#and they did it for their own glory and ego

[aftertheradar]

hi! sending out for someone who's more talented than me please? I have a fanart request. (If nobody wants to make this then i'll just wait till i have more money and commission it)

Also Spoilers for both The Locked Tomb Series, specifically Harrow the Ninth and Nona the Ninth, as well as Parahumans: Worm. i've been rereading them both and noticed a parallel between two characters and i want to use this (half joking) request for fanart as a way to talk about it.

anyway here's my idea: can you draw John "Jod•Emperor of the Nine Houses•The Prince Undying•The Great Resurrector•The Necrolord Prime•The Man Who Became God And The God Who Became Man" Gaius the First and Eidolon drinking tea and eating peanuts together? Maybe while the Ressurection Beasts and the Endbringers destroy everything in the background?

I'm already writing the fanfic to match it don't worry

edit had to fix a typo because my autocorrect always changes book 2 to "Harris the Ninth"... which will be my next crack fic project naturally.

[fluffypotatey]

rip to macky but i would not have fumbled so hard with the monkey king 💅 he didn’t listen to you warning about the Jade Emperor???? well, you also left him high and dry, my dude, i would never

[lokisgoodgirl]

In Your Hands [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: That irritating, smug, asshole Loki has taken your final fuck to give. Or so you think... Warnings: 18+ minors DNI. Smut. Avenger! Loki x female reader. Mild BDSM (ball related), hostility, enemies to lovers. Language. (w/c 2.4k)

Loki’s curses beat the air behind you, and the door from the training room slammed; smothering them.

I fucking hate him, I fucking hate him.

In your experience, dramatic exits should be reserved for special occasions. And striking an ego-killer blow to Loki ‘Godsplainer’ Laufeyson was a special-fucking-occasion. It’d been a long time coming. Although you hadn’t meant to punch him quite so sharply in the balls.

I’m sure he’s had worse, you thought as the stale sweat of the changing room hit.

The last thing you’d seen was Steve’s wide, earnest eyes as Loki had doubled over in a slap of dark hair with a muted oomph—the final syllables of his snarky ‘advice’ fading along with his sperm count. You did warn Loki if he told you the correct way to deliver a blow to the transversus one more time that you’d start intentionally missing.

Not my fault he never fucking listens.

It’d been building for months: every ‘actually-I-think-you’ll-find’; ‘bad-form-even-for-a-mortal’ and ‘are-you-sure-you’re-meant-to-be-here…did-you-sneak-in-with-the-domestic-staff?’.

But under it all, the worst thought of all was your own: you still want his praise.

You picked up someone’s shoe from the floor and lobbed it at the lockers – pure, impotent rage ratcheting back with the clang. If Steve kicked you off the A-Team then so be it, worth it to see that moment of pure, wretched shock in his eyes every time you closed your own.

Breaths scraped from your throat, trying to stop the tremble in your hands. You’d spent months trying to catch his eye like a desperate pick-me teenager, spent months wishing his approval into existence: the aloof, pretentious god. Begging any higher power who’d listen for the chance to kneel at his feet and choke on his cock while he called you a good-fucking-girl. You’d bought an emerald green lingerie set for Christ’s sake. It was still in the box—the returns window a dot on the horizon.

Embarrassing. If he knew, you think you’d die of shame. Months running yourself into the ground trying to fit what he’d want and for what? Fuck. “Do you feel better, now?” The ripple of Loki’s smarm filled the air like steam, but it’s edge could cut stone.

Your lips pinched, biting back a slew of curses. You’d expected Steve, but not him.

The idea of turning made your feet root even firmer to the floor. But with every strained second that shifted past, thickening the air, he was winning—staring at the back of your head with that imperious look that only said one thing: I’m better than you, and you know it.

“If you’re waiting for an apology, don’t hold your breath.” Loki released a low chuckle. “Be assured, I can wait much longer than you. How much of your meagre lifespan would you squander staring at those dismal tiles in order to preserve the façade of your superiority, I wonder?”

You spun with a force that twinged a nerve in your neck. “My…?” It came out in a pathetic gasp. “My…superiority?!”

Loki’s face was the picture of serenity: posture impeccable, lips straight. His eyes slid between yours, brows peaked in sanctimonious expectation.

Borderline indecent gym-wear clung to the sinews of his muscular body. The material was like elasticated silk, and every time you’d made contact in training it made it impossible not to imagine frotting against him: bitch in heat.

The lines of the sweatpants draped like a sheet of liquid tar to the bulge of his thighs as he shifted his weight and said, simply, “Yes.”

Heat flared up your neck.  “You’ve got some fucking balls, Laufeyson, I’ll give you that,” you hissed, regretting it immediately. “I’m not sure your knuckles experienced my anatomy’s full glory to report on such an accolade,” Loki replied without a beat. “Their contact was a little brief…”

He tilted his head, an infuriating dimple crushing into one cheek as the heat scorched up your cheeks and made your eyes itch. “A little…weak.”

“Maybe I should twist them again,” you said, folding your arms. You hoped he couldn’t see the fingers trembling. Loki’s eyes narrowed as he crossed the changing room in three, elegant strides and loomed so close that your bellies touched. “Go on then,” he goaded. “You seem under the impression I don’t like it.”

You searched his face, noting the tremor of something deeper than the familiar irritation. Was that…but, it couldn’t be. “What are you doing?” you whispered, stumbling slightly against the lockers. The heat from his abdomen radiated through your gym top. Christ, his stomach was so hard.

“What are you doing, Agent?”

A few black strands had come loose from his ponytail, sticking to the sweat pearling on his jaw. “All bark, no bite,” he murmured, squinting lightly.

His scent crept up your nostrils like smoke under a door: fresh musk, the linger of the cologne he wore at last night’s party, and above it all a scent that was inextricably him. You could never put your finger on it. It drove you mad: just like the rest of him.

Loki released a short puff of irritation, eyes rolling to the side. “I knew you didn’t have it in you.” As he took a step back, your mind skidded to a stop as a hand flew to his chest, gathering a clutch of the slutty gym top, making no effort to cushion the scrape of your nails against his skin, and pulled.

Loki’s mouth crushed to yours with a gasp, his hands flying to the lockers on either side of your head with an ominous crunch of metal. His breath groaned into your throat, the softness of his lips jerking your senses.

Had you expected them to be cold, hard, unwelcoming: just like the rest of him? Yes. But there was time to mull over that later.

Loki’s tongue nudged against your lips, and you relented. The tension in your body seemed to melt as he draped over you like liquid; the cage of his frame and the rub of a thumb down the valley of your cheekbone making you forget just for a second how much you really fucking hated him.

“Show me,” he murmured against your neck. You hadn’t even realised the kiss had slid apart and your head was tilted back against the lockers, the god’s mouth raging a ravenous path down the valley of your throat.

“Show you what?” you panted, bringing your head forward so quickly your vision swam. A lopsided grin spread across his mouth. “How much you hate me,” he said. “You have a problem.” The barb was unnecessary, but Loki’s grin widened all the same. “Discipline me, then.”

His sapphire eyes blazed as your hand flew to his shorts, grabbing his crotch. Fingers curled around the soft, tight sac nestled below the huge erection snaking up the hip joint. Loki hissed, stomach clenching, more clutches of hair falling free. His forehead pressed to yours as your grip tightened.

“Fuck,” he grunted, voice tapering to a whine. You squeezed tighter, and the lockers behind you crumpled under the strength of his fists bearing down.

“Harder,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

His legendary cock twitched above your white knuckles, straining against the running shorts and Loki’s narrowed eyes glistened, the muscles in his jaw and the veins in his neck hard enough to pop.

“Apologise,” you spat, and Loki’s breath hitched as you gave him a brief moment of relief before clenching an even tighter fist than before.

His trainers slipped against the floor, thighs shaking with the effort not to fall to his knees. Even gods, it appeared, shared some of the weaknesses of men. Loki flipped his hair back.

“Why should I? You’re the c-combative v-viper.” A deep set of lines furrowed his forehead, rippling with each flex of your fingers. “You’re nothing but a shit-talking, spoiled prince with a big cock and nice hair,” you said, every muscle tingling with the desire raging through your veins. “You noticed,” Loki said with the twitch of an eyebrow: incorrigible, even in this position. “The hair, I mean,” he added. He didn’t mean the hair.

The god swept your forearm to the side, and your fingers ached immediately. How tight was I holding him? But there wasn’t time to wonder. His kiss slammed into you with the force of a storm, teeth clashing and his fingertips digging in to your scalp and the wet slide of lips across your own. “Loki,” you breathed, and he moaned into your mouth in response. You found yourself bucking against his hard body, grasping at everything and anything you could to be closer to him; to wind yourself so tightly to him that you though you might snap.

And then, your fingers were playing at his waistband. Loki drew back: eyes wild. “Really?” he asked, flushed and breathless. You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of ulterior motive, any sign he was about to pull the rug from under you. You gave a curt nod, and Loki’s expression rippled with surprise.

Your hands slid up the sides of his face, tangling in his hair. “You better make it good, considering you have a lot to make up for.” Loki snorted, “Please,” and then several things happened at once. Out of the corner of your eye, the door to the changing room glowed green around the crack. Loki shoved the waistband of his shorts down, scooping his cock in one hand while you fumbled with your leggings and send them skittering across the gleaming floor. “Norns,” Loki groaned as he cupped your breasts under the flimsy sports top, palming upwards. Beneath the bra, your nipples were hard as pebbles.

His brows peaked as his gaze rose from your chest to your face: a realisation that there wasn’t time for all that— all the filthy things you were beginning to realise he’d fantasised about. All the filthy thing you were beginning to accept that you’d fantasised about. “Maybe next time,” you muttered, pulling his hair-tie free in one sharp movement. A wicked smile unfurled on Loki’s lips.

He dipped, burying his face in your chest as he cupped the back of your thighs and you let out a gasp as he hoisted you upwards. Your legs folded around his hips, slick pussy flush to his stomach, sliding down the taut skin until you met the solid bar of flesh beneath.

“Oh, Agent,” he said in your ear, low and smooth, “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

You shoved his shoulder, but Loki’s fingertips sank into the soft curve of your ass, pushing you up so your slit hovered above the crown of his cock.

His eyebrow rose. “Last chance,” he said with a ladle of sarcasm.

Steadying one hand on his shoulder, you scraped the other through his hair, winding in a fist. You tugged, slowly…slowly, and Loki groaned, letting you sink onto his cock with every sharp ache pinching at his scalp. His thrusts weren’t like you imagined: selfish, primal, uncontrolled. If anyone was a Jackhammer —you’d always imagined it would be Loki. But his hips rolled like dough, undulating against you until your eyes rolled back and the rear of your skull cracked against the lockers. “Harder,” you sobbed quietly, nails digging into his back muscle. “Harder,” Loki groaned, his breath hot in the hollow of your neck. “Ruin me, Agent—I’m in your hands.” You dragged the nails deep against his skin: not enough to break blood, but close. Loki’s ragged breaths of pleasure made a new thrill swell between your legs, meeting his sloppy fucks like you were trying to beat him.

The fist wound in his hair yanked again, and again, and each time…the gods hips jolted. His thrusts were faster now— your moans higher— the rattle of the metal lockers and the squeak of rubber soles on tile making your mind swim. “Can I come?” he gurgled between rough exhales, and you pulled his face to yours. There was something in his eyes you’d never seen before—swimming in the whirlpool of blue. “No,” you said, and his head fell back to the ceiling. Loki’s veined cock tugged every inch of your walls as he pulled out, and buried in, stars bursting in your vision as climax began to shift and slide in the depths like a riptide.

Your legs spasmed against his hips, crossed ankles digging into the base of his spine, the grip on the god’s hair unbreakable. Biting back the urge to sob his name, you slammed your hips down to the root of his length, pulling Loki’s mouth to yours. His tongue massaged the syllables of his own name forming on your tongue, the rumble in your throat matching the one you could feel in the depths of his chest.

“Gods,” he choked when you broke, panting, riding your cunt in sloppy thrusts.

You could feel the slip of your cum between your thighs, and coating the length of his cock: and Loki could too. He looked at you with something a little like fear, one hand flying from your ass and steadying against the lockers.

“Can I—” he started, but before you could respond his knees buckled, wobbling as orgasm hit him like a train. Loki’s cry echoed around the changing room, the pained pleasure of his release making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Fuck: he was beautiful. And now...it was over. A sharp stab of sadness slipped between your ribs. The doorhandle shoogled violently. “Everything okay in there? Loki?” You and Loki’s eyes met. Steve was outside. And he wasn't alone. “What if he’s fallen? Jeepers, the floors are freshly waxed for crivven’s sakes—” “—will you calm down. I think Loki can handle himself on some polished floors,” Sam said dryly through the door. “—Bet that’s not the only thing that’s been polished,” Bucky replied, and even at a distance you could feel the heat building in Steve’s cheeks. “You’re disgusting—our comrade could be in peril. I don’t know what got into her.” There were a series of snorts, and several brisk knocks. “Yo, Laufeyson. You in peril in there?” Sam asked, and Bucky’s laugh followed. “Yes,” Loki whispered; brushing a sex-damp strand of hair from your cheek. His eyes searched yours, pinning you to the lockers as he lowered you to the floor. “I think I might be.”

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[munv]

DIASOMNIA X !FURINA READER

ohmydays ive been itching to pop these fics out for a while..im learning consistency!!

MALLEUS

At first, he thought you were just one of those eccentric faces he would never have the chance to properly meet, but alas, you proved him wrong. The way your theatrics light up the room, the way your voice changes in pitch and its just right, down to the way you move your arms about.

He's invested.

He humors the dramatics with a calm smile and crinkled eyes. "mal, can you believe this?! my brilliance..oh great sevens..!". Maybe he spoils you too much in this aspect (not as much as lilia)

He appreciates the big contrast between you and other people, since not many people are willing to be affiliated with him willingly. However, in the moments where you are vulnerable, he will cradle you.

Not often is he accustomed to speaking with other people, so instead of asking questions as to what is bothering you, he just sits and listens. Opting for quiet companionship over words.

He's the type of hypeman that will watch you perform some dramatic script in the rain, holding the umbrella over both your heads and he smiles at you performing away.

It's a nice change from the quiet, he thinks.

LILIA

If Malleus is your hypeman, then Lilia is your partner in crime. He fuels your ego and spurs on the madness. There has not been one moment he has not supported any of your ideas, so you two completely bounce off one another.

He's one of the few people who can actually match your energy and join you on your stage rather than merely supporting from the sidelines.

He respects the fact that you wont always be yourself, and in those times where your ego fails you, he wont.

There was this moment where you were having a moment of crippling depression, and he just randomly started playing opera music as you acted out your woes.

Whenever you mess up, he ends up providing confident and supporting words, although they may have a teasing undertone, it helps.

SEBEK

The yelling matches never cease. If Diasmonia has known peace, it will never know what peace is ever again. He actually despises you to some extent

It's disgusting (in a good way) how much Sebek claims that he hates your guts and then the second your back is turned? He's boasting about your glory and whatnot.

Sebek is worse than Malleus when it comes to emotions, because he absolutely sucks. He would say something and then only realize afterwards that he was too mean and then apologize.

He's so awkward (Dork #3) when it isnt you boasting about how amazing you are, but he does enjoy your plays. He respects the passion you have for acting and it drives him to become better as well!

Learning something from Sebek is hard when hes too busy yelling at you all the time, but he likes to sit you down at times (lilia told him too, this wasnt of his own violation, though he isnt completely against it) and teach you that you dont always need validation

You two balance each other out to some extent. He gets embarrassed and starts another screaming match when you tease him though. All in good fun, of course.

SILVER

Silver is concerned about you. The way you would flop right next to him on the couch and spout something dramatic, and he would wake up halfway and go "did something happen again..?"

Silver, like Malleus, is a listener. Silver does nothing but stare at you whenever you exaggerate your day.

What he does seem to show interest in is the stories that you recall from your world so he can sleep. He likes the stories that you describe about Fontaine, it makes him smile lightly whenever he sees the big grin on your face right before he falls back asleep.

Does he know that you and Lilia use him as a damsel in distress for a mini play when hes asleep? No. Does he also know you both force Malleus to watch and Sebek to be his shining armor? Not a clue

[legobiwan]

This is such a telling page for Ford. Not only does he detail his social missteps and admit to being lonely in Gravity Falls, despite the scientific wonder of the place, but he also uses what I call "Fordese 2," a scrambled version of the "Fordese 1" code we were first introduced to in Journal 3 to label himself a "six-fingered freak" and to state that "Stanley would have made her laugh." (Her, being the waitress Ford tries out his nerdy science joke on, which goes down like a lead balloon despite the fact that it is legitimately funny, given the right audience).

It's like Bill says. "Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated..." (Funny enough, Bill could probably turn those exact words on himself, as well.)

Ford so wanted Gravity Falls to be the place where he'd finally fit in, the puzzle to his misshapen puzzle piece.

And as we see in the missing Journal pages from BoB, that was not to be the case. And worst of all? Ford blames it on his hands at first, but the reality is that he says that "Stanley could make her laugh," meaning Ford's "freakishness" (as he would put it) has less to do with his six fingers and much more to do with Ford's personality and the way he interacts with others.

This is actually worse. Fingers, you can fix, if you want to. By the time you're an adult, most people probably wouldn't care. But to Ford, his fingers seem to be more a manifestation of something internal, something he feels is fundamentally broken about him and that's just the absolute worst hell to be stuck in.

So yeah, it's hardly surprising Ford fell so hard for Bill's shenanigans (and you can define "fell so hard" however you want, although that karaoke page in BoB is especially damning). Here's an interdimensional being who not only can guide you to unlocking the secrets of the universe and propel you towards scientific fame and glory (and thus shoving every taunt, invective, side-eye, and eye roll ever hurled at you over the decades down your tormentors' throats) - but he's (on the surface) completely glib about being a freak himself.

For Ford, this must have been like finding a shady, sparkling oasis after thirty years of trawling through the desert (especially after Stanley's "betrayal" - Stanley, who along with Fiddleford, being the only person Ford felt like he could be himself around and still be accepted as a human being).

Now, is Bill trying way too hard to show how much he doesn't care? Uhhh, yeah. Bill has almost the same hangups as Ford. Labeled a freak for a genetic mutation and ostracized by his peers. Has a rare gift in that he can see not only into the third dimension but can see even past that, into possible dimensions and futures, which is a wild skill to have. Compare this with Ford's gigantic science brain and academic overachievement. Same deal. And not only this! Bill, in an attempt to prove what he can do with his "freakishness," to prove his worth and place in the universe - he tries to show off something to the denizens of his dimension (we don't know yet what Bill did), only to end up slaughtering his entire dimension. Ford was a hair's breath away from doing the exact same thing with the portal. Because we know from Journal 3 that part of his motivation is to be famous and get accolades for his work, and that maybe "girls will finally talk to me." (Which, Fordsy, let's be real here - I don't think you're actually into these "girls" for real, but you want the acceptance that comes with fitting in with societal standards, and getting a state-sanctioned girlfriend is exactly the type of thing Ford would want to make himself feel "normal.")

Anyway, the point being that if Ford had succeeded with his initial portal attempt, he would have basically wiped out his own dimension. Just. Like. Bill. And it makes you wonder - yeah, yeah, Bill wanted to party, Bill needed out of the Nightmare Realm, Bill's a psychopath who enjoys destruction.

But honestly? I think part it all was that Bill wanted someone like him. His own puzzle piece. Another monster. A being whose collateral damage in the quest to justify their existence in this universe ends in wholesale slaughter.

And Ford had the capacity to easily fit that mould.

[jon-sedai]

Rhaegar Targaryen is easily one of GRRM’s best deconstructions of the genre and we don’t talk about it enough. He’s prince living in a world full of magic and wonder that has dwindled over time. His own family had a great monopoly on one of the most magical phenomena (dragons) to ever exist, but they lost this control over time and it was due to their own faults. But there’s an all encompassing hope that this magic, these dragons, will come back. They all live within the promise that it will all be back and with a huge bang. It’s all so romantic. Magical forces of ice and fire battling it out in a song.

Then there’s Rhaegar, a prince born for the sole purpose of being this song’s romantic hero. He already has his destiny mapped out and it will be a great one, greater than any other man who ever lived. It’s a song of ice and fire, and Rhaegar is its bard. You’d expect this to give him joy. Yet by all accounts, he was depressed as fuck. I think he’s unfairly earned the reputation of having an ego so big to think that he will be the hero….but that’s quite literally the point of his existence. He was born to be the hero. He paid the price at birth to be the hero. How can he revel and glory in this destiny when he has no say in it?

So it’s genuinely funny that when given the chance, Rhaegar immediately pivots to someone else taking on this burden. But how tragic for him that he cannot escape it too far. Because it will be none other than his own son who, under a “bleeding star”, is marked at conception for this great destiny without a say. More than his ego, Rhaegar is marked by the inability to escape this duty. His whole life is dedicated to fulfilling a duty he can never escape. He isn’t just a future king, prophecy dictates that the world’s survival is placed squarely on his shoulders. Even when he isn’t the hero, he’s now responsible for raising him…

…but then he makes one decision and it all comes crumbling like a pack of biscuits. He escapes this burden…but dies. And his successor dies too. And now the ones who will inherit his legacy are two people who never knew him. They never knew of his burdens, of this prophecy. But they too cannot escape its jaws. I think this does bring up some interesting questions about the nature of fate and destiny in the world of ice and fire. Can you really escape it? Rhaegar tried to, and paid the price for his defiance, but he never truly made it out because the burden instead jumped to the son (and sister) he never knew. Funny thing is that in a bizarre (and tragic, in its own way) twist of fate, this son was brought up entirely without the trappings of power that depressed Rhaegar. Rhaegar was a dazzling prince, Jon is a bastard. Rhaegar was marked by his great inheritance, Jon is marked by the lack thereof. Does fate say “well the first one got too depressed by having too much so let’s give the next one nothing?” Even Dany, who grows up a princess does not have the privileges that Rhaegar did. So how does upbringing craft a hero and the choices they make? Welll, GRRM had given us two versions of Rhaegar’s tragedy in Jon and Dany for us to see.

Rhaegar’s impact on the meta-narrative is honestly so massive. Like I’d put him right up there with Quentyn, Sansa, and Bran as one of the best genre deconstructions in the series and no one can tell me otherwise.

[bamfkeeper]

NSFW Alphabet: Sabretooth

a/n: I know this is more a Nightcrawler focused blog, but I will still write a few other X-men characters just because. And since I did a SFW of Sabretooth, I wanted to do a NSFW one too. So here he is, in all his bloody glory. I was a little more vulgar in this one than in the Nightcrawler one, but it fit for this character. As mentioned in previous posts, I try to mix multiple depictions of the character so it's not just based on a single one. So I take inspiration from comics, shows, and films. I might revamp this later. I hope you enjoy <3

Minors DNI. 18+ below the cut.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Sabretooth doesn't exactly get the whole aftercare thing, I mean, he isn't really known for his gentle nature.

When you first get together and fool around, he probably is the type to fuck and leave, or make you leave. He's blunt; he straight up tells you when you're done to get out or he will leave your space. He treats sex almost like an animal, one purpose: to fuck and then he will go on his merry way.

However if you continue your little relationship, then he might slowly start to understand what to do. He isn't typical by any means. You will be left with claw marks and bites, and you will bleed. It's unavoidable, those claws and teeth? Come on.

He wouldn't treat them normally, but he would lick them, his saliva has an antiseptic aspect to it, so he is 'cleaning' your wounds that he left but in his own way. It might feel weird, but just let him do his thing. That's probably the closest he will get to being gentle anyway. If they are deep enough he might tend a little more but honestly he feels like he does enough by cleaning them with his tongue.

Sabretooth is also generally pretty happy with himself after sex. He would be calmed down a bit from his norm, because he satisfied something primal in his nature. This might be one of the only times you can convince him to lay still for a period of time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Sabretooth obviously loves his own claws, his weapon of choice on enemies and on you. He loves making you shiver when he drags them down your body with just enough pressure to make you squirm.

But he also has a big ego, so...he is pretty proud of his size.

He'd like your thighs and ass, kneading them like a cat and pawing at you every chance he got. He grabs your legs and loves how soft you feel, and he likes smacking your backside and watching his hips drill into you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Prepare for a lot of it. He is messy and doesn't give a shit about what kind of mess he makes. Inside, outside, doesn't matter to him. He likes to spread it around your face if he shoots his load onto you, or likes watching you open your mouth and show him what mess he made on your tongue.

Can't hate a good creampie either, he loves filling you up. It fulfills that need that burns in his groin every time you have sex. Every instinct screams at him to bury his cock against your cervix and blow his load directly into your womb.

Or he tries to push as far in your ass as he can, listening to you moan as he fills you up, the head of his dick brushing your g-spot perfectly.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He doesn't really have any secrets, he's fairly open about what he likes. But he does have a strong desire towards scents. He doesn't like super perfumed body wash or soaps, he likes the natural smell of things, so he would prefer non-scented soaps rather than the ones that smell sweet or strong.

He likes smelling your groin a lot, especially in the mornings when the scent is the strongest naturally. You always wake up and feel him tugging your legs open so he can smell you. It does typically lead to other things...

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He absolutely knows what he's doing. He's had plenty of partners in the past, so he knows just what to do in the bedroom.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Doggy feels most natural for him. He likes mounting you from behind and he can get a good grip on you when he's pounding into you. He also likes to bite on the back of your neck or your shoulder. Plus he always has a good view before he puts his dick on you.

Sometimes you ride him, gravity helps pull you down on his cock. But you don't get to ride him too often because he doesn't like being on his back for very long. He only has so much self control.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

He'll make jokes every now and then, but it's all with the dirty talk he gives you. It's all very intense, and he will tease you a lot.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He's a burly, hairy dude. So you can imagine how he looks down there, pretty untamed, not like that really matters. He doesn't see the point to shaving himself, unless you really, really wanted him to, he probably wouldn't ever do it on his own.

He has a hairy happy trail from his belly button that leads down to his pubic hair. His chest is hairy too, and you like to play with it and curl it around your fingers sometimes, which makes him roll his eyes but you do it anyway.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Sabretooth isn't romantic, he's more of a...let's fuck type of guy. His idea of romance is giving you a real, bloody heart torn straight out of an animal or person. And kissing you if he's all messy with blood from a hunt.

If you accept a lot of his habits, he might adapt and try to do something more typically romantic for you in return, or something that you'd see as romantic, whatever that may be. But don't expect him to completely change who he is to be a super romantic guy. And don't ever tell anyone if he does something like that.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He probably doesn't masturbate a whole lot, he might when he's feeling real pent up, but why would he masturbate when he has you to take care of all his needs?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Sabretooth is pretty damn kinky, he isn't ashamed about any of his sexual desires and is open with you about them.

He obviously loves predator/prey dynamics, he likes to pretend to hunt you in the woods and when he catches you, he fucks you into the mossy ground. It gets his instincts going and he feels like his cock is on fire when he's hunting you. Plus the sex that comes from 'hunting' you is honestly some of the best you've had. Prey pet names for sure.

Breeding is a huge kink for him. He likes making a mess, but he prefers to bury himself into you and fill you up, regardless if you can get pregnant or not. He will pound multiple loads into you and won't stop until you are squirting it out around his cock.

BDSM is something that's interesting to him, though not every aspect of it. He's a pretty big sadist, so his claws and teeth will definitely mark you up all bloody and you'll be bruised from his hard grip on you thanks to his strength. He'd probably be into impact play, so he'd like to spank you while he's fucking you.

I think he might find bondage fun just because you'd be completely helpless and it can tie into the whole predator/prey play too. Like a little bunny caught in a snare and he stumbles upon you, helpless to the hungry big cat.

I think he probably would have a thing for housewife type of behavior, things that aren't inherently sexual but can turn him on. So cleaning and cooking, bringing him beer or food while he sits back, I don't know I just have a weird feeling he would be into that.

I also think he'd be interested in CNC. It's something that you'd have to talk heavily about, but I think it would be something he would want to try.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He's down to do it anywhere. He doesn't give a shit who hears or sees. But the bedroom is where you two can really let loose. He also likes doing it in the woods, he has a few spots he will take you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Being submissive around him or showing submissive behavior will catch his attention. The primal part of him picks up on all of that, so speaking to him without eye contact, or when he approaches slightly lowering your head are things he instantly picks up on.

I also think if you make yourself vulnerable on purpose around him, he'd definitely like that. If you display your belly or neck, like laying down or seeming careless if he gets close are things he would eye closely, since most of the people around him (human or mutant) tend to be extremely cautious.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Sabretooth wouldn't really be interested in 'making love.' He's a primal mutant. He would want to give in to all of his desires, and he would want whomever he's sleeping with to do the same.

I don't think he would be into someone who challenges his dominance either. He'd take it as an insult and it would trigger his aggression. I don't see him as being a bottom at all, but that's just my opinion. So he wouldn't have any desire to take that position.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He's going to be pretty selfish, and he absolutely prefers receiving. He loves looking down and seeing you try to take him all in your mouth. It turns him on more knowing you're trying your best but still can't fit all of him. He will tease you and talk dirty the entire time.

"Awe, what's the matter...am I too big for you? Can't fit all of me in that pretty mouth? Don't worry...I'll make it fit."

Prepare for a deepthroat and possible face fuck because he gets a little carried away.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Rough, fast, unforgiving. He might allow you a moment to adjust when he first penetrates you, but he hardly waits long. There is nothing stopping him from going full on wild mode.

He likes to watch you squirm as he pushes deeper and deeper, watching your little hole stretch around him as you whine. He swears he could cum just from listening to you and watching you struggle to fit him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He can actually cum pretty quick when he knows you're only going to get a few minutes to fuck, so he's down for a quickie, pretty much wherever.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Absolutely. He loves to experiment, especially if he discovers something he hasn't tried before, he'd want to try it out once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

He has enhanced stamina because of his mutation so...he can go for multiple rounds. His period to recover is practically nonexistent, thanks to that mutation.

He can also last a few minutes to much longer. It just depends, but he does prefer multiple rather than dragging out a single long orgasm.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He does not have any toys of his own, other than maybe a few BDSM items like rope or impact things. He doesn't care if his partner has any. In his mind, the toys couldn't compare to him so he could care less.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

A lot. Sabretooth is the king of teasing. He can be somewhat selfish, he will deny your orgasm just so when he finally allows you to cum, it feels like a huge wave washing over you rather than just a little jolt of pleasure. He will bring you up to the brink, but never push you over until he's ready for that to happen.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Sabretooth is loud, when he isn't dirty talking you, he is grunting, groaning, snarling. He makes animalistic noises rather than moaning or whining. He knows you like hearing him, so he will lean down and make those noises against your ear, while telling you how good you feel wrapped around his dick.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He purrs after he orgasms, he takes a moment to catch his breath and he will purr against you, but he catches himself before he does it for too long and acts like he wasn't.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Sabretooth is a BIG dude. So, obviously his dick is gonna be big. He's definitely a shower, but he grows a bit when erect.

Flaccid, his bulge is already big, so it can look intimidating before you even get his pants off. His ego always flares up when he sees how you look at his crotch.

Erect he looks near impossible to put into you, but somehow he fits. He's anywhere between 7.5-9 inches. He is girthy too, which is really what you feel when he fucks you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He has a high sex drive, he can fuck anytime, anywhere. He gets horny from hunting, killing, fighting, all of his instincts flare up and it triggers all of the good feelings in his brain.

Sabretooth would want to fuck a lot, he could do it multiple times a day if possible.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Instantly, he likes to chill out after he has sex. A beer or cigar, then he knocks out. He doesn't bother to shower half the time, so he just likes to kick back and relax.

He might take a shower upon request, but he will complain and grumble about it.

If you like to shower after sex, he would let you go on your own while he has his beer or cigar. He's large, so you and him in the shower together would be awkward and cramped, plus he likes to have a few minutes of space afterwards.

If you are wounded, aka clawed up, he will watch you while you sleep for a bit and then he will fall asleep.

His bed is very soft, it's adorned with furs, pelts, and a thin quilt as the comforter, so you tend to fall asleep after cleaning up.

If you lay on him after, he will run his claws along your back lazily, making you shiver. Knowing those claws to maim and mutilate, but they only graze your skin. It's a strangely gentle gesture that you never reject. He does this until he falls asleep.

Thanks for reading. <3

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover picture cropped from X-Men Origins Sabretooth #1 (2009)

[silentmoths]

*slams table with knife and fork* j i n g y u a n s m u t ijuhgfvcvghjhgfdsdf.

( i am so predictable look awaaayyyyy )

*Slides the silver cloche over and removes the lid* here you are, you fucking heathen. /j

NSFW, Jing Yuan x Reader

Smut, thats...yeah that's really all there is to it, Size diff if you squint? Jing yuan is an asshole who knows he can get his own way with little effort. No plot just porn.

NOT PROOFREAD

Jing Yuan likes to play with his food. 

Very much like a housecat, pampered, spoiled and adored; he’s liable to get away with anything, even at the expense of others.

All he has to give is one of those damned smiles. Outsiders think he’s sweet, warm and kind.

You know he’s absolutely nothing of the sort.

“What’s the matter, darling? Too much?” He practically purrs into the shell of your ear as he rolls his hips up again, pressing deeper and deeper into you; touching places you’re sure were never meant to be touched, filling and stretching beyond comprehension. You’d warned him, when things had begun getting serious; when clothes had come off and you had seen him in all his glory.

”that won’t fit.”

Oh, what a fool you were.

For of course he would take it as a challenge; but while most might perhaps try to move things along, Jing Yuan was, as he was in everything…horrendously slow. 

First came the teasing, the lightest of touches that only seemed to stoke his own ego as your frustrations mounted, never quite touching where you needed, but just close enough that your body pined for it; teeth pressing into the skin of your pulsepoint but never biting down hard like you wanted. 

Even when you’d finally lost composure and begged, pleaded with him to do something, anything; bite, scratch, touch you…his smile only grew all the more languid, his touch only a little firmer as he asks you to clarify as if the bastard didn’t know what you were asking him for.

Infuriating torture.

By the time he did finally slide that aching cock of his all the way into you in a single, slow roll of his hips, you’re practically sobbing from relief. ‘Finally’ you think as you feel his pelvis press against your ass, warm strong arms wrapped firmly around you as he leans back against the headboard, sighing softly. ‘Finally’.

Oh but that was only the beginning.

Jing Yuan and all of his insurmountable patience, versus you, already strung to the very edge, shaking in his lap as he takes what he wants to very languidly, seemingly without a care in the world for your utterly wrecked, begging state. You glance over your shoulder, hoping that the pleading gaze would finally push him into giving you what you wanted, that orgasm that was so close, yet seemingly so far out of reach. Instead, you’re met with a smile, the one golden eye visible from beneath his mussed mane of hair twinkling with amusement and adoration in one as he leans up, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to your flushed, sweaty cheek.

“Patience, my sweet…a little longer for me..?” 

Goddamn him, a single phrase and you’re bending to his whims, just like everyone else. His smile widens as he hears the defeated whine, he presses another kiss to your shoulder this time, rewarding you with a deeper, harder thrust that sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, and stars bursting behind your eyes.

Ever the strategist, Jing Yuan wins again.

[belovedivies]

Heyyy I love the killer Peter writing that you do it’s amazing🤩

Could I request relationship head canons for Peter like you did for Raphael but this time reader is an assassin like him

peter relationship headcanons

a/n: i'll be taking requests again now that i'm done with midterms (spoiler alert i got my ass beaten :3). this came out a little too long and specific for a hc but i plan to flesh this out on another oneshot- anw, enjoy anon!!! cw: minor spoiler, pre-canon, brief canon-typical cruelty wc: 1.26k m.list

IDEA

You met on neutral ground, mainly because his friend just wouldn’t shut up about this cute girl a few rooms down the hallway. You were three years older than Simon then, with a stature shorter than Peter himself.

Glory Club’s foundation is three things: violence, money, and ego. Assassins were pitched against each other on a daily basis, risking their lives to climb to the top where the Apostles rightfully resided. Where jealousy burnt red hot and became a driving force for success, the flame in you had long died out. Peter stared sometimes, and in your eyes, an ocean of arctic iciness stared right back.

He didn’t think much of it. He couldn’t begrudge anyone for it either. The paycheck was nice, and so was the control, the chokehold over others. Peter had and would play the part of an obedient puppet on strings to this organization as long as he drew breath, and as long it benefited them. Wouldn’t you do the same too? Downed a pill, cracked a skull, tossed and turned in a dusty corner later on because the dried blood felt so uncomfortably sticky on your nape, the scream of agony fresh on your mind. It wasn’t the nicest job out there, but it was for survival. A better cause. And Peter had thought about it rationally; he just owed that much to Father Gabriel.

It did get a little more complicated when you got roped in with them. Peter’s apathy had been evident while you stayed painfully austere, and Simon… was just trying his best to get both of you to talk. Five minutes in and a few hours after that afternoon, he couldn’t fathom why his comrade had thought it was a good idea for them to spar with not just a B-rank killer, but one whom neither of them had ever talked to.

OUTLINE

You really hated your job. Anyone would, at some point in their life.

Solo missions were a norm for Peter—things always worked out smoother and faster for the guy when he was on his own. On the rare occasion, he did get paired up with another person. Sometimes his fellow Apostles, the others a far too prideful assassin who chewed more than they could bite. But today there was you. And there wasn’t anything to go about besides a few surface-level exchanges and the silence in between. He couldn’t begrudge you. It’s only for survival.

A hit to the jugular and the job was done. Once out cold on the ground, the body wasn’t his responsibility anymore. Still, the boy watched with some amount of interest when you picked up the knife and poked around their insides. He left to light up a cigarette, took three brief puffs, and went back to the bedsheets covered in blood with the corpse nailed against the wall.

Sadism wasn’t intentional, but it was a running theme among the ranked Glory Club killers. The only collar made of metal and swine that bound them together by the neck. That you were so deep into the pit of insanity, you either shut off your emotions completely or learned to love the carnage.

Death reeked in every corner of the room, yet it was in you that Peter could tell the scent the clearest. You were there, so strangely out of the place, knees pulled tight against your chest. The look on your face was downright miserable.

When Peter made his way closer to inspect the scene, you tilted your head up to meet his face. The knife slipped, the moon shone, the rain tapered. Then you blinked, which was already so rare in itself. And Peter had blinked too, eyes widened, lips parted open just a fraction in surprise as tears welled up in your eyes. You sobbed and wept your dying heart out all the way until the cleanup crew showed up at the motel. One old lady, grey hair and croaked voice, held you in her arms. Months later when Peter finally asked again, he learned that it had hardly been the first. 

FIRST DRAFT

Just down the road, past the cut of dense trees leading to a lonely seashore, there was an orphanage tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Seoul. The kids always waved whenever Peter passed by during his morning run, a gesture that he had returned with equal warmth. Twice a week, the courtyard was lit up with colorful string lights and music, the mouth-watering scent of food wafting through the night air.

He had seen you outside of the Cathedral before, but not like this. The gentle fluorescents accentuated your features with a certain softness, like marshmallow, like the sea breeze carding through his hair. And you had talked, had smiled, had laughed along with them, had stared at Peter with eyes wide as saucers when one of the caregivers invited him in. You were in an apron with the children clung to your waist, vying for an ounce of your attention. It was a week after the mission and you two had rarely crossed paths. 

Peter wondered if you resented him for it; serving him a rather generous portion of seafood barbecue while dodging teasing comments from the kids through grinding teeth and knife-point smiles. But when your shoulders bumped against him on the bench, the tip of your right ear was burning red.

Simon ended up joining the week that followed, bringing more laughter to the shared space with his horrible singing and playfully flexing his swordsmanship. The edge of your smile grew softer and your shoulders more relaxed as you stuffed everyone’s plates with more food. Peter watched you through the rim of his cup with a tightness in his throat; you had only wanted to be normal. 

EDIT

“The kids are my rock.” You confessed a few months later when the ice wall between you and him finally melted. This late into the night, there wasn’t a wisp of cloud in the sky. The waves hit the shore every second, washing away the footsteps as Peter took a stroll with you along the beach.

You asked him about his dream. He didn’t know how to answer it. Taking away the cruelty and violence that made him the way he is today, what was left of the Apostle Peter? A caring brother to Simon and a good son to Father Gabriel. He might as well have been a husk before and a pretty face after, but there rarely had been anything in between for Peter to define himself. A label. A purpose.

Before he could say it, you gave his shoulder a gentle pat and chuckle, eyes glinting with mirth. “You’ll probably be a bookstore typa guy when you grow older.” And against all odds, the statement drew a chuckle from him too.

Maybe he would. Maybe if there was ever a disbandment order from the Cathedral and Peter had lived long enough to have a hunched back and a head full of grey hair, he would run a small bookstore on his own. Maybe the future Simon would drop by sometimes and tease him for his old-man look despite being older than Peter was.

Maybe the future you, still alive and kicking then, would also visit him, and the future Peter, older and wiser than he is right now, might have had the courage to ask you to stay.

But tonight, there was just the two of you. The moon hung high above the sky, the sea glistened with stars and mysticality. Peter watched as the white moonlight lined up the bridge of your nose and the curves of your cupid bow. The artificial heart inside your chest might not have a pulse, but his own did.

And it was very much beating for you.

[thefiery-phoenix]

Hello! Is it ok if I request Yandere headcanons for Gitae kim? It’s ok if you’re not ok with it! Also just wanted to say that I really love all your Yandere content!

YANDERE GITAE KIM HEADCANONS

Freaking hell, he creeps me TF out but why does he look so good, it's just unfair

Please, for the sake of your own sanity, RUN. Just RUN. That's it. Or at least, run as much as you can since he'll end up finding you anyway since he's the leader of a freaking Cartel and the son of Gapryong Kim after all and is a complete sadistic beast in the form of a man. It's rare that he would ever develop feelings for someone and even if he does, he'll be too egoistic and arrogant and proud to admit it, he'll treat you more like a pet of some sort to be precise. But you're HIS little pet, that he loves in his own dark twisted way. It doesn't matter how you meet this deranged flesh eating cannibal here, the second he sets his eyes on you and his mouth curves upwards into a smirk, that's when you're a goner and you might as well just kiss goodbye to your life and freedom

It was a usual day for you and you were walking back to your house after a long tiring day. You put on some earphones and walked down the alleyway, humming to your favorite tunes feeling the cool breeze against your skin. You tried to ignore the men lurking in the alleyway with beer bottles and cigarettes strewn on the ground as they looked drunk and intoxicated while their lecherous gazes landed on you, leering at you and making all sorts of lewd perverse comments about your body that made your skin crawl. You put your head down and didn't want to get into some kind of confrontation which was the last thing you wanted, when one of them ended up grabbing you by your wrist and you screeched on top of your lungs and thrashed around for all you were worth, pleading with them to let you go as tears streamed down your cheeks and your neatly combed hair was now frizzled and became unkempt with a few of your hair strands falling into your face. One of the men ended up striking you hard across your face as you whimpered in pain and clutched at your now stinging cheek and trembled. Before one of them was about to tear off your shirt, in the blink of an eye, the man's hand was now on the ground leaking crimson as the man screamed in agony and fear and you felt your heart stop beating when your gaze landed on a raven haired guy with blood splattered across his well toned muscular chest and had a black leather jacket with a cruel smile etched on his face as he watched the man fall to the ground, whimpering at the sight of his severed hand

What the man did next would remain ingrained into your memory forever. The stranger with the axe swung his axe around and the head of the man who'd been tormenting you now lay on the ground, his crimson blood painting the gravel of the ground crimson as he cut off a chunk of his flesh and bit into it and tore through the meat like an apex predator. At this point you didn't know if you were safe even after being supposedly saved by this man in front of you as his eyes landed on your whimpering and trembling figure and he smirked sadistically. "Relax little girl, I'm not going to eat you...unless you want me to'' he spoke as his eyes surveyed across your features. You reminded him of a scared vulnerable little prey, a weak little lamb that he could take advantage of and the mere thought of it just excited him as his eyes glinted with malice. Before he could even say something else, your fear consumed you and you ended up blacking out and losing your consciousness. You were about to pummel straight to the ground before he grabbed you by your waist and held you in his arms as he let out a soft chuckle, amused that you fell for him already which did give him a bit of an ego boost

You were so weak, so helpless and so fragile like a little doll that he would love to have in his grasp. He wonders how you'd react if you'd see him in his full glory while he beats up people and murders them on a usual day, you wouldn't even last a second without trembling and crying like the helpless little lamb that you were, which was cute in his opinion. "Looks like I'm takin' you home, eh?'' he said as he hoisted you over his shoulders like a sack of flour and fished out your ID to find your address and made his way to your house. You were quite surprised when you woke up the next day in your own bed and you felt your head was slightly groggy as you massaged your temples and sighed to yourself, secretly glad you were away from that cannibal. You made your way into the living room only to find the same guy napping on your couch, with blood still splattered over his chest as your eyes widened and your face paled and you let out a shrill screech of bloody murder. "Damn it woman...can't even let me nap after I saved you...'' grumbled the guy as he looked at you and his eyes narrowed slightly. He enjoyed watching you squirm and fidget nervously, he could see you were torn between trying to be a good host and thanking him for saving you yesterday to contemplating passing out again. "You know...I expect some sort of thanks from you little girl'' he said as he got up from your couch and strode over to you, his massive frame towering over your body as you gulped nervously

"I-I could give you money if you want...please don't kill me'' you whimpered. "Silly naive girl, who said I wanted your money...you're interesting...I'm keeping you with me'' he said with a smirk. You tried to make a run for it when he grabbed your hands and pinned your arms above your head and cooed at you condescendingly, "Well now that's just rude isn't it? You should thank your savior properly. Now don't make this hard for both of us...be a good little girl for your savior, would you?" he asked as he patted your cheek a few times and caressed your cheek as he lifted you in his arms yet again and you let out a nervous squeak. "Don't you think you should get to know me or something before you literally kidnap me?" you asked him as he looked at you with an amused smile on his face. "Plenty of time to do all that get to know you crap. I'm Gitae by the way since you're so insistent on introductions and crap and this isn't a kidnapping...I'm taking what's mine'' he said as he carried you out of your house

What he wants, he gets. That's it. He wasn't going to waste a single second without taking you back with him, of course, he could have kidnapped you in the night but the element of surprise was what made things more interesting for him. Your cute little reactions to whatever he did riled him up so much. No way was he going to let you go now. The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a black car with him next to you and a few other people who had tattoos as you couldn't believe what you'd gotten yourself into. You silently let tears stream down your face and you looked out the window. Gitae wrapped a black jacket around you since you were still in your night clothes as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. Don't get fooled by his actions though, he's as unpredictable as the weather

If you thought Samuel or Eugene were messed up psychopaths, allow me to introduce you all to the poster boy of being a RED BANNER. He's obsessive, manipulative and won't hesitate to literally gaslight you. While he won't physically hurt you, the same cannot be said to those around you unfortunately. He wants your attention on him, he wants you to cling to his arm like the helpless little doll that you are and look at him with those wide eyes of yours, being all pliant and dependent on him. Whenever you squirm when he touches you he just finds it so amusing and cute, he can't help but put you on his lap when he has his meetings with the men from his cartel while you have a pink collar around you pretty little neck that has HIS name on it so people will know you belong to him. As if those love bites and hickeys on your neck, thighs and arms aren't a testament of you being his. He likes marking you wherever he can, you're his property, HIS doll. Of course, anyone who looks at you for a moment too long or if their gaze wanders to a certain part of your body that belongs to him, he's just going to gouge their eyes out like knife cutting through a slab of butter. And then he'd kiss you on your soft kissable lips possessively and aggressively like a dying man needing air, running his hands over your body till you're literally gasping for breath, in front of everyone else to show those losers that they won't ever be able to have you as their minds are now ingrained with the dire consequences of laying their eyes on Gitae Kim's girl

Whatever hopes you have of escaping from him, it's best to get it out of your mind before he ends up killing and eating one of your dear loved ones right in front of you. You're his little pet, he won't tolerate any form of disobedience from you and he'll tell you how it's your fault they're dead and it's all because you dared to leave him. Your punishment is getting handcuffed to the bed till you're allowed to walk. It's best to just accept his advances towards you because there is no escaping from this deranged psycho at all...

[avelera]

Saw someone say that jayce is narcissistic, and maybe media literacy is dying

I think Jayce has an ego, to be clear. But I don't think it's in any way excessive or pathological and indeed, I think he shows a lot of humility given his actual accomplishments. There's a bunch points I could make make on this.

From a story perspective:

Jayce's character arc is a subverted corruption arc and once it's subverted, it launches Viktor's actual corruption arc. But in order for Jayce's subverted arc to work, we have to believe he has a real potential of falling prey to his worst instincts, so we have to truly believe narcissism is a risk for him.

In addition to that, they had meta knowledge of Jayce Giopara, his League counterpart, to set up an expectation of a corruption/narcissism arc, so many people came into the story expecting Jayce to be an asshole. But this is Jayce Talis, not Jayce Giopara and it turns out, they're completely different characters (who would probably hate each other lol).

Arcane and Fortiche do an incredible job in S1 with their sleight of hand with Jayce seeming like an asshole. On the first watch, at least for me, I think I got the surface level of what they were going for, which is being meh to negative on Jayce, seeing mostly his flaws and mistakes.

Like, one example of Fortiche's sleight of hand is the moment Jayce gets on stage is probably the moment he seems most egotistical, most like he's going to start bulldozing Viktor to achieve his own glory. Except he invites Viktor on the stage, and then when Viktor gives him a clear, "No" he very graciously does not push Viktor any further, and then he goes up there and he does what his wiser mentor asked by not pushing a dangerous innovation before it's ready (I actually thing Heimerdinger was in the wrong there). But they also drop the mug over Viktor's face in what seems like a sign of Jayce's corruption but what later turns out to be Viktor's POV of how the Man of Progress image comes between him and Jayce from Viktor's point of view, even though Jayce is constantly reaching out to him and trying to include him. Again, subverted corruption arc, but it's hidden in the details.

Then, on each subsequent rewatch (of MANY) I began to like Jayce a little more, began to look beneath the surface more, and began to see things from his point of view instead of through the surface level direction and blocking of a scene. And the closer I watched/read the more I began to think, "Wait a minute, is this guy actually kind of a sweetheart and most of the "bad" things he did were out of his control??" Then of course, S2 Jayce's arc came in and blew the doors off my heart, but the basis of that character was there from the beginning.

But there are other things Fortiche/Arcane do to make Jayce seem egotistical but which on closer analysis are just sort of... normal things to do or are common with a lot of people from Piltover?

Preening and fixing his tie in a mirror while Viktor does research seems egotistical, it's a way egotistical characters are often signaled in visual arts. But actually, it's pretty normal to try to look your best before an important meeting or event, and the reason he's doing this while Viktor is working is so Jayce can spare Viktor this headache. Jayce would rather be in the lab too! But he goes out there and acts as the face of Hextech because one of them needs to do it. Don't get me wrong, Jayce could also like to look nice, but I think it matters that he's not seeking out a political career, it is literally thrust upon him and then he rises to the occasion.

Jayce is super duper buff, like insanely buff, in a way that feels like it should lead to egotism, but then we learn it's just a natural outcome of the fact he works with his hands. He doesn't really seem to notice it, or try to make use of it. If anything, he tends to cover up his musculature when not working, he wears his suits buttoned to the throat and wrists. His outfits do accentuate his already insane shoulders, but that's actually really a common look in Piltover, Caitlyn's uniform has the same shoulder pauldrons you'll notice. And his outfits are pretty tight which is really just a gift to all of us (lol) but again, is actually just pretty common in all Piltover fashion, people tend to wear form-fitting clothes there.

Jayce is clean-cut and clean shaven in a way that evokes a lot of pretty boy bullies. It makes his face seem extremely punchable, especially when he's mugging for the camera as the Man of Progress. But personally, I take that look as part of his people-pleasing. This does fall more into the headcanon range, but I'd point out that he's a big guy, one of the tallest in the show, with broad shoulders and what could be an intimidating build. But instead of trying to look intimidating, he leans into his boyishness, he tries to look like, "A nice young man."

I'd argue his look is actually him trying not to look threatening, because when he stops giving a fuck post-Anomaly, he stops shaving or cutting his hair and he looks super freakin' intimidating immediately (and hot as hell omg) but like, now he's a big guy with a beard and shaggy hair and he takes up space and you realize how much he's been avoiding taking up space or looking intimidating before that when he very much could at any time.

Look, Jayce is a good looking guy. I do think he has some ego. He takes care of his appearance, he dresses well, and he works at being perceived a certain way. But the idea that he cares about being the Man of Progress or that he is presenting himself for ego reasons is just... footage not found. I think he's got a normal guy level of ego and even is very humble considering what he's accomplished. And I think people are underestimating how much of his apparent "preening" is actually self-effacing and trying to present a polite, deferent image to others (he often stands with his hands behind his back when speaking to someone of higher rank, for example). The clothes he wears in public are mostly uniforms in S1, either an Academy uniform denoting him as an academic, or the House Talis colors to show him as a member of a House, which is how Piltover society functions. He does dress differently in the lab, but I'd argue not in a flashy way.

Anyway, I just like this guy a lot and got carried away rambling about him. I don't want to overcorrect and say he has NO ego but I would say he has a lot LESS ego than S1 Jayce haters would acknowledge.

[aoflameandco]

Runs in the family: the mystery behind the heterochromia

One of my favorite tropes in DanteLady fanfics is Dante adoring Lady's mismatched eyes. But who did she inherit such a unique trait from? DMC3 and Netflix give us different answers, and I dare say it's not a coincidence.

Let's start from the origins. While reading about character designs in the "Devil May Cry 3142 Graphic Arts" book, I came across the following info:

Lady, Arkham and Jester's heterochromia was an angle Itsuno really pushed for.

As you can see, Lady's heterochromia in the game is clearly something she got from her father. It's safe to assume that the heavy emphasis on her eyes when she first meets Dante was meant to give the player a hint that yeah, this badass girl and the creepy bald guy from before are somehow connected.

Let's pay attention to the colors too. Lady and Arkham's eyes look almost identical when the lighting doesn't affect our perception. The lighter eye ranges from blue to gray and gray-green, the darker one from brown to red. But then there's Arkham's demonic alter ego, Jester, with his glowing orbs: blue and red.

This may be why the DMC 2007 anime design for Lady favors blue over green.

Sadly, dmc3 never showed Lady's mother, Kalina Ann, so it's hard to say if Lady inherited anything from her visually. Before Netflix, the only source of speculation was the DMC3 manga, which unfortunately never reached the volume dedicated to Lady. However, it did bless us and Dante with this sweet family portrait.

Sure, manga isn't the best format for guessing eye color. However, it did confirm that Kalina's genes are in fact strong. So strong that they completely took over in the Netflix show.

Meet John Arkham, a man denied of his heterochromia. At least he wasn't always bald. But there's no doubt that little Mary is a mini-copy of her mom.

And here's where things get interesting. As you know, Lady's backstory is different in the show. John Arkham wasn't a power-mad black arts mastermind, in fact he used to be a respected professor at NYU who genuinely loved his family. The number of family photos in their house is also telling, and unlike in the manga, he's present in them.

In this universe, he never thought about sacrificing his loving wife to gain demonic power. And he certainly never tracked down the ancient bloodlines of priestesses. This Arkham had no cultist mindset, he was a man of science. But, what a pity, science also drives you crazy.

Having confirmed one of his old theories in the worst possible way and unable to admit his own weakness, John isolated himself from his family and threw himself into experiments. It is a good question who supplied him with demonic arms though. In any case, a line was crossed. Kalina Ann tried to stop her husband - and again, even though Arkham's black board got some summoning circles on it - in this story his wife isn't a necessary ritual component, but an obstacle on John's path to self-destruction.

A mysterious bloody injection summoned Jester. Or at least a proto-version of him, without his irritating sense of humor but with a raging thirst for blood. Note that both of Vampjester's eyes were red - until he bit Kalina's neck.

And then suddenly dmc3 accurate heterochromia appeared. The blue and red orbs. Finally the whole Arkham family was (mis)matching...

Now it raises the question: would any blood "complete" the transformation or was his wife's blood really special? Because now not only Jester, but John himself is stuck with heterochromia, albeit different from his wife and daughter.

Honestly, the whole Arkham family drama in the show keeps an intrigue. I don't believe it's over and Dr. Arkham just died in a fire. His demonic form continues to prey on Mary's mind, and it would be a shame not to show Jester in all his glory after all that teasing.

But was the priestess lineage plot completely abandoned? Since the whole point of activating the amulet was already explored without it. Sure, we have no Temen-ni-gru yet, so there's no need to sacrafice the priestesses. But who knows? Maybe, just like Dante and Vergil inherited their father's appearance and power, Lady being a copy of Kalina has a deeper meaning. Maybe the ancient priestess if she ever existed in this universe also had a heterochromia. And maybe Adi wasn't trolling by asking about Lady's priestess powers on Twitter now that's the least realistic part

I'd love to hear your thoughts! What do you think of the changes to the Arkham design? The adaptation of the family backstory in general? Do you believe in the Lady Priestess? Also, since I'm far from being a DMC veteran, I may be missing something or misinterpreting some little things, so please feel free to correct me and guide my soul to the light!

[rowinablx]

Listen up, you self-proclaimed Last of Us "fans" whining about the HBO show being "woke" garbage: sit down and shut the fuck up. You’re embarrassing yourselves. The show’s got queer characters? Boo-fucking-hoo. Have you even played the games you claim to worship? Or did you just skip the cutscenes and button-mash through the clickers? Newsflash: The Last of Us has been gay as hell since day one, and your tantrums about "forced diversity" only prove you’ve got the media literacy of the games moldy spores

Let’s start with Left Behind, the DLC for the first game. Ellie and Riley? That wasn’t just gal-pal energy—that was a full-on, heart-wrenching, canon queer love story. They kissed. They danced. They dreamed of a world that wasn’t a fungal hellscape. Naughty Dog didn’t hide it; they leaned into it. Ellie’s queerness isn’t some HBO invention—it’s baked into her character. If you’re shocked the show kept that, you weren’t paying attention in 2014.

Then there’s The Last of Us Part II. Oh, you thought that was "woke" too? Sure. It’s a masterpiece of storytelling, and—surprise!—it’s even gayer. Ellie’s relationship with Dina? Central to the plot. Tender, messy, real. Lev, a trans character, treated with respect and depth? Yep, that’s there too. The game doesn’t shove it in your face; it just is. Because queer people exist. Always have. If that feels like an agenda to you, maybe the agenda’s your own fragile ego.

And don’t even get me started on Bill and Frank. The show gave us a beautiful, gut-punch of a love story between two gruff survivalists, expanding on a relationship the first game only hinted at. You call that "woke"? No, it’s called good writing. It’s called honoring the source material while fleshing out what the game couldn’t. But you’re too busy screaming about "WOKENESS RUINING THE LAST OF US" to notice the Emmy-worthy performances.

You know what’s really woke? Your selective outrage. You’ll cheer for Joel’s body count, Ellie’s knife skills, and all the gruesome headshots, but the second two dudes hold hands or Ellie kisses a girl, it’s “ruining the story”? Pathetic. The games and the show are about humanity—love, loss, survival—in all its messy glory. Queer people are part of that. Always were. If you can’t handle it, maybe you’re the one who doesn’t belong in this world.

So, take your fake fandom and your dog-whistle buzzwords and shove ‘em. The Last of Us—games and show—isn’t for cowards who can’t face reality. Go replay Call of Duty or something and leave the grown-up stories to those of us who can handle a little truth.

[advent-if]

DEMO TBA 🌑 CHARACTER INTROS (5/5)

A fine line separates civilians from saviours, saints from sinners; it was never a line you expected to cross, but one you did anyway. Now, the fate of Advent City’s clueless citizens or cunning criminals rests in your hands… best not to let it slip from your fingers, mm?

Thirteen years ago, your life changed. Thirteen years ago, you swore requital. Now, the opportunity has arisen for you to either defend the city from the dark or rid it from the rot spreading throughout its core. 

Now, it’s your turn.

Play as Advent City’s saviour, a daring vigilante here to protect those you love or ruin those you hate — the choice is up to you. Learn to inspire fear, earn respect, fall in love, or even become the greatest superhero this city has ever known.

ADVENT is rated 18+ for explicit language, violence, explicit sexual content, substance abuse, and more. It deals with heavy themes; discretion is advised.

Customise your character’s appearance, personality and intentions: are you a hero spurred by the desire to protect, or an anti-hero propelled by the promise of retribution? Does your alter-ego vastly differ from your day-to-day life, or is it an extension of your nature? Are you ruthless or compassionate, ingenious or Machiavellian, courageous or psychopathic?

Choose your origin story: were you a rich orphan à la Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark, a Regular Joe turned hero on being given powers by a mysterious force, or born with them for reasons you’re desperate to find?

Fight villains who threaten the safety of the city and its inhabitants, and maybe even a supervillain who happens to be your foil…

Romance 1 of 5 characters, each of whom come with their own hefty baggage, and have interesting(?) reactions to yours…

Manage your new life and all its nuances. Who said being a saviour was easy? Try to separate your old life from this new one by keeping your identity a secret, maintaining old relationships, forging new ones, keeping your loved ones safe, etc. etc… damn.

the Head of Police: Luis/Luz Aguilera (m/f): Stern, sexy, moody. Relentlessly hardworking and caring to the point of no return. They want to be the one to clean Advent City’s fucked up system, not for glory, but simply because it’s the right thing to do. Unfortunately for them, that also means putting up with your whole shebang… maybe try to keep the arguing to a minimum?

the Journalist: Vincent “Vinny” Jacobs (m): Cheeky, suave, opportunistic. Inordinately ambitious and impressively dedicated to their cause. He’d never miss an opportunity to investigate something deeper if it intrigued him enough. Unfortunately for you, he’s now focused solely on the up and coming vigilante stalking the streets. Uh oh.

the Childhood Friend: Arya Anand (m/f): Sweet, thoughtful, kind. Patient to a fault and excessively trusting. You guys knew each other really well, once upon a time. But now that they're back, years later, you’re not quite convinced by the “I’m okay”s and forced smiles they seem to be hiding under. Surely it has nothing to do with you, right?

the Other One: Nian (f): Unpredictable, flirty, mysterious. Fast to arrive and quick to disappear. She’s someone you meet often in your… line of work… and curiously, she’s always ready to help you. Behind her mask and catsuit is someone you suspect is dangerously similar to you. As long as you two have the same goal, it shouldn’t be a problem…

the Heir: Josephine/Joseph Bieri (f/m): Arrogant, cunning, brash. Annoyingly haughty and odiously elusive. They were an asshole when you first met five years ago, and seem to be an even bigger one now… worse, they’re in the way between you and taking down their Mafia kingpin dad. Although, getting close could give you an advantage - just try not to punch them.

reblogs are appreciated! thank you so much for your interest <3

[burningcheese-merchant]

Golden Cheese’s wings had come in just a few weeks ago, and quite late, according to what she knew of her species. Usually, a Phoenix's wings sprouted during early teenagehood, but hers came when she was already almost 18.

She'd spent hours and hours combing through every inch of them, days watching the pin feathers slowly mature and their keratin sheath flake off so she could preen them to perfection. It had been a painfully long process, there were no other winged people around, let alone phoenixes, so she had to do it all by herself.

But now here she was, gold and turquoise wings shiny and huge and perfect. Except… Golden Cheese didn't know what to do with them. Fly, of course. But no matter how much she tried, she couldn't take flight. The thought of flying was exciting yet so terrifying at the same time, she couldn't even hover a few inches off the ground without her heart leaping to her throat.

It was such a pity too, she had wanted to surprise her best friend, the Herald of Change, by flying into his temple in all her golden, newly winged glory. She could imagine what face he'd make upon seeing her and it made her giddy. Alas, that would have to stay in her imagination.

The Herald was so busy most days, and as they both got older, he became burdened with even more responsibilities, to the point they could barely hang out anymore. But now, Golden Cheese had the perfect excuse to drag him out of that stuffy temple. He could never refuse her when she was insistent.

The boy, now man, really, stared at her wings as she proudly spun around to show them off. His open mouthed, amazed expression inflated her ego like you wouldn't believe “So, will you help me?” she asked

His face fell, and he looked to the side almost in guilt “...Not today, I don't think. But when I can, I will, I promise!”

Golden Cheese frowned “What? No way, come on, come on! Let's do it right now! It won't take more than an hour!” she grasped his hands with her own.

He inevitably relented.

It took much more than an hour. It took days, in fact. But eventually, Golden Cheese managed to flap her wings and stay a few feet off the ground, hands on a death grip around The Herald’s forearms as she gently grasped onto hers.

He could tell that she would not go further than this If It depended on her, so he did something a little foolish. He tightened his grip on her and started to run. As fast as he could.

His friend screamed at him to stop, threatening to kill him, priests be damned. But the wind on his back told him her wings were flapping, and once she stopped screaming and the sound of flapping became steady, he let go.

It took her a couple seconds to muster the courage to let go of him, but she did. And she flew. Higher and higher into the air, to the point she became a tiny speck in the bright blue sky. The Herald of Change watched in wonder as she slowly came down, he thought she was about to land, but was surprised when she started to fly in circles.

Golden Cheese’s wings shone in the Sun like fire, watching her was a spectacle for his eyes only. It was the most beautiful thing he's ever had the honor of witnessing, a moment that would never, ever leave his memory.

High above, her laughter was almost inaudible, but her delight was his delight. His beautiful phoenix, flying free and circling above him. He could never get enough of her.

If, somehow, The Herald of Change became The Great Destroyer, golden bird imagery would be heavily associated with him. In almost every single tapestry or artwork dedicated to him, It would be there, flying above the Destroyer himself.

And Golden Cheese, the goddess of wealth and ruler of the Golden city, would stare at them with confusion, and strange familiarity.

(A gift for you, I really like your blog! Was thinking about them a lot today)

This is so beautiful 😭😭😭 what have I done to deserve this cuteness 😭😭😭 thank you so so much, I love it! You write so well! GC and BS being dear friends that tragically drift apart due to heroic responsibilities is so... ugh, my heart. Friendship that evolves into romance that eventually ends in tragedy is peak. I can't thank you enough man, this made my day!!!

(ugh... The golden bird imagery featured in all of his artworks... Imagine he's shown always reaching for that bird, his body language and expression suggesting such painful longing... Fury and hunger in some, grief in others, all of them always bordering on desperation for her... I feel so ill rn)

[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝓣𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝓣𝐨 𝓜𝐞

pairing kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | wc: 1.8k

summary -> a day that goes your way. warnings -> none.

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

7:09PM

Time had slipped by, and as the days flew by quickly, there were no abrupt changes in your schedule, still leaving a lot left to be desired from your normal day-to-day. Sae-byeok began to make more frequent appearances at the orphanage, her visits often stretching for hours on end as she quietly kept Cheol company. Always talking quietly to him to keep the peace in their own little bubble, shared smiles, and poorly concealed laughter showcased just how close they were as siblings, a small tug on your heartstrings happening every time you walked past the visitor area to get a quick glimpse of them.

Yet, like clockwork, she’d end up disappearing for days at a time once her injuries healed, only to soon return with fresh marks on her skin—bruises and cuts adorning her skin, showing a brutal side to her that she kept concealed. It was as if her long felts of absences were silent declarations of something raw, something she refused to acknowledge no matter how much you pried.

You truly worried for her, always being unsure if the next time you saw her would be you or Cheol’s very last. Anxiety couldn't help but continue to bubble inside you with her resistance. Every time you attempted to check in, to offer even a hint of concern, she deflected, retreating behind the same curt, almost robotic phrase: “I’m fine.” as if it was something she had been taught to say instead of feel. The faint limp in her step, the weary slant of her shoulders, the cuts on her hands, the bruises on her face, the swell of her left eye, all telling a different story. That she was everything but fine.

With the added uneasiness of wondering about Sae-Byeok’s health, there was also a relieved air that brushed over you at the absence of your boyfriend. After his less than desirable return, he decided to stay at his own apartment for a little while instead of crash at yours, his excuse—not that he needed one—was because he needed space, feeling as though he needed to get his feelings sorted out, while simultaneously hinting at the solution of a breakup. You showed no indifference to his choice, not a smile even when you were bouncing off of the walls excited, but also not a frown to feign heartache in a play to stroke his already huge ego.

He didn't like your reaction, leaving in a huff like he usually did and he hadn't returned in a week or so, his radio silence being a serene peacefulness to what he usually brought you.

You rolled your neck to release the tightness in it, You had been on your feet since 5 in the morning, having to work an early shift at Café Gippeum, while also having to be at the orphanage by 11. Throughout your shift your eyes couldn't help but trail back to the array of treats that sat on the display. All of them glistening in their own delicious glory.

Feeling a tug towards the banana bread that sat untouched. You hadn’t seen Sae-Byeok eat it before—or anything at all quite frankly, you had just hoped that the fullness of the sweet bread would be enough to get her through the rest of the afternoon.

Arriving at the orphanage, you had to take a minute to gather yourself in your car. Practicing on how you’d give the treat to her, anticipating with crossed fingers that she’s there today, as well as doesn't completely reject the offering of bread you brought her.

The first thing you did as you walked into the house was greet the children in the lunchroom before walking towards the visitor area, thankfully spotting Sae-byeok but this time she was alone, Cheol most-likely running off somewhere to seek out yet another of his little creations to share. You approached her slowly, your steps deliberate, unsure on whether it was an appropriate time or not to intrude on her solitude. Yet something inside you, possibly a desperate hope, urged you forward to her. Forcing you to do something—anything.

You carried two thick slices of banana bread wrapped in a napkin and a chilled water bottle you had grabbed from the fridge on your way out of the lunchroom, both simple offerings, but ones that felt important to you and ones that hopefully showed her how much you cared.

Her head lifting at the sound of your soft approaching footsteps. Her gaze, soft, and gentle, different from her usual judgy pierce. “It’s not much,” you murmured, holding the food toward her. “But I noticed you stay here during the kids’ morning stretch and nap time. They usually have two meals and two snacks by then.” you add on quietly, your eyes trailing back and forth from the bread to her eyes.

Sae-byeok’s gaze shrink as they flickered to the bread, scanning it briefly with a look that could only be described as skeptical, almost dismissive.

“You—uh, You don’t have to eat it,” you said quickly, your voice quieter, more uncertain now. “But… it’s here if you need it.” you gently stammered before setting down the items in front of her. The awkwardness of the moment hung thick in the air as you took a small step back, feeling her eyes on you, but avoiding their weight by staring down at your feet.

With a murmur of a quick apology, you bowed before turning to head outside where the rest of the children were starting to retreat after lunch. Leaving her to herself and soon Cheol, wherever he may be.

You could feel the vibrating joy from the kids who were finally free to run outside after a string of rainy days had kept them indoors. Their excited voices filled the yard as they ran around gleefully, a smile stretching on your face as you watched them.

Your moment of tranquility sadly interrupted at the sound of your mom calling out to you. Your eyes wavered on the kids, leaving them to play together and enjoy their own little world that they've created. Slowly you started to make your way toward the swinging bench that sat on the side of the yard, your eyes flickering to the window of the visitors area as Sae-byeok lingered on your mind.

Your eyes found her immediately. Still sitting this time with Cheol by her side. He was talking animatedly, his hands making grand gestures as he shared whatever tale had caught his imagination. Sae-byeok fully absorbed in the story, her cheeks round and stuffed with banana bread, her doe-like eyes soft and attentive as she nodded along to his words. Her water bottle, half-full, rested beside her, forgotten for the moment as she brought a hand up to cover her smile at something funny Cheol must’ve said. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—Cheol’s energy infectious, and Sae-byeok’s rare moment of quiet contentment touching, you wish you saw that side of her more.

You tore your gaze away quickly, turning towards the bench your mother sat on, the familiar pull of responsibility tugging at you. She wasn’t the type to wait long, and you didn’t want to be caught staring at something you couldn’t quite define.

Your gaze then found your mothers, her hand holding two cups of tea, and her head gesturing over to the available seat next to her. A bit of surprise fell over you as you slowly fell into the seat next to her, grabbing the glass of a tea with a grateful smile and a gentle nod not being used to her actually wanting to spend one on one time with you.

“How are you doing, sweetie? You seem a little… distant lately.” she interjects first before bringing her mug to her lips.

“I’m fine, just busy. You know, same old stuff.” you reply, your eyes falling on your own mug that laid in your lap, watching as the liquid moved languidly with the soft sways of the bench.

“I know things have been a bit off lately… I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping to yourself more.” she adds, her eyes flickering from the kids over to your figure for a split second,

“Just a lot on my mind. I’ll get over it.” you mutter quickly with a shrug of your shoulders, resistant on going down a path of talking about your feelings on a day as pretty as the one you were having.

There's a moment of silence, your mothers head fully turning towards yours, her eyes trailing up and down your figure before finally asking “What’s going on, really? You know you can talk to me, right?”

You let out a small sigh, your shoulders slumped forward, a slight hesitancy in the way you speak “I—I don’t know. It’s just… you know me and David aren’t on the best terms right now.”

With furrowed eyebrows your mother starts to pry a little more. “What happened? You two were so close not too long ago.” she asked, Oh right, you never told her about the situation before he left.

With a frustrated sigh you murmure out “Things just… fell apart. We’ve been fighting a lot and I don’t think we’re in the same place anymore. My heart just hasn't been in the same place for a while.”

A soft hum leaves her and a moment of silence follows. “Your heart hasn't been in the same place…is there someone else?” she suddenly asks, her shoulder bumping into yours teasingly.

“I—no! No, no, no. I just haven't been-” you cut yourself off, giving your mother a deadpan stare at the look she gives you with a teasing smile, her eyebrows lifting up and down in a mocking way.

Your mother giggled at the look you shot her way, a playful glint in her eye as she continued to relentlessly tease you. You tried fighting the smile on your face but couldn't hold it back, letting out a flurry of laughter as you gave into her playful taunts.

Despite the way her questions made you squirm and want to burrow yourself in the ground out of embarrassment, there was something undeniably familiar about her warmth. You didn’t always like the way she handled things, but in the end, she was the woman that raised you. Blood or not, she was still your mother, even when there was a flickering light inside of you that hoped and prayed for the arrival of your birth mom if she was still out there.

As her teasing continued, you found yourself glancing once more towards the visitor area. This time, Sae-byeok’s gaze met yours, direct and unblinking. Cheol too focused on his drawing to notice, yet Sae-byeok, almost as if uncertain, lifted her hand in a small, hesitant wave. Without thinking, you returned the gesture, your wave shy, unsure of how to handle the sudden, quiet connection that hung between you, a wordless bridge formed in the space between.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here @monroesturnns