#but didn't rlly matter lmao

[cepheusgalaxy]

@clickerflight @whump-art-exchange

Image ID: An ink drawing of Kolt, naked, from the whump series Fallen. He is bruised and looks away as the chain attached to his collar is tugged. He is inside what appears to be a cell, with multiple eyes on the walls watching him intensely. /end ID.

Ok, so, I tried to do this like two times and it took me a while to lay the sketch. I had an idea for what to do--i went to give the series a shot, once i noticed this buddy here is a part of one so i could get better context--and so the idea i had was for making something from his villain days! It appears that Kolt as a villain was very intriguing (at least for me) but I couldn't make a sketch I was satisfied with, so I decided to go more whumpy! I remember a part where Kolt is in his recovery and he remembers when multiple people were watching and mocking him....couldn't get this over my head. Overall, I haven't finished it yet, but Fallen is a great series! They write it so well!

Art taglist:

@for-the-love-of-angst

[bixiaoshi]

my mom trying to get me to say that i am smart is so funny to me

[yukinyaminyato]

i wanna cut my hair but i also wanna dye it blue first so. 😐 guess i’ll have my plans set for next week (bc during weekend i don’t have time) 🧐

[cussima]

i shifted accidentally for the first time last night 😭

it wasn't my first time shifting, but it was my first time shifting on accident to a reality completely unknown to me 😭 Anyway here's that (long, quite detailed) story time !! (with reaction pics of course 😋)

i was so tired last night, and i had to wake up at 7AM today, i wanted my mind to be quiet so i could fall asleep easily and not have any vivid/random dreams (they make it so i can't rest well)

my subconscious with a different plan:

i remember being asleep here, lying on my bed and the darkness of my room, and all of the sudden i was standing in front of a white haired professor in a school in JAPAN !!!

now I don't have any japanese drs, or am close to anything japanese for that matter (i dont watch anime, etc etc) i think maybe i thought how i'd like to go to a tokyo grand prix for five seconds yesterday but that was it 😭 there was absolutely no reason for me to have woken up in a different country AND AT A SCHOOL !! for that matter like i genuinely have no idea what happened.

ANYWAYS...

the professor just talked about how i was new and my professors, and classmates, and all (i don't remember exactly what he said but when i woke up i knew it was an introductory "welcome to this school talk) and sent me to a classroom where i got way too worked up about a sexist mf, i kinda yelled at him for being sexist and the shit he was saying.

(i didn't YELL i confronted him and told him his ideology was stupid and might've given him (thrown...ish) some stuff to him but it was on topic i promise it was more like i landed him... some trash... like i put it at his feet for him to pick up okay, let's move on)

then i left that class !! but it was just as other classes were about to begin and another guy that had been in that class with me dragged me into another classroom because he had liked me (he didn't say it but he was rlly nice to me so i assumed he liked me) (liked me as in yk he didn't hate me after the whole class confrontation, i just had so he wasn't as bad as that other mf !!, im not saying he fell in love w me just in case anybody gets confused) (also the classroom wasn't empty he just had another class and dragged me along with him)

in that classroom he told me to put my hood on (i was wearing a black cotton jacket with a hood on it, we didn't have uniforms) and to not draw too much attention to myself (it was an all boys class, so if the professor found out im a girl she would've kicked me out and tbh idk what i would've done 😔)

and then the teacher came in, (i wanna describe her bc she was sooo,,, teacher core LMAO she had a big nose, glasses, red hair up, burgundy sweater and a white sort of lab coat thingy) introduced the class, and said she was going to play a movie, closed the class curtains and that's when i started remembering i had shifted here.

she played the movie (looking back at it now, i think they might've picked up from where they had left off in a previous class)

it was a movie with rupert grint where he was an adult and he had discovered like a magical realm, i remember i thought of harry potter (bc of rupert) and knowing that had never existed there, he had never been ron. There was also a blonde woman (gorgeous long blonde hair kinda looked like tilda swinton) and a little girl that was somehow related to Rupert's character.

I realized that movie didn't exist in this reality and that's when I sort of began panicking and remembered i had Actually shifted there

I decided to check my 5 senses but then I realized I don't know the steps to do it....

like i have to 5 what 4 what 3 what 2 what 1 what

so i just touched the desk where i was sitting, i touched the paper from the boy's notebooks and more stuff i can't remember, i remember wanting to touch the pencils inside the pencilcases but I couldn't be loud + those weren't mine !! and then i breathed in a couple times

and then i opened my eyes here again

now I know that stuff really doesn't work for me it just brings me back to my dr, because im just trying to remember what the tiktok i saw on this reality about the 5 senses method said 😭

ALSO !!

something i didn't mention is that when I walked into the second classroom, i got nervous when i realized it was an all boys class. I don't know what the class was on, i was looking around frantically, the curtains surprised me they were dark and i had never seen dark gray curtains in a classroom (what a stupid culture shock 😭)

when the teacher came in i put my hair on my eyes to FAKE A FRINGE !!! I didn't listen to her at all when she began the class, and then another guy with big blue eyes was mouthing something to me and the boy behind me, the boy i was with said "he's deaf just read his lips"

MF I DON'T KNOW HOW TO READ LIPS ?!?

so now im nervous as fuck about not being able to read his lips and looking like an asshole that doesn't want to talk to deaf people

all while trying not to get kicked out of this class !!

it was A Lot of information to take in 😭 no wonder i shifted back i was being silly af

also THEN i shifted to a reality where my phone had barely charged (it had a decent amount of battery after i shifted, it went from 75% at 5AM when i woke up from my shift to 25% at 7AM)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull. 

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all. 

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal. 

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural. 

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios. 

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal. 

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline? 

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up. 

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!” 

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house. 

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.  

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment. 

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter. 

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents. 

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?” 

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh. 

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest. 

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark. 

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse. 

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt. 

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.” 

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’” 

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it. 

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment. 

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself. 

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?”

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair. 

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades. 

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek. 

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night. 

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice. 

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone. 

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well. 

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background. 

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong. 

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash. 

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter. 

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes. 

Dad’s home. 

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like. 

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen. 

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time. 

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously. 

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured. 

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor. 

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried. 

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.” 

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.” 

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin. 

But John didn’t care. 

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you? 

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form. 

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present. 

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.” 

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe. 

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen. 

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose. 

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling. 

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.” 

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could. 

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation. 

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street. 

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut. 

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?” 

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl.  “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

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[vernons-girl]

hi! yeah um i.. read ur newest fic 'not her' with kmg and i kind of wanted to add a continuation to that...? (only if u want to ofc!)

so basically reader got her heart broken by mingyu and her sister, soooo she goes on and vents her feelings and how heart broken she is to another one of her pals, seungcheol (without knowing seungcheol likes reader) so he comforts her and u can probably add the ending (fluff or angst or anything!)

im sorry this is too long.. i rlly tried to make it shorter lmao (btw i LUV ur fics so much)

not her | kim mingyu - choi seungcheol pt.2

PART 1 ; PART 2 ; PART 3 (final)

angst, fluff,wc:2.5k

taglist: @gaslysainz ; @graybaeismytae ; @mansaaay

a/n: did i completely put mingyu aside in this part? yes. will i make a part three where we really dive into the drama with everyone kdrama love triangle way? you guys tell me hehe

You couldn't bear looking at the scene that was unfolding in front of your eyes so you gathered your stuff in a hurry and left, completely forgetting the idea of shopping for a new outfit.

You made it home in record time. Rushing to lock yourself in your room once you made it through the door.

Mingyu choosing someone else than you was one thing, but your sister going behind your back to betray you, after you had confided in her? That was a whole other thing.

You couldn't help but cry as soon as you found yourself alone in the comfort of your room. You were feeling too many things at the same time and couldn't quite pinpoint why you were crying. Was it the pain? The anger? The disappointment? The heartbreak? Maybe it was all of it at once.

You couldn't bare the idea of having to face any of them about the issue right now, let alone having to see your sister when she would get back home, so you did the first thing that came to mind : you packed an overnight bag, texted your most trustful friend and headed over to his place.

You reached Seungcheol's place about an hour after you had texted him. You hadn't told him much over text, actually you hadn't told him anything besides 'can i come spend the night?' to which he agreed, of course, he didn't need to know why you needed to spend the night over at his place when you had a perfectly decent bed of your own, he just agreed without any further questions.

He greeted you at the door with a worried look on his face that he couldn't conceal no matter how hard he tried. You've confided in him before, but never did it feel so worrying. Without a second thought, he pulled you inside with a hug. The action broke down all the walls you had tried to build on your way there instantly. You felt as if you were falling apart in his arms, melting in his embrace perhaps, and you let the tears stream down your face, not caring about the embarrassing whines coming out of your mouth as you did so. He didn't seem to care either. Because all he did was hold you, closely, firmly but carefully, rubbing soothing circles on your back, shushing you like one would do with a baby. But it all felt so right amongst all the chaos around you that you let yourself be in the moment, until he pulled you straight on your feet to lead you to the living room, "Come on, let's talk about this around a warm drink, yeah?" he said, trying his best to show off a reassuring smile.

You obliged and sat down on the couch as Seungcheol got some snacks ready along with something to drink. In the meantime you allowed yourself to relax, sunking down onto the couch wishing it could somehow swallow you whole.

Thankfully, Seungcheol joined you pretty quickly so you didn't have the time to get lost in your thoughts once again. You straightened up to grab the cup he was handing out to you from the tray he had placed on the coffee table in front of you.

"Sooooo..." Seungcheol started, he didn't want to push you into it but he still needed to at least have an idea of what was going on.

You took a sip of your drink followed by a deep breath.

"So... I had a crush on this guy, and I genuinely thought that he could like me, you know?" you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes once again.

"And I wasn't the only one thinking this.. my sister thought so too." Seungcheol now had a curious look and urged you to keep going.

"I was supposed to meet up with him in a few days and I really wanted to confess, I really did." this time, the tears fell from your eyes, you couldn't help it, it was so fresh, so hard, your body needed to express this unbearable inner pain it was feeling.

Seungcheol offered some comfort with his free hand coming to rub up and down your arm, "We don't have to talk about it any more if you don't feel like it," he reassured you.

"No, it's okay, you affirmed, so, you started again, I wanted to make things right, I wanted to impress him, to make him like me any more than he might already do, so I went to the mall to do some shopping, a sob escaped from your dry lips, but then I saw them, him, her" you sniffled, letting out shaky breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down.

"Them ? Him? Her?" Seungcheol asked.

"My crush and my sister" you finally said, your heart breaking a little more. The look on your friend's face changed to... confusion?

"Wait so you saw your sister with your crush at the mall? What about it?

- They were kissing, Seungcheol. Kissing."

Upon hearing this last word, his expression morphed to anger in a matter of seconds.

"What the fuck?!" he suddenly exclaimed, almost slamming his mug down onto the table.

"She kissed him knowing you liked him? This is so twisted. I can't believe it." He let out in disbelief, rubbing a hand down his face.

"And he didn't tell me either. He never told me he was seeing someone. What if she told him about my crush on him and they both fucked me over? you put your face in both on your hands, crying softly, What am I supposed to do now Seungcheol?" you questioned desperately, almost pleading him for an answer.

He leaned back in his seat, looking up in thought.

"Who is he?" he finally asked.

"Who's who?" okay maybe it wasn't the best idea to play dumb, but how could you tell him that Mingyu, your friend who also happens to be one of Seungcheol's, broke your heart ?

"The guy, he said firmly, who's the guy?" ok so now he wasn't playing. You've never seen him look this serious before, the concern and anger still obvious on his face.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the worst when you breathed out : "Mingyu."

He clenched his fists upon hearing the name leave your shaky lips. As a matter of fact, his whole body tensed.

"So you saw Mingyu kissing your sister who knew you liked Mingyu ?" he summarized.

"Yeah.." you confirmed, your gaze lingering on the floor, the carpet curiously looking much more interesting than you friend who was sitting across from you.

"Does she know ? he asked

-Mh?

-Your sister. Does she know you saw them ?

-No, they didn't see me and I came over before she got home, so we didn't talk about it.

-And do you think he knew?

-Knew what ?

-That you liked him ?

-I don't know.. I don't think so, you reasoned, he would never be so cruel. you affirmed

-Yeah, you're probably right.." Seungcheol agreed, even though he wanted nothing but to punch his dear friend in the face for hurting you, he also knew it wasn't his style to hurt people's feelings. I mean this guy literally apologized to his last girlfriend for breaking up with her so of course he wasn't going to hurt one of his closest friends.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "This is a messed up situation, no doubt about it," he muttered, his expression reflecting a mixture of concern and anger.

You nodded, feeling a bit of relief knowing Seungcheol was there to listen, even if he couldn't magically fix everything. It was nice knowing there was at least one person you could trust in this whole mess.

After a moment of silence, Seungcheol leaned forward, taking both of your hands in his, his eyes fixed on you. "Listen, I know it hurts like hell right now, but you're stronger than this. I'm not going to tell you to not think about it because I know it feels impossible right now but you need to focus on yourself, okay ?

- Yeah.. you replied.

- What do you need right now?"

You thought for a moment, wiping away the tears that still lingered. "I just... I need some time to figure things out. Away from all of this," you said, gesturing vaguely around you.

Seungcheol nodded in understanding. "Alright. I get it. You can stay here as long as you need. I'll be here for you, okay?"

You managed a weak smile, feeling a sliver of hope, "Thank you, Seungcheol. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiled back, a reassuring presence in the middle of all of this turmoil. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. Just take it one step at a time. And remember, you're not alone in this." he finally said, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze.

And as you glanced over at Seungcheol, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest, realizing just how much he truly cared for you. Perhaps, in the midst of all this chaos, there was a silver lining after all—a silver lining named Seungcheol.

"Come on, let's get you settled in bed, yeah?" he said, standing up and offering his hand out for you to take. You did so and followed him down the hallway.

As Seungcheol led you to the spare bedroom where you would be spending the night, he couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside him. On one hand, he was glad to be able to offer you a comfortable place to rest after everything you'd been through. But on the other hand, he couldn't shake the pang of jealousy he felt at the thought of you sleeping under the same roof in a bed that wasn't his.

As he pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillows, he tried to push aside those selfish thoughts. After all, what mattered most was that you were safe and comfortable. But as he glanced over at you, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked in the soft light of the bedside lamp, your eyes heavy with exhaustion yet still so full of resilience.

"Here you go," he said, gesturing to the bed. "I hope you'll be comfortable here."

You offered him a grateful smile as you sank down onto the mattress, letting out a contented sigh. "Thank you, Seungcheol. I really appreciate it."

He returned your smile, trying to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at the sound of your voice. "Of course. Anything for you."

As he turned to leave the room, he couldn't help but linger for a moment, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form. In that moment, he realized just how much he cared about you—more than just a friend, more than just a crush. And as he quietly closed the door behind him, he made a silent promise to himself to always be there for you, no matter what.

As you settled into the comfortable bed Seungcheol had prepared for you, your mind started to buzz with thoughts of the events that had unfolded earlier. Despite your exhaustion, sleep eluded you as you thought about your sister's and Mingyu's betrayal. A notification from your phone interrupted your thoughts, a message from your sister asking where I was, seemingly worried as to what you were up to. Against you better judgment, you decided to ignore it for the moment as you let out a heavy sigh and turned your attention to Seungcheol.

He had been so kind and supportive throughout the evening, offering you a safe haven and a shoulder to lean on. His actions spoke volumes, and somehow you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more behind his gestures. The way he looked at you, the tenderness in his voice—it all hinted at a deeper connection between you. And as you drifted off into a restless sleep, you couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps Seungcheol's feelings for you ran deeper than mere friendship.

After ensuring that the spare bedroom was tidy and comfortable for you, Seungcheol made my way to the living room to clean up the mess from earlier. As he picked up discarded snack wrappers and empty mugs, his mind also ended up wandering to the events of the evening.

He couldn't shake the anger and frustration he felt towards Mingyu for hurting you, someone he cared deeply about. And yet, amidst the chaos, he couldn't deny the flutter of hope that sparked within him at the thought of being there for you, of being the one you turned to in her time of need.

As he finished cleaning up, he reached for his phone and sent a quick text to Mingyu, his fingers hesitating over the keys. Despite his anger towards him, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if this was his chance to finally confess his feelings to you. But as he stared at the blank screen, he couldn't bring myself to send the message. Instead, he pocketed his phone and made his way back to the spare bedroom, his heart heavy with uncertainty and longing.

As Seungcheol lay in bed, the weight of the evening's events heavy on his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than met the eye.

As he mulled over the possibilities, a nagging thought tugged at the corners of his mind. What if Mingyu wasn't entirely clueless about your feelings? What if, somehow, he had sensed your affection for him, even if you hadn't explicitly confessed it?

The idea seemed far-fetched at first, but the more Seungcheol thought about it, the more it made sense. Mingyu was perceptive, after all, and he had always been attentive to the people around him. Perhaps he had noticed the subtle glances, the lingering touches, the way your face lit up whenever you were near him.

But if Mingyu was aware of your feelings, why would he pursue a relationship with your sister? Was it out of genuine interest, or was there something more sinister at play? Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that there was a piece of the puzzle missing, something lurking beneath the surface that he couldn't quite grasp.

As he drifted off to sleep, his mind buzzing with unanswered questions, Seungcheol's thoughts inevitably turned to you. Despite the troubles of the evening, one thing remained clear: his feelings for you ran deep. With each passing moment, his love for you only seemed to grow stronger, anchoring him amidst the storm of uncertainty.

As he vowed to uncover the truth about Mingyu's intentions, Seungcheol's resolve was fueled not only by a sense of justice for you but also by a burning desire to protect you from further harm. For he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would do anything to ensure your happiness, even if it meant confronting his own heartache in the process.

With that thought in mind, Seungcheol closed his eyes, feeling a sense of determination wash over him. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them head-on, armed with nothing but his unwavering love for you. And as sleep finally claimed him, he couldn't help but cling to the hope that, somehow, everything would turn out alright in the end.

[dairyminki]

– first time clubbing with boyfriend!san

fic type: headcanon

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

description: just san taking you to the club for a night out after seeing you so stressed with studying

genre: fluff (?), mildly suggestive, established relationship

warning/s: use of alcohol, pet names (if i missed anything else pls lmk!)

wc: 1.1k

a/n: this is supery dupery self indulgent LMAO and as a giggly drunk myself, i'd like to have a choi san too pls!

* i would rlly appreciate it if you reblog and leave some feedbacks btw!

— !¡☆

UNI was stressing you out

all the studying had your head always drowning in books and you rarely leaving your room

your boyfriend, choi san, knew he had to do something

now, san had a lot of options in his head on how to help you take a break

bcos even if you kept insisting that you didn't need one

san KNEW that it was only a matter of time before you burst and break down

and so he surprises you while you're eating dinner with him one night,

"do you wanna do something fun tomorrow night?" "what? san, you know i can't afford to-"

"please?" he cuts you off, PLEADING

and who were you to say no to a pouting san?

you were ALWAYS a weak woman for him

"fine," you say, giving in. "what do you have in mind?"

"wanna go clubbing with me, baby?"

as soon as those words left his mouth, he sees it

sees the way your eyes sparkle with something akin to excitement and then you're blurting out,

"oh god, yes!"

the following night, san enters your bedroom after he was done getting ready

his hair was slicked back, he was dressed in a black button down shirt with the first two buttons unbuttoned

a silver necklace dangling on his neck, a sliver of his chest exposed

he's wearing black slacks and a belt with silvery chains hanging on it

since this will be your first night out, he wanted to look good for you

and boy was it a pleasant surprise when he enters your room and see you all dolled up from head to toe

"well, aren't you a sight to see?" san marvels while he watches you apply lipstick

you were oozing with such allure in a dress you're wearing for the first time that san thinks he's severely beguiled with you

and so it goes without saying that his eyes never left you even until you left the house

the only time san's gaze breaks away from you was when he was driving

arriving at the club, san immediately turns to you and asks,

"hey, i know, we're already here and all but i just wanna say that if you wanna back out and go home, we still can, just say the word and-"

san knew just how much your family coddled you while growing up

and you've only started to venture out of your comfort zone when you met him

so he understands how settings like this might overwhelm-

"are you kidding me?" you gave him an incredulous look, cutting off his rambling

"i wanna get hammered!" you shout against the blaring club music

and then you were the one pulling him further inside past the sweaty bodies and the heavy smell of alcohol and the blinding neon lights

"unfortunately i wont be getting my usual today, so i'll just have a soda ," san says since he'll be driving. "but, hmm, maybe a tequila sunrise for this pretty lady right here" he tells the bartender and winks at you

you roll your eyes, your gaze shifting to the dancefloor

"can i dance…later?" you ask san

san barks out a laugh and pinches your cheek

"i won't be stopping you tonight, baby, so go ahead. tonight will be all about you," he whispers these in your ear, goosebumps trailing your skin

you haven't drunk anything yet, but you already felt hot just like that

when your drinks do came, you surprise san at how you basically drunk it in one draft

"baby, hey, hey, we got all night!" he chuckles trying to get you to slow you down

soon, one tequila sunrise became five, and you were already red from the drinks and laughter

you were a giggly drunk how cute

"i think," you slur, pointing at san and then abruptly standing that you slightly wobble due to dizziness. "i think i'm ready to hit the dancefloor"

san grabs a hold of your arm, asking if do you want him to escort you to the center but you brushed him off

you were still giggling when you walked away

while you were dancing the night away, san just keeps staring at you

watching every move you make, every smile popping out to grace your lips, and every glance you sent his way

you were mouthing for him to come join you but he shook his head

san wanted you to have your fun for now

he wanted you to let loose so badly that you'll be screaming at his face tomorrow morning for letting you drink that much

but then, deeper into the night, he starts noticing that more eyes were on you now and that your intoxicated self remained oblivious to it

san downs the remaining liquid in his canned drink, licks his lips, and leaves the bar, deciding it was finally time to join you

unaware, your dancing was starting to become bolder as you become hotter with all the alcohol coursing through your system and all the body heat emitted by everyone surrounding you 

and then you feel hands on your waist

a familiar scent filling your senses and you immediately knew it was san who was behind you

you let your body become slack against his while he rocks your bodies from side to side, his hands pulling you even closer and face leaning in

you bring your hand up, caressing his face while he speaks to you in a low tone

"are you having fun, baby?" his lips brush against the shell of your ear making you shiver

you reply with a mere hum, giggling as his hot breath tickles your face

"i take it you loved my suggestion then?" "mhmm, i loveddd it san, i love youu" you mumble, smiling with your eyes closed

san chuckles at your drunk self, he doesn't really think you'll end up remembering MOST of this tomorrow

but at least you had fun

and so was he, san thinks as he smirks

later on not so subtly meeting the gaze of this one person he caught looking at you since earlier

by the time he was about to drive the both of you back home

san steps out of the car, heavily exhaling, after laying you down in the passenger seat

he needed a breather especially that he didn't expect the scenario of you grinding on him earlier at the dancefloor

san left the house with with you, hand in hand, and two of his buttons unbuttoned

and now, he comes home with you passed out in his arms and his button down shirt open 

— !¡☆

[ridl]

I really dislike the idea that just bc Ganyu is old she has experience with everything, like that's not how it works lol. And this includes serious romance, esp when she didn't even feel like she belongs in human society until recently + not everyone is desperate to date.

The way i see it she's been struggling with her identity and finding a sense of belonging among humans, as well as dealing with going against her peaceful nature during war, while also being someone who appreciates just being alive, and simple things in live unrelated to social stuff, and nature and Liyue as a whole. She has a lot of things to deal with mentally bc of her half-qilin identity, devotion to Rex Lapis and Liyue, and everything she's been through. I think she doesn't exactly need romance. And she has that mysterious qilin side to her, which we don't truly know or understand. It's perfectly fine for her to be a character that was never all that interested in romance, and doesn't have direct experience with it.

And there's really never enough time to experience and learn everything, it doesn't matter how old she is. I find making her this perfect, hypercompetent and experienced at absolutely everything flawless being to be very limiting. Why deny her the space to still learn and grow? I believe we learn all our lives, and it's the same for Ganyu. I mean, literally just look at her being completely perplexed by Keqing and Rex Lapis' fondness of her lmao. And the entire fact of their eventual reconciliation.

Ganyu somehow just couldn't ignore Keqing's existence, even if it was absolutely an option for a 3000+ yo half-qilin. Perhaps because Keqing was kind and truly did care about Liyue and its ppl, making Ganyu have very mixed feelings. She left a strong, hard to ignore impression. And so Ganyu eventually learned more about this human enigma called Keqing lol, and grew as a person.

And generally that's also how i see ganqing's relationship, neither of them rlly need romance, they're not desperate for it. Keqing has her own passions and dreams, she has her life figured out. Ganyu doesn't have her life as figured out so there's a lot to consider here. But they simply decide a romantic relationship witch each other is what they WANT!! Bc it does enrich their lives. They chose to do this, even if they never actually had to.

Long story short, yes Ganyu is amazing, talented and carries Liyue on her back, but she's also only human, and only qilin. Her being so old doesn't automatically mean she must have romantic experience. And she's still learning, growing and experiencing new things.

[prettyboykatsuki]

Hey Pookie, I lowkey love your content and shi but I’m kinda confused about like the minor stuff (Characters being under 18 then aged up in fics) I’m confused because people would be like “your aging up characters to sexualize them” but I don’t think that’s your case yk so I’m wondering do you believe in the “it’s illegal to sexualize underage anime characters” or nah?

No offence 🫠

i do not believed in that lmao /nm

it wouldn't matter if i was doing it just to sexualize them tbh bc you're still intending to write them as adults. ive never understood that 'just to sexualize them' bc like... would u prefer they didn't do that? lmao

characters are not people so its not illegal and it does not matter👍🏾. characters are objects and tools of make believe so u can do anything u want with them. they're paper dolls and building blocks and they have zero agency bc they do not exist. no actual minor is harmed or helped by that rhetoric

especially in the context of like written fiction. like they're not actual minors they're play pretend pixels and words on screen etc . anime characters should not be treated as psuedo ppl they are literally dolls. i hope this helps !! u seem genuine in asking so i did my best to answer but i feel like ive answered this so many times its hard to rlly explain it anymore

[hiskillingjar]

hiihi just wanted to make a request for maybe like headcanons or drabbles or rlly whatevr medium you prefer abt lawrence strade or ren w/ dollification. i just think that some of the boys r wayyy better at taking care of their dolls than others LOL. strade would probably just use it as an excuse to totally manhandle n beat up an MC more but... i think ren would take care of a "doll" better imo

hrghhhhh i hate you people, you can't keep using this kink against me

since i already wrote a headcanon post very similar to this, i thought i'd just. write some drabbles because i'm insane and i hate working on actual writing lmao

cw for some gory descriptions in law's and strade's parts. as expected. also i posted this on ao3 because why not :P

🥀

"Law…Law~"

Your voice was as quiet as the coo of a dove from where you were sitting, settled down at Lawrence's feet while they attended to potting a new plant, the haze of marijuana smoke streaming from their lips like a slumbering dragon as the humidifier steamed up the wide windows of the apartment, as if they were trying to conceal you (what you had become, what they made you) from the rest of the world, keep you to themselves.

Your brain was as hazy as theirs with similarly strong drugs, administered through poisoned tea in a floral teacup, which left you doped up and thoughtless, vulnerable to any cruel intentions that they had with you.

Not like you cared about their intentions anymore though. You didn't have the brain to.

"Shhh…"

Lawrence didn't look directly at you, but they still smiled as they shushed you, the corners of their pretty mouth curling up into a serene smile, as peaceful and detached as an angel, a benevolent Goddess looking at a lamb left behind for the slaughter by a sadistic master.

Adequately silenced, you let out a sleepy moan in place of any more words, pressing your heavy head against their leg (you barely reached their knee now) and nuzzling it the best you could, what little remained of your brain seeking comfort from them, no matter what the cost might have been (and it could be steep, when Lawrence was the one administering the toll).

Tonight, though, they seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps it was the stream of smoke from their lips or the still burning joint in the ashtray at the side, but whatever the cause, they couldn't help but laugh quietly as you kept nuzzling up against their leg.

"Oh, there you are." They said kindly. "That's my good doll. My special, little doll…"

They continued to work on their plants, though they were kind enough to reward you with a few head scritches, to let you know they were paying attention to you, and appreciating your sweet, docile form at their feet.

You instinctively raised your head to press against their palm, letting them stroke through your hair even more, chasing after each touch with trilled moans and high whimpering whines.

Lawrence had to smile again, finally looking down on you (their smile never touching their eyes, the stiff grin of a corpse, a girl in the water, a bride in a freezer) as you rose on your injured knees to lean into their hand, admiring the way your hair (a little greasy and matted, they hadn't been taking care of you too well as of late) fell around your bruised face, and the pinpricks of blood that were dotted on your lips made you look made up and pretty, like a figure or a toy.

This was the way you were meant to be, and you knew that. You were meant to be a sweet little thing for them to care for, a doll who'd had their joint popped out by a child who played too roughly with their toys, so docile and so trusting that you would obey whatever order came from them.

Or, at the very least, not put up too much of a fight against it.

"Law…" You whined softly, trying to sit forward on your knees, the infected cuts (you probably had sepsis of some kind, the hack job through your limbs had been done so sloppily, though not like you had the mind to be worried about that of all things) bound with blood-dotted bandages, pain cutting through the haze of pleasurable cotton padding in your head. "Mm, please…"

Lawrence looked at you curiously as you asked for something, the gentle strokes of their fingers pausing.

"Do you want something, love?"

"Mmm…"

They glanced at you, those beautiful, dead eyes dull with a familiar calmness and serenity that deadened their senses and made them all the more irresistible.

In your drugged state, it was easy to fall into a contented and submissive silence despite the searing pain that haunted you whenever you were sober enough to feel it, content to just be in Lawrence's presence and enjoy your life, or rather the remnants of it, as their doll.

You hummed again as they continued to stroke your hair, letting yourself settle at their feet, subdued into quiet submission at their touch.

"Can I have some more tea?" You finally asked after a few moments of quiet, distracted by a sudden searing sensation in what used to be your right leg. "Please…"

Lawrence chuckled softly at your question, shaking their head slightly without even looking at you.

"Oh…doll, I don't think that'd be a good idea…"

There was a subtle edge to their voice now, a lowness and authority that you weren't completely used to, as if they were trying to make a point.

"Remember the last time you had a second serving? Your mouth went numb and you couldn't keep your thoughts in line. I could barely understand you all night, had to shut you up just to stop you from babbling and babbling…" They looked at you again, with a quirk of their head, barely a light in those dead eyes. "Remember that, dolly? Or did you forget?"

"Mm…please?" You pouted all the same as you continued to plead, your blood-pricked lips trembling, watching as they sighed and set their tools down, stooping down to your level and scraping back a lock of blonde hair behind their ear with dirty hands. "It's hurting again, Law…hurting awful."

"Shh…it's okay, little doll…"

Lawrence kept the tone of their voice as gentle as they could, trying to soothe you as they reached forward to stroke over each stump of what used to be your limbs. Your wounds were still bad, made worse by the dirt constantly clinging to their fingers when they attended to them as best they could, but you were, at least, always too drugged to feel the severity of the pain, too drugged from the chemicals in their brew and too drugged from the sleepy calmness in their voice, to notice how bad they'd gotten in the weeks since they'd first done it.

"Okay, petal…okay." They nodded, their long (lovely) fingers stilling. "I'll give you some more tea, but you better not take too much this time, you hear me?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded with a grateful smile, following behind them on all fours, like an innocent, little lamb (being led to the slaughter) as they stood back to their feet and paced to the small kitchen connected to the rest of the apartment. "Thank you, thank you~"

"Of course, darling…of course."

They kept their back to you as they went ahead to the kitchen for your next serving of drugs, clicking the kettle on and spooning teaspoons of herbs into your special teacup.

"I have to do everything I can to keep my doll quiet and sweet on me…isn't that right?"

🦊

"Okay, baby, what does this say?"

Ren asked the question sweetly, the tone of his voice similar to that of a kind teacher speaking to a particularly challenging student as he held the book to your eyes, his golden gaze encouraging and warm.

You screwed up your expression thoughtfully, your bound hands curling into fists in the fluffy tulle of your skirt as you focused intently on the book, trying to put the letters together and make the word he was teaching you in your muddled-up brain.

Ren didn't mind that you were muddled up now, though, especially since he had gone through such an effort to do it in the first place. 

In fact, he liked the opportunity to teach you new things, teach you not to resist him when he forced you into girly, fetish outfits, and teach you to be exactly the type of pet he wanted.

One who was just as eager about his teaching as he was. 

"Fuh…uh," You sounded out, crossing your socked feet (white and frilly around the ankles) under you as he nodded eagerly at your words. "Ex. Fu-uh-ex."

"Yes, yes, you're almost there!" He said with a bright grin, his fangs shiny and wet as he nodded again. "Fuh, that's an F." He pointed at each bold letter with a claw, sounding it out just as you did so you'd have a better understanding of him. "Uh, that's an O. And ex, that's an X." He looked to you again before pointing at the cartoonish illustration at the top of the page. "And what's this? What does that spell out?"

"That's Ren!" You said excitedly, grinning at the cartoon fox on the thick boarded book before looking back to him, waiting for praise.

"Good doll!" He said with a yipping giggle, covering his mouth with his jacket sleeve to stop it from growing louder. "Heh, that's very good, but not quite. What does it spell, dolly? Use your brain to work it out."

You didn’t need to remind him that you didn’t have much of a brain left.

"Mmmm…" You looked thoughtful again, following each time his claw moved with your bright, and yet utterly empty eyes again. "Fuh…uh…ex. Oh, it's fox!" You smiled victoriously, looking into his eyes. "Fox, it's a fox, just like Ren!"

"Wow, good job!" He praised encouragingly (condescendingly), setting down the book and clapping his hands. "So smart, dolly, you did so, so well!~"

You beamed proudly as he leaned forward, a familiar sticker sheet of golden star stickers in hand, and peeled two off to lay flat on each of your cheeks, a reward for being so smart. Your skin was powdery and matte with concealer and blush to hide your bruises, so the stickers almost instantly tried to peel away, but neither of you minded.

It was the thought that counted, after all.

"You're doing such a good job with your reading today, dolly, I think we should give you an even bigger reward." Ren sat back on his knees with a familiar grin on his face. "What do you think?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded obediently, your empty eyes lighting up as he slid off the bed (your bed, not his, but he slept in it with you so often that it might have well have been) and fetched your favourite wand from the bedside table drawer, full of similarly well-used toys in varying colours and sizes.

Ren chuckled at your eager expression and slid the wheel of the wand up, watching intently as it buzzed to life in his hands before his eyes went back to yours and narrowed, a new air of quiet authority taking over his expression.

"Raise your skirts, doll." He ordered, and you did so almost instantly.

The jangling chain of your wrist cuffs (loose and comfortable, almost exclusively there for show)  was light and delicate as you pulled the cotton skirt of your dress and scratchy tulle petticoat up your soft thighs to reveal your panties, already slightly damp, desire soaking into the cheesy pink and heart-adorned graphic, reading 'Princess'.

"Good girl," He praised, his voice a soft purr, lowering the rumbling head of the vibrator to the front of your panties (just over the graphic) and watching with a salacious smile as you instantly started to moan and whine at the sensation. "Good doll. Happy to see your best friend, huh?”

“Mmm…” You groaned with a little nod, doing your best to rock your hips forward and chase after the pleasurable vibrations, biting your pink and pouty lips as your eyelids fluttered from the sharp shocks from the wand. “Yeah, yeah…so happy.” 

“Mm, it seems like kind of a waste of time to be teaching you, though,” Ren started, sitting up on his knees to cup your chin with his free hand, sliding the vibrator into your panties and positioning it against your already erect clit, eyes sparkling at your instant desperate and high pitched moan. “You know, when I can make you all cute and stupid again just by using this thing, right?”

“Nnhhh…hah…” You groaned, burying your fists into your skirts, your expression screwing up again as he sloooowly turned the speed and intensity of the vibrator up a few more notches, the sensations sharp and quasi-painful…or at least they would be painful, had you not been trained to receive pain as mind melting pleasure. “OHHH! Ah, ah, mm!”

“Ah, there it is.” Ren said airily, giggling as he looked deeply into your fluttering eyes, his own shining with malice. “All those thoughts leaking out of you. My, my, dolly, whatever am I going to do with you if you stay this fucking stupid, huh?~”

“Rennnn…” You whined, trying to shy away from the wand as he slid it up another notch, each jolt of brutal pleasure enough to make your mind wipe and your vision go spotty. “Nghhh, god…”

“I suppose I’m just going to have to take care of you forever, aren’t I?” Ren continued, answering his own question as he leaned closer, rubbing the bridge of his nose against your jaw, scenting you, the soft whisps of his hair tickling your made-up cheek. “I’m going to have to dress you, and feed you, and teach you everything you’ve forgotten, hm?”

“Yesss,” You whined with a deliriously happy smile, pressing closer to him, bound hands reaching up to grab the front of his jacket and pull him in close. “Yes, yes, please take care of me, please…”

“Oh, dolly,” He moaned softly, suddenly straddling your soft thigh and pressing his own groin down against it, giving away instantly that he was rock hard. “Oh, sweet thing, of course, I’ll take care of you…it would be my pleasure to.”

You let out a trembling little giggle, girlish and sweet, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, rutting up against the vibrator as he rutted down against your thigh, breathing heavily as he listened to each of your own ragged breaths. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He mumbled, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek as his free hand drifted away from your face and groped at your chest through the bodice of the lolita-style dress he had wrangled you into that morning. “You’re going to feel so good that you’re never going to want to leave, even if I ever let you have your old brain back…”

“And don’t count on me doing that any time soon, dolly. You’re too fun like this~”

🔨

"Gooood morning, fraulein!~"

Strade's voice was a sickeningly enthusiastic drawl as he switched on the lights, his steps heavy on the wooden stairs, each one groaning beneath his weight as he sank into the depths of the basement, like a demon sinking back into the warming flames of Hell, tired out after pretending to be a human for a little too long.

Not like you were all that clued into his demonic intentions. You were that out of it, your brain slurred and muddled into dumbed-down subservience from his pain and torture. 

Maybe there was a mercy to that, a mercy to ignorance so that you would not go (more) insane due to his abuse, his characteristic recklessness from treating his ‘toys’ a little too roughly.

Were demons known for their merciful nature? You didn't remember.

You didn't remember anything.

"Good morning," You slurred through a mouthful of dry, coppery blood, attempting a bright smile as he pushed a hand into your hair and forced your eyes up towards his so that he could inspect you, and get a good look at you in the morning light.

Well, the basement light, anyway. You hadn’t seen morning in days at this point. 

"Ah, just look at you." He commented in a voice purring with approval, running a thick finger over your black eye and down the growing bruise on your cheek, dark purple and blue painting your skin like a painting of brutality and pain. "Pretty as a picture, as always. I missed you last night, you know!"

"You did?" You tilted your head dopily and smiled a little bigger, flashing a broken molar at the back of your grin, a reminder of his brutal love (or, more appropriately, lust the previous night. "That's so nice of you to say. I missed you too."

"Mm, it is nice of me, isn't it?" He repeated with a good-natured chuckle, shaking his head fondly. "I'm in a nice kind of mood today." He continued, idly scratching at your scalp with his grimy fingernails, petting you like an animal at his feet. You were all too eager to keen up to his touch as he pleased, be the animal that he wanted. "So nice, I might not beat up that pretty face all too much today. You took an awful lot yesterday, after all." He let go of your hair to tap your broken nose, smiling a little broader at your moan of pain. “Isn’t that right, doll? I think you managed to bruise my knuckles back, actually!”

"Mmmm…" You hummed a low affirmative moan, shivering as the tip of his boot grazed over your purpling knees, marred with bloody cuts and grazes left over from days and nights crawling back and forth the rough cement ground. "That would be lovely..."

"Lovely, eh? Hah, don't think you're going to get off easily though, dummkopf," He let out another laugh, not a smooth chuckle, though, more like the barking cackle of a hyena, his thick brows furrowing in dark amusement as he spoke a language you couldn't understand (though you barely understood him when he spoke English, at times). "I still need to make use of you somehow, ja? So you don't prove too useless to keep around..."

Before you even had the chance to consider the threat behind his words, he reached down with his free hand to unzip his trousers and urged your head forward with another firm grip on your hair. As your bruised cheek pressed against his soft thigh, you couldn’t help but purr in pleasure, just feeling his all-encompassing warmth against you, stifling and boiling hot just like a creature from Hell should be.

"No, no, I have a better idea of what to do with you," He continued, his voice low as you rubbed your cheek against his thigh. "What do you think, doll?" He drawled, a foreign and unfamiliar name (even to him) thick on his poisonous tongue. "Want me to sink my dick down your throat and scramble your brain up even more?"

“Mm,” You moaned in approval, opening your mouth obediently as he tucked his boxers down around his thick cock and pressed into your open, bloody mouth, taking in a low hiss through his teeth at the feeling of your wet tongue, in spite of everything. 

Barely moments into your task, as you bobbed your head up and down, your sore jaw manuvered like a puppet on his cock, you found your legs spreading obediently (unconciously, automatically, like it had been trained into you) as he slid the tip of his boot to your cunt (the only place not battered or bruised just yet) and slowly rubbed at it, up and down, growling his approval when your slit left behind a despicably thick smear of pre-cum on the dark leather.

“God,” He mumbled hotly with a rasped chuckle, tipping his head back, his eyes on the single lightbulb hanging from the basement ceiling. “You’re fucking depraved, doll. I’d feel bad for treating you so rough, you know, if I didn’t know you got off on it. Quite the nasty, little toy you are, huh?”

Your eyes fluttered uselessly, like the glass eyes of a baby doll, as he forced your mouth to take his entire length, the lack of oxygen enough to make them roll back into your empty skull as tears ran down your cheeks, glossing the canvas of bruises that he had left behind.

“Mm, nah, actually, I wouldn’t feel bad about it at all.” He mumbled, before looking down at you again, untangling his fingers from your hair and planting a firm smack on your bruised cheek. “You’re just too pretty when I beat you up a little. I can’t resist!”

You yelped when he slapped you again, trying to pull back from the aphyxiating warmth of his cock, but that only encouraged him to force himself deeper, burying your broken nose into the dark hairs at the base and matting them together with your blood. 

“Plus, it makes you fight back a little. I like that.” He said again with a heavy sigh, his golden eyes narrowing hungrily. “It’s like there’s a little part of you still trying to resist me, but aw,” He clicked his tongue, giving your cheek another (albeit slightly lighter) slap. “You’re too stupid to let that side of you win now, aren’t you, fraulein?”

“Mmmph,” You groaned, doing your best to nod and squeezing your eyes shut, a new stream of tears running down your cheeks, smearing blood, painting bruises.

“You can’t fight me,” He then said, going back to a pattern of brutal thrusts, bruising your throat and forcing obscene ‘GHK-GHK!’ noises from your throat, all the while rubbing his boot against your cunt. “And you don’t want to. You get off on being treated like a fuck toy too much to fight, don’t you?”

“Mmm~” You moaned, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes as you reached down with bruised and broken fingers, wrists marred with rope burn and the imprints of chains and shakles, to touch yourself.

“Scheußlich,” He chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. “Nasty, nasty little girl…mmph, you should be careful, you know?” He bit his lip with a sudden dark look in his eyes, puppeteering your mouth up and down his cock a little faster, a little more erratically, his full hips slamming against your cheeks, your chin. 

“I might just fall in love with you, if you keep behaving like this~”

[petrichor-idyllic]

heyy, hope ur doing well <33

so i have a request for thomas tmr x glader fem!reader, where they both came up together in the box and like the entire time theyre in the glade theyre js inseparable. so when thomas goes into the maze to save minho n alby, reader gets rlly worried and as soon as minho and thomas come back reader feels so relieved and gets emotional and thomas says something like 'dont worry, im never leaving you'. and one of them confesses to the other at the end <333

Oooo finally! I get to write for Tommy boy- that man does not get enough recognition in his own series lmao. He's the main character for a reason.

WAITING GAME

MASTERLIST | THOMAS MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Movie based fic.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, sappy stuff, that's really it.

Thomas was the first person you ever met. Well, the first person you can remember meeting.

In the Box, screeching metal surrounding you with a (admittedly handsome) teenage boy freaking out, trying to wake you up. For some reason, you were a lot calmer than Thomas was. He was bouncing off of the walls and you were just sat on the floor trying to process what was going on.

Then the ceiling opened and Thomas became a human shield.

The Gladers that you would come to know, treated you like an object and a piece of meat, bar a few exceptions. They'd never seen a girl before, but Thomas was there to protect you and make sure they didn't dare lay a hand on you.

Not that it mattered because the second you were both out of the Box, the boy grabbed your wrist and made a sprint for it.

It had somehow silently been decided that you were going to stick with each other. Which included tripping over him when he fumbled over himself and face-planted, as Newt would say.

Though, after the initial shock, you both started to relax more. Joined at the hip, wherever one of you went, the other wouldn't be too far behind.

You learnt about each other at the same rate you learnt about yourselves.

Thomas is reckless- he acts before he thinks and isn't scared of getting in a fight. He also asks a lot of questions and is more than willing to tell everyone his opinion.

You, however, are calmer. You think things through and explore more options. You prefer to let Thomas do the talking and get himself in trouble whilst you're there to try and solve whatever problem he's caused.

And you learnt this is a very small space of time.

Apart from Thomas, you get along with Newt, probably because he is one of the most respectful, and Alby, because he's more than willing to kill anyone that hurts you. Oh, and Chuck- Thomas thinks he's kind of annoying, but you already adore the small boy.

So, when Thomas gets attacked by Ben and Alby and Minho have to go into the Maze after his Banishment, you have a bad feeling about it.

You join Thomas and Newt at the giant Glade Doors, staring down the incredibly long and daunting corridor that almost feels twisting and nauseating. How Minho spends every day out there is beyond you- not that you've ever actually spoken to the guy.

Chuck stands next to you, anxiously looking between Thomas and a very stoic looking Newt. You put your hand on his shoulder.

"They're gonna be fine, Chuck," you smile at him. "Promise."

Glancing at Thomas, you brush your hand against his, making him look at you before he accepts the gesture. Intertwining his fingers with yours, you attempt to playfully nudge him.

Thomas has already become very passionate and caring about everyone here. And with his determination to be a Runner, you can tell he holds Minho very highly despite neither of you having anything to do with him.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" He scoffs, taking a second to let your reassuring presence calm him.

He hesitates. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't developed a crush on you. Well, a lot of people have developed a crush on you because you're the only girl, but you and Thomas have some kind of connection. It's obvious the creators see it too, since you came up with him.

And the feeling is mutual.

"If Minho and Alby don't come back, what are our chances of actually getting out of here?" Thomas says. You understand what he means. Minho knows the Maze better than anyone, and Alby has survived all this time.

"They're gonna make it." Newt repeats himself for what must be the fifth time.

"Newt, they-"

"He's right," you cut Thomas off. "They're gonna make it."

Over time, a crowd begins to form, and Thomas is starting to squeeze your hand a lot harder, shifting on his feet and fiddling with anything he can find. The boy is stressed. At some point, Chuck decided to hold your other hand, so now your holding the hands of two very anxious teenage boys, acting like their mother.

The Doors closing time is drawing dangerous near, and you're starting to get stressed yourself. You stare at the ground, only for your breath to catch in your throat when you look back up.

"There!" You shout, a blur of motion catching your attention as Minho struggles to carry your unconscious leader.

Almost as soon as they emerge, the Doors start to move.

"They're not gonna make it," Newt mumbles. You and Chuck exchange glances, seemingly having the same idea. Letting go of both boys, you cup your hands around your mouth.

"Minho! Come on!" You shout. "You can do it!"

"Come on, Minho!" Chuck joins in, and soon the entire Glade is cheering on the Keeper to return. Some people even telling him to leave Alby, and it doesn't take a genius to tell that Minho isn't going to do that.

"I'm sorry," Thomas grabs your wrist, making you look at him.

"What?"

Without warning, Thomas bolts forward into the Maze. Newt tries to grab him but misses as he squeezes through the Doors, which close with a thud as he just about makes it to the other side.

The crowd stands there in a stunned silence.

You, Newt and Chuck all remain where you stand, almost like if you move, what just happened will become real.

You look at Newt, who stands with his fists balled. Your hand comes to the Doors, your face crunshing as you touch the stone, almost like you're willing it to open.

Newt takes a deep breath. "Everyone bed, now." He commands.

"But, Newt-" Zart starts.

"Now." He sighs. "We can't do anything about this now- and Alby's left me in charge. Bed. Go!"

The crowd disperses, slowly, until it's just you and Chuck left, with Newt standing just behind you.

Your forehead bumps against the stone as a sob shakes your body. The situation has finally set in and you can't stop the tears.

"Hey," Newt puts his hand on your shoulder, "if anyone can survive out there; it's Minho." You raise your head, looking at him and pushing your lips into a thin line. "Get some rest." He gives you a friendly boyish tap and turns to leave.

You look at Chuck, who is sitting on the floor now.

Thomas was the first person you ever met and the only person here you actually trust, so the weird feeling of loneliness and presumptuous guilt hits more than you expected.

You also sit down, taking your place next to Chuck and ignoring Newt's orders.

"They might make it," Chuck says. "Minho knows the Maze more than anyone- if Thomas is with him, he might be okay."

You sit there for what feels like forever, but you have no intention of leaving. Neither does Chuck.

Newt comes over several times in an attempt to get either of you to move, which falls completely flat and he eventually gives up. Though, he does bring you both blankets.

Chuck falls asleep after a while, and you let him use your leg as a pillow. But you stay awake.

You've known Thomas for only a few days but it feels like your whole entire life. You, for some reason, even liked Thomas when he was just a random boy you were trapped in a box with that didn't even know his name.

And now he was gone.

You were drifting in and out of consciousness when Chuck jumps up. That and the loud sounds of the Doors opening startles you back to reality. Sitting in the same position all night definitely wasn't good for your back but you have different priorities.

Scrambling to your feet, Chuck gets the other Gladers' attention and a small crowd forms, Newt leading the group.

It's like your surroundings become static and nothing feels real as the corridor remains empty.

People start to move away, with Newt putting his hand on the small of your back in an attempt to comfort you, making you look at him.

"No way," Zart mumbles, making your attention snap back to the Maze. Rounding the corner is Thomas and Minho, both exhausted and struggling to drag Alby back to the Maze.

You freeze, relief and shock overwhelming you as you stare at them. Cheers break out as they reach the Glade, dropping to their knees and panting.

"Did you see a Griever?" Chuck asks- because of course he does.

"Yeah," Thomas pants, "I saw one."

"He didn't just see it; he killed it." Minho adds, causing a new air of unease to spread across the crowd.

"Alright," Newt clears his throat, "get to the Med hut- all of you. We gotta make sure you're not shuckin' dyin' or some klunk."

Clint and Jeff help grab Alby. Minho and Thomas pick themselves up.

Thomas pauses, looking at you.

"You're a fucking idiot," you say, watching as Thomas nervously swallows, opening his mouth but he doesn't get chance to speak.

"Oi, Greenie," Minho calls after him, "let's go!"

You jolt your head in the direction of the Keeper, silently telling Thomas to go.

"Are you happy to see him or do you wanna se him?" Chuck asks, clearly more chipper than you.

"Both?"

He laughs.

You leave them to it as Thomas and Minho get patched up. But it's a weird feeling. You replayed it in your head- you expected to dive into his arms, confess your feelings or some shit.

But you just stood there.

Unmoving. And unsure what to do.

You watch Thomas leave the hut, talking briefly to Newt before making a beline for you as you sit at the edge of the Deadheads.

You look up at him from your seat in front of an old tree, pushing your lips into a thin line.

"Hi." He says.

"Hey." You respond.

"Newt wants us to have some Gathering in Council Hall." He awkwardly rocks on his heels. "He wants us all there. The Glade' goin' crazy."

"Why would you do that?"

"What?"

"Run into the Maze?"

"I had to help," he sighs, "I couldn't just leave them-"

"You could've died!" You snap, making Thomas jump. Your voice breaks slightly, the emotions of last night coming back up. "I would've lost you." The last part comes out as more of a whisper.

Thomas sighs, moving and crouching so he can sit next to you.

"Don't worry," he looks at you, slipping his fingers into yours as your arms fall falt at your sides. "I'm never leaving you."

You look at him out of the corner of your eye. Overwhelmed by feelings and unsure what else to do, you lean in.

Kissing him in the cheek, Thomas' body immediately tenses and his skin quickly becomes warm and red. You pull back, struggling to repress the smirk of your flustered friend.

"You know," he mumbles, facing you properly, "Minho ran off and left me, and all I could do was think about getting back to you. I was going to get back to you- whatever it took."

Your heart beat picks up as he glances at your lips for a second. "I like you, (Y/N). I feel... connected to you. I don't get it and I don't remember why, but you're all I think about even though I spend all my time with you. And I guess nearly dying has made me say it."

You smiles, and the images somehow makes him more flustered. "I- uh, I want- I mean-"

"Shut up, Thomas," you lean in, brushing you nose against his and giving him a hint, which he takes.

Your body feels on fire when he kisses you, and the relief that he's still here hits you all over again. He's safe here, and he's not going anywhere.

"Oi!" Newt's voice scares the shit out of you both. "I told you shanks we have a Gathering! Quit makin' out and get your sorry butts to Council Hall!"

You sit there, both of you blinking at Newt, who clearly isn't properly equipped to deal with this because he leaves pretty quick.

Thomas chuckles, standing up and offering you a hand. You smile, taking it and allowing him to help you up.

He isn't going anywhere, and he's yours.

Woooooo Thomas request- Done! I absolutely adore Minho, but it is nice to write for other characters sometimes.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[fiddlepot]

miner dee en eye (kinda nsfw) go do your homework losers /neu same thing for ageless blogs. Cease.

Me when brain suddenly "kokudoma"

Like. It's honestly such a crackship but they're fuck buddies only bc kokushibo is an edgy ass bitch

But doma is like actually fond of him and won't leave him tf alone so koku goes "fuck it" and edges him with like small doses of attention only to fuck him senseless later, and y'all know they can both go for literally forever bc stamina is not an issue for demons at all

Anywhoooo 🤣

Drabble under the cut. Once again, nsfw = get the FUCK out if you're a minor plz thx ❤🌹🙏

Tags; nsfw (duh doy) kokudou, doma being a bottom bitch, degredation, little to no aftercare tbh koku don't got time for that, impact play, blood play, biting, belt bondage, humiliation, one sided affection, koku being sassy, demons being freaks lmao!

oh yeah, and before I forget to mention uh. my bad if there are like, issues in the writing. I don't rlly write smut like that so it may be like, finnicky or whatever.

His Affection

As the second-in-command, the moments bestowed upon Upper Moon 1 were of the utmost significance—a privilege beyond measure to partake in even the slightest morsel of his precious time, perhaps more so than the demon king himself.

And it seemed Muzan thought so too.

Doma's relationship with the highest Kizuki was, put simply, a distraction for them both. His lordship already didn't like him—and it was evident that the progenitor fancied the prospect of hearing his cries of pleasure bounce about the sprawling walls of the Infinity Castle even less. Or having the ability to see him unfurl anywhere, for that matter.

Yet he tolerated it all, much as he tolerated the myriad eccentricities that defined Doma's existence—solely because Kokushibo didn't bear any particular fondness of the man. If there was any semblance of favor beneath his veneer, it was a masterful deception, concealed with an artistry that left no room for doubt.

“How exceedingly unbecoming of you... Upper Moon Two,” Kokushibo taunted, his tone laced with derision as he continued to torment Doma. A single thrust of his knee into Doma's perineum reduced him to a huffing, mewling, wanton mess that could do nothing but writhe beneath the relentless assault. “Pathetic.”

“For you, I...” Doma began to croon in response, but his sentiment was summarily disregarded by his superior.

Indeed, the kanji branded into Doma's very being served as a constant reminder of the wrongness that tainted their actions. Yet he grappled with the notion of whether it truly constituted wrongdoing, when he was held captive by someone of superior strength. It could have been worse, but the act itself, while undeniably indulgent, left him yearning for more.

Three pairs of amber eyes encased in bloodshot sclerae bore down upon Doma's kaleidoscope orbs, middle eyelids lifting with a sadistic mirth as the latter struggled to gather his bearings. Yes, if nothing else, he was a rather fine instrument—a myriad outlet of wanton and eager reactions to every strum, stroke, and tug of Kokushibo's own.

Another forceful thrust, and Doma's fists, ensnared by the constricting uwa-obi, trembled with impatience. His hitherto unrewarding quest for gratification danced in macabre synchrony with Kokushibo's unyielding onslaught of ruthless stringency. Stringency he trusted Doma could handle, just as he had many times before.

Indeed, he bore an unparalleled capacity to endure the most precarious of circumstances. Stripped bare and vulnerable, entangled within Kokushibo's grip that paradoxically bore both pain and pleasure to his bruised wrists, all within the sanctum of his private chambers where the prying eyes of servants loomed over him as a threat to his image—his affection for the elder demon had endowed him with a remarkable adaptability. That which Kokushibo quite appreciated, even while he didn't do so typically.

“Please,” Doma keened, not entirely sure of what he was begging for. His legs flailed above Kokushibo's hips, the capriciousness of his knee now replaced with a rhythmic cadence. In response, Doma's own hips danced to accommodate, all under Kokushibo's unwavering gaze.

“Please?” The elder demon withdrew his knee just as he noticed Doma's thrusts growing more frantic, bringing about a plaintive whine of protest. One that he ignored. “Please what?”

Cruel, Doma surmised, his furrowed brows betraying a sensation akin to frustration—though it was more related to a profound sense of bereftness. The feeling soon gave way to astonishment though, as his superior's calloused, unfettered hand ventured toward his most intimate regions. In a tantalizing journey that brushed past a multitude of erogenous zones, Kokushibo commenced a painstakingly leisurely rhythm of strokes upon the taut, erect shaft. “Lord Kokushibo,” Doma moaned, the words escaping his lips in yet another impassioned plea. He couldn't bite back his grin at the pleasure as the ministrations increasingly focused on his tip.

“Hmm?” He pressed.

“I...”

“Out with it, now.” With a low, knowing hum, Kokushibo continued his torturous ministrations, the shadow of a wry smile playing upon his lips. He reveled in the unfolding tableau, and were it not for the undeniable evidence concealed beneath his hakama, Doma might have failed to discern Kokushibo's own mounting desire. His digit, now shifting its focus to Doma's taint and then his quivering slit, brought about a gasp and a shuddering buck of his hips from his suboordinate.

“Oh, you intoxicate me,” was what Doma wanted nothing more than to convey at that moment—but he was thinking with the brain in between his legs now, and just choking out the phrase “I want you to fuck me” was a hassle on its own. So in lieu of those words, his body needily leaned into Kokushibo's tantalizing caress, eliciting a flinch, a fervent yelp, and the shadow of a chuckle as he was duly rewarded with the electrifying sting of a strike to his thigh.

“Out with it,” repeated Upper Moon One, eyes lazily trailing downwards towards Doma's slit. The hand on his thigh never quite ceased its position there, but it did gingerly slide upwards, halting just shy of his hip. “I much prefer hearing you mewl and beg...” Kokushibo leaned back, moving to take the awaiting bottle of oil beside them in his hand with a mumur, “...than I do seeing you throw your hips about without any abandon or shame... like a cheap harlot.”

Or perhaps he preferred a combination of both.

His movements were deft and fluid, and soon enough, Doma found his thighs tensing in ecstasy as his superior slid a slicked finger inside with ease. With a single thrust, followed by the benevolent curl of Kokushibo's digit, he effortlessly conducted a symphony of squirming, whimpering, and shuddering glee from the younger demon.

“Oh, god, yes— more of that,” he finally cried out, his moans now reaching crescendos of reckless abandon, “Please, I need— I nee-he-oh...!”

Something between a laugh and a keen leaves his mouth mid plea, and Kokushibo lavishes a hot tongue on his nipple. Simultaneously, the hand that had lingered on his upper thigh ventured upward to cup his pectoral—soft and sumptuous enough to rival a woman's bosom, and apparently just as sensitive as one, too.

“Go on,” Kokushibo rasped, following his words with a bite that sent his suboordinate gasping for air that he hardly needed to begin with. Doma seemed so caught up in the feeling of wet hotness lapping his erected nipple that he hardly had any reaction to the second and soon, third finger of Kokushibo's adding to the mess of oily slick that was his entrance. A wicked spectacle it was, to witness the unraveling of Doma's customary demeanor. Kokushibo, savoring every moment of it, traced a peppery path of kisses along both pectorals, infusing his actions with a deceptively sweet tenderness before descending upon the other nipple. “What do you need?”

“I need... I need your cock— inside me,” His own cock jumped as the pinching sensation returned at a sharper intensity, one that drew forth his blood. Blood that erupted upon his superior's taste buds—blood that was lapped up hungrily until the wound inevitably fizzled away.

To this, Upper Moon One withdrew his fingers, either deeming Doma loose enough or in an effort to keep him on the edge of release.

“Just inside you?” probed the demon, withdrawing his mouth and cupping hand to do away with his garments.

“Mnhh” with a hitch of his breath, Doma lowered his eyelids, and then his gaze. Seemed the man had a sword in between his legs too, he joked to himself. “I wan—... I need you to fuck me, Lord Kokushibo.” The latter cupped the back of Doma's left knee in response. “Please,” he added. There was a period of silence between the two after that.

“Turn around,” Kokushibo finally commanded, to which Doma obliged. A small part of him contemplated praising the man silently, for although he relished the act of instructing him to get on his knees, this time, the younger demon had done so without being expressly told—a noteworthy first.

Doma's body quivered in anticipation as the sizable tip of Kokushibo's arousal prodded at his entrance. It greedily swallowed up the intrusion alongside the thick shaft that followed, and he could've sworn he saw stars once their hips converged with a wet slap. Another exploratory snap of his superior's hips, and he wails with delight—All things considered, it quite pleased Kokushibo to know this wanton little orfice remembered him so very well.

Kokushibo maintained an unwavering grasp on Doma's hips, savoring every subtle contour of the younger demon's form and the symphony of beguiling sounds that flowed from his parted lips. There was no respite, no pause in the relentless storm that were his ceaseless thrusts, each one propelling his length to greater depths within Doma's quivering core. The younger demon, overwhelmed by the overstimulation, sought solace by burying his head into the silken sheets, his eyes cast upwards, and his mouth a veritable cascade of desire, saliva pooling in his abandon. His muffled ries and moans, somehow still unbridled and unrestrained, reverberated through the room and likely the halls beyond it. And it was always at that point that Kokushibo knew his conscience had been wholly eclipsed by the arduous affair.

In all sincerity, Doma was at his most endearing in this state. A harsh sentiment, perhaps, but in such moments, there existed no space for artifice or his foolish banter. In such moments, he was malleable, receptive to reminders of his place.. Just as he should be.

As Kokushibo's hand traversed the expanse of Doma's nape and traced an affectionate path along his back—perhaps the sole form of praise Doma would garner from his superior this night—he basked in the tender sensation, finding solace in the fleeting respite his dampened pillow couldn't hope to provide on its own.

However, that interlude of affection was destined to be brief. His hand, which had previously caressed Doma's back, now ventured to entwine itself in the younger demon's tousled locks. With a firm tug, akin to that of a leash, Kokushibo elicited a high-pitched squeal from Doma—a sound that he found utterly delicious, a brief indulgence before he shifted his focus.

At the crook of Doma's neck, Kokushibo bared his fangs, and with a savage bite, he drew forth yet another long bead of blood to be lapped up with grace. Kokushibo's lips closed around the wound, savoring the metallic tang of Doma's essence. From there, the rolling of his hips only grew more intense, and Doma's moans only grew louder.

“Such a piteous mess,” drawled Upper Moon One, muffled by his own painful ministrations. Doma threw his head back with whatever room he was allowed. “Merely a handful of thrusts, and you're wailing and contorting... like a desperate animal in the throes of heat.”

A well-placed blow to his rear incurred a yowl of pleasure from Doma—a response not born of wrongdoing but a delicious opportunity to chastise him in such a manner.

“M'sorry,” He babbled mindlessly, “M' a mess for you, Lord Kokushibo, I—mhn~!—feels so good, I'm...”

Kokushibo tore his fangs from the yielding flesh, savoring the yelp that ensued, along with the metallic tang of blood that tantalized his lips. He took a moment to relish the essence, licking it away with a deliberateness that bespoke his hedonistic enjoyment at that moment. As anticipated, the wound healed swiftly. He leaned back, drinking in the sight of Upper Moon Two, stripped of his dignity and forced to his knees within the confines of his own domain—a place where his image held paramount importance.

“You don't appear to be contrite in the slightest.” Kokushibo crooned, his voice oscillating between panting breaths and lascivious groans as he skillfully coaxed another cascade of mewls from Doma. His free hand deftly moved to stimulate the other's arousal, further heightening his pleasure. “I wonder,” he continued, his tone dripping with malice, “what might occur... if one of your devoted followers were to stumble upon this debauched scene... while you're ensnared in such a stupefying state?”

With another resolute thrust, Kokushibo's hand deftly manipulated Doma's frenulum, unleashing a searing tidal wave of pleasure that sent the younger demon reeling, stars dancing before his vision. In that moment of rapturous intensity, his brain grappled to process the words uttered, and when comprehension finally dawned, the thought alone made his cock twitch with fervor.

“How crassly forthright.” Kokushibo remarked, his grip on Doma's arousal tightening briefly, only to unleash a punitive slap upon the hypersensitive tip. The sharp sting gave rise to an immediate yelp of pleasure-pain, Doma's breath quickening with a sharp hitch as he teetered on the precipice of rapture and torment.

It was a sound judgement to have him face the door then, Kokushibo supposed, basking in the sounds he choked out of his suboordinate. Doma's vocalizations ran the gamut, ranging from rasped vulgarities to squeaky cries, and if there was one facet that Kokushibo genuinely admired about him, it was his voice—a mellifluous tenor that he might not have deserved but undeniably possessed. In the throes of passion, Doma made the most delectable sounds, each note growing more exquisite, more impassioned, as his inevitable climax approached.

And Kokushibo, true to his intent, was resolute in granting him that release, if not the preservation of his dignity. After all, he was exceptionally well-behaved tonight—and he had put the man through more than enough.

In that chamber, a tumultuous tempest of blurred ecstasy unfurled its rapturous banner. Devoid of ardor's solemn vows, bereft of any whispered oaths, release finally came. As Doma, his frame a symphony of ecstasy, ascended towards the zenith of his sensual reverie, Kokushibo, without much delay, joined him. With one last fervent thrust, Upper moon one stilled his hips, and the demons' release converged in sinewy strings of white amidst their frenzied sounds of pleasure, until there was nothing left to give.

Doma was the first to succumb to a semblance of exhaustion, his body yielding as Kokushibo's length slid out of him, leaving him in a languid sprawl as he finally had a moment to revel in the intoxicating fluids that now clung to him—an unapologetic mess of his superior's warm spent and his own perspiration that existed despite his naturally low body temperature. Kokushibo, his gaze fixated on the visage of Doma in his post-coital haze, contemplated the notion of a potential round two, had he the luxury of time.

With a sigh, he carefully removed the obi that had previously bound Doma's wrists, freeing the younger demon from his constraints. He proceeded to dress himself upon sliding off the bed as if nothing happened—although his apparent discomfort at his own perspired state was palpable.

“It would be prudent for you to summon your servants to attend to this... aftermath,” he remarked in a hushed tone, his words laced with an air of formality. “If there is anything you require me to procure for you... now would be the time to inquire. If not.. I'm taking my leave.”

“A kiss would be-”

“No.”

Doma grumbled, shuffling up to the edge where Kokushibo stood. Like clockwork, his perpetual smile returned, and of course, so did his cheekiness. Kokushibo, who had been facing the door, turned to look at him, utterly unamused.

“Would it kill you to give me just one...?” he pouted. “You said I could ask for anything I wanted just now... You're always so mean to me.”

“No,” Kokushibo repeated, adjusting the sash of his kimono. “...I said I'd give you whatever you needed. You don't need what you're asking for.”

Kokushibo reached for his sheathed katana and slid it into his obi with practiced precision. He was preparing for his departure, to which Doma deflated onto his bed in silent resignation.

“...Nor does it seem like you need anything from me at all,” he remarked stoically, turning his gaze forward. “So I will take my leave now.”

And with that, he was gone. Doma rolled over unto his back with a dramatic sigh. Maybe it was a need. His affection.

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊

Wowzer, that was a long one. Sorry for the long wait. I've been meaning to get this out for a whole week, but my perfectionist ass kept editing before the damn piece was actually finished. Anyway.... yeah, I'll probably post more of these two lol. Their banter was fun to write for sure.

[fandomandangstlover]

y'all wanna know about Wings of Blood's V1?

too bad, ah'm rumbling about it anyways. btw ah have no idea what ah wanna call V1, or fuck, even Gabriel?, so names might be changed in the future. yippee :thumbsup:

this isn't rlly all about V1, just. things about this au in general. ah have aus and ah need to rumble. feel free to ignore

- V1 is, very much stuck in a timeloop. where it resets when it kills Gabriel for good. no one rlly seems to notice except the Prime Souls (and V2 kinda? unsure as of now.)

- yes, the Gabriel in the Timeloop and the Gabriel? stuck in Purgatory are sorta separate people. Gabriel? is basically just future(aka fucking DEAD) ultrakill Gabriel. yeah imma call the Angel stuck in basically Purgatory "Gabriel?" or Angel till further notice.

something something.. Gabriel? doesn't recognize himself anymore. he's not the righteous hand of the father, he's not the judge of hell.. Gabriel was those things. Gabriel? is not, not anymore.

- V1 is kinda... numb to the Timeloop?? it's basically just infinite blood but he sorta develops a personality as each loop goes on. and man it's not dealing with his emotions well, as expected lmao.

- he's a little attached to Gabriel. in its own way, he sees him as a friend. he likes fighting him, he likes watching him laugh. the amount of times he goes through this just to see him again is.. yeah. idk what's going on between them but it's not straight lmao.

- Respawn is still a thing. Hell brings it back everytime it dies, and V1 sorta suspects it to be the reason for the Timeloop. it isn't. no one got a fuckin' clue on How in Fuck this in happenin'.

- Gabriel? does appear in his universe sometimes. he doesn't really have a stable way to differentiate the universes he's thrown into, so he often or not doesn't even know that this was his home. he often shows up in the Church in Heresy's final level, and rarely everywhere else.

he'll dance and play the oregon, or go up the levels just to see the sights. he's sneaky, of course. hiding and carefully flying around to avoid any demons or husks. he sometimes stay in Lust for awhile to just... repent? it's a reminder of what he had done in his blind faith. a reminder to unlearn them.

he encounters the Machine at times, too.

- V1 has seen & met Gabriel? before. In the loops that has gone by, he'll sometimes see glimpses of gold & red. he'll see those colors fly out of sight like a bird that got too close to a human.

when he managed to meet him in full, it was in the last Level of Heresy. it wasn't bathed in red, in fact, it's never covered red when Gabriel?'s around. it's.. bright. like the second phase of Gabriel's fight.

neither spoke. one because it was unable, and the other because it wouldn't matter. the Angel reached his hand out to the one who freed him from his chains, and the Machine took it without question. they danced the entire time. V1 never knew why Gabriel, not the one bleeding with his organs in full view dancing with him, didn't show up for his battle. but it knew that there's always be a next time to do so.

he would meet Gabriel? time and time again, always in rare moments and barely for more then a few hours. it would fight him, it would dance with him, and Gabriel almost found it with the Angel once. he ran before his past self could spot him.

- Gabriel? likes V1. he loves fighting it, he loves that it's actually a Challenge. he is eternitly grateful for what it has done to him. he's curious on what he could do, how many ways it could destroy him.

- yeah ah'm not sure if ah wanna make him a masochist or not. probably though. EDIT: RETCON AH ALREADY DID LMAO. anyways yeah dw he's fine with constantly injured. not sane at all but he's fine in that department, at least.

- uhh.... something something the Forest fucks with every bit of Gabriel?'s senses. sounds that he recognizes, glimpses of people, smells of blood & fire & everything else, the feeling of his wounds worsing.

- yeah Gabriel? looks HEAVILY fucked up. his wings are just Blood, his helo can go grey, pieces of his armour is broken to show organs, his helmet/head is cracked open with broken stars coming out of it, etc etc. ah honestly am not sure if ah wanna change his color scheme entirely or just.. add a color. but uh, yeah. yippee

kHxbsjakz wings of blood.... beloved.. things might change as time goes on but please enjoy a struggling mentally V1 & universe hopping fucked up Gabriel? !!

[flarekitti]

If we ever get another PMD with a brand new story, what Pokemon would you choose for hero and partner?

*if ur talkin like, options for people in the game, then i think it'd be ok to limit the number of starters (as much as it'd suck), but I'm not sure how so.

*it'd be fun to do like... a random assortment in the style of like, each pkmn gets a nature like the original but it's random as to which u get?

*Obvi i wouldnt want them to get gender split personally

*anyway maybe like, say brave is charmander, pika, machop, rowlet or something. Game rolls a die when you open up a new game and ur option if u get brave is [drum roll] machop! But if you don't get brave that doesn't rlly matter except for partner choosing bc it's whatever u didn't get personality-wise

*any pkmn that didn't get rolled could even have some significant role in some other way, like maybe another personality type could be assigned to a rival team (a team is assigned brave leader timid partner, and since u rolled machop then they have to roll for a dif one and got pika and cynda)

*for non starter options, i think all the ones from previous are obvi good choices! Otherwise, maybe a couple more pika clones (pawmi, marrill, and emolga could work?); fairy types like flabébé, impidimp, and fidough; a few regional birds like fletchling and rookidee; maybe a bug type like dwebble or sizzlipede (though id be worried about balancing issues for bug types i still want them 🥺 ); zorua (why hasnt zorua been added ... seems silly bc how popular it is); maybe another dragon like noibat, dreepy, or applin (or all 3 lol); lechonk could be cute (like munchlax's inclusion); and i also think rolycoly could be a cool twist one

*personally heres what i would assign each of them:

Hardy: Riolu, Grookey, Rolycoly!

Lonely: Cubone, Dwebble, Hisuian Zorua!

Brave: Charmander, Pawmi, Rookidee!

Adamant: Machop, Scorbunny, Larvitar!

Naughty: Alolan Meowth, Zorua!

Bold: Pikachu, Chespin, Tyrunt!

Docile: Bulbasaur, Marrill, Teddiursa!

Relaxed: Squirtle, Sprigatito, Lotad!

Impish: Chimchar, Impidimp, Wattrel!

Lax: Munchlax, Litten, Lechonk!

Timid: Cyndaquil, Rowlet, Sizzlipede!

Hasty: Skitty, Galarian Meowth, Bagon!

Serious: Shinx, Oshawott, Venipede!

Jolly: Totodile, Fuecoco, Applin!

Naïve: Eevee, Emolga, Dreepy!

Modest: Mudkip, Fidough, Ralts!

Mild: Piplup, Sobble, Axew!

Quiet: Vulpix, Flabébé, Cufant!

Bashful: Chikorita, Tepig, Noibat!

Rash: Torchic, Fletchling, Aron!

Calm: Turtwig, Fennekin, Trapinch!

Gentle: Phanpy, Quaxly, Cutiefly!

Sassy: Meowth, Snivy, Amaura!

Careful: Treecko, Froakie, Snorunt!

Quirky: Psyduck, Popplio, Spheal!

*originally i stuck to the list i made but then only some had 3 so i went back and found more i think would fit so all the natures have 3 lol

*anyway im super partial to the personality quiz, i think it's really fun and makes you try out new things (and if u rlly want to stick to ur faves u can still game it / add a "you choose" option lmao)!!!

*so i wouldnt necessarily choose one myself, id try the quiz first and try my best hehe.

*out of just starters/the traditional picks, i would want to be charmander for sure, and whatever partner in the list covers charmanders weaknesses! (Mudkip mostly lol), but out of this entire list I'd be happy with most of em?

*if it was like gates and only the newest gen could be picked id choose fuecoco, if the last 3 gens were picked, I'd have a hard time deciding between litten and fuecoco (probs litten)

*i wish i had more time to sit and balance the list i made, bc on the surface i think i chose a good variety but also i probs am biased bc i love fire and dragon but then also i like little pathetic ones too so it's probs all over the place hehe.

[wosemi-sama]

hii!! this is kinda out of the blue but that doesnt rlly matter lmao. anyway this is inspired by probably-not-niigo's werewolf mafuyu posts. also mafuyu is transmasc in this (for obvious reasons). also this is set in winter bc yeah. enjoy!! :D

werewolf! mafuyu asahina x reader

Mafuyu was in his half werewolf form, his purple ears and tail twitching and wagging as he ran all over your shared apartment on his hands and knees. He looked so fluffy... and although you REALLY wanted to pet him, you were trying your best to console him. It was a full moon, which meant it was time for him to transform into his werewolf form. The two of you were cuddling on the couch and watching Christmas movies until you were interrupted by Mafuyu's sudden half transformation.

After a while, you finally got a hold of your werewolf boyfriend. You were sitting on the couch and petting him behind the ears, doing whatever it took to calm him down.

Unfortunately, that didn't last very long as Mafuyu got a look at the window behind the couch. He looked out the window and saw that it was snowing. He glanced at the people on the streets below as snow fell onto the concrete roads and sidewalks started. Mafuyu got excited, wagging his tail and starting to run around again. This triggered his full werewolf form.

A big purple dog was now running around the apartment, the pitter-patter that was made every time his paws struck the floor was filling the apartment. You sighed, getting his leash. You knew he wanted to go for a walk in the snow. You also knew that this was probably the only way to calm Mafuyu down.

You lazily threw on a winter coat over your pajama pants and hoodie. You put on a pair of earmuffs and your favorite pair of winter boots. You also put on a pair of gloves, just to be safe. You put on Mafuyu's collar and attached his leash. Dogs aren't allowed in your apartment building, so you quickly came up with a plan in your head.

Since it was night, most people would've been in their apartments. You determined that if you walked slowly, nobody would see or hear you and Mafuyu.

Mafuyu, of course, had other plans. The moment the door to your apartment opened, he dashed out, and ran all over the place. You locked your door and suddenly, Mafuyu was pulling you by his leash.

"Mafuyu! Slow down!" You shouted, trying to stop yourself from crashing into a wall.

Mafuyu did anything but listen. Somehow, you saw nobody except you and Mafuyu in the building.

You quickly found yourself outside your apartment building and onto the street outside. Mafuyu was pulling you into what seemed to be the direction to the park. This was expected, since there was big enough space to run around and play in the snow.

Upon arrival, Mafuyu started rolling around in the snow, getting covered in it from head to toe.

"Mafuyu, you look like you're covered in powdered sugar!" You laughed.

Snow was gracefully falling from the dark December sky as you played with him in the snow. You thought to yourself about how Mafuyu seemed so much happier, now that he's finding out who he truly is. He had discovered what freedom truly felt like when he moved out from his parents' house and cut off contact with his mother. He became happier when he got back to making music with his friends. He became a lot happier now that he lived with you. Mafuyu likes you a lot. You should remember that, by the way.

[ohbo-ohno]

haiiii zomg I am FERAL over ur dark stuff n I just HAD to ask how would dlmliyh Ghoap react to a reader w/ low libido? Like she's not rlly very sensitive, it takes soooo long to cum no matter what, she's just not very into sex all the time.

this is gonna sound horrible but i feel like they. would not particularly care. if it takes you a long time to get off, they'll spend a long time getting you off and enjoy every second of it. if sex was something you didn't really enjoy, they'd find some way to pavlov/brainwashing you into enjoying it anyway. they're not exactly consent kings in that fic lmao