#he brings flowers which is nice ^^

[slashingdisneypasta]

Imagine that you're completely sick as a dog. You're sweaty and hot to the touch but at the same time feel cold as ice, the only orifice of yours that isn't leaking some kind of muck is your ears, and you're just plain miserable.

Which of your F/O's stays with you and takes care of you? Which ones stay away and call periodically to check up? If they do show up- do you let them in to see you???

[kaidabakugou]

the new girl at one of my favorite bakeries called me pretty this morning and it literally melted all my stress away 🥺

[koling2345]

Simon with a young and soft girlfriend. NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was completely whipped for you, would do anything you asked without question, he'd kiss even the ground you walked on, just say the word and he'll do it.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Bought a new cell phone just to talk to you, his old cubicle could barely hold a video call with you, and now he could finally listen to you chatting away with him every time he had free time. And.. You also sent him some really nice pictures, and he kept them all on his new cell phone for his own personal use.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Sometimes it took him a while to catch up with you in all your youth, not physically, but in your interests, hobbies, the games you liked, series you watched. He wasn't that old, but keeping up with everything you did wasn't that easy, but he tried to get into your vibe. Give him a few days, he'll soon have everything in a notebook, the game you're so excited about, he'll soon be talking with you about it. He makes a point of knowing something or other, just to get into your world, to make you happy.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Melted in place when you showed off your new hoodie, which had his name, 'Riley, written right across the chest. You looked so beautiful wearing an outfit with his name written on it, as if it were a ownership, and he was grateful that you wore the hoodie without any shame, proudly showing who you belonged to.

Boyfriend! Simon who: After listening to you nagging him all week to get a hoodie just like yours, with your name on it, he finally gave in and made one. Just like yours, it had your name on the chest, showing everyone what a couple you two were. As much as he thought it was corny to wear matching clothes, he didn't mind if it was with you. He even put a Kuromi print on his hoodie, since you almost cried for him to put something from Hello Kitty on it. Sometimes he hated this cat and her derivatives, but he did it for you. All for his princess.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Always bought things for you, every time he came to see you, he never came empty-handed. Were you on your period? He would bring you chocolates and flowers, along with your favorite snacks. Did you pass through a store and want to buy something? Well, it'll be at your house as soon as possible. If he couldn't bring it himself, you could be sure that the package would arrive at your house the next day. He wasn't petty, he had plenty of money to spend and he liked spending it on you.

Boyfriend! Simon who: When he went out with you, he wouldn't let you spend a penny, no matter if you wanted a simple ice-cream, he would pay for you. And if he saw your eyes glazing over at something you saw in the shop window, he'd go and pick it up with you. Every time you went out together, you always came back with several bags of shopping, along with the plushies you loved so much. Simon didn't even know how you were going to fit more stuffed animals into your room, with all the stuff you already had.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Is a complete gentleman to you, carries your bag, always takes his helmet off you, as well as before you get on his bike, he attaches the helmet in place himself. He's the type to take you on his arms, just to stop you stepping in a puddle of water and getting your feet wet. And if you're tired, he'll carry you like a princess all the way home without complaint.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Is quite jealous of you, you're young, beautiful, and you're with an old geezer like him. Although he recognized his own value, he couldn't help but feel a sense of possession over you every time someone looked at you with ulterior motives. As a result, he would always mark you on the neck, or put a hand around your waist, always putting a part of himself in you so that everyone would know who you belonged to.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was a completely kind prince to you on the streets, but he would wreck you inside the bedroom. He loved that you were all submissive to him, always taking him so well, accommodating him as if you were made for it. Even if he opened you all up with his fat cock, your tight cunt would stretch to accommodate him, it was like heaven on earth.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Made you bend over all night, fucking you on all fours, your ass up while he admired the new panties you made such a point of showing off to him. 'Simon's' was the writing on the lace, just seeing you wearing it made his cock throb, he took several photos of you wearing the panties, as well as giving you a good spanking session while you were over his knees, just because you loved being his good little girl.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Recorded a video as soon as he had worn you out on the bed, pulling his cock out of you, to see the mess coming out of your pussy that was full, opening your folds just to see his cum running down your thighs. Your cunt full of him, leaking because he came so hard in you. It's not his fault, seeing you on your stomach, your panties written 'Simon's', you were begging to be fucked. And he'd love to watch the video he recorded himself, his time alone at the base would be lovely.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Had a photo of you on his cell phone, bent over his knee while wearing a short skirt and thigh-high stockings, ass up, pink lace panties. On top of that, a bright red mark on your ass, the mark of the slap he had given you minutes before taking the photo, he is very proud to use this picture, and he's not shy if someone caught it. In addition, the lock screen photo was of you smiling while wearing his famous balaclava, one of the few times he let you touch the mask. Not that he regrets it.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Knew he was going on a dangerous mission, he didn't know when he was coming back, or if he was coming back. So a week before going on said mission, he took a whole week to spend with you. No work, no nothing, just him and you.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Fucked you all week, on your stomach, bending over, missionary, cowgirl, on the wall, living room, bedroom, bathroom, table, floor. Any surface he could slide his thick cock into your folds was fine with him. He couldn't stand the sight of you bending down to pick something up, or when you wore his clothes inside the house. The sight automatically made his cock throb, hard as a rock to fuck you again, always making sure to fill you with his seed, to the point where it was leaking out of you. Only then is he sure that he's filled you to the brim, like a good boyfriend does.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Wasn't very good with goodbyes, so he fucked you all night, all night he had you in a missionary, that's when he wasn't burying himself between your legs. He filled you up so well that night, the bed was full of wet spots, your pussy as full as ever, he'd leave you leaking with his cum, mixing your mess with his, just to bury himself in you and start all over again. He was relentless. His job was done, since you slept like an angel that night.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Went out on his mission early in the morning, grateful that you were out like a light, covered in sucks and marks from last night, making him tempted to go back to bed and hold on to you. But he couldn't, so he settled for a kiss on your lips and forehead. His farewell was a handwritten letter, explaining the details and saying that he loved you very much and would come back to you. Even so, it wasn't enough to prevent the tears that fell down your cheeks when you found out everything.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Even though he was on the battlefield, he couldn't stop thinking about you, always trying to maintain some kind of contact, sending messages every time he had a second of time, and if it was possible, when he was resting, he would call you. Every time the mission dragged on, he felt a sense of dread in his chest. Simon couldn't have realized how important you were, and that scared him, because for the first time in a long time, he was afraid that he wouldn't be alive to finish the mission. He promised himself that if he made it out alive, he would ask for your hand in marriage.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Stayed in a very remote area, his cell phone didn't work there, and he had no way of communicating with you, and that killed him inside, not being able to know how you were. And you were worried to death, thinking the worst.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Came home after four and a half months, of those four months he spent three without being able to talk to you. So as soon as he got off the plane that brought him back, he went to your apartment, stopping first at a jewelry store to buy you a ring, and he spared no expense. You were going to be his wife.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was all giddy about arriving at your house, preparing to give you a surprise. As well as coming back alive, he was going to ask you to marry him, get on his knees for you. Then he rang the doorbell, still dressed in his work uniform, the box with the ring in one hand, and your favorite flowers in the other.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you after all this time. It wasn't just emotion, his eyes caught your form, wearing one of his shirts, which barely did the job of covering your swollen belly. Well, it seems, he wasn't the only one with a surprise.

[deathofacupid]

⤷ in which husband!nanami is truly dedicated to you, and only you .ᐟ

the epitome of all gentlemen — husband!nanami.

husband!nanami who tells you he loves you everyday, but he shows you, too.

husband!nanami who loves your cooking so much. he always takes the bento you make for him to his office, and looks forward to lunch just for it.

husband!nanami will always hold the door open for you, without missing a beat. your hands are so soft and warm, they don’t deserve to touch filthy door handles. the same goes with pulling out chairs — he won’t ever let you sit down on your own, not if he can help it.

husband!nanami who brings you flowers every monday. he thinks it’s a wonderful way to start the week, with the reminder that he’ll constantly be by your side.

husband!nanami used to keep one, just to make sure that he knew when to get you new ones. now he just gets you them every week, and every week, you’re just as happy.

husband!nanami, whenever he gets food, gets a little extra for you. he’s frequently thinking, “oh, y/n might want some.”

husband!nanami, who whenever sees even a single strand out of place, goes to fix it. it’s also an excuse to touch you, he won’t lie.

husband!nanami always want to be touching you. whether it’s at a work event or supermarket, he will have his hand on you, in one form or another. most of the time, he’s holding your hand, but if you’re doing something, he’ll settle for resting it at the small of your back.

husband!nanami, whenever he’s on a mission, leaves hidden notes around the house. it’s a nice way to cheer you up when you miss him. you always text him when you find one, giddy smile on your face. little do you know, he’s got the same expression.

husband!nanami who devotes his entire being to his beloved wife.

all banner credits to @dollywons and @anitalenia, and it's based off this post .ᐟ

[dante-mightdie]

Hot and sweaty Rancher!John fixing a tractor, riding of his hat and wiping the sweat off his face with a ratty rag he keeps in his back pocket.

Reader offers him a nice cold soda, ends up getting their 🐱 eaten by him as a ‘thank you’. A few days later, reader gets John a handkerchief with some flowers embroidered in the corner to replace that sweat rag he’s been using.

Or nah?

(nsfw content below)

you’re too good for a mean old bastard like him, he tells himself when you hand him a ice cold glass bottle of cherry cola. you would disagree if he said it out loud which is why he settles for gulping down the too sweet soda in just three gulps as a man of his size is apparently one to do

how nice of you to bring him a cold drink from the general store on your way back from sunday service. shifting nervously in your modest heels and pretty skirted dress. they’re a bit worn but you make ‘em look brand new. he’ll get you all the dresses you want when you finally let him slip his great grandmother’s ring onto your finger

you’re waiting for a thank you, something to let you know he enjoyed your kind gesture. since he’s not one for gentle words, he herds you until you’re backed up against the tractor. hoisting you up onto the worn leather seats, landing you gently as a surprised gasp leaves your lips

skirts bunches around your waist as his grubby hands paw at your soft flesh. greedy tongue licking and sucking every crevice of your cunt. your perfectly filed nails tugging on the greased strands of his hair, heels kicking against his back until you come on his tongue

you hand him the handkerchief with his dinner the next day, folded neatly under the plate so he can’t see what it is before you scuttle off. catches a glimpse of his initials engraved in the corner right before he was gonna wipe his mouth clean, luckily he caught himself before that could happen

he ain’t using that rag for sweat or crumbs, he’ll leave it in his laundry for you to wash. evidence of his spend from the night before, no shame on his face when you give it back with burning cheeks…

[writersdrug]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of man who:

In your shared home, always sits with his legs spread. Manspreading king. Adores it when you cross your arms and give him a disapproving look, saying there's no room for you. "Course there is, luv. Jus' sit between my thighs."

Refuses to let you do simple tasks around the house, like making tea, folding his underwear, or putting away the dishes. One might think it's a sweet, husbandly gesture - but he's just super picky. You made tea in the microwave once, and now you're banned from ever touching his tea stash. Likes his underwear folded in a specific way, and you don't understand the importance of it. He got tired of you stuffing his underwear in his drawer, so now he folds it himself. And the dishes? Couldn't stand how you put them away. "There's no rhyme or reason to 'em." "I didn't think there had to be, Si-" "Just gimme the damn bowl." Fewer chores? You aren't complaining.

Looks like he's always on edge - and he is, kinda. When he's out with you, he can't help but be alert and watchful, and extremely protective of you. You've tried to get him to loosen up - it's the supermarket, what could happen? - but have just come to accept it as his nature. Plus, you get that giddy feeling when you see other men look straight down at the floor, avoiding Simon's stare as the two of you pass.

Is the grumpiest, poutiest, and most indignant man ever when he gets sick. Doesn't want you doting on him in case you catch whatever he has. But, wait - where are you going? "Get your ass back in this bed - 'm cold." Grumbles like a child when you force him to let you get up to grab him soup, tea, or medicine. And no, he doesn't care how sick he is, he's not wearing that stupid, floppy ice pack hat.

Brings Johnny over unannounced, and you've grown used to it. The moment you hear that Scottish yapping out the front door as the key unlocks, you grab a third plate for dinner - he insists you don't need to feed him, but you always make extra for Simon's lunch the next day regardless, and the last time he'd said that, he ended up grabbing an extra fork and picking from Simon's plate. Which, of course, had Simon up at 1 am making instant ramen because he was still hungry, but didn't have the heart to ask you to make him a decent meal. So, yes, Johnny would be fed.

Loves spoiling you on your birthday. What is a man if not someone who spoils his partner rotten? Orders in food from your favorite bakery, sets all your presents neat and nice on the table (the excellent wrapping job done by yours truly, Gaz), flower petals sprinkled on the ground and the table top (also Gaz's idea), and a seat on his lap so for you while you open your presents. Loves watching your face light up, and each little "you remembered?!" fall from your lips as you open each gift. Scoffs and shifts in his seat. "I's not that much of a fuss, luv..." as you squeal excitedly, but you know he's biting back a proud smile. The blush, he can't even attempt to hide.

Is somehow a magnet for your young nephews. Every time he comes along to your sister's place, he's either making conversation with her husband in the living room, or he's interrogated and cornered by her two sons. And, lord help him, he doesn't understand it either. He'd always expected kids to look at him like a monster, but, especially with these two, that was never the case. They'd ask him for stories about "being in war" - half of the time, he'd make up some not-too-gory adventure, sparing them the details of real war. The rest of the time, he'd talk about "Soap, my mate who blows everything up." And they'd listen with wide eyes and jaws on the floor.

Has scared you unintentionally, more than too many times. He'd come home at three in the morning from a mission, and all he wanted was to quietly peel his dirty uniform off and slip into bed with you. His main intention was to avoid waking you up, because you'd force him to shower before joining you in bed - and he was too tired for that. However, you'd been rounding the corner, up for your 3 am glass of water - you screamed as you saw the hulking, dark figure by the front door, launching your phone at him. He'd caught it effortlessly and shoved it into his back pocket. "What've I told ya 'bout using the bat?" "I was just getting water!" "I coulda been anyone." "Well you're not." "Missed ya, luvie." "Missed you too- but you're grimy. Go take a-" "No." He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests as he hauled you back to bed.

[lvl1l1]

LaDS men when you get flowers from someone else

pairings: Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier, Caleb, Zayne x F!Reader(separate)

content: jealousy, fluff, caleb and xavier are a teensy bit insane, charlie taking another L

Sylus

You two decided to spend the weekend at your apartment, he obviously wouldn’t be caught dead showing up empty handed.

As you open the door, the first thing you see is a beautifully arranged bouquet of camellias and carnations. The second is the smug grin on your boyfriend’s face, which is wiped right off as soon as he steps into your living room and notices the pathetically small bouquet you had already hosted in a vase.

“Kitten, was your budget for those flowers chump change and a dream? You should’ve known, I’d bring you a little something.”

Once you tell him, that those were a gift from a co-worker for helping him out, his demeanour shifts slightly, unnoticeable to the untrained eye. Luckily, you were the one person who could see right through him.

Not like that mattered, when he went to grab his phone before you could even say anything. You see him tap around a little before raising it to his ear, speaking into the device.

“Yeah, I want them all delivered.”

You look at him with furrowed brows and he finally went back to paying attention to you. A sharp smile makes its way to his face.

“I don’t mind you leaving these, to put it bluntly, sad flowers here. They’ll make all the bouquets i’m getting you stand out even more.”

The unimpressed stare you give him, clearly doesn’t phase him, as he just walks into your bedroom, pulling you along.

“You deserve only the best, the biggest and the grandest. For everything.”

“You’re almost winning me over, Sy. But shouldn’t we wait until those poor florists actually deliver whatever ridiculous amount of flowers you ordered?”

At that, Sylus pulled you closer, nuzzling his face into your hair,

“The flowers will be fine waiting outside of your door. It’ll also be a nice way to send a message to everyone living in this apartment complex. Now, how about a lesson in why you shouldn’t accept flowers from other men?”

You sigh first, suddenly going rigid as a realisation hits you,

“I don’t have enough vases. Or even space for more flowers!”

Being the last thing you mumbled before your bedroom door closed with a ‘click’.

Rafayel

You two were out running some errands together, grabbing art supplies for him, groceries and what-not.

Linkon City was as lively as ever, a melting pot for diverse people. You and Rafayel held hands, pushing through the crowd.

Rafayel was about to pull you into another store, when you’re stopped by a man.

He’s holding a small bouquet of red roses and smiles at you, not looking at Rafayel,

“Hi, miss. We’re giving out free flowers today, these are for you.”

You feel Rafayel squeeze your hand and you know he’s glaring without even looking at him,

“Oh, thank you but I don’t-“

The man practically shoves the flowers into your free hand,

“I insist. Have a good day!”

And with that, he turns and leaves you standing there holding the small bouquet.

A hum leaves your throat, shrugging and leaning in to smell the flowers, before you’re stopped by your boyfriend.

“Why would you accept these ugly flowers? There’s no artistic flair, just basic roses and their stems aren’t even cut evenly! Honestly, It’s like he’s trying to harass my girlfriend by making her look at something so hideous. Besides, you have a rich boyfriend capable of making you a wayyy better bouquet standing right here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips curling upwards, leaning closer to him,

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened at that, mouth falling open slightly,

“These are clearly just for a campaign, he’s just working. I wouldn’t have accepted them otherwise, don’t worry.”

Your boyfriend jutted out his lower lip, taking the bouquet out of your hand. He made the flowers go up in flames and before you could react he pulled you towards the nearest flower shop.

“Doesn’t matter. My girlfriend deserves flowers as pretty as her. I’m arranging this bouquet myself and it’ll be the prettiest you’ve ever seen!”

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics but you couldn’t help but appreciate his effort. So, you let him pull you along.

Xavier

It was date night and you and Xavier decided to go to your usual hotpot place. You were waiting outside of your apartment building for him, as he went to grab his wallet that he had forgotten at his place.

You were leaning against the gate, when a familiar voice suddenly called out to you,

“Oh, hey! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Charlie walked up to you, you flashed him a little smile as you noticed the flowers he was holding.

“Someone brought me these at the bakery today! They look nice, don’t you think?”

You nodded curtly, not wanting to talk to him for too long, knowing Xavier might see.

Not taking the hint, Charlie’s face lit up, an idea flashing through his mind, not having learned anything from your last interaction.

“Hey, why don’t you take them? I don’t really have a place for them anyway.”

Not waiting for your reply, he pushed the bouquet towards you. Hesitantly, you take them,

“I don’t think this is a good idea-“

He waved you off and went to walk inside.

You stared at the flowers, biting your lips, thinking of what to do before Xavier returned.

You knew it was too late once you noticed the streetlights flickering and an ominous presence manifesting behind you.

“Throw them away.”

You quickly straightened your posture, turning around with a teasing smile,

“Hey there, Xav.”

“Throw them away.”

He repeated in a serious tone.

A sigh left you,

“I was planning on doing that anyway. Don’t you think it’d be a waste though?”

Xavier shook his head, a stern expression on his usually neutral face.

“Doesn’t matter, they’re ugly anyway. Besides, who gives away a gift they received? He’s got no shame.”

You raised an eyebrow at him,

“Why didn’t you come out earlier, if you were here already?”

He came closer, taking the flowers out of your grasp, not answering. He teleported over to the dumpsters, throwing the flowers in.

“I’ll get you prettier ones. Ones that actually mean something.”

You met him halfway and grabbed his hand,

“Alright. But let’s get going, before we miss our reservation.”

Xavier’s expression finally softened, a small smile making its way to his face as he looked at you.

You two started walking, you started talking to him about your day and he listened, nodding along.

Luckily, you didn’t notice how the entire buildings lights suddenly went out. He was gonna deal with that evil baker later.

Caleb

Caleb just got done cooking, when he finally heard a knock on his door.

You had finally gotten some days off after a gruelling week filled with missions back to back and you were staying with him in Skyhaven.

He was planning on helping you relax the entire time you were going to be with him. He would cook for you, take you wherever you wanted to go and monopolise your attention.

The brunet happily opened the door, immediately greeting you with a hug,

“Pipsqueak, I gave you the key to my place for a reason. You don’t have to knock.”

You giggled at him, walking inside and taking your shoes off with one hand.

That’s when he noticed the flowers you were holding, he cocked his head, not saying anything.

“Oh, a friend of mine gave these to me right before I left! Do you have a vase we could put them in?”

Caleb’s brows furrowed, his eyes darkening slightly.

“What was the occasion? These aren’t even your favourite flowers. Would expect them to be thoughtful, when pulling off a gesture like this.”

You looked at him, amused.

“Caleb, they’re just flowers. From someone who’s just a friend.”

He walked into the living room with you, looking at the bouquet like it personally offended him.

“Well, seems like we’ll have to take the bouquet apart, pipsqueak. Your friend put iris and chrysanthemums together. Vastly different vase life, would be bad if we put them together. Might as well throw them out, honestly. I’ll get you flowers that actually survive together.”

He didn’t miss the scepticism on your face as you put the bouquet on the coffee table. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Caleb, honey, you don’t need to let it out on the flowers, they’re innocent. My friend was just trying to be nice but if they bother you, we can throw them away.”

His hands found your waist, as he looked at you with those eyes, resembling a kicked puppy.

“But if you like them…”

You shook your head,

“They’re just flowers. You can just get me some. Or even better, I’ll bring you some next time!”

His face lit up again, pressing your foreheads together,

“You don’t need to bring me flowers, pips. That’s my job! Besides, I actually know which flowers you like, I’d never just carelessly put a bouquet together.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, realising what he was pulling,

“Caleb, you-“

He picked you up and brought you over to the kitchen, putting you down on the counter.

“Too late, you already agreed.”

He winked at you, and you noticed something fly out the window through your peripheral vision.

“Now, let’s eat and after that I’ll take you out shopping. We’ll pick up some flowers on the way.”

Zayne

Zayne was just finishing up the last of his work at the hospital, when he received a text from you,

“ahhh i just saw them, love the flowers zaynie! thank you so much”

He stared at his phone in confusion, trying to think of a response,

“What are you talking about, love?”

You sent him a picture of a bouquet of amaryllis, followed up by a text,

“they’re so pretty! they were just delivered, thank u<3”

His fingers twitched, as he left his office, making his way to his car.

“Leave them on the table. I’ll be home soon.”

With that, he put his phone away and got in his car.

-

You were slightly confused at Zayne’s last text but did as he said.

Once you heard keys turn in the lock, you quickly walked over to the door to welcome your boyfriend.

The door pushed open and your boyfriend walked inside, you noticed his bag wasn’t the only thing he was holding.

He presented you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, before he even took off his coat.

“…welcome back, dear.”

The confusion in your voice evident, still accepting the flowers gratefully.

Zayne quietly took off his shoes and hung up his coat, pressing a kiss to your temple before walking into the kitchen.

“These flowers…”

He picked them off the table and glanced at them.

“They were delivered, yes? Did a note come with them?”

You went to stand next to him, holding the bouquet he just brought you,

“Nope. I’ll take it, those aren’t from you?”

He let out an affirmative hum,

“What do you say, we gift these to the elderly lady next door? And you find a vase for the ones I got you.”

“Sounds good! Just… who do you think sent these?”

His gaze met yours and his eyes lit up with affection for you.

“I’m not sure but I intent to find out. I can’t just stand by and watch as someone tries to make the woman I love swoon.”

You chuckled at that, switching to holding the bouquet he got you with one hand, caressing his face with your other,

“No one besides you could ever make me swoon, Zayne.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes,

“I know. Still, I won’t let this slide. I want you to be happy over things that are actually from me.”

At that, you press a sweet kiss to his lips. He was just so lovely.

[kashverse]

yuji and papamin would probably collect a bunch of flowers for mamamin during their walks🥹💞

evening walks were sacred in the nanami household. they were as essential as brushing your teeth, drinking water, or nanami sighing dramatically at the state of the world. but tonight, you had to sit this one out, thanks to your monthly. yuuji, however, refused to let this injustice go unchallenged. "don’t worry, mama!" he declared, fists on his tiny hips. “i will walk extra for you! double! no, triple!” nanami, already anticipating the inevitable "papa, carry me" halfway through the walk, merely nodded. "that’s very kind of you, yuuji."

“yeah! and i will bring you back something nice!” 

with that, your brave, noble knight and his weary father set off into the cool evening air. 

it didn’t take long for yuuji’s side quest instincts to kick in.

"papa, look! flowers!"

nanami followed his son's pointing finger to a random field of wildflowers. pink, yellow, blue, purple—the whole place looked like a painter sneezed on it. yuuji marched in with purpose, stopping every few seconds to pick a flower, inspecting each one with a level of intensity that made nanami slightly concerned. "this one is pink, like babykuna's hair!" he beamed, twirling a tiny blossom in his fingers. “this one is soft, like your bread, papa!” nanami raised an eyebrow. "my bread is much softer."

"yeah, but I can’t pick your bread from the ground."

nanami opened his mouth, then closed it. fair point. but then came the hardest challenge of all. 

choosing colors.

yuuji, ambitious as ever, decided he needed every color that reminded him of you. which, apparently, was every single color known to mankind. and so, overwhelmed by his own high expectations, he dramatically plopped down in the middle of the field, arms spread like a fallen soldier. "papa, it's too hard," he whined. "mama likes all the colors. i can't pick them all. the world is too big."

nanami, who had not signed up for a philosophical crisis in the middle of an evening walk, sighed and crouched beside his son. "then take a little of everything, yuuji. that way, you won’t have to choose."

yuuji's eyes widened in awe, as if nanami had just revealed the meaning of life. "papa… you’re so smart."

"i try," nanami muttered, gathering some flowers and carefully helping yuuji tie them together with a sturdy piece of grass.

by the time they got home, yuuji stormed into the bedroom at full speed, launching himself onto the bed like a small, enthusiastic meteor. "mama, mama! i bringed—i mean, i brought you something!"

you barely had time to react before a very serious bouquet of wildflowers was shoved into your face. "i picked them just for you!" he beamed, chest puffed out with pride.

"oh, yuuji, they’re beautiful!" you cooed, admiring the colorful mess of flowers and slightly bent grass. meanwhile, nanami, who hadn’t even taken off his walking shoes, was already settling into place beside you, effortlessly resuming his official foot massager duties.

"you went through all this trouble just for me?" you asked, smiling down at your little boy. yuuji nodded furiously. "yep! i walked extra, i picked flowers, and i almost got lost in the big big world."

nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “he sat down in a field for five minutes.” yuuji pouted. "it was a long five minutes."

you giggled, reaching out to ruffle his soft pink hair. "thank you, sweetheart. this is the best bouquet I’ve ever gotten."

yuuji grinned so wide his cheeks almost swallowed his eyes. "i love you, mama!"

"i love you too, baby."

nanami pressed a tired kiss to your temple, still kneading your foot with expert precision. "i think I deserve some credit too," he murmured. "i carried him half the way back."

yuuji nodded sagely. "yeah. papa's muscles are the only reason i made it home alive."

you laughed, your heart full, as your two favorite boys settled in beside you—one with flowers, one with strong massage therapist hands, and both with all the love in the world.

[dollyichi]

DUMB PETALS ᯓ★ bakugou katsuki. fluff / f ! reader in mind (just in case) / in my head i want them to be engaged / katsuki who amps up his acts of service and gifts because you’re engaged :p / not proofread

katsuki who says “huh? don’t be stupid.” when you ask for flowers but deep down he’s really pissed off cause you beat him to it.

now, he has to one up you.

you don’t get any flowers at all, it’s been a week since your request too. you begin to wonder if he just didn’t want to bother, which made you a little bit sad. his affection never changed though. you think that maybe, he just didn’t have the time to since the demand for heroes were high recently.

then one day he tells you to wear something nice and get in the car. though you’re still a little sulky, thinking about how he ignored your request (you never brought it up again). he pulls you up from the bed to change “stop acting like a brat.” he says while pulling down your top from your head acting difficult and having him dress you himself. (vocally complains, internally is satisfied).

and he drives, acting all casual, acting like normal and you didn’t know why he wanted to leave so suddenly, nor where he wanted to go.

parks somewhere, gets out, opens your door before he leads you to where he wanted you to be. and when you reach the destination your eyes widen from shock.

“here’s your dumb flowers. a whole fucking field of them.” he says acting all tough, but seeing your reaction he can’t help but say it with a soft smile.

and you look at the pretty field of your favorite flowers (which you never specified, by the way) and you’re not sure how this was even possible but he was always able to, and you’re so grateful for him.

before you know it, you’re looking at him as your lips quivered, unaware how you’re tearing up because of this.

katsuki pulls you into a warm hug while the lovely scent of its petals flew around you both. “aww well aren’t you so fucking romantic?” and he couldn’t help but chuckle while you sniffle in between words.

“yeah yeah, i love you too.” pulling you in a gentle kiss.

you took so many pictures with him in the field. he even brought a basket for you so you can pick them to bring home.

now you have to be extra careful asking for something. maybe you should just stick to giving hints again. besides, he’ll always know what you exactly want.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : they are two wolves inside me. katsuki and his simplistic way to show his affection, and katsuki with grand gestures there is no in between and today i chose the latter

[sunflowerdjarin]

Company

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x Reader

Warnings: None?

A/N: I have not written fanfiction in literal years, so be gentle with me and let me know if you would like more of Bob.

-

“Will you keep Bob company?” He asked. “He gets lonely sometimes and he likes you, really.” Bucky reassured. Bob only truly spoke to you when necessary. It was nothing rude. Bob didn’t have a rude bone in his body, you knew that, but placing two rather reserved people in a room together didn’t lead to the most exhilarating conversations.

You nodded back, “I can do that. I’m not sure how, but I can do that.” You looked down at the to do list for the tower and at the bottom added a swift note, “Keep Bob company.” With a star next to it. “Thank you. I appreciate it, and I’m sure he will too.”

The first day was quiet. Bob sat alone in his room. He knew it wasn’t the best idea for him. It was after all isolation. He had been so used to the house buzzing with lively characters. Instead, he could only hear your light footsteps and soft humming through the floor. There was a light background noise coming from the television from the main living room. Bob wasn’t meaning to avoid you. He never meant to avoid you. You made him so incredibly flustered that he felt all thoughts leave his head, which made it difficult for conversation.

There was a light tap on the door. “Come- Come in.” Bob called out. The door lightly opened. You stood in a plain colored t-shirt with sweatpants on. Bob had only ever seen you in your professional attire. This was a stark difference that Bob clearly liked better. He was sitting on his bed cross legged with a sweater on and sweats. A smile twitched at the corner of your lips at the sight. Bob noticed. He noticed everything about you. “Alpine missed you.” Bob looked down at the black cat swirling around your ankles that then jumped up onto Bob’s bed. He rubbed against Bob’s chest then laid down in his lap.

“What’s your comfort meal?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe. You wanted to be able to walk in with the same freedom as Alpine, but crawling onto Bob’s bed felt more invasive for you than for the cat. “Comfort meal?” Bob questioned looking up from Alpine. His eyebrows knitted together. “You know, a meal that makes you feel all nice and warm?” Bob hummed in response. Dinners didn’t exactly bring him comfort as a child. As a result, Bob didn’t exactly eat for comfort, but more for survival. “I don’t know, maybe, um, chicken noodle soup?”

“Chicken noodle soup,” you thought of the ingredients in the kitchen. “I can do that.” You turned off of the door frame and disappeared from Bob’s sight causing Alpine to follow suit. “Come on, Bob, I need company while I cook.” He scampered off of the bed nearly falling while following after.

He sat at the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen. The television buzzing had turned out to be a marathon of romcoms. He hadn’t expected that from you, but he wasn’t necessarily surprised. You moved calmly through the kitchen, cleaning and putting away things as you go. You moved with such surety that it comforted Bob. He hadn’t brought anything to the counter to accompany him and occupy his mind. The only thing occupying his mind, was you. “So, Bob, our itinerary for tomorrow,” Bob’s eyebrows knitted together again. “I don’t know if you knew this about me, but I am like a flower.” Delicate and beautiful? Bob thought. “If I don’t see the sun, I will wither away. So, I was thinking we could go for a walk and go sit out in the park? Early in the morning preferably.” You looked up as the pot came to a simmer. Bob’s eyebrows slowly unknitted and he eased into a smile. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds really nice.” You could see his shoulders ease. He would have gone anywhere with you.

Bob officially understood what a comfort meal was while sitting with you on the couch with a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup. The rest of the team weren’t the best in the kitchen. With them constantly on the move, most things they made were meant to be on the go, something quick and easy preferably. “Do you always make dinner like this?” He asked, stretching his legs out on the couch. His chest felt warm, just like you had said. “I do. It’s a part of my routine, like a form of self care. Something homemade and warm.” Bob nodded in response. You stretched out your legs as you put your bowl on the end table. Your foot brushed against Bob’s outstretched legs. A shiver ran up Bob’s back. He worried what would happen even with his powers under control and both of you having a layer of clothing separating you two. He missed physical touch. Something must have crossed his face as he looked from your foot to your face. “I’m not afraid, Bobby.” You said lightly as your climbed off of the couch, taking your bowl with you to wash. If there was anyone in the world that he didn’t want to fear him, it was you. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

You appeared back into living room. Bob’s head stayed focused forward still dazed. You ruffled his hair while standing behind him on the couch. His brown locks were soft in your hands. “Have a good night, Bobby, if you need anything at all, let me know.” He looked up to you and nodded quickly. There were tears in his eyes as his Adam’s apple bobbed quickly in an effort for the tears to not fall. You smiled sweetly down to him before walking to your room. Bob sat there for another minute holding his breath till he heard your shower running. He blinked quickly and wiped away any remnants of tears. The warmth in his chest had boiled outwards to the rest of his body. Fear crossed his mind, that this could be one of his highs. He hadn’t ever felt this kind of warmth that wrapped around him. He climbed off of the couch, washed his dishes, and went to bed himself with Alpine curled up against his legs.

The next morning, Bob woke up to you opening his currents gently. He could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen drifting through his bedroom door. He stirred awake, sitting up on his elbows in bed. It was only then that you realized he was not wearing a shirt. His chest was so light and toned. His hair was wild and he looked so peaceful. You lost just about every word you could have possibly said. He filled in the silence, “Did you sleep well?” He rubbed his eyes as he sat up. “I did. You didn’t need me last night, did you?” Need you? No. Wanted you? Absolutely. Bob though, but instead he opted to say, “No, I went to sleep not long after you.” He pulled a sweater over his head and climbed out of bed. “Come on, breakfast, walk, park.” You said as you lead him to the kitchen.

Bob was greeted by pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs just how he liked them. “How did you know?” He asked as he sat down with his plate. “I’m observant.” You shrugged, not looking up from your plate. He noticed that unlike his other housemates, you did not fuel yourself with a straight black coffee. “No coffee?” He asked, sipping his orange juice. “No, I try to.... stay away from caffeine. It, um, makes me anxious.” Once again, your eyes didn’t meet his. This routine, it all helped you, so you hoped it could help Bob too. You both ate your breakfast quietly before splitting up to get ready for the day.

You guided Bob down the street. He wasn’t used to this. He preferred to stay inside where he would have less interactions with others, less chances of inconveniencing others. He enjoyed the feeling of sunshine on his face. After making it to the park, you laid out a blanket on the ground. You had come prepared with books for you and Bob. Instead, Bob laid on his back with his face towards the sun. There was a light breeze moving his waves to tap against his face. His breathing had slowed and the warmth was back. It spread all over his body. He opened his eyes to see you watching him, your book being lost in your lap. “I love to see you like this.” You smiled at him. It was earnest and real, he could hear it in your voice. There was a soft glow on your skin. He wondered if you felt the same warmth all over. You laid down next to him. Your pinkies brushed together, which lead you to link your pinky with his. A testament to your words last night. You weren’t afraid of him and he could tell. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

On the walk back home, you held onto Bob’s hand. You initially grabbed it so loosely, in case he wanted to pull away. Bob, who was in such desperate need for more and more of your touch, grabbed back with much more ferocity. The walk back was silent, but so much had been said. You could most certainly check off that last box on your to do list and you hoped that you could keep checking it off for days to come, never as an inconvenience, but as a privilege.

[pseudowho]

"Oh, fuck-- Kento, stopstopstop-- go back--"

Kento grimaced, almost comedically, as you tried to push him back out through the coffee shop doorway, and into the freezing rain. The bell above you dinged, and dinged, and dingalingdingdinged as the two of you battled, and the door danced back and forth against it.

Kento wouldn't leave the promise of fresh bread without a fight.

"-- if they haven't got the casse croute left, I'll be perfectly happy with something else-" (he wouldn't) "--and I can come back later to grab one for lunch tomorrow--" (he couldn't) "--and I'd just prefer to get out of the rain--" (please)

"No," you hissed, urging, "no, it's not that, it's--"

Kento blinked, one long, slow blink, over your shoulder. He clocked a man-- a familiar man, one whose photos he had once seen you tear to shreds-- who was sat at a window table already. Ah. He understood.

"Don't worry," Kento murmured, slipping a discrete, strong hand around your waist to press you through the doorway, as you looked up at him in anguish, "he won't bother us. But if he does--" (no, Kento-- you shouldn't--")

By the time the inevitable occurred, and your ex approached to wipe the smile off your face, Kento had already calculated the sum of the man, and found he came up short.

Kento watched you from over the rim of his cup, concealing a smirk in foam as you cold-shouldered your ex with such exquisite vindictiveness that he felt himself twitch against his thigh. Kento pinched your thigh, softly, as you stalked past him to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Your ex chewed on something Kento only hoped was gum, and sat on your chair (have to dry-clean her coat for her, shit) and regarded Kento's beige suit with a shit-eating grin. He held out his hand, which Kento shook, despite its filthy nails (ugh).

"New guy, are you?" Said your ex, kissing his teeth with a glint in his eye, "How do you like my sloppy seconds?"

Kento smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, "I find flowers stay fresh and thriving in new soil, actually. And anyway, things were rather fresh after the first, ah...four inches, was it?"

Your ex balked, and recoiled. As he leaned back against his chair, his face turned puce, and he opened his mouth to make a scene, which we can't have, Kento, oh no, so--

"I advise you move forwards again-- just a little more-- there. Perfect."

Your ex, stunned, had followed Kento's mellow instruction without questioning, and shuffled back forwards into the fresh sunlight. Kento smiled again.

"There we go. Things don't grow in the shade. Would you like the lamp on? I can reach it for you."

Your ex scoffed now, and scoffed some incoherent curses, and scoffed himself into standing and tripping over the leg of his chair. You arrived back from the bathroom, and regarded your soiled chair with disgust.

"--you can keep her--" Your ex spat, jostling his pockets for his car keys, "--of all the cheek-- I'm leaving--"

"In that?" Kento regarded a car outside the coffee shop, as its one working indicator flashed to life, "I didn't bring my jump cables. Will you be alright?"

You choked into your latte, clattering it down onto the table to turn away and cough into your sleeve. Your ex looked as though he may hit Kento (he can try), but remembered himself, and went to move to the cashier.

Kento piped up one last time, barely audible above the coffee shop din.

"I wouldn't worry. I paid your bill, when we arrived. Buy yourself something...nice."

Your ex scarpered, bursting out of the door like a cat out of its cage. You took a bite of cake through teary-eyed, muffled laughter. Kento smiled over at you, leaning on one hand to admire your blossoms and life.

"You're such a bitch, Kento, I knew I shouldn't have left you alone with him--"

(you're right; you shouldn't have)

[shawtuzi]

request: ‘Can you please write a Toji x (blk)fem reader smut but she like one of those earthy girls with all the waist chains/beads and he like obsessed with her style and all the jewelry she wears. boho/earthy girls don’t get enough love.’

i hear you anon and i see you so here you go <333

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ cw include: drug usage (weed), oral m receiving, unprotected sex, riding, slight pussyjob, toji likes her sm so a lot of praise, PUSSYDRUNK TOJI!!!, sex outdoors (no one can see them hehe), creampie, an ‘i like you’ confession bc i’ve been watching a lot of rom coms lately///not proofread sorry :(

‘it’s a lot of lust not a lot of love’

you hummed along to the song as you made out with toji, your tongue swirling against his. your bracelets jangled against your wrist as you tugged on his soft locs, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you did so. “slow down toji, s’no rush,” you mumbled against his lips, teeth biting down the tiniest bit on his bottom lip.

toji tried to distract himself by toying with your waist beads, but it just wasn’t working. between the two blunts you both shared, along with a couple sips of wine—courtesy of you, there was just no way you expected him to be in his right mind enough for him to go slow. “i don’t want to go slow though,” he groaned, grabbing a handful of your ass over your skirt.

you kissed your teeth, now pulling away from the pouting man. you pushed him down against the blanket you had crocheted yourself, your hands now resting on his pecs. “you’re so impatient you know that? need my pussy that bad hm?” you giggled cocking your head to the side. toji gulped, his eyes finding it hard to stay locked on yours. eye contact with you was always so intense.

“yes….yes i am impatient and yes i need your pussy that bad.”

you smiled at his words, now leaning down to give him a slow kiss. you kissed your way down his jaw, to his neck, and finally down his chest. “damn….you got this worked up over a little kissing?” you teased, cupping toji over his jeans, earning a deep groan from him. toji didn’t respond, instead he just gave you the finger, too fucked out already to even come up with a proper comeback.

toji hissed when he felt you finally undo the button to his jeans, his leaking dick now free from its confinements. “go slow m’feelin’ a little sensitive,” toji grumbled and all you did was laugh, taking his throbbing dick in your hands. you gave the tip a soft squeeze, licking your lips. “now you wanna go slow? that’s funny,” you snickered, bringing his dick to your mouth, suckling the tip softly.

you ran your tip along the underside of his dick, fighting the urge to laugh again when you felt toji buck his hips up. toji wanted so badly to just push your head down, but you had just gotten your hair done a few days prior and he’d hate to cause you any discomfort. it was your first time getting passion twists and he was absolutely enamored with the way you looked with them.

“deeper—please go deeper y/n,” toji finally lifted his head up, now making eye contact with you but he reallyyyyy wishes he hadn’t. the way you were looking at him with those low, red eyes; eyelashes fluttering shut each time you took more of him in your mouth had him wanting to bust right then and there. toji felt his face flush, cheeks burning hot at the way you looked at him like he was the most precious thing to ever grace this earth—which in his opinion he wasn’t, far from it honestly.

toji’s eyes rolled back when he felt his dick hit the back of your right throat. “mmph fuck yeah—that’s that shit,” he groaned, bringing his hand to rest on the crown of your head. he didn’t grip it or apply any pressure, he just sat there and let you do what do best—suck the soul outta him.

the wind began to pick up, giving toji’s flaming cheeks a nice breeze to cool off. you made him so…so…beside himself. i mean for god sakes you had him fucking in the middle of a field of flowers, blazed out of his mind—it’s safe to say the grip you had on him was the most annoying shit ever.

“keep sucking me like that baby, f-fuck, take it deeper. be a good girl and take it deeper f’me,” you listened without protest, taking the last few inches of him in your mouth. toji was beyond fucked out, praises flying past his lips left n right and it only egged you on to turn him into even bigger pile of mush than he already was.

you pulled off of his dick with lewd pop! now paying attention to his swollen balls. toji’s body jerked, his heavy hand gripping onto your shoulder. “w—hah! w-wait y/n,” toji hissed, his jaw clenching impossibly tight. you lifted your head up, puffing air through your cheeks.

“i’m sorry i—”

“just shush toji.”

you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand before crawling up toji’s body, your lower half hovering over his twitching dick. you pushed toji down gently by his shoulders, humming to yourself at just how damn good he looked beneath you.

“you’re fuckin’ unreal,” toji sounded damn near breathless as he said it, his chest puffing up with each deep breath. his hand reached up to tug down your olive green, cropped tube top; his rough hands immediately latching onto your breasts.

“you really mean that or you jus’ fucked up?” you knew he meant it with all his heart, you just wanted to hear him say it. you blindly reached for the end of your skirt, tugging the soft material up your thighs. just as you pressed your panty clad pussy against toji’s dick he whispered the three words ‘i mean it’ in your ear, his teeth nibbling at your lobe.

the words ‘i like you’ were sitting so heavy on his tongue but he just couldn’t find the courage to tell you how he felt.

toji—a grown ass thirty four year old man who’s literally served time in the slammer was scared to tell you, a twenty something year old woman who was the literal embodiment of a fawn how he felt about you. what a joke.

“what are you thinking about?” you spoke softly, running your thumb over the stubble on toji’s jaw. toji shook his head, bringing his rough hands to your petal soft love handles.

“s’nothin.”

“liar.”

“i said it’s nothing.”

your breath hitched, mouth dropping open slightly at the feeling of toji’s dick pressed against your bare pussy. he felt so hot and soft against you and toji could certainly say the same thing about you. with one harsh tug toji ripped your thong off, tossing the semi soaked material to the side. you rlly should’ve known better with that one—toji hates whenever things are in his way.

“you’re such a liar toji,” your laugh was breathless as you began to slowly grind your pussy against toji’s dick. he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, his brows furrowing in annoyance but mostly pleasure. he was already so close it was so fucking embarrassing. pre dripped from his throbbing tip and onto his clenching abs, creating an even bigger mess between the two of you.

toji bucked his up, puffing air through his cheeks to silently tell you he was more than ready for you. you gave him a small smile, your tooth gems glistening in the afternoon sun. “can i confess something toji?” you asked, lifting yourself up to balance your weight on your feet. you grabbed toji’s dick, swiping his tip between your folds before slowly inserting it.

you both gasped in unison, toji’s eyes fluttering shut at the warmth that enveloped his cock. “w-what do you need to confess you fu—hucking brat,” he growled, his fingernails digging in the soft flesh of your thighs. in one swift movement you sat all the down, toji’s balls now pressed snugly against your backside.

“i really, really like hanging out with you toji,” your voice was a little high pitched, rightfully so because you practically feel the trembling man below you in your stomach. you pressed your hands against toji’s chest, bouncing on his dick like your life depended on it.

you brushed a stray hair out of toji’s face, cradling his jaw in your palm that still smelled of the shea butter you applied before your outing. “you like hanging out with me too toji? you like me?” your tone was coming off a tad desperate but you could’ve cared less. toji’s adam’s apple bobbed, a pathetic whine bubbling in his throat.

“yes.”

“yes what?”

toji wrapped his arms around your waist, his feet planting into the ground before fucking up into you. “yes i fucking l-like you y/n, could you not—shit! fucking tell? jesus christ your pussy is so good,” toji couldn’t help the drool that slipped past his lips, it was impossible to keep his mouth shut at this point. your hands found themselves in toji’s hair, tugging roughly at the soft strands.

“i knew you did i just wanted to hear you say it. i like you too toji.”

i like you too toji.

toji halted his movements, his dick now in you to the hilt. you suddenly felt a warm sensation in your lower half and knew immediately that toji was in the process of cumming. you circled your hips as best as you could, milking him for all he was worth.

“hah f-fucking shit i can’t stop fucking cumminggg,” he groaned, burying his face in your sweet smelling neck; the scent of vanilla and caramel had him feeling more dizzy than he already was.

after giving toji a few minutes to catch his breath you sat up, his dick still sheathed inside of you. “look how messy,” you spread your lips, giving toji a mouthwatering view of your overly stuffed pussy. toji licked his lips, reaching over to down the rest of the wine that was in your abandoned glass.

“lemme clean you up.”

[freyito]

ʙᴀʟᴅᴇʀꜝ ⨟ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti, mr. reca, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you notice the little things they do for you/around you.

✧ a/n: a little something ive been thinkin about U_U and something to tide my followers over while i work on strawberry season! (and unfortunately fall victim to The Inspiration and The Motivation.)

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, short n sweet, old man welt. actual old man welt, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.4k

⎯ Aventurine

One of AVENTURINE’s habits at the table is holding onto your hand, or even just linking your pinkies. It’s his way of waning himself off of clutching his chips behind his back. You’re his good luck charm, of course. It’s not just at the table or machines, though. He does this at the arcade, as well. He’ll make you stand close by, even wrap your arms around his arm as he messes with the claw machine. He swears up and down that you really are his lucky charm. If you step away, he does his very best to fail miserably. Unfortunately, he’s still somehow able to get some plushies. But he won’t let that ruin the magic.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

RATIO, while he doesn’t seem the sentimental type, really likes to take some of your jewelry with him to work. He prefers necklaces most of all, something easy to tuck in if students dare to ask about it. He loves to keep some part of you close, especially when he’s away. He won’t outright say why he likes it, but it’s something along the lines of keeping you very close to his heart. He asks politely, although a little sheepishly. He’ll lie for his pride, saying it’s simply something nice to hold on to. It’s odd, really, he’s not so shy with his declarations of love, but something so little has him pretending that he’s too shy to say it.

⎯ Boothill

There’s a lot BOOTHILL does. Too many to count. One thing he really seems to enjoy is triggering his censor on purpose. Before he had gotten serious about making you his partner, he’d get annoyed when you’d snicker and chuckle at his censor. He’d pitch a fit, huff and puff and curse you out even more. But it’s that same snicker that made him fall in love; at least, that’s what he believes. He was head over heels the minute he met you. But that's besides the point. After all he’s seen, the blood on his hands, and much more, he’s realized he’d do anything for that laugh. So he “swears” as much as he can around you, his Synthesia Beacon somehow slipping in new words. Where the hell did ‘banana’ come from…?

⎯ Gallagher

One of GALLAGHER’s favorite things to do when he gets home is cuddle. He’s busy as is, and some time to decompress with his lover always sounds like heaven. Oftentimes, he’ll drag you to the bed or the couch, even when you’re in the middle of something. He loves to bury his face into your shoulder. And moreso, he loves the way you giggle when his stubble tickles your neck. When you squirm and try to break free, he only tightens his hold, pulling you up against his chest as you laugh and swat at him, telling him to stop. He doesn’t. He’ll poke at your sides and squeeze at your hips as well, anything to keep you laughing.

⎯ Sunday

SUNDAY is so sickeningly sweet when it comes to you. His affections aren’t subtle, bringing you a bouquet of flowers when you’re at work, taking you out on fancy dates, and so much more. He is a textbook romantic. No act of love is little from him, he makes sure not to skip out. He wants you to know just how much he loves you, grand gesture or not. However, one thing you have noticed is the way his wings flutter just a little when he sees you, or hears you. A light blush always dusts his cheeks, followed by a smile and a tilt of his head. When you visit him while he’s working, his wings flutter just a little bit longer. You aren’t sure if he is aware of this, but you don’t want him to stop, so you decide to keep it a secret.

⎯ Argenti

Oh, ARGENTI, sweet Argenti. He’s so… princely, when it comes to you. Such a gentleman, really. He follows the sidewalk rule almost religiously, places his hand on the small of your back when the two of you are walking, grabs your hand so tenderly and kneels in front of you to kiss it, everything and anything that can come out of a fairy tale. One of his favorite things to do, however, is letting you do his hair. While he quite likes letting his long hair down, he loves nothing more than your hands running through it. He allows everything short of cutting it. In fact, he loves it so much, he practically runs to you before he trains, so you can put his hair up in a ponytail. If you want to braid it, however, he won’t mind. As long as you don’t yank his hair.

⎯ Mr. Reca

MR. RECA is all for the theatrics, on and off the set. Sometimes, it feels like he can’t turn off his whole director persona, even with you. Not that you mind. While he’s packed full of movie and media references, some that barely make him sound coherent, there are moments where he’s a completely Normal Guy with you. Sometimes it makes you think he’s lost his mind. However, one of your favorite things that prove he wasn’t abducted is when he acts like your life is a movie. He’ll bring his hands up and frame your face with his fingers, ramble on about how the main actor is just ‘too perfect for this role’, and how you're ‘born for the screen, born for my heart!’. He’ll add some sort of dramatic flare, clutching his chest or pretending he’ll pass out. While Memokeeper’s are quite odd, you don’t think you’d give up this one for the world.

⎯Sampo Koski

Whatever you need, SAMPO has. He even established this before the start of the relationship. He’s like… a penguin. While him showering you in luxurious gifts is not uncommon, it’s truly the smaller ones that count. Random trinkets he found somewhere, most were a little dusty and dirty, but ones that had provoked the thought of you, making them so meaningful. He presents all sorts of things to you, really. Rings he just ‘happened’ to find, necklaces and bracelets too, gears that were in such very oddly pristine condition, and his favorite: shells and rocks. He really does live up to the actions of a penguin, finding the prettiest rocks he can to give to his lover. Perhaps he is proposing…? It’s hard to say.

⎯ Jing Yuan

As the Divine Foresight, JING YUAN doesn’t get as much time as he’d like to enjoy the little things with you. A stroll once in a while is nice, or perhaps sitting down for at least ten minutes and chatting will do. He’s a simple man, and seeing your face for a fraction of a second is enough to tide him over for the next month. At least, that’s what he says. When he does get to spend time with you, he has a habit of bumping into you ‘accidentally’. He leans in close whenever you’re inspecting the fruit at the market, tends to bump into the two of you when you’re just walking, and actually prefers sitting on the same side of the table most of the time. All to enjoy those brief moments of contact. You’ve told him countless times that he could just ask to hold your hand, and he does, but somehow he always finds a way to come impossibly closer…

⎯ Blade

There’s not much BLADE does that isn’t small. He’s not necessarily vocal about his love for you (however he does love you, very much), nor is he good at expressing it. You’ve learned to translate the little things into big things, even something as simple as an ‘i thought of you’ when he comes back from a mission is a big deal. There’s one thing you’ve noticed that you’ve gotten to hold over the other Stellaron Hunters, though. He hates shopping, unless it’s with you. With Kafka and Firefly, he groans and acts uninterested most of the time, but with you, he’s quiet. Perfectly content to hold your bags, no matter how much things you have bought. No complaining, not even a grimace. Don’t point it out though. He’ll start pitching a fit if you so much as suggest that he loves you. (He does. But it’s hard to say or express for a man like him.)

⎯ Luocha

LUOCHA’s good with physical contact. With his profession and secrecy, sometimes it’s hard for you to remember that. He’s often gone for so long, doing Aeons knows what, that you tend to miss him, and especially his physical affections. Somehow, he’s also terrifyingly good at coming back just when you start to miss him too much. By then, you are craving a warm hug from him by the very least. But he always does more. He treats you, a nice date, either a day out or a day inside, before he’s off again. Somehow, his hands always find your hair, playing with it absentmindedly. You could be on the verge of sleep, and here he is, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers idly. Running his fingers through it, scratching your scalp, the list goes on. You start to wonder if it’s you he missed, or your hair.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

Now, JIAOQIU doesn’t like feeling helpless. Just because he’s blind doesn’t mean anything, he’s still a great healer, and an even better cook. Before he lost his sight, he’d cook terrifyingly grand meals for you, practically a whole feast for twelve. And if you can’t handle spice? You’re the only one he would turn down the heat for. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t let you off the hook. No, he chose to build your spice tolerance, instead. Adding more and more to each meal, even if you struggled with it. Now, without his sight, he’s only a little more hesitant to cook. He’s gotten all sorts of aids that help, of course. But knives are still knives, and he can be as careful as he wants, but they’ve somehow made him just a little antsy. So, he likes to guide you through chopping vegetables and the like. It doesn’t matter if you can do it by yourself, he likes to stand behind you as he ‘guides’ your wrists, smiling and snickering all the while.

⎯ Moze

It comes to no surprise that what MOZE enjoys best is cleaning. With you, he’s amped it up a little. When he can, he likes to do all the chores he possibly can before you get home. It’s something you’re used to, but even if you tell him you’d like to have a few to do, he acts like he takes it to mind. Really, he’s just telling himself he’ll have to do more. Days off aren’t exactly existent for him, but if he’s not keeping his hands busy, he gets anxious. So he’s resorted to making your life easier, sweeping the house, cleaning the dishes, doing laundry, and much more. You can’t argue, because who wants to do chores, anyways?

⎯ Dan Heng

While DAN HENG can be quite romantic, that doesn’t stop him from being what he is, an introvert. Some of his best days are spent holed up in his room on the Express, kicking back and ignoring what he can, unless it’s urgent. A nice quiet day and some tea are his true peace. And you, of course. He likes spending those quiet moments with you, especially when the two of you are just… doing your own thing. He could be reading, and you could be playing a game on your phone or watching something right next to him. He has no qualms if you aren’t doing something together, as long as you’re right next to him. ‘Parallel play’, he’s heard March call it. It fits, truly.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD is truly a gentleman. He almost fits the Golden Retriever standard to a T. Kind and gentle, protective yet oh so sweet, almost knightly. While his work hours hold him hostage most of the time, he cherishes the time he gets to spend with you. Even when he’s tired and worn out, he simply can’t say no to a date. He’s the definition of royalty treatment. Holding your jacket, helping you zip up your clothes when need be, following the sidewalk rule, switching out your shoes if they’re uncomfortable, opening doors, and making sure your chair is pulled out before he sits down. No gesture of love is too small for him, or at least, he makes sure the small ones culminate into something bigger.

⎯ Caelus

To be honest, you still really can’t get CAELUS, even as his partner. He’s a bit quirky, maybe a tad too adventurous (stay out of those trash cans, you beg of him. But he does not listen), and perhaps way too into it for the bit. But that doesn’t mean you don’t love him. He’s silly and goofy and quite profound when he’s in the mood, although with his own sort of charm. Massive bouquets, massive credit bouquets, oddly cliche dates, and the like. But his most defining moments are the smaller, almost mundane ones. Sitting in the parlor car, laying on his belly and kicking his feet while you go through his nail polish collection, picking out what colors you want him to wear. He’s oddly… sparkly, grinning ear to ear as he holds his fingers out, waiting oh so patiently for you to color them. Paint his nails like one of your french girls… or something.

⎯ Welt

Unfortunately, while WELT is sweet, his habits can be a little bit annoying. For the first month or so when you started sleeping in his bed, his snoring almost drove you crazy. Perhaps you should’ve expected this for a man his age, but at the same time you can’t help but scold him in your mind. Fortunately, it is something that you get used to, and even see as white noise. You could complain all you want, and he’d apologize profusely, figure out any sort of way to at the very least quiet himself during the night, and then apologize some more. Not only does he snore, but he moves a lot in his sleep. He likes to fall asleep holding you… however throughout the night, he gets too hot, which means he pulls away, then it’s too cold, so he’s rolling back over to you, then he can’t quite find a comfortable way to sleep… it’s never ending. And charming, kind of.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server (16+) | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

What if Steve is a famous model and Eddie is a rockstar, both still pretty down to earth that they move around without bodyguards...

They bump into each other at a corner, and literally bump into each other - Steve somehow lost his contact lenses and he's half-blind without them, his agent Robin is traveling, he'd rather lose both of his eyes than to call his parents, and so he's trying to get to a pharmacy/optometrist/somewhere else just based on memory and touch.

Eddie is walking, not paying much attention and listening to music, when he's knocked back by a very apologetic squinting guy who might as well be very pretty, if he looked straight at Eddie - which is very much not possible, as Steve later explains, Eddie is a very blurry blob to him, although a very kind blob. Also a really nice sounding blob.

When Eddie collects his things and his heart off the streetwalk, he offers to walk Steve to the pharmacy. After asking if it's okay, he offers Steve his arm and leads him carefully to his destination. Steve is still mostly staring at the ground, trying to fight blurry nausea, so Eddie doesn't really know what he looks like, except that his hair is magnificent.

They reach the pharmacy, Steve is so thankful that he wants to invite Eddie for coffee, but before he can do that, Eddie receives an urgent call from his agent and needs to leave.

They both - not without a tinge sadness - think they won't see each other again.

Except the next day there's a wave of tabloid headlines: "CORRODED COFFIN'S EDDIE MUNSON FINALLY SETTLES DOWN?! THE ROCKSTAR SEEN WITH REDKEN'S MODEL STEVE HARRINGTON!" and there are pictures of Steve and Eddie, side by side, and it really looks like a romantic walk rather than what it was.

When Eddie's agent Chrissy calls, half-amused, half-concerned, Eddie stops her with a single sentence: "Can you get me his number?!"

Chrissy snorts in the phone. "Give me an hour."

It takes her 33 minutes in total, and she secures a date with Robin for herself as a bonus.

And as for Eddie? He opens his message with "Hey Steve, how come you never told me it was a date? I would have brought flowers!" and gets an immediate response of "You would have, huh? Then bring some today at seven, the pizzeria next to the pharmacy. I like sunflowers. See you there, Eddie. And this time, I mean really see you."

The "see you" jokes stay with them for the rest of their lives.

[riricatria]

Hello, hello, first post!

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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

Disclaimers can be found in my pinned post.

S-FW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NS-FW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Period sex

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

Mydei is a warrior through and through. The fascination with grotesque things comes with that, you think. Of course he knows that you have periods, you’re a woman, he’s not stupid nor uneducated, but when the time of the month comes rolling around, he realizes that huh, maybe there might be another aspect to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Predator/prey

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you start hearing the noise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Size and strength kink

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

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

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

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

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

Bath sex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ceramini]

loser! jake BUT readers all of a sudden nice to him and jake is confused (and turned on ofc) maybe special occasion or smthn.surprise ne queen !!

⁺𝅄 𓊆 ❀ 𓊇 just so u guys know.. this will be my last jake fic/drabble before I retire him :(( i write for all of the members and I didn’t think people would request or even like my loser!jake stuff this much, so he WILL make a retrurn on my blog, I just want to share my work for other enha members as well <33 pls understand

pair loser!jake x hot!reader ͡ ͘◡ ꫶᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜৯ tags reverse cowgirl, cockwarming ✿ scene jake forgot their third anniversary, again. He’s bracing for punishment, but instead, you’re suddenly super nice to him. Like, really nice. Confused, flustered, and lowkey turned on, Jake starts to wonder: is this mercy… or a horrible horrible setup? ────── library ⊹ ࣪ click to join taglist

like + reblog appreciated <3

Jake wakes up to the smell of bacon.

Which is weird, because he’s the one who usually forgets the pan and sets off the smoke alarm, and you usually sleep in on Sundays like it’s a constitutional right.

He blinks, dazed and warm and puffy-eyed, as your voice floats into the bedroom.

“Jakey,” you call softly. “Wake up baby. I made you breakfast.”

Jake sits up slowly. His hair’s a mess. His eyes are crusty. He’s half-hard under the blanket because of a dream he already forgot, and his first thought is:

Are you possessed?

“Baby?” you peek your head in, grinning.

Jake squints. “Wait. Did I die?”

You giggle. “No, dummy.”

“Did you die?”

“No.”

“Then why are you—” he looks down at the tray you’re carrying, eyes wide, “—bringing me pancakes?”

You sit beside him on the bed and brush a kiss to his cheek. “Because I love you.”

Jake flinches like you slapped him.

“You do?” he says, eyes watery.

You roll your eyes fondly. “Obviously.”

He leans against you, still confused but clinging like a koala.

Jake is an affectionate idiot, he clings without realizing, kisses without thinking, forgets his keys in your purse because “you’re the safe place.” But today, something about you is different.

You’re not just being kind, you’re being intentional.

You kiss him before he leaves the house.

You help him find his shoes even though they’re right where he always leaves them.

You pack his lunch. Write a little note.

And when he comes home after hanging with Sunghoon, there’s candles on the table.

Candles.

Jake stops in the doorway, staring.

“…Are we summoning something?”

You turn, wearing that adorable outfit, the one he kept staring at the day you tried it on in the store, too stunned to speak, until you went “should I not get it?” and he panic-yelled “NO GET IT GET IT.”

You wore it.

For him.

Jake gulps.

“Did I do something right?” he asks. “Or did I do something wrong and this is the part before you kill me?”

You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist, laying your cheek against his chest. “You did everything right.”

Jake stands frozen. His whole body is stiff, except for one very obvious part.

You notice.

Of course you do.

You giggle. “You’re so easy.”

Jake whines. “You’re being so nice to me. It’s turning me on. That feels unethical.”

Dinner is perfect.

You give him his favorite part of the steak.

You laugh at every one of his terrible jokes.

You even rub his knee under the table like you want him.

Jake’s not used to being the pretty one in the relationship. You’re hot. So hot. It makes no sense to anyone that you date a guy who once cried during an animal shelter ad and accidentally set his microwave on fire trying to make instant ramen.

And yet.

You treat him like he’s the prize.

Jake wants to cry.

And then…

You give him a gift.

Wrapped. Bow and all.

Jake tears it open, confused, and finds:

A framed photo of you two, from your beach trip where Jake got sunburned and you made fun of his farmer’s tan.

A pressed flower from the first bouquet he gave you. He thought you threw it out.

A tiny hand-written book titled: “101 Reasons Why I’m Glad You’re Mine”

Jake blinks down at the cover.

“I—I don’t—” he stammers.

And then, finally, his eyes flick to the calendar on the wall.

The date glows like a punch to the gut.

Anniversary. Three years.

Jake forgot.

You didn’t.

“Jake,” you say softly, sitting beside him on the bed. “You okay?”

He looks like you kicked his puppy.

“I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

“No you’re not.”

“I am. You did all this. And I didn’t even get you, like— like a card. Or a rock I found outside. Or a dumb doodle or a weird TikTok link or, anything.”

You rest your hand on his.

Jake’s bottom lip wobbles. He sniffles.

“It’s okay,” you say gently. “You always forget dates. I kind of expected it.”

That only makes it worse.

“You knew I’d forget?” he says, heartbroken.

You give a small, sad smile. “It’s not about remembering. It’s about trying.”

Jake stares at you.

And then, without a word, he kneels.

He presses kisses to your thigh. Your knee. Your hip.

Your stomach.

“Let me make it up to you,” he murmurs. “Please.”

He worships you.

That’s the only word for it.

Jake moves with reverence. He kisses you like he’s trying to apologize with his mouth, long, wet kisses that leave you gasping.

When you slide his shirt off, he fumbles a little with yours.

“Can I see you?” he whispers. “Please?”

You nod.

Jake groans the second your top’s off. His hands are greedy, trembling, desperate. But still gentle.

He takes his time.

So much time.

“Turn around?” you ask softly, cheeks warm. “I wanna ride you. That way.”

Jake’s brain short-circuits.

“Reverse— um what is it— um?”

“Reverse cowgirl?.”

Jake whines, already tugging his pants off. “I don’t even know if my heart can take that.”

You straddle him, slow and teasing.

And when you sink down, his hands fly to your hips.

Then hesitate.

Then slowly, tentatively, cup your ass.

“Can I?” he whispers, voice wrecked.

You nod.

Jake lets out the dirtiest moan you’ve ever heard.

“Your ass is insane,” he babbles. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna die. This is my punishment. You’re punishing me.”

He doesn’t even thrust.

He just holds you there, buried inside, cock so deep and warm that it feels like you’re melting together.

“P—please,” he breathes. “You’re so warm— n’so pretty. Like a goddess. Like an avenging angel with the softest—oh my god—you clenched.”

You giggle.

“I’m sorry,” he moans. “I know I forgot. I know I don’t deserve this. But I love you. I love you so much I feel it in my spine.”

You lean back slightly, rocking your hips once.

Jake chokes.

“I’ll never forget again,” he gasps. “Swear to god. I’ll tattoo it. I’ll set calendar alerts. I’ll carve it into my desk.”

You bounce once.

Jake screams.

You’re both laughing by the time he flips you over and kisses you breathless, trying to say everything with his hands and his mouth and his body that he forgot to say with words.

And after, when he’s soft inside you, buried to the hilt, and you’re both tangled and warm and sticky, Jake whispers:

“Next year I’m doing the most. Be ready.”

You hum, nuzzling into his chest. “Can’t wait.”

🪷 ─── @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto (join the taglist guys..)