overpriced scotch and soft lighting. Besides,” he adds with a wink, “Suzuki likes a certain… ambiance.”

Levi scoffs, and the scowl on his face deepens. Still, he follows Kenny inside, the brute bouncer at the door giving them a once-over before stepping aside wordlessly.

Inside, the contrast is immediate. Velvet-draped walls, soft jazz humming low over the speakers, and golden chandeliers that twinkle like stars overhead. It smells like expensive perfume and power. The kind of place meant to impress men who’ve forgotten what it’s like to hear the word no.

Women in silk dresses that barely pass for clothing drift across the room like ghosts, each movement precise, curated. But the staff aren’t the only ones dressed to kill. Men in tailored suits lounge in leather booths, cigars in hand, speaking in hushed tones. This is a playground for the elite, the dangerous, and the untouchable. Hushed conversations, soft laughs, teasing touches shared between those around aren’t what makes Levi’s nose crinkle with distaste. It’s the look in the men’s eyes that does. The way they eye every woman as if they are a toy to be played with—as if they’re the prey. No doubt the women here have caught on to the predatory nature the men wordlessly exude, yet they’re still here. In a sense, it almost begins to remind him of his mother.

Though he’d like to think she had at least a little more self-respect.

Kenny leads him toward a private room upstars and in the back, past thick velvet curtains. “Suzuki’s already here. Try not to look like you’re gonna kill someone.”

Levi’s jaw ticks. “No promises.”

Two tall men are standing, dressed in all black suits, on either side of the velvet red curtains that separate the wolves from their leader. The one on the right steps up, chest puffed out. He eyes both Kenny and Levi before speaking. “This area’s blocked off. Head back down.”

Kenny doesn’t break stride. He simply reaches into his coat, flashing something—an emblem, a card, maybe even just the weight of his name. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make the guard hesitate.

“He’s expecting us,” Kenny says, voice smooth but with an edge that suggests he’s not in the mood to repeat himself. “Now step aside.”

The guard’s jaw tightens, and he glances toward the other man, who gives a small nod. With a reluctant sigh, the first one steps back, tugging the curtain aside.

Kenny winks at him on the way in. “Atta boy.”

Levi follows his uncle, his boots nearly silent against the plush carpet. His eyes flicker over the details of the room like a sniper zeroing in. He can feel it—every inch of this place is designed to disarm, to distract. And yet, his guard is higher than ever. The private room is dimly lit, the atmosphere intimate, suffocating. A low table sits in the center, encircled by deep sapphire couches that seem to swallow anyone who sits in them. The scent of aged whiskey, cigar smoke, and some cloying cologne hits his nose instantly.

And there he is.

Makoto Suzuki sits like a man who’s owned the room since birth, legs crossed, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch. His suit is dark navy, custom, his tie just loose enough to suggest control disguised as ease. His grey hair is styled neatly back, and his auburn eyes are trained on the swirling dark liquid in his glass. There's a woman perched next to him, draped across the couch more like decoration than companion. She doesn't even look up. There’s four more of his henchmen standing beside the couch, two more seated at the tiny table in the corner engaged in a small game of cards.

At their arrival, they all look up.

Makoto’s gaze lifts slowly, and when it lands on Levi, something in it shifts. Calculating. Amused. Maybe even mildly impressed. He doesn’t stand, of course. Men like him don’t need to.

“Kenny,” he greets smoothly, lifting his glass in a faux toast. “And the infamous Levi Ackerman.” His voice is like smoke—polished, poisonous. Makoto gestures toward the open couch across from him, entirely unfazed by the cold stare he's receiving. “You’re taller than I remember.”

Levi doesn’t blink or sit. “You’re exactly how I remember.”

Kenny stifles a chuckle, plopping himself down on the couch and pouring himself a drink. “Let’s keep it civil, boys.”

Makoto lets the jab roll off him like mist off marble. He leans forward slightly, that same damned calm expression etched across his face. “So, Kenny, how’ve you been?”

Kenny exhales like he’s just settled into his favorite recliner, legs spread, glass already swirling in his hand. “Busy. Making deals. Babysitting this one,” he jerks a thumb toward Levi without looking at him. “Same old.”

Makoto’s smile twitches—just enough to acknowledge the remark without really responding to it. His attention, however, doesn’t drift far from Levi. The kind of look a lion gives a stray dog: amused, but watchful. “And yet, you dragged him here. Which means he knows he’s not just here for the ambiance.”

Levi still hasn’t sat. He doesn’t intend to—not yet. The air in this room is thick with the kind of arrogance that turns his stomach. This man, this entire place, reeks of money and power layered like cologne over something rotting beneath.

Kenny, unbothered, tops off his glass and throws back a sip before answering. “Told you I’d find you someone. Someone you could trust to keep your girl safe.”

Makoto’s brow lifts, gaze sharpening. “My daughter is not some damsel in distress.”

Levi’s voice cut in, low and steady, “Then why does she need a bodyguard?”

Makoto’s eyes narrow just slightly. Not insulted—curious. Testing him. “Not many people speak to me like that, Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi doesn’t flinch. “Not many people interest me enough to bother speaking to at all.”

There’s a long pause, heavy but not quite tense—just enough to let the power dynamics settle. The woman beside Makoto finally shifts after he makes a subtle shrug of his shoulder, and she quietly excuses herself as she rises and disappears through a side door, unnoticed by anyone but Levi.

Kenny raises a brow and shoots Levi a warning glance that reads behave, but he doesn’t say a word.

Makoto finally leans back, the lazy smile returning to his lips. “I don’t trust easily. You know this. But your name,” he gestures vaguely in the air, “it still carries weight. Especially with them.” His eyes flicker with meaning—whether it’s to the press, politicians, or war-hardened enemies, it’s unclear. Probably all of the above. “My daughter is… unique. She’s sweet, but not stupid. Pretty, but not a pushover. She doesn’t know what’s circling her yet, and that’s exactly why she needs protection. She knows her role, and I intend to have her keep playing that.”

Levi folds his arms. “Then hire a soldier.”

“I did,” Makoto replies simply. “I hired you.”

Something sharp passes between them. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition.

Kenny sighs, slumping further into the couch. “You gonna stand all night like a coat rack, or you gonna sit and listen?”

Levi eyes the couch like it might bite, then slowly moves to perch on the edge—not relaxed, not open. Always ready. His stare stays locked on Makoto.

Makoto studies him in turn, then finally gives a small, tight smile. “You’ve killed a lot of people, haven’t you?”

“So have you.”

The smile lingers, but it doesn’t quite reach Makoto’s eyes. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

A silence settles again. Somewhere outside the door, the jazz track shifts to something slower, more sultry. Time continues as if the world doesn’t realize two predators just agreed to circle each other, for now. Then Makoto raises his glass again, eyes gleaming. “To the devil you know.”

Kenny chuckles, clinks his glass. Levi doesn't move. He just stares. Because to him, the devils have always worn suits like this one.

“How much?” He finally asks.

Makoto leisurely sips his drink, setting the glass onto the table between them.

He leans back, fingers steepling loosely in front of him, head tilted slightly like he’s just been waiting for Levi to ask. “How much is her life worth to me?” he muses aloud, as if the question is more philosophical than transactional. “More than any sum I could ever offer. But you, Mr. Ackerman—you’re not a man who wastes time with sentiment.”

Levi’s silence confirms it.

Makoto chortles. “Ten thousand a week. A private penthouse suite. Round-the-clock access to every resource you’d need—transport, intel, weapons, contacts. And no leash. You work how you want, answer to no one but me.”

Kenny whistles low beside him. “That’s one hell of a package, even for you.”

Levi doesn’t look impressed. “Sounds like you expect a war.”

The atmosphere is a live wire—thrumming between them, sparking with old blood and new stakes. It’s broken by Makoto rising from his seat, his men following. He straightens out his suit jacket and makes a motion with his fingers. “Come, I’ll show you the prize right now.”

And Levi finds himself reluctantly following along like a dog, and Kenny too. The group of men exit from the curtains, heading back down the spiraling staircase. The music softens as they descend the staircase, like the club itself is aware something heavier just entered the room. Without a word, the other guests make way for the group, some women sending flirtatious waves or doe-eyed smiles towards Makoto. Levi’s eyes flicker across the patrons who glance up, some pretending not to stare, others openly gawking. Power like Makoto’s always draws attention, and the entourage trailing behind only confirms it. Levi hates this part—the theatrics, the display, the illusion of untouchable grandeur. But he plays along, stoic as ever, even as they cut through the low hum of conversation like a blade through silk.

Makoto slides into the center seat at the lavish round table like a king returning to his throne. The plush leather molds around him effortlessly, his posture regal but relaxed. Levi takes the seat to his right, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatics. Kenny flops down on the left like he’s done this a thousand times—which, knowing him, he probably has.

The men behind them form a wall of polished muscle and sharp gazes, stationed with silent obedience.

Makoto signals to a woman behind the bar with a simple glance, and almost instantly, she nods and disappears into the back. Levi’s gaze tracks the interaction, narrowing slightly.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Only moments later, the crowd parts—slow and smooth—as you step out from behind the deep red curtain, flanked by two club hostesses who clearly pale in comparison. You're wearing a purple satin number, delicate and barely-there, its shimmer catching the warm light in all the wrong—and right—ways. Your hair is styled with effortless elegance, and you walk like you’ve never tripped a day in your life. Or like someone taught you never to look like you did.

Levi doesn’t breathe for a second. Not out of awe, but surprise.

He wasn’t expecting this. Well, you surely look…different.

You don’t look at the men who part like waves for you. You don’t even glance toward Makoto until you’re at the table, offering only a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Father,” you say smoothly, voice soft but clear.

Makoto gives a pleased nod. “Darling,” he murmurs, like the word itself is another performance.

You look to the man beside him—Kenny—and offer a subtle tilt of your head, polite, reserved. Then your eyes slide over to Levi. Your gaze lingers.

And Levi… feels it.

Not just the scrutiny. But the weight of expectation. Of curiosity. Maybe even challenge.

“Having a good time?” Your father asks as you lean down, turning your head slightly so he can plant a reverent kiss on your cheek. “Mingling and all that, yes?”

You chuckle, red-stained lips curling upwards in a soft way. “Oh, yes, father. Of course I’ve been. I’ve made friends with some of those you've asked me to.”

There’s a silent look in your eyes—like you and your father are telepathically communicating. Levi’s eyes barely stray from you, forcing himself to get familiar with his charge’s expressions. Your father hums in approval, nodding. “Good girl.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, head tilting. “Though…maybe some of my friends are having a bit…too much fun.”

Makoto follows your line of sight toward a semi-rowdy group of older men. Drained glasses littering their table as one they laugh boisterously at their own jokes. Your father’s jaw ticks slightly, giving three of his men a tiny nod in the group’s direction.

The command is silent but understood. The three guards move swiftly—like shadows trained in courtesy and intimidation—drifting toward the group of men without needing to speak. Their presence alone sobers the laughter, draining it from the air like a sudden draft of cold wind. The drunkest among them nearly chokes on his drink, sputtering apologies before anyone even lays a hand on him. Levi doesn’t miss the shift. The way your lips press together just slightly. Like you're both amused and weary of what your father’s influence can do.

Makoto turns back to you, eyes glittering with a sharp kind of pride. “You’ve always had a good eye.”

You shrug lightly, folding your hands in front of you like you're nothing more than an accessory at the table. “I just like keeping things...elegant.”

It’s then that Makoto gestures toward Levi with the casual air of someone introducing a pet he’s particularly fond of. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’ll be looking after you from now on.”

You finally turn to face him fully.

Levi meets your gaze, this time with intention. The color in your eyes is sharp, observant—more calculating than your painted smile suggests. It’s a quick scan, top to bottom, and Levi feels it again. The test. Like you're waiting to see what kind of man your father’s put in front of you this time. “I see,” you murmur, tone unreadable. Then, with graceful attachment, you sit at the table—choosing the empty lap of Levi himself. He stiffens in surprise, his initial instinct urging him to push you off. Your sweet scent invades his nostrils instantly. However, he withstands it, deciding he wouldn’t like to deal with the consequences as of now. “You like wine, Mr. Ackerman?” you ask lightly, pouring yourself a glass from the bottle that was already waiting.

Levi doesn’t answer right away. His eyes study you, more than the wine, more than your dress. Trying to read between your lines. Trying to decide if you’re amused by all this. “I don’t drink,” he replies flatly.

“Oh, what a shame. This is the finest liquor in all of Marley.” You pout, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. Your eyes don’t stray from his as you indulge, licking your lips clean when you bring it away. “My father must’ve really hired such a resolute man.” You chuckle, leaning forward slightly and sending your father a subtle glance.

“As resolute as there is.” Makoto huffs in amusement.

Makoto’s pride crackles in the air like a cigar ember burning low—hot, glowing, dangerous.

Levi doesn’t respond to the praise. He just sits there, solid and unsmiling, posture stiff beneath the soft weight of you in his lap. He can feel the way you effortlessly carry yourself. You wear your charm like a silk veil—delicate and graceful.

You swirl the wine in your glass, voice lilting as you speak again. “Will he be sleeping in my room too?”

Makoto chuckles low, slow. “Only if you give him reason to.”

Now it’s Levi’s turn to give your father a look. He almost wants to blurt out the obvious question of why he’s allowing you to act like this in front of him. Why he seems completely okay with a hypothetical situation of some man you just met sleeping in his daughter’s room. But instead, he’s joking about it—going along with it, enabling it.

Do you usually act like this with men?

Kenny lets out a bark of laughter at that. You glance back at Levi, brows lifting. “Do you take orders well, Mr. Ackerman?”

He stares back at you, unflinching. “Only from the ones I respect.”

You hum, intrigued but unshaken. “I suppose we’ll see if I earn that.”

The moment hangs there—heavy, stretched taut like wire. Then you slide off him in one smooth motion, as if the whole thing was just a test. A show of dominance in velvet gloves. You cross your legs and lean back in your seat beside him, your posture still elegant. The toe of your heel nonchalantly brushes against his calf, up and down.

Makoto raises his glass in a lazy toast, gaze moving between you and Levi. “To new arrangements,” he declares.

You and Kenny echo the sentiment, a sweet giggle falling from your lips. Glasses clink. Wine swirls. The club resumes its slow, seductive pulse around them—but Levi knows something in the air has shifted.

This wasn’t just a job anymore.

This was theater. A powder keg. And he was now sitting in the front row, watching it smolder.

And the woman sitting beside him—who had moments ago treated his lap like a throne—now looks like a statue carved from something more fragile than stone. Still, poised, but not entirely present.

Levi glances at you from the corner of his eye.

You're watching the club floor now, eyes half-lidded, fingers idly tracing the rim of your wine glass. You laugh at something Makoto says, soft and sweet, but Levi hears how hollow it is. Like you’ve told that laugh to show up on cue too many times. And as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, Levi’s thoughts crawl.

Makoto didn’t hire a bodyguard for your safety. Not really.

He hired a leash.

But Levi Ackerman doesn’t do leashes—not for long.

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@starrynights23x @cherlouu @littlebabyrae

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astrolook · 2 months ago

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⚡Natal Aspects Observations⚡

Note: These are all based on my personal observations and patterns I’ve noticed over the years. Western astrology based. Let me know in the comments if any of this hits home for you! And feel free to leave what doesn’t resonate.

Moon square Pluto - You wear your heart on your sleeve, but...it's a sleeve made of barbed wire. Your emotions are intense like an overcharged battery and when you feel threatened, you would go nuclear. Tests people to see whether they will stay through your bad times. Can be a control freak, in some cases.

Venus conjunct Ascendant - People feel your vibe before they see you like a song they recognize but can't name. Keeps part of yourself hidden. Both magnetic and invisible at the same time. Love in silence or from a distance where you can't be fully known. On the flip side, you're the one they dream about but you're out of their reach.

Sun trine Moon - Emotionally stable but secretly tired. Your head and heart usually agree. People assume you’re chill because you don’t scream in public, but they miss the eye twitches. The world would be burning and you would still stay calm and composed. A functional person.

Sun square Pluto - It is like trying to live your life with a volcano constantly humming under your skin. By age 25, you have already buried 5 versions of yourself for the better. Might intimidate people. Self-protection level 999.

Moon opposition Mars - You react fast, feel hard, and cool down way later than you’d like to admit. You hate being told to “calm down” because it makes you ten times louder. You want closeness, but the second something feels off, you're snapping or shutting down. Holds grudges and waits for the right time to show it. Expressive face.

Venus trine Uranus - Sometimes you’re a mystery, sometimes you’re the life of the party. You’re drawn to unconventional love and beauty, and you’re the type who’ll fall for someone who’s “different” in all the right (or wrong) ways. Gets bored fast. You probably have a thing for experimenting with style or constantly shifting your vibe/style.

Uranus trine Ascendant - Basically your “I was born this way” energy on steroids. You don't follow trends. You always think one step ahead of us. You’re a bit of a wildcard, but you don’t make a show of it. Leader, not a follower unless it's a dark place.

Moon square Neptune - You can sense everyone’s moods but have trouble deciphering your own. You’re looking for magic in a world that’s mostly mundane. Sleeps too much when depressed.

North Node conjunct Mercury Rx - It is like being handed a map and told to navigate, but the map is upside down and missing half the directions. Communication feels like a game of broken telephone; you’ll get the message, just not without the detours and delays. Your ideas are constantly evolving. Repeats the same old mistakes 10 times until reality checks in.

North Node conjunct Lilith - You're meant to own your badass side in this lifetime even if the society tells you to tone it down. Might raise a few eyebrows along the way but some rules are meant to be broken.

Venus square Saturn - Your heart wants to give, but your brain keeps reminding you about all the reasons why it’s a bad idea. Wants intimacy but build walls like a maze. An underrated or underappreciated person.

Mars trine Jupiter - You have a built-in engine that just never runs out of steam. Your laugh is contagious probably. When things get tough, you bounce back faster than most as you're not the type to sulk for long. You might occasionally bite off more than you can chew.

Wanna go deeper into the layers of your placements? DM me for a complete astrology reading or a 5 year/8 year marriage report or synastry reading🌙💬 and check out my pinned post for pricing + details 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐

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rebelssvy · 6 months ago

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vulnerable ✧.*

bakugo x reader

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ “you drew stars, around my scars.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: fluff, somewhat sad. you get hurt and bakugo comes to cheer you up. you cry to him

you felt utterly helpless. after the most recent incident, you were left on a bed rest. hurting both your knees, and back lifting a building off civilians.

you sat in the dorm, as everyone else was at school. left in silence and your emotions. your thoughts became overwhelming. falling into a slumber you your mind drifted off.

it wasn’t long until you heard a knock on your door. “come in..” you mumbled, throat dry and scratchy. you weren’t sure who would be coming in to see you. it had been days since everything happened and only your close girl friends dropped by.

watching the door handle twist and pop open. katsuki stood in your door frame.

“holy shit it’s fucking depressing in here.” he stated before flipping on your light switch and closing the door behind him. you didn’t want him to see you like this. you had been very fond of him since first year. slowly growing closer to him as you became adults, about to graduate soon.

“hi..” you croaked out. become very aware of your voice. you gave him a weak smile.

“hey loser” he said dropping a bag onto your desk and pulling the chair over to your bed. before he sat down.

“i brought you some snacks. maybe you’ll be less rude to me i thought” he said with a chuckle.

“i-i haven’t seen you.. in what feels like forever.” you said hushed. not able to generate much volume in your speech.

he took in your expression. you looked slightly unkept, he still thought you were utterly gorgeous. you had yourself hidden in your hoodie and blanket.

“they took m-me for surgery.. right after i passed out. i guess adrenaline can only get you so far..” you said as if he wasn’t aware. you didn’t know it but he had stayed at the hospital the entire time.

his hardened expression switched to one of love and care. he dropped his head before saying “can i see..” he looked sincere.

you nodded before sitting up, moving your blanket out of the way. you showed him your legs. all bruised and scarred, some of the pen from the surgery still apparent.

you awaited his reaction. wondering if he would feel disgusted or not. would this be the moment he decided he would never like you, or the opposite. maybe he would think i am strong. you thought

“i already think your strong, y/n.” you gasped, can he read your mind? “i can read you like a book.” he stated chuckling. you laughed with him.

you sat in silence before sitting up farther. “do you.. want to see my back?” you asked him. almost wanting a form of validation. for him to tell you your scars didn’t ’make you’.

“yes. show me.” he responded, still calm. you noticed a subtle blush on his face.

you reached around your back, finding the hem of your hoodie. before groaning. you were still in a lot of pain. unable to get it over your head.

“can you help me?” asking weakly. he didn’t respond verbally, he just smiled softly and brought his hands to yours.

for his quirk being so hot, his hands were often cold. you drew in a quick breath when he made contact with your skin.

he studied you, bringing your hoodie up over your head. holding it over your naked cleavage. the doctors still didn’t want you wearing bras for it could mess up your stitching.

once again you felt vulnerable. waiting for him to say somthing. he ran his fingers near your incision. you watched his face as he did so.

you felt your eyes gloss over. growing very emotional at his touch. trying your best not to cry, you let your eyes fall to your knees. staring at them instead of him.

“you can cry around me… cry baby.” he said softly, his eyes now on your face. without another word you started sobbing. all the emotions that had been off, switched on from his touch.

you sounded embarrassing, stifling, groaning. you felt every emotion at once. quivering, you whispered, “i’m sor-ry you have to see me like this.”

before you could say anything else he pulled you into a hug. hugging you like you could slip away at any moment. you grabbed onto him, dampening his hoodie.

the moment was just you, intimate. vulnerable.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

i think i’m gonna make this but with kiri!! why not loll. please give me asks. i’m beggin

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aphrodicci · 1 year ago

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ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛꜱ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴛʀᴏɢʀᴀᴅᴇ

thank you for the 10,000+ followers! a game with no exchange will be released:)

now that i've written and understand planets in retrograde thoroughly they will be included in chart readings for free.

THE SUN AND THE MOON CANNOT BE IN RX.

MERCURY IN RX

♇ having mercury in rx makes someone think more often, especially over the most pettiest things they think is big. they're very anxious people, and since it is in retrograde it could be implied that they're "wired differently" they think more out of the box, and even speak different, how they speak and write could be very distinct.

♇ mercury in retrograde could give someone inactive relatives, or cousins and siblings they're not close to. and since they're people who doubt themselves a lot, they could stall themselves from the path they're supposed to take, being their own obstacles. they could also be people who take some time to take in/process information.

♇ as i said they're people who hold themselves back a lot, this could link to their childhood, might've had people speak over them and silence them when they were younger.

VENUS IN RX

♇ people who have venus in retrograde might focus on love too much, and they could be people who have a struggling relationship with women. sisters, women who are their cousins and women who are their friends.

♇ they could also be very secretive people, they have a hard time opening up, which could make them be deemed as cold. they have a hard time giving and receiving affection.

♇ they could be bad at handling money, and might think everyone is out to get them. they could find it hard to love themselves, having venus in rx, is the peak of the "tortured poet".

MARS IN RX

♇ those who have mars in retrograde could have a hard time getting along with men, or even with the opposite sex. to have mars in rx could mean you could be considered as someone who i very intense. can a hard time expressing your sexuality and aiming for your goals.

♇ instead of learning life lessons quick, they are normally stubborn people and barely listen to advice given to them by trusted people. could be people who are too hesitant, say and do things at the wrong time and place.

♇ people with mars in retrograde might've gone through sexual trauma, could be scared to be intimate with other people. they're people who hate authority or people trying to have dominance over them. the type of people to not listen to the rules and break them.

JUPITER IN RX

♇ people who have jupiter in rx are the definition of "thinking out of the box", they're people who do have moments that question their faith and some of these people tend to have a God Complex.

♇ sometimes they feel like they're the unluckiest person in the world, might feel like they wont be able to travel the world like they want to. could also have long cycles of depression.

♇ having jupiter in retrograde can mean they're someone who marches to the beat of their own drum, they can be very detail-oriented people, which sometimes mean they feel like they can judge anyone and think of themselves to be flawless. jupiter in rx people are the type of people who want everything in their future to be perfect also, without life's trials and tribulations. can be unrealistic.

SATURN IN RX

♇ as it is told, saturn in retrograde brings a father that wasnt in the person's life, the person who has the saturn in rx can make someone feel like they're being punished by life all the time.

♇ this could also mean they might find it hard to express themselves emotionally, could be due to their childhood. they go through many trials and tribulations, makes them depressive, but in the end they become really wise.

♇ they doubt themselves a lot, could have trouble balancing themselves, and their masculinity, could be too domineering.

URANUS IN RX

♇ people with uranus in rx do not like change, they're likely insecure, [not all are going to be due to different commodities in a chart], but these are usually people who think they are not going to succeed in life.

♇ they sometimes feel like they're in control of nothing which pushes them into their need of controlling everything. they're quick-thinkers but still over-thinkers. they feel like they can never feel nice in a platonic or romantic connection.

♇ it leads them into being paranoid and chaotic. they might also put themselves in a box to make things easier, don't know they're limiting their potential when doing that, they're so much more and need to understand it.

NEPTUNE IN RX

♇ to have neptune in rx could make the kin be very delusional, might find it hard to separate idealistic views with reality. definitely reminds me of alice in wonderland. they're very spiritual people but can over-whelm people by adding their faith into everything.

♇ could be really good at manifesting; trust issues but sometimes are stubborn from learning their mistakes. can be deemed as very dreamy and compassionate.

♇ they could have this feeling of needing to save everyone. their trials and tribulations are a creative outlet for them, another indicator of being the tortured poet. [but the tiring and damaging things they go through are usually expressed through their art, which includes writing, story-telling, writing music, painting etc].

PLUTO IN RX

♇ i do get surprised when i come across these in a natal chart reading, but, pluto in rx folks definitely do hate constraint, they dislike authority and feeling like they're being controlled, which could push them into trying to control other people.

♇ could be escapists through drug and sex, they could also find it hard to accept their dark-self. easily infatuated people, people can get easily obsessed with them as they can get with other people.

♇ good money makers, could manipulate others with materialism, though, they might not be confrontational, could feel easily intimidated. sometimes could never see the potential in themselves can be their own obstacle.

masterlist

pluto

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velvetseahorse · 6 months ago

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Astrology observations and notes

- Mula natives can be intense in intimate relationships. Claire Nakti mentions them being energy vampires, a trait that I believe all Ketu nakshatras share. However, Mula individuals take this to an extreme—they deeply desire to consume their romantic partners or loved ones, often expressing love and affection in ways that can be violent or disturbing. For example, Mula ☽ native Amy Winehouse once carved “I love Blake” (referring to her then-boyfriend Blake Fielder-Civil) onto her stomach using a shard of glass during a photoshoot. Mula ☉ native Keith Richards snorted his own father’s ashes. He explained, “The truth of the matter is that after having Dad’s ashes in a black box for six years—because I really couldn’t bring myself to scatter him to the winds(…)when I took the lid off the box, a fine spray of his ashes blew out onto the table. I couldn’t just brush him off, so I wiped my finger over it and snorted the residue.”

- All three Pisces nakshatras (Purva Bhadrapada, Uttara Bhadrapada, and Revati) are late bloomers. This may be because Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac and is connected to the 12th house, which rules moksha and the dissolution of individual existence into the eternal flow of life. The ultimate purpose of the 12th house is spiritual liberation and freedom from samsara. Sidereal Pisces natives are often tested and placed in situations where they must lose aspects of themselves to gain wisdom and grow, which can delay the usual stages of development in their lives. Pisces is naturally detached from material matters and easily in tune with its divine essence. Similar to Ketu, Pisces is often associated with spirituality and higher wisdom. In fact, many Vedic texts suggest that Ketu co-rules Pisces, but I’ll explore that topic in another blog post. The 12th house represents confinement, the subconscious, loss, endings, isolation, delusion, unseen realms, and private emotions. It is a deeply spiritual and sensitive house where suffering is often hidden, but it also holds profound wisdom when approached with the right mindset. Pisces natives are highly sensitive, and when faced with harsh realities, they often cope by withdrawing from the world. They prefer to live in a reality of their own making—a gift they naturally possess. However, they cannot escape responsibility entirely, as life’s traumas frequently force them to reflect and grow. Pisces natives are natural observers rather than active participants, and you won’t often find them following societal trends. They tend to stay alone, forging their own unique path. As escapists at heart, Pisces struggles to make sense of things logically, often relying on emotions and intuition instead. This is why Mercury debilitates in Pisces. For Pisces, life feels like a ripple in water—vast, reflective, and abyssal like the ocean. Because of their tendency toward isolation, the mundanity of life can be deeply depressing for them. They may overthink, fall into maladaptive daydreaming, or become so lost in their imagination that they miss out on their own present lives and development. Once Pisces natives stop escaping and begin addressing their emotions in a healthy way—through spiritual practices or creative expression—they can unlock their full potential. Pisces is highly creative, with Venus exalting in this sign, emphasizing their natural gifts in art, music, and storytelling. Most Pisces natives feel a calling for something greater than an average life and often possess the talent to fulfill that calling. However, their main challenge lies in taking consistent steps toward their goals and overcoming their finicky, scattered tendencies.

- Ashwini natives are prone to addiction, self-medicating habits, and mental health challenges. Ashwini is a Ketu-ruled nakshatra, and Ketu, being the opposite of Rahu (the head), represents the headless body—detached from material desires and driven by the pursuit of spiritual liberation. This detachment creates disillusionment with the material world, leaving Ketu natives in their most raw, primal state, seeking the deeper truths and secrets of existence. Ketu’s influence is often compared to Mars because both planets help break through limitations, but their motivations differ. Mars is driven by ambition and devotion, while Ketu is fueled by detachment from material pursuits. This immense detachment makes Ashwini natives especially susceptible to addiction, often as a way to numb themselves or escape from overactive mental activity. Aries, the sign ruled by Ashwini, governs the head, and Ashwini as the first nakshatra carries the primal spark of energy and mental impulses. This nakshatra relates to mental activity, making its natives highly energetic but also restless and prone to overthinking. Their constant mental stimulation can lead to exhaustion, agitation, and self-destructive behaviors if not managed well. Ashwini natives have a natural intelligence and a desire to attain things quickly. However, this need for constant intellectual or physical stimulation can result in impulsive and reckless behavior when they are not moving or engaged in something meaningful. Ashwini is a restless nakshatra, and when placed in social environments requiring conformity, natives may struggle to fit in, often resorting to sarcasm and bluntness. Their detachment from societal norms, combined with their cosmic youthfulness and childlike nature (symbolized by their deities, the young twin horses), can make them appear rude or immature. Although Ashwini natives may try to behave in a “normal” or formal manner, this often leads to frustration due to their need for freedom and stimulation. Their childlike energy and cosmic vitality are best channeled into pursuits that allow them to move, grow, and explore.

- Venus in the 12th house is a beautiful but challenging placement. Natives with this position view romance, spirituality, or even life through rose-colored glasses. While this gives them a dreamy and idealistic perspective, it can also lead to disconnection from reality, resulting in disappointment and, often, depression. Venus is desires, romance, pleasure, and art. When placed in the deeply private and spiritual 12th house, these aspects become tied to one’s emotional and spiritual well-being. People with Venus in the 12th tend to keep their relationships very private, often out of fear of outside interference. The 12th house also rules hidden enemies, which can make these natives cautious about exposing their love life. They are unconditional lovers, often idealizing their partners to the extent that they may overlook toxic or unbalanced dynamics. It’s common for Venus in the 12th natives to love more intensely than their partners, which can lead to one-sided or non-secure relationships, such as secret affairs. These natives are often seduced by the idea of love in their minds, finding it difficult to accept the reality of their situation. This disconnection can lead to insecurity, particularly regarding their self-image. Physically, those with Venus in the 12th house are quite beautiful, but they may struggle to see or embrace their own beauty, feeling unworthy of love. Despite these challenges, Venus in the 12th house produces some of the most empathetic, self-sacrificial, and artistically gifted individuals. Venus is exalted in Pisces, the ruler of the 12th house, which enhances their creative potential. The 12th house governs hidden things, so natives may have hidden artistic talents that they should explore. They can create art that has a profound emotional and spiritual impact, capable of healing others and excel in surrealist forms of expression, romantic poetry, music, and visual mediums that convey unexplainable yet resonating emotions.

- Ashlesha and Uttara Bhadrapada bring to mind the effects of anesthesia. Ashlesha represents the beginning stages of anesthesia, with its Shakti—the power to inflict poison—a clinging and restrictive energy that feels paralyzing. This is akin to how anesthesia is injected into the nervous system, suppressing consciousness and inducing a detached, deep sleep-like state. Uttara Bhadrapada represents the culmination of this process, embodying the state of deep sleep. Its deity, Ahirbudhnya—the serpent of the depths—reflects the energy of stillness and dissociation of what’s above (reality/conciousness) , as well as the 12th house’s connection to sleep and the unconscious. Uttara Bhadrapada signifies the transcendental detachment from the physical body, much like the dissociative, dream-like state brought on by anesthesia. Ahirbudhnya’s symbolism as the serpent of the deep ocean mirrors the sensation of being submerged or taken into a controlled, deep state under anesthesia. Ashlesha’s clinging, paralyzing venom parallels Uttara Bhadrapada’s surrender and stillness, with both evoking states where the body is subdued or transcended. Ashlesha operates through the subconscious and instinctual nervous responses, while Uttara Bhadrapada focuses on spiritual transcendence. Anesthesia acts as a bridge between these realms, allowing the body to rest while bypassing conscious awareness.

- Pushya and Krittika natives can have features characterized by full lips, almond-shaped or wide-set eyes, which can also be rounded and downturned , or upturned and almond shaped typically deep-set. They tend to have very soft cheeks and overall gentle facial features, even among Krittika natives. Those born under the sheep yoni have soft, curly, or full hair. These natives dislike being alone and will often join others they can’t emotionally or socially relate to simply to avoid solitude. Krittika is in the ♉︎ and ♈︎ rashi, while Pushya is in ♋︎. Interestingly, Taurus exalts the Moon, and Krittika is the nakshatra where the Moon is exalted. Despite their planetary differences, both share similarities, including being associated with the goat/sheep yoni consort. Both Krittika and Pushya are nurturing by nature; however, Pushya leans toward giving, while Krittika tends to receive. There is a pure aura about them, as they are spiritually pure at their core and often sacrificial. For example, Joan of Arc, a Pushya ↑, led French armies based on divine visions she claimed to have, ultimately leading to her martyrdom by being burned at the stake—an example of these nakshatras embodying the archetype of sacrificial lambs. Krittika’s symbol is a blade, and the name itself means “one who cuts.” Its deity, Agni, the fire god, represents purification through fire, especially of the soul. Krittika women, in particular, can face disdain from both men and women due to their sovereign and independent nature. They are often misunderstood and may fall victim to others attempting to humble or overpower them.

Ebonee Davis - Pushya ↑ Halle Berry - Pushya ☽ Krittika ♈︎ ↑

Spike Fearn - Krittika ♈︎ ☽ Mick Jagger - Pushya ☉ krittika ♉︎ ☽

-Jyeshtha natives are known for being great writers, excelling in songwriting, literature, poetry, and rap. There are many notable poets, rappers, and songwriters with Jyeshtha placements, including Ottessa Moshfegh, Joan Didion, Bob Dylan, Emily Dickinson, Jim Morrison, Clarice Lispector, and Sonny Hall. Rappers like Nicki Minaj and JT, as well as singer-songwriters such as Sinead O’Connor and Tom Waits, also carry strong Jyeshtha energy. Jyeshtha is ruled by Mercury, which governs communication and expression through use of speech and writing. It also rules numbers and words and how we use them to problem-solve and convey ideas. Known as the “elder,” Jyeshtha’s deity is Indra, and Jyeshtha natives tend to excel because of their high standards, ambition and intuitive expertise in their craft. Relying in the ♏︎ rasi—a mysterious, transformative, intense, and passionate sign co-ruled by Mars and Ketu—Jyeshtha natives delve into themes of impersonal tragedy, exploring the darker aspects of the human psyche. Their writing is distinguished by their technique, style, and wordplay. Mars appears prominently in charts of many rappers through both signs (Aries and Scorpio) and nakshatras (Mrigashira, Chitra, and Dhanishta).

- Chitra nakshatra is quite similar to the Venus nakshatras in terms of behavior in my opinion. Chitra is all about refinement, creativity, beauty, and enjoying things that appeal to the senses. Although ruled by Mars, its connection to Venus (♎︎) and Mercury (♍︎) gives it a visually oriented and perfectionist nature, much like the Venus nakshatras, which are immensely creative. Both Chitra and Venus nakshatras share a tendency to push boundaries, sometimes indulging in taboo subjects. Venus nakshatras are known for their exclusivity, often socializing and collaborating only with other Venus nakshatra natives. Similarly, Chitra exhibits a form of discrimination by networking and associating only with those they deem worthy—often based on aesthetics or social status. Chitra natives are also highly judgmental, frequently offering unsolicited critiques because they cannot tolerate anything they perceive as imperfect. This mirrors the Venusian tendency to prioritize beauty and refinement above all else Especially because Venus (Shukra), the guru of demons and Chitra is demonic Rakshasa gana. there are, of course, key differences between Chitra and the Venus nakshatras.

- Saturn in the 4th house: The 4th house is one of the most private houses in astrology, ruled by Cancer, which is governed by the Moon (representing emotions). This house symbolizes our early home environment, upbringing, and especially our relationship with our mother. The mother is our first home (the womb) and nurtures us emotionally. How our parents teach us to regulate emotions is crucial for our emotional well-being. However, with Saturn in the 4th house—a restrictive and malefic planet—its energy clashes with Cancer’s nurturing qualities, as Saturn is in its detriment in this sign. Saturn represents coldness, self-limitation, underdogs/outcasts, effort, and karma. Natives with Saturn in the 4th house experience a difficult childhood, being forced to mature quickly and take on heavy responsibilities at a young age. They may feel disconnected from peers, unable to engage in carefree, childish behavior due to these responsibilities. This placement often indicates a mother who is emotionally distant or invalidating. These natives might have been told to “be strong” instead of expressing their emotions. In some cases, they may have served as their mother’s emotional crutch, catering to her emotional needs instead of receiving the nurturing they needed. Traumatic family events may linger, leaving them feeling tied to their family out of a sense of duty. For Saturn in the 4th house natives to thrive, they need to move away from their homeland or create physical distance from their family. Despite the hardships, individuals with this placement tend to develop deep empathy, a strong sense of responsibility, and profound wisdom. However, they are prone to anxiety and mood disorders, making it crucial for them to seek therapy, learn emotional regulation, and to give themselves a break and allow themselves love by building a supportive community that provides comfort and belonging.

- Jupiter in the 5th House: The 5th house is an important and auspicious house in astrology, representing past karmas and influencing one’s life journey. Creation is a central theme of the 5th house, whether through children, art, intellect, or ideas. With Jupiter placed here, this becomes a highly favorable position. Jupiter, known as Guru, is an expansive planet that represents luck, joy, knowledge and abundance. It thrives on self-improvement through activities like reading, studying, meditation, and creative pursuits such as music or painting. Natives with Jupiter in the 5th house feel an innate optimism about education, creativity, and spirituality. They approach learning and creating with a sense of childlike curiosity and openness, allowing them to absorb knowledge and express their creativity with purity and innocence. This mindset helps them flourish in these areas. Because the 5th house also rules children, individuals with this placement have a growth-oriented relationships with children. They may naturally take on roles as teachers, mentors, or guides, and children are likely to be drawn to them easily. Their own children will be blessed as well. However, this positive energy is best expressed when the 5th house is free from malefic influences or harmful conjunctions to Jupiter. Without such hindrances, Jupiter’s energy shines brightly, encouraging intellectual and spiritual growth. It’s important for those with Jupiter in the 5th to remain mindful of their potential naivety. While optimism and generosity are key strengths, they must remember that actions still carry consequences. Overindulgence or excessive reliance on luck can negatively affect their karmic balance. To truly thrive, these natives should strive to give as much as they receive, ensuring that their abundance benefits not just themselves but others as well.

*All these notes are just based off my own personal observations and readings. It may not resonate everyone with these placements

#vedic astrology #astrology observations #sidereal astrology

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mcrdvcks · 15 days ago

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Hello! I just read your fic with the shy/insecure reader with Logan and I loved it sm!!

Could I request a similar thing with Bucky? Reader is just insecure of her looks instead, never truly finding herself attractive.

Again tysm love ur fics 💗💗

this feeling sucks, i've felt this way all my life. "funny" story: i started going to therapy like 4 months ago for my depression, but i'm also working on my self-esteem with my therapist. one reason i feel the way i do is because my dad always said the opposite of "you're pretty." it was always, "you need to lose weight," or "that shirt makes you look fat." i had enough courage to tell my dad that (after a few months of therapy), and he said he read an article when i was little (like 2 or 3) that said that complementing your daughter will make her overconfident and egotistical.

anyways, my point is, if anyone else feels super insecure with how they look, you're not alone <3 and we all need a bucky in our lives!

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: insecure!reader, thoughts of not looking good/feeling good enough, soft!bucky, protective!bucky

Bucky doesn’t notice your insecurity at first—not because he’s oblivious, but because he genuinely sees you as beautiful and assumes you already know it.

It’s the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking. The way your hands move when you talk. The crinkle in your eyes when you smile. He’s quietly obsessed.

He starts to pick up on it when you always change behind a closed door—even when it’s just the two of you.

You brush off compliments. Laugh awkwardly when he calls you gorgeous. Won’t meet his eyes when he says you look good.

One night, after a mission debrief, he finds you looking at yourself in the mirror—expression unreadable, fingers pinching at your waist like you’re trying to hide something that isn’t there.

He pauses in the doorway, just watching for a beat too long. Bucky wraps his arms around you from behind, gently pulling your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that. You’re not allowed to treat my girl like that.”

He’s not great with big speeches—but he means it every time he says, “You’re beautiful.” He notices every change in your face when he says it—how you never believe him, how it bounces off you like armor.

He starts small: Swapping your shampoo for one he loves the smell of. Letting his hands linger on parts of you that you try to cover up. Whispering, “you look good in my shirt,” like it’s just a passing thought—but meaning every word.

Sometimes he gets a little gruff when you put yourself down.

“You don’t get to talk about my favorite person like that.”

“You know I’ve been alive over a hundred years, right? I’ve seen a lot of pretty. You still knock the wind outta me.” He says it so simply, like it’s a fact—not a compliment he’s handing out, but a truth he lives in.

After missions, when you both are bruised and exhausted, he makes sure he’s the one helping you clean up. Not because you need the help—but because he wants you to see the way he looks at you when your hair’s a mess and your face is bare and you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He starts leaving quiet reminders: Post-it notes on the mirror (“You looked cute brushing your teeth.”) His hoodie folded next to your pillow (“Smelled like you. Missed it.”) A photo of you, unposed, laughing at something dumb he said—set as the background on his phone.

You catch him staring sometimes—when you’re not wearing makeup, when you’re in ratty pajamas, when you’re doing absolutely nothing special. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He shrugs. “Because you’re here. And you’re mine.”

He makes you model every new outfit you buy, even if it’s just a new pair of socks. “C’mon, twirl for me.” And if you don’t, he spins you around himself.

At first you’d let out an exasperated laugh, saying that they’re “just socks” or “just a shirt.” But Bucky would just ask you again to “show it to him.” If you were still a little shy about it, he’d walk over to you and twirl you slowly himself, giving you detailed complements. “I like those socks; they’re your favorite color.”

He always makes it about you, not the clothes. “Looks good. But not as good as your smile.” When you roll your eyes, he grins. “I’m serious. I’d frame you if you let me.”

Sometimes he’d pull you into his lap without warning. Wrap his arms around your middle, bury his nose in your neck, and hum like you were the coziest thing he’d ever held. You’d try to squirm away, saying your hair was a mess or you hadn’t changed out of your worn sleep clothes. He’d just say: “Good. You smell like home.”

He compliments things no one else notices. The curve of your handwriting. The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How you fidget with your necklace when you’re nervous. How your voice goes soft when you talk to animals.

He has a quiet obsession with the parts you dislike. The curve of your stomach when you sit down? He rests his hand there. The soft underside of your arms? He kisses it like it’s sacred. The “plainness” you see in the mirror? He traces it with his eyes like it’s art.

He adores seeing you in his clothes. You think it's because they're oversized and hide everything you hate. But he loves it because you're comfortable. Because you wear them without overthinking. Because “that’s the most yourself I ever see you.”

You once caught him muttering under his breath, “She’s so fuckin’ pretty,” while you were brushing your teeth in his old t-shirt. He didn’t even realize he said it out loud.

He’s not afraid to complement you in front of others. He knows you get shy when he does it, so he just sticks to nicknames like “pretty girl,” “sweetheart,” “doll,” and “angel.”

Even during missions, it slips out sometimes—gruff but affectionate. “You good, sweetheart?” over comms. “Don’t need you getting hurt, pretty girl.” When you deflect the nickname with a joke or a shy shrug, he doesn’t push. He just looks at you with those blue eyes like he’s memorizing you all over again.

He starts making you part of his morning routine: brushing his teeth while you do yours, kissing your shoulder before you put your hair up. “Mornin’, beautiful,” even if you’re still blinking awake.

He learns the exact places you’re insecure about and starts doting on them without making it obvious. He’ll rest his hand on your thigh when you’re curled up beside him. Press a kiss to your shoulder when your tank top slips just right. Nuzzle into your stomach when you’re in bed, saying, “Best pillow I’ve ever had.”

Bucky started complementing you so often that even Alexei and Bob joined in without really knowing why.

Alexei once said, completely serious, “You are a strong 8.5. Maybe 9. In Soviet Russia, you’d be married already.”

Bob just nodded solemnly, then handed you a flower he found in the parking lot. “He talks about your eyes a lot. Just saying.”

Yelena picked up on it first. Saw the way you dodged cameras and avoided your reflection in shiny windows. She didn't say much, just started calling you "hot stuff" every time you walked into the room.

Bucky would grumble every time they chimed in—“That’s my job”—but secretly, he was grateful. Because maybe if enough people said it, you'd finally believe it.

#2000 followers celebration #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfic #yelena belova #bob reynolds #alexei shostakov #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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shaunamilfman · 2 months ago

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i almost do [3]

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!reader summary: It's been long enough, hasn't it? If only Shauna could bring herself to apologize. note: minors dni Masterlist

She’s doing it again. It’s not even a surprise any more, if it ever was. You aren’t sure what to make of it, but you know with a bone-deep certainty that if you show your face outside of Nat’s hut, her eyes will be solely focused on you.

Shauna’s been the butcher for so long that she doesn’t even need to look down at her hands as she slices, each move mechanical and efficient, but you wish that she would. You used to tell her off for it, constantly reminding her to at least pretend she was watching for your sake instead of staring down Mari, but that’s just not your place anymore.

And whose fault was that?

You shuffle next to a group of girls huddled around the fire, staying close for warmth as you surreptitiously adjust the outer layers of your clothes to make sure her flannel is still hidden firmly out of view. The last thing you need is for someone to comment on it loudly enough for Shauna to hear. It was a stupid risk, keeping it.

Dumber still to wear it out, but you spent far too much time laying around in the hut and tracing the worn fabric with your thumb to pretend you didn’t want to. She snuck into Nat’s hut in the middle of the night like some kind of bandit and left it with you. Well, the exact opposite of a bandit really, but the fact remained that she wants you to have it. Wanted, maybe, if she hasn’t changed her mind since.

It was hard enough avoiding those eyes of hers now—achingly sad and lonely, right back to the girl who had first pinned you up against that tree all those months ago. Her eyes were always more expressive than anything else. Even those rare times she managed to keep what she was feeling off of her face, you could always count on those brown eyes to tell you what was what. They told you when she was proud. When she was feeling uncertain. When she loved you.

Because Shauna certainly won’t.

She never has, really, but she hasn’t even brought herself to speak to you since she tried to pull that gun on you. Shauna wants to speak to you, to explain whatever fucked-up thing was going through her head when she reached behind her back, or even just quietly exist beside you like she used to. But she never seems to be able to fully cross that line and make her way toward you. Seemingly content to mope around and stare like some kind of depressed ghost.

You know that if you let her talk to you, you would forgive her just as easily. If she could actually get the words out, that was. No hesitation, no lecture, no more sleeping in Nat’s hut and wishing you could feel Shauna pressing up against you.

It wasn’t some calculated attack, but the stupid split-second reaction of someone who’s never known how to sit with hurt feelings without letting them explode outwards and damaging everyone in the vicinity. Shauna has always acted without thinking, right down to the very beginning of your relationship when she kissed you back without even fully knowing why. It’s done nothing but get her in trouble, back home but especially out here.

The kind of impulsivity that ends with you pregnant with your best friend’s boyfriend’s baby or holding a camp full of girls hostage because you can’t deal with the idea of returning to a town that holds nothing but ghosts and shame.

Then there’s the rage. That blinding rage that takes hold of her and erases all sense of thought and logic, her eyes narrowed so tight you’re not even sure she can see beyond it. When she gets that smug little smirk on her face that seems perfectly designed to get beneath your skin, as infuriating as it is hot. The one that makes you want to slap her and kiss her in the same breath. But mostly slap.

But there are other things. Softer things that you have to make a concentrated effort not to think on if you have any hope of remaining mad.

Like the tears she sheds when she thinks you're asleep, face pressed tightly into your shoulder as she shakes from the effort of holding them back as you lie there pretending not to hear. The name she whispers in her sleep that you won’t acknowledge even to yourself. How worried she’s become since summer turned into fall, how dedicated to ensuring you were never cold. Not the rest of them, just you.

The look she gets when you're cuddled up on your cot, pressed together tightly as her hand brushes stray strands of hair away from your chest. The comforting weight of her head on your chest when she falls asleep listening to your heartbeat. Even just the way she entwines your fingers when you’re alone, tracing her thumb up and down the side of your hand like she could never get tired of it.

The way she reached for that gun behind her back.

You have to remind yourself of it.

You can forgive her, but you need her to ask for it. She has to mean it. It can’t just be folded away like so many of the things she’s done out here.

If there’s one thing you can’t do, it’s letting her pull you back into that hut like what she did was nothing. You know what the rest of them whisper about you behind your back. What they get brave enough to say about your and Shauna’s relationship. Her little dog, faithful and forgiving.

The first person you heard say it was Mari, laughing with a group of them around her about how you’ll stop following Shauna around when she finally bites you hard enough. You didn’t say anything then, just rolled your eyes and pretended like you didn’t hear it. But you always did.

Then there’s the bets Van’s been taking about when you’re going to take Shauna back. Those you didn’t mind so much, not when Van winked and promised to share the loot. She made it sound more like a joke than the pity some of the rest of them looked at you with. At least Van was honest. At least she seemed to understand sometimes.

But still. Being with Shauna wasn’t like what the rest of them thought. You’ve seen the way they’ve been looking at you for months: like they felt bad for you. Like you somehow drew the short straw. They couldn’t possibly understand why you were with her in the first place, and it made you so damn sad.

They didn’t see the way her face softens when she catches you staring. How shy it makes her, like she didn’t fully understand it either. Her eyes darting down and then back up, always pleasantly surprised to find you still looking. The way she squirms and slaps your hands away when your fingers tread just a little too close to being ticklish. They didn’t know how tightly she holds onto you, like she’s terrified you won’t be there when she wakes up again. That special way she says your name.

She was your girlfriend, and they just keep making it into a punchline.

Maybe that’s why, even now, there’s still distance between you and the rest of them no matter how closely you’re huddled together. Nat bumps your shoulder, careful not to brush by Misty who’s standing near you. You have questions about their sudden distance, but you’ll let her keep her secrets. She never presses you about Shauna, despite how badly she seems to want to at times. The least you could do is return the effort considering you’re sharing her bed now.

Regretfully you step back from the fire, following Nat a bit away from the rest of them. Just out of earshot, you think. You glance over at Shauna, scoffing when you see her talking to Hannah again. As much as she cautioned you about talking to her—screamed at, belittled, accused you of flirting with, made you feel small—the same didn’t seem to go for Shauna.

Figures.

The whole thing was stupid, anyway. You don’t get why Shauna would be talking to her in the first place. Shauna hates talking to anyone who wasn’t you, and sometimes even you didn’t seem to be an exception. What are they talking about over there, anyway? Probably off braiding each other's hair and swapping secrets. It’s petty of you, but you felt that it was more than deserved at this point. Shauna had stormed off after much less, after all.

You miss the way Shauna’s eyes follow you with something awfully close to jealousy as you follow after Nat.

…

“What are you doing out here?” Shauna asks sharply.

You jump in surprise, wincing as it pulls against your shoulder. It was mostly healed, but it still doesn't feel nice. Her posture shifts as she softens, hands uncurling by her side as she glances at your arm. She stands by the doorway of her hut, shifting on the balls of her feet like she isn't quite sure what she's doing out here. Shauna’s looking at you like you’re a puzzle she still hasn’t figured out, even after all this time. You wonder if you really are just a mystery to her sometimes with the way she reacts in surprise to so many things.

“Just watching the fire,” you say, feeling a tinge of awkwardness from the way she was just standing there watching. Her expression, what you could make of it from the light of the fire, was far too intense for how late it was.

“That's not your job.” Simple, to the point. Direct. Typical Shauna.

“Well, no,” you admit, glancing over in the direction of Misty's hut. You knew she was awake in there, likely listening. It was, after all, her job to be watching the fire. You weren't sure why she chose to stay in the hut. She's been avoiding you ever since you started rooming with Nat. Giving you a wide berth, like whatever you had was contagious.

“I just couldn't sleep.”

“You should go to bed,” Shauna says tersely, like she’s forcing the words out.

“Fine.” You sigh as you stand up, taking a step toward Nat's hut.

“No.”

“No?” You ask as you slowly come to a stop. You don't turn around to face her as you speak, which you know must drive her insane.

“To your bed,” she says pointedly. Despite how it comes out like an order, you can hear the way her voice wavers.

“And where's that?” Still not looking at her. You can hear Shauna moving around behind you, hesitant and unsure.

“Don't be like that.”

“I'll be however I—”

“Please,” Shauna says. It's enough to make you turn around in surprise. “Can we… Can we talk?”

“Talk, then.”

Shauna glances around, eyes narrowing on Misty's hut. “Inside? I don't want… “

Anyone to hear, you finish in your head. Yeah, that sounds about right. You step towards her silently, closing the distance between you. Shauna's eyes widen in surprise, murmuring a soft “oh” under her breath as she ducks back into her hut.

For all her talk, she doesn't seem to know what to do with you now that you're back in her hut with her. Shauna blushes suddenly as her eyes catch something before quickly looking back at you. You can't help but indulge your curiosity and follow her eyes, a pleased feeling rising in your chest as you catch sight of your shirt balled up on her bed.

Worn and unmistakably slept in since you’ve been gone. You wonder how many nights she’s spent sleeping in it, or maybe even just holding it up to her face and pretending you were here. It’s kind of pathetic, really, but you can’t deny how good it is to see it. It’s mostly just sweet. Finally, some evidence that Shauna was as affected by your separation as you are, as much as she pretends otherwise as she walks around with Hannah just a half-step behind her.

Not that you hadn’t been sleeping in Shauna’s flannel as well, but that was your business. You let the silence hang for longer than you usually would, feeling a little earned cruelty as you watch her squirm.

“Didn’t think you were the sentimental type,” you say, voice low and just shy of mocking.

“I’m not,” she rushes out too quickly, her voice cracking just enough to be noticeable. Shauna clears her throat like that would help. “Just cold.”

“Clearly.” Shauna flinches at the words but doesn’t rise to them for once. She opens her mouth, hesitates as she rubs her thumb absently against the sheath on her thigh, and then closes her mouth again. When she doesn’t say anything else, you continue, “I‘m here. Now what?”

“I wouldn’t have shot you,” Shauna says, too fast again, giving you what you think is an attempt at a smile but looks a little too threatening. She seems to be aware of the fact as she winces and looks away, rubbing her hand against the back of her neck in a soothing motion. The way you used to. Then she tries again, softer and more sincere.

“It wasn’t about hurting you.” Her voice sounds so small, so uncertain that it makes you a little sick. “Not really. I don’t know why…”

“So you reached for the gun?” You cut in, tired of watching her pretend it was anything other than what it was.

Shauna flinches like she hadn’t expected you to actually name it. What had she been expecting, anyway? Did she imagine that all she had to do was invite you into her hut and look at you with her sad eyes, and suddenly everything would be okay? Fuck that.

“I just didn’t know what to do. It was—everyone was watching, and you just walked away from me. Like it was easy. Like I wasn’t anything.” She can’t bring herself to look at you as she speaks, but you can hear the way she’s practically begging you to understand what she can’t say. Her arms wrap around her stomach, taking a step back until she’s almost pressed up against the wall of her hut.

You don’t follow her. You don’t offer her anything. You’re tired of making it easier for her.

“Whatever, Shauna,” you mutter.

“Wait, no.”

“I’m tired of waiting for something that’s not ever coming because you’re not—”

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, breath catching in a surprised squeak that you couldn’t have stopped if you tried as you stare at her with wide eyes.

“I wasn’t even thinking. I just wanted you to come back. I didn’t mean to scare you—or maybe I did, somehow in some stupid way. It’s the only way I could think of to keep you, even if it was…”

“I’m sorry, okay?” She repeats again. “That’s all I have.”

Was it enough?

You think it might be.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She questions neutrally, like she’s trying not to get her hopes up. Maybe it was expecting too much of her to think she would sound more excited by the thought. Shauna’s been as emotionally vulnerable as she can manage for the rest of the winter.

“Okay,” you repeat, watching her carefully.

“Okay, what?” Shauna looks frustrated, fiddling with her hands as her fingers twitch toward her sheath again. She rolls her eyes when you grin at her. “You forgive—you’ll come back to bed?”

“This is the last time,” you warn, serious enough that Shauna tenses again. “You don’t get another do-over with something like this.”

Shauna nods thoughtfully as she takes a step forward, seeming pleased when you don’t take a step back. You’ve been doing that a lot lately, carefully avoiding her anytime she tried to stand nearer to you.

“I think I can manage not pointing the gun at you,” she adds smugly.

“Or the knife.”

Shauna gapes at you. “Like…ever?”

“Well, I mean sometimes—”

“A lot of times—”

“Just don’t threaten to kill me with it. Jesus, Shauna. You knew what I meant.”

“No threats?” Shauna demands seriously, even as a small smile comes to her face. It’s barely a smile, more of a twitch of her lips that you would call a muscle spasm on anyone else. It’s practically ecstatic on her. Wow, she must have really missed you.

“No serious threats,” you allow. She tilts her head to the side as if she’s about to start negotiating terms with you, only to hold her hands up mockingly when you narrow your eyes in her direction.

“Fine.”

Her hand hovers by her side before she slowly reaches out for you, hesitant, like she’s forgotten how. You reach out and lace your fingers together, squeezing firmly as you pull her closer without any resistance at all. Shauna’s warm where she’s pressed against you, chest to chest, with your joined hands trapped between your bodies.

She traces her fingers along the edge of your jacket, smirking as she notices the collar of her flannel peaking out. There’s no comment on it, mostly because you kiss her before she has a chance to.

…

Shauna gasps quietly, muffled against your lips as she clutches to your shoulders. Maybe not as carefully as she could, but you can’t bring yourself to mind much.

“Like that?” You question breathlessly between kisses, your non-dominant hand fumbling around between her legs as you curl your fingers again.

It’s taken you a few tries to get it quite right, but Shauna hasn’t seemed to mind much even as your forearm trembled from the effort. Out of character, really, for your girlfriend, who was usually so demanding and bossy, but you think she must need the weight of you on top of her more than anything else. God knows you’ve wanted to feel her as well, active or asleep, as long as it meant she was pressed against you.

A pained hiss leaves your lips as your hand cramps again, not quite as used to the motion as you should be. The angle is awkward, the whole thing really, but it’s the first time you’ve had her in ages. You can’t bring yourself to readjust.

A nod, and then, “Yeah,” as she curls her fingers around the back of your neck to hold you closer. Her head tilts back, offering you up room you happily take to kiss a path down from her lips to her neck.

You can’t get as far as you want, not with her jacket firmly planted in your way. As much as you would love to have her bare beneath you, the ever-present threat of the winter air keeps the two of you mostly clothed. Even her sweatpants stayed on, the waistband digging into your wrist. Still, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Shauna definitely wouldn’t, full out refusing when you tried to go down on her instead. She insisted it was because it was too damn cold out, but you secretly suspected it was for another reason entirely. The way she hasn’t been able to drag her eyes away from you since you eased her back down on your bed said more than words ever could, especially when they came from Shauna’s lips. Like you might not be there, waiting for you to disappear if she did so much as blink.

She looks at you like that a lot, actually: like she can’t fully accept that you’re real.

You’ll just have to remind her that you are. Not to toot your own horn, but it seems like you’re excelling at that right now. Shauna’s fingers curl in your hair as you nip at the peak of her collarbone showing beneath the collar of her jacket. They aren’t guiding you anywhere like they normally would, content just to touch and be touched.

Shauna cries out far too loudly for how close your hut is to the next one as you bite down where her neck meets her shoulder, sucking the skin with your mouth to soothe it with your tongue. She loves marking you more than just about anything else, bruises of any kind littering your body to remind you and everyone else who exactly you belong to. There were still bruises on your hips in the final stages of fading that she left before your fight. She was many things, but thorough was definitely one of them.

Equally happy to receive them, even if she prefers for them not to be visible. Luckily for you, she was too far gone to complain much now. Even when she caught sight of it tomorrow, she would wear it with pride after all this time apart, if only to prove to the rest of them whose hut you were sleeping in again. Shauna was a simple girl sometimes.

“Fuck,” she breathes lowly, pulling you up with the hand on the back of your neck to kiss you again.

It’s desperate now, like it has been all night. The two of you have been making up for lost time, even if neither of you wants to acknowledge it. Your time apart has done nothing but make you want her more, and it seems that she’s not immune to the pull either. If there was one thing you could expect from Shauna, it was to match your crazy.

“Could you—I need—” Shauna murmurs between kisses, struggling to pull away long enough to verbalize the thought.

You know what she wants, and it makes you flush in embarrassment. “I know,” you whisper, trailing off into a whine as she bites at your bottom lip. It's your fault for talking so close to her lips. It was almost a taunt, and of course Shauna would rise to it. “It’s just a little difficult with–”

Shauna rolls her hips up against your hand, grinding her clit against your palm as she tests the waters.

“There you go,” you murmur as she settles into a rhythm, your hand cramping something awful from trying to keep up with it. The words of complaint don’t leave your lips—you hardly even think about them as the two of you move together.

It doesn’t take long then, not that it ever does, before she’s clutching at your shoulder as she makes those quiet little sounds in your ear. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but you can tell she’s holding herself back. Her hips start to slow as she forces herself back from the edge she’s been rapidly approaching. It’s not something you appreciate.

“Shauna, what’s wrong?” You ask, pulling away just enough to look her in the eyes.

Her eyes dart away in discomfort before she slowly drags them back, her face slack with pleasure as she struggles to stay focused on you.

“Fuck, just… Tell me you love me,” Shauna demands.

“What?”

“Tell me you love me,” she repeats, more hesitant this time. Embarrassed. “Are you stupid? You can’t even—”

“I love you, Shauna,” you interrupt, trying to stay patient. Shauna whines in your ear, a sound you know she’ll deny making until her death, as she speeds up.

“Again,” she demands.

“I love you.”

“Again.” Breathier this time.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

She cries out, thighs clamping down around your hand as you struggle to keep your fingers moving. Shauna murmurs your name in something like disbelief, eyes slipping shut as she buries her face into your shoulder.

“I love you.” You press delicate kisses along her jaw as she shudders, repeating the words with each press of your lips.

“Idiot,” Shauna says finally against your ear, her cheeks red from some mix of the cold and her own embarrassment.

You laugh breathlessly against her neck, nipping at the skin in retaliation as her hands trail down your sides.

#minors dni #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman x reader

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