#DESPITE NUMEROUS POSTS SAYING NOT TO?!?

[rainbow-angel110]

So it's come to this.

I'm usually nice, and I don't like confrontation but.... *sigh* sometimes you just gotta break out the all-caps, bolding, and italicizing.

CAN Y'ALL NOT POST LEAKS PLEASE?!

I've already stated this in another comment, but it is so disrespectful to the crew. They didn't want this to happen, none of us wanted this to happen after TtT got leaked a week before it was ment to be public.

Y'all.

Two weeks. Two goddamn weeks. Just wait for two FUCKING WEEKS PLEASE?!?! Before posting anything so we can't blame you for posting stuff?!

I think you can survive not posting spoilers for those that didn't ask for it?

To all of you who keep posting the first two minutes, you should be ashamed of yourselves. Yeah go on with your argument that "oH bUt yoU caN fIltEr the tAgsSs and avOid it-" SHUT UP. THAT DOES NOT EXCUSE SPREADING SPOILERS.

Nothing official has come out. If it had, and you guys were posting that, I wouldn't be making this post. Because at least that would be with Dana and Co's consent.

But this isn't.

Stop.

[illnessfaker]

tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

[draconic-desire]

Oculus Infinitum

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

[prettyoatmeal]

Warning!! NSFW, Fem reader, Dubcon. A/N: Posts gonna slow down again. I had a bit of a period where I couldn't stop just posting my thoughts. I'm burned out now from that LOL Masterlist here!

Horndog König. Need I say more?

When you come into his life he's just astounded. He's just thinking like.. what, a girl likes me? ...Wow! A girl likes me :D and then his libido just shoots through the roof because he isn't fucking for a one night stand anymore, but because you love him and he loves you.

He finds himself gets turned on by anything and everything because he can't stop his perverted brain.

Whether it be eating a banana or rubbing lotion along body after a shower, quite literally anything you do could get him turned on because he just can't control his mind.

Showering together always ends up with him exploring your body. You're just so pretty and soft compared to him. He loves to grab at your hips, your waist, your tummy, all over your torso. When he finally lets you wash yourself, his cock is up and twitching as you lather the bubbly soap onto yourself.

Cuddling in bed with him will end with him humping you from behind. He'll wrap his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him, and then he ruins the moment by feeling his cock hardening from your ass just slightly press back against him. He'll whimper and whine into your neck as he dry humps into your ass, his cock twitching and drenching his trousers as he reaches his orgasm.

"Please, please, please, Schazt. Need more. Mmgh.."

Thing is that you don't even need to be there physically. There have been numerous times where you'd caught him humping your pillow, his face buried into your blankets as he cries and moans into them before making a mess of his cum.

He can't just cum once either, it's as if he's under the effects of sex pollen.

He doesn't care if his cock is overly sensitive from filling you so many times, just once more. You'll give him one more, right? Of course you will.

He'll start sobbing into you neck as he puts you into a mating press and ruts into you. His cum is spilling from you despite how much he tries to push it back in, your thighs are trembling and shaking as he abuses your poor cunny. But the way you clench around him and suck him back in.. oh boy.

The way you moan and tell him how good he's making you feel turns his brain to mush. Your praise will always get him over the edge, he loves hearing how good his cock makes you feel. His hips will stutter and slow for the first time in hours, spilling himself one last time, and both of you are trying to catch your breaths, fucked out and satisfied.

[versadies]

FOR ME? (neuvillette x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. for me?

ADDRESSED. neuvillette (x gn!reader)

STAMP. in which he came back from his trip to qiaoying village and brought a few things for you!

CONTENT. ooc (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationship, possibly cheesy, possible grammar errors, takes place during hustle and bustle quest from the recent lantern rite update!

POST-SCRIPT. here’s my post dedicated to @staarri’s birthday and milestone event — congratulations on your milestone and happy belated birthday to you, zira! furthermore, this fic is inspired by a wriolette fanart made by @/visualkid_n that i saw on my feed !!

LINKS. masterlist / taglist

For a man such as NEUVILLETTE who is as busy as can be and rarely leaves Fontaine, you thought you were in a different universe when your lover first told you that he’ll be going on a trip to Liyue and visit Qiaoying Village. It’s not often to find your lover taking a break from his duties as the Iudex, let alone travel to another nation with his busy schedule, yet here he was.

He tried to invite you really, telling you that he’d like you to come with him and spend time together, but given your schedule, you could only turn him down despite wanting to accept.

And so you spent half a day with your lover away from the nation, often wondering how he is and if he’s not sulking too much about you not being able to come with him. Though, knowing how he is, you’re sure he’ll be alright – he can live in not seeing you for a day.

Take note, it was only half a day.

To your surprise, Neuvillette came back home much earlier than expected, standing by your doorstep with a few bags in hand, his eyes brightening at the sight of you.

“How was your trip?” You asked as you provided him some water for him to drink after he came inside your shared home.

“It was… quite enjoyable, but not as much as I longed for you to be there with me.” He responds softly, thanking you for the drink before taking a sip.

You gave him an apologetic smile, sitting down next to him on the sofa. “Sorry.. I’ll come with you next time when you decide to travel again.” You spoke, before glancing at the numerous items that are placed on the floor. “Though may I ask, what are all these items for?”

Neuvillette placed his cup down, glancing at the items as well before saying casually, “Ah, they’re for you, my dear.”

Come again?

You blinked a few times, staring at your lover as if he just told you the most absurd thing.

“Eh? All of them…?” You clarified.

It didn’t help that the Iudex looked unbothered, as if this is almost nothing for him. “Yes, of course. Why do you look so surprised?” He asks. “I was only thinking of you and how you were while I was away, and I happened to find a lot of things that reminded me of you.”

“Neuvi…” You said, staring down at the bag, still processing the fact that your lover bought so many things in one day just for you. “I do hope you’re aware that you didn’t have to do such things! This is quite shocking for me!” You commented.

He hummed. “I am aware, of course. But I happen to find myself making a few spontaneous decisions that’s inspired from my trip. Do forgive me, my dear, I did miss you after all.”

You could only sigh with a smile of defeat. “Well, it’s not as if I can reject such thoughtful gestures from you, but do go on and tell me more about your trip. How was Qiaoying Village? I read Charlotte's article about Liyue’s tea industry earlier.”

“The trip is quite refreshing. I took the opportunity to try their local spring water, and the aftertaste is much purer than what was delivered to me in Fontaine.” He said with a pleased look.

You find yourself listening intently to him as he goes on about the waters of Liyue, not being able to hide the amused look on your face from how fond he is about tasting water, and it only took a few minutes before he changed the subject to something else.

“Ah, that reminds me, I mentioned earlier that my trip happened to inspire a few spontaneous decisions, and one of them happened to be trying out ceramics.” He explains.

“My, the Iudex trying out ceramics?” You teased, causing his mouth to twitch upwards more.

“It’s quite an interesting activity. I’ve never once thought about how quotidian vessels were crafted until I participated in their very making. Nonetheless, I made something for you.” He adds.

To your shock, Neuvillette brought out a tea set with a design that reminded you of a certain sea creature. Who knew your lover would be amazing at the ceramic arts?

“Neuvi, you made these? For me?” You ask, aweing at the cute design that he made. “They’re so cute! You did such an amazing job, you made it by hand and everything!” You flattered him.

He smiled more from your compliment, placing the tea set down on the coffee table for you to touch and admire his work that he made just for you. “I thought it’d be good to give you this. It’d mean a lot to me if you’d accept.”

“Of course I will! You made this yourself, I couldn’t ask anything more than that.” You replied.

Suddenly, an idea came to your mind. “Tell you what, why don’t we use this for water tasting together when the next delivery arrives?”

“That’ll make me all the more happier, my dear.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

[serevena]

Loser!Ellie Headcanons

Pairing - Loser!Ellie Williams x fem!reader

a.n - if this flops, I didn’t post it, it doesn’t exist..anyway I need loser!Ellie in my bed rn thank u..I thought the audio at the end paired with the headcanon was perfect..pls enjoy <3

warnings - a loser lesbian, subtle depictions of lesbian sex, nsfw + sfw hc’s.

Loser!Ellie who when the first time you and her got intimate, you tried not to laugh, glancing down at her boxers to see they were covered in tiny bananas.

She was embarrassed to say the least, looking up at you and wondering if It was a turn off,

It didn’t change anything for you, but you found yourself chuckling the numerous times she’d wear silly boxers.

Loser!Ellie who begs for the littlest of things

Whether it’s letting her touch you, or letting her cuddle you.

She will always beg you for something.

Loser!Ellie with multiple pins on her backpack

The lesbian flag, plenty of space related-pins (obviously) and even a Savage Starlight pin.

Speaking of Savage Starlight, she will carry her comics everywhere.

Out shopping? At school? At work? They’re always there with her. Somewhere.

Loser!Ellie who is constantly running into something.

Whether it’s you, someone else, the wall, there’ll always be something ‘in her way’

Loser!Ellie who still wears long sleeves under her shirt despite it being 110 degrees outside.

Loser!Ellie who refuses to get a new pair of shoes until the current ones disintegrate

She will be buried in her converse before buying a new pair.

Loser!Ellie who whines when she kisses you.

Loser!Ellie who randomly bursts out in a voice from her favorite show and quotes the dumbest things.

Loser!Ellie who buys an ‘I love my girlfriend’ shirt with your face on it for Valentine’s Day.

Loser!Ellie who constantly sketches you and everything you do.

Loser!Ellie who picks a game to play on the PS4 only to change it five minutes later, only to change it back to the previous game and then decides she’s bored,

Only to turn off the PS4 and then decide there’s nothing else to do and goes back on it.

Loser!Ellie who can and will play the guitar until her fingers fall off..

Loser!Ellie who loves her girlfriend to the edge of the universe and back <3

My lovelies <3 @yazzdoodles @urmommyluvr @elliewilliamswife @spaceshipellie @ellieszm @machetegirl109 @lottiematthewsceo @rekles

[lecsainz]

Hope you're doing amazing! I love your blog so much! I come here almost every other day to day dream about my favourites and read your pieces again and again. Could i request Carlos x reader fic where Carlos comforts the reader after some reporters prod into their private life and the reader feels overwhelmed... Angst to fluff and maybe smut in the end?

SHE’S A BAD BAD GIRL

parings: carlos sainz x famous!reader

authors note: I gotta say, mixing a bit of AU with regular fanfic, can I just say I love doing magazine features?

summary: that one where the media makes up stuff about your relationship with carlos but he ain't gonna let that shake our relationship.

☆. . . masterlist !

Exclusive Source Reveals Startling Insights Into the Relationship of F1's Rising Star and the Elusive Heiress

The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?

By TMZ Magazine - September 2023

In the glitzy world of fame and fortune, where the line between reality and illusion often blurs, power couples are born just as swiftly as they fade away.

None have captured the public's attention quite like that of Formula 1 sensation Carlos Sainz Jr. and the enigmatic heiress Y/N Y/L/N. This power couple's whirlwind romance has been the subject of intense speculation, with many questioning the authenticity of their love. In a TMZ exclusive, we delve into the inner workings of their seemingly sensational union, revealing what lies beneath the surface.

It's no secret that the world of celebrity romance often blurs the lines between genuine affection and calculated publicity. In the case of Carlos Sainz Jr. and Y/N Y/L/N, sources close to the couple suggest that their relationship might be more PR strategy than a heartfelt connection. Our exclusive source, a close friend of the couple, disclosed that the pair has carefully orchestrated their romance to maximize benefits on both ends.

"They both know that being in the spotlight can help boost their respective careers," our source shared. "They decided it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. Carlos gets more media coverage, and Y/N can use his popularity to her advantage."

Y/N Y/L/N, the elusive heiress whose life has been shrouded in mystery, has raised eyebrows with her numerous high-profile relationships over the years. It's no secret that she's been romantically linked to at least eight A-list celebrities, including musicians, actors, and even fellow heirs. Despite her apparent aversion to fame and the media circus that surrounds it, Y/N has consistently found herself in the headlines due to her high-profile affairs.

"The irony is that Y/N has always claimed to hate the attention that comes with dating famous people," our source revealed. "Yet, she's continued to choose partners from the same world she professes to despise."

As the couple's relationship has garnered more attention, their PR teams have been working tirelessly to manage the narrative. They've employed tactics such as carefully timed public appearances, social media posts, and interviews to keep the public intrigued and invested in their romance. This calculated approach, however, has led many to question the authenticity of their connection.

"Their teams are skilled at using the media to their advantage," our source admitted. "It's all about perception and maintaining their status as a 'power couple.'"

As the world continues to watch this captivating couple's every move, one question lingers: Is their love story genuine, or is it a calculated maneuver to seize the attention of the masses and advance their respective careers? Are Carlos and Y/N truly in love, or are they orchestrating a well-choreographed PR campaign for mutual benefit?

Stay tuned for more exclusive updates and revelations from TMZ Magazine.

Y/N lay sprawled across the plush sofa in the cozy living room of her shared home with Carlos in Spain. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting warm rays of light across the room. She'd been catching up on some reading when her phone buzzed incessantly, drawing her attention away from the book.

The headline on her screen was impossible to miss: "The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?" The TMZ article had surfaced online, and her heart sank as she read through the scandalous claims about their relationship. It was a relentless invasion of their privacy, dissecting their love as if it were a staged performance.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, and she felt overwhelmed by the intrusion into their lives. She knew she had to confront this with Carlos, who had always been her rock in times of turmoil.

Carlos entered the room, sensing the tension in the air. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he sat down beside her.

She handed him her phone, unable to speak the words herself. Carlos read through the article, his expression growing darker with every word. He clenched his jaw, his protective instincts kicking in. "This is complete nonsense," he muttered angrily.

Carlos's anger simmered as he continued to read the invasive article. His protective instincts flared, and he couldn't fathom how anyone could twist their love into something so far from the truth.

"They have no idea what they're talking about," Carlos said, his voice low but filled with determination. "This is just trash journalism trying to stir up controversy."

Y/N looked up at Carlos, her eyes filled with gratitude. She'd always admired his strength and resilience. "I know, Carlos, but it still stings. I hate how they're trying to make our love seem fake."

Carlos's expression softened as he turned to her. "Mi sol," he whispered, using the affectionate term he had for her. "Our love is as real as the sun streaming through those windows. Don't ever doubt that."

Y/N managed a faint smile, her heart aching a little less with his reassuring words. "I just wish we could shut them up, Carlos."

A mischievous glint flickered in Carlos's eyes as he looked at her. "Well, maybe we can," he said cryptically.

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, Carlos swept her into his arms and stood up. She laughed in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Carlos, what are you doing?" she asked, her laughter mixing with curiosity.

He grinned down at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm taking my sunshine to our room," he said, "away from all this nonsense."

Y/N couldn't help but giggle as Carlos carried her bridal style down the hallway to their bedroom. His laughter joined hers, and it echoed through their home, drowning out the noise of the world outside.

In that moment, as Carlos playfully carried her, Y/N realized that their love was a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of fame and gossip. It didn't matter what others said or wrote about them. What they had was real, unbreakable, and filled with a kind of love that could weather any storm.

As they reached their bedroom, Carlos gently set Y/N down, and they both burst into laughter. He pulled her into a tender kiss, sealing their promise to protect their love from the prying eyes of the world.

As Carlos set Y/N down in their bedroom, their laughter filled the air like a sweet melody, banishing the remnants of unease brought on by the intrusive article. With a loving smile, Carlos cupped her face in his hands, his gaze locked onto hers.

"You know," he whispered, his voice laced with desire, "there's one thing those journalists will never understand."

Y/N's breath hitched as she met his intense gaze. "What's that?" she asked, her voice barely more than a soft murmur.

Carlos leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing, tantalizing kiss. "That our love," he murmured, his voice husky, "is the real deal."

Their kisses deepened, their passion igniting like a flame. Carlos's hands slid from her face down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, and she moaned softly against his lips.

Their love was a fire burning brightly, an unbreakable bond that no amount of gossip or scrutiny could diminish. As their clothes fell to the floor, they reveled in the intimacy that was entirely their own, a celebration of their genuine love.

In the quiet of their bedroom, away from the prying eyes of the world, Carlos and Y/N proved that their love wasn't just a masterpiece of public relations. It was a passionate, fiery, and deeply genuine connection that left no room for doubt.

As their bodies entwined and their moans of pleasure filled the room, they knew that their love was their most cherished secret, a sanctuary where they could be their true selves, far away from the judgmental eyes of the world.

liked by charlesleclerc , taylorswift , and 13.657.473 others

carlossainz55 just had the best night of my life! thanks, gossipmongers, for the motivation.

tag: yourusername

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[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

They’re a runner, they’re a trackstar ☆

Masterlist

(From the 6th to 30th April, I am having a mini 100 follower milestone event!)

Tags: fluff Summary: you tease wanderer by kissing him and then running away

First time it happens, Wanderer is a ball of confusion despite all of his smarts. What just happened? You run up to him in your usual golden retriever way, just suddenly kiss him in the middle of the street, mind you, and run off?? The worst thing is, you only kissed him once. Once. Where are the rest, messily placed on the rest of his face?? He huffs, he will definitely get his revenge!

By the second time that happens, Wanderer is already prepared. He already knows your tactic but despite all of his prep, you still manage to escape, leaving behind a red faced Wanderer and his many colleagues looking at him teasingly. He tries to search for you among the numerous bookshelves before finally surrendering when the alarm he set rings, calling him to return to his stack of theses waiting to be finished. Wander touches the spot where you kissed him as he sits back down.

Third time’s the charm and he finally manages to chase you down. You approached him as usual, hands behind your back and that smug little grin like your plan already worked. A quick peck before you break into a well anticipated sprint… everything would have worked out had Wanderer not immediately sprints after you. Anemo amps up his speed, leading to your defeat. You try to push him away feebly with your hands while struggling against his hold. He cackles in his typical Wanderer way before diving down for the kisses you owe him after all that teasing. Feather light kisses rain all over your face, tickling you until you respond with your own flurry of kisses.

A/N: Happy white day (this is not a white day post lol) and everyone please say happy birthday to my sister (15/3) if possible! Taglist: @amyminhminh

[mbthomastumblesagain]

The Viv I knew is dead and gone.

I was hoping not to talk about this since, in all honesty, it's really a nothing burger. But since there's been drama with Vivienne Medrano and Spindlehorse, some of it worth talking about, some not, I feel like I need to throw my hat into the ring. I remember looking at Viv's work on DA back in the early 2010s and being intrigued and impressed. I even did some fan art for her multiple times for her birthday. When she announced that she needed assistance on her thesis film "Timber," I was happy to sign up. I also helped clean up "Die Young," and soon after, Viv and I had a good rapport. Until one day, on Facebook, I joked about wanting to work on my original projects but couldn't because I was helping Viv. I believe it went something like this, "Working on Die Young when you have some original ideas to focus on be like: "Please, mam, I want to see my wife and children." At first, she took it well and laughed it off. But then she treated me harshly and said she didn't appreciate the joke. I apologized, and we didn't mention it again. Until she started having a rage fit over a Zootopia and how their name was basically the same as Zoophobia (yeah, remember that?). I simply said on one of her Tumblr posts that what really mattered was how they handled the story and that the name was coincidental. Her fans didn't take that well and even said I needed to be beaten or killed for daring to not play on either side. I told Viv about this on FB, and she said I deserved it for making that joke from 2 years ago. We eventually talked it out and went back on good terms.

As time went by, we became more distant. She became busy with her projects, which were "Helluva Boss" and "Hazbin Hotel." I supported her through Patreon and even congratulated her on her Discord, thinking she remembered me fondly. It was only until Anime Pasadena that I would be proven wrong. I stood in line, hoping to chat with her about the animation industry and her projects and catch up. Despite being friends on Facebook and talking numerous times on social media, she acted like she had never seen me before. Even after hinting at some of the things I've done for her, she still acted dismissively towards me.

That's when it finally clicked in my mind: "The Vivienne Medrano I remember is dead and gone and is never coming back." It also made me look at all the criticisms she's received in a completely different light and that the stories about what goes on at Spindlehorse were all true. To everyone who has worked at SH mistreated by Viv and her crew, you have all my condolences and respect.

EDIT: for the crowd that likes to say "pics or it didn't happen"... Bonus: Proof that I worked on Die Young. This was the closest thing to any "payment" I got from Viv.

[butch-reidentified]

it's so cute how everyone acknowledges grooming as a real thing but as soon as we say (such as in conversations about female body hair removal) girls/women are groomed our entire lives to appeal to men, we're "misogynistic" for "calling women stupid"

Edit Jan 7, 2024:

My wife thinks I should have included an analogy in the original post (like the CEO example in my recent reblog), but in my conversation with her she pointed out that under the broad definition of grooming, all raising of children could be considered "grooming them for adult life." She makes a good point!!

The actual definition isn't inherently about sexual predation despite what the internet may have led some of you to assume. This is a good opportunity for me to remind *everyone* to fact check *everything* you learn online before repeating it to anyone and possibly spreading misinformation - including definitions of words you learn online! We ALL do this sometimes!

Screenshot below of #2 and #3 under the definition of "grooming" (#1 is obviously about animal fur lol):

I do find it interesting that the broader definition (#2) inherently includes what is detailed in #3, yet #3 was explicitly added (I assume at a later date than #2, given the context and numerical order). It's redundant, and I do have some criticisms of the way it's worded/the specifics of it. I wonder how other dictionaries define it.

[valyrfia]

I’ve been thinking about it, and I now firmly believe that Charles signed a pre-contract with Red Bull in the week before COTA. Initially, he did it with the intent of putting pressure on Ferrari but then over the course of the triple header he slowly started to realise that maybe honouring that pre-contract MIGHT be his best chance at a WDC. This is heavily reflected in the socials and PR of Red Bull, Ferrari, and Charles himself and ties together all the Lestappen interactions of the past couple of months from Max’s answers at press conferences to the infamous padel date. Buckle up, because it’s going to be a ride.

So I believe to pinpoint the start of the current PR wave/movement that we've coined as Lestappen Gate 2023 we have to look all the way back to Monza. Around Monza, there were numerous rumours that a huge Charles contract renewal was imminent and it was going to be announced, etc. etc. Charles did put these rumours to bed by saying if there were a contract like the one that had been rumoured, he would've signed it immediately. Now, I believe that with Charles confirmed to be unsigned (at around the same time that the George/Lewis and Oscar renewals would've been happening), Red Bull Racing approached Charles to reopen talks.

But I think Charles stalls them, isn't open to talks, until Singapore where Carlos Sainz wins. This throws Ferrari into complete disarray as Fred suddenly can't open talks with Charles as it would then be clear that he will not be re-signing Carlos Sainz. I think it then becomes obvious to Charles and his team that in order for the contract talks to begin they need pressure to negate Santander and the Sainz family breathing down Ferrari's throat. So Charles actively enters talks with Red Bull with the intent of putting that pressure on Ferrari. Also worth noting, Singapore also marked Charles as something special, a generational talent who is also willing to be an exception n2 driver when the team requires it of him, especially when his teammate starts on pole. I think this makes Red Bull even more eager to begin talks with Charles. Interestingly, this is where we get the first Red Bull Lestappen post of this current era, the Lecstappen alert.

This brings us through Suzuka to Qatar, Max winning his 3rd WDC, Charles congratulating him and then effuse about Max and Red Bull in interviews. Seeing the level of success that Max has had is what pushes Charles to decide that he is going to sign a pre-contract with Red Bull for a seat in 2025 because either way, he wins. He either manages to put pressure on Ferrari to get a contract with all the clauses he wants (external brand deals, his own branding, car development to suit him, etc.) OR he gets the MOST talked about seat in F1.

Now this is a key point. I believe the padel date was an excuse to get Max and Charles in the same room. Specifically, for them to have a frank and honest chat about whether they could work as teammates and two n1 drivers on the same team. This is probably the first serious heart to heart that these two have had, which then explains their attitude and closeness in the triple header and them being more ready to be vulnerable and honest with and about each other. Then, in the week before COTA, satisfied that he could be teammates with Max if push came to shove, Charles Leclerc signs a pre-contract with RBR for 2025.

(It's also worth noticing that in the week before COTA, the Lando Norris to RBR rumours and talk noticeably died down, despite Oscar winning the sprint in Qatar).

Now this brings us to COTA, where Charles instantly starts to make PR moves to build a brand for himself. His first big move is signing with WME, a talent agency, and something that Ferrari drivers typically aren't allowed to do. The WME signing solidifies in my mind that a pre-contract exists, because if there is one thing Charles wouldn't do, it's jeopardise his chances of racing in F1. If there's a chance that Ferrari would drop him for this, he just wouldn't do it. However, if he has a guaranteed seat in 2025 no matter the outcome, he would totally do it. It must be said, I believe that Charles is using the pre-contract fully as leverage against Ferrari at this point UNTIL the strategy fuck up. After the strategy fuck up, Charles is noticeably angry and outspoken about it, and Fred starts to freak out a little bit. RBR in the mean time, are starting to try and change the Lestappen narrative from rivals to a duo, with Charles starting to feature heavily on RBR socials.

Moving on to Mexico, Charles does well, considering. But what's important about Mexico is that this is the first time that Charles has truly been treated like a villain by the fans at the track. This is key, not only because of RBR's reaction to it (which I will explore), but also because this is Charles's first taste of what a move to RBR could be like, of what it would feel like were he to become the antihero rather than the golden boy of F1. However, the real clincher is that rather than RBR playing into the narrative of Charles the villain, even despite him literally being involved in the DNF of their own driver (Checo) at his home race, they instead make sure to capture all angles of Charles and Max interacting and one of their own pays special attention to Charles on the podium. In a way, this is the weekend that shows Charles that even though Red Bull and Ferrari are completely different, Red Bull can still be as much of a family to him as Ferrari has been if he wants them to be. Moreso, in fact, considering Ferrari didn't even bother showing up to Charles's P3 podium.

So entering the weekend in Brazil, Charles is pictured wearing his own clothing line that it was rumoured Ferrari forced him to discontinue and Fred Vasseur is starting to get shit scared and starting to talk to anyone from media who will listen about how talented Charles is. Charles does put it on the front row, but there's no real Forza Ferrari about it, and Charles has stopped wearing Ferrari merch in the paddock. A Red Bull employee (Max's PT Brad) is the first person to congratulate Charles on the front row.

Then, the DNS happens. A completely avoidable thing that happened due to Ferrari incompetency, and all hell breaks loose. Charles leaves the paddock before he can finish his Ferrari PR duties like a post-race video, and makes it very clear that he is FURIOUS in all his interviews. Now, laughably, at this point is when Ferrari-Charles contract negations began, or at least, that's what was leaked to the media. In my mind, Charles communicated very clearly to Fred at this point that his pre-contract with Red Bull is a very real threat, and Charles himself is beginning to seriously consider honouring it, and if Ferraro don't get together, they WILL lose their Il Predestinato to Red Bull. At this moment, Fred Vasseur is absolutely terrified. The world is very obviously on Charles's side and sympathetic after the DNS, while being at best apathetic and at worst hostile toward the Scuderia. Meanwhile, Red Bull continue with their Lestappen antics across all social media channel, again publicising the idea that Max and Charles are close and may have once been rivals but are buddies now, like in their tiktok of Max doing the "just an inchident" trend.

Now I haven't mentioned the onboards yet, which were spotted by some eagle eyes fans during the Mexico and Brazil GP weekends, in which Charles's onboard was displayed very clearly alongside their actual drivers, Max and Checo. But the existence of the onboards on the Red Bull pitwall make perfect sense if Charles did sign a pre-contract. Red Bull are gathering data to sway Charles further, almsot a "yeah so here's exactly where Ferrari fucked your race, and here's is what we would've done differently."

The break in the triple header, Charles is noticeably refraining from Forza Ferrari-ing. Rather, he calls the paps on himself on more than one occasion and make sure he is seen with several high profile celebs, strengthening his public image and building his own narrative. Meanwhile, Ferrari is in full damage control mode, taking responsibility for the DNS, acknowledging Charles in a way they haven't fully done since Singapore. There are more leaks of contract negotiations, but Charles does not engage with them. Meanwhile, Red Bull are keeping up their Lestappen propaganda. Charles is making it clear to all parties that this pre-contract that he initially intended to just be a bargaining chip has suddenly become a serious threat to Ferrari.

Finally, this brings us to last weekend, Vegas. Charles, again, refuses to Forza Ferrari. Ferrari PR have put Charles and Red Bull content on absolute LOCKDOWN with not a HINT of Lestappen anywhere, and Max is making comments about the choice of team being important in winning even for generational talents while Charles fidgets and looks away. Fred praises Charles to hell and back again, implying that Charles will obviously be prioritised over Carlos by diminishing Singapore, but in the post-race, Charles still gives nothing. Just a thinly veiled comment about how good it feels to be fighting at the front again. Meanwhile, Red Bull amp up the Charles content even more, even fully posting a picture just of Charles's car. There are also not one, but two questions about Max and Charles's karting past. In discussion with my academic colleagues (@tsarinablogs, @thearchercore, @gaslightgirlsummer (further thanks for all three of them, for entertaining a much rougher draft of this essay a few days ago)), we've talked about the possibility that these questions might have themselves been planted in the media rooms, in order to further cement the idea and control the narrative of Charles and Max, childhood rivals turned dynamic duo. The sort of narrative one might find intriguing around teammates.

So this concludes my essay. I am almost sure that Charles has a pre-contract with Red Bull, which is why he is suddenly so outspoken about the problems and failings of Ferrari. Although this pre-contract originally began as a bargaining chip, I believe that Charles is seriously considering honouring it. Ferrari are desperate, and Red Bull have the upper hand and are starting to pave the way for a media shift in how Charles and Max as a pairing are perceived.

[lazuruspit]

Dog Days Are Over — (m)

pairing: miguel o’hara/afab!reader  content warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional baggage, established relationship, angst and smut in the form of cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex wc: 3.9k summary: Feeling broken following a particularly perilous mission, you find yourself hanging on by tendrils. Lucky for you, Miguel’s always there to pick your pieces back up. a/n: its come to this..... cant believe its come to this. i was debating posting this on my dc tumblr blog since this is comic centric but... whatever. enjoyyyy

ao3

Miguel’s muscles are tense. Rigid, tight, like a disciplined dancer. He’s hunched over his console, shoulders square and eyebrows taut. His jaw is tense, tongue rounded into the corner of his cheek, hair falling like spun-thread sable over his hooded eyes.

His fingers—dry, jaded, thick—curl around the lip of his instrument panel. His forearm flexes beneath the spandex of his suit, veins popping with the strength in which he grasps the dashboard. He grunts, eyes tired, and speaks without turning.

“I can feel you thinking over there,” Miguel rasps. 

You flush, a little embarrassed to be caught but– not surprised. Miguel’s constantly heedful; a predator perpetually stalking its prey. 

“Sorry,” you hum, resting your shoulder against the metal door of Miguel’s private room, jamming your hands in the pockets of your casualwear.

He slightly turns. “What are you doing, standing there? Come in, don’t act modest.”

Then the thick sensation of soiled cotton balls seems to fill your nose: you're here for a specific reason, and the very thought of letting Miguel in on that secret seems to seize your every thought.

“What is it, mi alma?” Miguel asks, gaze centred on a labyrinth of holograms of different Spider-People in different universes. Despite that, his focus—each of his five heightened senses—are attuned to you. 

So, after blindly sweeping the holograms away, Miguel turns to you, resting himself and his hands against the edge of his console. His body language reads of vulnerability—something he hopes you’ll do for him, as well. He can tell something is off.

You inhale, loiter your eyes across his body, then exhale. It’s rare to see Miguel in casual clothing at headquarters—rarer to others, but not so much to you. 

(Miguel always shows you a different side of him. Both figuratively and literally. You’re the only one he’ll bare himself to, let you see him jaded and threadbare after he was hit a little too hard.)

Miguel tilts his head, his band tee riding over his navel garnished with a brown scruff that disappears into his sweatpants, hanging low on his hips.

He slowly reaches out and traces your cheek. Miguel’s hands are rough—a testament to his decades of Spider-Man discipline—but the whispering caress with which he cups your cheek offsets that fact. He curls his lower lip out, pinches his eyebrows.

“ ¿Qué pasa? ” He asks, tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear. 

He’s gentle, so gentle with you, and you hate it. It makes it so much harder for you to say what you need to. 

Asphalt thickens and settles in your throat. You look away, and flinch at the cold absence of Miguel’s comforting stare. So you chance a glance back, and bite your lip as you study his concerned mien.

“You’re making me a bit nervous,” Miguel mirthlessly chuckles, struggling to fill the pregnant air.

“No, don’t worry,” you hurry, moving to hold Miguel’s cheeks, trace the streamlines of his numerous scars, “last thing I need is you worrying.”

“Well, with a little shit like you, I do a lot of worrying,” Miguel says, crossing his eyes to twirl a strand of hair around a finger, “I’ve already got grey hairs, mierda .”

His words carry no real malice, but still, Miguel’s words are only the shell of a joke. His eyes fog over as he says it. He’s referring to last month's injury: a deep slash running like a scythe of death against your thigh—something that almost was death—if it wasn’t for Hobie swooping in and tackling Earth-95’s Doc Ock to the ground before you bled out.

“Well…” you start, straightening– then wincing, upon being gravely reminded of your fresh wound that stretches and pulls, “you won’t have to worry for a little while… I’ll be out of your hair.”

Miguel’s eyes marginally widen. He pushes himself off the console, blinking a few times.

“Your grey hair,” you belatedly decide to tack on. 

“No,” Miguel shakes his head, brushing past your lame attempt at a joke. His pinched features sober into something a little more soft, and you’re regretful that you won’t get to enjoy it much considering the news you’re about to break to him, “What are you talking about?” 

You inhale sharply. “I’m… I’m going home for a bit, Miggy–”

And that’s the moment panic seizes him. Miguel stands up straight, his sheer body mass and height eclipsing your vision, and places his hands on your waist.

“No, you’re not, what are you–?”

“But I am, Miggy. I’m going home. Just for a little bit, okay?” It’s hard to keep the warble out of your voice. It’s hard to miss it, too.

(It’s not the warble Miguel has come to love. Not the one that billiards past your lips and into the shell of his ear, as his fingers are knuckle-deep nestled inside of you and crooked. It’s not the tight whimper he bullies out of you as he sinks his cock past your cunt’s first ring of muscle. It isn’t one of your kitten moans, when you puckishly curl into Miguel’s arm late at night, resting on his chest as you muse about everything and nothing. This is a new cadence—one he doesn’t like—one like the little cry of anguish that wafted past your lips as Hobie lay dead, a spot that should’ve been yours.) 

“Mi alma…” Miguel peters off.

You clear your throat. “I talked to Jess… well, we talked to each other…” 

Miguel hates where this is going. He also hates that the diablo on his shoulders asks, “why couldn’t she come to me?” instead of being glad you confided in someone at all. He furrows his brows, listening.

“We think– we think it’s best I just go home for a while,” you cough out a bland chuckle, “maybe she just wants me gone—and I can’t blame her—but… I think… I don’t know. Maybe you can give me some of Margo’s tech.”

“... Why not stay here?” Miguel says, with me, he so desperately wants to tack on, but he reminds himself that this isn’t about him. This is about you, and the slow supernova to your eyes. 

(He made the deaths of his fiancée and daughter about him. Miguel’s learned that moving on is finding a new flower to nurture, standing an arms length away to let it bloom.)

“... Okay,” Miguel whispers, “how… how long will you be gone?” 

You shrug, and Miguel’s face pains.

“That’s okay,” he hurries, trying a smile, “as long as you need, mi alma.” 

Miguel steps closer, pulling you into his arms. Strong, protective, warm… you’re inclined to slip into a dream, leave all your problems behind. 

“Just close your eyes,” Miguel whispers, running his fingers through your hair.

You bury your face in Miguel’s chest, choking back a tight, tiny whimper.

“Can’t,” you murmur, “I still see him.” 

Pain physically throttles Miguel’s heart at that. He wishes he could take away your pain, just as you had taken away his, and his breath, and all forms of cognition. But… he doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t know how to say the right thing, let alone what the right thing is. So Miguel opts to plant a kiss to the crown of your head, where your unwashed face and brittle hair meet. 

You pull back after that, just scarcely enough to stare into Miguel’s eyes, wishing you could fall into them.

“Miggy…” you breathlessly utter, like a prayer, an olive branch of atonement, “I need…”

Miguel rests his forehead against yours. “What is it that you need? Tell me. Tell me everything.” 

You don’t tell, you show. Timidly. You rake your shaky palms lower, shucking Miguel’s crop top over your hands, placing a kiss to the corner of his jaw.

“Mi alma…” he lightly scolds, catching your wrist within his big palm, “not now.”

“Why not?” You croon, wrapping your arms over Miguel’s shoulders and behind his thick neck.

“We can’t,” he tells himself, more than you, “you’re…”

“Needy–”

“Not thinking straight–” 

“Wet.”

Miguel’s breath hitches. Right in the middle of his throat, it catches, tripping and tumbling out of his mouth as a tight cough. 

"Mierda..."

You lean in close, brushing your lips against his collarbone. “It’s what I need right now, Miggy, won’t you give me what I need?”

Miguel’s lips wrap around your name as he quietly whispers it. “I want to give you everything.” 

“So?” You say, forlorn, “Will you make me feel good?” 

“I’ll do anything,” Miguel whispers. It’s a promise; it’s atonement.

Miguel spins you around with his hands on your hips and bullies you backwards, trapping you against the lip of the console. He slides his palms on either side of your neck, cranes your head up, and plants a smooch to your lips. 

“Mi alma…” he mumbles into the kiss, slotting his thick thigh between your legs. 

Miguel kneads your hips and tugs you down on his leg, flexing it, guiding you back and forth as you grind your pussy over the strong sinews of his muscled thigh. You whine, clutching his shirt, and beg for more, a little sniffle crossing your swollen lips. 

Miguel runs his hands down, fingers biting into the fat of your thighs as he lifts you up, plopping you atop the control panel. From there, he nestles himself between your legs, and shucks your shirt (his shirt) over and around your head, moving to suck your neck. 

You shiver as his fangs graze your pulse point. You dig your fingers into his tousled hair and pull, mired in the sweet cacophony of Miguel’s moans, softened by the way his lips are pressed into your collarbone. He ruts his cock against the supple skin of your inner-thigh, baring his fangs as the cotton of his sweatpants reduces friction. 

Miguel comes up for air just as you sink your fingers beneath the hem of his sweatpants. You drag them down with sparse tugs, revelling at the sight of his cock that strains against the taut fabric of his boxer-briefs as his sweats pool at his feet. 

You sprawl your hand atop his dick and palm him softly, squeezing the fat mass of muscle that tents from his boxer-briefs. You peer up at him, doe eyes pleading, and Miguel sinks to his knees.

He cranes his neck up at you, musing a corporeal prayer to the altar that is your body, and kisses a trail up your flesh. Miguel latches onto your shorts and pulls them down, puckering his mouth before kissing your clothed clit. The excited bud pulses under the plush of Miguel’s lips, swelling, slick as your arousal oozes out of your cunt, sticking to your panties, outlining the barest hint of your soft pussy. 

After the kiss, Miguel shifts upward, and sinks his fangs into the gauzy material of your panties. He hooks it with his teeth, dragging the soiled fabric down your legs and off your ankles before lowering again, kneeling eye-level to the winking of your dewy cunt. You quiver and raise your legs, placing your feet onto the counter, baring your sticky pussy to Miguel, spreading yourself open with careful fingers.

“So pretty, my love,” he mumbles, popping drunken smooches onto the buttery inside of your trembling legs, “ todo mío .”

Miguel paints your thighs in a mosaic of love bites, inching towards the pulsing beat of your cunt as he settles in front of it, unfurls his tongue, and lays it flat against your folds. 

He licks a fat, warm stripe up your slit, growling as you coil your thighs around his full shoulders and thick neck and hasp him closer. You twist a fistful of Miguel’s dark hair between your fingers, pulling him closer, meagrely grinding your sweet clit against his cracked lips and the bump on his nose.

(You always did tell him he lacked vitamin D, needed to eat more oranges. Miguel thought it was fruitless—that you kissing him, having your chapstick smear against his lips, would be ample moisturiser for his dry mouth.

You had to force the serums on him. Miguel gets too caught up in his web of responsibilities and thawed regrets, oftentimes neglecting himself. So you clutch him by the jaw, the rough flesh of his half-sunken cheeks from empanadas in the cafeteria spilling over your fingers, and smooth some of your chapstick onto his lips. It’s cute, he gets nervous; reverting his stare to the ostentatious ceiling of HQ and sticking it there, too shy to meet your gaze as you get too close.)

Miguel pulls away for air, a wash of your precum glistening his chin. He darts his tongue out to clean it up—a fang peeking out in the process—winking under the lustre as it catches the light. You whine at the loss of Miguel’s tongue buried between your folds, inclined to use your web shooter to stick him back in place.

But Miguel’s quicker. “Patience,” he says, placating you with a kiss, letting your taste percolate into your mouth as he cards his tongue past your teeth.

“We’ve got to stretch you open first, don’t we? Hm?”

You loosely nod, breathless.

“That’s right,” he says, “it’s always quite the tight fit.”

Miguel stands between your legs and eclipses your world, readying his thick fingers by running them between your folds, lubing them up.

“Ready for me?” He asks, looking through your eyes and into your soul.

You answer with a kiss—one that says so much more than yes . It’s a barter, where you hand your life over to Miguel, and a promise to find him in every universe. 

Miguel’s lips tilt up in a fickle smile as he sinks a large finger in, followed by another, moving to rest his forehead against yours.

“I hate you,” he whispers, pumping his fingers in-and-out, “for making me weak, making me break my promise.”

(As Miguel’s inflexion weakens, he hides his face in the crook of your neck. It’s obvious what promise he’s talking about: the vow made to the corpses of his child and fiancée. That he wouldn’t move on, that he’d turn black and blue in the name of penance. 

But then you came along; crashing into his world like the luminous death of a star. 

And just like it, albeit destructive, powerful and bright, he couldn’t look away.)

Miguel continues, blindly sweeping at your clit, rolling his jaded thumb over it as he scissors you open.

“I hate you for leaving me,” he finishes, crooking his fingers a little deeper, a little meaner , into the warmth of your pussy. 

“I– I’m not…” you pant, too caught up in Miguel fucking you with his fingers to form a better defence.

“I know,” he nods, his forehead still pressed against yours—a tender blip in the streamline of his fingers’ thrusts, “you’ll come back when you’re better, and things will go back to normal.”

Miguel buries his fingers knuckle-deep, pawing and circling at the sticky walls of your pussy.

He rolls your clit with a deft thumb and latches onto your neck, biting and kissing.

(The nipping is a sign of defiance from Miguel, the reluctance of letting you go, and the kissing… because he’s seen the catatonic look in your eyes. Your face—usually sweet, albeit scarred—leaden with guilt as you broke the news to the Spider-Society.

Guilt doesn’t look good on you, Miguel decided. Only puckish smiles. Only sheepish glances.)

Just your face, moulded into extreme pleasure as your orgasm draws close, eyes squeezed shut and nails digging into his flexing forearm. That’s what looked good on you.

Miguel doesn’t fasten his pace as you tail your orgasm. Just keeps thrusting his fingers, thumb pressing into your clit, lips sweetly trailing your jaw.

He curls them once more, pushing the pads of his fingers deeper, into the squishy-spot inside you that has your jaw slacking, head tipped back, baring your neck, and your orgasm cresting to new heights.  

Miguel’s keenly aware, pouncing onto your pulse-point and licking the sheet of sweat off of your skin as he keeps finger-fucking you, walking you through your orgasm.

“That’s it,” Miguel praised, lending you his broad shoulder as you quivered.

(The two of you have been in this position before—vulnerable, trembling, except those times you were bonding over the rigours of vigilantism and regret and baring the skeleton’s in your closet to each other, not panting from the tremors of your orgasm.)

“More,” you whined, cupping Miguel’s face, acutely aware of the absence of his cheeks—sullen, instead.

Miguel tries a smile and slides his hands under your thighs, picking you up, carrying you over to a low table, setting you down.

He bullies you onto your back and nudges your legs open with his knee, brushing his knuckles over your clit. The bud is still sensitive, so you flinch under Miguel’s touch. 

(A part of you always thought he was bad for you. Miguel was your becoming, but…

he also was your eventual doing.)

“My girl,” he mumbles, “my pretty, pretty girl. Te amo.”

(You ask yourself… why does your response get stuck in your throat?)

Miguel pulls away, only marginally enough to tug down his boxer-briefs. The fabric stretches against his thighs as his cock springs out, softly slapping his navel, red and leaking precum, solid, angry , standing tall.

He holds your gaze as he gives his dick a few jerks, heavy balls lightly bouncing as Miguel steps out of his boxer-briefs, sets your calves atop his shoulders, and cuts his fingers into your thighs.

“Do you need me? As bad as I need you, mi alma?” He asks, and it’s obvious he isn’t just talking about sex.

But you nod, silently because you don’t trust yourself—you don’t think you ever have—and edge yourself closer to the lip of the table, egging Miguel on.

He expels a breathless chuckle, and slips his heavy dick between the fat of your cunt, rubbing himself with your dewy folds.

“ Mierda… ” he grunts, slapping his cock against the velvet of your inner thighs, “you drive me fucking crazy.” 

You smile lazily, wrapping your legs around Miguel’s lithe waist, beseeching him with rolling hips and pleading eyes for him to just fuck you already . 

Miguel smiles as he sinks the fat head of his cock past your tight ring of muscle, his face squeezing into pleasure.    

He keeps going—slowly, filling out your every ridge—until he kisses your pelvis and almost folds you in half. You’ve never felt so full . Miguel makes a home in your tummy, pressing down on your navel as he feels for his cock, feels it pulse and throb in your pussy. 

Miguel pulls his hips away, and you throw your head back as his cock drags along your walls, his fingers toying your clit. He lowers over you, folding you in half and into a press, leaning down to catch you in a kiss. 

This way, Miguel eclipses your entire world. Your lips, your sex, your every inch; he’s your body’s beginning and end.

Miguel slams himself back inside of you and you squeal. It’s jarring—how gravely different Miguel’s fast-paced, desperate thrusts are to the gentle way he holds your face to his, peppering kisses on your cheeks.

He presses so close, as if trying to mould your souls into one. His mutated DNA comes out at this time—like clockwork—and he loses composure, clawing you close, hips snapping into you as he growls into your neck.

His thick brows furrow, full lips tightening, beads of sweat running down his sinewy back that you scrabble at as an outlet for the sharp thrusts Miguel drives into your wet cunt. Your walls flutter around him and you swoon, his hands sneaking under your shirt, running over your pebbled nipples, tweaking them between his jaded fingers. 

“Miggy–” you whine, twisting tufts of his hair in your hands, digging your nails into his muscly shoulders, “I want it all, please. Please give it to me.”

Miguel feels himself tiptoeing the edge of sanity. Yes, a thousand times yes, he’d give you anything you ask. His life, if you wanted it; his heart served on a silver platter; his skin, his bones, his cartilage. 

But Miguel knows what you mean. Because he wants it too. That primal little scratch at the back of his head kindles to life just as Miguel feels his balls tightening. When he feels you clench down on him, back arching, he can tell you’re close too. 

(Miguel knows you well. A little bit more than he’d like to, because he could see the exact day the light left your eyes. How they didn’t light up again upon seeing him. 

And Miguel chose to ignore it.)

He holds you a little closer, weaving his fingers with yours, grunting against your lips. 

Your orgasm washes over you as the sea extends into the sand. It’s all at once cold, blistering, and envelopes you whole, leaving no room for thought of anything else. You squeeze your eyes closed as you gush over Miguel’s cock, panting, rutting your hips up and meeting him halfway as he empties his balls inside of you.

“There we go,” Miguel breathes, pushing his cock into you a few more times until it can’t possibly go any deeper, filling you with his seed, “that’s it.”

You stare at each other as his cock softens inside you. It’s left to marinate a bit, still lightly pulsing, throbbing within your sensitive cunt. Then, Miguel shoves his face into your clavicle, noses your sweaty flesh, and deeply inhales. 

He wants to remember your scent, the last moment you shared before you returned to your universe for however long you needed to be there. 

(Your scent isn’t your usual one, though. Usually it’s sweet. Salty if it’s after training. But today it’s tangy—bitter. Miguel doesn’t like it, but he inhales nonetheless, damned if he’d let you go before committing this moment to memory.)

Miguel pulls away, an unstable smile gracing his lips. He works himself back into his sweatpants and helps you get dressed, nerves coiling in his stomach. 

When you turn to look at him, fully dressed, eyes dark, he gulps.

Miguel walks closer, sets his hands on your waist.

“When will I see you again?” He asks.

“Before you can say the word S-Man .” 

Miguel folds his lips, but nods. 

You look down at the watch secured to your wrist, fighting the scowl that betrays your emotions. It looks like a house arrest brace, and you suppose it's not that far off, either, holding you down in place. Constantly. 

But you key in your Earth and stare as it projects a kaleidoscopic threshold before you, twirling with golds and greens and whites. 

You turn to Miguel and step closer, eyes welling up as you set a palm to his cheek, kissing him. 

(It’s cursory, Miguel thinks. Because you’ll come back one day, finish what you started; finish the kiss, Miguel tells himself.)

You turn around and walk into the egress, a weight lifted off of your shoulders; the weight transferred to Miguel.

The portal closes, and your smell hangs thickly in the air.

With you, you had taken the rest of Miguel’s heart.

And he hasn’t gotten it back.

That was the last time he ever saw you.

[pinkkittysaw]

FIVE NIGHTS AT MIKE’S

pairing: mike schmidt x plus sized! female reader

summary: you spend the night at your boyfriend’s place

word count: 5,735

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI, you will be blocked!) post canon (but still in the year 2000), established relationship, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), minor pussyjob, breast/nipple play, protected sex (use of condom), intimacy kink, both reader and mike have pubes

a/n: does anyone else miss blockbuster? because i do 😔 long live physical media! also i did my due diligence and calculated prices of things to my best of my ability for the year 2000 so even if my price match isn’t EXACT, it’s close. this ended up…unexpectedly softer than i thought it would. never did i think i would be stringing sentences together like this to describe mike from FNAF but alas, here we are ^_^

dividers by @/kimjiho1 & @/saradika

"See ya, rugrat," you say to the eager girl as she hugs both you and her brother at the entrance of their front door. She huffs, only slightly, when you ruffle her brunette curls, sporting a faint pout once she pulls away from your hold. You chuckle, kneeling to her height, before attempting to fix the mess you created, smoothing out the hairs that lay atop her head the best you could.

"Call us if you need anything, okay?" Mike repeats for the nth time that night since Abby started getting ready.

"Yeah, yeah." Abby dismisses her brother completely, heading toward the car parked in the driveway after she decides that her hair looks satisfactory enough.

It was a Friday night, both you and Abby had sleepover plans, her at a friend's house and you over at Mike's. Abby was so devastated when she found out that your sleepovers fell on the same day as each other—intentional planning on both your and Mike's part—that she almost bailed on her school friends. It was only when you promised to have a special girl's night with her the next time you stayed over that she eventually yielded, going through with her original plans for the weekend.

She was initially invited by one of her school friends. After Mike had sat through one of the world's most awkward conversations with Abby's friend's mom—one he made sure to recount once they arrived home—he decided that it was probably in her best interest to let her go out and socialize like this while she was still young enough to do so, despite whatever unspoken worries he had about her going off and spending the night on her own for the first time.

"Love you!" Abby yells from the rear car door before opening it and getting inside. The seats are filled with excitable little girls and one slightly apprehensive mom who smiles at you through the windshield. Though the sound is slightly muffled, Mike repeats the same words back to his sister.

He may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but after taking even the tiniest glimpse into their lives, it's obvious that he cares. Whether that's shown through him triple-checking her pack before she leaves for the evening, giving her friend's mom a list of her safe foods so that she doesn't go hungry, or reminding her numerous times that she can always call home if she needs to because no matter how independent she's become, it's okay to still need your older brother. Although you're sure Mike would say that he's anything but a good older brother.

Abby waves to you both as the car pulls out of the lot before she turns back to her friends again. You and Mike stand waving in the entryway as it turns off onto the street, leaving an empty spot in its wake.

"She's come a long way," you comment, turning your head towards him as he continues to stare out onto the pavement.

"Yeah."

You're unable to help the way your eyes roll at his statement, though it's lighthearted in nature. "It's thanks to you, you know." You nudge him in the side with your elbow.

"I think you had a hand in it too," he chuckles, smirking as his eyes meet yours.

"Just accept the compliment, Mike." You pat his shoulder, then turn on your heels to head back indoors, with him following suit.

"So...what should we do now?"

"I got a spare ten; wanna rent a movie?" You reach down for your wallet that's tucked in your overnight bag sprawled on his couch, pulling out the ten-dollar bill and puffing it between your fingers. "Let me treat you, baby," you coo, twirling around with the money in hand.

He scoffs a little at the display but still reaches for his keys and jacket off the rack. "Let's go."

The drive to the video rental store is a short one, as most of your time is spent lip-syncing songs to Mike that play through the static of his shitty radio.

Once you arrive, you divide and concur. Since Mike got to choose the movie last time, it was your turn, leaving him in charge of the snacks. You take your time leisurely perusing through the aisles, trying to find something that looks interesting enough before making your way to the "New Releases" section. It takes a while before anything catches your eye, but as you keep wandering, a title eventually jumps out at you.

You pick up the VHS and make your way over to check it out. Mike's waiting for you at the end of the aisle, his arms filled with popcorn, soft drinks, and candy. The two of you walk side by side over to the counter, where he drops all his snacks, and you slide over the movie. He lifts the corner of the box to look at the title before the case makes its way toward the cashier.

"American Psycho?" He asks, raising a brow.

"Yeah." You hand over the cash and your ID. "A coworker of mine said it was good, plus the trailer looked...interesting." You smile. "Why? Are you scared of a little horror film?"

"In your dreams."

"Guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

After thanking the cashier and collecting your bagged items, the two of you head back to his car.

It's not long after that the two of you arrive back at Mike's place, having changed out of your day clothes into pajamas.

After feeding the tape into the VCR, you plop back onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions, popcorn in hand, and snuggling into Mike's side.

Around six minutes into the movie, you comment in between bites of popcorn. "I know this movie is rated R, but I honestly wasn't expecting to see Christain Bale's ass."

Mike doesn't say anything in return, just side-eyeing you with a simple "Uh huh."

By the time the credits roll, both of your tummies are full of salty popped kernels and sweets, the evidence of which lies on his coffee table in the form of empty bags and wrappers.

Your bodies have shifted positions since the movie started. He's lying on his back, his body spread along the length of his couch, with you on your tummy nestled on top of him. Your cheek is squished against the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in while his chin rests on top of your head, his fingertips drawing slow circles on the small of your back.

The sensation makes you drowsy, both due to his warmth and the methodical motions of his fingers lulling you into an almost slumber.

"So, were you scared?" You tease, breaking through the serene atmosphere.

"Hm?" He mumbles, slow blinking himself to a higher state of alertness. It seems as if he too has been lulled into falling asleep on the couch alongside you.

"Were you scared?" you reiterate.

"Definitely not."

"Yeah... it felt more like a thriller than a 'horror' movie, I guess."

Mike hums in agreement, the two of you lying in silence before he speaks up again. "We should probably get off the couch now, hm?"

You groan a little, not wanting to move from your comfy position on top of him.

"Says who?" You fold your forearms across his sternum, settling your chin on top of your hands.

"Me." He quips, "It's getting late."

You huff, maneuvering your body so you can stretch and look at the clock on his wall. "It's only ten p.m." His eyes aren't open, but they don't need to be for him to tell that you have a pout on your face.

In your best attempt to dissuade him, you settle yourself back in the crux of his neck. "The night is still young."

"Says the one who was snoring up a storm on top of me a few minutes ago," he titters, poking your sides lightly so you'll fold in on yourself. "Using me as her personal pillow."

You don't engage anymore, choosing to stay right where you are in silence. If you don't talk, then no conversation needs to be had, and you can stay where you are. 

"Fine," he grumbles, effectively giving up. "We can stay like this a little longer." His fingers change positions now, moving from their persistent prodding to dragging the tips up and down your spine underneath your shirt.

"You're warm."

"You're warm...and snuggly... and safe." You plant a kiss on the exposed skin from the opening in his shirt.

"Safe? Never heard that one before." He smirks to himself amusedly.

"Don't start all that now," you tell him, looking up from your spot nestled in his neck.

"It's true," he retorts, "not sure any of my former employers would agree with you."

"First off, your previous employer was an actual madman. Secondly, I'm not one of your employers; I'm your girlfriend, and thirdly, you should know by now that I don't give a fuck about corporate."

Mike looks off to the side, not meeting your eyes. "You're not exactly a good influence on me, you know," he jokes.

"I never claimed to be." You move to lift yourself more and stroke his stubbled cheek with your finger. You sigh, "Look, I get that you haven't always been the most pacifistic person in the past, but...I mean it when I say I feel safe with you. And I know Abby is safe with you too, alright?"

He doesn't have the words to articulate the feeling that those words dredge up inside him, so he simply nods.

"Good." You lay back down on his front, staring up at him. "Wanna know one of my favorite things about you?"

You stage the question like it was a guessing game, but since he's unable to guess any good qualities about himself, all he responds with is "What?"

"Your eyes. So pretty."

The corner of his lip turns up in a smirk. This isn't the first time you complimented his eyes, and it surely wouldn't be the last. The warm, rich browns that make up his irises are sweet in color, despite him thinking they were as plain and boring as can be.

"You want to know what your eyes are telling me?"

"What?" You smile sweetly at him.

"That you're looking up at me like you want something."

"Maybe I do want something." You shuffle further up his body, settling yourself onto his lap, plush thighs surrounding his hips as you hold onto his forearms for stability.

"And what's what?"

You lean over him, slowly descending upon him, your face hovering just above his. "A kiss?" You wiggle your eyebrows up and down as if to entice him more.

"Go ahead."

"Really?"

"Could always change my mind."

"Meanie," you pout, but you meet him the rest of the way anyway, his lips melding with yours.

Trying to describe your relationship and the intimacy that came along with it was difficult. Trying to describe Mike was difficult. The closest thing that comes to mind is a skittish cat. He wasn't standoffish in the sense that he couldn't talk to anyone, but trying to get anywhere other than skimming the surface with him was a challenge, like a game of tug of war, a delicate balance of push and pull. If you charged forward too quickly, he'd retreat into a corner, baring teeth and claws.

It wasn't his fault, not necessarily. The death of his younger brother being the major catalyst as to why he kept himself so closed off. A death that he blamed on himself for the longest time.

He stayed approachable enough to get along with others on the barest of levels to not cause any problems. for the most part, and any attempts at digging in any deeper than he was willing to allow were met with resistance. If he never gets close, then he never has to lose, even if it means leading an even lonelier life down the road.

The only long-standing relationship he had left was with Abby. His final tether to humanity was the little sister whose life he was holding together with glue sticks and string.

To be honest, it was amazing that you got as close to him as you did. After his short stint at the run-down pizzeria, he asked you out, deciding that he was done trying to flee and cling to the past. It was time to start living in the present, taking care of those who needed him now while he still could.

The kiss is slow, meticulous, and intimate. A word that never used to be in Mike's vocabulary. It's warm. He's warm (and slightly squishy). The heat builds to a simmer inside your tummy.

His hands slide from your thighs to the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh between his fingers as he pulls you closer against his pelvis, causing a slight whimper to fall from your lips. All you want to do is melt in it, sink into the heat, and slowly let it consume you.

One of your arms wraps around the back of his neck while the other hand cradles his stubbled cheek. It was strange how a man could make you feel as if your whole heart was being consumed all at once. Sickly sweet words come to a boil on your tongue, but you swallow and exchange them for something more simple and primitive. Moans fill the air of his living room, with the more primal part of you taking over.

Your hips begin to rock gently against his, your tongue prodding at his teeth. The groan that comes out of you is a plea for entrance, one which he happily grants, parting his lips and allowing you to swallow him whole.

"That's it."

The kiss becomes a clash of teeth and tongues, nipping at each other's lips while wet muscles glide against one another.

You're not exactly sure why, but kissing Mike like this, in a way that's so raw and unrefined, makes you unbearably needy, not just in the pit of your stomach but in your heart too. You've grown to like this little life you've built here, tending to the seeds of your relationship with care. It hasn't been perfect per se, but it's been yours. You love it. You love his sister. You love him and you can't decipher whether that scares you or not. Excitement and anxiety both make your heart beat to the same erratic rhythm.

He's gentle with how he holds you. Square palms and thick fingers knead the flesh of your sides before sliding down to your rear to give that a firm squeeze as well, his hands guiding your body, rocking it back and forth on his half-hard cock.

A juxtaposition: knuckles once bloody and bruised, calloused fingers with skin split around the nails holding you, caressing your body as if it were velvet. If he were a bit more needy, drunk on love, he'd swear to the heavens that you were softer.

His hands move from your ass to breast, his fingertips delicately sliding up the curves. It's not the first time he's "discovered your body," nor is it the last, but all the times you have sex, which is not often enough, it always feels as loving as the first.

Thumbs brush against the ribs that hide beneath your shirt, soft in a way that makes your heart flutter before they reach their destination, swiping against the soft, stippling peaks of your nipples, your bra having long since been removed earlier that night when you returned to his place. Palms grasp at the fat of your bosom, kneading the flesh.

The roll of your hips increases while your lips separate from his, laying forehead to forehead as you pant lightly against him, breath cascading down his features. The grip of his fingers on your side tightens as he tries to stall your movements. "Stop...stop..." he puffs into your mouth, slight perspiration building on his brow from the heat.

You pout as your hips come to a full stop, peering down at him beneath you.

"I don't want to blow all over the couch," he explains.

"What a lovely mental image you've just given me," you snort, swinging your leg over him as you try to get up, only to be stopped by his hands once more.

"I never said I had a problem with getting my bedsheets dirty, though."

His lips clash with yours as he walks you backward down the hall toward his bedroom. You stumble through the door and crash onto his bed while he flips on his bedside lamp before collapsing on top of you. Another whine escapes you as you feel his hard-on through his PJ bottoms.

"Mike," you exhale, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I know, I know."

He repositions himself and you, by extension, so that he's lying on top of you properly. Lips move from yours to the corner of your mandible, planting quick kisses all over your skin as if trying to consume you. His facial hair tickles as it brushes against the skin of your neck, causing you to shrink up slightly while releasing a fit of small giggles.

You cling to every part of him just as he does to you, pushing up your shirt to lay claim to every inch of you. Though it's not fully removed, the material is left to rest above the swell of your breasts as he kisses his way down your sternum. He's deliberate as he moves down your body, attempting to cover as much of you in his sweetness as he can.

He takes extra care when he reaches your tummy, fingertips limber and gentle as he caresses the skin. Your eyes stay locked with his as his lips meet the curve of your stomach. Tender kisses are placed across it, showing appreciation for all of the parts of your body, not just the ones you've deemed worthy of his attention.

Sex wasn't always this "easy" between the two of you; even after dancing around each other and finally getting into a relationship, that didn't make all the vulnerability of the act any easier.

He wasn't bad at it by any means; he was just a little misguided. Although sometimes you regret having taught him as well as you have, especially now that he knows how to push all your buttons. 

His palms slide up your legs, from calves to thighs, fingers nestled into the waistband of your underwear and pajama bottoms, tugging them off in one fell swoop. A singular kiss is placed at the height of each thigh before he spreads your legs, exposing your sex to the cool air of his bedroom.

Nothing is said, but he does sit there for a moment, kneeling on the bed above you. When he finally does make his descent upon you, he presses a kiss so delicate right on the pudge of your mons. Then he moves to your left inner thigh, then the right, back and forth, back and forth, scrupulous, patient, and SLOW. The point of which is to get you as wet as possible without having directly touched you yet. It's made abundantly clear when he echoes those same thoughts back to you.

His thumb runs through your slit, dipping into your entrance, enough so that he barely breeches through, collecting some of your slick on the rough pads and dragging it up to your clit, rubbing tentative circles on the bundle of nerves.

"So wet," is all he says while continuing, circular motions with even pressure.

Lucky for him and (un)lucky for you, he can go as slow as he likes tonight, taking all the time in the world to warm you up, despite all your incessant whining.

He leans back to pull off his shirt, revealing a cute tuft of brown hair in the middle of his chest.

"You can be as loud as you want."

He lays on his stomach, right in between your legs, landing a singular kiss straight to your cunt before dragging the length of his tongue from your entrance to clit, giving that a kiss as well. He repeats the action a couple more times before settling himself right on your pussy, nose nestled in the wirey hairs of your mons. The wet muscle worms its way to your pulsing hole, digging in deep to drink down every drop that leaks from you.

It's always difficult to maintain eye contact with him like this; his almond irises are blown so wide that it's as if only his pupils remain. He licks and laps at your cunt like it's the only thing he was made to do. He worships your pussy like it's his favorite thing in the world, and has to prevent himself from humping the bed while he indulges himself in your taste. Even though he knows you find it hot as fuck whenever he cums just from eating you out, he needs to feel you stretched out on his cock.

Though unspoken between the two of you, you know that if you stare at him for too long while he makes out with your cunt, you'll cum way quicker than you mean to, and you know if you cum too quickly, he'll lay there and tongue-fuck you right through your next orgasm, because as much as he eats you out for your pleasure, he eats you out for his pleasure too.

Most of the time, you don't feel like giving him a big ego, so you tilt your head back and screw your eyes shut as his lips pucker around your clit and suckles it into his mouth. Even if you don't meet his gaze, he knows the effect he has on you just by the way your fingers rake through his curls, rooting themselves in his scalp while whimpering praises into the aether.

"Mikey."

The pet name used to make him groan and roll his eyes in frustration, but when you're spread out like this underneath him, it's his most favorite sound in the world.

Your opposite hand drifts to squeeze and knead at your breast, tugging at your nipple. His hand comes up to meet yours, warm and grounding, as he begins to work at your clit even more, sucking it more vigorously than before. Your hips begin to buck against his face, the scratch of his stubble giving your inner thighs a delicious beard burn as the heat begins to reach a boiling point in your belly. His fingers squeeze down on yours against your breast while your fists tighten in his hair.

You look down at him finally, and it's as if he can sense you're watching him because his eyes immediately snap up to meet yours. You can barely make out the slick coating his face in the low lamplight.

He works overtime now that he has your full attention, dragging his hand from your breast to your tummy, giving it a gentle squeeze before bracing his forearm across it, allowing for leverage as he sinks one, then two fingers into your cunt. He's quick but not rough with his movements inside you, curling in just the right spot to make you see stars.

Though your hips are restricted by him, you hurdle toward your impending orgasm. You reach down to meet his hand, and he happily clasps his fingers with yours, breaking eye contact with him when the coil finally snaps. Your back arches while your hand tightens around his, nails digging into the skin of his scalp, moans dribbling from your mouth with every passing second.

He eases you down from your high, kissing his way up your body before pulling off your shift completely and meeting his lips with yours, giving you a taste of yourself. You moan into the kiss, clinging onto him for dear life as you begin to wind down. He knows you're all set when your touch goes from frantic grabbing to gentle caressing.

He looks down at you; your expression is happy and a smidgen dopey, but nowhere near fucked out yet.

"Think you can handle some more?"

"Your tongue game isn't that good."

He scoffs. "Still coherent enough to give me lip, I'd say you're good."

He sits up, reaching toward his nightstand drawer, fishing out a box from inside.

"Oh, a new box of condoms..." You rise to your knees. slinging your arms around Mike from behind, your tits pressed up against his back. "Were you expecting to get laid tonight, Michael?" you tease, slowly kissing his neck.

"You say that as if it wasn't your idea to spend the night when Abby had her sleepover." He fiddles with opening the box, tearing off a single condom from the rest.

"If I recall, you weren't opposing the idea either," you goad, trailing your lips onto his freckled shoulder. "It's good that we're being responsible; now come here. I want more kisses." You take the condom from between his fingers and place it back on his nightstand along with the box as you urge him back down on top of you.

He obliges, his lips meeting yours as you trail all over each other's bodies. His hard cock lays in between your thighs, aching and throbbing with need, so you decide to grant him a little relief. You slide your hand into his boxers and slowly stroke his cock. His breath hitches slightly, bringing amusement to your face as your lips brush against his.

"So hard for me already, poor thing." You nuzzle into his face a little, sliding your nose against his as you lick into his mouth, silently asking for his tongue once again. He gives as much as he can, panting into your kiss.

After just a few minutes of lazily jerking him off, you slide his pants lower on his thighs, bracing his cock right in between your slit and slowly start to rock your hips back and forth. The kiss becomes lazy, just tongues caressing each other while moans echo throughout the room, every vein from his cock brushing up against your clit as the two of you rock together. The heat and slick making both of you quiver.

You release him on the brink of going too far, choosing to then reach over for the singular packet, the shiny foil catching in the light.

"Can you manage to put this on, or do I need to do it?" you jest.

"I got it." He sits himself on the edge of the bed, plucking the condom from your grasp. You hear the sound of the package tearing, and soon after his bottoms are gone too, both of you nude together.

"So, how you wanna do this?" he asks while rolling on the latex.

"Wanna be in your lap."

"Are you sure your legs can handle that?" he chuckles, caressing your thigh.

"My legs aren't made of jello," you retort, getting up on your knees while he scoots backward.

"Alright, but no complaining if you get tired."

You crawl over toward him, and he reaches out for you, taking hold of your hips as you swing one leg over both of his.

"Hi," you say as you're face to face with him, one arm slung lazily over his shoulder, grazing his back, the other resting against his cheek as your finger strokes his cheek.

"Hey," he chirps back.

You give him a quick kiss, moving your hand from his face to his cock, feeding him through your entrance, and sinking down on him slowly, the two of you groaning into each other's mouths. Your tummy folds in on itself as you reach the base.

You're not sure if you'll ever get used to the intimacy of it all. No matter how many times you go through this, you wonder if the feeling of overwhelming consumption will subside. If one day, it won't feel like Mike is looking right into your soul every time you have sex.

You whimper slightly as you settle, his girth stretching you out deliciously. You cup his face as your lips search for his again. His hand moves to caress you, one hand gliding down your spine and the other grabbing the fatty flesh at the bend of your hip joint. They never stay in place, though,  always on the move, making sure no part of your body is left undesired.

You roll your hips for the most part, bouncing only every so often when you want to feel the stretch of being filled again, mostly wanting to enjoy the feeling of being so close together, so connected. Taking simple pleasures in the feeling of him just being inside you. The hairs that spackle the base of his cock work to add pleasure to your clit. 

He kisses his way down your neck, smiling against your skin as he does it, taking in deep breaths of your scent while his hands continue their caress to your breasts, making sure to show them the attention that he neglected while he was eating you out.

His lips move toward your nipple, kissing it before letting his tongue lull out of his mouth, flicking it back and forth.

"Mmm...Mike." Your cunt clenches around him at his efforts, your fingers curling into the hair that sits at the nape of his neck.

His opposite hand slides to your front, rubbing up and down along the curves of your body til it settles on the other breast, rolling the nipple between his digits. His tongue traces around your areola before sucking the nipple into his mouth.

"Christ, Mike," you whine as he locks eyes with you, the movement of your hips quickening with every suck.

This is the only time you get so whiny, when the two of you are in a position like this, so enraptured with each other, in each other's pleasure. You become so sweet and pliant.

He detaches himself from your nipple and eases you onto your back, grabbing the fat of your thighs and pushing them toward your chest so he can fuck you like you need, like you both need. You're not sure if Mike will ever admit to this, but he needs the intimacy as much as you do.

He's deliberate when he sinks back into you, grinding when he reaches the hilt.

When he pulls out, he develops a slow rhythm, one you can both enjoy with its progression. Despite its calm nature, every thrust of his heavy cock ruts into exactly where you need it, rubbing against the spongey spot inside you that makes your toes curl, that lights a fire in your belly and makes you needy once again.

As the moment continues to build, on the precipice of climax, he speaks to you through the haze of pleasure.

"Still need me to kiss you to cum?" He taunts. He knows the answer.  It's been the same ever since the two of you got together. The intimacy between the two of you gets you off more than anything else. 

You pull him down til he's practically on top of you, his body weight against yours, your tummy folding up so nicely as you lay nose to nose. His scent and his skin on yours grounds you like nothing else. You don't even mind the stretch of your thighs as he holds himself against you.

"Don't act like you don't need this too." You extend your neck in an attempt to push your lips forward on his. "You enjoy intimacy more than your grumpy face lets on." Your eyes are just barely glazed over, the same dopey grin plastered on your face as you reach out to him.

"Shut it," he huffs, pressing his lips into yours for a searing kiss, fucking into you with as much vigor as he can muster. The springs of his mattress squeak wildly as he fucks you through it.

As much as he tries to deflect, he knows it's the truth too. He needs the closeness as well. The intimacy, the skin-to-skin contact, the sweat, the heat, the love

You mewl into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Your orgasm sits just beyond the horizon, your cunt clenching down on him harder and harder with every sloppy smack of his lips against yours. The need and desperation grow as your bodies cling together, never wanting to part, edging closer and closer to ecstasy.

You glide your hand down to your clit, rubbing in tight circles as your orgasm crests, taking over your body and moaning into his mouth loudly as you pull him down even further. You're reduced to nothing but babbles and whimpers as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You feel the same words as before bubble up on your tongue. He's here, his body encapsulating yours as close as humanly possible; he's so warm, so safe. He's here, he's yours, and you love him.

You let the words escape you this time, refusing to let them fizzle out into nothingness.

"I love you, Mike," you whisper in his ear.

It's not more than a few seconds later that he's spilling into the condom, his hips still sloppily thrusting and letting out an unexpectedly loud groan while clinging to you.

The air settles, and Mike is still nestled inside you. Your fingers comb through his hair as he brushes along your side, leaving a kiss on your skin every so often, enjoying the afterglow of sex. 

You're the first to break through the silence.

"Shower now or in the morning?"

"Morning," he groans, somewhat groggy after everything that went down. He pulls out, getting up to remove the condom and tie it off, tossing it in the waste basket under his nightstand, making a mental note to dispose of it properly later.

"I'm gonna go pee, then we'll snuggle up for the night," you tell him as you head toward the bathroom before he has a chance to trap you in bed with sleepy cuddles.

"Don't fall in," he smirks, feeling proud of himself, and you grin at him for being an idiot.

As you go to wash your hands after finishing up, you hear a muffled. "I love you too" through the bathroom door.

[uhohnotthisagain]

Admiring Dean - Headcannon

Dean's turn!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Dean being cute and soft, mentions of post sex, mentions of fighting, vampires, no swearing.

My masterlist

Whilst doing research:

The three of you; Sam, Dean and you, had been researching for hours. 

Because the bunker didn't have any windows, it was difficult to tell the time of day. 

You glanced at the little clock in the corner of your laptop screen, realising it was nearing 2 a.m.

Raising your arms above your head, you let out a yawn before collapsing in your chair. You look over at Dean, taking note of his furrowed brows as he concentrates on what he’s looking at on his laptop. 

You glance around him, noting the food wrappers and empty beer bottles, similar to your area at the table. 

For once, Sam was falling asleep at the desk, having grown too tired to keep researching despite the numerous cups of coffee. “Guys, I’m calling it a night.” He slams his computer shut and stands up, half-heartedly waving goodnight. 

Dean looks towards you, raising his eyebrows at you. “You ready to hit the hay too?”

You smile at him, nodding your head. 

He stands up after shutting his laptop, walking over to your side of the table. He’s wearing your favourite red flannel, sleeves rolled up, jeans and boots. The best combination. 

You look up at him, taking his hand that he had out to offer and follow him to your shared bedroom. As you get ready, you take glances to peak at him, enjoying the view of his torso as he strips out of his flannel and into a t-shirt to sleep in. 

You climb into bed, Dean climbing in on his own side. He reaches over you, hand on your waist,  pressing a quick but passionate kiss to your lips. 

“You know, you can always take a picture, I won’t mind.” He says with a wink. 

A blush creeps up to your cheeks, a small smile presenting itself. 

“Sorry, can’t help myself sometimes. You’re irresistible.” 

“Am I now? Would you like to show me how irresistible I am?” He raises a brow. 

“Oh absolutely.” You reply, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him down back to your lips.

In bed: 

Dean was panting, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He only had the thin motel sheet covering his otherwise naked body. 

You had just gone to the bathroom, having just finished up and walking back out to rejoin him.

His muscular torso was raising up and down with his breathing, his arms above his head, accentuating his biceps. 

He looks over towards you as you crawl back into bed, reaching out for you to lay on his chest. 

You stare up at him, brushing your hands through his hair. It was already messy, having run your fingers through it not 10 minutes ago. 

“I love you.” You whisper. 

He angles himself to be able to get a better look at you. “I love you. So much.” 

He presses a kiss to your lips. Different from before. Before was filled with passion. Need. This one was filled with love. Happiness. Contentment. 

Everything about Dean felt right. He was perfect. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling the sheet up over you, making sure you were covered and not too cold.

The two of you get more comfortable, facing each other, arms wrapped around waists, falling asleep not long after. 

When he’s asleep:

It was most mornings when you woke up before Dean. 

It was your favourite way to start the day. 

You opened your eyes, having woken up to the sun blaring through the window. 

You roll over to find Dean still asleep next to you.

He had one arm under the pillow, most likely holding onto the gun hidden under there. The other was stretched over the bed towards you, unconsciously reaching out for you. 

Your eyes mapped out his face, taking note of the freckles that dotted over his face, eyelashes that you envied lying on his upper cheek. 

His breathing was even, looking ever so peaceful as he slept. 

It had been a while since he had nightmares, stopping when the two of you started dating and sleeping in the same bed. You were glad that there was something you could do that would allow him to have much deserved moment of peace. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Dean mumbled. 

You smile as he peaks one eye open. 

“What time is it?” He asks. 

“7:30.”

“Nope, we’re going back to sleep.” He pulls you to him by your waist, holding you there so you couldn’t escape. 

“Dean, we have to get up. We need to be in Portland in two days. Come on.” 

Dean groans, releasing you from his warm entrapment. 

As you get up to go to the bathroom, you take him in one last time. 

He furrows his brow as a flash goes off, opening his eyes to see your phone pointing at him. 

“Oops, forgot to turn the flash off.” 

He jumps up just as you start running to the bathroom, making it just in time to close the door before he can get you. 

“You’ll pay for that one, Sweetheart!” You hear. 

You giggle as you turn the shower on, smiling at the picture you took of Dean. 

When he saves you:

It was vampires. They were everywhere. 

There were more than you three had expected but you still charged in, slicing the heads off of the ones that charged at you. 

You had easily killed 15 each, but there were still more. 

You were starting to feel the fatigue of fighting furiously for the last half an hour, but you kept powering through. 

The grunts of Sam and Dean fighting could be heard in the background, which you used as fuel to keep going and not worry about them. 

When you thought you had gotten them all, you breathed a sigh of relief. You went searching for Dean and Sam, when another vampire came running at you from behind. 

You barely had time to scream, as the vampire grabbed you from behind, throwing you on the ground. 

You grunted as you hit the floor, rolling to get back up when the vampire climbed on top of you, fangs out ready to pierce your skin. 

She leaned down, her face quickly turning from anger to fear and shock. She fell off of you to the side, a knife sticking out of her back. 

Dean was standing behind her, holding a jar full of dead man’s blood. “Had to put this dead guy to use, hey?” 

You let out a sigh of relief, letting Dean help you up. He wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, you?” You respond with a nod. 

“Yeah.” 

Dean leads you out to the Impala, where Sam is waiting.

He squeezes your hand, opening the passenger door for you. 

“Am I not sitting in the back?” You ask. 

“Nah, Sammy can sit in the back for once. You’re sitting with me.” Dean respond. You look at Sam, silently asking for reassurance. 

He nods in return, giving you a smile before climbing into the backseat. 

You climb in, Dean closing the door and walking around to get into the driver's seat. 

As he drives off, you move closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around you, getting comfortable as you set off for the nearest motel. 

[youremyheaven]

Moon Dominance & Manipulation pt 2

TW: murder, rape, genocide, violence, assault, death etc etc

Here's part 1

In part 1, I spoke about the manipulative nature of Moon dominant people, in this post I will be exploring it further and providing more examples.

I think its interesting that the Moon dominant nakshatras, namely, Rohini, Hasta & Shravana are Manushya gana (Rohini) and Deva gana (Hasta & Shravana). It is very telling because even though these natives say and do terrible things, they enjoy squeaky-clean reputations and people usually perceive them as angels. If they were Rakshasa gana people would see through their bs more quickly.

Ariana Grande- Hasta Moon conjunct Jupiter

Ariana has said and done numerous problematic things over the years, from cheating scandals, blackfishing, donutgate, being extremely rude and arrogant, changing races every few years, to cringe ass over-sexualised lyrics, to being a homewrecker, Ariana is super duper messy YET she enjoys public and media support and is seen as America's sweetheart. Other people have lost their careers for less but Ari gets away with absolutely everything. She publicly admitted that Pete was her rebound guy (she was engaged to him) which is such a shitty thing to do to someone?? Like imagine if the genders were reversed lol

Ariana is a solid example of always seeming like the innocent person even though she's the messy one. Even with her latest album, its pretty obvious who cheated on who but she's been subtle enough with her music to make it seem like her ex cheated on her (she made him sign an NDA upon divorce which in itself is SOOO sketchy like what is she afraid of him revealing????) to imply things like that when you've put the other person in a position where they literally cannot speak for themselves is peak Moon dominant manipulation. She then posted a half assed story on IG asking fans to stop attacking "people in her life",,, its so apparent that she incited the whole thing in a super calculated manner and once she got what she wanted, she tries to pretend to be the good guy whose fans did all the terrible stuff🙄

Selena Gomez, Pushya Stellium, Mercury in Ashlesha atmakaraka (they both lie in Cancer which is Moon ruled)

I wouldn't have included rashi rulership but Selena is an exception. She's the queen of playing the victim and is second only to Meghan Markle. Selena sets her fans on different hate trains every other week. She's very wary of showing support to social causes. She worked with Woody Allen. She treated her best friend & kidney donor like shit, was a terrible gf to Justin Bieber, treated Demi like shit during a really tough period of Demi's life, can't sing at all yet, produced a whole TV show (13RW) that is extremely triggering for people with mental health issues and was advised by MANY to change things but she just didn't??? honestly, if you watch her documentary you can see how she's the most self-absorbed narcissistic person, every single thing has to be about her all the time.

Despite all this, Selena is almost universally loved.

Amy Dunne from Gone Girl is THE best example of a Moon-dominant person and the extent to which they'll go to ruin your life. Amy Dunne was played by Rosamund Pike who has Shravana Sun conjunct Mars

Amy had such a squeaky clean image that it was impossible to convince anybody that she was the sociopath who tried to fake her own death.

Leonardo DiCaprio- Hasta Moon

Leo is a creepy middle aged man who only dates women under 25, lives for the yacht life and spends his free time partying and doing drugs, all of which is fine but these are things that other Hollywood men come under fire for ALL the time, yet Leo is pretty much everyone's favourite, he's the environmentalist humanitarian even tho he's private jetting to his private island to party with models, even tho he's received flak in the last couple of years for dating women much younger than him, its still more of a running gag than anything serious. He hasn't suffered because of it in any way. His reputation is still intact.

John Lennon- Hasta Sun, Shravana Moon

John was a wife beating, child beating, abusive to multiple women, made fun of people with disabilities, pretended to be an anti establishment hippie even though he accepted an MBE from the Queen of England (he returned it years later in protest) and yet he is remembered as a counterculture icon and one of the most talented musicians ever. He was a violent abusive man who preached peace. Although he was a philanderer himself, he was obsessively jealous and possessive towards the women he became involved with. Lennon was an extremely wealthy man who lived a rich lifestyle, but he said that we should "imagine" a world with no possessions or greed. In short, he was a hypocrite. Yet he is still remembered fondly unlike sooo many other figures in history.

Amal Clooney, Shravana Sun conjunct Venus

speaking of hypocrisy, here's Mrs Clooney, the human rights lawyer who wears $34,000 worth of clothes while championing the poor. She attends gala and balls wearing clothes worth thousands of dollars to "raise money for charity" whilst being married to a man who has a net worth of $500 million. Like I'm sure he could just write a cheque?? The Clooneys throw a lot of charity balls/dinners/parties etc as well and its so funny to me because its obvious they're doing it to keep a certain image before the media, whilst also getting all glammed up and having fun, without doing anything tangible to actually help anybody. imagine your job is to represent refugees, unfairly imprisoned heads of state and advise the UN and you also split time between 5 different mansions all over USA and Europe in private jets lol yet Amal enjoys a good reputation for being a girlboss

Gwyneth Paltrow- Rohini Moon

Lady Goop is a nepo baby and has a net worth of $200 million yet she feels the need to make money off of people by selling bullshit wellness products like $55 sex oils, $400 meditation mats, mouth tape, vibrators, theraguns, vitamins, health supplements and god knows what else?? She's one of the many westerners who sell commercial spiritual nonsense to the masses but coming from someone as rich as she is?? like maa'm?? she promotes so much alternate medicine bullshit on her podcast as well, there is obviously real actually helpful alternate herbal treatments/medicine etc etc BUT that's not her focus she talks about getting rectal ozone therapy (not kidding) and shoving garlic in her ears to clear her chakras and spreads misinformation. there are plenty of people in america who can't access health care, imagine how you're endangering them by suggesting that rose quartz and mouth tapes and candles will cure you. She promotes a eating disordered diet as a "healthy one". all in all, she's sketchy but people just make fun of her and don't see her as someone manipulating innocent people into buying super expensive "alternate medicine" from Goop.

Helena Blavatsky- Hasta Moon & Venus

Helena is the co-founder of the Theosophical Society and was an international leader figure in the Theosophical community. She basically helped promote eastern spirituality and philosophy in the West except that she's lied about pretty much her whole life, so its hard to confirm literally anything about her. She died in 1891 so at the time when she was alive there was no way for others to prove whether or not she was lying, they just had to take her word for it. She lied about training with sages in Tibet and lied about her mystical experiences, plagiarised ancient eastern texts to write about her "spiritual discoveries" etc There's plenty of proof that she was nothing but a charlatan yet I find it interesting how she still has a devoted following and even in her lifetime enjoyed a good reputation as a mystic medium lmao

Ranbir Kapoor, Hasta Sun & Mercury, Shravana Moon & Rohini Rising

Ranbir gets a lot of hate as of late but for the most part he has enjoyed a really good reputation despite being a shitty person.

Jeane Dixon- Rohini rising

She was a psychic and astrologer who predicted the JFK assassination.

John Allen Paulos, a mathematician at Temple University, explored the tendency of Dixon and her fans to promote her few correct predictions while ignoring the larger number of incorrect predictions, naming this habit "the Jeane Dixon effect."

Many of Dixon's predictions proved erroneous, such as her claims that a dispute over the islands of Quemoy and Matsu would trigger the start of World War III in 1958, that American labor leader Walter Reuther would run for president of the United States in the 1964 presidential election, that the second child of Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau and his young wife Margaret would be a girl (it was a boy), and that the Soviets would be the first to put men on the Moon. (excerpt from her wiki)

basically she had no real powers but managed to convince others she did, her clients included Ronald and Nancy Reagan lol

Jordan Peterson, Hasta Moon , Rohini Mercury & Shravana Ketu

He is a good example of the worst type of Moon dominant man. He has said among other things:

That class conflict is a natural and eternal struggle for existence that no political or economic revolution could ameliorate. The individual must develop an aggressive, alpha-male attitude in order to climb the social ladder. Peterson is kind of obsessed with power (all Moon dominants are lol) acc to him only a strong will, exercising itself against a contingent and meaningless world — and against the weak — can one ever hope to flourish.

Jordan Peterson endorses the idea that some men are purposely denied sex by women and that conventionally attractive men are 'taking all the sex' from other 'deserving' men. As a result, he suggests that by assigning women to men and pressuring them to 'settle' and have sex with isolated men, they wouldn't be so "angry at God" and commit acts of mass violence and murder. This, as well as criticizing birth control and saying that women would be happier if they just "allow themselves to be transformed by nature into mothers," is dangerous rhetoric that reinforces patriarchal violence against women.

He's a manipulative asshole who propagates his sexist harmful chauvinistic views as pseudoscience or psychology ew

Freud- Rohini Moon, Hasta Mars

i couldn't make a post about Moon dominance and manipulation without mentioning the godfather of promoting his fucked up worldviews as science, Mr Sigmund Freud aka the most successful Moon manipulator who has caused permanent lasting damage to society

Sigmund believed that homosexuality in men is neurotic but not particularly problematic. Lesbianism, however, he considered a gateway to mental illness.

This (according to Sigmund) is because only men have moral sense. We all evolve from apes, so no human is born with it. But boys acquire morality through the castration complex—the fear that their fathers will emasculate them for their misbehavior.

Having nothing obvious to neuter, girls and women are essentially amoral, lying and conniving to get what they want. Girls must be guided through civilized life by a father, and a woman by a husband. And because they choose not to marry, lesbians remain loose cannons, fundamentally untrustworthy and unstable.

His daughter Anna was his closest intellectual and emotional companion. Yet she was a lesbian.

Freud taught that lesbianism is always the fault of the father and is curable by psychoanalysis.

Freud cautioned followers that analysis is an erotic relationship. Analyst and patient together must scrutinize the amorous feelings that flow between them. This being the case, by rules he asked his followers to honor, Freud could not attempt to cure his own daughter’s lesbianism.

 he also overgeneralized a lot of his “findings” such as the oedipus complex to apply to all people, which was harmful in the early stages of the formation of psychology. today most of his theories are disproven and widely considered problematic. Freud was obsessed with sex and made everything about sex (Moon men are sex addicts and every Moon man I've mentioned so far has a weird relationship with women)

he is credited with being the first psychologist to actually listen to women's problems but when he did listen to them, and many of them told them of their SA experiences, he changed the narrative to "women want to screw their daddies so they have these dreams/fantasies of sexual encounters in childhood" (the Electra/Oedipus Complex) to sell his books. He LIED basically, he manipulated the truth into something disgusting.

Freud is credited with making psychology a legitimate field and for it gaining attention worldwide but he literally manipulated, lie, overgeneralised and in general spewed a lot of toxic nonsense in order to get attention, like Gwyneth with Goop or Helena with Theosophy.

Sobhita Dhulipala- Rohini stellium

Sobhita like most others bought a brand new face for herself yet masquerades under the "im not like other girls, i read" nonsense, she talks about acting, art and self love like she's some committed thespian when girlie cannot act to save her life. she says she does not work out just cleans her house and does chores to stay fit :) bc she's not like other shallow actresses, she does her own chores :) compared to most other people on this list she's harmless but I find her super pick me and pretentious

Moon dominant people are very good at picking up on lies, and understanding human behaviour because they're liars themselves lol, it takes one to know one.

Azealia Banks- Rohini Sun

she's truly unhinged af and a very vile person but some of the people she's called out are also terrible people and tbh her insults are so poetic lmfao

dont get me wrong i think she's a terrible person but there is some truth to some of the things she says which is what i meant by how Moon dominant people understand human behaviour. also Moon dominant people are HATERS dont expect them to say anything nice about anyone lol

I had a friend who would deliberately compliment every other girl we were friends with (Rita is sooo pretty, Lily is so stunning etc etc) but would never say ANYTHING nice about me EVER and when others complimented me she'd act like she didn't hear it or something lmao (it was wild) and one day I straight up asked how come you never say anything nice to me and she said "oh I didn't know you needed compliments from me, I thought you got enough validation from others, I didn't know you were desperate for more" 😭😭😭😭LIKE GIRL WHATTT, honestly making these posts and exposing the dark nasty side of Moon dominant people is helping me heal from all the toxic abuse I endured at the hands of this shitty girl and some others ughhhh that's the reason why these posts have more personal anecdotes than any other post i've made lol

Oprah Winfrey, Shravana Sun & Venus

Her show was pure exploitation of peoples problems and also gave a platform to the equally exploitative Dr. Oz, the king of fake science, and Dr, Phil, the king of fake psychology.

It's a well known fact that she's friends with Harvey Weinstein & Jeffery Epstein despite being a "supporter" of the Me Too movement. Not to mention, she gave a platform to the phony Michael Jackson accusers from Leaving Neverland (do the research, they're liars) while turning a blind eye to the actual sexual predators of Hollywood, like Weinstein.

Her style of journalism seems to favour the shock value of a breaking news scandal rather than actually seeking the truth.

Several celebrities have come forward to talk about how poorly they were treated on the show. Oprah loves to relish in the misery of other ppl and ALWAYS makes others deeply uncomfortable with the straightup rude and hurtful questions she asks them.

Ellen DeGeneres, Shravana Sun & Venus

the fact that two of the most sociopathic TV hosts to ever grace television has identical placements is so telling. Ellen has been exposed in the last couple of years for being a terrible person to work with and treating her guests like shit. What I find even more interesting is the fact that the person who sort of initially exposed Ellen for being a manipulative liar is Dakota Johnson who has Hasta Sun & Mars, when I tell you that Moon dominant people deeply understand human behaviour and the psychology behind people acting the way they do, this is what I mean, it takes a Moon dominant to understand the manipulation of another one.

Kristen Bell, Hasta Moon

she probably has one of the most toxic marriages ever and yet speaks of it so glowingly and always talks about "how much work" it is to stay married like girl💀💀maybe exit the marriage then?? she has such a sweetheart image but she has admitted that she gives her children non-alcoholic beer, locks them in their room at night, makes them shower with her to "save water", talks to them about their father's addiction and their sex life??

"We make funny videos but we also go to couple's therapy because we disagree on 99.9 percent of issues," she said at the time. "There are days when I'm completely sick of him, and there are days when he is completely sick of me. But we've chosen to love one another and to be a team. We've learned how to communicate and argue in a really healthy, respectful way."- Kristen said this about her marriage like girlie nothing about it sounds healthy, if its this much work then it probably isn't love lol

Kate Winslet, Hasta Sun, Moon & Rising

Winslet has worked with predators like Woody Allen, Harvey Weinstein & Roman Polanski and after Me Too, she shifted her narrative as public opinion regarding these men, whose crimes and accusations have been well documented for decades, has thoroughly shifted to the point where associating with them is no longer good for her and would like to join the right side of history. She & Leo have partied on Jeffrey Epstein's private island as well and she's one the many signatories who signed a petition to free Roman Polanski ewww

This is one example of how image conscious Moon dominant people are, she has no moral compass and had no issue working with all these predators for decades but once it became apparent that she wouldn't benefit from associating with them anymore she's suddenly all "omg terrible men i wish id known better" lol what a liar

She also played a sociopathic Nazi in the movie The Reader

Josephine Baker, Rohini Sun

Josephine Baker was a dancer known for her banana skirt dancing. Later in life, she adopted 12 children from different ethnicities and spent the rest of her life raising them. She is remembered as an icon and for her activism but her children have come out to describe how abusive she was to them.

During her participation in the civil rights movement, Baker began to adopt children, forming a family which she often referred to as "The Rainbow Tribe". Baker wanted to prove that "children of different ethnicities and religions could still be brothers." She often took the children with her cross-country, and when they were at Château des Milandes, she arranged tours so visitors could walk the grounds and see how natural and happy the children were in "The Rainbow Tribe". Her estate featured hotels, a farm, rides, and the children singing and dancing for the audience. She charged an admission fee to visitors who entered and partook in the activities, which included watching the children play.

She created dramatic backstories for them, picking them with clear intent in mind: at one point, she wanted and planned to adopt a Jewish baby, but she settled for a French one. She also raised them in different religions in order to further her model for the world, taking two children from Algeria and raising one child as a Muslim and raising the other child as a Catholic. One member of the Tribe, Jean-Claude Baker, said: "She wanted a doll".

Baker forced Jarry to leave the château and live with his adoptive father, Jo Bouillon, in Argentina, at the age of 15, after discovering that he was gay. Moïse died of cancer in 1999, and Noël was diagnosed with schizophrenia and is in a psychiatric hospital as of 2009. Jean-Claude Baker, the unofficial addition to the Rainbow Tribe, committed suicide in 2015, aged 71.

Angelina Jolie, Rohini Sun

Jolie was clearly inspired by Josephine Baker. she adopted children from different ethnicities and even bought a Chateau in France to raise them in (just like Baker did). For many years Jolie received a lot of flak for her unconventional parenting, like frequently travelling, homeschooling all her kids and not giving them a bedtime or any kind of stable daily routine. I can't comment on it too much because there's not that much about their personal life on the internet but what I do find very interesting is how Jolie has always used the paparazzi to push a certain image and stay relevant. We know that paps only come when you call them, even Beyonce never gets papped, so its very much possible to live a lowkey life. Angelina gets papped absolutely all the time for the last 20yrs, it was especially bizarre because it was obvious that she was trying to shed the "homewrecker image" by always being photographed with her kids doing mom things and its a bit problematic to think that she's using her children as pap fodder to push an agenda. Again, I think Brad is an abusive person but he often spoke back in the day about his desire to keep the children out of the public eye but Angie had to shed her weird punk goth who kissed her brother and was addicted to bad men and drugs image so she tried to present herself as the kind humanitarian and loving mother, I'm not saying that she isn't those things, except that girlie will make sure the paps are around to photograph her doing these things like she called the paps to her daughter's first day of college bro likeeee

Here's a very old article about how smart she is at crafting her image. Again this is not in and of itself a bad thing but it's kind of bizarre to realise how image conscious people can be and how something that seems so "real" and "natural" is actually a well calculated move on their part.

Angelina also played the sociopath Lisa Rowe in the movie Girl, Interrupted. people often associate this character with her Revati Moon but i assure you this is all on her Rohini Sun

Russell Peters - Hasta Sun

Russell is really good at studying people, accents, mannerisms etc which is what makes him a really good comedian but he's also fckn rude and disgusting from time to time.

Honestly Moon dominant men always spew the most vile shit, they talk about people especially women in THE most disgusting way. actual psychopaths ew especially the cocky self assured way in which they say all this bullshit???

Errol Morris- Shravana Sun

he is a documentary filmmaker whose work focuses on the epistemology of the subject, he's obsessed with human nature and trying to understand why people do what they do, all of his docus focus on vvv unusual people, death row prisoners, defence secretary instrumental in the vietnam war, insurance frauds, a man who designs death machines, pet cemeteries etc Morris focuses on people who are questionable to say the least, he tries to humanize people perceived as evil or bad (Moon dominant af lol bc who else would be interested in the motives of bad ppl??)

This preoccupation with human nature is deeply tied to the nature of Lunar people. They have a need to understand "motivations" and what drives people to do what they do. There is an innate tendency to pathologize or pick apart behaviour. This isn't inherently a bad thing but it is something I have noticed among Lunar people.

James Randi- Rohini rising

He was a magician and skeptic who spent his life exposing other people and their paranormal and pseudoscientific claims.

Moon dominant people are skeptical of everything and the least likely to believe in anything, they're always looking for the truth because they deeply understand human ugliness and believe everybody else is like that (they see themselves reflected in others, which is to say that if they're capable of it, then so must others).

Roman Polanski- Hasta Rising

pedophile and child rapist Polanski has directed movies like Rosemary's Baby, Chinatown, The Palace, The Pianist etc,, all of his movies have heavy elements of deceit, lies, manipulation etc all of his characters are looking for the truth.

Claire had mentioned in her video about wealth as to how Rohini (Venus is domiciled in Taurus) (Moon exalts in Rohini) creates contentment and this leads to stagnation because dissatisfaction is what creates growth. If someone is content where they are they decay. I think this can be broadly applied to all 3 Moon naks because they have no other motives, nothing to dry them so they start rotting on the inside and doing terrible, horrible, evil things. Venus and Moon embodies the ugliness of humanity.

Josef Mengele- Hasta Moon

He was a Nazi doctor who conducted abhorrent and deadly medical experiments on the prisoners at Auschwitz and administered the gas to gas chambers. He was nicknamed "Angel of Death"

Lenin- Shravana Moon

if you're familiar with the history of the soviet union you will know that Lenin wasnt exactly a sweetheart

Heinrich Himmler-Hasta Sun, Shravana Rising and Ketu in Rohini

he was a prominent Nazi leader who is "credited" with "designing the Holocaust"

Edward Teller- Rohini Moon

This is the guy who betrayed Oppenheimer and is called "the father of the hydrogen bomb". he later expressed guilt over his involvement in the dropping of atom bombs over hiroshima and nagasaki

Henry Kissinger - Rohini Sun & mercury

he was a warmongering asshole who i hope is rotting in hell. he's one of the worst human beings to have ever existed due to the sheer scale and capacity of crimes he enabled and the millions of people who died as a result. i have extensively talked about how Moon dominant people lack empathy, they literally do not care about others, they are selfish to the point where its actually disgusting and pathetic and this guy is one of the worst examples

During the 1968 presidential election he was in the Johnson administration but wanted to get in good with Nixon. So he leaked information about peace talks with North Vietnam to Nixon. They then went on to use this information to sabotage the peace talks and in turn the election.

He committed treason to extend the Vietnam War, ultimately by seven years. That alone makes him a rare breed of terrible. But it’s also damning because it shows how he ultimately believe in anything other than that he deserves to be close to power. He was willing to play games with millions of human lives over a job. And he would have been in the Humphrey administration if Nixon lost, so it was just a job he wanted more. He didn’t care about fighting communism, the rule of law, patriotism, anything. His death toll alone puts him on a short list of the worst people to ever live, but most of the people on there did what they did for an ideology.

He’s also been described as “the Forrest Gump of war crimes.” He just shows up for no good reason in the history of so many atrocities. Often he ordered them, but he also installed dictators who would carry out genocides. There’s worse people in history, but none who have been involved in so many separate crimes.

just read anything about this vile shitty man and you will understand the kind of cruelty and apathy Moon dominant people are capable of.

moon dominant people are "good" with political & military strategy because they dont care about anybody's well being except their own lol

one time i spoke to a Moon dominant guy and he said that there's no such thing as altruism or selflessness and that everybody behaves in their self interest, i found that very cynical and disturbing and he said even people who do charity or appear to be kind are only doing it because they want others to see them that way and that really says more about the nature of Moon dominant people than anything else. he also said he loved attention of any kind and would do anything to trigger people just so they'd react and give him attention lol basically he admitted to having sociopathic tendencies. He was Rohini Moon. imagine being so morally bankrupt and soulless that you cant believe there's goodness in this world or that people are good with no agenda lol I feel bad for people who have to live life being that bitter, imagine rotting on the inside like that

Herman Kahn- Hasta Moon

He was a military strategist and developed the nuclear strategy of USA during the cold war. which is to say his entire job revolved around manipulation. He is quoted as saying:

"At the minimum, an adequate deterrent for the United States must provide an objective basis for a Soviet calculation that would persuade them that, no matter how skillful or ingenious they were, an attack on the United States would lead to a very high risk if not certainty of large-scale destruction to Soviet civil society and military forces." 💀💀💀(avg moon dominant man be like)

In Kahn’s book, the Doomsday Machine is an example of the sort of deterrent that appeals to the military mind but that is dangerously destabilizing. Since nations are not suicidal, its only use is to threaten.

ok thats it for now besties whewww

i am not claiming that all moon dominant people are terrible people so if you have these placements dont take it to heart. i do however think that the dark side of the moon dominant native is truly terrifying. all i wanted to do was shed light on that.

[versadies]

EPILOGUE || FOREVERMORE

SYNOPSIS (of chapter). in which it's been three months since your trip to mondstadt.

SYNOPSIS (of series). breaking up with your first love was heartbreaking, but not as heartbreaking as getting invited to his wedding after years of not seeing him. that is, until things seem to be easier when you encounter a certain guest, who could end up becoming more than just a blooming friend to you (or not).

CHARACTERS. diluc ragnvindr, kamisato ayato, and thoma (w/ gn!reader)

CONTENT. fluff/slight-angst, grammar errors (?), cheesy scenes, second-hand embarrassment (?), possible errors in general.

WORD COUNT. 3.5k words

LINKS. EVERMORE MASTERLIST \ MAIN MASTERLIST \ EVERMORE SURVEY

POST-SCRIPT. the end is finally here!! hopefully the ending is satisfying and fulfilling, i've done all i can to make sure it brings the entire series together and give reader the happiness they deserve. if you wish to know fun facts about the series, stay until the end!!

PREVIOUS

3 MONTHS LATER AFTER THE WEDDING.

DECEMBER 11, 2022

It’s been a while since you’ve last visited Mondstadt. 

You find yourself sitting on a bar stool with your drink in hand, wearing a formal outfit suited for an occasion that can happen to someone for once-in-a-lifetime: a wedding. 

True to both you and Diluc’s words, you kept in touch with one another as you two remained friends after your departure from Mondstadt. Though you’re both busy from your work schedules, the two of you make the most of your conversations through sending pictures of food, places, and even your friends – your particular favorite being a picture of his pet bird, Vanessa – in your messages. 

It’s safe to say things are well, and you’re more than happy with the couple’s wedding despite your heartbreak before. 

You mindlessly look around the reception venue with a smile on your face, paying no mind to the conversations between loud guests who are either talking about 1) the newly wedded couple, or 2) the recent buzz of the continent regarding a certain corrupted CEO.

Two months after the wedding of Ayato and Chisato, Shinsuke was suddenly arrested thanks to the newly-wedded couple, who exposed him with numerous charges that shocked the entire public and media.

“Did you hear? Hiiragi Shinsuke has been arrested for his crimes!”

“I know! It’s shocking to hear that it took him this long to be behind bars, and to think that it’s all thanks to his daughter and her husband...” 

“Didn’t they work with that young detective that’s been the buzz of Inazuma’s police force? What’s that detective’s name again?”

“I believe it’s Shikanoin. Apparently he’s been investigating Hiiragi for a long time now!” 

You muted out people’s chattering about Shinsuke, taking a sip of your drink. You’re honestly just glad that he’s finally behind bars now, and you won’t have to worry about him for a long, long tim–

“( Name )! How are you?” You flinch when you hear a particular voice that you haven’t heard for a few months now. When you turn around, you spot Venti coming towards you happily with a skip of his steps.

“Venti!” You greeted him happily, putting your glass down before standing up to come towards him, spreading your arms for a friendly hug. “I’ve been well, thank you. How about you? It’s been a while!” 

Venti giggles, wrapping his arms around you for a warm friendly hug. “I’m doing well, especially with free drinks and free food around!” He cheers. His flushed cheeks and drowsy look is enough for you to know that he’s as drunk as can be. Classic Venti…

“I can tell.” You respond with a laugh, before helping him sit on one of the bar stools that’s next to yours on the left. “You should take a break from all that drinking, your hangover will be the death of you tomorrow.” 

“You’re right.. I should be ready for later..!” Venti hiccups. “How’s Zhongli, by the way? Did he go with you as your plus one again?” 

You shake your head in response. “He’s okay, but no, he’s not with me for this trip.” You replied. “I didn’t bring anyone with me since it wasn’t mentioned in the wedding card.”

“Well then, I guess you’re stuck with me!” He giggles, before ordering the bartender another glass once again, much to both your dismay and the bartender’s. 

As Venti indulges himself with the free drinks while sharing interesting things about Mondstadt, you couldn’t help but glance at the direction of where Diluc and Jean are, who are both chatting quietly to one another as they eat their meals at their table.

It didn’t take long before Diluc felt your stare, and noticed your presence. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him with a wave, to which he responds with an acknowledged nod, slightly smiling towards you before his attention is taken by another guest who came to congratulate the newly-wedded couple.

Your attention is eventually taken as well by another person, who suddenly seated himself right next to you on your right. 

“Thoma!” You gasp in surprise, not expecting to see the blonde-haired man.

Thoma flashes you a smile as he chuckles. “Hello to you too as well, ( Name ). Guess you didn’t expect me to be here, huh?” 

“Of course not, you gave me a heart attack! I didn’t know you were invited!” You exclaim with a smile. You couldn’t help but take note of how neat he looks, wearing a tuxedo with his hair fixed instead of his usual messy hairdo that you’ve grown used to. 

“I didn’t think I’d be invited either until Ayato persuaded me to come to the wedding on his behalf. I’m sure you know how busy Inazuma has been since the… arrest.” He explains, scratching the back of his head with a cheeky grin. 

You nod in understanding, your smile becoming a little strained at the mention of the arrest of Shinsuke. “I’m very aware. Almost everyone’s talking about it here, surprisingly.” 

The blonde man takes note of your strained smile, and he decides to quickly change topics in a jiffy. “How’s your trip here? Did you bring anyone with you?” He asks curiously. 

You lean on the bar counter, though your drink (as well as Venti, who’s still busy with his drinks) is left forgotten. “My trip’s been amazing. I didn’t bring anyone with me though. How about you?” 

Thoma shrugs. “I didn’t bring anyone either. Though if I could, I would’ve brought Taroumaru.” 

“Aw, I miss Taroumaru!” You cooed. You immediately thought about Inazuma once again, becoming more homesick than you thought you’d be. “How’s the little guy? I heard he’s been the talk of the town. He’s getting really famous on the Internet, isn’t he?” 

Thoma chuckles in response, his cheeks turning slightly red. “Yeah.. I honestly didn’t think he’d get famous. There was an idol who came to visit the café and took a picture of him, which was how he got everyone’s love.” 

You nodded slowly, still smiling. “So I suppose business is booming then? I’m sure a lot of people must be wanting to meet Taroumaru.” 

“Oh if only you see how busy it’s been. If it weren’t for the staff my mom and I hired, I wouldn’t be able to come to the wedding in the first place!” He comments.

As you continue to listen to Thoma talking about people in Inazuma, you couldn’t help but miss Inazuma even more. You honestly couldn’t wait to come back. 

“How about you? How’s Liyue been lately after your trip?” Your friend suddenly asks, causing you to wake up from your thoughts. 

You cleared your throat. “Oh, same as always. Though,” You straighten your posture, clearing your throat, “I’ve thought about coming back to Inazuma after what happened.” 

Thoma was taken back by surprise from your words, his eyes brightened. “R-Really?” 

You hummed, your smile growing from his excitement. “Really.” 

The man before you didn’t know what to say, stunned from such good news. “This..." He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, obviously ecstatic from the news as his eyes brightens instantly. "This is amazing news! You have to let me know when your flight is then. I can pick you up from the airport and we can go wherever you want and–”

“Woah, woah, slow down!” You couldn’t help but laugh as well, finding his excitement infectious and amusing. “I haven’t even booked anything yet, let alone ask for a transfer in my job.”  

“O-Oh!” His cheeks turn red instantly in embarrassment. “R-Right.. My bad, I-I was getting too excited.” He stammers, clearing his throat as he fixes his suit tie. “When do you think you’ll come back?” 

You shrug in response. “I’m thinking of.. Maybe after New Year’s Day. It’ll take a while since well.. It’s hard to move to another country, you know?”

He nodded quickly. “Ah yes, of course. I totally understand! You should take your time.” He says in agreement. “Just… Let me know when you’re coming back. I missed you, you know?” 

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warming up from his words. Thoma was never the type to confess something so affectionate, but perhaps the drinks are getting the best of both of you…

The blonde man was quick to realize what he said though, as he instantly stiffens and starts stumbling on his words. “I-I mean, I-I’m not the only one who misses you– since everyone misses you, i-including me..!” 

“Y-Yeah, I get it. E-Especially since it’s been a long time since I’ve left Inazuma.” You stumbled as well, your cheeks warming even more from the awkward situation that the both of you brought yourself into. “I-If anything, I missed you guys too..!” 

Yeah, the drinks are definitely getting the best of both of you. 

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh once again from the embarrassment, causing the tense and awkward atmosphere to dissipate. 

“Well that was awkward.” He commented, smiling from ear-to-ear.

“No doubt.” You responded, still laughing as you held your stomach. 

As the both of you try to catch your breaths after laughing, Thoma decides to get himself a drink as well as another one for you. “Let’s drink to celebrate your upcoming return then. On me, of course.” 

You snorted. “Thoma, the drinks are free. We’re in a wedding, remember?” 

He blushes once again. “A-Ah.. Right.” 

–

As you walk out of the elevator, you head towards your hotel room with Thoma in tow. 

Long after the wedding finally ended, you decided to take your leave and hit the bed to sleep for the night, wanting nothing more than to lie down on the comfortable sheets of the bed as you snore away. 

To your surprise, Thoma decides to make sure you come back to your room in one piece and escort you back to your room given that the both of you are a little intoxicated.

“You know, you don’t have to come with me. I can go back to the room on my own.” You said reassuringly, noticing how close your hotel room is getting.

“We’re here anyway, so you’re stuck with me now.” He comments, insisting even more as he walks by your side. “Besides, I’m actually staying in the same hotel as you. Though, I’m three floors above.” 

You relax instantly from his words, no longer finding the energy to say otherwise. “Oh, that’s good then.” You stumble around and try to find your keycard, pulling it out from your pocket as the two of you arrive to your room.

“Thanks again, Thoma. I’m glad you had kept me company at the wedding– and for helping me taking care of Venti.” You chuckled, letting your door scan your keycard. 

He smiles, nodding in acknowledgement. “Of course. It’s the least I can do since you’ve given me a good time at the wedding.” 

You smiled in response, and turned around to enter your room that's now opened, but before you could enter, he stopped you for a moment. 

“Wait.” 

“Hm?” You turn to look at him in confusion and in curiosity. “Is something wrong?” 

He shakes his head. “N-No, of course not. It’s just…”

The two of you fell awkwardly silent. 

“...I won’t be here tomorrow, so you won’t see me until you return to Inazuma.” He confesses. “So… If you ever decide on whether you’d visit, move in, or whatever, I’m one call away. Just let me know when you come and visit.” So I can be the first to greet you.

You smiled cheekily. “So you really did miss me, huh?”

He blushes once again. “Can you blame me..?” There’s no one I love but you. 

You then pat his shoulder. “...I’ll call you as soon as I get the date. Just promise me you’ll be by the airport with some cardboard that has my name.” You teased. 

He nodded eagerly. “I’ll make sure it’ll have ‘Welcome back from the Asylum’ on it.” He says, teasing you back. 

“Oh I’d like to see you try!” You laugh, lightly slapping his shoulder as he grins.

“...See you next time, ( Name ).” 

“See you next time, Thoma.” 

You took a few steps to your room and finally closed the door, the last face you saw was Thoma’s flushed face. 

As soon as he’s alone in the quiet hallways of the hotel floor, he lets out a sigh. 

This time.. This time I’ll shoot my shot.

.

.

.

“What are you thinking about, Thoma?” 

The blonde-haired man blinks a few times as he finds himself back in the familiar surroundings of Komore Cafe. 

“Ah, sorry.. I-I was just thinking about something.” Thoma says with a cheeky grin, looking at your direction as you sit by the stools that’s by the counter. “How long have you been watching me?” He asks. 

You smiled cheekily. “Long enough for me to be reminded of how handsome you look.” You responded teasingly with a chuckle.

“Oh really? Am I really that dashing?” He asks, jokingly posing like a model as it causes you to laugh. 

“Very much, but not as much as my guy Taroumaru here.” You pet the Shiba Inu, who makes a “woof!” noise as he happily encourages your affection. 

Thoma dramatically puts a hand on his chest. “You wound me. I’d never thought my own spouse would choose Taroumaru over me! Where is the loyalty?” 

The two of you broke into laughter, amused by each other’s antics.

It’s been almost two years since the time when you two visited Diluc and Jean’s wedding. True to your word, you return to Inazuma a few months after your trip to Mondstadt, officially residing in your homeland instead of Liyue. Thoma has been with you since you returned, and he has been nothing but helpful to you as the two of you make up for the lost time.

It took a while before you eventually started gaining feelings for him, which then eventually led to the two of you in a committed and happy relationship for the past three months. It’s safe to say that you’ve never been happier than ever, and you’re grateful for someone like Thoma to be by your side for so long. 

And he’s grateful that his dream finally came true, happy that he has the honor of being yours, and you being his. He couldn’t imagine anything better than what he has now. 

Unfortunately, the sweet moment between you both ended abruptly when your watch started ringing, reminding you of the time. 

“Ah shoot, I gotta go. Miko’s going to kill me if I end up late.” You said, grabbing your bag and drink before kissing Thoma’s cheek and pet Taroumaru one last time. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.” 

“Anything for you. Stay safe!” Your boyfriend tells you, watching as you run out of the cafe like the wind, leaving him alone with Taroumaru.

As soon as you’re gone, he lets out a dreamy sigh. 

“Come, Taroumaru, it’s time to work.” He spoke to the Shiba Inu, petting his head before heading towards the sign of his café to flip it. 

There’s nothing more to life than spending the rest of his days with you, and he’s more than content with the life he has with you.

It’s safe to say that the same goes with you. 

PREVIOUS.

DAN'S NOTE.

Thank you guys so much for reading Evermore! I honestly have never thought I’d finished this from the very start, and yet here I am, and it’s all thanks to all of you who have spread your love and opinions on this series.

It was truly an honor to write this piece. It really makes me happy to see a lot of you guys commenting on each chapter, sending asks about how much you love Evermore and spit on Ayato as well as Shinsuke, and overall just you guys being interested in something I put my heart and soul to! 

As someone who never once experienced having a lover nor went through a breakup, it’s quite tough for me to write about it in this series since I want the experiences to feel somewhat real, or better yet, not too cliche than it already is. 

Of course, I also want this series to be somewhat a lesson to my dear readers, to those who need to let it all out, to those whose hearts are broken, to those who just need an escape from reality once in a while, and overall to everyone. I hope that whatever you guys are going through, you will get through it! If you can go through a breakup and deal with Shinsuke’s existence in this fic, then you can surely go through anything!

Since I’ve already expressed what I need to express in the previous chapter, I decided to drop some fun facts and trivia here!

This series was made out of spite because of how I lost the 50/50 to Keqing in Ayato’s first released banner on my first 10 pulls and wanted to make him suffer. Fortunately enough, writing this series seems enough to make him come home 80 pulls later b4 his banner ended! 

I also wanted to write a story that’s based on my number one favorite Taylor Swift song from one of my favorite albums of hers: right where you left me! This song is one of the most relatable songs I’ve ever listened to ever since I first heard it in 2021, and it’s been stuck with me to this day as of 2024 (can you believe it? It’s been almost 4 years!) 

And fun fact, I found out that the evermore album was released on my birthday (December 11), so it feels right that I made the series inspired by the album <3 !

The following are some fun facts from my drafts:

Diluc's arranged spouse was supposed to be Donna, but I unfortunately didn’t make that happen since the way Donna would treat the situation wouldn’t be the same way as what Jean would do. 

Thoma wasn’t actually supposed to be a male lead until I started planning for the no body no crime part. I don’t know what made me assign Thoma as the second male lead, but when I did, I didn’t like how my series will be another “second male lead who has no chance with the main lead” so I made him the person the reader actually ends up with in the epilogue soon after!

– below are things that i’ve scraped from this series ! –

Before I started planning each chapter, Diluc was originally supposed to be the reader's plus one. The plot involves how the reader asks Diluc, reader’s friend since college, to be their plus one since he lives in Mondstadt and he reluctantly agrees, and throughout the wedding trip, they slowly fall in love with each other. 

It was such a good plot too if you saw the details I wrote for it ! But I scrapped it off because the plot would’ve been really long, and I want the series to focus on the story of reader finally and properly moving on from their breakup with their first love, Ayato. I’m aware that I could’ve followed this plot while reader moves on with Ayato, but again, I feel like it just wasn't it for me. though who knows, i might make a one-shot fic of it ;)

Another fun fact is there was supposed to be a second part series after Evermore that’s called Folklore and it ends with you dating Kaeya. 

in this series, you first meet Kaeya during Diluc’s wedding and spend time with him. Sure enough, you hate that guy, but you had no choice but to spend time with him throughout your stay in Mondstadt since he’s such a great tour guide. 

You were glad that you’re finally back to Liyue and not be able to see that playboy anymore, so consider yourself shocked when you waltzed into your office and saw him. 

Turns out, the reason why he’s always spending time with you in Mondstadt is not because of how he wants to guide you around mondstadt, but because he wants to get to know the person he’ll be working with in Liyue! 

So yes, this is somewhat an enemies to lovers + office romance story, and unlike Diluc and Ayato, this guy has no chance in getting into arranged marriages and immediately shoots his shot with you ;> !

Extra note: Dainsleif was supposed to be in folklore series as the second male lead hehe 

I was really looking forward to writing this series until chapter thirteen happened. If I have to be real honest, I was disappointed with myself for what happened, and I was afraid that you guys will be even more disappointed with me if i make another series, so i immediately scrapped it off :(( 

But to clarify more, even if chapter thirteen went well, I would’ve still scrapped it off since – as you know, I have a health issue that caused my big hiatus – and I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be able to finish the second series at all, let alone start it.

Instead of that, I decided to just make it into one of the epilogues of what could’ve been! Feel free to check the folklore epilogue once it’s out! 

I think I can reveal more information with the Q&A from my evermore survey, so while I’m compiling your questions, feel free to ask more right away! 

That's all for this series. Once again, thank you so so so much for giving me the pleasure of writing this fic. I might not make a series soon, but if I ever have the luxury of time, I hope you guys will be there to read it.

Thank you!

Sincerely, your penpal, Dan xoxo

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