#and any method that works is a good method

[yuzujjn]

APPLE CIDER ◟ LOSER HEESEUNG

𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗥或 ᪲ 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁. 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍, 𝗂 𝖽𝗈, 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄

【 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 】 𝑙’ loser tutor!heeseung & fem!rea 8OO non idol au fluff oneshot incl. skinship slight jealousy ˊᯅˋ click

다니 ⦂ happy birthday @yeokii ! you are senior citizen now, hope u enjoy this

YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING.

“…so you’ll use this formula for these types of derivations,” he mumbles. “it’s not hard if you follow the pattern. the numerator should always,"

his glasses are slightly askew today, like he put them on too fast, and there's a slight smudge on the right lens. he hasn't noticed, of course. heeseung's too busy explaining derivatives like it's some love language, all soft pencil circles and furrowed brows. his voice is calm, patient, low. it's not fair how attractive he looks in this light—messy hair, rolled-up sleeves, shy eyes that barely meet yours unless you’re not looking.

and that's why you say it.

"you know, i think that one TA from econ is kind of cute."

you drop it casually, like you're not watching him from the corner of your eye, like you're not anticipating the pause he makes—just long enough to give him away.

heeseung doesn’t say anything, not for a second. he just… pauses. his pen halts mid-scratch, and when he lifts his eyes, they flick to yours fast, before quickly darting back down to the notebook like it offended him.

“cute,” he repeats, low and neutral. "hm."

you smile to yourself.

"yeah. he's smart too," you say, tone all sugary as you doodle little stars in the marigns of your worksheet. "you know the guy, right? marcus, i think?"

“i know him,” he says, flat. you’re dying. he’s so obviously pissed off it’s adorable.

and now he’s leaning back a little in his chair, arms crossed like he’s casual, like he doesn’t care at all—except you can tell by the slight clench in his jaw and the sharp little exhale he gives every time you say cute that he’s not casual at all.

you lean forward over the table, chin in hand. “honestly i feel like i learn better from him than anyone else.”

his pencil freezes on the paper. just for a second. and then he looks at you.

that gaze you know way too well, like he’s reading your entire thought process and rewriting it in his brain. “you come to me every tuesday and thursday.”

you smile sweetly. “yeah, but that’s just because your notes are color-coded.”

he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t blink. “you got a 96 on your last exam.”

“maybe i just got lucky or i'm smart,”

heeseung leans forward slightly, arms crossed on the table. his expression is unreadable, but his eyes aren’t leaving yours now. “you think that was luck?”

you’re biting back a grin, twirling your pen. “i don’t know. maybe marcus's method just works better for me.” there’s a pause. like he’s calculating what to say next. like he’s choosing violence.

“you wanna switch tutors?”

“mm, i didn’t say that,” you hum. “just saying, he explains things really clearly. i like how direct he is.”

his jaw clenches. not hard. just enough for you to notice. “i can be direct.”

you raise an eyebrow. “really? because last week you took fifteen minutes to explain conditional probability with a metaphor about dice and divorce.”

his cheeks slightly flush. bingo.

he leans back a little, stretching one arm over the back of his chair, tapping his pencil against the table like he’s thinking hard. but his voice is sharp. “if you wanna test how good i am at explaining, i can throw out the worksheet and do this entire lesson from memory.”

you blink. “oh?”

“right now,” he says. calm. cocky. eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows he’s challenging you. “you can quiz me. pick any topic. i’ll explain it better than him. because i’m smarter than him.”

you laugh, bright and surprised. “heeseung—”

“i’m not kidding.” his voice drops an octave. “you think he’s impressive? cool. but i promise you—he doesn’t know you like i do. he doesn’t know what parts you get stuck on. how you read questions out loud when you’re unsure. how you underline things twice when you’re confident. how you always forget to label your axes.” he leans in closer, just a little, eyes flicking down to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze again. “marcus doesn’t sit here twice a week and rewrite notes based on your learning style. i do.”

and you’re quiet for a second. your face feels hot. your stomach’s fluttering. god fuck.

heeseung shifts back, not smug—just sure. “you’re not switching tutors.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but you’re grinning now. “wow. territorial much?”

he shrugs. “not territorial. just confident.”

“mm. so you’re not jealous?”

he snorts softly, finally looking away, and you catch the hint of a smile. “he’s not even that tall.”

“oh my god,” you burst out laughing. “you are jealous!”

he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and mutters, “i could explain hypothesis testing better than that guy in my sleep.”

you smile, watching him as he goes back to your worksheet like he didn't just get jealous. your heart’s beating too fast. he’s so serious, so smart, so him.

you lean in again, voice low, teasing. “well, heeseung, if you wanna prove it... i’m free thursday night.”

heeseung finally meets your eyes again.

and smirks. “then thursday night, you’re mine.”

[bambiihee]

CLOSET CONFESSIONS ˒˒ 휴닝카이

⧼ 📎 ⧽ 一 pairing。 ⸝⸝ huening kai x fem!reader 𓄵 feat。beomgyu and yeonjun of tomorrow x together

genre。⋆ smut, porn with some plot, fluff, coworkers to lovers

warnings。⸝⸝ office au, coworker!kai, trapped in the closet, thunderstorms, sex in the dark, power outages, switch!kai, dirty talk, praise kink, love confessions, unprotected sex, cumshot, pull out method, breast play, handjob, monster cock!kai, mating press, missionary wc。6 . 5 k ╱ ⧼ 📋 ⧽ 一 to library。

author's notes。⸝⸝ a rewrite of an older kai fic on my old blog, holiday decorating! i rewrote it so it's readable all year around hehe~~ hope you all enjoy!! just a quick lil fic while i work on my longer wips <3 i proofread this super duper fast so please let me know if there's any mistakes!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ FEEDBACK 𓇼 REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

No one had ever bothered to warn you about how difficult it was to plan an office party. Maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity when it had been presented to you; though it was awfully in your nature as a corporate kiss-ass to accept any work-related project that was offered to you. In all honesty, you agreed mostly in blind hope of impressing the higher ups, but part of you felt obligated to help when the retirement party you were asked to plan was for the woman you were hired to replace. 

“I'm sure you’ll do great,” your boss, Yeonjun, had reassured you with a not-so-comforting pat on the back. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help!”

You were terrified to ask for help. You had only begun working at TXT Bank eight weeks ago, doing entry-level grunt work filing paperwork and filling out spreadsheets. You didn’t even know most of your coworker’s names yet, and you hardly felt comfortable approaching any of them to ask for help with a completely benefit-less side quest. It might just be the new employee paranoia eating at you, but you couldn’t help but feel as if they wouldn’t be interested in helping you even if you did reach out and ask. The retiring analyst seems to have been a pretty popular staple in the office with decades of work under her belt, and you were a far cry away from the life of the party. You were young, inexperienced, and far too shy for your own good; in the short two months you’ve been employed at the bank, not once have any of your peers even attempted to engage in conversation with you aside from letting you know what you were doing wrong. Yeonjun’s personal assistant, Beomgyu, was the only person in the bank you felt even remotely comfortable being around, having known him from when you were still studying accounting in college. He was the one who got you the position in the first place, and without his mentoring and his happy-go-lucky attitude, you were sure that you would have buckled under the pressure long before now.

It’s only natural that he’s the first person you run to. Yeonjun said that there were party supplies somewhere hidden in the office… but couldn’t tell you exactly where.

“You don’t want my help, believe me,” he laughs, swiveling around in his desk chair to face you. “I can’t decorate worth shit. Plus, Why don’t you go and ask Kai? He probably knows where everything is in this place. You and I both know he’ll say yes— hell, you could ask him to jump from the tenth floor and he’d do it. He’s obsessed with you.”

Playing quietly on Beomgyu’s computer was the early morning news, the strong voice of the weatherman drawing your brief attention. “Record-breaking storms are forecasted to hit the metropolitan area later this afternoon—”

“He’s not obsessed.” You retort weakly, rolling your eyes to counteract the immediate flush that rises on your cheeks. “He’s just a nice guy.”

“Sure, buying you coffee and lunch, following you around like a lost puppy, and offering to walk you to your car every night is just being nice.”

“I asked him to the first time! The parking garage gets so scary when it’s dark out…”

Huening Kai worked in the banks I.T. department, imprisoned down in the basement like tie-wearing goblins. Even then you saw him nearly every single day, the poor boy constantly running up and down the stairs whenever he was called; and everyone asked for Kai when they needed help, because he was just too sweet and polite to refuse. He was the only stranger to welcome you warmly when you first began, offering his unyielding assistance with a handsome crooked smile. He was a godsend those first few weeks, because the outdated software the bank still used went so far over your head it made you dizzy. You still haven’t gotten quite the hang of it, but that was probably because you found it extremely difficult to focus on what Kai was trying to teach you when he was leaning over your shoulder and murmuring in your ear so closely and intimately with that gentle voice of his. You only felt dizzier in his presence, so nothing he said ever stuck… though that worked just fine for you, because that meant you could keep asking for his help.

Beomgyu’s sworn up and down since your first day that Kai has a thing for you. You’re pretty sure he’s just that friendly and kind with everybody. 

As much as you hate it when Beomgyu’s right, Kai absolutely would help you out if you asked him to. You feel guilty for hogging up all of his time, as busy as he is even when he isn’t acting as everyone’s personal errand boy, but if Beomgyu won’t help you, he’s the only other person you’re willing to ask. When you see him again around noon, offering you half of his sandwich with bright eyes and that smile that never fails to give you butterflies, you ask him meekly if he’d be willing to help you find some supplies and decorations for the senior analyst’s retirement party. 

He accepts a little more enthusiastically than you anticipated he would. “There’s a storage closet in the basement that has some of the decorations we used for last year’s Christmas party. I can show it to you later if you’d like! It’ll have to be after everyone goes home, though. I’m technically not allowed to go rooting through storage.”

“There’s supposed to be a storm tonight,” you recall from the news earlier, “Maybe Yeonjun’ll let everyone go home early if it starts pouring. We could stay behind then?”

“Oh, that’s sneaky.” Kai giggles. “Sounds like a plan to me!”

Your heart raced the rest of the day. All you were doing was going through some old dusty decorations, so why were you getting butterflies as if Kai had asked you out on a date? It’s impossible to focus on any of your tasks, your eyes constantly darting between the clock and the gathering of grey clouds over the horizon. By three, the entire sky was taken over by them, dark and ominous, blocking out the sun and swathing the entire city in a foreboding darkness. A light sprinkling of rain at four quickly turns into a torrential downpour, raindrops pounding against the roof and the wind picking up until it’s shaking the windows. Yeonjun starts sending people home early at five, and by six the entire office was empty except for you and a few other hardworking stragglers. 

As much as it pains you to lie to your boss, it has to be done; when it’s your turn to be sent home, you tell Yeonjun that you have extra statements to go through that you want to be done with before you leave. You even make a show out of packing up your purse in front of him, going extra slow because Yeonjun always wanted to stay and chat. Thankfully, he leaves the office himself without much fuss, but only after reminding you twice to drive safely and jokingly warning you about getting out before the building collapses over your head. A little unfair for the poor security guards who had to stay overnight anyway, you think. 

“Of course, sir, thank you. Have a good night.” you reply to Yeonjun’s retreating back with a tight smile, praying to whatever deity would listen that you don’t look as guilty as you feel. 

Once you hear the front doors close shut behind him, you shoot up out of your desk and hightail it to the basement. You find Kai waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, grinning excitedly and waving with his bag slung over his shoulder. “It shouldn’t take us very long,” he says, turning and beckoning you with one of his large hands to follow him, “The closet’s pretty small. I want to get us both out of here before the storm gets even worse. Don’t like the thought of you driving in this weather as it is, but I also want to get you stuck in here all night waiting for it to blow over.”

You’re touched by his words, even if you wouldn’t really mind it if you ended up hunkered down in the basement with him overnight. He ushers you down a dimly lit hallway, long and narrow with identical little cubicle-like offices flanking both walls. Even with the offices empty, the cramped atmosphere made you feel tense and claustrophobic; something about the dark, empty windows and the uncanny silence gave you the creeps. Kai doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, however, hands in his pockets and his head held high as he leads you to the very end of the hallway, stopping at a scuffed, unmarked wooden door. A keypad affixed to the adjacent wall blinks brightly in the dark.

“Is this the storage closet you were talking about?” You ask, eyeing the door oddly. “It doesn’t look like a closet at all. Why’s it got a keypad?”

“It used to be a server room, I think. Long before I started working here. The old equipment is all still there.” Kai responds airily, plugging in the code for the keypad. “Now it’s just used to store stuff we don’t need. Only my department has access to it, though; expensive computers and whatnot. After last year’s Christmas party I helped put away everything, and I stored it all in here ‘cos I was too lazy to carry it to the attic.”

“We have an attic?”

“...Yes and no. There’s nothing up there that you want.” The keypad beeps and the little blinking red light turns green. Kai pulls the door open and gestures for you to step inside. 

There’s no windows in the old server room, you quickly realize; when the door swings shut behind the two of you, you’re plunged into complete blackness. You search blindly in the dark for the light switch, but Kai locates it with ease, switching it on with a soft click and flooding your senses with blinding fluorescent light. You have to blink hard a couple of times to adjust, your eyes squinting and watering as they slowly acclimate and take in your surroundings. Against each wall countless boxes are stacked up nearly to the ceiling, each one filled to the brim with dusty paperwork and ancient electronics, wires spilling over the sides. You spot a line of folding chairs leaned up against a filing cabinet, a ladder and an old printer. As Kai had mentioned earlier, numerous server racks filled up the room, abandoned and far too outdated to be of any use anymore. They were pushed aside like walls of a maze, creating a rough pathway through all of the junk just wide enough for you and Kai to stand shoulder to shoulder. You swallow down the lump in your throat and place your purse on an old desk, Kai copying you close behind. 

You can still hear the storm outside, even down here. The wind howls and whips around viciously, the rain sounding like a barrage of a thousand tiny bullets.

“There should be some stuff in the back,” Huening Kai murmurs, squeezing past you to make his way through the mountains of stuff. His chest brushes against your back as he moves past, and you can feel the firm planes of his pecs through the thin material of his button down shirt. “Tablecloths and ribbons and things. I’m pretty sure I hid them all back here so I wouldn’t get in trouble.”

You laugh airily, a little too distracted to pay much attention to what he was saying. “You? In trouble? I don’t think Yeonjun has the heart.”

Kai shrugs and breaks the tape seal on a random cardboard box, peering inside for a moment before shaking his head and placing it aside. “You’d be surprised. He’s still putting on a show for the new girl— you haven’t been around long enough to see what he’s really like. By the way, how are you liking it so far? Getting the hang of things?”

You should probably be looking around yourself, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the way the muscles in his back ripple through his shirt as he digs through boxes. “I, um. I’m still figuring it out, but I’m getting better. Thank you for your help, really— I appreciate it.”

The storm grows even louder outside, to the point that it’s beginning to frighten you. You don’t think you’ve ever heard of a building caving in from just a bad thunderstorm, but Yeonjun’s joke still rings in your ears; there’s a first for everything. 

If Kai notices that you haven’t moved away from the door, he doesn’t mention it. “You don’t need to thank me! I’m happy to help, really. Don’t be afraid to ask for help anytime you need it, Y/N. All you need to do is ask— you can always count on me.” He moves on to another box, still searching in vain for those decorations. “Who’s your favorite coworker? If you have one, I mean— ah, that’s a stupid question. It’s probably Beomgyu.”

Kai’s tone changes suddenly, from bright and friendly to something darker, something you couldn’t quite place. You’ve never seen Kai sound like that before, and it vanishes as fast as it came. He looks over his shoulder at you and gives you a smile, and you’re half convinced that you made it up. 

“What do you mean?” you prod, cocking your head. 

Kai’s silent for an awkward moment, seemingly weighing the question with a bite to the inside of his cheek and a quick aversion of his eyes. “Well, he’s your friend, right? From college. And I’ve heard that you spend time together outside of work, going out to bars and whatever. And, I mean… I see you with him every day, talking with him and laughing at his jokes. I thought you were together for a while, actually, with how he’s always looking at you. With his stupid perfect face and his stupid perfect hair—”

You’re not really sure how to process that. “Kai… actually, my favorite coworker is you. I thought it was obvious.”

His head spins around so fast you’re afraid it’s going to fly right off. His big brown eyes are wide in shock. “Wait, what?! Really?!”

“Yes, really.” you giggle. “I thought you knew that, silly. Beomgyu’s my friend and all, but he gets on my nerves all the time. Kind of like a kid brother, I guess. You’ve been just so sweet to me when nobody else really has, and you’ve made me feel so welcome… It really means a lot.”

Kai’s face turns an adorable shade of bright pink, from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. “Oh. Well. Um. Thank you, I—” he looks away sharply, lowering his head to study the boxes again. His long bangs fall to cover his eyes, shielding the emotions that swirled in their dark chocolate depths. “I’m glad you feel that way… I can’t seem to find any of these stupid decorations, I’m worried we’re not going to be able to make it out of here before the power goes—” 

Flicker.

Pop.

You’re plunged into complete and total darkness. 

“—out.”

Kai straightens up sharply, or at least you’re pretty sure he did— you can’t even see your hands inches from your face. You screw your eyes shut and you see no difference, blind to everything except the cacophonous howling of the wind. 

“Shit!” Kai curses, the first time you’ve ever heard him do so. “Hold on, I can get us out of here—”

There’s a loud crash to your right. Kai must have run into one of those server racks trying to find his way around; you can hear him cursing under his breath as he stumbles around blindly, shuffling back to you one careful step at a time. The banging and crashing gets closer and closer, until it’s far too close— you open your mouth to warn him, but Kai barrels right into you before you could get a word out. He nearly knocks you to the ground, but his outstretched arms catch you before you fall. One arm wraps itself around your waist and the other… grabs a fat fistful of your breast. 

“Sorry!” Kai yelps, and it seems he doesn’t even notice just exactly where his hands had ended up, his hands large and warm and squeezing your flesh a little too tightly. The heat from his skin seeps through the material of your blouse and bra and floods your senses, erupts a fire in your chest that rushes straight down between your legs. 

As unwelcome as the feeling is, you can’t fight it off.

“Um, Kai.” you stutter, biting your lip to keep your voice as unassuming as possible. “That’s… that’s my boob.”

Kai tears his hands away as if he were touching hot coals, and much to your dismay you find yourself instantly craving his touch again. “I’m so sorry!!” he repeats in a rush of jumbled words, his usually deep voice a couple octaves higher. You’re sure his handsome face is glowing crimson red, and distantly you wish that the lights were on so you could see it. “I–I, I didn’t mean to, I swear!” 

“I know you didn’t, don’t worry,” you reassure him, reaching out yourself to help him right himself and walk past you to the door. You can hear him pressing buttons frantically on the keypad, but the device doesn’t beep or flash any lights. He curses again and slams his fist against the wall, the loud thud echoing throughout the quiet dark room. 

“We’re stuck in here.” Kai mutters to you in dismay. 

You blanche. “What do you mean we’re stuck in here?!”

“The door automatically locks itself when it closes and the keypad is the only thing that unlocks it… and it turned off when the power went out. It’s alright though! The backup generator should turn on any minute now!” 

The two of you stand around in silence for a long, extremely awkward moment. The backup generator does not turn on. 

“Okay, or not.” Kai gripes. “That’s fine. This is fine. We’ll get out of here somehow— here, let me turn on my phone’s flashlight—” 

He rummages around in his pockets noisily before making a triumphant little giggle; you anticipate seeing the little flashlight on his cellphone turn on and finally illuminate the all-encompassing dark, but the light never comes. 

“...And my phone’s dead. Great. Just great.” 

“You really need to get better about charging that thing.” You quip sarcastically. “How many times have you asked to borrow my charger? I only bring it now because I know you’ll need it.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t— wait, really? Just for me?” 

You don’t answer, your cheeks flaring up from the confession you didn’t mean to let slide. “My phone should still have a charge.” You tell him, an attempt to change the subject. “But I left it in my purse. I think I remember where I put it… let me try and grab it.” 

Carefully, you begin to shuffle your way towards the far right corner of the room, where you’re at least partially confident that the desk was. Kai follows you closely, his hands balancing on your shoulders to keep the both of you steady. It was a fine idea at first, when the two of you were making good headway, but you didn’t get very far at all before you’re once again losing your balance.

You barely manage a few short steps before one of your kitten heels catches on something rolling around on the ground; Kai must have knocked over a few boxes on his way over to you, little plastic bulbs that feel an awful lot like Christmas ornaments, the ones that Kai had put there when he wasn’t supposed to. You trip and stumble, but you probably could have caught yourself easily if it wasn’t for Kai’s big tall body tripping and stumbling right with you. The both of you come crashing down to the floor, your sharp gasp drowned out by Kai’s loud, girly shriek right into your ear. He squishes you against the cold linoleum, his chest pressed against your back and keeping you pinned down, hips flush against your ass. You try to wriggle free, but Kai is just too heavy, completely motionless and oddly silent as he breathes quick and hard against the back of your neck. “Oh my god, Huening Kai, you oaf, get off me!” you whine, attempting in vain to push yourself up onto your knees. The movement makes your hips swivel against Kai’s own, akin to a bucking horse trying to unseat its rider, and that’s when you feel it. 

Your pencil skirt has ridden up so high that your entire ass is exposed, covered up only by your underwear and pantyhose, and you can feel every inch of Kai’s hardening dick press up against you as if there were no clothes between the two of you at all. You can feel everything, the weight and the curve of it, slotted perfectly between your asscheeks like it belonged there. The way it twitches violently in his slacks when you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers quietly, his head buried in your shoulder, voice wobbly like he was going to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” It’s just then do you register his hands on your hips, touching you so intimately, steadfast in their movements rubbing up and down your ass and thighs despite the way he was shaking like a leaf. He’s never been this close before, his body so sculpted and masculine against you. His soft plump lips ghost over the exposed skin of your collarbone and wafts of his musky cologne cloud your senses. You shouldn’t do this, you should remain professional… but you’ve wanted Huening Kai more than you’ve ever wanted any other man, since you first laid eyes on him, and having him pressed up against you so helpless and vulnerable has destroyed your control and reason. All you can think about is that Kai wanted you too, and the proof was straining against the fly of his pants begging to be freed. 

You roll your hips back against him slowly, as if not to startle him— the broken moan that falls from those kissable lips is downright obscene, whiny and desperate, shooting hot sparks of pleasure down your body to your core. 

“A-ah, did you, um— Y-you didn’t mean to d-do that, right?” Kai murmurs in a small voice. His cock grows even harder against you. 

You can’t take it anymore; in Kai’s dazed state you manage to pull yourself up from underneath him and spin around to reach out wildly in his general direction. One of your fists manages to wrap around his tie, and with a sharp tug Kai’s lips come crashing down onto yours. His lips are soft and pillowy against your own, tasting a little sweet, like the tea with milk and honey he enjoys drinking while he works. His panting breath tickles your skin, his fingers coming up to card through your hair as you both open your mouths and breathe each other in. Your bodies press together heatedly, hands roaming everywhere you could reach, groping and pushing and pulling, desperate to get closer even if it was impossible. Kai’s other hand slides down your back to cup your ass, squeezing the plush flesh between his fingers. Swathed in all this darkness, it was easy to forget that you weren’t dreaming. 

You’ve never kissed or been kissed quite like this before. 

“Does that answer your question?” You giggle when you part for air. Kai pants hotly into your mouth like a thirsty dog before descending down upon you to recapture your lips himself. 

This kiss is even more heated than the last, Kai prying your lips apart to deepen the passion with his teeth and tongue. You wish you could see, could admire the sharp tic of his jaw as he kisses you, lose yourself in his beautiful brown eyes. Bear some witness to something you had been confident would never happen. You can feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, blood rushing in your ears to drown out the storm as you both fumble with each other's clothes. Kai’s hands move to cup your tits, squeezing harshly when you slide your hand down his chest and belly to catch on his belt buckle. It’s a hassle to unfasten in the dark, but you manage to tear both his belt and fly open and fish his hot throbbing cock out of his boxers. You wrap your hand around it, so fat your fingers barely connect— Kai lets out a strangled whine as you stroke up his shaft to thumb at his tip, thick globs of precum wetting your hand. 

Kai’s hands come back to your breasts, but this time on purpose; he gropes and squeezes greedily, pressing the flesh together before letting them bounce back into place. Just one of his hands is enough to cover the entirety of your tit, your bra doing nothing to hide the way your nipples harden and beg for his attention. He pinches and rolls them between his fingers through your shirt, the sensation too much and not enough at the same time. 

“T-take it off!” he grits out against your lips, fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. “Please, gotta feel—”

An affirming hum is all he needs. He tears your blouse open with a strength you didn’t know he had, the fabric ripping loudly and the buttons popping off. Roughly he pulls your bra down just enough for your breasts to fall out, heated flesh and hard nipples pebbling in the cold air. Kai quickly warms them up with his fingers, tugging and rolling your beds between his thumbs and forefingers, the pleasure making you keen wantonly. 

“Kai! That shirt was expensive!” you complain, but you stroke his twitching cock even faster; you couldn’t find it within yourself to care much about anything that wasn’t Kai’s hands on you, and as much as you enjoyed listening to him get embarrassed you didn’t want him stopping again to apologize any more than he already has. 

“Couldn’t help it, just love your tits,” Kai groans, letting go of your nipples to grope and massage the fat mounds of your breasts. His grip gets tighter with every flick of your wrist, his breath fanning over you in short airy pants. “Fuck, you’re so sexy, it makes me insane. Running around in those tight tops and those short little skirts, I just want to— a-anh!— f-fuck you all the time!”

“Kai,” you plead, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the searing heat growing between them. 

“I wish I could see you right now,” he continues, and you jump at the sudden electric sensation of a hot wet tongue sliding against your nipple. “I could probably cum just from how hot you look— God, I’ve been wanting to do this forever.”

His plump, spit-slick lips seal themselves around your hard bud, his hands continuing to play with your chest as he sucks and nibbles. You cry out high in your throat, letting go of his twitching cock to crumple your fist in his shirt. Your pussy aches to be touched, dripping so much slick that you’re sure you’ve completely ruined your panties. Kai's fingers and mouth are better than anything you’ve ever felt before, good enough to make you cum from just this alone, you’re sure, but the cavernous hunger that’s developed within you desperately, wildly, primally demands more.

“Touch me!” you beg him, pulling him impossibly closer, right where you need him most. “Kai, please touch me!”

Kai gives your nipple one last tug between his teeth before pulling off with a pop, leaving your breasts covered in his spit and erupting in goose flesh from the frigid air. Slowly and carefully he crawls himself between your open legs, sliding his fingers underneath your bunched up skirt. He runs a fingertip down the gusset of your panties, just the ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to make you keen in delight. “You’re so wet,” he laments, sounding utterly ruined, two thick fingers rubbing your weeping pussy lips over the lace, circling your clit until you mewl, “Made a mess in your panties… Did I really make you this wet? That’s so fucking hot…”

He relinquishes his finger, and you’re not sure what you were expecting next, but it definitely wasn’t for him to grab ahold of your pantyhose and underwear and tear them from your body in one powerful yank. The nylon and lace rip like paper, the ghastly sound ringing in your ears, and Kai tosses the shredded fabric to the side along with your buttons before positioning himself to kneel between your thighs.

“I’ll do more than touch you if you’ll let me,” he whispers in your ear, running his hand up your inner thigh, leaving behind a burning trail in it’s wake, “I wanna fuck you so bad, baby, please, can I? I’ll buy you new clothes, I’ll do anything you want, just let me ruin you…”

“We don’t have a condom…” you breathe, but you widen your legs to give him more room anyway. Usually that would be a deal-breaker for you, but you’ve already done more in this closet than you would have ever even dreamed of doing. 

“I'll pull out, I promise.” Kai's voice is far too soothing for your own good, those terrible, god-sent big hands grabbing ahold of the back of your knees to expose you even further. You can hardly think at all anymore, too focused on the throbbing need swirling deep in your pussy, and how good it would feel if you would take the risk and just let go.

“Please…” is all you can manage to say, and with a delighted groan, Huening folds your legs up to rest on his shoulders and positions his weeping cock at your entrance. It feels so filthy, with your torn-up pantyhose still clinging to your legs and your heels hanging from your toes, and once again you wish that you could see just how lewd of a sight the two of you were.

Kai slides his cock up and down between your folds, getting his shaft nice and wet with your juices. His bulbous cockhead bumps deliciously against your clit before gliding back down to your entrance, pressing against the rim of your hole just enough to tease before letting up and doing it again. As hot as it is and as good as it feels, you can’t handle any teasing anymore, not when you’ve been on the edge and in need of release for this long.

“Put it in!” you cry, and you can hardly recognize your own voice. You sound so needy, so pornographic— it would be humiliating if you weren’t this far gone. “Please, please, need you s’bad, Kai, need your cock…”

Kai shushes you with an unexpectedly chaste kiss, sweet and gentle and nothing at all like the way he was thrusting himself inside of your tight wet heat like an animal. The stretch burns so good you bite his shoulder to keep from screaming, his cock longer and fatter than any you’ve ever taken before. For a delirious moment you worry that he’ll tear you in half, that he won’t fit, your walls clenching down on him like a vice as he forces his way deeper and deeper, until his tip kisses your cervix and his balls slap wetly against your ass.

“S-so big…” you slur against his skin, clawing weakly at his shoulders. Your mouth is slack and drooling and your mind was blank of everything except for how impossibly full you feel. 

“Is it too much?” Kai asks nervously, back to his sweet anxious self for a split second. “I’m so sorry, sweetie, I couldn’t stop myself, your pussy’s sucking me in—”

“Nooo! It feels so goo–o–ood!” you mewl dumbly, finding it harder and harder to string a sentence together the longer Kai’s inside of you. “Need more, Hyuka! Give it to me!” 

The innocent nickname makes him moan, and just like you wanted and pleaded for he begins to fuck you in sincere earnest. His thrusts are fast and brutal, lit by a deep, primal fire you had no idea he possessed. It knocks the wind out of you, overwhelmed in the best possible way, your mouth falling slack and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull, moaning in delight every time his cock spears your cervix.

“Deep! So f-fucking deep!” you hiccup breathlessly, surrendering yourself completely to the onslaught of red-hot pleasure. You can feel him in your belly, right under your navel, your wet little pussy squelching obscenely with every movement of Kai's hips. He finds your sweet spot with shocking ease, angling his cock to drag against that spongey bundle of nerves and make you gush. 

“Yeah?” he croons, thrusting himself inside of you impossibly harder, faster, “Feels so good, huh? Fuck, this pussy’s so fucking wet, so fucking tight— best cunt i’ve ever had, baby, feels better than I ever imagined…! Can’t let you go now, perfect girl, all for me. This perfect pussy’s all mine, you hear, no one else's!”

He recaptures your pert nipple between his lips, suckling even rougher than before; your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, sensitive flesh jiggling in his face as he trails his teeth and tongue across the planes of your cleavage, leaving dusky love bites in his wake. He slobbers over your tits like a hungry dog, his moans and whines muffled by your nipples he takes turns slurping them up into his mouth. The pangs of pleasure from your sore nipples combined with Kai's quickening pace and filthy words tug you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy, the fiery hot tsunami building deep within your belly threatening to overflow and toss you into its euphoric depths.

“God, I love you,” kai admits as he continues to babble nonsense, seemingly not noticing just what was coming out of his mouth, “I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long, needed you  so bad— my pretty girl, so beautiful, I wanna see your face when you cum. You’ve gotta look so sexy when you cum.”

Your heart clenches along with your cunt. 

There is nothing you can see, but there is plenty you can hear— Kai’s hips clapping against your ass, his beautiful broken whimpering, the slick sounds of your pussy gushing around his cock. You open your mouth to speak, voice the mounting ecstasy that built steadily in your throbbing cunt, but you can’t seem to get out anything other than shrill, pathetic cries of pleasure. Your mind was wiped completely blank, nothing but static behind your eyes, thoughts filled with nothing except the pressure in your core and how good it would feel if you let it consume you.

“I’m gonna cum!” you wail, using up all your energy into making yourself speak— Kai groans happily, his thrusts turning desperate and sloppy, speeding up to pound your sweet spot into oblivion.

“Yes! Fuck yes, cum with me, angel, come on. You can do it.” He coos into your ear, voice shaking as his body jolts and shudders above you. His hands come down to press hard on your engorged, sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles against the throbbing bud. “That’s it, make a mess, cum all over my cock!” 

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking from overwhelming pleasure as you pulsate and gush around him. You recognize distantly that you’re squirting, droplets of viscous liquid splashing all over your tummy and thighs, drenching Huening’s own as well. His own climax is triggered by the violent pulsing of your gummy walls around him, and he wrenches out his cock from your quivering pussy just milliseconds before ropes and ropes of thick, sticky cum splatters hot and wet all over your heaving tits.

“Holy fuck.” Kai whispers, unable to catch his breath. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

You just giggle weakly, trying to calm down your racing heart yourself. The two of you lay against each other in silence for a moment basking in the afterglow while you both come down from your highs. Your orgasm sucked all the life force out of you, it seemed, leaving you weak and exhausted as you lay boneless on the cold storage closet floor.

And just like that, the lights turn back on. The vents begin to whir and suck out the hot, sweaty air, but the stench of sex still lingers. You’re nearly blindsided after spending so long in the dark, screwing up your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

Kai is staring right back at you.

His dark hair is wild and sticking out in all directions, eyes blown wide and his cheeks dusted pink. His tie is half-undone and his work shirt is terribly wrinkled, drenched in what you can only assume to be your juices. His softening cock lies against his thigh, poking out from his unzipped fly, slacks just as damp and ruined as his shirt was. His chest heaves with the force of his breaths, no doubt taking in your own appearance himself. You look down just enough to see your torn clothes, your cum stained breasts and wet thighs, your smart professional outfit looking like it was ravaged by some sort of rabid animal.

“You look beautiful.” Kai whispers in rapture. 

“Um.” you respond smartly, cheeks burning. Averting your eyes you check the door; the keypad is blinking cheerfully at you, as if it had never turned off in the first place. It’s just then that you realize you can’t hear the storm anymore. The worst must have ended while you were occupied with other things.

“Do… you want to keep looking for those decorations?” Kai prods gently. You shoot him a quizzical glare.

“I want to go home.” you grumble lightheartedly. “I don’t give a damn about that stupid party anymore. I’ll just ask Yeonjun for his credit card.”

Kai smiles, that signature smile that gives you even more butterflies now than it ever did before. “That’s what I was hoping you were going to say. Does my home work for you? We can watch a movie and get takeout. Or, I mean, you don’t have to, we can just leave and go our separate ways and—”

“I’d love to.” you snicker, leaning forward to steal a kiss. “Should we take separate cars, though? It would be suspicious if we showed back up tomorrow together.”

“We’ll be sneaky about it. We’re good at that.”

©BAMBIIHEE 2025. all rights reserved.

[corroding-time]

I gotchu bro @randompoint222 - sorry for tagging, can’t reply atm.

part two to this

gentleman top male reader x horny boyfriend. nsfw.

-

So let’s say you finally get the hint - or maybe not. I bet he has to outwardly and directly tell you. Straight up confront you because his subtle coy techniques and methods weren’t working at all. It’d go something like this:

The two of you’d just be cuddling, after another one of his attacks to try and provoke you. You might be scrolling on your phone, or doing your work, he’s holding tight to you and staring off to the distance, spacing out. Then he’d suddenly snap his head towards you. “Babe.” He’d say. You look at him and ask what.

“Let’s have sex.”

You cough and sputter, choking on air. Did he really have to say it so directly? “You didn’t understand any of my advances…” he pouts. “So I thought the best way to get what I want is to be upfront.”

And of course you agree, because you never refuse your boyfriend.

-

Sex with you was so… uninteresting.

His heart thumped with excitement as he thought- would you be rough? Would you be harsh? Unrelenting with him that even when he begs you to stop, you keep going? He was hoping to see a meaner, feral side to you.

But to his shock, you were as kind as normal- if anything, even kinder. He was disappointed. He thought that everyone has a different side to them during sex. But you… You were all prim and proper, using a generous amount of lube, wearing a condom, prepping him nice and thoroughly. You entered gently, so slowly. You held him like glass. Wouldn’t move until he was comfortable- and when he lied that he was, you grabbed his face, squishing it and telling him to stop lying. That was the ‘roughest’ you had been with him, ever. You held him close, going at a pace that would pleasure him but not hurt him. And that was the worst part- you were still so considerate- always going out of your way to accommodate him. Always in positions that he wouldn’t get hurt in, probing and poking places that would give him most pleasure, making sure he was ok. When you started off, he thought he wouldn’t get anything from this.

But for some reason, he didn’t know why, he loved it.

He came very shortly after you entered him, he had never felt so… full. It has been a while since the last time he had vanilla sex… He begged you to continue and you did. Every time he came, you’d stop after he seemed done, caressing him and wiping the sweat off of him, pushing his hair back and kissing him and telling him how much you loved him and that if he wanted to stop, you would, then switch positions every time he told you to keep going. He started crying tears halfway through from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was feeling- it was always a mix of pain and pleasure, he never knew it could just be pleasure. You stop and worriedly wipe his tears, but he pleads that you continue.

After a while, you stopped humoring him and said it was enough. As you pull away and out, he grabs you and begs you not to. You kiss his forehead, telling him that he was clearly tired and that it wasn’t good for him. He was trembling all over, eyes hazy, body weak and obviously out of it.

He reluctantly let you pull out- and he realized. You never changed the condom, not once. “Babe! You didn’t cum even once! Was I… not good enough for you?” He bit his lower lip as his eyes started tearing up again, this time out of hurt. You kiss him and tell him no, don’t ever say that, he was perfect and you didn’t deserve him. Reassuring that you did feel immense pleasure, it’s just that you wanted to focus on him tonight. He frowned, but seeing how rock hard and how much you were leaking when you took off the condom, he knew you were telling the truth. When he insisted he get you off, you refused, saying he was going to pass out any moment, given the toll cumming so many times had taken on his body. As you take him to the bathroom, he can’t help but feel bad. One of the goals tonight was to see you come undone. He was hoping to see how you would look and act when you were out of it. Next time, he thought. Next time he’d be sure to get you to cum.

He was already planning the next advance to get you worked up.

[camiene]

affection behind a curtain - w. magical staff x reader

fluff, tension, strictly cutesy and weirdly awkward gift for @pearlescentparade + his followers

w. magical staff is thrown off guard by your constant persistence; thus his interest in piqued. determined to find out what you really want, he comes close to figuring you out. ...but not in a way that he expects. wk :: 3.4k a/n :: at the end

god, his eyebrow twitching, and out was a murmur. 

he pinches the bridge of his nose, irritated by a dilemma. an obvious dilemma, but a catastrophe nonetheless. who knew a person could be the cause of his stress? 

with the lengthy name of winged magical staff, or alternatively—wing, is a man full of deceit. phighters never knew it, nor did he do it with ill intent, but he was an incredible liar. take it as his icebreaker. he's witty, quick with words, and it was his life's work. and as his life's work, why would he ever shy away from it? 

each vowel that came from his mouth was wrinkled with perfection. saying the exact string of syllables that people like to hear, minimal yet calculated body language, fake laughter and smiles... it was all flawlessly orchestrated. 

so orchestrated, in fact, to the point where it became a subconscious for wing. it was complimentary to his life, and he finds himself lying in everyday conversations. 

conversations that didn't pertain to his career, conversations that didn't need a fib. he's in awe, and realizes the drawback of the faulty lifestyle. lying became second nature.

'course, he found it unnecessary, but his mouth is faster than his brain. all he could do now is laugh it off and continue with his life, because what can you do? tell the truth and expose yourself as a pathological liar? he wouldn't get a job anywhere!

so there he stands, on the streets of crossroads, dangling between the liar's tongue and a hero's sincerity. 

that is... until you came along. 

** 

the two of you met on a mere thursday, a day where wing was on "duty". something along the lines of collecting information from suspects through interrogations. but, nobody really knew that. to many, it looked like small talk and get-togethers rather than investigation. and that's how he likes it. or well, any "detective" would like it that way. the anonymity, the greatest cover-ups, it wasn't foreign to him. he was used to perfection, his motif of excellence. 

but when interviewing you, it was honestly the most suspicious conversation he's ever had. 

you kept dismissing questions, answering them as quickly as possible, and instead asked him some of your own. 

questions such as where he got his clothes from, or what trends he was into, such mindless nonsense! he couldn't understand any of it.

'course if it was actually everyday conversation, he'd be more than willing to cooperate with your silly quirks, but it was all too convenient. suddenly asking about normal, or what can be perceived as normal, things right after being interviewed? 

wing knew his methods of interviewing were slick, under the radar, but they could still guarantee a good response. responses that said a lot about an inphernals and be translated into data. but with responses like, "yeah... blue... anyway, what's your favorite this, do you like the cafe at that spot, did you like it when this thing was on air?" it was torture!

yet all he could do was smile and give answers he thought you'd like. despite his shock and irritation, the predetermined words already came out of his mouth. agreeing and giving half truths to everything you asked. if you were as suspicious as you came out to be, he couldn't bare anything to get found out. his precious work of keeping crossroads together would fall apart and he'd be, oh, so sad. 

...or something along those lines.

nonetheless, he couldn't let you get too close. anyone who suspected him is someone he should stray away from, no matter their intention. even if you simply were interested in small topics related to him, what would you get out of it? it's a question he couldn't wrap his head around.

and it's also a question he'd have to dismiss until later. he's a busy man, and he has to focus on other knicks and knacks about his life. hopefully when he's all busy with work and miscellaneous jobs, he'd forget all about you for the greater good.  **

he did not forget all about you.

wing shuffles through the loose notes in his bag and eventually finds what he's looking for. ah-hah! a note directly addressed for banhammer—signed cleanly with wing's signature. or well, his alias. 

on the low, as young inphernals call it nowadays, wing is a promising man who always carries information with him. information that can help with solving crimes, mysteries, you name it. matter of fact, he helped a months-long case on a criminal by giving a vague tip to the station once and scurried away in triumph. justice well delivered, he thought that day.

so ever since then, he's been dropping tips here and there to banhammer. happily writing with passion and coming up with different alias to hide his true identity. winged magical staff, or also known as pearl, parade, escent in his notes, would never be figured out. a perfect plan! 

in the midst of his extraordinary plan and scheming, he bumps into someone with a harsh shove.

"oh, gosh, i'm so sorry. i wasn't paying attention and--... ah." 

maybe the inpherno is a small place after all.

"ughhff... uuaahh..." you rub your shoulder where the collision was hit. for a soft looking guy, he hits hard. wonder how he is on the battlefield. "ow. no, really. it's fine... just a typical frid..... dd.... oh, oh!"

wing could only twitch a smile. he couldn't believe the person he'd been trying to ignore is now in front of him. what do you want? are you after him for realsies now? 

"wow, wing! hi!!" your voice is excited as ever, reminiscent of the first time you two met. "sorry i haven't been seeing you as much-- or actually, i should say sorry for bumping into you. i was totally zoned out, just came from a party haha."

a party, hm? 

this might be the first time you gave valuable intel on yourself. no quick one liners, no dodging questions... it was perfect. if all he had to do was catch you off guard by accidental touch, he would throw you into a wall by now. kidding! (mostly). 

"it's okay, i should've been looking at the road." his grin turns into a warmer one, a smile that welcomes guests at the door with complimentaries. how kind. "you said a party? it's kind of early to be leaving." he says, taking in the sunny warmth on his face. it's not so cold either. "don't they usually end at dawn?"

his eyes were closed, but he could guess the frantic look from your face. your awkward ah's and uhm's alongside the shuffling of your clothes. 

"hahaha, nahh... i'm the weird one who needed some fresh air. the party's still going though." your hands mess with the collar of your shirt, thumbs grazing the fabric. think it's polyester... or maybe cotton. you never pay attention to the tags. "too much booze, you know what i mean? felt like i was going to throw up."

can't handle liquor, presumably low energy person at gatherings... you've made yourself all too easy for him. 

"ohh." he coos, tilting his head as his curiosity perks up. what could make a seemingly normal inphernal question someone like him? he wasn't obvious, every lie was perfectly crafted—it didn't make any sense. come to think of it, could he be overreacting? maybe he misremembered your interaction, read it too closely. 

"your friends okay too? i mean, i've heard of a lot of parties where inphernals get in trouble. had to make a ton of calls one night." he laughs, but that is the truth. it was a tough night and he never wanted to hit the bed more than that day.  

you almost sound surprised. "wow... you sound older when you talk like that. n-not saying that caring about others is only for old people— i mean, uh, how do i say this. you sound mature!"

".....mat...ure..?" wing could almost cringe at the awkward exchange, but he only chuckles. one that was made genuinely or not, it didn't matter when the sound overtook his body. "what-- haha, hahaha—" it's like a hiccup in his throat, and he feels the crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. 

you turn to him with a dumbfounded look, mouth slightly parted as you take in the sight. the embarrassment you previously had is now gone, nowhere to be seen. and instead, it's replaced with a continuation of his laughter. you're laughing with him! 

"ah, haha, i'm so sorry. i don't— i don't know what came over me." he wipes a droopy eye, coughing as he regains his posture. "i just didn't expect you to say that. you said i sounded old??"

he hears your frantic excuses, words scrambling to find the right diction, and hands flailing around. given any other scenario, he'd find it obnoxious. it's just a mishap with some teasing, why make a big deal out of it?

however, instead of feeling bothered, he almost feels charmed. 

"no, no! that's not what i- oh, wing! you're pulling my leg here." you softly punch him in the shoulder, getting a weak wince of pain. nothing serious of course, mere child's play. "i was trying to compliment you-- but it came out super duper wrong- and i... ugh. sorry. it sounds lame, i know."

wing rubs the area that you "injured" him, just to add to the flair. "it's okay, really. don't beat yourself over it."

"you're right..” you hum. "it's just been a long day- oh! right! my friends are doing alright, it's not like a rave in there. last time i checked, some inphernals were sober to look after the house."

"and if they're not?"

"well.... i'll be there." you rub the back of your head, awkwardly defending yourself. wing didn't want to pry, but parties are no joke. the crossroads is a busy hub, and even busier at night. especially if boombox was invited, oh no. 

"b-but after i sit down. that reminds me- i came out here to rest but i ran into you, haha!"

he hums, your reaction gets more and more sensitive as time goes on. you didn't seem like such a nervous wreck prior, could it really be the fatigue? he couldn't have you passing out on the ground. wing may be a dashing liar, but he has empathy. 

"then forgive me for making you stand for..." he pauses, and then thinks for a moment. the warmth on his face is dimmer now, and that's his cue for how long it's been. "nearly twenty minutes. here, i'll sit with you."

"—wwhhhatt!! nono, it's okay! you don't need to--"

but before another anxious-ridden reply, wing drags you to a bench nearby. so convenient.

** 

the breeze feels welcoming to the both of you. the afternoon drifting into evening, and the sun sleeping away.

it feels perfect. hanging out late with a familiar, with another warm body. some may say it brings comfort, reliability, and safety. and it's true, wing admits. while crossroads isn't a dangerous central hub, it still gets scary at night. or well, maybe that's just everywhere, he thinks. 

however, instead of being comfortable, wing felt rather—uncomfortable.

sitting next to you had this unnerving tension, more than before. at first, the tension was one sided from wing and even then...it was mostly just uncertainty. but now, the anticipation made his mouth dry with questions.

why were you suddenly averting gazes and sitting further than expected? why did it seem like you were avoiding him? was it really that embarrassing for him to stay with you? it's getting dark! staying with a stranger who's alone at night isn't weird! 

swallowing his pride and what he thinks (no, knows) is the just thing to do, he turns to you and pats your shoulder. you twitch as he opens his mouth to speak. 

"...are you okay? i mean, to go back to your party. you look out of it." nice save.

he felt your nervous laughter rise in your throat, only to be cut short by a brief pause. a caesura. 

"i'm okay, no really. it's just," you bite your lip, unsure of how to clarify. "how do i say this..." 

"well, let's backtrack. what are you trying to sa--" 

"—i've lied to you, wing."

his heart nearly stops, and his head perks up to see you. no, to see you. 

he didn't expect you to give up and reveal your intentions so quickly. could it be guilt? for lying to a person you barely knew? it's a possibility, maybe you have really high morale. some inphernals break with little to no pressure, and maybe the kind gesture from him made a crack. something like, 'wow! this guy is actually nice and kind. i feel bad for lying to him because i know everything about him!' 

though... that's a bit far fetched. so instead, he gulps and steadies his breathing. 

"...uh. what do you mean?" is all he says.

you turn to face him, your gaze finally meeting his lashes. and you feel bothered, so bothered. the anxiety growing in your chest is giving out, and the vowels out of your mouth come undone.

huffing a breath, "i... i didn't come out here for fresh air. or well, i did-- but that's not the only reason."

wing nods slowly, not out of agreement, but more so confusion. he can't ever get a good impression on you, and this is making it worse. "okay.. then why?"

"i came-- i came out here to try and find you. i just got lucky and saw you as soon as i walked out the door." 

try and find him? why? 

so many questions, and not enough mouth movement to say them all. if he tried to, it'd look like he vomited sounds and that's embarrassing. 

but why him? he's not a horrible liar. not even a bad liar. could it be the tips for banhammer? did he send in someone to find out who was giving the intel? oh, that'd be bad. he doesn't want too much attention on him.

"you needed to find me? for what?" he asks briefly. he says it quicker than expected, but his body is urging for your confession. he wants to know. his curiosity of the past few weeks-- the nagging ring in his ear, he wants it to stop. and this conversation could make it happen. 

"because i wanted to..." here it is, the money shot! the showstopper, the great value of information, it's— 

"i wanted to apologize to you." 

what?

"huh?"

your smile is apparent, and you fidget with the ends of your shirt. "yeah, i wanted to say sorry for being really obnoxious when we first met. i shouldn't have been in your face like that... not cool of me."

"oh... no, i..." his lips are slightly parted, and he doesn't know what to say. for once, his head is empty and he's speechless. 

"i was trying to... haha, get to know you. i wanted to try and be friends with you since, y'know. i thought you were kinda pretty. b-but not in a weird way, you looked... ah... approachable!" 

pre...

pretty!!? 

"what--" his hand flies to his mouth, covering it. your abrupt compliment wasn't something he could predict, and his words are faster than his mind. wing could understand the apology. you were invasive, that's no joke. and it's not like he hasn't been described as inviting before either. in fact, he aims to be called that. practically expects it at this point.  

but you thinking he's simply pretty after all the (one sided) drama is-- is absurd!

wing isn't a complete loser when it comes to friendship, but he still finds it surprising. 'course, he'd never befriend a stranger on the spot. he's had his fair share of hangouts for "work", and a few laughs here and there... but could any of that be classified as true familiarity?

he thinks an outgoing person would disagree, saying it's not genuine and heartfelt. but when did wing and the word genuine go together? he knows that his natural talent (or more like a talent that wouldn't go away) could drive away any possible friends. who wants someone who could lie to you and speak it as truth? or, what wing thinks is worse, who wants to see him bare? vulnerable, nothing to hide behind. a raw image of his true self. 

"yeah, i was trying to ask about what you liked and all-- but i thought about it, and i realized how rude i was. i had to say sorry or else you'd hate me forever." you giggle, eyes darting to the floor. out of shame, discomfort? wing couldn't tell right now. 

but yes, it was rude. it was so, so rude. so incredibly rude, that it had him thinking about you for weeks! days, hours of him ignoring the thought of you. through countless interviews, a flashback to your head-strong attitude would appear. would you answer like this, would you push past him and pry, would you be okay with his face— stripped of its protective fiction? 

...why was he so fixated on what could happen with you?

come to think of it, in the back of his mind, it was always you. he hates to utter it, but you're like a leech in his brain. unmoving, incapable of being moved. as if he enjoyed the thought of you, and never wanted the memory of you to end.

"i get it if you don't wanna hangout after this. i'm not hurt or anything, and i'm not mad at y--"

"—no, no, that- that's okay." 

you blink, your words frozen with nerves. 

"it's fine. i..." 

he knows he should pull away. agree with you and walk off into the distance. to interview, collect intel, lie, pry, and do it all again. 

there's no way someone out there would want to get to know the real winged magical staff. sure, he can say that he's a lesser evil and keeping criminals out of sight, but those lies pile up. sooner or later, he'll step on his own toes and see nobody alongside him. joking, passing drinks, going out to eat, all of that would be gone.

yet he can't help but rekindle the faith he had long ago. the hope that company would invite him, not scare him. wing wants to hide away, run away from it all, but with you... 

he wants to try, just this time.

"i think hanging out with you is fun. you were... pushy at first, but i got a hunch that it wasn't intentional. you seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me." 

your arms feel heavy, and you couldn't believe what you were hearing. after days of bracing yourself for clear rejection, you feel shocked. a relief of sorts, yes, but shock nonetheless. 

"wait.. really? you don't have to lie to me--"

"—i'm not lying." he feels his tongue click. a sentence that was said too fast, too quick, and one that could give him away. all his hard work, all the cover-ups for any suspicion, and he's risking it all for you. a stupid, stupid inphernal like you. "i mean it."

"...oh. oh. okay. okay.. okay.....okay! well, if you really do," you practically spring back to life, like a fish back in water. your eyes light up, brighter than the slow sunset behind you, and it's radiant with energy. "i-i think you're fun to hang around with too! we can hangout whenever, i don't want you to feel pressured or anythin—"

he sighs, "it's alright, really. you don't need to worry." how many times has he said that now? wing should be a therapist by now.

"for real? oh. i mean-- yeah, pshh, of course. i, uh, are you free this..."

just before you could finish that sentence, your phone rings. 

apologizing profusely, you pick up and out came a ruckus of sounds. an angry voice that's almost incomprehensible due to loud music. it sounds like the typical soundtrack on a radio.

you whine, and your eyes kept switching to the other line and to him. wing could only grin, and leaned away from your warmth. he didn't know when the two of you got so close. 

"gotta go?" he says, almost like a whisper. but a giddy whisper. 

"yeah, i'll be right there. i'm sorry for leaving, i thought you guys got my text-- i do have to go.. sorry wing-- okay, hold on!" you get up from your seat, brushing off your pants and looking off into the distance. the direction to where the party is, he assumes. 

"don't apologize. i've been keeping you away from your party."

"wish you could've kept me away longer." you wink at him, only to get berated in your ear about drunk nonsense. something about... an inphernal stealing a house painting? 

"...huh?"

"okay, ireallygottagonow, i'll see you next weekend, yeah??!" you give him one last look, a longing gaze, and then run off. almost tripping on the way, but off you went. scurrying off like you were late to a courthouse. 

wing blanks out, and he's left unattended on a park bench. stranded, stripped away from a friend.

his new friend, to be exact.

a/n : can you tell the banner was made before i had wing's colors lmfao. thats hwo long it took to wrote this bruh ^^ i made that banner btw!! i got started on this fic in march and. barely finished it now. prob means i wont make a part 2 bc thats How Long it Took me but i'll see how things go also ive never wrote for phighting nor am i a mega fanatic for phighting ... i played it like five times ... so forgive me if some stuff is inaccurate

[batarangaroo]

please detail the bladder training I want to try it with my little

My daddy has two methods: hands-free and hands-on

Hands-free:

We've discussed how ridiculously down bad for my partner I am, yes? How handsome and quick and smart and funny and sweet and hot he is? All that wonderfulness has made me... a little fuzzy brained (and weak-bladdered) sometimes. In particular scenarios.

For example, when my daddy's on facetime with me and his camera starts to move up and down a little bit, my brain starts to melt a little bit.

When he pushes his head back against the pillow because he's making himself feel good, something in my bladder kinda pushes too.

When he turns his camera so I can see his hard cock straining against his boxer briefs, or his hand pumping, I black out a little bit with the knowledge that I'm the one turning him on.

When that happens, it feels a little like a mini orgasm for me. My core contracts but something down there stays relaxed.

I can't really control it, but when I see any of those things, everything tightens up, and I end up sitting in a puddle.

When my core contracts and I start to leak, sometimes I hunch over a little bit, like someone would move mid-orgasm. As soon as I can't see him, my daddy brings in phase two, which is his voice.

When he makes sounds like he's feeling good, or he's close to coming, I get all loosey goosey and little, and I can't control myself much at all.

After months of this, my daddy's implanted a kind of trigger in my brain. He can call me when I'm out with friends, leave a voice memo when I'm at work, or be on speaker phone in my car.

A few seconds of him breathing heavily, whimpering, and moaning in pleasure has me wetting my pants (or whatever I'm wearing) uncontrollably.

After a few instances of that (or many, depending on how sadistic and teasing my daddy decides to be), my bladder feels pretty weak. That's hands-free bladder training.

Hands-on:

This method happens in-person (though the other one can too), and anything involving my partner's hands on me is a game changer. It's also something much harder to resist, because he can physically force me to wet myself.

When we were just talking and flirting on Tumblr, before we even met, I told my daddy about an embarrassing thing. I told him that there's a spot inside of me that when I press on it, or massage with my fingers, I can't help but wet myself a little bit. We did some research and discovered it's my bladder I'm pressing on, basically, from inside my vagina.

When we started playing in-person, he really wanted to find that spot and use it to his advantage. A physical button, almost, that forces someone to wet themselves — who wouldn't want to use it? He got a lot of practice.

When my daddy starts touching me down there, I get very overwhelmed and needy very quickly. He has dextrous fingers and when he slips them inside of me, I kind of dissolve into whimpers and "please"-s.

When his fingers find that spot juuuuust inside me, on the front wall, they rub softly at first, teasing, and then hard.

When he feels my body clench up a bit, he slips his finger out from inside of me to lightly, gently tease my urethra. Something about that combination of pressure on my bladder and teasing on the outside makes me absolutely lose control.

My daddy has made me have a full accident on multiple occasions using that method. In my sweatpants after being a brat. With his hand down my diaper to prove me wrong after I claimed to be a big girl who doesn't need to use her diapers. As a blushy way to wake me up in the morning.

If you're doing this, be careful and communicate, because pee, like water, is not lube, and might make the rubbing uncomfortable. Be gentle and keep an eye on how you and your partner are feeling. We don't want anyone getting hurt or uncomfy during fun time blushy play time.

The combination of these methods have definitely sped up the process of my losing control, and they've been a really fun addition into our play. I especially like that my daddy uses the hands-off method from afar as a way to put me in my place and a way to reward me, interchangeably.

[enfernalinferno]

I love your saw and DC art!!! a crossover would be cool (maybe Amanda as poison ivy/Hoffman as the riddler/ or even Adam as Jason!!!)

your art is lovely, never stop making it!!!

Alas this ask definitely got away with me. I started worldbuilding smh. Full breakdown of my thought process under the read more. If anyone has any ideas for other characters in this au hmu

Click for better quality | DM me about commissions | my ask box is open

BRUCE WAYNE | THE JIGSAW KILLER

After loosing his parents to a gunman in his youth and his caretaker Alfred to illness, Bruce Wayne was desolate. After years of being alone in such a large house from such a young age surrounded by the frivolity that only the young and the rich can afford Bruce Wayne becomes bored and tired of his depressing existence and tries to kill himself.

Upon failing he discovers that he has a new renewed vigor and love for life and after studying under Ras Al Ghul and having an affair with his daughter, he came to adopt their beliefs that one should never waste their lives and be grateful for each day. Upon his arrival home to Gotham (alongside Talia) which has become more depraved and lost in his absence he decides to put his genius level intellect to use and design traps and games to test people's will to live, as he had been tested.

As he never became Batman in this timeline there are a lot of young people in Gotham being dragged into dire circumstances and Bruce believes that, should they be willing, any who pass their own tests are free to join his crusade.

Here, Talia takes on the role of Jill Tuck, although she has supported Bruce's ideals from the beginning and how all people can be redeemed - she has doubts that his traps are the most effective method and may cause more harm than good. After miscarrying their child, Damian, the pair part ways and Talia leaves Gotham.

Instead of donning the iconic pig masks which are a sign of rebirth especially in Chinese culture - instead Bruce dawns the Bat Mask to capture his victims - In some cultures, Bats are also symbolic of inspiration, intuition, and a strong need to connect with one’s inner nature and thus Bruce Wayne becomes the Jigsaw Killer

DICK GRAYSON | THE FIRST APPRENTICE

When Haley's circus arrived in Gotham police officers weren't far behind demanding a protection racket as the streets of Gotham are a "dangerous place" - when they were turned away by the Ringmaster the pair decided to cut the ropes of the circus's biggest act: The Flying Graysons.

After watching his parents fall to their deaths at the hands of corrupt officers - Dick Grayson vows his revenge. There is no Bruce Wayne to pick up the peices of this broken child - with no Alfred to encourage him to go to the circus and still mourning the loss of his and Talia's son, Bruce has poured his life into his games.

When Grayson was inevitably shoved into Gothams horrifying foster system he took time to collect himself and do some research on this brand new, foreign city he found himself in. Immediately Dick was drawn to the news of the Jigsaw Killer - a man who punished wrongdoers and set them on a path of righteousness. Dick wanted the officers who had killed his parents to come to that same justice.

10 years later when still no justice came; Dick took matters into his own hands.

He joined the police force and started setting up traps for the corrupt officers in his midst and eventually he closed in on the men responsible for his parents death.

Shortly before he was able to enact revenge he was kidnapped by the real jigsaw killer - Bruce Wayne. Bruce gave Grayson his own trap - the opportunity to choose; he could kill the man responsible for killing his parents or work with Bruce and become the first Jigsae apprentice. Despite his hesitation Dick agreed to work with Jigsaw and an admirable partnership grew.

Two years later however, the relationship between Dick and Bruce grew tense and strained with the two butting heads on every aspect of the games - in the end Dick decided that it was time to bring Jigsaw's work further afield and set up shop in the neighboring town of Blüdhaven and worked undercover as a police officer there in order to sniff out and test the corrupt cops as well as delinquents and those who didn't value their life.

Grayson's role in the narrative here is primarily inspired by Mark Hoffman & William Schneck

JASON TODD | THE SECOND APPRENTICE

After his father's incarceration and the death of his mother, Jason had to learn to survive on the brutal Park Row streets of Gotham. Through stealing and occasionally running drugs for gangs, it was a miracle in itself when Jason made it to 18.

A chance encounter at Leslie Thompkins' clinic has Bruce witnessing Jason fighting with other patients and stealing from others and decides to test him. Upon passing, Bruce begins training Jason as his new apprentice (Dick at this point has departed to Bludhaven).

Jason ends up discovering Willis' journal and, upon discovering that his birth mother works in the army as a medic, he decides to join up without informing Bruce until after he has left. Jason ends up being captured and held in enemy territory for a number of months and is presumed dead by the army. Upon escaping, Jason returns to Gotham and starts setting up rigged traps against those he believes to be irredemable, tending to focus on abusers and drug dealers. Upon discovering that Jason is alive and in Gotham, Bruce tests Jason again as he is no longer following his teachings. He ends up passing this test as well and Bruce encourages him to get his medical degree and become a coroner in order to find more subjects for tests.

Jason in this AU is primarily inspired by Logan Nelson, with a little bit of Amanda Young

Got a little stuck after these lot - let me know if anyone has any ideas for other dc characters in this universe

[edward-cabrini]

Sometimes when your writing you need to perform little sanity checks to make sure you're not abut to churn about a bunch of trash.

I have two methods:

Get up and fuck off You'd be surprised how well this works. Sometimes the vibes are slipping and your just not sure if what you've written is any good. Go get a glass of water, drink, return. You'll know if your still good when you come back if it's good or not

A single chess puzzle It might seems a little odd, but it basically the same as getting up and leaving your desk. Your switching your brain from one mode of thinking to another. You'll then be able to come back and reread what you've done with fresh eyes

[avsanderoth]

Writing Emotions: Fury

In this series, I will detail my thoughts on describing characters who experience various feelings. In this first chapter, I will detail fury. You will find the effect it has on the reader, how it affects characterization, and methods that work well to portray it. 

Fury is a multifaceted thing - two characters will seldom feel it the same way. For some, fury is red hot and uncontrollable, all-consuming and undiscerning. For others, it runs ice cold, for them to wield and direct unto those who deserve it most. 

Fury is tense In that regard, anger is best leveraged in your work for two things - discomfort or satisfaction. Make your reader uncomfortable as the protagonist watches the cruel, enraged manor lord punishing his servant for the tiniest mistake. Then, glue your reader’s eyes to the page in satisfaction as the protagonist erupts before the injustice unfolding. 

Fury is a means of leveraging control, because it is everything but. When the protagonist is consumed in anger, or is placed before someone too furious to reason with, it shakes the reader’s sense of control, of the story going as it “logically” should. Fury is unpredictable, wild and unassuming - that is what makes it terrifying. 

In that regard, there is much I can recommend. For one, do not skimp out on fury. If a character makes a mistake that another has reason to be pissed off for, let fury be the vehicle for the consequences. Let those consequences be grave, and let the reader feel them. Simultaneously, make those moments all the more intense by letting your characters calm down when reasonable. It’s never good to let a single “reaction” steer your story, even if that reaction is very enjoyable to write. 

Fury burns bright When used, fury plays a massive role in characterization. Its overbearing and downright primal nature gives it a sort-of “priority” for coloring your characters. If you introduce a character when they are already angry, even if they’re not written to be hot-headed, that will paint your reader’s perception of them, and sometimes for the worse! Keep in mind that fury is most effective when it is contrasted by calm - when your reader knows how a character is when they’re in control of themselves, and that the state they’re in now has taken that from them. 

This applies to all emotions you focus on, but overuse of “fury” will numb the reader. Anger doesn’t hit as well if this is the fifth chapter in a row where the main character is thrown into a fit of rage. That does not mean you can’t have a character, even the protagonist, heavily rely on anger in order to retain their sense of power or dominion…

But what if that fire is quenched? What then?

Fury burns briefly She stands amidst charred bodies. The sky is tinted red by a setting sun, one she cannot bear to meet with her eyes. Not for the bright light, or the dripping blood that threatens to seep past her eyelids and blind her… But for the end. Her breathing is heavy, the blade in her hand yet heavier, though her heart feels the heaviest. Where has the heat gone? The heat that spurred her to lead this very war, that has left her alone in a field of corpses?

The body ahead glares at her with empty eyes. Eyes she recalled bursting with love, when ash-heavy air was roses and peonies and the great tree in the middle of the castle garden. When her father was yet to turn mad - when she was yet to follow in his footsteps. The itch scratches at her still, an urge to declare herself victorious, for she was - for her rebellion was won, and she lived to bathe in the glory that was sure to follow. 

But there was no glory here. Only the setting sun.  

Fury consumes every ounce of energy you possess, then leaves you empty. Few will feel any satisfaction when it fades, only the withdrawal that follows losing what may be the greatest source of adrenaline available to humanity. 

If what brings your character to fury is devastating, make the come-down even worse. Make them mend wounds they opened, make right where they upended everything in the first place; make them feel regret. 

And then, have them come back to the very emotion that started it all. 

Fury takes many forms But then, how is one to connote fury? Well, with this emotion in particular, the body language is much more important than what your characters say. 

Fury makes your body tense, it makes you reach for things to support you. Gripping doorframes and tables and chairs, whatever is closest, and with all the force you can muster. It sends chills down your spine though your head flushes with heat, sends your brain buzzing with a monsoon of impulses, both verbal and physical.

Things you want to scream, or force through gritted teeth - things you want to hurt, or wield, or force out of your way. Anger activates your fight-or-flight, and when you experience it, one side of the scale becomes much heavier than the other: I am sure you can imagine which. 

Anger is sudden, flares and ceases then flares again. Mayhaps your character feels that flush of heat, though they don’t burst yet - maybe they restrain themselves for as long as they can, until a final, taunting remark sends them over the edge. Maybe their outburst is physical violence, or a series of roared insults, or maybe they force themselves elsewhere - to tears, to utter indifference, or to disassociation. 

Below is a list of some miscellaneous things you can do to connote your characters becoming angrier. 

Taking slow, deep breaths that grow faster as they get more stressed.

Clenching and unclenching their digits, pulling zippers open and closed, pressing their pen rhythmically (ala Spiderverse Kingpin).

Staring at the source of their anger intently, eyes lidded, wide open or (contrastingly enough) rapidly blinking.

Being unable to sit still OR remaining firmly where they are.

Glancing at exits, means of leaving the scenario (especially for confrontation-averse characters)

Speaking far more concisely than usual, sometimes in a deeper voice. Saying things they would not usually say - demeaning things, things that are supposed to hurt so they are left alone.

Testing the source of their anger, asking if they really mean what they’re saying. Characters who are very familiar with fury, or who even enjoy it, may use this tactic to justify an outburst.

Attempting to focus on something else - their work, the dishes if it’s a familial conflict, a newspaper, anything - to calm themselves.

Disassociation. Let the words that hurt join the backdrop, so they can imagine themselves somewhere else - or, imagine themselves nowhere at all. You cannot be hurt if you are nothing.

Biting nails, scratching at sudden itches, all forms of fidgeting connote stress and unease. 

There are many more, but I cannot fit them here. I hope you enjoy this guide. Feel free to do things differently, or to utilize these tips for different ends. You know many things I do not. Thank you for reading, follow for more. 

[asher-agere]

hellooo!! could you do headcanons for babyspace ranpo with cg dazai? tysm!

YES. We need more agere Souheki content such i love them

Baby Ranpo + Caregiver Dazai

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

✦ Starting off with the age range of course! Usually I see Ranpo’s age range being 3-6, but this is for baby Ranpo! Sooo this post will instead be for 1-4 Ranpo! Cause no matter what I still kinda see him as a toddler regressor sorry guys- But this is mainly baby Ranpo I promise! All headcanons will be baby space focused I just need to establish that I still see him regressing to toddler space at least a little bit

₊ ⊹ Rules? What are those? Ranpo doesn’t really want rules, and Dazai doesn’t really want to set any. So why would they make rules? They both see it as kind of pointless because Ranpo’s smart enough to know he won’t be seriously punished. He’s not going to agree to any form of punishment that he doesn’t like. And rewards don’t work because he knows that is he asks nicely he can get stuff anyway. So they just don’t bother! Luckily Dazai is able to read people really well, especially his little one, and he can figure out what he needs to do to get Ranpo to behave!

✦ Most of the time Ranpo is quiet! This is not the same as being nonverbal though. He’s perfectly capable of and comfortable talking! It’s just with Dazai as his caregiver. He doesn’t need to? Like Dazai knows what he’s trying to say before he can even get a word out, or he’ll meet his needs before Ranpo even thinks to ask. So a lot of people assume that Ranpo’s nonverbal when regressed, but the second anyone that isn’t Dazai goes up to tiny Ranpo he’s an absolute chatterbox! Dazai likes to be overdramatic and cling to the other person saying they witnessed Ranpo’s first words with him

₊ ⊹ Ranpo very rarely uses pacifiers or teethers. He prefers to get a lollipop! Or any other candy that’ll last a while honestly, but lollipops tend to work best. He does like those teething pacifiers though! Those ones with like holes in the mouthpiece so they can be filled with frozen treats? Yeah fill that with some frozen sugary fruit and he’s a happy baby! This is also a good method for when he’s eaten too much candy and has a yucky toothache! Gnawing on something cold can help ease the pain

✦ Ranpo is 100% a messy baby. Like needs to eat with his shirt off or it’ll have permanent stains, needs to wear a bib, bath time immediately after eating, all of that good stuff! For food he likes it’s because he gets overexcited. For food he doesn’t like it’s because he tries to stop it from getting in his mouth. Especially icky vegetables! Luckily Dazai rarely pushes the veggies. He gets that Ranpo doesn’t wanna eat them, and honestly he doesn’t either really… But it does need pushed every now and then! Eating healthy is important!

₊ ⊹ As I’m sure is a surprise to no one, one of Ranpo’s biggest regression triggers is food! Things like apple slices, baby puff bites, and chocolate milk all have high chances of making him slip! It’s become sort of a code for them to talk about Ranpo’s regression in public if they can’t talk about it directly. Ranpo’s comfortable about his regression so Dazai doesn’t need to push it on him! So he can just ask like if Ranpo wants chocolate milk when he gets home, and they both know that means regress when they get home!

✦ They 100% have their own secret language together. All made up of like one syllable words that are relatively easy to pronounce. Technically they don’t even need to talk to communicate yeah, but they like talking in a made up language in public because everyone looks at them like they’re crazy and they both find it hilarious. They’re also lunatics who play word games like hangman and scrabble with their made up language. Dazai typed them up a dictionary and Kunikida was furious to see THATS what Dazai’s willing to put effort into? Not actual work?

₊ ⊹ Pet names! I didn’t forget this time I just needed to get my other thoughts out first or my head might’ve exploded. They rarely talk, so neither of them uses many pet names honestly. But when they do Dazai uses ones like “Sweetie” “Kiddo” and “Baby”! Nothing very creative from the skrunkly cat of a man (¬⤙¬ ) And Ranpo just says either “Daz” “Zai” or “Samu”! Just simpler versions of Dazai’s name hehe. Though he’d probably have a few pet names in their made up language that he calls Dazai

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

I’ve been watching a lot of Arcane recently. Jinx fascinates me. I think when she’s regressed she only wants to be referred to as Powder. That’s all enjoy my contribution Arcane fandom who I won’t be tagging

[please-let-this-work-oh-my-god]

One thing I find very interesting, as a learner of German, is Isolde's usage of du when speaking to Kakania. In German, there are three main second person pronouns: du, ihr and Sie. The first two are mainly used in informal and casual settings or when talking to people you're close with (with du being singular and ihr being plural sorta similar to english's y'all) while Sie is used in more formal situations (or situations which require some form of formality) such as talking to strangers, customer service or when you're talking to a doctor/patient. Kakania abides by this and uses Sie when talking to Isolde (such as in her speech at the end of chapter 6) but interestingly, Isolde doesn't reciprocate this and instead uses du when conversing with Kakania in German.

This is super fascinating to me because it implies different levels of closeness within their relationship. Isolde's usage of du implies a level of closeness and intimacy to Kakania as Isolde herself saw Kakania as a close friend (most likely due to the fact that Kakania was once of the few people in Vienna who actually sympathized with her and saw her as a human being) but Kakania's siezen suggests a certain level of estrangement or distance between her and Isolde. Of course. this could just be her maintaining her professionalism as doctors normally use Sie when talking to patients but with how things turned out after chapters 6 and 7, I'd like to think this goes deeper than just formality standards.

[nenoname]

seeing discussions on whether bill could trick stan and yeah it is pretty akldhkasjdha to think stan is untrickable when the last regular ep is him getting tricked by darlene (and we know that eda/"marilyn" stole his stuff/almost got his car by tricking him with a vegas marriage)

[spottedenchants]

curly essek my dearly beloved

[ask-misfits-of-war]

"Sure...likewise...? (is this some kind of trap..?)" "Did.. hold on were you following me through the bushes?—"

"Don't worry about it! Come 'nd sit, we can all chat!"

(Lodi is fascinated with this new stranger, Damascus has mixed feelings.)

[vibingforjudaism]

I need a therapist who I can argue with and who will give me jewish advice ....a rabbi. I need a rabbi

[mad-hunts]

an idea for how another character could meet barton in an untraditional way: your muse met barton while he was in residency by expressing concern for him as they saw him at the grocery store... with only like five bottles of wine in his cart at the checkout 🫠 JSJSJ

[cosmogyros]

.