#also part of the realization that Chokers Are Very Pretty To Me .

[rhine-gold-archive]

sub xiao lingerie plssss everything u do with him is magic

Sub! Xiao x GN Dom! Reader 

Warnings: not sfw, fingering, obviously lingerie, praise kink, nipple play, edging, cockwarming, very slight degradation (like a single name calling), anal sex (cock stand for both dick and strap as usual)

A/N: this is not “Xiao is a mewling mess from the get go”, though we get there, trust me, but there’s a tsundere character development arc first. I planned it as a quick lighthearted thing and it kinda got away from me. Modern AU? sort of??? Just to have texting.

Wordcount: 2,3k

You have to leave for a few days for the first time since you started dating Xiao, and you know already that it’s very hard for him to form connections, but when he does, the attachment is incredibly intense and important for someone as lonely and self-hating as he is. He’s predisposed to feel abandoned even if he’d never admit and he rationally knows it’s not true.

So you decide to make him a cute surprise gift, as both a distraction and a token of affection. At first, he doesn’t take it well AT ALL.

“What is this? Some sort of a joke? If so, I find your mortal sense of humor lacking once again.”

“I just think it would look cute on you, baby <3”

You know already that arguing with him or answering with sarcasm is both tiring and unproductive. He is perpetually looped in a cat’s paradox, just as cats, god’s perfect killing machines, adapted to be house pets and want to curl on human laps and be scratched behind the ears, Xiao, a stoic yaksha general, is trapped in a touch-starved body with an easy blush and a sensitive cock. It’s just that unlike cats, he has to go through twelve steps of denial and grief before accepting it.

“Cute? That is the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard. How disrespectful of you to suggest to an adeptus to wear this, let alone a yaksha like myself, a weapon drenched in tainted blood for a millenium.”

“I *KNOW* it will look cute on you, little bird. Send pics when you try it on!”

He doesn’t deign to answer because there’s no dignified way to type out “Hmpf.” The absolute gall of your suggestion does not even warrant a reply. He spends the entire day quietly fuming about how OBVIOUSLY it would NOT look cute on him. In the evening, he unpacks it just to spite you so you can’t return it. And also just to see for himself how absolutely STUPID this idea is.

And it is stupid! The lingerie is so ridiculous and uncomfortable. The white high thighs that are so idiotically hard to put on and leave an unreasonable gap of flesh between the flimsy panties, which are sitting low on hip bones, barely covering even soft cock, not to mention… And the transparent little top, clinging so obnoxiously that the peaks of the nipples are visible. And the tiny lacy choker is so useless, so extraneous, such an obvious waste!

Of course, he doesn’t tell you that he tried it on and he doesn’t take pics. He spends the night, tossing and turning under the covers, intrusive images of you looking at him dressed like that, hungrily, calling him pretty, sliding hands down his legs, almost rolling the tight stockings down, squeezing his crotch under a thin, silky layer of underwear while your lips are roaming over his arched neck, your finger hooked under his choker…

He doesn’t touch himself because he refuses to admit images like this could arouse him, so the next morning he’s restless, high strung, horny and unsatisfied after what was basically edging himself for the entire night, and so his judgment starts becoming cloudy, searching for the “acceptable” ways to fall to the temptation. The part of him that wants this, wants you to want him like this and praise him for looking like this, is getting more and more insistent, but he still can’t admit it to himself, and so he subconsciously commits a sleight of hand. SURELY, you wouldn’t actually think this looks good on him, and so if you see it, you’d realize what a foolish mistake you’ve made and the question would be closed forever, so he wouldn’t need to feel conflicted anymore. And so obviously, the solution is to send you a pic, but, you know. Not the great looking one (though it’s not like something like this could even theoretically look great on him, of course), and making sure it’s visible that he doesn’t care and is, in fact, disdainful of the idea, and is only doing this so you can regret even suggesting it.

So he spends quite a lot of time and effort on taking the most bored and low investment-looking selfies possible, sends a couple of them to you with “And this rubbish is what you find attractive?” comment, immediately regrets it, throws the phone down on the bed and is on the verge of trying to delete the pics, when you reply, ecstatic, telling him that yes, of course he looks incredibly hot like that. He answers “Then you have a bad taste,” throws the phone down again, blushing violently and already with a hard-on. 

When you send encouraging praises, telling him to greet you like that when you come back, he refuses vehemently, but the sweet warmth pools deep in his belly and he can’t meet his own eyes in the mirror for the rest of the night. He’s used to thinking of himself as a weapon, built for battle first and foremost, with strength and mastery in a fight as his only valuable traits, and even your attraction to him he sees as a fortunate, but weird quirk of your character, an unusual preference. But the lingerie makes him feel pretty in a way that has nothing to do with strength, the idea of being seen as straightforwardly beautiful is so tempting, but clashes with his perception of self so radically that he cannot reconcile this easily.

He might have resisted the corruption for hundreds of years, but it only takes a couple of lonely nights for desire to break his resolve. So when you finally arrive and walk into the bedroom, he’s in lingerie, kneeling on the bed, looking away both from you and the reflection in the wall mirror on the side. 

You drop your bags on the floor, walk up to him and kiss him, push him down on the bed, while he’s blushing and still refusing to meet your eyes. You catch his chin and force him to turn his head.

“Look at me, my pretty little bird.”

He does, his golden eyes unfocused and half-lidded over, and can’t look away anymore, as you ravish him from neck to stomach, cover him with kisses, on the exposed skin and through the silky fabric, while he’s squirming under you and watching, transfixed, feeling sweetly weak and precious like he didn’t know he could. You hold his gaze when you draw your lips from his prominent hipbones down, lick at the strip of skin over the band of panties while he takes the rugged breaths, and when you finally kiss his bulge through the thin lace, he shudders, melts under your touch and whines needily, even though his words are protesting.

“No, wait, I’m close…”

You move up to kiss him and give him a slight respite, but your hand slides down, moving the fabric of underwear away to lightly tease his hole, and he comes just from that, moaning against your mouth and arching with a shudder, his legs closing over your hand. You chuckle, keep massaging his pulsing entrance.

“You came just from that, huh? You really did miss me then.”

He blushes brightly and doesn’t look you in the eye, still tight and nervous like a virgin when you slide your fingers in, it’s like the first time no matter how often you fuck him until he’s screaming.

“Don’t worry, I won’t punish you for coming without permission. You’ve been so good, I can’t blame you for being excited to look so pretty for me.”

It shouldn’t be physically possible for him to blush even brighter, but he manages.

“I wasn’t… I’m not.”

There was always something endearing about the ridiculousness of his denials while he’s sprawled under you, being fingered, toes scraping at the bedsheets, but with time it turns exasperating. It’s easier for him to avoid confronting his own desires if he pretends this is just for you, so he hides in the passivity of submission, allowing you to do what you want to him so that he doesn’t have to admit how badly he wants it too.

“Oh, you’re not?” you ask with deceiving softness, turning him over and sliding into him with your cock\strap. “Not even a little bit?” your tone turns teasing as he groans in desire, but you don’t fuck him, instead, you pull him up to settle in your lap, his back against your chest, your cock buried deep inside him. His hips buckle against yours, but you grip his thigh to still him with one hand and catch his chin and force him to look in the mirror with the other.

“Oh no, dear, you’re not getting it until you admit you want it,” you whisper into his ear, meeting his agitated golden eyes in the mirror. “Until you admit you like looking like this too..”

He bites his lip, glancing over his own reflection, he looks ravished and debauched, bright blush, lingerie pieces sitting askew, thighs in lacy stockings trembling open, cock getting hard again, it’s outline visible under the panties, still damp from him coming just now.

“Does it feel good, baby?” you ask quietly, trailing sloppy hot kisses down his neck. His eyes are lidding over, long black eyelashes trembling and he answers, a barely audible “Yes…”

“Good boy,” you kiss him in encouragement. ”See, it isn’t hard to tell the truth, is it?” you slide your hand under the flimsy layer of his top, thumb at his nipples. He grunts, his head rolling helplessly back to your shoulder, his legs spreading even wider open. You play with the sensitive pink buds until he’s squirming in your lap, arching against you so that your dick inside him is bulging slightly through his stomach and the swollen head of his own pretty cock is peeking from under his little panties and leaking on the lace. “And don’t you want more?”

“Yes…” he lets out with a shudder, both being horrified at what he sees in the mirror and not being able to look away, torn between the life-long belief this isn’t for him and an undeniable, sharp pleasure, a humiliating, shameful weakness that feels so good, so sweetly intoxicating.

“How could you even try to pretend, when you’re undone before I even touched your pretty cock?” you chuckle and press your palm against his crotch. He whines, clenching around your cock, ruts helplessly against your hand, losing the last shreds of control.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking hot like this. I’ll fuck you so good and hard right now, just ask.”

He arches in your lap, presses his head against yours, his mouth half-open, his hot and rugged breaths on your lips while his heart is racing in his chest.

“Please,” he whispers, low, choked, feverish like gasping for air while drowning. “Please, I can’t take it anymore, please…”

You kiss him, then throw him down on the bed and ram into him. He screams and keeps screaming while you fuck him, hard and fast, gripping his hips covered in lace, telling him how good he looks until his screams turn into shuddering, breathless whines. You grip black hair at the back of his head and pull him up again, force him to look up. He lost control and composure completely at this point, red eyeliner running at the corners of half-lidded glittering eyes, ruffled green-black hair, mouth falling slack open and trying to catch air.

“You love this, don’t you?” you slide your free hand down his arched body, ride up the transparent top, run fingers over the bulge in his belly and down to the open, shaking thighs, and this time he doesn’t hesitate to answer, too far gone to care. 

“Yes!”

“You like being a pretty slut for me?” You kiss him and grope his throbbing cock as he’s bucking his hips against you, trying desperately to fuck himself.

“Yes!”

“Then come for me, baby, like a good little whore.”

He comes writhing in your arms, his hand gripping at your wrist where you hold his hip, and you fuck him through it, whispering praises and kissing the back of his neck. When he calms down and you slide out, move to take now ruined pieces of the lingerie of him, he at first tries to protest and do everything himself, as usual, but when you insist, gives up surprisingly easily, lets you slide it off him and then gently wipe him with a warm damp cloth, while he’s laying on the pillows, blushing and limp-limbed. He feels raw and tender all over, but in a good way, and when you pull the covers over him, their touch feels somehow overwhelming in their softness against his naked skin.

He curls against you in the nest of tangled blankets, warm and tired, feeling at the same time extremely vulnerable and hidden from the whole world.

“Sorry for ruining the lingerie,” he says quietly and you laugh.

“Oh, it’s nothing, it was absolutely worth it, baby.”

“Was it?” you can feel his cheek heating up when he blushes, but his voice is  anxious.“I’m far from suitable for such things, so…”

“Hush. You are the prettiest thing I’ve laid my eyes on, you’ve looked stunning in this, and I cannot wait to get you ten new sets.”

“Hmfp. Then you are truly delusional,” he says fondly and rubs his cheek against your shoulder. That night, Xiao lays there quietly in a circle of your arms, and despite being exhausted, resists falling asleep for as long as he can, basking in a feeling of, for once instead of an expendable weapon, being cherished and protected himself.

#rhine writes filth #xiao #xiao x reader

[possamble]

What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

#asks #she could easily be interpreted as distant or neglectful after Donato's death too #with how little involvement she has in Marcille's life/the fact that Marcille doesn't even mention her when talking about her life prospect #and that's fair! I will argue to hell and back that she was a loving parent when Donato was alive #but there's nothing that suggests she remained a loving parent afterwards #I just think that like... parental relationships are so complicated in dungeon meshi #you cannot deny that the toudens' mother loved them dearly but that she failed them both miserably as a parent #and i think it'd be more compelling if Marcille's mother was a little like that too #not a totally and easily dismissable deadbeat #but someone who truly loves her daughter but was only human herself and couldn't be what Marcille needed at a crucial moment #and regrets it deeply #and that the distance between them is mutually self-imposed by complicated feelings of guilt and fear #and a little resentment from Marcille's side that she hasn't really properly processed #I don't know if I'll ever get around to writing it but i had this idea where Marcille does finally spill the beans to her mom and she just #immediately arrives in Melini #and its awkward for a bit but they do finally have a heart to heart and air it all out #and marcille starts freaking out that her marriage is rocky rn bc her new husband wants her to distance herself from marcille #on account of the crimes and all #marcille's like no you can't blow up your marriage for me and her mother just shuts that shit down #'you didn't choose to be born. i was the one who made that choice for you' #'i brought you into this world and i'll be damned if i don't take responsibility for that the entire way' #'you are entitled to *nothing less* than my unconditional love.' #and obviously that's not a sentiment that's exactly healthy as a universal statement about parenthood #but i think its what her mother would believe and what marcille needs to hear #and dungeon meshi does such a fantastic job at just... letting imperfect things just *be* without having to justify it immediately #it expects the audience to do their own critical thinking #and know that its not trying to make sweeping universal statements in every instance #marcilleposting #marcille donato

[imtrashraccoon]

This mans be giving me so many ideas. I love him so much!

Future Trash Edit: The awesome @teasworldstuff made some beautiful fanart for this chapter! Check it out here!

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Nightmare - Formal

Word Count: 1,561

You were standing in what was best described as a grand hall. The floor was covered in a red carpet and the curtains over the large windows were a darker shade of red. There was a fancy chandelier hanging from the very center of the ceiling, an elegant grand staircase, a long buffet table, and a wide open area at one side of the room that served as a dance floor.

Looking down, you quickly discovered that you were dressed in an outfit that was far from anything you'd ever imagined owning, let alone wearing. It was a floor length silver ball gown with sheer sleeves and plenty of tule. Frankly, it was gorgeous and you couldn't help but do a little twirl to see how pretty it really was. You also had sliver chain bracelets on both your wrists, a velvet black choker around your neck, and a pair of black heels.

Hearing soft footsteps, you looked up and saw Nightmare at the top of the grand staircase. He was also dressed formally, wearing a three piece plum coloured suit and expensive looking leather dress shoes. He was still wearing his gold moon circlet although he seemed to have some fancier gold rings this time, many of which were encrusted with brilliant precious stones. The four tentacles you'd noticed the first time you saw him were noticeably absent though.

He descended the stairs slowly, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. You couldn't help but feel entranced by how regal and elegant he was carrying himself. He looked like he could easily blend in with high society if he wanted to.

"Good evening, my dear," he said in that same velvety tone of voice once he'd reached the bottom of the stairs.

Your tongue felt heavy and for a moment you couldn't speak. You knew this was a dream but with how he'd just spoken to you and how beautiful this place was, you felt like you'd stepped into your favorite historical romance show. It didn't help that recently you'd realized you had a thing for oddly handsome skeletons.

Finally, you managed to clear your throat and find your voice again. Giving a bit of a curtsey, you smiled and greeted him in return. "Good evening..."

He smiled as he walked over, stopping a foot or so away, and offered his arm to you. His demeanor seemed almost genuine but you got the feeling that this was more of an act than anything on his part, albeit a very good one.

You hesitated for a moment but accepted his offer and linked your arm in his own. He began to guide you over to the dance floor and you followed willingly. This whole situation felt so bizarre though.

"Is the outfit to your liking?" he asked and glanced over at you. "You seem a bit tense, my dear."

You felt your cheeks grow warm from embarrassment and nodded. "Sorry, I just don't dress up often...and I'm not used to wearing anything this long." Not wanting to seem rude though, you quickly added, "I love the colour though."

He hummed softly and his cyan eyelight briefly flicked over your body before he looked away. "My apologies, I'll take that into consideration for next time."

You were left wondering what the extent of his knowledge was when it came to fancy clothing like this. You could picture him knowing quite a bit considering he seemed like the type to enjoy the finer things in life. Also, was he planning to do this again?

"Forgive me if this sounds too forward but I feel I would be remiss if I said nothing."

You looked over at Nightmare in a curious way.

"You are rather gorgeous, my dear. I imagine you must get quite a few compliments on your appearance, or am I wrong?" he continued to say.

You were certain your cheeks had turned a bright pink as a result of his comment and reflexively ducked your head out of embarrassment.

"No, at least none that are flattering..." you murmured. "A lot of men tend to catcall me or make other lewd comments."

He clicked his non-existent tongue in a disapproving manner. "That's a shame...they clearly don't deserve your time or attention, dear."

You didn't know what to say in response. He was right, but the comments still bothered you and it wasn't always as simple as ignoring them. Most guys that would subject you to those things were also the type to pursue you and not take no for an answer.

"Do you know how to dance?" Nightmare asked, changing the subject and bringing you out of your thoughts.

You shook your head, "Not really."

He tilted his skull and an amused expression flickered across his face. "It's fairly simple. I could show you how if you'd like?"

As he spoke, he started to guide you into a waltz and you followed to the best of your ability. Your heart was fluttering in your chest at how close you were to him and how magical this moment felt. Still, your movements were stiff in comparison to his effortless, smooth ones.

He seemed to notice how nervous you were and leaned closer to you. "Relax and try to enjoy yourself, my dear. It's only a dream afterall, so you might as well have fun, am I right?"

You nodded and took a deep breath to try and ease your nerves. It was only a dream. When would you ever get to experience something like this again? Sure, you were currently dancing with a god, but he really gave off those mysterious dark stranger vibes that you secretly loved reading about. So why not just forget everything you dealt with on a daily basis and enjoy this short moment?

You started to lose yourself in the motions as you both danced together. Well, that is until Nightmare suddenly stopped dancing and pulled you closer, holding your body against his own. His cyan eyelight stared deep into your eyes and for a moment, you thought you could see a brief glimpse of the power he held.

Not only had he crafted two gorgeous dreams so far but he was obviously capable of a lot more than that. He could have subjected you to actual nightmares instead but he wasn't. So why was he being so nice?

He released his hold on you as if nothing had happened and guided you over to a comfortable couch that you hadn't previously noticed. You gratefully sank into the plush cushions and took a deep breath to calm your beating heart. While dancing with him had been fun, you were feeling a bit faint from both how anxious you'd been and how close he'd been holding you. There was only do much your poor heart could take.

After a moment, Nightmare hummed in a thoughtful way. "May I ask what kind of formal outfit you would be most comfortable in?" he asked.

You tilted your head as you pondered his question. "I think either a knee length dress or a blouse and skirt combo. It's most similar to what I wear for work but I guess neither of those would quite fit this dream."

He nodded in agreement. "Would wearing something so similar like that remind you of your job and only serve to distract you?"

You blinked in surprise. You hadn't thought about that at all and now that you were, he was probably right.

Glancing over at him, you nodded slowly. "Probably... I don't like my job very much so it would be distracting."

"Then it's a good thing you can see what it's like in this dream, isn't it?" he commented.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

After a moment of silence, you fully turned to look at him. "Nightmare? Um, can I call you that or...?"

He nodded and motioned for you to continue speaking.

Feeling slightly bolder, you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. "I know from what the boys have told me that you aren't known for being nice without a reason. So, why did you create this dream? And why are you trying to get to know me like this?"

He smiled and gave you an amused look. His tone became quieter and even more gentle as he started to answer. "I mentioned this yesterday but in my eyes, you are clearly exceptional as far as humans are concerned. I'm just trying to figure out what exactly sets you apart from all the others."

When you frowned slightly, he added, "And I'm not referring to your Intent either. I want to see why you choose to act the way you do."

He lightly ran his phalanges over your cheek and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. "I'll see you soon, my dear..." he murmured as he went to stand up

The last thing you remembered was the way his permanent grin quirked up at the edges and how his good eye socket narrowed in a way that sent chills down your spine. Then, you were waking up in your bed once again with a fluttering feeling in your soul.

He seemed to have the ability to toy with your emotions... Why else would he know exactly what to do to tug at your heart strings? He was definitely dangerous...

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dreamtale #nightmare sans #nightmare #nightmare x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

[littlefroginthegarden]

Sold to Heartsteel 5/24

look at part 1 for tags (also you should obv start there with reading)

now this is starting to go somewhere! im having so much fun writing the boys! :)

Part 5

It doesn’t take me long to unpack as I only have my most important things with me. After putting my clothes in one of the drawers, I set my laptop and graphic tablet down on the couch table and put my makeup in the bathroom. With more than half an hour left, I decide to change since I’m still in my school outfit. I put on some black skinny jeans, an oversized band shirt (not Heartsteel, that would be cringe), black with blue accents and a thin choker. I’m a little bit hyped to finally use the huge mirror in the bathroom to do my makeup. With practiced motions I do quick smokey eyes with a gradient from turquoise to black (you might have picked up on a pattern by now). When I’m just about to finish the second one, I hear a soft knocking from the door.

“Give me a few seconds, I’ll be right there!” I yell and the knocking stops. I quickly finish the second eye and lean back for a second to assess my work. It looks pretty good so I turn around and quickly open the door. Aphelios is waiting in front of it, leaning against the wall. He looks at me with a smile and then turns, leading me to the stairs. I follow him nervously, suddenly realizing what is going to happen.

We descend into the entrance hall from earlier and from there through one of the mysterious doors. As soon as he opens the door, I can hear voices, laughing and chatting with each other. I can’t see who they belong to yet but I know who we’re supposed to meet and my heart sinks. The room is L-shaped and seems to be a living room. There are posters on the walls, many warm lights, some plants and when we round the corner, I can see an absolutely massive couch. With the rest of Heartsteel lounging on it. It takes everything to keep myself from squealing and I try to hide a bit behind Aphelios who snaps his fingers to get attention.

Everyone turns around and looks at us. Aphelios signs something to the boys and they grin at me, seemingly excited to meet me.

“Hwei! Nice to meet you, dude!” Sett yells, giving me a little wave with his massive hand. I’m still just nervously smiling, not sure what to even say.

“Hey, you can come over, there’s more space on the couch, sit with us!” K’Sante says, giving me a fatherly smile. I slowly move towards them, Aphelios following me.

K’Sante laughs and pushes Kayn to the side, who gives him a “fuck you!” but is grinning the whole time. I sit down between them, making myself as small as possible, worried about making someone uncomfortable by being too close or something. I look around and see Sett pulling Aphelios towards him by his hand, sitting him on his lap and holding him tight. Aphelios slightly blushes when he sees me watching so I look away. In between me and them there’s Kayn, who sits there sunken deep into the couch, his body tilted towards me, arm casually draped over the couch’s backrest, looking at me with no attempt at hiding his curiosity. I quickly turn my head before going completely insane. I mean I just met all of my idols. And they’re all staring at me. K’Sante next to me is just sitting there relaxed, looking into the round, clearly trying not to make me as nervous. 

I nearly jump when someone taps my shoulder and my head spins around to look at the boy around my age who sits on the backrest. He has similar hair as me, just a bit brighter. He gives me a big grin and says “Nice hair!”

“thank you” I quietly stammer, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Aww you’re so shy, it’s cute!” he laughs and my face is probably beet-red by now.

“Stop bullying him, Ez.” Yone hasn’t said anything until now but I’m so glad he’s pulling everyone’s attention onto himself. Not that I minded Ezreal's teasing, it’s just all very overwhelming right now.

#heartsteel #ezreal #yone #kayn #sett #aphelios #ksante #hwei #league of legends #riot games #riot games music #heartsteel headcanons #hwei pov #hwei x heartsteel #not gonna tell you who though hehe youll have to find out i guess #heartsteel mlm #transmasc character #this is just a trashy fun little project #dont take it too seriously

[tryingthisfangirlthing]

Imma be cheeky: When The Blurred Line Breaks and Fobwatch And a Sapphire Stuffed Choker. (I need to know how they end. XD)

*chuckling* I suppose that's fair. I'll give you some hints. ;3 They are both still on my "these will haunt me until I finish the damn things, and I do not consider them abandoned" list. But they are also on my "being very obstinate about the next part, in particular" list, too.

When the Blurred Line Breaks

As you've noted, Helen seems inclined to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. She's certainly been vulnerable in a way she's not used to, not with Nikola, and I don't think either of them know how to navigate that very well. Emotional, snappish conversations, hard to write.

Of course, this piece was always intended to slot into canon, to take them more or less to where we find them in S1 of the actual show. Nikola's borderline antagonism, Helen's wary, exasperated tolerance that turns to something like horror when faced with what he's been up to. So they're not going to end in a good place, I'm afraid, and I think knowing that is also part of what's blocking me from writing the rest, because there's very little that's fun about the rest.

Irritable early morning, a slow, torturous, snowy drive up to the safehouse, and a fraught parting: Nikola asking Helen if she won't consider staying, because he wants her to, and imagine what they could do, just the two of them together with peace and time and a lab, and they just shared something and he can't not ask knowing he likely won't see her for goodness-knows-how-long... Helen feeling a little betrayed that he would ask that in the first place, putting his own selfish desires first, despite knowing what her work means to her... it's perhaps bittersweet, but mostly bitter, in the end. They'll need those years in the interim to reflect a little and mellow out. Helen realizing she was perhaps a little unfair to him, emotionally; Nikola making the extremely misguided decision to impress her with The Monsters and propose a project she certainly can't refuse.(Spoiler alert: she definitely will. xD)

A Fobwatch and a Sapphire-Studded Choker

So, the next chapter is, broadly speaking, a whole fuckton of worldbuilding. In particular, living conditions and the nuances of the vampire society public transportation system, and also Rose and J'aen settling into their new place. The further alienation of J'aen having to give/set "permissions" for Rose for everything. The lovely awkwardness of settling into bed and cuddling with/being cuddled by someone who is... well. Everything J'aen is to Rose. >:3

Obviously the beginning is... intense. Time is pretty dilated, and I'm not quite sure how to transition it from that almost minute-by-minute framing, with small chapter "jumps" in between, to a more measured thing that will likely be necessary for the longer time frame (of at least a few weeks) that I'd envisioned this story taking place over the course of.

J'aen actually works for the big tech company that creates and manufactures those lovely oppressive scanners. So that's gonna be a fun conflict. Rose, meanwhile, more or less left to her own devices as a stay-at-home "bondmate," makes contact with the InRiCol underground - in part because that's what she believes in, in part because that's the only way she sees any possibility of getting the fobwatch back.

Rose has a fuckton to balance, between her obvious personal mission with the fobwatch, her dealings with the InRiCol while trying to stay under the radar, not arousing J'aen's suspicions, and also negotiating the boundaries of her status as "bondmate" and what seems to be expected of her. (And, hrm, maybe she's not actually all that averse to it... But she and the Doctor don't have that kind of relationship. But she also really needs to keep up this charade to be able to get the Doctor back. And she cares about J'aen, too, this gorgeous woman who obviously adores her, and the continued distance from her bondmate for no reason Rose can honestly give her is obviously weighing on her, too...)

I don't really want to spoil the ending, because I do intend to finish it myself! (...someday.) I can assure you that an eventual happy ending is planned. Hopefully this is enough fodder to let your imagination run wild in the meantime. ;3

#a fobwatch and a sapphire-studded choker #when the blurred line breaks #tinknevertalks #thank you for asking lovely! #it's good to like get to properly thinking and expressing myself about these again #i need to try making a scene-by-scene outline for the fobwatch fic #when the blurred line breaks will have to wait until i can actually handle and enjoy that level of prolonged angst... which may be a while #rinari writes fic #rinari responds #ask rinari

[modanon]

Hadn't realized they were remaking Tokyo Mew Mew. Twas my first manga, so redesign thoughts:

Ichigo's og dress design was better, specifically the skirt. The bottom of the new skirt looks awkward and a little cluttered. This is more apparent in the below picture. Could take or leave her hair not changing colors because I don’t think any of their hair changes colors in the new show(?), and that is slightly more consistent than the 2002 anime where only Ichigo and Lettuce had hair changes, and I do agree that should be an all or nothing deal.

I wish they'd done shorts or bloomers for Lettuce instead of a skirt to sort of keep more of the swimsuit vibe that the og costume had. The skirt also makes the costume look very similar to Ichigo's (Again, more apparent in the above pic) especially with how different the og costumes were from one another. I understand the choice to do a large rework of her costume despite my personal attachment to the og one. Middle school Anon hardcore went "She just like me fr." I like the choice to give her outfit two main tones instead of just one and the accent to help distinguish her costume a little more. Despite changing the antennae position from on top of her head to behind it, we still have no idea what Lettuce is supposed to be. Weird bug vibes as always. Love it.

Mint's redesign is almost perfect. Love how her wings are more detailed. The extra length of her dress and the trim on the bottom are elegant and suit her personality. I like her og hair a little more, but the dangos are cute.

Not sure why Zakuro needed a hair ribbon? It doesn't really add to the costume, and that's pretty much the only large change to her costume. Also not sure why it’s a drastically different color than literally everything else on her costume.

Big dislike for Pudding. Bring back her leotard. We stan her little acrobat costume. It fit her personality better. And we run into the "Ichigo and Lettuce's outfits are really similar now" except worse. That's the same dress as Mint except with a different neckline. No reason for the huge redesign for Pudding. Hatred. Malice even.

The new trim is fine. I especially like it on Mint's costume.

The bow ties are also fine, although the choker collars are iconic and I sort of wish they'd kept them. However, I do think with the new trim, the chokers would look busy.

New charms are eh. I get that they're more visible on the new bows, but I liked how the og charms were a good deal different than other magical girl charms. This is also part of my general ambivalence about the bow ties. The chokers were really distinctive.

Don't care for the leg ribbons. Wish they matched the neck ones to look slightly more cohesive, but surprised they kept the garter element of the costumes at all. I like the idea of the ribbons better than the garters, I just wish they weren't trimmed.

#tokyo mew mew #congrats if you made it this far or sorry that happened idk #Girl needed her thoughts on her formative manga down on paper #biting and gnawing and killing and violence about Pudding fr tho

[will-you-pick-me]

running in at rapid speeds, slamming my hands down on the table i know next to NOTHING and im here to make EVERYONE worse, this looks so so so fun, count me IN The character's so far as so so so fun, Mikey may or may not be a favorite already (turning into a tomboy monster girl just for him i want him carnally maybe) and the way ur doing this sounds sooooo so fun! I would personally love to know more about....hmmm....... How like, active in terms of social gatherings and the like are they all? And how likely would they be to drag some poor unfortunate soul into their bs? (Asking this for all the less than sociable ppl out there, they would not meet me unless they found me outside once in a blue moon and dragged my ass somewhere to chat, it will only be then they realize they've picked up an over-excited chihuahua of a person that only gets social interaction once every friday the 13th on a blood moon)

jhgadfkjslkdss omg I'm so happy that you're so excited for this! As for your question...

Mikey can fake being social if he has to, but in reality, he's actually very selective about who he lets into his inner circle, and the only people he's really close with are his gang members. He's not exactly an introvert, per se, because he does absolutely have an around average social metre, it's more so that his street smarts came with a side of trust issues. So if he can avoid going, he probably will, but Y/N is always an exception - if you want to be there, he'll be there with you.

Ulrich is steeped in the unspoken rules of higher class social gatherings to the point that it's second nature, and in the case of the types of social gatherings he attends, he might actually be likely to lecture you on misbehaving. An "overexcited chihuahua" does not a good plus-one to a business dinner party make. He'll have to make sure you won't disgrace him in front of all the other corporates - perhaps a pretty choker that disguises a shock collar will keep you in line?

Zachniphael is familiar with the older rules of social etiquette, aware of modern versions but not the most fluent. They'd much rather stay at home with you and drink tea, or hot coco if you prefer. They also have a lovely little silver coffee press, if that's your speed, though if you're already energetic they might hesitate to give you that. Perhaps chamomile tea, to calm your nerves? When was the last time you had a good sleep anyways, my little biscuit?

Jessica loves to socialize, especially if she senses fellow nerds around, but she won't drag you into it if it's not your cup of tea. Though she will be a little disappointed if you routinely dismiss her interests - sharing time bonding over hobbies is an important part of a relationship! It hurts if you don't put forward that effort.

Jack is the most socially hyper one so far, and you might have your work cut out for you trying to keep him from jumping directly onto the snack table if there is one, especially if it has those little boards of the fancy thin-sliced meats. It just smells way too good for him to resist! He'll do his best to behave after a gentle scolding, though - or not so gentle, depending on what you want the endgame to be ;)

Narrator isn't very practiced, socially, due to being trapped in the void, and really his only frame of reference for how to act is watching you. This can cause just as many problems as it can solve, because while being similar can help people get along, being too similar can lead to you disliking someone for al the same reasons one might dislike themselves. You'll have to be careful that you don't teach him anything bad by your example.

#pick me! arg #pick me! characters #mun talks #teasers #sneak peeks #zach talks #(slightly) #(it was a tap on the fourth wall not a full breakthrough lmao)

[bardkin]

something about outfits, uniforms, & clothes in cartoons

inspired by a post about repeat outfits. [this whole “never repeat outfits” shit is not working for me. i get attached to one oversized sweater and that’s all you’ll see me in for a week.]

o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

when it comes to cartoons, & animated series in general, each character, no matter how much screen time, has a distinct design, shape, and (usually / if they’re humanoid) outfit, that remains consistent between episodes. this uniformity is of course for recognizability & is intended to be for consistent animation. design details can get switched up from time to time, but the level of how much is added or taken, & for how long, depends largely on the plot and tone of that episode. drastic and/or permanent changes constitute a significant shift in a character’s arc. bottom line, there's always a purpose for any changes.

so... what kind of affect does that have on folks from animated sources? does it have an affect at all? what kind of effect does that have on me, before & after I realized I was fictionkin?

as someone with pronounced adhd/neurodivergence, something like having the same outfit, or at least very similar ones, every day, is comforting for a number of reasons.

I know what textures I like or that I’m at least neutral about, and what textures give me the Bad Sensory; repeats of the same shirt are going to feel the exact same, every time. (which I feel is a given for neurodiverse folks with sensory issues, but mention of it does matter here.)

when necessary, my “samey” outfits sometimes keeps me... grounded, in some ways? it's a bit hard to explain, but relates a little bit to sensory stuff. (something something "never felt 'right' in my own body, but outfits are something I actively choose, so I'm able to feel like a semi-functioning person when I'm having really bad/off days," something something.)

the consistency/”samey-ness” also helps me feel a bit closer to my gem-side, since my organic body can’t/doesn’t need hardlight clothes. (all Gems have a "uniform" that remains the exact same, unless they regenerate & choose to alter it.)

bottom line, my "uniform" is a core part of who I am; of my fictotype. it's kind of like phantom limbs, but clothes, if that makes sense as an analogy?? something I'm supposed to have, and not seeing it on my person is sometimes jarring and/or dysphoric in some ways.

small changes & adding accessories every now and then — my spiked choker, a bracelet, maybe some earrings, etc — is nice, but not a constant. I like to spice things up here and there, but even these accessories might eventually bleed into my uniform if they feel enough like “part of my (character) design.”

if a significant article of my “design” is missing (be it accidentally left somewhere, removed without my consent, etc) or too different from my uniform, I feel wrong. like if I have to wear shorts instead of pants, ankle-socks instead of long ones, or if I forget my jacket and don’t know where it is. unless I’m the one actively, purposefully, changing up my outfit, I often feel “off model” in a way that causes me varying degrees of mental & sometimes physical distress.

just recently, I was trying to shop for some new jeans (which is a nightmare of a task for a laundry list of reasons), as I've long since outgrown the few pairs I do own. I was looking for something with the same brand, size, etc, and perhaps even color if I could be so lucky, as a pair I'd bought half a year ago.

without going into too much detail, the trip ended up a bust & I was actually pretty (internally) upset about it. I didn't think much of it, at the time, but coming back to this entry made me partially realize why I was so distraught after my search came up empty.

bottom line, it feels weird and wrong and upsetting in ways I couldn't fully explain before, to have drastic deviations in my outfits. hell, my fictomere's only had two major changes to his wardrobe, and even then, it's not a far cry from his original design's clothes.

maybe it’s a little bit of my neurodivergence, or maybe a lot, and perhaps a bit of fandom headcanoning I saw forever ago related to my fictomere's possible autism. but... I feel strongly enough about it that I don't think the distinction of this (if I'm using the term correctly in this context) noema’s “true” origins really matter.

#sword's journal.txt #seaglass stars #fictionkin

[bensubcon]

#Teila Fox #Sonikku to Emi no ai

[musekicker]

Set in the Blitz gives or enhances power au. Not really so much a drabble as me playing around with the idea of a out fit description. 

If there was one unexpected thing Blitz experienced when he was brought before Mammon and made a part of one of his collections, it was how much clothing was coming to matter.

For one thing, Blitz had hidden his choker, boots and jacket the moment he realized that he would have to wear something else. As much as he would had loved to keep his original clothes on they were getting smelly and there was no washing machine in the living collection room. And giving it to the servants to get cleaned, he might as well say good bye to his clothes.

So hidden they would stay for now. And he would wear the outfits provided. 

Normally he would had been given the same, drab looking olive green shirt and pants that most of the others in this collection would get. But not at the moment as Blitz had been informed by a imp named Gilded that Blitz currently a Mammon favorite.

From how it was explained to him, Mammon had favorites that varied from mood to mood. And since Blitz was the newest, Blitz just happened to be the current favorite. And favorites got to be out of the living collection room more at Mammon's side. And because of that, had to be more decorated.

Blitz almost welcomed the clothes change. Up until he was wearing the outfit. Looking at his reflection in the full length mirror, Blitz decided he hated it actually.

It was in a shade of emerald green. Shiny and shimmery fabric that clung to his body shape. The sleeves were long and opal see through material His shirt had deep v , showing a lot of his chest. The back of his shirt was partly backless.

His pants were more solid it felt like, the only sign of the see through material being woven through the cuffs of the pants. There was also a hood to the outfit, slits in the opal see through fabric for his horns to poke through. 

The green, soft slippers he wore seemed like a after thought to the outfit. 

All of the fabric seemed like it was here to just be pretty and be easy to tear away if needed. Blitz didn't want to think about that last part.

The clothes weren't the only shiny thing on his person.

About three gold rings with small green jewels embedded in them were around his tail now. He hated love they jingled against each other with every move, but Blitz would not be getting them off easily. Not when they had been welded on with some magic. The same was for the gold cuffs, welded on and would not be removed without the right tools or magic.

His horns were also adorned, gold horn end caps with green jewels embedded once more. This apparently was very tame to what could be done with his horns. Blitz had complained and struggled after the tail rings had been welded on. He was told that if he kept it up carving into his horns or embedding jewels was a possibility.

Blitz stopped fighting after that.

One would almost question why Mammon was giving such expensive jewelry to him when Mammon was known for his greed. It made sense once Blitz thought more about it. As far as Mammon believed, Blitz was another object. One that he would do everything to make sure would not leave his collection and he could show off to visitors if he wished to.

He was a shiny, little decoration to be at Mammon's side or forced onto Mammon's lap. And right now, there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

#helluva boss

[minwooks-moved]

sometimes i think about how there have been two ( or more that i’m just not aware of ) cbs where youngtaek has worn a choker ( p much a collar ) and just ...... it is Yeah <3 . He Looks Very Good In Both Comebacks .

#both are just — they Hit Different . They Were The Beginning of Youngtaek-Bias-Wrecker/-ing . #mads.rambles. #young.taek.galixies. #also part of the realization that Chokers Are Very Pretty To Me . #((( yet again Youngtaek-On-The-Brainsim ... )))

[aro-comics]

Aro Joy

Aro Joy, 1/1 - it’s almost AUTUMN!!!! 🍁🎃🧣 ✨ (and I’m very excited lol, early fall is one of my favourite times of year 😂). Ok but back on topic - I’ve actually had a vision for this specific comic for ... a while 😭 Like, half a year ago. It’s been a journey, accepting my arospec identity (and from what I’ve heard talking to y’all, it’s been like this for many of you too), and though I’ve been open about the bumpier parts of the experience, I wanted to also talk about the positives, all the joys of being aro, too 💚💚🐸

As a general disclaimer: The sentiments here aren’t meant to speak for all aros - because some aros want to be in romantic relationships (or be otherwise partnered), and of course this is equally valid and should be respected! And on the same note, allos can be happy with being, or just want to be single, because again - this isn’t something defined by orientation.

But I think for a lot of us, our arospec orientation can be tied to how feel about our lives in relation to partnership ... which is that, we're okay (or happy) being single! For the longest time, I held it against myself that I wasn’t in a relationship, but not because I wanted to be in one - I just thought it was a milestone that would make other people think of me as a 'real' adult 😭😭 Realizing I was aro gave me the opportunity to reassess how I viewed myself, and my relationships with other people. I was able to actually let go of that idea of having a “””missing piece”””, and appreciate everyone and everything I have in my life. I sound kinda cheesy saying this, but for the first time, I think I have everything I've ever wanted, relationships wise? I'm at peace, and I really appreciate it.

__

School's gonna start soon for me and for some of y'all, so I hope that goes well for everyone! Please take care, and as always I'd love to hear what you think! What are your favourite things about being aro? 🐸

[Image Descriptions:

Slide 1: “I find it fascinating, the way alloromantics value romance.” Celia stands outside in front on a vibrant fall day. She seems to be on a walk on a trail.

Behind her, the leaves are a bright orange, and she is wearing a white wrapped top, jeans, and an orange ribbon choker.

Slide 2: “When I bring up the fact -”

A flashback to an earlier time, where Celia is talking to another girl (who is alloro). Celia says ���You know, life without Romance is not inherently bad, or unfulfilling -” 

The other girls says, “yeah, but it’s DIFFERENT.”

Slide 3: [Pure text] There’s this really deep, engrained idea, even amongst people who are accepting and understanding of the idea that being aromantic is valid, that romance brings a new level of joy to life. A kind of special fulfillment they would be lost without.

Slide 4: “And I’ve got to say …” Celia speaks to the viewer.

Slide 5: “That sounds really hard, yikes” She shrugs nonchalantly.  

Slide 6: Celia speaks from the bottom of the panel, and a big speech bubble says, “People seem to have such a hard time with dating? Pining? Trying to court people? (I actually do not know much about romance, despite my love of the genre) It just seems like so much work, just to feel fulfilled.”

Extra doodles of character struggle with online dating, pining with writing love letters, and dollar bills with a rose exemplify the various struggles mentioned.

Slide 7: Shot switches back to Celia in the forest. She’s now holding a maple leaf in her hand, staring down at it contemplatively as she speaks. “I’m … actually feeling pretty good about my life.”

Slide 8: She holds the leaf up to the light now. “I don’t really feel like there’s something missing without a partner. Although, maybe one day -” In the bottom half of the panel, the perspective switches to her POV centered on her hand with the illuminated leaf, “I’d also be happy with a QPR.”

Slide 9: It’s one of the things that makes me grateful that I’m aro.

The shot has switched to be from behind Celia, staring out at the landscape of mountains, the fall foliage, and the river below. Celia has let go of the leaf and it drifts away in the wind]

#RegularComic #AroJoy

[imtrashraccoon]

I've only ever seen the whole collar thing done in Swapfell so I'm curious what your opinions are on that sort of thing?

@scrambledmeggys

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Day 10: Dress Up

You exited the bathroom and were about to go downstairs when you encountered Papyrus on the balcony. He was leaning against the railing and while he appeared to be just hanging around, you got the feeling he had been waiting for you because he wasn't the type to do nothing.

He straightened up and smiled when you noticed him. "I Have A Question For You, " he said casually.

You quirked an eyebrow at his slightly odd behavior but you were curious where this was going. "Um, sure. What's your question?"

"Were You Ever The Type To Dress Up Back On The Surface? Such As For Special Occasions?" he asked.

Now that was a bit of an odd question, but you didn't see the harm in answering. "Well yeah, but it wasn't ever really a spontaneous decision. Most of the time it was just for specific events like picture day at school, weddings I went to, graduation from both high school and then college, and of course, all the job interviews I had to go to."

Papyrus seemed thoughtful but didn't respond right away.

"As you can see," you added, gesturing to your current 'Just Woke Up Like This Outfit' - Sweater and Leggings Addition. "I don't usually make it a daily habit to wear fancy things.

He nodded and a slight smile flickered across his face. "Then I Hope You Do Not Mind, But I Got You Something." He pulled a small white box from his pocket and held it out to you.

Curious, you accepted, but quickly realized that it felt very similar to the kind of box that jewelry comes in. Papyrus was waiting for you to open it though, so with some trepidation, you carefully lifted the lid off of the box.

Inside was an admittedly gorgeous choker necklace. The main band was made from black velvet and there was a separate smaller band made from a delicate gold chain, which was secured to the clasps and at both sides of the centerpiece. Set into the center of the velvet band was a brilliant diamond shaped red gem, although you couldn't be certain what kind.

To say you were stunned was an understatement. This was clearly a pretty expensive piece of jewelry and felt rather personal. It took you a moment to even find the words to say, because while you certainly loved it, you were unsure if you should accept something like this from him.

"Papyrus..." you started to say as you tore your gaze away from it and back to him. "This is...beautiful. But are you sure?"

He smiled warmly and stepped slightly closer. "I Am Sure, Precious. I Have Come To Really Care About You And It Is Tradition To Give A Collar To Loved Ones. So, I Want You To Have This." He gently took one of your hands in his own as he spoke.

You glanced down at the necklace again, your brow furrowing slightly. "Could you explain your tradition to me then?" you asked quietly.

"Of Course I Can."

Apparently, this necklace, or collar as Papyrus had called it, was as much a symbol of commitment as it was a statement piece. While the concept was slightly similar to a promise ring, with how intrinsically dangerous Monster society was, it also served as a way to protect prospective partners from harm. It was complicated, but you thought you understood the basics at least.

This was Papyrus' way of asking to become more serious. He wanted to protect you and he was willing to stand up to anyone who might object to your presence, despite the fact that humans had been condemned to death so long ago. He didn't care that you weren't a monster. He'd fallen for who you really were inside.

You were quite touched. You'd never had anyone care for you like this before. So how could you not accept? A part of you wasn't sure about becoming attached, as you really didn't belong here and still intended to try to leave one day. Still though, why shouldn't you indulge a little bit? You deserved to be happy and being with him definitely made you feel happy.

After Papyrus finished his explanation, you both stood there silently. While he was waiting for your response, you were trying to figure out how you actually should respond.

Finally, you looked up at him again and smiled slightly. "I can tell how important this is for you. While I'm a bit worried about what this could mean in the future, I can't deny that I feel the same way. I care a lot about you, Papyrus."

He seemed rather relieved to hear that, although his relief was quickly replaced with joy. He smiled so genuinely that any doubt you'd had in the moment, seemed to vanish completely.

"May I?" he asked and reached for the box.

You nodded and let him fasten the collar around your neck. It fit snugly, but not uncomfortably so, and the velvet felt much softer than you'd thought it would.

Papyrus embraced you warmly and rocked you back and forth in his arms. "There Is One Thing I Need You To Promise Me, Precious," he said quietly.

"What's that?" you asked.

"If You Ever Go Outside, Promise Me You Will Never Take This Off. I Cannot Guarantee Your Safety If You Do And I Cannot Bear The Thought Of Something Happening To You. Do You Understand?"

You nodded, "I understand."

Truthfully, you weren't currently interested in just exploring the Underground. You needed to be there for Frisk afterall and you knew that staying with the brothers was the safest place to be. So, you were content to stay indoors for the time being at least.

"If You Are Alright With It, I Would Enjoy Surprising You With Similar Gifts In The Future."

You chuckled but shook your head. "That's fine, but don't go overboard, okay? We've just started getting to know each other and there's nothing wrong with taking our time."

Papyrus laughed and gently nuzzled against the top of your head. "I Make No Promises, Rihanna..."

#selfshipufpap #undertale #underfell #underfell papyrus x reader #underfell papyrus #reader #named oc #the hand we've been dealt #thwbd #alternate universe #raccoons drabbles

[just-a-little-cellist]

Levi Ackerman - NSFW Alphabet

A/N: i'm bored so i'm just writing these nsfw headcanons for all my comfort characters, don't judge me. feel free to request - i posted request rules so go check it out :)

enjoy! nsfw under the cut :P

A - Aftercare (what are they like after sex)

The first time you have sex, Levi needs a lot of comfort. He'd never been that vulnerable with someone before and it took a lot for him to open up like that, so aftercare for him is the priority. Once sex becomes more frequent and he gets used to everything, he's the one to clean you both up but he still needs more emotional reassurance than he'll admit.

B - Body part (fav body part of themselves/their partner)

He isn't a vain person, so he'd probably say his arms just because of how much you love them. He wasn't too fussed at first but because of all the attention you give them he's started growing fonder of them.

His favourite part of you is your neck and collarbones. He didn't even realize he had a thing for that until he met you, and whenever you wear chokers he can't take his eyes off you.

C - Cum (where do they prefer to cum?)

Levi prefers to cum on your stomach, purely because it makes it easier to clean up. (He's always very mindful of any mess.)

D - Dirty secret (self-explanatory)

It obviously couldn't happen because of his status, but it sends a shiver of arousal through him whenever he imagines you humiliating him in public. It's something he wants to try in private, though he's nervous to talk about it with you.

E - Experience (how experienced are they?)

Levi is a virgin, since he doesn't have sex with people he doesn't genuinely, 100% trust. You'll have to guide him through everything at the beginning, however he's a quick learner and picks it up pretty fast.

F - Favourite position (goes without saying)

He likes missionary a lot because it lets him feel close to you, and he'll melt if you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He also gets shy sometimes, so this position is perfect to hide his face in your neck.

G - Goofy (are they goofy or serious in the moment?)

Other than the odd sarcastic comment, he's generally serious. If he's in a vulnerable position then joking around doesn't calm his nerves at all.

H - Hair (opinions on grooming etc.)

Levi keeps his own hair neatly trimmed. He'd prefer if you keep yours vaguely under control but, as long as it's clean, it's up to you how you keep it.

I - Intimacy (how intimate are they during sex?)

It takes him a while to fully open up to you, but sex becomes one of the most intimate moments you ever share with Levi where he truly breaks down all his walls for you, just the two of you.

J - Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't tend to masturbate unless he's really desperate. Something about it just makes him uncomfortable, but he also has urges sometimes when you aren't available.

K - Kinks (again, pretty self-explanatory)

When you first started sleeping together, Levi had more of the control because he thought that was the way it was 'supposed' to be. However once you brought up the idea of him being submissive, your dynamic shifted. He was extremely hesitant at the beginning because he wasn't used to being in such a powerless position, though as soon as you managed to get him into a submissive headspace it became a regular occurrence.

Levi is a sub at heart who needs a soft dom more than anything. Some of the kinks you've explored that he likes are bondage, light impact play, praise, orgasm denial and marking (as long as the marks are hidden during the day.)

He also definitely has a bit of a humiliation kink but he's still working up the courage to tell you.

L - Location (favourite place to do the deed)

His favourite place is a tie between the shower and his desk. Sometimes when he's had a long day and doesn't want a full scene, he likes to have sex in the shower (also it makes clean-up easier). Although if he feels like subbing, as long as the door is locked, one of his favourite things is for you to cockwarm him while he's trying to work.

M - Motivation (what gets them going)

Showing skin is a sure-fire way to get him riled up. I personally headcanon Levi as demisexual, so he doesn't care when other people show skin, but if it's you? All you have to do is leave a couple buttons undone, expose your chest a little, and he is done for. Also, slipping casual praise into conversations will sometimes start pushing him into a submissive headspace, especially if you've done a lot of scenes with him recently because he starts responding to that tone of voice.

N - No (something they'd never do)

He doesn't like intense pain play - he's had enough pain the rest of his life so he needs you to be gentle with him. He also wouldn't want a harsh or strict dom, preferring to have you take care of him instead.

O - Oral (preference in giving, receiving etc.)

He enjoys both equally. Before you'd had sex you wanted to ease him into the experience carefully, so you gave him his first blowjob and he almost sobbed from the stimulation. Buuuuuuut alongside that he would also happily spend hours between yours legs - the praise you give him as he pleasures you and the feeling of you clenching around his tongue is almost enough to make him finish without any physical touch.

P - Pace (are they fast, slow, quick, rough?)

If it's just against the wall in the shower then it tends to be a bit faster, and on the odd occasion Levi feels more dominant he can get rougher, but he is usually perfectly content to let you decide the pace entirely.

Q - Quickie (opinion on quickies)

They're good sometimes, especially when you're both very busy with other duties. They're good to relieve basic urges, but Levi would never choose them over a full scene.

R - Risk (how open are they to risk?)

Levi is open to a bit of experimentation, but never anything exhibitionist. He can't risk the possibility of someone catching him in a compromising position, considering his importance in the military, so he insists that you keep all bedroom activities private.

S - Stamina (how long can they go for?)

As expected, at the start Levi had pretty low stamina since it was all so new and overwhelming. It gotten a little better since then but he also has a fairly quick recovery time to make up for it.

T - Toys (opinion on using toys etc.)

He doesn't particularly enjoy using toys on you, but adores when you use toys on him.

U - Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He'll only tease you a little when he's in a dominant mood and you've been doing something to piss him off, but the rest of the time it's not something he does at all. (He kind of likes when you tease him though.)

V - Volume (are they loud or quiet?)

Levi is cautious to control his volume so that other people don't hear, but his whimpers of pleasure can get quite loud sometimes.

W - Wild card (random headcanon)

During a scene once, while he was deep into subspace, he accidently called you mommy. When he realized what he said he was mortified, and almost started dropping. You had to quickly assure him that it was perfectly alright, that you weren't upset with him, and that you don't mind it if he wants to keep calling you that. He only uses that name for you when he's really, really submissive, and it's adorable hearing the tiny whimpers of "P-please mommy..."

X - X-ray (what's going on... down there?)

So many people seem to think that this man has a monster cock. He is 5'3 there is no way. He's a little smaller than average, in length and girth, but that just means you can hear him whine when you take his whole length into your mouth.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is low most of the time. He has so many other things he has to focus on everyday, so sex doesn't cross his mind that much. Sex is more of a stress relief that he doesn't think too much about until it happens.

Z - Zzzzz... (how quickly do they fall asleep after?)

Being an insomniac, Levi takes a while to settle down to sleep, although it's always a little easier when he's comfortably next to you. (definitely the little spoon)

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #sub levi #aot

[misterghostfrog]

[IMAGE ID; a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood carrying Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat freckled white man with curly ginger hair that is shaved close at the sides. He has a pair of round framed glasses in a bright red, under the glasses he is wearing eyeliner, and a navy eyeshadow. He has black lipstick, two black snakebite piercings under his lip, and a small black nostril piercing. His ear has a large black piercing that cuffs a chain to a small black piercing higher up his ear, and one final black piercing in the middle. He has a black choker, and then a looser chain necklace with an eye ornament on it. He has a studded lather jacket on that is covered in multiple patches and pins, mostly hidden by Jon: of the visible pins there is a trans flag patch on his chest, and on his shoulder is a large dark colored patch that has A-C-A-B on it in white. Under the Jacket is a black shirt that he has partly tucked into his pants, the shirt has a large anarchy symbol drawn on it in red. Under that he is wearing jeans that are significantly ripped as far as we can see. On his right hand he has several black rings, and his nails are painted black. Jon is a skinny Jordanian man with brown eyes and shoulder-length grey-streaked dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of his neck. He has a beard beginning to grow that appears to be the product of forgetting to shave. He is covered in a series of small round scars that vary in exact size. He is wearing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses, a plain t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee, and converse. Martin is carrying Jon bridal style in his arms, and is looking away, he is blushing, though his expression is concerned and appears to be speaking. Jon has his arms wrapped around Martins neck, his cheeks are darkened and he is staring at hte ground with an expression somewhere between fear and the face one makes when they’re having to retrace every step they’ve taken to get here. END ID]

Punk Martin but make it Jonmartin.

Also I wrote a lil thing to go along with this under the cut, its only barely edited because it was mostly for fun so be warned its a big ol mess! But its s2 jonmartin nonsense with Martin being very cool and attractive and Jon being seven layers deep in denial (Also I may have written Jon as a touch autistic because its projection hours tonight i’m too sleepy to mask and that goes for writing too babey)

(Mentions of worms, past injuries, and Jon dealing with some internalised ableism and general foolishness)

Jon forgot his cane.

It’s a relatively regular occurrence, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing it’s something of a recent addition to the list of things he needs to keep track of when he leaves the house. Another lovely parting gift from Prentiss, a worm in his left leg that went just quick enough to start burrowing into the bone before it was removed. 

For another, he really has other things to worry about. And if it doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t matter. Most days he can get by just fine without it- it hurts of course. But not so much he can’t support himself, and really, does he need it otherwise?

Martin and Tim don’t seem to agree, though Sasha has kept respectfully to herself on the whole business. Martin, of course, he trusts. Albeit only recently. But that doesn’t make him right, his priorities are warped. Naturally. He doesn’t see the bigger picture.

(or at least that’s what Jon tells himself)

Which is what leads to this moment, sitting on a bench outside the shop, single grocery bag by his feet. He’d only run out to get a few things, but somewhere between the his flat the the shop his barely visible limp had become more pronounced as his hip began to throb, then he was halfway through the frozens when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish the trip. After that he’d barely made it through checkout to the nearest seat before all but collapsing into it.

And now he’s sitting, stuck. An insurmountable walk from home, without his stupid cane. Which, he notes, he wouldn’t need if he’d brought in the first place. Funny how that works.

“Jon?” A familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jon jolts upright. Martin. 

He knows Martin lives in the area, a side effect of his... investigations. Though he was unaware he used the same shop. He looks up, a greeting or perhaps a question on his lips that dies as soon as he actually lays eyes on Martin.

Martin is wearing a leather jacket. Not just a leather jacket of course, but that’s the first thing Jon can process. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket covered in various patches that advertise various opinions and identities that Jon doesn’t have time to think about. His  jeans are about as much rip as they are Jean, and he’s got piercings- and eyeliner. he’s dressed like he should be riding a motorcycle, not the beat-up red bike he’s got beside him.

“Are you alright?” Martin says, and Jon realizes he’s been staring.

“Are you going to a costume party?” Jon blurts instead of answering. A costume party would make sense, of course. Martin doesn’t dress like this, he dresses like- like-

It occurs to him dimly that he’s never encountered Martin outside of work, at least never in a scenario that would allow him to change out of his work clothes. And some part of him has always assumed that sweaters and khakis were simply how he dressed. It suited him, really. Or Jon had assumed, but then again he assumed anything familiar is suiting.

“Wh- A- no?” Martin answers, looking vaguely offended. Jon flushes.

“I- sorry, I just- I’ve... I didn’t think you seemed the type to dress... like that...?” Jon fumbles, pathetically trying to salvage the conversation. Judging by Martins expression, he’s failing.

Martin opens his mouth to say something, and Jon realizes there’s likely no coming back from this particular mortification. He snatches the bag by his feet and moves to stand. Some excuse already tumbling out when the reason for his sit-down, which had dulled to a shockingly forgettable throb, decides to remind him of his place in the world.

He lets out a cry of pain, and crumples. Only stopped from hitting the ground by a pair of arms that wrap around his chest and under his shoulder. 

“Oh my god, Jon. Are you alright- what- is it your leg? Where’s your cane-” Martin babbles, Gently replacing Jon on his bench as Jon breathes through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine- i’m fine Martin I-” he sighs, studiously avoiding Martins gaze. “My cane is at home.” He tries not to sound chastised as he says the last part- he shouldn’t have to after all. He’s still Martins boss. He shouldn’t be looking away like he’s been caught at something.

“Jon” Martin sounds exasperated, and Jon crosses his arms. Once again, nothing like someone being scolded. He’s not being scolded. He’s an adult. “How long have you been sitting here like this?”

“I...” Jon begins before trailing off, he’s not actually sure. The period between sitting on the bench and the pain dulling enough for him to think through the fog is something is a blur. He is pretty sure someone asked if he was alright at some point. His lack of answer seems to be enough for Martin though.

“Just give me a moment.” He says, stepping away from Jon over to his bike- which has fallen over onto the ground -pulling it upright and over to Jon on the bench. He pushes down the rusted kickstand with a hearty kick- and Jon briefly notes he’s wearing steel-toed boots -and sets the bike gently upright.

“Okay, so! If you sit on the bike I can push it, and you can get home and rest that leg without jostling it too much by trying to walk without your cane.” He says pointedly. Jon makes a face,

“This... this really isn’t necessary Martin- I’m perfectly capable-” He grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. But a glance at Martins expression shuts him up quick. 

“Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Jon pauses, the memory of the white-hot flash of pain still fresh in his mind. He grimaces, shaking his head. Martin hums thoughtfully. “Alright, would you be alright if I picked you up? Just for a moment to get you on the bike” He asks carefully.

Jon hesitates, looking between Martin and the bike. And weighs his options. After several seconds he nods. Martin smiles, and Jon feels something in his chest flutter. Anxiety at his decision most likely. Or perhaps nerves in relation to sitting on a bike, he’s never ridden one- of course Martin will be doing all the work but surely there’s some sort of balance required isn’t there? Really he shouldn’t be riding a bike like this-

Those thoughts are all swept away at the feeling of large warm hands gently scooping him off the bench. He instinctively throws his arms around Martins neck for support as he’s lifted into the air. 

He can feel Martins chest warm against his side as Martin holds him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting his legs. He’s being cradled by his subordinate, carefully as so not to jostle his leg. And all he can think about is how warm Martin is. He’s large and soft despite all the sharper accessories and he smells a bit like leather and tea on top of whatever soap he uses. Probably something that Jon wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to his head. And Jon can see the freckles on Martins cheeks and neck close enough to count if he wanted to even as he looks away, saying something Jon can���t quite parse because he’s too busy reeling from the realization he’d be happy to sit in Martins arms like this for the rest of his life.

His face goes hot and he forces himself to look down at the ground. The pain is clearly messing with his head, or perhaps the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps he’s still riding the high from that moment of realization that Martin isn’t trying to kill him, that he can trust him. 

Either way he’s not thinking straight, which is why he’s dissapointed instead of relieved when Martin gently places him on the bike with the exact amount of care he took in picking him up. Which shouldn’t make him feel so oddly jittery but it does.

The ride is quiet, aside from awkward instructions from Jon on where to turn as Martin guides them carefully along the sidewalk. They miss a turn once because Jons too preoccupied with the feeling of Martins arm bumping against his shoulder as he guides the bike.

And then they’re at Jons flat, and Jon once again feels that misplaced disappointment. He wonders if perhaps Martin will carry him up to his flat, and his face burns again as the silliness of the thought hits him.

Martin does very, very briefly lift him to help him off the bike when he stumbles. But his leg has recovered enough that he can make it up to his flat without assistance, or so he tells Martin. Who looks unconvinced.

“Let me at least walk with you, yea? That way I know for sure you got home safe.” He insists, and Jon forced himself to be displeased with the situation.

It ends up being a good thing Martin came along though, a partway up the steps the railing is no longer enough to support Jon, and he ends up half-carried the rest of the way. Martins arm under his shoulder, his own loops around Martins back, gripping the jacket for support. He can feel his head drifting at the contact- Martin is just so damned warm and safe and Martin it’s impossible not to get distacted.

He forces himself to think about something else, anything else. The jacket- he can feel the leather under his fingertips and it’s as good distraction as any.

It’s a nice jacket, really. Clearly well-worn. And it does suit Martin, in an odd sort-of way.

Jon winces internally, remembering the conversation from earlier. He hadn’t meant to come off so... well. It doesn’t matter. Except that it does, even though it doesn’t, but it does.

Once they reach Jons door, he pushes off of Martin to lean on the wall while he fumbles for his keys. Martin lingers as he does so, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly in the silence.

Jon finds his keys and sighs in relief as the door swings open.

He nearly wanders inside and shuts the door before remembering basic human etiquette. He pauses in the doorway, turning to Martin. Who smiles awkwardly.

“Thank you.” He says stiffly, still leaning heavily on the doorframe. “That was... very kind. Of you.” Martin shakes his head.

“It’s nothing, really. Couldn’t exactly just leave you there, could I?” 

Jon shifts awkwardly, wincing at the brief weight on his leg. He’s right of course, morally at least. If not logically.

“I... I suppose not.” He says, hesitating before adding “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Jon. I already said it’s fine-”

“No-” Jon grimaces “not for that. I- I meant... for what I said. About your clothes. They don’t... I just- I didn’t expect it, and I may have come off as... rude.” He mutters

“Oh.” Martin says flatly, Jons sure he’d forgotten about that until just now, and he wishes he could have kept it that way.

“they do suit you, though.” He says, after an awkward pause. “Your clothes, I mean. It looks- you look nice.” he finishes as genuinely as he can- he does mean it. Of course, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like he does.

“Oh” Martin says again, brightening slightly, his cheeks going blotchy red in a blush. “I- er- thank you...? I suppose?”

“Yes. Well. Your welcome, I suppose.” There’s another awkward pause, Martin isn’t quite smiling at Jon, but there’s something soft in his expression Jon can’t quite parse. “ Have a good day, Martin.” He says finally, after a long pause. Martins cheeks redden again.

“Oh- yeah, er. You too Jon- and take care of yourself. Alright?”

Jon nods, and Martin smiles. And Jon thinks he’d like to see Martin smile a bit more.

He waves as Martin heads down the stairs, he can hear Martin humming as he goes.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #punk martin #fic #art #fanfic #fanart #ghostly doodle #ghostly doodles #Jons a mess! #and Martin has cool fashions #ghostly scribbles

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

-

You woke up slowly. 

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check. 

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check. 

Wait… 

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left. 

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear. 

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check. 

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man. 

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

... 

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out. 

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you. 

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again. 

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep. 

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze. 

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body. 

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on. 

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

-

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out. 

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going. 

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove. 

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn. 

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease. 

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you.  As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly. 

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse. 

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball. 

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place. 

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow. 

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could. 

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course. 

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome. 

-

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

-

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

-

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

-

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

-

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality. 

A certain quality of... of... 

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves. 

Sigh. 

-

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet. 

The reply was instant. 

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more. 

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up. 

Your jaw dropped. 

You dropped your phone. 

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it. 

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope. 

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say? 

This is just an ad? 

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone. 

At a very specific number. 

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree. 

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything. 

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that. 

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh. 

-

You sneezed. 

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

You sniffed, rubbing your nose. 

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered. 

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait. 

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers. 

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh. 

Whoa. 

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs. 

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch. 

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket. 

Oh. 

Oh??? 

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone. 

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt. 

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him. 

Yoongi was right next to you. 

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat. 

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second. 

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.  

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

-

part iv

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masterpost

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