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misseviehyde · 3 months

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SIX

SIX MINUTES

It's been six minutes since I drank the Elixir. Six minutes since the delicious pink liquid flowed down my throat and I felt my body begin to change into a better one.

How can I describe the transformation?

Well - it feels strange to feel your bones shift and pop inside your body as your skin tightens and your genitalia shrink to nothing. Even the lengthened hair on my head and the longer feminine nails I now have on my tiny hands feel strange. My cute hairless body is smoother, softer and far more appealing than it used to be. I'm a girl now.

No... not just a girl... a pretty girl. True I'm still wearing my blue hoodie and I don't have any make up on, but even in these clothes, I look beautiful. I can feel the jealous stares of my mates.

True I gave them a bit of a show a moment ago as I lost control of myself whilst I changed. My friends had to watch in shocked fascination as I touched my body and moaned in pleasure. They could never understand how fucking good it felt to have tits growing on my chest and a pussy opening between my legs.

I wasn't embarassed about moaning like a slut - in fact I'm still not embarassed now. I've never felt more confident - the Elixir has made me feel so good. I can't believe I'm no longer a boy - but it's like I don't even care.

The others were all too chicken shit to try it. We found the instructions in an old book at my friend Daniel's house. His girlfriend was out - and me and the other lads were round for a curry, so we cooked up the Elixir and I agreed to try it.

With amazing success.

Acording to the book the transformation lasts just over six hours. I better not waste anytime then...

SIX HOURS

It's amazing how much more feminine wearing the right clothes and doing my hair and makeup, make me look and feel now I'm a girl.

Due to my lack of experience - I just decided to tie my hair up, put on a tiny bit of mascara and lipstick and wear something feminine - but kinda simple. When I learn more about being a girl, I can start to really have fun - but right now it's baby steps.

Daniel's girlfriend was luckily about the same size as I was... petite and a 34D bra size and I was able to help myself to things from her room to complete my new look. I'll have to get my own things eventually, but for now I'll steal what I can from her.

Daniel is still here, but the other guys went home, I think probably to jerk off thinking about turning into a hot girl themselves. They promised not to tell anyone about our little experiment. I don't trust them of course, which is why I burned the pages of the book when no one was watching. Now the only record of how to make the Elixir exists in a password protected encrypted file I just uploaded to the cloud.

I can imagine them all cock in hand stroking it off as they imagine coming back tomorrow to make more Elixir and getting to become a hot girl. I can't wait to see their faces when they realise this power is now mine alone.

Mmmmh, all those boys jerking off. I don't blame them. Boy am I fucking horny too. Horny in a way that I've never been before. My new body has needs and Daniel is looking kinda hot to me right now.

I like the way his eyes follow me... it makes me feel powerful. I have so much control over him now I'm pretty. He's desperate to please me - even though he has a girlfriend.

I walk over to Daniel and kiss him. He is surprised at first, perhaps confused... but as he leans into my body and tastes my sweet pink lips, his inhibitions fade.

"It's not really cheating Dan," I whisper. "It's not like I'm a real girl. She'll never know. I don't have long and I just need to know what it feels like..."

His hungry hands are soon all over my body, and I have his stiffening cock in my tiny hands.

I've never held another guys cock in my hands before. Daniel's is bigger than mine... well bigger than mine when I actually have one.

It's hard and enticing, so I lick the tip and taste his precum. Then - like it's the most natural thing in the world I pop it into my mouth and begin to suck.

I never thought I'd be sucking a cock, but now I'm female it doesn't bother me like it would. I'm a little clumsy at first (guess I'll need more practice) but after a few minutes of sucking and slurping I hear Daniel cry out and he cums in my mouth.

His load is salty, not unpleasant, so I swallow it all.

I think we are finished but then he then asks me if I want him to eat me out. Turns out I do.

Soon I am lying back on his bed with his eager tongue lapping at my pink pussy. I play with my tits as he tongue fucks me and soon I am having my first female orgasm.

"Ohhhhhh fuckkkkk," I gasp in my sexy girls voice as stars swim in front of my eyes and I shake and convulse helplessly. "That's mmmmh soooo fucking good."

My horniness is abated for now - Daniel looks a little disappointed when I put my clothes back on - perhaps he was hoping I'd fuck him. He is also clearly stricken with guilt.

"Don't worry - I won't say anything to her," I giggle.

That's enough for one day. I can feel the Elixir starting to wear off. My hair is shortening and my body becoming masculine again.

It's been the best six hours of my life and I know I now need more.

SIX DAYS

It's been six days since I first took the Elixir and my journey into femininity continues to be the greatest experience of my life.

After turning back into my male self earlier this week - I was left with a feeling of emptiness, shame and fear. Male me was shocked and upset by what I'd done as a girl and worried about what I might do again.

He and Daniel could barely talk to each other. Stupid boys - what's a little dick sucking between friends? It's not like his girlfriend would ever know.

Despite his reluctance - the urge to try the Elixir again was too strong so it was only a matter of time before I drank it again and transformed into this superior version of me.

I say superior because I AM superior. As a man, I'm almost a nobody - but female me gets all the love and attention a hot pretty girl deserves. I'm smarter, more confident and less naive as a girl. I understand the way the world really works.

I had unlocked something in myself that needed time to play out. I and now I was going to have to live two lives. That would not be easy. So I invented a story.

Only my friends and Daniel knew the real story - but to everyone else I would tell a lie that my male half had been struck by a terrible illness that kept me confined to the house. My female alter-ego would masquerade as my 'sister' come home to help look after me. Luckily I live alone.

It was not a perfect cover story and there were plenty of gaps but it would hopefully allow me to keep taking the Elixir.

My male half works from home anyway, so I was able to keep earning - but for the present time I would only go out as my female half.

I took some vacation time - and this allowed me to get used to being female.

I spent six hours a day as a girl, using the Elixir to transform. Each time the change was quicker and I felt instantly more ME. It was like switching between two channels on a TV.

I decorated a room to be MY bedroom and began to immerse myself in girl culture. I had a lot of catching up to do - what I really needed was some female friends to learn from.

Daniel was shocked when I demanded he introduce me to his girlfriend. He wanted to refuse and I actually had to blackmail him into agreeing. I also gave him another blowjob... this time he came even harder.

With carrot and stick deployed, Daniel gave in and told Lucy I was his mates sister new in town and I didn't know anyone. She was only too happy to help the new girl.

Lucy and I hit it off straight away. She introduced me to her friends and soon through networking, I was one of the girls.

Six days in and I was already bossing it as a girl. I now had a room, a growing collection of clothing and makeup, a convicing cover story and best of all a group of girlfriends.

I am good at getting what I wanted from others. It makes me all tingly to think about how easily I am playing everyone.

Manipulating people is kind of fun.

SIX WEEKS

My tight black designer dress drew the stares and attention of all the men in the hotel as I walked to the counter to check out. I fucking loved the attention - I could tell they all wanted me.

Upstairs in the room Daniel was still lying on the bed, spent by our hours of lovemaking. He had fucked me like a slut and we had finished with me grinding on top of him and in control - just as I liked it.

Looking down into his eyes I had made him tell me he loved me as I slid his cock up and down into my tight pussy.

He was all mine now.

But he meant nothing to me at the same time. In fact whilst Daniel had moaned and grunted beneath my thrusting hips... his cock deep inside my pussy - I'd even had time to Whatsapp Lucy and arrange to meet her later.

It was strange to think that only six weeks ago Daniel and I had an entirely platonic relationship. Now he was having an affair with me whilst his girlfriend believed me to be her new bestie.

I knew that sooner or later the truth would probably come out - but I didn't care. Lucy was starting to bore me anyway. I'd learned all I could from her and her insipid friends.

As for Daniel. He was hopelessly addicted to me - but I had no intention of fucking him for much longer anyway. He was just a training exercise - helping me to learn how to fuck a man right. Now I knew how to use my pussy as a weapon - there were richer and hotter guys in my sights.

I wanted bigger dick. Maybe a black guy? A rich black guy who could make me his trophy slut.

It had begun to occur to me that I was not a very nice person. In fact I was actually a fucking bitch. My male half sure seemed to think so anyway. He kept leaving me tormented messages begging me to stop ruining Daniel's life, manipulating people and acquiring material possessions.

I actually got turned on listening how nasty I was and I rubbed my clit till I came.

Being evil felt so fucking hot.

In return to my alter ego, I left him messages calling him a loser and telling him if he hated me so much to stop taking the Elixir. I knew he wouldn't. He was addicted to being me. It was just too bad I didn't have a way to get rid of him. Unlike him - I'd take it.

Yes - if only there was a way I could be rid of the fucking loser and take complete control of this life. I had noticed that after six weeks of use, my transformations would now sometimes last eight to ten hours. Maybe with further use I would gain more and more time?

I just need to keep on taking the Elixir and enjoying every minute of being a hot blonde spoiled mean bitch. In fact I need to get worse.

Eventually there would only be me... my victory was inevitable.

No one is going to get in my way.

SIX MONTHS

It was a shame what happened to Daniel. I wonder if he'll ever wake up?

Hit and runs happen all the time, but they never did find the driver who left him in a coma and it seemed almost targeted.

It was about the same time my new hotter boyfriend bought me a brand new car. He was a rapper with plenty of cash to spare and he even arranged for my old car to be scrapped for me.

Of course his mental state had become rather unhinged. He had taken our breakup badly... he seemed to blame me for Lucy leaving him and he kept threatening to tell everyone about the Elixir and 'expose me.'

Then sadly he had his accident.

My new boyfriend never did ask about the dents in the bonnet of my old car or why I asked his guys to threaten and shake down all of Daniel's old friends.

Of course my new man knew nothing about my 'condition'. If he ever asked why I seemed to shave my legs more than other girls and took a vial of pink liquid daily - he never asked.

I'm sure he had some suspicions, but I was his bitch and he sure didn't care when his big black dick was stretching my tight pussy out. As he came inside me again and again he whispered the words 'I love you' again and again to me and I knew I owned his soul now.

In fact the bastard had nearly got control the night I followed Daniel and...

After six months of constant use I now had total control of my body and mind. I could stil feel male me in there somewhere, but he was subdued.

Still all it would take is one day when I forgot to drink Elixir and he might fight back.

Well best not to think about that in case it brought him to the surface.

I was still confident that eventually he would cease to be a problem entirely... it just needed a little time.

SIX YEARS

My husband tells me I don't look a day older than when he first met me six years ago, but then again with the amount of work I can have done - staying young looking won't be an issue.

Not that I need it yet. Even though I've given birth twice (although neither Chantelle or Dior were difficult births) I DO look great.

Here I am again at Paris fashion week - my own line of clothes being modelled on the runway.

Much has changed in six years. For a start I haven't taken the Elixir for over a year now. That chapter of my life ended long ago.

Daniel never woke up. They switched him off eventually and I sent a condolence card to his family. Lucy and I made up though - I convinced her it was him who seduced me. We still keep in touch from time to time.

I'm now a celebrity. I got my break through the leaked sex-tapes I 'accidentally' leaked online of me fucking my famous husband.

Now I'm a social media darling and a fashionista. I'm a ruthless heartless bitch, so the media world suits me. No one dares get on my bad side and I ALWAYS get what I want.

I'm rich, bitchy and pretty and I feel pretty fucking good about it.

Anyway my new line of clothing is bound to be a great success. I named it after my favourite number. It's become something of a lucky charm for me.

Can you guess what number?

Yeah - you guessed it. Of course... it's six.

THE END

#evie hyde #bitchification #m2f transformation #corruption #evil bitch #dark #tg elixir

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baoreal · 14 days

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Valentino finds him crouched against the wall of the motorhome that they share with Honda on the other side, still seething with white hot rage after yelling at Márquez. Screaming at him had done nothing to get the anger out of his system, and then he’d heard Marc telling the press he wasn’t even going to bother discussing Marco’s outburst, and now he’s trying very hard to calm down before he goes to congratulate Pecco. His brother doesn’t deserve that kind of negativity, and right now, Marco wants to kill somebody.

Vale crouches in front of him, one of his big hands finding the curls on the back of Marco’s head. “Ben detto” he murmurs softly. “It’s not your fault, he clearly hasn’t changed at all.”

Marco scrapes his hands over his face, wincing at his nose. “He didn’t even react when I screamed at him. Just stared, and then told someone else to remove me from his motorhome.” His fists clench. “And then he says he’s not going to waste time discussing me! Figlio de puttana!”

Vale ruffles his hair. “I’ve been telling you, he’s a crazy motherfucker. He’ll never learn.”

“Hey!” A voice he doesn’t recognize rings out on the other side of the wall.

“Hey, man, ¿qué pasa?.” That one, he’d know anywhere.

“Classy move out there today, completely sidestepping the questions.” It’s not a driver. Someone from the Honda team, probably.

Márquez snorts. “Bezzecchi is what, 23?” He must be changing out of his leathers. They’ve clearly not realised that there’s someone left on the motorhome next door, because they’re making no effort to lower their voices to avoid being heard through the paper-thin walls.

“24, I think.” Says the other voice. He’s almost 25, actually. He rolls his eyes at Vale. What does it matter that he’s young? He has half a mind to go back in there and yell at him some more. Fuck him. Youth does not mean he’s not legitimate competition, or a good driver.

“Eh, still barely an adult.” Márquez again. “Everybody is a fucking idiot in their twenties, but I’m no longer in my twenties. I know how this circus works now, and what would happen if I said anything personal about him to the press. I don’t mind giving my opinion on what he’s done on the race, or what I think he’s done on the race, but anything beyond that is a no, even if he’s a dickhead.” He pauses. Then adds, softer. “Actually, I don’t think he’s a dickhead. He’s just young, and we have both heard everything he said today before, and we both know they’re not his words. I can’t fault the kid for following a god blindly, I used to do it too.”

The world tilts three degrees on its axis. Valentino’s face goes white as a sheet.

“Look at you. Is this what maturity looks like?”

Márquez’s laugh sounds bitter. “I already said it in my documentary, but I don’t wish what Valentino put me through at 22 on anybody. 22 is a stupid age. You think you’re immortal, but you also think you’ll die if you don’t win this championship. Or not die, but the team will drop you if you stop performing, which is just as bad. There’s always someone behind you waiting to get on your bike, if you can’t stay on it. Your body can recover from almost everything, but the press and the team are already counting down the seconds until it gives out. It's an environment where it’s almost impossible to make good decisions, especially in the middle of a race where you’re going 300km/h, your only thought is that you have to be 1st, and you have 2 milliseconds to see and react to anything.” Something opens on the other side of the wall.

“You must still be angry at him. Especially after everything you heard today.”

There’s no need to clarify who “him” is. It’s clearly not Marco.

Something closes. “I’m not even angry anymore, more like. Disappointed? Disappointed with Valentino, because he was supposed to be my friend but he thought badly enough of me to believe that I’d do all those things he accused me of. Didn’t even let me explain. But also disappointed in myself, because it really is the worst feeling when you are just being yourself and your idol, friend, favourite person” - Marco can’t look at Valentino - “in the world publicly says that makes you a danger for everyone and poison for the sport you have dedicated your life to. And suddenly everybody despises you. You don’t just shrug something like that off, no matter how hard I’ve tried to pretend I have.”

There’s a metallic thunk, like someone dropping a bag on a bench.

“I can only be myself. I’ve never learned to be any other way, and I will never play mind games. I want to keep winning until I physically can’t anymore, and then retire and be done with all of this.”

“Are you going to set up your own training academy?” Suggests the other man, timidly.

There’s a meaningful pause.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the documentary, but only two drivers came to see me before I got the surgery. A surgery that involved re-breaking my arm on several points and rotating the bone. There was a chance I might never come back to motogp, and most people didn’t care, not even my own teammate. And even younger drivers like Bezzecchi clearly believe everything that has been said of me, after all these years and after riding with me. I don’t think I will have any kind of legacy other than a number of championships and a bad reputation for my riding style. And a lot of scars and metal in my body. I don't think mentoring will ever be a possibility. I don’t think I want to teach anyone how to ride like me, when this is what it gets you.”

Marco can feel his own face drain of blood. There’s no emotion to Márquez's voice. He’s clearly thought this over plenty. It sounds practised, rehearsed, and utterly sincere.

“You still said very nice things about Rossi in a recent video, even after all of this.”

“I told the truth.” Comes Márquez’s response. “They ask what I think about him as a driver, and that has never changed. He’s the best. Always the best.”

He sounds as certain as anything. The sky is blue, the sun is yellow, and Valentino Rossi is still the best ever MotoGP driver in Marc Márquez’s world.

Valentino’s face is doing something so raw that Marco feels filthy when he hazards a look. He averts his eyes again.

“As I said, I’m not even mad. I would be happy if he decided to stop hating me one of these days. I still like Valentino. I think what he’s done with the academy is great, the way he’s basically adopted those kids. I try not to think much about him other than that.”

He sounds wistful, Marco realises, like part of him wishes he could have been one more of them at the ranch. Like part of him envies that they got that with Vale.

“Except when one of said kids goes to your motorhome to yell at you.”

Marc snorts again. “Hm, maybe he should have taught them better manners, that’s true. But he’s Valentino Rossi. We wouldn’t like him half as much if he had manners.” And with that, the voices finally fade, Márquez clearly done changing. And then it’s just him and Valentino, still crouched on the floor on the other side of the wall.

Valentino looks ill. Properly green, and Marco understands, because he’s feeling queasy himself when he thinks of everything he’d yelled at Marc only hours earlier, everything he has said about him loud enough for everyone to hear.

Valentino has approximately eight years of that.

God help them both.

#I have been on my Rosquez feelings so I had to engineer a situation where Valentino has no choice but to confront his sins head on #and then grapple with the realization of how much irreparable damage he’s dealt Marc #marc/vale #rosquez #realistically would Marc ever bare himself like this? Absolutely not #but let’s pretend that Bezz yelling at him in Valencia caused a weak moment and the jagged edge was visible for a millisecond

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thefreakandthehair · 7 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 6th: Crush | You Could Start A Cult - Niall Horan | Sincere a/n: steddie, pining, post-s4. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

A crush is called a crush for a reason, and Eddie Munson is learning this lesson the hard way.

The very hard way.

The Jesus Christ, all he did was laugh at my stupid joke and I’m going to collapse in on myself like a dying star kind of way.

It’s been nearly a year of this and Eddie feels like he’s being squashed beneath the weight of the giant boulder that is his crush on Steve Harrington. A solid year of his hopeless, pointless, wonderful crush on Steve Harrington.

Everyone knows– well, everyone above the age of 16 has figured it out at least. Eddie isn’t exactly known for his subtlety, after all.

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak had their reservations at the start after years of being persecuted by the same genre of person Steve had been in high school but once Eddie spun them the tale of how Steve carried out from beneath the rubble of a collapsed building, they’d come around. Jeff took the longest, finally acquiescing after properly meeting Steve.

You were always into jocks, dude, c’mon. Sounds like this one might have some redeemable qualities at least.

He couldn’t quite tell them the actual truth, but it’s truth-adjacent and does the job. It paints Steve as the hero Eddie knows him to be, whether Steve wants to acknowledge the title or not.

Robin knew before they’d even gone back into the Upside Down, before Eddie nearly died in Dustin’s arms and then again, in Steve’s.

I was there when you called him Big Boy, Munson. You’re not subtle. He’s just oblivious.

Nancy figured it out when Eddie was in the hospital, still a little loopy from painkillers and who knows what else.

You were on another planet and couldn’t stop talking about his chest hair, Eddie.

Argyle knew on sight the first time he saw Eddie with Steve. It was a little spooky, actually, how on the nose he was about two people he barely knew but on the nose, he was.

You’re the only one callin’ him Stevie, brochacho. And he’s the only one calling you Ed so… take that for what it’s worth.

Jonathan knew because Argyle knew and Jonathan and Argyle seem to have something there, too, but that’s none of Eddie’s business. All of the unrequited love bandwidth he has is tied up in Steve, and his smile, and his way with the kids, and his cologne–

“You got something on your face.”

Robin nudges him in the side behind the kitchen counter where he’s been leaning, watching helplessly through the kitchen window as Steve grills another round of burgers going for their We Lived And Can’t Tell The Tale Because We All Signed NDAs party starting soon.

Eddie wipes his face frantically, hoping he didn’t have ketchup or something on his cheek from Steve’s trial run of the burgers. He pulls his hand back to find nothing besides Robin grinning, bemused and pitying all the same when it clicks.

“I’m not actually drooling. Just… metaphorically. God, let me cling to some shred of dignity here.”

Steve flips another burger, this one landing square right-side-up. Eddie groans, Robin rolls her eyes, and he laments.

“What the fuck is wrong with me that that’s so hot? He’s not doing anything special! He’s just existing in those too-tight jeans and plain tee shirt and I’m ready to lay waste to the evils of the world to get to him. And they say I’m the cult leader? I’d follow this asshole into the bowels of Hell.” Eddie sighs and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

It’s offensive, honestly, the popcorn ceiling and the way it mocks him.

“I mean, you kinda already did.” Robin shrugs and bumps her shoulder into his, somehow softer than her initial nudge. “And look, it’s not my business, but I think you might be surprised if you talked to him. He’s not the same he was when he said all that shit to Jonathan, y’know.”

Eddie whips to the side, too quickly as his head spins for a brief moment. He searches her eyes for hints or a glimmer of hope. Something. Anything.

“What do you know, Buckley?” It’s less a question and more a statement.

“I don’t know a damn thing, other than a conversation might do you both some good. But look,” Robin sighs and hops up to sit on the island next to Eddie as he turns his attention back to Steve manning the grill. He’s trying not to stare at the way Steve twirls the spatula… and failing, of course. How are his hands so big?

“Hello? Munson, Earth to heart-eyes over there. This is information you might really want to listen to.” Robin waves a hand in front of his face and he jolts out of his thoughts. It’s for the best– the second he gets lost in Steve’s hands, it’s all over for him.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m listening.” Eddie responds, vaguely reminded of his many years in school.

“I was saying, Steve’s a good guy. The best guy, really. And I know he’s acted fine with being single the last year or so, but he’s lonely behind that facade. So if this is just like, a crush that’s gonna pass, keep it to yourself. But if you really like him, if you wanna like, be with him, then yeah. I think you might want to talk to him.”

Eddie considers his feelings for a long moment, staring back out the window. This time, he watches Steve at the grill and sees so much more than a guy in too-tight jeans and a plain tee shirt flipping burgers. He sees jumping into the lake, rushing through the Upside Down, finding a quiet moment in the chaos traipsing through the Upside Down’s version of the woods. He sees what little he remembers of bleeding out and being carried by Steve through the portal, of waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed and Steve sitting in the corner with Wayne. He sees every fleeting moment, every soft touch, every nickname and split joint and pizza with half pepperoni and half bacon.

He looks out the window at Steve and sees his life.

Maybe the weight of his crush has only felt so heavy in the way that holding your arms out for too long begins to feel heavy. Maybe the forced, sustained tension would be relieved if he just let himself relax.

“I’m with him already, for better or worse.”

Robin hums in acknowledgement before breaking into laughter as they both watch Steve transfer the burgers to a plate, only to accidentally knock the dish off the side of the grill. He must hear their laughter because his eyes shoot directly to the window and he points the spatula at them, free hand on his hip. “It’s not fucking funny, now I have to go to the store!”

“It’ll probably be for the worse.” Robin looks at him and raises an eyebrow.

Eddie just laughs and shakes his head, tendrils of hair falling into his face that he pulls further across his mouth.

“Worth it.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myblurbs #eddie month prompts

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megu-meow · 7 days

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take my breath - sukuna

Part 4 of my Hockey Player Sukuna Series - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Lmk if you want to be added to the tag list! :D

This part is shit, I'm sorry. After TTPD I found myself unable to write fluff, but I've kept people waiting, so I had to force myself to write this.

When Sukuna says soon, he means the next Thursday. He calls you on Wednesday after practice to ask you formally whether you could keep your schedule open for the next evening and you agree, because you have been waiting for your date for a few days now. However, you find yourself frustratedly trying on every piece of clothing you own, being indecisive about what to wear. You want to look good for him, because as you shyly admitted to your brother, you really like Sukuna. He's rough around the edges, but he seems like a good guy, unlike all the other people you've dated before. You contemplate calling one of the girls, but Senna and Akane love to gossip, and for the time being, you'd like to keep this little date with Sukuna a secret. So you call the only person you can trust in this situation.

Sophia arrives ten minutes after calling her saying you need help getting dressed for a date. She's the only one of the girls who knows that you have something going on with Sukuna, it makes total sense to reach out to her in your current circumstance. You already made her swear on your brother's life that she's not going to say anything about it to the girls, so you're safe in that regard. Plus, she has a keen sense of style, which comes in handy considering you want to impress the pink-haired centerman with your looks. You noticed already how many pretty girls were wearing his jersey to games, you know that he could have any of them at his disposal in a second. It still seems sketchy that he became so fond of you in such a short period of time, but you're not complaining.

"He was so nervous when I left, Kento thought he was going to explode." Sophia says as you try to put socks on, balancing on one foot.

"Who was?" you look at her and you nearly kiss the ground, regaining your balance at the last second.

"Sukuna, of course. He's been pacing around the apartment like a maniac all day."

"Really?" you ask timidly.

"Yeah. Kento said he had never seen him so stressed." for some reason hearing this makes you smile and your heart warm. Sukuna doesn't strike you as someone who would be nervous about dates, but you already learned not to assume anything about him, because he always surprises you with the way he acts.

"I'm kinda nervous too. I want this to go well." you explain and you try to put your earrings in. As you look at yourself in the mirror, wearing the outfit your sister-in-law put together, you're content with your reflection. You look amazing and you feel confident in the pieces you're wearing. Your makeup and hair are done in your usual way, you don't want to look like a completely different person. Apparently, Sukuna agrees that you look good. Because the moment you open your door for him, he freezes in place, with his eyes wide and glimmering. For a second you think something is wrong, but those thoughts are quickly dismissed as he speaks.

"You look beautiful, y/n." he states, his voice softer than you've ever heard. He is wearing a burgundy suit, one that complements his skin tone. His hair is sleeked back, but it still looks effortless in a way. You can smell his usual cologne, the musky scent that lingers. It suits him.

"Says you, handsome." you compliment him back and you swear a blush appears on his cheek. Suddenly, he remembers something, and he gives you the flowers he was hiding behind his back all this time. "Thank you! What happened to all flowers are stupid?" you ask as you smell the peonies in your hand.

"Well I got you some sunflowers, but your brother told me I was insane, so he dragged me to a florist to get 'ones that girls actually like'." he explains.

"He's right, you know? You made me wait four days for this date, the least you can do is give me some girly flowers." you joke and he rolls his eyes. Nonetheless, he reaches out for your hand. You slip it in his palm, which is calloused from holding a hockey stick most hours of a day, but very warm.

"Listen, woman, I made you wait because I wanted to take you to a 3 Michelin Star restaurant that specializes in your favorite food." he explains as he opens the door of his car for you to hop in.

"What?" you ask in shock before he closes the door after you. He leans down, looking into your eyes with a smirk across his face.

"You heard me, y/n. Now, don't be so shocked, I told you I would go all out for our date."

"You didn't have to though. You could have taken me to a hole-in-the-wall ramen place and I would have liked it." you say, slightly feeling bad "How did you manage to get a table anyway? These places are booked months ahead."

"The owner is a huge Wizards fan and apparently I'm his kid's favorite player. I had the team sign a jersey and got them season tickets, so they were glad to do me a small favor in return." he explains like it is nothing, but it means the world to you. No one has ever done something so grand for a date with you. It makes your heartbeat go nuts and you can't help but stare at him as he drives. You observe his tattooed hand that is on the armrest, shaking slightly. You smile and instinctively take it in yours, laying your intertwined hands in your lap. He turns his head towards you in shock, but he quickly looks back to the road. The blush from before returns, even his neck turns pink, and you smile, adoring his reactions.

The dinner goes by fast, despite lasting for hours. The food is exquisite, as expected. Most importantly, there's not one dull moment. You and Sukuna talk like you've known each other your whole lives. He asks about your interests, what you like to do in your free time, where you went to school, and about your friends. He seems interested in everything you talk about, he listens with an intensity you find rare. He drinks up every single word that leaves your mouth, he asks questions, and he's genuinely curious about how you perceive the world. You ask him plenty of questions yourself and he answers them gladly. He seems very fond of his brothers, he shows you pictures of them and you observe how Yuji has the same color hair as him and Choso has a very similar line tattooed on his nose as Sukuna's.

"They're coming to town soon, by the way." he comments and your eyes light up.

"How come?"

"It's Yuji's draft year and it's held here in Tokyo. Choso just tags along because he clings to that brat like a leech."

"That's so rude!" you exclaim, but you're smiling. You're aware that Sukuna probably shows his love towards his brothers a little bit peculiarly.

"Well, it's true."

"Do you see a chance of Yuji being drafted by the wizards?" you ask.

"Not really. He is prospected to be in the top three of the draft and we are clinching the playoffs this next game as number one in the league. We probably won't have a pick in the top ten."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It would have been cool for him to have you on the team he's drafted to."

"I don't think so. If I'm being honest, I'm glad there is little to no chance for that to happen as of now."

"Why is that?"

"He won't have a target on his back. Otherwise, people would be mean to him and would rough him up with the sole purpose of pissing me off. This way he can become a professional player without being concussed every game."

"You're very protective of your brothers, huh?" you ask and he smiles.

"You could say that." he smirks "I'm protective of everything I own, you know." he adds looking into your eyes deeply. You know there is a deeper meaning behind his words. He's implying that he would be just as safeguarding about you if you were his girlfriend. You find it hard to believe that a guy like him exists. He is so charming but respectful. He is attentive, you mentioned one time what your favorite food was and he remembered, moreover, he went out of his way to get you the best version available of it.

"Where were you my whole life?" you ask, not realizing that you blurted out your thoughts just like that. You feel embarrassed as your hands fly to your runny mouth, covering it. However, Sukuna just laughs. He rarely laughs like this. It comes deep from within, the type that shakes your whole body and you're sure you're red like a lobster as you observe him.

"Sweetheart, I've been asking that question about you since December." he answers, his charming smile never fading.

"December?" you question.

"Oh, I thought your brother told you about that too." he seems shocked, but he continues "I've spotted you in the crowd at the Family Game in Kyoto. I was mesmerized, I even ran into one of my teammates on accident, I was too preoccupied with looking at the angel in the Wizards jersey."

"Oh, I remember that. I was laughing about that with Akane." you recall and Sukuna frowns "So you've had your eyes sat on me since then?"

"Well, I didn't know I was going to meet you on my first day in Tokyo while I was shirtless, but destiny has its way, I guess."

"You believe we were destined to meet?"

"I told you before, sweetheart, I am superstitious. Take that as you want, but I do think we are here having dinner for a reason." he explains.

Your date ends when the restaurant staff asks you nicely to leave because they've been closed for two hours already. You didn't even realize that all the other customers had left and the staff was ready to close. Sukuna pays for the bill and he sends you a death glare when you offer to pay for your part. "Woman, you won't have to pay for anything while you are out with me." he states, irritation evident in his tone. He also drives you home and walks you to your door. You're wearing his suit jacket, because you were a bit cold, although he turned the heater on in the car.

"Thank you for tonight! I had a lot of fun." you smile up at him, as you're trying to say goodbye on your doorstep.

"There is nothing to be thankful for, you got what you deserve, princess." he says and he seems a little bit disappointed, but you're not able to determine why. Maybe the date didn't go as well in his perspective as you thought.

"Is something wrong? Did I say something to offend you?" you ask in panic and he quickly shakes his head, dismissing it. Suddenly the redness returns to hiss tattooed cheeks and he suddenly seems nervous.

"I just thought I deserved a kiss after that." he whispers shyly, his face down, gaze locked on the tip of his shoes.

It's your turn to laugh at his awkwardness, but you still cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. You don't quite understand where all this fearlessness came into you from, but you're glad it did because the kiss is magical. It's soft but eager and you can feel him smiling into it as his large hands find their destined spot in your hips. You're the one to break the kiss, but Sukuna pulls you in closer, resting his forehead on yours, and looking deeply into your eyes. His smile reaches his ears and he whispers to you softly:

"I hate to break it to you princess, but I don't think I can go on with my life without doing that every day."

You smile, and respond with a smile just as wide as his "Good, because I don't think I can either."

The next day is game day and you arrive at your brother's apartment beforehand. You usually drive with them to the arena. Sukuna emerges from his room in his game-day suit, his eyes glowing up the moment he sees you there.

"We're gonna be down at the car, Bambi." Sophia says as she and Kento leave in a hurry.

Sukuna steps closer to you, embracing you, his muscular arms around your shoulders.

"Hello, princess! How are you?"

"I'm great, Sukuna. Thank you for asking! How are you?"

"Better now that I know you're coming to the game to cheer me on." you smile, stepping away from the embrace, and you look into his eyes. "Are you gonna give me a good luck kiss or what?"

You're surprised by his boldness, but you leave a peck on his lips nonetheless.

"If I do good today, you're gonna have to do that before every game." he states.

"Alright. You've got yourself a deal." you smile and you urge him out the door, before your brother and his wife could start thinking that you're doing something inappropriate in their home.

Good does not describe the way Sukuna plays that night. He has one of the best games of his life and after the first goal, as his celebration, he looks towards where you're standing and points at you with a wide smile on his face. This is your sign that from now on, you're gonna have to keep your promise of giving him a good luck kiss before every game.

🩵 Tag list: @ichorstainedskin @ureuphoriasworld @new-weather47 @deepchromatose @cvr2mya @janrcrosssing @bakuhoes-bxtch @deluluforcarlos55 @stainednailpolishremover @thejujvtsupost @bleachisfood @dorck26 @chilichopsticks @when-worlds-end 🩵

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #sukuna #sukuna imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #Ren Writes - Sukuna ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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thatgirlie-diaries · 6 months

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Week 5 - #100DayReinvention Progress log ୨୧

Original challenge by @dreamdolldiary

Hello girlies! Welcome to the fifth log of this challenge. I am actually so excited for the start of a new month and grateful for all the progress and moments I lived in October. Last month I was focused on achieving, having the base for my habits and goals. Now that I now what I need to do and what I love, in this month alongside progressing with my goals I will focus on being healthier, softer and prettier as so buying new items and going on girly dates.

𝐈. My weekly progress

Health: Did pilates once, slept at 10pm some days and ate healthier in general (my sleeping schedule and diet are things that are costing me to have in a good state, but I'm making progress), my skin is clearer and hair is healthier.

Academic: finished my Italian online and physical exercises, got an 100 on my 3rd Italian test, got all my academic tasks done in time

Adulting: no new progress

Hobby: began reading a book (It didn't start with you), feel more confident with my cheer skills, wrote 3 blogs this week

Social: played with my dog, spent more time with my friends and being social. celebrated halloween at uni and at cheer

Healing: meditated and practiced yoga in the morning and at night, currently using frequencies, indulged in manifestation and soft living

Style: makeup looked more flawless, learned new hairstyles

𝐈𝐈. I need to work on

Sleep earlier to wake up earlier - To achieve this I will reduce my electronic consumption and be commited to sleep and wake up at the time I stablished

Eat healthier - I already eat healthy, but sometimes I'm lazy to cook and fall into the junk food trap. I will meal prep each week and chose interesting meals and new recipes for me to be motivated. Also drink more water, I will add fruits to make it appealing

Sensorial rest - Use screen timers, listen to music on scecific times and not as a distraction, less sound and earphone usage, lean on more to stillness and be alone with myself

Work on my mental diet - Be aware of my thoughts and what I'm focusing on. I will choose positive feelings, positive affirmations and discard any negativity towards myself, situations or other people

Be brave and open minded to fail to achieve the goals that I fear - I heard someone said once "If it scares you, it's because it's meant for you"

𝐈𝐈𝐈. Next week I will focus on

Based on my experiene from October and last week, I will focus all around the month to balance my consistent progress and focusing on leveling up my healthy and feminine lifestyle (diet, pampering, hobbies, productivity, energy, mindset, social skills, buying new itenms, etc) so this week I will mainly focus on this.

See you next week, girlies! Wish me luck and love 𑄽𑄺ྀ

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grison-in-space · 6 months

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idly I was chatting with the house about the sort of dog that would be good to do Matilda's job. You know, the "pester ADHD human when stuck" task and the "make that human go to bed on time" tasks are really useful, but they're very experimental for me--I don't know many people who have trained them in a service capacity.

So I was thinking about whether you could teach these tasks to a dog who's a lot less... *gestures* that than she is. I've run into a few people who consider the idea wistfully, consider Matilda, and visibly go "yeah, but I do not want to handle that dog." Which is fair. I did this to myself on purpose, but I'm aware that I'm sensory-seeking in some very specific ways. So I spend a fair bit of time thinking about what is working for me about her training and her nascent tasks, and whether you could do this more easily with dogs that are better tuned to public access needs.

Obviously yes, you could teach the tasks in the sense of, the skills she is learning are not difficult skills to achieve. You can teach a touch target to an eight week old puppy. I'm extremely certain that you can teach just about any dog to aggressively touch-target a human in response to a acoustic cue (since I use both phone alarms and vocal cues, both of which appear to be incredibly helpful when I get stuck).

The thing is, I'm not sure whether the task is something a retriever would enjoy. I feel like this is something where the dog has to actively enjoy being in conflict with its handler a bit, like friendly wrestling or the kind of rough teasing that is actually fun for all parties. I often wail and try to mildly resist Matilda's cues; I am very very very careful not to undermine her understanding of what I will reward her for, but there's also a reason I thought it would be worth it for me to train a dog to do this task. Getting up myself in response to an alarm doesn't work; I need an external push to get up quickly, and I tend to resist a little.

Matilda, because she is the kind of asshole I really do enjoy in a dog, apparently finds pushing me around really fun. Once she understood that I wasn't really upset when I zone or whine, and will in fact tell her "good girl! well done!" if she successfully herds me through my tasks or makes me listen to a recorded alarm, she seems to have conceptualized any flailing from me as play conflict: fun to push through, ritualized and not a big deal, and a fun game.

The question I have is: do those of you with softer, "easier" dogs think that your dogs would be happy to play a game like this? I'm really curious. I think I could teach most terriers to do this without a problem, but I'm not sure how more traditionally biddable herders and gundogs would respond to it.

@doomspaniels , particularly curious about your thoughts: I know you do similar task work with your spaniels and have been doing it much longer than I have!

Have a cute dog photo for good luck.

#matilda #australian cattle dog #1 year #service tasks #dogblr

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sunmoonstarsflowers · 1 year

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Astrology Observations 3

🌸 How to use astrology in a way that will actually help you? This is how I use astrology for myself without letting it overwhelm me, so it's just my opinion First thing: When you're looking at your placements, don't take them too seriously. Remember that these are energies and you have the power to manifest them. Very often, we unknowingly manifest these energies but we can do that consciously too. So, remember to do this:

🌸 When you read about a positive aspect or placement of yours, and you like being that way, focus on how true it is, even if you feel it may not be true. This focus on what you already have and what you already are, this is what we call as focusing on the abundance (instead of the lack of something), is going to get it manifested.

🌸 When you read something negative/neutral about your placements or aspects, learn about it, think about how it may manifest in your life and consciously try to get out of that situation or consciously try not to be that person. Let me give you an example:

🌸 I have a few placements which says that I'm beautiful and charming but when I read about it, I didn't think that I was charming or beautiful but I didn't tell myself that I wasn't, I let myself think that I was beautiful and just be. While there were placements which said that I may turn passive agrresive or that despite my wish to lead, I may let go of control over myself, so I remember this everytime and try my best to not be this person.

🌸 You don't have to actually understand all your placements or experience them right now, it'll take time and few more experiences, but you'll be okay. You'll learn how to deal with them.

🌸 Cancer placements remind me of pink in the first picture (of books) below instead of Libra placements. Libra is more of the 3rd picture of the perfume I guess, and the 2nd picture of Minnie from G-IDLE reminds me of Leo.

🌸 Lilith in 8th house may be able to find strength and power in thier sexuality. The more they learn about it, explore it without going all the way at once, they'd find themselves to be genuinely empowered through it.

🌸 Scholars of Vedic India believed astrology to be one of the core studies one need to master to be a learnt scholar. For them, astrology and astronomy were mutually inclusive, if not the same. Many astronomers from ancient India have described a lot of astronomical phenomenons.

🌸 There are two types of planets: Superior or Inferior. Superior planets are those which have orbits larger than that of the Earth, they're farther from the Sun, hence are slower. These planets are more enduring than the Inferior ones, which have orbits shorter than The Earth, namely Venus and Mercury. And superior planets are Mars, Jupitar, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto.

🌸 From my observation, people with Sun conjunct Venus have softer nose, while people with Sun conjunct Mars have sharper nose.

🌸 I've noticed Sun conjunct Moon men to have long and sleek nose.

🌸 Most Sun conjunct Mars women have a very noticeable and attractive jawline.

🌸 People with Sun conjunct Jupitar have a golden and brown glow about them.

I have around 257 followers, I'm planning on hosting a Game for celebrating 300 followers, so let's reach the goal and have fun! ✨

#astro notes #astro observations #astrology notes #intuitive readings #intutition #astrology community #astrology observation #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #Astrology #vedic astrology #astrology #astroblr

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daytaker · 4 months

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Hungry For You

Beelzebub is learning that there are more dimensions to gluttony than a hunger for food.

(It's not as exciting as the title and description would lead you to believe. Only wholesome Beel here, I'm afraid.)

Ship: Beelzebub x Reader Word Count: 666 (smirk) Cross-Posted with AO3

I’m not very complicated. I’m just hungry most of the time.

My brothers are more complex. Lucifer and Satan for sure, but also Levi and Asmo and Belphie… Even Mammon’s got more to him than meets the eye. Not me though. I’m just hungry.

I’m always hungry, you know? Always. It used to scare me when I first became a demon, because it felt like I’d gorge myself until I died. Or like I’d starve no matter how much I ate. Or like I’d go crazy from how hungry I felt and accidentally hurt someone.

I got used to it after a while. I never actually ate anybody.

I try to be honest most of the time. It’s easier than hiding things. So it isn’t a big secret that I like you a lot.

You’re always nice to me, even though I’m kind of boring and not all that smart. You listened to me when I talked about Belphie and Lilith. You share your food with me. You smile at me and you give nice hugs. I’m not very complicated. So that’s enough for me to like you a lot.

I’m not the only one who likes you. Belphie does too. He didn’t used to smile as much as he does now that you’re here. And Mammon follows you around like a golden retriever. Even Lucifer seems a little less tense when you’re around.

I like that about you too. I’m not a really complicated person, but I love my brothers. I like how happy you make them.

I’m glad I’m strong and tall, because you’re so small and squishy. You seem like you’d break really easily. I’d like to protect you, I think. But I haven’t really gotten to do that. Instead, you protected me and Luke during the situation with the Grimoire. I still can’t believe you did that…

I was a little mad at you for that, actually. I never wanted somebody to get hurt because of me. I don’t think Lucifer would have killed me if you’d just grabbed Luke and gotten somewhere safe. And I wouldn’t have felt like you let me down or you didn’t care about me or anything if you did that. It wouldn’t be a betrayal for a human to run away in a situation like that. It’s natural to want to keep yourself safe. So why didn’t you? I wouldn’t have been upset with you, you know. If Diavolo hadn’t shown up when he did, then… I mean, if anything went wrong, really. I keep wondering… what if you died?

I think I’d end up feeling hungry forever.

Not hungry for food. Hungry for… I don’t know. It’s softer than when I’m hungry for food, and it’s not as desperate, so I feel like I have more control over myself. But it’s still a new sort of hunger, and it’s still pretty strong, and it makes me a little uneasy.

Does it sound too weird if I say I feel hungry for you?

I don’t mean anything strange by it. It’s not like I actually want to eat you. It’s more like… I feel like something inside me wants to hold onto something inside you, forever. I think if you were gone, I’d miss you too much, and there’d be something empty in me that ached. That’s what I mean by feeling hungry for you. And it makes me nervous. It’s the same sort of anxiety I used to feel when I was new to the Devildom, and I worried that I’d starve. I wonder, if you were gone, and I couldn’t stop feeling hungry for you, what would happen? Would I die? Or would I go crazy? It’s scary.

I try not to think about that too much. It’s okay as long as you’re around. That fills me up okay. Not as much as when you hold my hand, though. Or when you hug me.

Did you know you smell like dessert? It’s really nice.

#obey me #fanfic #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me x reader #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub x reader #daytaker fanfic #beel

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sluttywonwoo · 1 year

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instead of you [part nine] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (18+ mdni), nausea (but no getting sick)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!! ; i know minho is the chef of the group but just suspend your disbelief for this series and pretend it’s jisung

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

The kitchen on the Fallin’ Flower was small, but still impressive considering it was on a boat. Everything was up to standard, as far as you knew from what you had learned from Jisung, and covered in sleek stainless steel.

You sat atop one of the counters while Minho rifled through the cabinets in search of something for you to snack on.

“I swear we have crackers somewhere around here,” he mumbled to himself.

“I can just eat the leftovers,” you suggested for what must’ve been the third or fourth time.

“No! What we had was spicy, that won’t be good for your stomach,” he insisted.

“Was it objectively spicy, or spicy to you?” you asked with a hint of a smile.

“You wanna go there? The Korean versus the American in heat tolerance?” he challenged. “I’ll have you know that I quite like spicy food.”

“Are you sure?” you said, calling his bluff.

“You know what, when you’re feeling better we’ll see who can handle it more between the two of us.”

“Name the time and the place I’ll be there.”

“Oh, here! I knew we had them!” Minho exclaimed, holding up a packet of saltines victoriously.

You took them from him gratefully and ripped open the plastic sleeve. Minho watched you carefully as you ate. He was leaning against the counter across from where you were sitting with his arms crossed over his chest casually. His features were softer than you remembered seeing them, like he was actually relaxed for once.

He was always so tense, clenched jaw, stiff posture, you had just figured it was his default. But looking at him now was like seeing him for the first time.

You offered him a cracker and he took it, smiling.

“Thanks.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” you said back.

He shook his head, still smiling. “It’s nothing.” Then he trained his eyes on the floor. “Are you still mad at Jisung?”

You sighed and shoved another cracker into your mouth before answering. “A little,” you admitted.

Minho nodded thoughtfully in understanding but didn’t respond. You wanted to explain yourself, explain that you weren’t just an angry girlfriend but you refrained. You weren’t sure how much of yourself to reveal to him, how much truth you could let slip through the cracks before you crossed into dangerous territory.

You were a side character to the Han Family, a temporary one at that. You were playing a role, and in a couple of months you’d be written off and eventually replaced. Was it even worth it to open up to them?

“The thing is,” you started, surprising both yourself and Minho by breaking the silence, “I used to do the same thing.” You still did the same thing. “Whenever I slept with a stranger Jisung would lecture me about it, but apparently he was doing the same thing behind my back and it just… feels fucked up.”

“It is fucked up,” Minho agreed. He seemed angry now. “I’ll be honest, I’ve done that too, but he never said anything to me.”

“I know he means well, and he wanted me to be safe, but now it just feels like he was reinforcing some double standard. Do you know what I mean?”

“You mean you felt like he was judging you for something men do all the fucking time?”

Hit the nail on the head.

“More or less,” you said quietly. “I know he didn’t mean to-”

“Even unintentionally it’s not okay. You’re right, he was probably just trying to be protective, but he was still out of line.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

You nodded insistently. “I should be the one to talk to him.” You glanced over at the clock on the oven and straightened up. “Actually, I should go do that now. It’s getting late.”

Minho looked conflicted, words lingering unsaid between you. But he cleared his throat and offered you his hand to help you down from the counter. You took it and hopped down, almost colliding with him in the narrow kitchen alley.

Your chests were nearly pressed together, that’s how small the walkway was. You thought that if you breathed you would surely brush up against him. So you held your breath.

“Okay, goodnight,” Minho said finally.

“Goodnight. Thanks for the crackers.” You held the half-empty package out to him to take, but he refused.

“Keep them. You might feel better now, but you’re going to need more food to soak up some of the alcohol.”

“Thanks.”

“Make sure to drink a lot of water, too,” he added. “I don’t want you to feel hungover in the morning.”

You promised him you would and let yourself out of the kitchen to go back to your and Jisung’s bedroom. You clung to the wall in the hallway as you stumbled to your room. You couldn’t tell if your inhibited balance was due to the rocky sea beneath the boat or your own drunkenness, but it felt like the room was spinning.

Once you found your room you practically fell through the door onto the carpeted floor. Jisung caught you clumsily, saving you from rug burn on your knees.

“Y/n!” You could hear the surprise in his voice as he hoisted you onto the bed. “I went up to the top deck to look for you, but you were gone, so I came back here- but you weren’t here either.”

You didn’t have the energy to explain yourself so you just held up the crackers that were still in your hand.

“How much did you have to drink?”

“I don’t know, enough for me to lose the fucking game,” you grumbled. “I forgot to have dinner too, so that didn’t help.”

Jisung grimaced. “Oh, that’s right.”

“Yeah.”

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to stop the dizziness, but it only made it worse. Jisung was looking down at you solemnly, hands on his hips like a worried dad. You avoided his eyes, too ashamed and angry to meet them. You knew that if you did you would start crying.

“I’m really sorry,” he said gently, after a moment had passed. You could tell he meant it, but a little part of you doubted.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” you sighed.

“I think I do.” You stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to continue. “It’s because I was an asshole about hookup culture, isn’t it? I always tell you that you shouldn’t sleep with strangers, but I went and did the same thing. And I never told you about it. Does that about cover it?”

Your silence was a confirmation in of itself and Jisung shook his head at himself. “I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it really was before I met you. And it’s the only time I never got their name.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, not even convincing yourself. “You can fuck whoever you want, just don’t be a hypocrite when it comes to me. I know you want me to be safe, but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

Jisung looked at you like he didn’t believe that last part but ultimately agreed. “I’ll try my best,” he assured you. “Just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more frat guys, please.” You laughed. “I have a heart attack every time I check your location and you’re at a frat house. If you care about my health you’ll go back to athletes.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “I guess I can do that.”

Jisung gave you a satisfied hum and took a seat on the bed next to you, pushing stray hairs out of your face. Even lying still, you still felt like you were being tossed and turned. The boat’s steady rocking was doing nothing to help your state.

“Ji, I don’t feel good,” you complained, holding your stomach.

“Want me to run you a bath?” he offered and nodded towards the door to the ensuite of your room.

“This boat has a fucking bathtub?” Jisung just chuckled and nodded. “Jesus Christ.”

“Do you want me to run you one?”

“Yes please.”

Jisung slipped from your side and disappeared into the bathroom. You heard him turn on the faucet and let the water run until it was hot before plugging the drain. He appeared in the doorway again before you could process anything else.

“C’mere,” he said and beckoned you over. “It’s ready for you. Call me if you need anything.”

He had left a towel out on the counter for you and turned out all the lights except for the one above the mirror so it wouldn’t be too much for you. The water was the perfect temperature too.

You felt a pang of guilt twinge in your stomach thinking about what had gone down between you a few hours ago. You’d yelled at him, embarrassed him in front of his brothers, and here he was admitting he was wrong, apologizing, and doing something nice for you. Even if he was in the wrong, you weren’t absolved of all responsibility. You had been the one to let your temper and insecurities get the better of you.

You blew out a breath and slipped under the surface of the water, letting it overtake your senses. You took your time washing your hair and body, content to sit in the bath until the water got cold and your fingers pruned.

Jisung was lying on the bed reading when you came back into the bedroom. He looked up at you and smiled when he saw you wrapped in a towel.

“Cold?” he asked, as if your shivering wasn’t apparent enough. You nodded. “Put your pajamas on and come warm up in bed then!”

“But that’s so much work!” you whined, even though you were already searching through your suitcase for your PJs.

Jisung rolled his eyes at you and went back to his book. You got dressed and promptly hopped into bed next to him, pulling the blankets all the way up to your chin.

“Do you think tomorrow will be awkward?” you whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“Like with your brothers and stuff, because we kind of had a fight.”

“Oh, maybe a little,” he admitted.

“I think we should have makeup sex then,” you decided. “And then we can just pretend like everything’s fine.”

“My brothers are all the way on the other side of the boat, though. It’s not worth it to have fake sex again if they can’t even hear us.”

“I’ll just give you a hickey this time.”

“But you’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

Jisung shrugged. “Fair enough.”

You wriggled out of your blanket cocoon enough to reach his neck and licked a stripe up the column of his throat before settling on a place to suck.

“Fuck,” Jisung let out with a surprised shudder. You forced yourself not to think about it and kept going until a nice rosy bruise had blossomed under his skin.

“I think that’s good, what about you?”

Jisung stood from the bed and walked over to the mirror to admire your work. He angled his head so that the light would shine right on the mark and swore. It was still pink and raw, but the purple and blue shades were already starting to emerge underneath.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to tell my parents, y/n?”

“I don’t know, that you got hit with a ping pong ball or something?”

“Like they’ll believe that!”

“I made it low enough so that it can be covered with a t-shirt, just wear your shirt around them if it’s that big a deal.”

“But it’s going to be hot tomorrow.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby. Yours isn’t even as big as mine was.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“Jisung,” you pleaded, “please just come back to bed already. I’m tired.”

Your best friend relented and returned to the bed, this time slipping underneath the covers next to you. He turned off the lamp on the bedside table and rolled over to face you. For whatever reason, you felt compelled to be closer to him so you rolled onto your side and pushed your body back against his. He took your cue and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you so that he was spooning you.

You fell asleep tangled together like you had hundreds of times, only for you to dream about his brother.

It wasn’t your fault, really. It’s not like you could control your subconscious. The dream was innocent enough…

You were with your friends in your old apartment playing beer pong when Minho came up behind you and slung an arm around your waist. He pulled you close, kissed you on the cheek once, and turned his attention to the game.

“Who’s winning?”

“Y/n’s up by two,” Ruby, a girl from your cohort explained.

“That’s my girl,” Minho said with a wink, squeezing your hip.

His girl. It rolled off his tongue like he’d said it a thousand times, like he’d say it a thousand more.

You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed. “I’m tired.”

“What? You’re winning! You can’t quit now,” he insisted.

“Sure I can.”

“What if I join your team and play a couple of rounds for you?” he suggested. “How does that sound?”

“Fine, I guess. Just don’t ruin my score.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Minho lifted his head to address your friends. “Mind if I take over for a sec?”

“I feel you’re going to do it anyway regardless of what we say.”

“You’re right,” Minho quipped before aiming the ping-pong ball at the other side of the table. He sank the ball into a cup in the upper left-hand corner effortlessly, shooting you a victorious grin.

“It’s not fair that they’re playing together,” Ruby’s teammate whined as Minho scored another point.

“Drunk and drunker always win,” your friend said matter-of-factly, bringing the plastic cup of beer to her mouth.

“No, we don’t!” Minho argued.

“When you’re sober you don’t,” Ruby agreed. “That’s how you got your nickname.”

Minho handed the last ping-pong ball to you. “You make the winning shot, babe. You’re the one that did most of the work.”

The next thing you knew he was kissing you in celebration, swinging you around like you’d just won the World Cup. You kissed him back, but something felt off. You never did this with Jisung- then it hit you.

“Where’s Jisung?”

Minho set you down and gave you a look of confusion. “Who?”

You jolted awake with a start, guilt immediately flooding your senses. The dream hadn’t been anything sexual, but you still felt like you had done something wrong.

Jisung was still holding you, his arms wrapped around your midsection and his legs intertwined with yours, and you suddenly felt suffocated by the position. As gently and as quickly as possible you untangled yourself from your best friend and climbed out of bed.

Your head was pounding and you remembered what Minho had said about drinking a lot of water last night, and about how you’d ignored it.

You splashed some cold water on your face in the bathroom, but all it did was get your hair and shirt wet. It didn’t wake you up at all.

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom you saw that Jisung was still asleep and breathed a sigh of relief. You weren’t ready to face him yet. You knew he wouldn’t know about your dream, but for some reason, you felt like he would. Like he’d take one look at you and know your subconscious had replaced him with his older brother.

The hickey you’d given him the night before was peeking out of the collar of his shirt. It had faded a bit since then but was still noticeable. You wondered if anyone would say anything about it.

“Jisung, what the fuck happened to your neck?”

You nearly spit out your drink when you heard Felix ask his twin brother the question in front of everyone.

Jisung turned bright red and automatically looked to you, even though you were screaming at him not to with your eyes.

“I, um, burned myself,” he sputtered.

You wanted to tackle him to the ground. What happened to the pep talk you’d had with him yesterday about this very scenario?

His parents thankfully looked uninterested, but Felix just smirked. Minho had raised his head from his phone, but you couldn’t read his expression. He was paying attention to his brothers’ conversation but seemed annoyed. You thought he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to clown his younger brother, but he was acting like he couldn’t care less, like he wanted them to stop talking about it altogether. Felix had to fly solo on this one.

“I didn’t know burn marks could be purple.”

“You learn something new every day,” Jisung said through gritted teeth.

“Mhm, you sure do,” Felix mused, biting his lip to keep from smiling too wide.

You only had one more day on the boat, then one day in Venice where you docked. Another taxi, another train, another two-mile walk because you got lost and you were checking into another hotel in Florence with the Hans.

There was barely any time to settle into your rooms before you had to reconvene in the lobby. Apparently, you were already running behind on the itinerary and needed to be in the next location for the day in less than an hour.

You had hastily changed into your matching t-shirt and walking shoes before dragging Jisung downstairs with you. The couple days of rest on the yacht had made the soreness in your legs subside, but ten minutes of walking through the city had it returning with a vengeance.

You couldn’t even enjoy the scenery because you were too distracted by the blisters forming on the backs of your heels.

Florence was hotter than Paris, and even more crowded. There were people everywhere. Every corner you turned had you nearly colliding with another group of tourists who, more often than not, were also wearing matching t-shirts.

Jisung was holding your hand, but the contact was beginning to feel sticky and unbearable. You let go and wiped your hand on your shorts, earning a silent thank you from your counterpart.

After what seemed like an eternity Dom and Nikki finally stopped in front of a small storefront with a small wooden sign hanging from the overhead balcony that read Vivanda.

The second the air conditioning hit you you breathed a sigh of relief and sank into the nearest chair, only to be forced to stand up again when you were all ushered into another room.

Instead of sightseeing today you were taking a class where you’d learn how to make pasta by hand. Jisung had learned how to make pasta a couple of years ago in his culinary arts program but wanted to take another class in the pasta capital of the world. He also wanted you to learn yourself since you were constantly asking him to make it for you.

The other students were already waiting in the kitchen for you when the six of you filed in. Your instructor introduced himself as Leo and passed down a disposable apron for each of you. You wrote your names in print big enough to read as he gave you the spiel. He was handsome, a little older, but still handsome with a 5 o’clock shadow and thick-rimmed glasses that were balanced on the bridge of his nose. You had to remind yourself not to stare.

Jisung helped you tie your apron in the back and then did it himself with the expertise of a practiced professional before you both joined the line to wash your hands. The table was covered with wax paper and in front of everyone was a pile of flour and a couple of eggs.

Leo demonstrated how to create a little bowl in your flour mountain and then crack the eggs inside. He started to mix the ingredients together with his hands and everybody else followed suit. You didn’t like the feeling of the dough sticking to your skin, the texture of the flour was gritty and the runniness of the eggs made it feel wet, but you tried to ignore the discomfort and knead it as fast as possible.

Jisung was finished first, unsurprisingly, and tried to help you with yours. He stood behind you and held your hands in his, pressing his thumbs over yours to show you the technique.

“Like this,” he said, pressing with a little more force than you had been using.

“It’s hard,” you complained.

“That’s what she said,” Felix whispered next to you, immediately followed by “sorry” when you and Jisung both glared at him.

“It just takes practice,” Jisung assured you, despite all of the other first-time students kneading their dough with ease.

“Jisung, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were the teacher of this class,” Leo complimented, testing the firmness of his dough.

“He’s a chef,” you said proudly.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Minho interjected.

Jisung scoffed, giving his brother a dirty look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

i see skz in a few days and i'm freaking out adkjfhsdj anyway lmk what you think, i always appreciate feedback!

iou tags: @sluttywoozi @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsdofafangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvselines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @sana-within-you @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtoooyoungforthisshit @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcoffee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands

add yourself to the taglist here!

#instead of you skz #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female!reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lino x reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know fic #lee know fanfic #lee know fanfiction #lee know series #stray kids series

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blow-me-a-kis · 1 year

Text

Piracy in ofmd is actually already a culture departed from cis het neurotypical society and Izzy is actually a representation of that. I think if ppl would stop treating Stede like he's injecting neurodiversity and queerness into piracy, and instead as the beneficiary of that society, they could see it, too.

I just feel like ppl who don't perceive Izzy as autistic don't really have close friendships with a lot of autistic or neurodiverse ppl IRL. That or they are still doing a lot of masking in relationships and expecting others to masks. But some of us can't.

Most ppl who interact with me IRL probably think I'm mean or rude or even stupid. I'm partially non verbal, I can't smile at strangers/on command, I can't laugh at jokes I don't find funny, I get snippy and irritable if I'm overstimulated. If you ask me how I'm doing, know that me asking you back is like pushing a boulder up a hill for me.

When I do speak it may come out slowly or come off as crytic/weird/inappropriate, and also I may say it too loud or too quiet or too late or with an inappropriate inflection or with a facial expression that doesn't match. My most embarrassing trait is that I get shouty when I'm having a meltdown and I cant help it.

On top of all that I'm Black, so ppl read me as aggressive/negative no matter how I present

I also have autistic and neurodiverse friends who are very similar to me. I have friends who are downright grating in personality, real Izzy's, who I take comfort in because I know its okay if they find me grating. They don't care if I take a long time to respond or don't respond at all when asked a question, they don't mind if I get snippy or they'll tell me directly if I hurt their feelings instead of holding it against me.

I am actually at a point in my life where I am reevaluating friendships where masking has been a requirement, where I feel the need to perform to be liked. I just want to be allowed to be boring or in a bad mood or tired or slow and inflexible, or a Bitch, because I am, and being Pleasant is just not accessible to me. I'll be 33 this year, and I'm exhausted of trying to be anything but myself.

Even the ways a lot of folks like Stede leave out his less palatable autistic traits. Like the fact that almost everyone who meets him in canon does not like him and he has to grow on most ppl. He's hard headed, annoying, presumptuous, obnoxious. This is apart of his autism as well, and why piracy suits him, FREES him.

Izzy is right at home as a pirate because of these very things also. He doesn't have to mask as a neurodiverse person or as a queer man.

I think it's safe to say a lot of ppl's classist views on piracy are reflected in their negative/unfair views of Izzy. The idea that pirates should be softer or nicer or more pleasant or even that a failure to take on these values is Toxic Masculinity (taking this phrase from fandom and putting it on a high shelf until you learn that upperclass white cis het neurotypical masculinity is not the norm and white women learn to question their motivation in normalizing the idea of systemic harm they can't participate in) neglects what Oluwande spoke about in episode one, that piracy is a culture built by people who did not have a choice to do anything but survive.

I hope in s2 we will see Stede get a taste of what that struggle is really like and abandon his classist, romantic notions of piracy.

#Ive said it before #so much discourse hinges on the failure to interpret piracy as an inherently queer culture #which also hinges on the misinterpretation of what queerness even Is #izzy hands #actually autistic #classism

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nikutsuneart · 2 years

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I've been admiring your art, while consistently struggling myself to keep Sora and Riku's faces consistent...whether that's bc of emotion or angle or how soft their features are, I'm not sure. You'd think that after 2 decades of looking at these characters I could draw them properly.

Can I ask what facial features you think makes them distinct?

*RUBS MY HANDS TOGETHER* This is the best question you could have asked me and I am frankly STOKED to answer it (even if it took me a hot minute). It's something I've personally made notes of and have thought about a lot, SO! You came to the right dude.

For starters, it helps that Sora and Riku were made to be complementary. Riku was specifically designed counterbalance to Sora (as stated by Nomura in the KH1 Ultimania Gallery comments) and is something they’ve continued to lean into over the years. So thankfully it’s really easy to single their features out when compared to each other, specifically.

To boot, I have a lot of fun trying to boil down designs into an easily recognizable visual language just in general. Developing visual shorthand for a character, boiling them down to their bare essentials, etc. How low can we go? It’s a fun exercise and great for strengthening silhouettes!

And from what I’ve found, to put it simply; Sora is Round. Riku is Angular. Where Sora is short, Riku is Long! Like this;

Simple, right? You can tell which is which? Just zhuzh it up a little and you’ve got the boys!

Perfect.

While these are very simple examples, reducing them down and still being able to readily tell who is who even as little circles is the point! It let’s you know what to focus on as you shift from little caricatures to more detailed drawings at any level. And you’ll see how much these simple little rules/identifiers carry all the way thru!

Let’s start with their faces; Round vs Angular.

Soft vs Sharp.

Sora’s cheeks are more prominent and rounded, sloping lower on the face and pinching in to a smaller round, pointed chin. It makes his head look more round and short! His Jaw is also softer, less defined, which is an easy way to make somebody look youthful. (this is a tip I learned from tf2 actually?? lmao) He’s got a bit of that baby face!

With Riku, his cheek bones peak higher up and cut in cleanly down to a more prominent chin. This leaves a lot of space for his jaw which can make his head seem taller. It also affords his features more space which can serve to make someone look “more mature”. His jawline is also sharper and more defined, cutting inward compared to sora’s outwards slope. He’s just a handsome guy!

But it doesn’t stop there!

When it comes to their noses, I really like to lean in to the little things.

With Sora, I like to accentuate the upturn (hence the accent lines) but his nose is shorter and more rounded with a prominent tip pointing up and out. Some might call this a pixie nose

Riku’s is broad and straight (haha) and one of my favorite features of his. It’s a strong shnoz, longer than Sora’s and with a flat bridge. A detail of which I’ve always really liked and make sure to include. Gives it that strong handsome look.

I’m sure you’re getting the idea, but every feature follows these rules! Short and Long! Round and Sharp!

The eyebrows are something I feel always go missed, so I wanted to bring them up specifically. Riku’s eyebrows are longer and have a high arch to them as they wrap around his brow. Sora’s are short and much thicker towards the bridge before quickly tapering out.

You can see this along with their eyeshape a lot more clearly on their models. (Sora’s eyebrows are my favorite i love em I think they’re just the cutest thing. Really adds to his expressions, especially his pouts.)

What’s fun is that these are all things I’ve observed in official material in one way or another (namely Nomura’s art, the 3d models tend to round things out more.) Once you know what to look for, it’s easy to spot their consistent features. I’ve grabbed some fun examples;

Sora: upturned nose, round cheeks pinched in to a pointed chin, rounded jaw

Riku: Harder jaw, prominent chin, straight nose

You can see here how the curve of riku’s jaw goes in towards the face as sora’s goes out.

Riku: The Nose even more clearly, chin pointing out, and though mostly covered, you can see that strong jaw.

Sora: the same as above, really, but it’s consistent. Who says you can’t draw characters facing slightly to the left for a living.

You’re starting to see a pattern I’m sure.

And here you can see the flat bridge on riku’s straight ass nose! A flat of which Sora doesn’t have by comparison. You can also see here the different points their cheeks turn in, Sora’s being notably lower than Riku’s.

Anyway, you get my point!

For a generalized ending statement; Riku is always drawn with harder, yet graceful masculine features. He’s both very handsome and beautiful, wow. Package deal. Sora has a more boyish cheekiness. He’s got a baby face he’ll probably never outgrow along with other “cute” features. His can be a harder balance to strike, he’s cute but he’s also a dashing young man, a little charmer!

Focus in on those details n just remember compared to each other; Round vs Angular Short vs Long Soft vs Sharp They’re complimentary opposites, both in concept AND design! I love it!

I hope this was sufficient, kind anon. Good luck to everyone and I hope to see more strong Riku noses in the future.

#Kingdom Hearts #Soriku #sora x riku #tutorial #ask #maybe later I can do one about their body builds because they're also opposite and interesting and I've thought a lot about that too lmfao #i have a soriku phd #character study

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ladytauria · 6 months

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Trick or treat? :3

💜🧡💜 thank you fenris!!

so! this one is a snippet from my incbus!jason AU~ loosely based on a platonic batfam series (link), in which incubi feed on all emotions, but especially love/pleasure/etc. working summary:

Tim doesn’t let Jason touch him.

the basic set up is that the two of them are on an away mission, and Jason needs to feed~

it's actually almost done; i just need to clean it up / rewrite a few bits!

“You need to eat.”

“There are other food sources. Pain. Fear. Anger.” He pauses. “Lust.” Never mind how using lust to feed made him feel, or what memories it brought to the surface. It would sate him until one of the others was available.

Tim’s lips thin. “Because submerging yourself in those isn't going to mess up your head."

Jason sets his jaw. “I can control it.” He wants to be angry, offended, at the mere idea that Tim doesn’t trust him—but those emotions wither at the sight of the scar on his throat.

Tim huffs, waving a hand dismissively. "I know you can." Both tone and gesture act as if the opposite is ludicrous. "I’m not worried about your control, Jason. I don’t want you to—put yourself through something you don’t have to.”

There’s a part of Jason that melts at that. “You shouldn’t either,” he says, softer than he means to.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re forcing yourself to do this, but—”

“I’m not,” Tim denies again, more forcefully. “There would be no point. You’d know as soon as you touched me.”

That—is true.

When an incubus opened a bond, there was no hiding from them. Every emotion was on display, and though they could be dulled, suppressed, they couldn’t be fully hidden. Not even Bruce, with all his training and shields, could hide from Jason when he was feeding from him.

If Tim truly didn’t want Jason touching him, Jason would know as soon as the bond opened.

Jason still argues. “Don’t. Don’t make yourself do this, Tim. Not for me.”

Not after what he did.

Jason could still hear him screaming in his nightmares. Could smell his blood, feel it on his fingers. The worst of it was the acrid flavor of his fear and pain; the way the insecurities and doubt had swelled under his thrall. Tim had defied him, determination humming in his blood all the way to the end. Jason had crossed a line Tim never could—and he would bear that sin to his second grave, and possibly beyond.

Getting to know him just made it worse. Tim was funny, and kind, with clever fingers and fine-boned hands. He never shied away from Jason’s death jokes. He liked a good explosion almost as much as Jason, and after a fight, when he was pink cheeked and wild haired, he had a triumphant smile that made Jason want to kiss the rest of the breath from him—

—and he couldn’t.

Because he shot himself in the foot before he even knew he wanted to walk.

And now Tim sat here, across from him, and asked him to feed from him like Jason hadn't once twisted his deepest insecurities and doubts against him.

“Jason… I’m not making myself do anything.” Tim’s face softens. “It’s okay. You’re not the person who hurt me anymore. You’ve changed.”

He has. He knows he has. He’s worked hard at it, ever since he woke up one day and realized he'd become something, someone, he'd never wanted to. And somehow, that had ended with him being back in the bats' good graces again. Mostly.

He will never follow Bruce’s rule. He will never stop believing that sometimes, people need to die, and if he ever gets the chance, he’ll put a bullet through Joker’s head without hesitation or second thoughts. But he’s done trying to force Bruce’s hand, and Bruce is done trying to change him. They still fight over Jason’s choices, sometimes, but ultimately; Bruce has learned to live with it. Has said he trusts Jason—has let Jason feel it.

But just because he’s changed doesn’t mean the damage hasn’t been done. They’re never going to be close again. He’s never going to be able to lean on him, like he once did, and he’s never going to trust him fully, to keep him safe.

“It still happened.” Jason can never fully trust Bruce. Tim can never fully trust Jason. Actions have consequences.

“It did. But I’ve forgiven you, Jason.”

Jason wants to believe it. He does. But Tim is a liar, and a good one. He’s seen him lie right to Batman’s face without so much as flinching—and watched Bruce believe him. He still believes him. Hell. If Jason hadn’t known the truth, he probably would have believed him too.

Tim smiles at him, then, small and self-deprecating, and Jason itches to smooth it away. “The Tower has nothing to do with why I haven’t offered to feed you before. It’s—” He shakes his head. “You might be the one who never wants to touch me again, if anything.”

Jason very much doubts that. To say so out loud, though, would reveal how very badly he does want to touch Tim, and he can’t have that. “Tim…”

“Jason.” Tim meets his gaze. He’s not fiddling with his shirt sleeve anymore. His hands are still. His shoulders are back. His jaw is set. He isn’t going to budge, Jason realizes. Even if Jason convinces him to give it up tonight—which is looking less and less likely—he’ll be back again tomorrow. And the day after. Until Jason gives in, or they go home. Hell, he might keep it up at home, too. Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

“Fine,” Jason says shortly. He’s smart enough to realize when the only way out is through. He plops down in his chair, so close to Tim their knees are almost touching. “Give me your hand.”

#thank u for asking!#asks and answers #ragnarokhound #tauriawritesfanfic #so full of love i could barely eat #jaytim

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foxglovethicket · 2 months

Text

The Altar of Her Hips

Summary:

Cardan's POV during the scene in The Wicked King where he and Jude meet in the room behind the dais, except I added smut. Enjoy!

Chapters: 1/1

Read on AO3

The small green room off the dais is wet and alive.

I can nearly feel its heart thumping in time with mine; a syrupy, cunning pulse that presses in on us from all sides. Jude’s eyes strip it all bare as she takes in the moss-carpeted walls, ivy-laden door, clusters of gently-glowing mushrooms weeping pale light over our faces. I can practically see her tucking it all away for some nefarious later use.

It is quiet, the moss sucking away any softer sounds our shoes and breaths make. I take a step towards her and watch her flinch. I am a little delighted that I can still scare her; yet, some uncomfortable, nameless feeling itches my neck at the same time. I brush it away, irritated, and fish the letter from my pocket.

“My brother sent me a message,” I say. No longer is there any need to specify which one I speak of. I should resent her for that, but I am too busy resenting myself.

She takes the letter in callused fingers, careful not to touch me. That bothers me more. I am so irritable when it comes to her.

“So,” I prompt, “what have you been about?”

I want her to look at me. I want to have her on some kind of leash, as the letter suggests I should. I want to put my fingers around her neck and close them until I feel her windpipe pushed out of place. I want to push her and hurt her the way we all want to hurt small, delicate things, but Jude is hardly either.

Jude sighs in relief, a sweet, short exhalation that I want to take right off of her tongue. I want so much of her. I know by now I never get what I want.

“I stopped you from getting some messages,” she says. I flex my fingers.

“And you decided not to mention them. Just as you declined to tell me about Balekin’s meetings with Orlagh or Nicasia’s plans for me.”

“Look, of course Balekin wants to see you,” she says, in the same insufferable tone she used to use at school that suggests that I am very simple. “You’re his brother, whom he kept in his own house. You’re the only person with the power to free him who might actually do it. I figured if you were in a forgiving mood, you could talk to him anytime you wanted. You didn’t need his exhortations.”

It is fascinating to watch her justify it to herself. Fascinating, and infuriating. I snatch the paper out of her hands. “So what changed? Why was I permitted to receive this?”

Permitted. The concept of permission should have been lost to me the second the crown lay atop my head, but instead I am shackled to the whims of a mortal girl who’s learned too much from her foster father. “And I am supposed to reply to this little note?” I grind out.

She reaches out to swipe the paper back. Its corner slips against the side of my finger, leaving a thin red line. I bring my finger to my mouth, scowling and unreasonably angry, but she’s not looking at me. She is too drawn into her own head, scheming, to notice me. “Have him brought to you in chains. I’d be interested to know what he thinks he can get from you with a little conversation.” The paper curls as she shoves it into her pocket. So fucking proprietary. “Especially since he doesn’t know you’re aware of his ties to the Undersea.”

I can feel the lie hanging somewhere in the humid air between us. I want to bite it out of that space and spit it at her feet, call her bluff, make her kneel. I watch her thumb glide over her missing fingertip. Instead, I say, “I expect he will try to shout at me until I give him what he wants,” and I swallow it all down. I swallow everything down. “It might be possible to goad him into letting something slip. Possible, not likely.”

Jude nods, and I can see the map of her thoughts in the crease between her eyebrows. I want to press my thumb there.

I want, I want, I want.

“Nicasia knows more than she’s saying. Make her say the rest of it, and then use that against Balekin.”

I tuck down a harsh laugh. “Yes, well, I don’t think it would be politically expedient to put thumbscrews to a princess of the sea.”

She looks at me like she is analyzing a particularly strange beetle. “Not thumbscrews. You. You go to Nicasia and charm her.”

She stumbles over the words charm her but lifts her chin when she finishes speaking. She is embarrassed by the very notion of seduction. I’m embarrassed of her embarrassment.

“Oh, come on,” she says, doubling down because Jude has never once conceded anything. “You’re practically draped in courtiers every time I see you.”

She’s looking, an ugly corner of my mind croons. “I’m the king,” I say stupidly.

“They’ve been draped over you for longer than that.”

“You mean back when I was merely the prince?” I mock. I’m well aware of the reason everyone fawns. Of the reason Nicasia wanted me in the first place. I don’t know where Jude is going with this conversation but this room is too small, too hot for the ending.

“Use your wiles,” she says, and oh, she’s blushing magnificently. It feels like a triumph to witness it, the timid pink flushing her cheeks and her neck. I’m going to run this moment through my head very, very often. “I’m sure you’ve got some. She wants you. It shouldn’t be difficult.”

Jude spits those last two sentences like salt from her tongue. I nearly laugh, but it is too strange, too heavy, sitting in my chest. “You’re seriously suggesting I do this.”

It’s an effort to breathe like normal. Even Jude seems to struggle in this air, sucking it in heavy and deep. “Nicasia,” she says after a moment, “is the one who came through the passageway and shot that girl you were kissing.”

It sounds like an accusation when she says it. “You mean she tried to kill me?” I reply, half laughing even as my voice tilts high with frustration. “Honestly, Jude, how many secrets are you keeping?”

She looks away, tipping her head in a way that makes a triangle out of the mushrooms’ light and her nose’s shadow. “She was shooting at the girl, not you,” says Jude. She shifts her feet into a wider stance like she wants to run, and speaks the rest of her sentence very quickly. “She found you in bed with someone, got jealous, and shot twice. Unfortunately for you, but fortunately for everyone else, she’s a terrible shot. Now do you believe me that she wants you?”

“I know not what to believe,” I snap. A fresh wave of frustration boils up from my stomach, heating my fingers, and I clench them into fists. She is such a liar, such a—

“She thought to surprise you in your bed.” Her voice rises; she’s frustrated, too, though I can’t imagine why. I’m the one who got shot at with a crossbow, and I feel that we are paying entirely too little attention to that fact. “Give her what she wants,” says Jude, “and get the information we need to avoid a war.”

My feet move my body closer to hers. There’s a string tying our bodies together and she’s pulling at it, hard, with the way she frowns and furrows her brows and seethes at me with those horribly soft brown eyes, and then I’m standing before her, far too closely. The sensible bit of my brain that has been screaming at me to stay far, far away from Jude has gone suddenly, dreadfully, quiet; snuffed out like a candle pinched between the fingertips.

She’s so much shorter than me. I don’t mean to notice, but Jude is so unlike the folk that I can’t help it. Where we are tall and spindly, she is a full head shorter than me; I dip my head down to her ear and speak into the strangely round shell.

“Are you commanding me?”

“No,” she says quickly, genuinely surprised. Her eyes don’t quite hit mine before falling somewhere around my shoulder. “Of course not.”

With a distant horror, I watch my hand rise to her face, my fingers nudge at her chin until her eyes are back on mine.

“You just think that I ought to,” I say tightly. “That I can. That I’d be good at it.” I swallow away an uncomfortable, unnamable feeling that’s rushing up my throat. I’m angry, and something else, something worse. “Very well, Jude. Tell me how it’s done. Do you think she’d like it if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply into her eyes?”

My hand slides to the nape of her neck, where it grasps at the roots of her hair and tugs her head back.

“Probably,” Jude says warily. Her breath comes out a little more sharply, and I can feel her heart speeding up like she’s afraid. But she’s not. I see it in the widening black of her eyes, in the flush scattering up her neck, in the slight part of her lips before her tongue darts out to wet them. “Whatever it is you usually do.”

She wants me. She does. She must. And yet—she’d happily see me crawl back to Nicasia’s bed. And she’s lying, she’s always fucking lying, as if her body doesn’t betray her every single time. Would it kill her to just tell the truth one fucking time?

She would never, never admit to it. But I can make her. I am going to make her.

“Oh, come now. If you want me to play the bawd, at least give me the benefit of your advice,” I hiss. My words are sharp and cruel but my touch is gentle, skimming the edges of her face. I nearly get distracted by all the soft, round curves of her face. The desperately vulnerable fluttering of her heart in her throat, just under her jaw. “Should I touch her like this?”

“I don’t know,” Jude whispers. Her eyes flutter shut as my hands move, exploring the slopes of her shoulders, her ribcage, the small of her back. My mouth moves to her ear; I can’t stop myself from coming back to the shape of it. When my lips brush the skin there, I taste the salt of her skin and nearly groan.

“And then like this?” my mouth is saying. It’s functioning separately from me, at this point; all of me is focused on the newness of Jude’s body. I’ve never had a chance to study her like this. “Is this how I ought to seduce her? Do you think it would work?”

I am present enough to know I am not speaking of Nicasia any longer.

She trembles under my hands. Nothing so maidenly; she’s angry, she hates me that I’m not repulsive to her. I hate myself for it as well; she can dispense with the dramatics. “Yes,” she grits out. She is not speaking of Nicasia, either.

Our time in this green room has been all hot, sparking, strangled anger, an anger that we have each held onto for so tightly for so long that when my mouth meets hers, sans teeth, sans blood, I nearly startle myself into pulling away.

An agonizing millisecond passes with my mouth pressed to hers and our unbeating hearts lying still and red in our chests; then her fingers are sinking into my hair like a confession.

The moment of tenderness dies. Our movements are famished as we stumble across the room, gasping into each other’s mouths; when we reach a low couch, I put a hand on her back to ease her down. She digs her fingers into my tunic and pulls me down over her, so abruptly that I nearly fall, but catch myself on my hands with my face just over hers.

What am I doing, I think, distantly and a little desperately. Jude stares up at me as if she does not entirely trust me not to stab her. Whatever we are about to do, we probably should not. But we are both watching as we wreck each other anyway, neither of us moving to stop it.

“Tell me again what you said at the revel,” I say as I nudge her knees apart with my own.

“What?”

“That you hate me,” I croak. I am depraved. I should not want this. I should stand up now, before it’s too late, find someone else to distract myself with, but I know I will not. My stories do not end that way—with good sense, disasterless, happy. “Tell me that you hate me.”

Jude looks up at me with those wide brown eyes. I watch her lose the same doomed war with herself. She says, “I hate you.”

The frustration and anger in me turn hot and liquid.

Our mouths come together again, over and over. “I hate you,” she says into my mouth, and I feel like a mortal dancing in a faerie circle—caught fast in an enchanted reel until I dance myself to death. “I hate you. I hate you.”

She gasps onto my teeth, bites my lip. She says, “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.”

I am so fucking ruined.

I can’t hide it when I shudder against her. It’s too late for that, anyway. It’s too late for anything now.

My fingers are quick against the buttons of her jacket. I think I feel her stiffen, but when I sit back, she looks just as hungry as I do, making quick work of her top as I tear away my own jacket. I’m reaching for the hem of my shirt when she strips off her undershirt, revealing a swath of tan skin that empties my head of all thought save for an overwhelming feeling of want that dizzies me.

“This is an absolutely terrible idea,” I blurt out as I watch her fumble with her boots. I don’t even like her. She hates me. Surely, I can’t want her this much.

“Yes.” Her hands shake on the laces. She’s nervous. Afraid. Something. It unbalances me, the way she bares herself for me so readily, vulnerable and far too trusting. I don’t think she’s done this before.

In my dreams, the ones I wake from sweating, she’s done this many, many times.

I take her hand to still her trembling and press kisses to her knuckles like bruises. She almost flinches, as if they are.

It’s entirely too soft, and the realization scares me into dropping her hand in favor of touching all the skin she’s bared for me.

“I want to tell you so many lies,” I confess. I want to tell her I hate her. I want to tell her this means nothing to me. I want to tell her I would be happy to seduce Nicasia, thank you very much. I want to tell her how awful and loathsome and hideous she is.

I can’t.

I can’t stop myself from touching her, either. I watch, horrified, as my own traitorous hand slips over her thighs, then between them. I groan against my will at the slick, wet heat, entirely distracted by the feeling until her hands reach for my waist and I realize I’m still half clothed. I scramble out of my clothes and don’t think about how eager I am to go back to touching her.

Jude reaches for me. She slides her hands up my chest, then back down, and takes me in her hand like a dream. She strokes me once, almost hesitantly, and so softly, as if she is afraid of hurting me. We should stop, I mean to say. What comes out is a strangled, “More—Harder.”

To have Jude under me, doing as I say, is almost as heady a sensation as that of her hand as it works me. My fingers stroke her lightly, circling at the apex of her thighs. My eyes devour her as she begins to pant and push her hips up against my hand; she stares right back, her expression half a glare, half…embarrassment, almost.

It’s too much—too close. I want to make this last long enough to at least convince myself it’s not a horrific decision. I pull back, out of her touch before I can embarrass myself more than I already am just by—just by being here. She stills, watching my movements with the wide-eyed, careful intent of prey.

“Jude,” I say, lifting her leg and pressing my mouth to her ankle. I kiss up the length of her leg until I hit the crease of her thigh, the scattering of soft, downy hair that reaches towards it. She sucks in a breath and her whole body tenses, so tightly that I can see the muscle on her stomach shift. “Are you afraid of me?”

I put my tongue to her before she can respond. One long, slow lick, and I know right then that the taste of her is something I will never forget.

Jude shudders. Her hand shoots out to grip the roots of my hair, and she pushes me closer as I lay an open-mouthed kiss over her center, then another.

“Cardan,” she says, too sharply to be a plea, but that’s Jude; she is all sharp edges, never softness, except for here, now, under my tongue where she tastes electric and warm and new.

It’s clear Jude wants me to get to work if the strength of her grip is anything to go by, but I take my time to explore. Little licks at the crease of her inner thigh, the apex of her center, the tendon where her thigh and her pelvis meet. Jude writhes, panting under my touch, and this—this small control I have over her is nearly as heady as the taste of her.

“More,” she orders as my tongue skirts around the place she wants it most. Her hips buck up uselessly under my arms.

“Beg,” I say sweetly, and her answering growl makes delight unfurl in my stomach, hungry and unfamiliar. She could command me if she wanted to. The thought of it makes my skin tight and hot, sending all of my blood south.

I lay my cheek on her thigh and look up at her. She flinches when I meet her gaze, then sets her jaw and glares right back at me. Wariness still edges her frustration; I can feel it even more so when I smirk up at her and return my attentions to her center.

My tongue laves over her in broad licks now. I hear her strangle a noise in her throat as I push the tip of a finger into her body, and a rush of wetness coats my chin.

“Relax,” I coo, an attempt to maintain nonchalance while my brain empties at the tightness of her body around my finger. I grind my hips into the couch as if that could ever take the edge off. In truth, I am one breath away from finishing, and panicking at the realization of how good she feels, how right, when a part of me had been banking on this getting her out of my system, or—or something.

“Fuck,” Jude grits out, “you.” She relaxes infinitesimally and I am able to push in further, curl my fingertip against a spot that makes her arch off the couch and let out a small sound.

I lose all finesse, if I ever had any. I lick at her like I’m starved, groaning against her skin. Her hands dig into my hair, pulling harder and sharpening the pain at my scalp. I only want more.

“Jude,” I say, chant, plead. “Jude, you’re divine.”

“I hate you,” she tells me. “I hate you.”

The sounds coming from us are gruesome and slick and wanton; Jude does not moan, but her breaths become harder, sharper, messier—

When she throws her head back and comes, I think: I want to worship you.

She grinds into my face, using me to ride out her orgasm, and pushes me away when she becomes over-sensitive. Mechanically, I reach for her, wanting to watch her come again and again, but she grabs my face and pulls me up until her mouth is on mine. She licks the taste of herself out of my mouth and I etch the memory deeply into my mind. She will never let me do this again, and it has become the only thing I will ever want to do for the rest of my life.

“Let me—” She breaks off, bites her lip. Her nails sink into my shoulders. “Show me how you like to be touched.”

Hardly daring to believe this is real, I take her hand, maybe too tightly, as if I believe she’ll vanish into thin air at any minute. I put her hand on me, and my own hand over hers, guiding it—

And, fuck. Fuck. She grips me just this side of too hard as she strokes, as if she wants to hurt me. I know she does. But contrary to her probable intent, it feels divine. She stares up at me the whole time she touches me, the whole time I unravel under her, and I do unravel, I do, I’ve never felt such a tenuous control over my own self, and that whole time, something burns in her eyes like violence.

“You’re so good for me, Jude,” I say, pushing my luck as I fuck into her hand. “You feel so good, wrapped around me like that.”

Those eyes, cold and brown like winter leaves, like the shell of an acorn, soft like quicksand. I could sink right into them. I sink right into them. I don’t look away. Heat builds in my stomach, and all my muscles seize, and I come onto her stomach, her breasts, without looking away.

Just our damp breaths in the room, and quiet. She blinks away. I let my body collapse next to her on the couch, then reach for my discarded coat to wipe off her chest. It is sobering.

I don’t say I’m sorry, but the words are right there. I could say them if I wanted to.

Jude looks up at the ceiling. She likely regrets it. She hates me, anyway. Said it over and over, so I wouldn’t forget.

She sits up; I follow. She reaches for her shirt; I for my trousers. She looks unbothered, unchanged, unafraid. I keep searching her face for something else, but she’s so good at lying, not only with her words.

“You keep looking at me,” she says as she pulls on her underwear. Mortal underwear—light blue, lace trim, form-fitting. I will never, ever get them out of my head. And it hits me—that I could have had this. We could have had this. Had we not been so horrible to each other, we could have been doing this for so much longer, and I could have her on my tongue whenever I wanted, I could have her clever hands wrapped around me every day—

But it’s too late for that now.

“We should’ve called truce,” I say, frustrated, only one arm through a shirtsleeve. I run my hands through my hair as if I can clear it all away. “We should’ve called truce long before this.”

Jude says nothing. I know what we’re both thinking: there can be no truce, now. Not after everything we’ve done to each other.

#tfota #the folk of the air #jude duarte #jude x cardan #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #mine #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing

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krenenbaker · 5 months

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Diasomnia Character Songs and Associations

It's finally here! The end of the character songs and associations series! It took a bit longer to get out than I thought it would, but it's now finished.

Here is the seventh dorm, Diasomnia; the dorm of the spirit of nobility. The final of the seven, but also, interestingly, the dorm that started this entire idea.

Notes: Every song is from my liked songs playlist (so feel free to judge me for my taste, haha!) and I only allowed myself to use an artist once for this project. There is also some strong language and mature themes in some of the songs, so be aware if you choose to listen to them. I’ve included: - A song that represents them, - A song they'd listen to, and (for some) an additional song, depending on the character and circumstance

The full Spotify playlist for ALL songs and characters is linked at the end of the post.

Malleus Draconia

Represented by: Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus - Nicole Dollanganger

This song was actually what inspired me to make this series. It just reminds me so much of Malleus. The narrative setting is similar to the ruins he loves to explore, the music itself is somewhat ethereal, and the lyrics reflect the loneliness Malleus often feels, as well as his fear of loss and change. It's powerful, it's reflective, it's strange, and it's beautiful. Much like Malleus himself.

Listens to: Symphony No. 40 in G Minor, K. 550: IV: Allegro assai - W.A. Mozart, Sinfonia Varsovia, Yehudi Menuhin

Malleus likely listens to primarily classical music, and probably knows how to play many of the pieces he listens to. He would especially enjoy the playfulness of Mozart's compositions, as most Mozart pieces (operas, symphonies, etc.) have a light mood, and are usually filled with jokes. Absolutely perfect for a fae prince!

Lilia Vanrouge

Represented by: Phantasmagoria - Polkadot Cadaver

This song feels very Lilia to me. With a focus on (possibly?) playful scaring, and the uncertain or hidden origins of what people see. There's spooks and startles, but is generally meant to be fun... or that's what's assumed. The Avant-Garde metal genre also suits the unique, fun intensity of Lilia's character.

Listens to: After Life in Purgatory - Lock Up

Okay, I know that 'Lock Up' is grindcore, and not the thrash metal that Lilia canonically listens to. BUT he would totally also listen to music like this. It's fast. It's loud. It's full of screaming. Lilia would love it! (And he'd probably somewhat relate to the lyrics of this song too, considering his past...)

Bonus - Suggests for Music Club: Renewal - Veil

Lilia would suggest something like Veil to play in Music Club, arguing that it's more "gentle" and "approachable" for non-metal fans than some other subgenres, which, yes, that may be the case, but still... Cater would be a bit freaked out.

Silver

Represented by: イジメ、ダメ、ゼッタイ - Babymetal

Silver is an interesting character, being both gentle and fierce simultaneously, which is well-encapsulated in Babymetal's music. The lyrics to this song also are akin to Silver's worldview, and his wish for balance, harmony, and connection.

Listens to: Over the Edge - Sarah Jarosz

I think Silver would listen to softer music, probably a lot of folk, bluegrass, and country music. and, like Jade, he would especially love songs about nature and the outdoors. It just seems like it would suit him! However, I also think he shares a lot of his father's taste in music, resulting in some very strange playlists...

Sebek

Represented by: Soap - The Oh Hellos

Sebek seems to struggle a lot with his mixed identity, outright rejecting half of his heritage. (I think that's something he will learn to accept at some point in the future, and be able to become even stronger in himself and his identity as a result.) However, Sebek is also a bold, determined individual, and truly cares deeply for those he loves and respects... even if he may not outwardly show it.

Listens to: String Quartet No. 6 in F Minor, Op. 80, MWV R37: II: Allegro assai - Felix Mendelssohn, Quatuor Ébène

Because I think Malleus favours classical string music, I also think that Sebek would believe that he should also listen to similar music (as it is obviously superior!) And while he does enjoy many classical pieces, especially Mendelssohn's compositions, it would probably not be Sebek's preferred music in most situations, even if he does listen to it often.

Bonus - Prefers to listen to: Oscar Wilde Gets Out - Elton John

I'm not totally sure why, but I think Sebek would really like music by Elton John! I think that the softer pop rock sound would be something he would enjoy. Oscar Wilde Gets Out would definitely appeal to Sebek, for the literary allusions and references if nothing else.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst character songs #diasomnia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #krenenbaker's :)#krenenbaker's creations #ET C'EST FINI #gosh this took longer than I expected to finish #but it's done!!#^w^

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wolfiafuntime · 5 months

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You Believe in Santa?! | Obey Me Platonic HCs

Inspired by this weird half-joke I play on my sister every year, where I lie and tell her I believe in Santa. This has been going on for years now- I have NO clue how this started, and I'm in too deep to stop now... Also because I think(?) I've talked myself into thinking Santa exists; which is why I describe it as a half-joke.

Ft. The Demon Bros!

Tw: Mentions of Satan loving you but it can be read as platonic; You get called adorable; 1 mention of cancelling; Mammon slander (I'm sorry!!); Let me know if I need to add more!

Also, this is implied to be taking place in season 1 of the original game!

Published: December 9, 2023

Words: 3,500 (500 per bro)

Pages: 9.7 (1.4 on average)

Lucifer:

You know that face Lucifer makes whenever he's disappointed or tired? Yeah, he makes that expression when you tell him you believe in Santa. He can't tell if you're lying or not, which is odd for him because he can usually tell when you're lying; even if you're good at it.

"Do you actually believe that?" He'll inevitably question you. You'll tell him 'yes' with a cheery smile and chipper tone, but something about your behavior makes it difficult for him to fully believe you.

Whether you want to tell him the truth or not is up to you. If you do, and you ask him to keep your secret, he'll smile and agree. Although, chances are that he'll let Diavolo and Barbatos in on it. He might also tease Mammon when he inevitably starts to think Santa's real, too. But if you don't, he'll spend the next few weeks- if not, the entire holiday season- trying to figure out if you actually believe what you're saying. And while he's doing that, he's also trying to decide if he should tell you the truth or not.

If you're fifteen or below, he probably won't. If you're in your thirties or above, he probably will. And if you're in between, then he's probably going to try and let you down privately and softly. It all depends on how mature you usually act, and on how dedicated you are to keeping up this lie.

He's not gonna be happy when Solomon inevitably starts going around and telling people Santa's real. It doesn't matter if Lucifer's in on it or not. If he knows, he doesn't like it because Solomon's very shifty and he doesn't like having those kinds of people around his family. But he ultimately won't do anything to ruin your fun; he'll just tell you to be careful and keep an extra careful eye on you. But if Lucifer doesn't know, then he doesn't like it because he thinks Solomon's getting your hopes up, and he doesn't want you to be upset when you 'learn the truth'. In response, he'll corner Solomon in one of RAD's hallways and threaten the sorcerer into silence.

He'll be confused when he finds a gift from 'Santa Claus' underneath the tree on Christmas day. When he doesn't recognize the handwriting, he'll cautiously open the box, believing it to be some sort of prank. Only to be stumped when he finds what seems to be a custom blend of tea. Curiously, he'll brew himself a cup, only to spit it right back out upon tasting it. It was horrid. So much so that only one person could have made him the gift. Solomon.

The sorcerer's going to be in a world of pain soon...

Mammon:

"Pfft, Santa ain't real! If he was, then he would've given me a limitless credit card ages ago!" Mammon scoffs upon hearing you. If Lucifer's nearby, he'll immediately get a smack on the head. Still, he won't start feeling bad until he spots you pouting at him.

Your age doesn't matter. When you first start saying stuff like this, he's gonna be blunt and tell you that you're stupid. But if you keep it up, he'll slowly get softer and softer on you. Until, eventually, he stops telling you altogether. Keep it up some more, and with some help from Solomon, then he'll start to believe you're telling the truth. Maybe he'll to the conclusion that Santa only visits human worlders'. Did Solomon plant that thought? Maybe.

He doesn't care when the others tease him. He's be too busy being pissed at Santa Claus for only giving humans gifts when 'The GREAT Mammon is only one world away!' Starts scheming about how he can sneak his way into the human world Christmas night so he can finally get that limitless card he wants. And yes, he's forcing you to help him. He's gonna say it's only because you're from the human world, but everybody knows that's just an excuse.

He nearly gets to the human world. But as usual, he gets overconfident and brags about his plan in extreme detail. And as usual, Lucifer overheard and hung him upside down for the next day. You get strung up as well for helping him, but if Lucifer's not in on the secret, and you sorrowfully say 'but I wanted him to meet Santa...', then it'll only be for an hour. A side effect of saying this? Mammon starts feeling sad for you.

When he's finally let down, one of the first things he does is visit Solomon. He's not stupid, he knows Lucifer's keeping a close eye on him now. But he knows that Solomon has easy access to the human world, and with his age, he's surely met Santa before, right? So maybe the sorcerer could get the old man to write him a letter and make him a gift? To cheer you up!

He's pleasantly surprised on Christmas morning, when he discovers that Santa decided to make gifts for the whole family. He's a bit disappointed when he opens his present and discovers golden coins instead of a limitless card. But he perks back up when he realizes he's got fifty of them, with each being the height of his thumb! Excitedly, he contacted some demons he could pawn these off to... Only to be laughed at when one of those demons pulled the- fake- gold off to reveal it was actually chocolate!

To make things worse, they tasted horrible! Didn't you say only bad people get bad gifts?!

Leviathan:

He gives you a deadpan look, the words 'I can't believe I live with this normie' echoing in his mind. He's got half a mind to tell you the truth, but his perspective on things changes when he finds a new anime called 'I Used To Believe In Santa Claus, But Then My Otaku Best Friend Told Me The Truth Which Really Strained Our Relationship, And I Just Met An Elf And I Think I'm Falling In Love With Him, But I Don't Know What To Do...!' ('Santa Claus Belief', for short) which completely changed his perspective on things.

He ultimately decides not to tell you, or else he could risk losing you just like the Otaku in Santa Claus Belief did! Sure, the Otaku and the MC made up in the end, but that's completely different! He's, well, himself, and it's only gonna be a matter of time until that weird kindness of yours runs out and you abandon him. It's with this thought in mind that he doesn't even tease Mammon when he starts thinking Santa's real, too. This actually makes Mammon suspicious, but when he goes to check on his little brother, he gets nothing. So, he goes to you, Levi's Henry, and asks you to figure out the problem.

Getting him to admit his worries isn't hard. Just hang out with him in the safety of his room, and when the time is right, bring up how Henry and The Lord of Shadow are always honest with one another. Is it hypocritical? Yes. But when he finally admits his grievances to you, you start to feel guilty and tell him your secret. He gets a bit flustered at first, but he cheers up when he remembers how well you've tricked Mammon.

He can't help but join his brothers on teasing the secondborn after that. And sometimes, he teams up with Solomon to further mess with Mammon's head. Although, these are more spur-of-the-moment than planned.

Come Christmas day, and he immediately knows the present from 'Santa Claus' is actually from either you or Solomon. Curiously, he opens it, and is immediately ecstatic to find a chocolate Ruri-Chan figurine inside of it. He stays in that high for a while, until he realizes that it's only a matter of time until the figurine melts. To try and stop it, he goes and turns down the house's temperature to zero. And then he does it several more times, because everyone else keeps turning it up, until Lucifer threatens to give the figurine to Beel.

So, he goes to Solomon to get some sort of freezing spell that he can put on it. He's shocked when Solomon, a bit disappointed to find the figurine still intact, admits that he was the one who made it. Still, Solomon casts the spell, and Levi leaves; troubled knowing his beloved Ruri-Chan contains pure horrors.

Satan:

Becomes curious when he hears you still believe in Santa Claus. From the human books he's read, all humans learn the truth about Santa sometime in their early teen years. If not, a couple of years before then. So, he starts asking you why you still believe in Father Christmas. Naturally, you tell him it's because you've gotten a present from him every year without fail.

This sparks a conflict within Satan. With you being in the Devildom, far from the loved ones who'd no doubt been keeping this delusion of yours alive, you'd surely learn the truth... But that means you'd get your childhood dreams shattered on Christmas day. One of the happiest days of the year for humans.

With a heavy heart, he decides to tell you the truth a few weeks before Christmas, hoping that your mourning period would end before then. But when he does, you assure him of the opposite. And you do so while keeping your cheery mood; not even feeling an iota of wrath. He asks you about it, and you tell him that nearly everyone you've ever known during the holidays has tried telling you the same. It's here that he becomes fascinated with how resolute humans are- especially you.

He's tempted to try and use facts and logic to break through to you, but he ultimately decides not to. He loves you, and the thought of ruining your childhood memories makes him angry with himself. And the possibility of having to do it multiple times doesn't help. And so, he decides to go out and buy you a second Christmas present- one from 'Santa Claus'. He ends up buying you both presents, however, when he discovers a pair of magical books that allow for interdimensional communication! He wraps them both up and puts an illusion spell on the 'to's and 'from's to keep you from recognizing his handwriting.

However, come Christmas Day, he's incredibly confused upon finding a second gift from Santa. Sensing an illusion spell on it, he dissipates and instantly recognizes it to be Solomon's handwriting. Instantly, he's on guard. He's heard that the sorcerer's been helping keep your lifelong beliefs alive, which soothes some of his eternal anger. And the fact that he's apparently convinced Mammon that Santa is real brings a smile to his face. But Solomon's always got an angle, and he doesn't know how pretending to be Santa Claus and sending his entire family gifts will benefit him... But he decides to forget about it when he sees Lucifer spitting tea from 'Santa' into the kitchen sink.

Opening his present, he finds a book made out of candy inside of it. At first, he thought the only candy bit was the peppermint cover. But a note reveals it's actually made out of thin wax candy, and the words are written with food coloring.

Asmodeus:

He can't help but giggle when you tell everyone you believe in Santa Claus. He didn't know humans think that! And apparently, most of them grow out of it? Well, aren't you just adorable! Not as adorable as him, of course, but still adorable! So much so, that he makes a post about it on his Devilgram, with a selfie of the two of you to go with it. And if he sees any hate comments, then he's gonna cancel them and leave them for his... Rowdier, fans.

He wonders how you'll react when you don't get a present on Christmas day. Will you pout, or will you make up some sort of excuse to keep this fantasy of yours alive? It's for this reason that he, himself, pouts when he hears that the others are trying to bring you down to reality. And so, he goes to try and talk them out of it; making sure to be careful with his words. If you do become sad on Christmas morning, he'll for sure be there to cheer you up! But he knows that Lucifer would tie him up if his intentions were discovered, and he does not want his clothes to get messed up!

His opinion on Solomon also telling everyone that Santa exists? He finds it just as funny as he finds the rest of this situation. A simple conversation with the sorcerer reveals to him what he already knew: That Solomon doesn't really think Santa exists. But it doesn't reveal to him that you don't believe in Santa, either.

Another thing he can't help but laugh at is Mammon. He knew the secondborn was stupid, but he didn't know he was that stupid! His laughter grows when Solomon says that Mammon wants him to 'talk Santa Claus into making a quick trip to the Devildom'. While on the topic, Asmo gives Solomon some gift ideas for every member of the House of Lamentation... And then Asmo gives a bunch of gift ideas for himself.

His disappointment is immeasurable, come Christmas, and he finds Solomon used none of his gift ideas. But his day is not ruined! Especially when he discovers that all of 'Santa Claus's gifts are made out of candy. Even more so when he discovers that his gift is a small assortment of extravagant candy jewelry. A, because the gift isn't going to waste because he'll simply wear it. And B, because it gives him the perfect excuse to hold a photo shoot! And yes, you're gonna be included in some of the photos. You're the reason why he got such a magnificent gift in the first place!

When the day comes to an end, though, he wonders how Solomon chose everyone's presents. He knows the sorcerer isn't close enough with them to know their preferences, nor would he care enough to remember them...

Beelzebub:

Hm? You say Santa Claus is real? Does that mean he only gives gifts to those in the human world? He's very close to fully believing you, with his only saving grace being Belphegor, who tells him the truth... But then Solomon starts saying Santa's real, and he starts doubting Belphie. Yes, he feels slightly guilty for doing so. But at the same time, both you and Solomon are from the human world. Meanwhile, Belphegor has been ignoring the realm's existence for hundreds of years now.

Chances are that he's gonna start believing in Santa before Mammon does. Unlike Mammon, though, he's not going to get mocked... Mostly because no one's surprised. Don't get them wrong, they aren't unsurprised! But Beel's just got that vibe, you know? What with how dense and food-orientated he usually is.

But Beel believing Santa's real isn't definitive in this headcanon. Because there's an equal chance that Belphie talks him out of it a second time. When this happens, he'll be disappointed. Not extremely, but enough that he decides not to tell you the truth. And he'll ask the others to do the same. After all, if he was sad after learning Santa's not real when he only thought so for a few days (a week at most), then how'd you feel after thinking that for over a decade?

But if Belphie can't talk him out of it, then Beel's going to help Mammon talk Solomon into talking Santa into coming to the Devildom (Boy, was that a mouthful...). And while he's there, he asks that Santa bring him a gingerbread house the size of the HoL.

Either way, he's super excited when he smells the Christmas tree smelling like a buffet on Christmas morning. It takes all of his willpower to keep himself from eating both the tree and all of the presents. But thankfully you spot him struggling and hand him his first gift; a circular box signed by Santa. He's actually a bit disappointed at first, because while he smells sweets inside, the box is awfully small when compared to him. Too small to properly feed him, which leads the poor boy to believe he'd done something naughty.

Thankfully, however, he turns his frown upside-down when he unwraps the gift. A nice-looking cookie tin with a note on the lid: 'I know that you've got a bottomless stomach, so I made you this! Just put the ingredients for a batch of cookies inside of it, wait ten minutes, and you'll have a batch of cookies ready to eat!' And luckily for him, they don't taste horrible!

(Also, the day before Christmas, he bakes a batch of cookies with you! If Beel thinks Santa's real, then he does his best to not eat them all. Mostly because he believes Santa's power comes from eating cookies!)

Belphegor:

Father Christmas? Kriss Kringle? Saint Nick? Who are they and why are you rambling about them and Santa..? That's right, he doesn't know that much about Santa Claus. He's been ignoring humans and avoiding everything that wasn't their suffering since he fell into the Devildom. If he heard about Santa, then he probably erased it from his memory after scowling about how humanity had something so nice; real or not. And the others probably kept their mouths shut to keep from upsetting him.

So at first, he thinks that Santa's real, too. But he quickly learns otherwise when the others start poking fun at you, and even straight-up tell you that you're wrong. Curious, he asks you about him. And after hearing all your tales, he goes to Satan to get some books on him. He can't help but laugh when the fifth-born confesses that he gets a bunch of sloppily written letters from human kids this time of year. Belphie's always been curious about it, but has always been too tired to ask.

He doesn't blame Beel when he starts thinking Santa's real. After all, with all of the different kinds of spells, there's surely a perfect combination that would allow someone to do what Santa can do. Like stalking spells, time slowness spells, teleportation spells, and more. However, the power needed to deliver gifts to half of humanity in a single night would take Lucifer-level power. And he doesn't blame you for thinking Santa's real, either. At least, not entirely. After all, children grow up believing in him. But you were supposed to learn the truth years ago. But despite being told the truth who knows how many times, you've consistently refused to listen to it. He tries a couple of times himself, but quickly gets frustrated and gives up...

Until he overhears you and Solomon talking, that is. He was napping on a bench at RAD, so the two of you must've thought it was safe. But unfortunately for you, he'd awoken earlier than expected. This is something he doesn't bother hiding, and something else he doesn't hide is how funny he finds your and Solomon's faces. When his laughter dies down, he semi-playfully demands something from the both of you to keep your secret...

He has to keep himself from smirking on Christmas morning. Especially when he spots Beel drooling and gazing at the tree with hunger. He's curious to see how long his twin will last, but unfortunately you spot him, too. But he doesn't let that get him down, and insteads opens his gift from Solomon. There, he finds a gingerbread scented neck pillow with a note telling him it's enchanted to shrink and grow whenever he pushes and pulls on it.

(He's not able to catch all of them, but he finds the others' reactions to their gifts hilarious!)

Masterlist

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