#Dusk has some good ideas

[hazelcephalopod]

Dusk, probably: “how many of these guys could I take out in this race?”

[greycaelum]

Ok im gonna drop this here for u to write it whenever u want,cause its been hunting me

Royalty au where gojo and reader are living happily,that is until someone poisons his queen when they're having dinner together.

She drinks the wine,and suddenly falls to the ground while throwing up blood and blood running from her eyes. Shoko manages to save her and geto holds gojo back so he doesnt do anything stupid. But when his queen wakes up she's really weak so shoko tells gojo about a flower that'll heal her up,so gojo leaves in order to search for it.

But when he's back,geto leads him to the flower garden the queen loves and he finds her among the flowers,a little better and seeing her not on deadbed has him running toward her,lifting her up and spinning while both of them laugh and kiss

Happy ending

Scribbles & Doodles—Lotus Tears

—Elven Emperor Gojo Satoru X Human Empress Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

His azure orbs stare as you reach to cup his cheeks with a slight understanding frown painting your brows. It doesn't help that you are wearing the other pair of purple robes. It made his belly warm, and his chest swelled with pride. You are pairing... He was the only one who could wear the purple robes since he was born, a lone star, but not anymore. And that was enough to make his heart skip a beat. "Will you be back for dinner?" Your tone carried hope and joy into his day. He doesn't understand why he has to part with you every day... He heaved a sigh hoping the day turns to dusk soon so he can hold you again to his heart's content. "For you, always, My Flower."

𑁍 Genre: historical fantasy, elves/faes, dark magic if you squint, interracial marriage

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (4.3k)— poison, mad Satoru, elven traditions and cultures, fluff, angst, comfort, implication of major character death, mating bonds, talks of rebirth

𑁍 ✒️☕: Hi to the person who sent this ask. Pardon the very long wait, but I loved writing this one, I just need to say your ask is one of my fave ideas for elf Satoru so I tweaked some things, fantasy tropes are my favorite to write to escape canon~ Grey,

At night when you lay in their bed, your head atop his chest, he cannot sleep a wink for he has forever to spare and only a lifetime with you in his arms. For such a fragile flower, even a man who has grown bleak and untouched over the long passage of time, Satoru cannot help but stroke your head gently, scaring the pixies who would try to sneak in to soak with his mate's presence. He doesn't know if it's a good thing or bad that his mate is loved by the small faes. But one thing is for sure, he doesn't delight that they are trying to pry you awake from his arms. It's no secret he doesn't like sharing... especially when it's about you.

For a human to become the Empress of the High Courts is an unheard thing. Improbable would be the word. And you do not need to know what methods Satoru used to make this happen. Because you already knew that behind his delicate beauty, lies the prickly thorns that wield the absolute power over nature. There is a reason why he was able to rule undisputedly in the indifferent flow of nature over the passage of time.

When he married you, he knew he would uproot the earth and supplant it again and again to give whatever you desired. He is the supreme ruler and Emperor of the High Courts and would only sheath his indifference in the presence of his Empress. He has broken down the millennial walls covering his heart and found himself enthralled by the maiden who never feared the Dark Woods. She found beauty in the mystery of the borders, and he found solace in her presence. She has grown to be his beloved Flower.

Fortunately for you, even as a born human, you have adapted to the faes far quicker. Learning their language and making up for your lack of magic, you learned diplomacy. It was not easy to learn such an intricate affair, but fortune has smiled upon you, with Satoru, who has boundless knowledge of the matter to be your tutor.

"Is this adequate enough?" Satoru hopefully looked at you in the mirror and the craft he had finished for a satisfactory answer.

"Satoru, we are not going to any gathering, are we?" You chuckled as you sat in front of the golden mirror while Satoru stood behind, holding an ivory comb in his hand as he carefully brushed your silky tresses. Small flowers adorned your hair like trinkets as he wove them skillfully into a braid. At this point, your handmaidens have lost their job, with your mate attending to almost everything you need unless he is away for the court.

"At least let me do this before I leave for my duties." He brought the tip of your hair to his lips, kissing it as he stared at you, a longing look on his face. This prompt you to turn the chair and face the elven emperor.

His azure orbs stare as you reach to cup his cheeks with a slight understanding frown painting your brows. It doesn't help that you are wearing the other pair of purple robes. It made his belly warm, and his chest swelled with pride. You are pairing... He was the only one who could wear the purple robes since he was born, a lone star, but not anymore. And that was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Will you be back for dinner?" Your tone carried hope and joy into his day.

He doesn't understand why he has to part with you every day... He heaved a sigh hoping the day turns to dusk soon so he can hold you again to his heart's content.

"For you, always, My Flower." Satoru tilted your chin and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "I do not wish to leave." He grumbled and connected your forehead, staring right into your eyes.

Your soft chuckle fluttered through his ears as you reached to cup his cheeks and stare into his eyes. A sense of tranquility floated in your orbs bringing his heart into a puddle of cotton.

"I will wait for you at dinner, Satoru. So the earlier you finish the earlier we see each other. Alright?"

"Alright, as you wish." Satoru sighed and kissed the tip of your nose. "The things you make me do..."

He never thought he would one day sit under the shade of foliage with his Empress on his lap, reading through some parchments while he pilfered some wildflowers to braid her hair. Or to walk while gently pulling the reins of his equine, leading the elk through safe passages whilst you ride on the back. Things he never imagined and things he never thought he would do. But the second you came it all seemed natural for him to indulge you in every way possible.

You are like a brittle glass flower to him that he cannot help but wrap you in the most flawless silks and softest ermine furs. You evoke in him a firm sense of fierce protectiveness.

So imagine the horror and derangement inside him when you were still smiling and talking with him at the dinner table but suddenly blood flowed down your nose, followed by a series of coughs drawing blood from your throat as you dropped to the floor, desperately gasping for air.

If it wasn't for his friend Suguru, a Dragon Lord who he has grown with, who happened to visit the very same day only to pin him down in his rampage of killing the perpetrators hiding in the imperial kitchen staff, perhaps one-fourth of the castle must've already been slaughtered.

All he could see was red. The burning flames consuming the imperial castle and the wilting forest mirrored the despair in his heart. He couldn't hear that his people were wailing for him. All he could ever see was his mate dying each second from the potent poison coursing in her bloodstream.

"Don't touch her!"

He snarled with pure frenzy when Shoko tried to reach out to your unmoving body in his arms.

"Satoru, Shoko is only going to heal her. Your mate needs help." Suguru tried to reason with the livid, elven emperor cradling the unmoving body of his bleeding empress. "She would not do anything to her, only help her."

Suguru could see how unfocused and distraught the dark blue eyes of his friend were, so far from his usual calm and regal sense. Satoru's eyes were bloodshot red. Thankfully, he didn't move when Shoko reached out again to heal his mate. 

A faint color of life returned to your face, but you were still as pale as alabaster, still unconscious. The fire consuming the woods slowly died down... A slight sense of sanity returned to Satoru, who held you close, ready to hide you from the world if not for Shoko's words.

"She's in moratorium state... I've only managed to stabilize her body and freeze the poison to stop it from spreading further. Right now, we need to find an antidote... Or else she will only have seven days to live. For now, let's take the Empress to a safe place." Shoko pinched the bridge of her nose as she looked back to the fire slowly dying down, leaving shared trees and ashes. "And fix the chaos you have ignited, Your Majesty, the Emperor."

There are, but severely few times he let his emotions overcome him. He could count it in his hand. But ever since that sight of your throwing up blood, Satoru experienced a myriad of emotions he thought he was never capable of.

Fear... Despair... Uselessness... and most of all heartbreak...

You don't know how many millions of times his soul has shattered in every second he held your cold hand whilst he channeled all healing spell he knows into your body as you sleep on the cradle of the sacred tree cushioned by wildflowers and vines dangling down the archaic branches of the colossal wood. It seems you're merely asleep, but it feels like it's been forever since he last saw your eyes. The reality is that day by day, you are losing your life while all he can do is sit here, rooted in place, too afraid that if he steps away, he might not see you again.

"Your Majesty..." Shoko came forward. The Emperor has been sitting here for three days straight beside his dying mate in silence holding her hand, unmoving, and would attack anyone who dares to step one foot closer to the lying Empress. The court matters have been neglected, with only the elders holding the court together in his absence. The woodlands are closely related to the essence of the Emperor. The depression of his heart manifested in the woods, which gradually lost the green leaves and were replaced by withered branches...

"I have found a possible cure for the Empress."

Shoko had never felt strong empathy, but she did feel a bit of ache for her friend when he raised his head at her, almost pleading with his bloodshot eyes.

"Speak."

"Do you remember the Sacred Tombs of Tvar?"

The sacred burial grounds of the late Empresses. It's deep-seated in the heart of the Mountain of Hanging Tombs, guarded by the mythical beasts his forefathers have created to protect the resting place of the late Imperial Rulers.

"What about it?" Satoru has only been there once when his Imperial Father has taken him to visit his late Mother. It's a mystical mountain filled with ancient elements, from the creatures to the plants, that can only be heard in folklore.

"For high faes like us, the poison the Empress has induced was nothing serious. But to humans, it is lethal." Shoko sighed. "The spell I cast was only a valve to keep the poison at bay until we can find an antidote. On the seventh day, when the sun rises, the spell will cease to exist, and the poison will corrode her bo—"

"Tell me, what should I do? Anything Shoko. I would kill if I had to." The bones on his knuckles protruded with his clenched fists. The Emperor cut her off. He would not hear her say such ominous words about his mate's life.

He would uproot the earth to find anything that can cure you. Anything.

"Killing might be going too far, but it's not impossible." Shoko took out from her robe a parchment containing a sketch of what seemed like a flower and handed it to her Emperor. She never slept over the three days in a desperate search for any cure. "There's a flower that can only be seen in the Sacred Tombs of Tvar that may be able to save the Empress. As we all know, only the direct descendant of the Imperial Family can enter the Mountain of Hanging Tombs."

The Mountain of Hanging Tombs is as ominous as the name implies. It's a mountain range covered with black mist and ferocious mythical animals and exotic plants. It's not that only the direct descendants of the Imperial Elven Bloodline can enter the mountains, but the lower beasts residing on the foot of the mountains refrain from attacking an imperial descendant since they are born from the first Emperor's blood as well. No ordinary fae can survive these mythical beasts, and could only result in death. Thus, it has become known not to venture deep into the mountains.

Satoru, however, wasted no time to cross the valleys leading to the burial grounds. He needs to find that flower.

Lotus Tears...

It is said that the flower can heal any illness. However, it's impossible to scour for the elusive flower, which roots deep only in the burial grounds of the Empresses and leave unscathed from the toxic plants and mythical animals on top of the Mountain of Hanging Tombs that will attack him at any given second.

"Why do you always put the flower on my left ear? I'm not yet married." You asked him during one of the days he stayed longer to watch over you as you searched for some wild, beautiful flowers in the woods.

Satoru stared at the magenta lilacs he conjured from his hands and tucked them into your left ear.

"You look beautiful in any shade of purple..." It matches the color of his robe.

You pursed your lips and huffed clearly not satisfied by his vague answer.

"You didn't answer my question, Satoru."

He chuckled at your angry face, bopping your nose, making you annoyed as you tried to punch him clumsily. The little girl still has the same pout even as she bloomed into a prim and proper lady. It was too adorable even to be called 'angry.' He jumps down the tree and walks up to you, bringing the tip of your hair to his lips for a soft parting salutation.

"Next time... I will tell you, My Precious Flower." With that, he took you to the borders of the human village and the dark woods, as your Mother was already looking for you. He watches you run into the light while slowly walking back into the shadows.

Maybe... He should have never forced this fate on you. You may have called on him in desperation to flee from the humans chasing after you, but he, being the one who knew better, should have returned you to your realm rather than letting his selfishness devour him and claim you as his mate. If he had done so, then you wouldn't have met this predicament.

You wouldn't have been lying in your blood, cold like a corpse...

"Where is she?" Satoru's heart felt like it was dying when he saw that your body was gone from the bed of the sacred tree. "Where is my mate?! Shoko!"

Did he lose you? Did he come too late?

He stared at the blue lotus he so carefully dug out of the perilous mountain despite the throbbing pain on his shoulders after a chimera managed to bite him before he could slay it.

No, you cannot leave him like this... Oxygen left his lungs, and his feet staggered, unable to support the weight of heaven, crushing his soul. His vision is going black, not like this. He barely got to dote on you. Barely got to drown you with the love he has secretly hidden all these years. No, no, no. Satoru's throat ran dry. He wants to scream as if the tearing of his heart wasn't enough to shout his despair.

The forest closely linked to his essence slowly wilted as if joining their Emperor in his mourning. The leaves slowly dried up. The flowers closed, and the vines started shrinking to twigs. His sorrow is mirrored by nature.

His mind went black, his heart slowly crumbled in every passing second that his eyes could not see you. Why did the gods despise him to tear apart the only joy he has ever touched for what seems like an eternity?

"Satoru!" Suguru found him in haste after the forest slowly grew darker and darker.

Who knew that his apathetic friend could have this vast amount of emotions to turn the lush evergreen forest into a barren land? Suguru wasted no time to drag what seemed to be a lifeless Satoru into a maze-like garden.

Shoko was there. She immediately snatched the mystical lotus from the Emperor. Satoru could care. All things pale in comparison to his mate... All things. He dropped to his knees, holding onto your hand.

"Y-Y/n?" Satoru's throat was parched as he saw your sleeping body, with the wilting grass around, as if you were truly taken away into the underworld... This was your favorite garden... All flowers in here, he has grown with his own hands. Not it seems like he has planted those flowers only to send you off to the afterlife. "No, you can't do this to me, My Flower... I would lose my mind." He muttered like a madman, bringing your cold hands to rub against his cheeks, desperately searching for any signs of warmth but finding nothing...

Suguru tried to pry him away from your frail body, but his malevolence met those who tried to separate you from him until the Dragon Lord had no choice but to use all means to knock Satoru out...

The last thing he saw was your sleeping face as he desperately begged his eyes not to close... He needs to see you, to be beside you... to hold you...

"Satoru...?" You were both sitting under the shade of a magnolia tree with his head on your lap, eyes closed from the glaring sun, meanwhile, you intertwined his lustrous hair into a loose braid, tucking little flowers in your masterpiece.

"Hmm?" It was one of the days when he had enough time to traverse the hills with you and meet other fae tribes so you may have time away from the Imperial Courts.

"Promise me that if the memories we have together start to hurt... you will forget me."

His eyes opened in a split second, and he looked back with furrowed brows only to meet your small smile.

"That is nonsense. I would never wish to forget you. You are my mate." Satoru sat straight and took your hand in his. "What led you to this ominous thought, My Flower? Do not think of such things, we are bonded for eternity."

You gently shake your head.

"You're an elf... I'm a human. Our life span runs differently. Some day... You will have to remember me longer than you have held me..." The bitterness of your eyes was quickly concealed as you closed them. "That's simply the order of nature..."

Satoru was tongue-tied... He cannot face that reality yet... Not yet... If ever the Lady of Light is listening to him, he prays that the sun and moon slow down... Forever never seems to be enough...

Forever will never be enough...

"Satoru...?" 

He wishes never to wake up. If you're not in the world he opens his eyes to, he may as well live in this fantasy. He has lived such a long time in solitude. So even if it's just a fragment of imagination or make-believe, he would choose that sweet lie rather than face the cold reality you're gone...

"Satoru..."

Your voice... It's sweeter than the sirens and softer than the small faes singing with the birds in early dawn...

A soft touch brushed off the fringes on his temples, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. Unable to bear the brightness, his eyes opened and looked up to the blue sky...

Slowly, his blurry eyes met your worried ones as you tucked your hair behind your ear while staring at him with his head laying on your lap.

"You're finally awake... Thank goodness!" You sighed and smiled. "Welcome home, Satoru..."

Your hair... It's not the same color as it was... It shone a bright silver like his under the sunlight, which only the imperial descendants can inherit... But he knew it was you... His soul tells him so.

"Y-Y/n?" He reaches out to touch your cheeks that have grown prominent... more elf-like... "This isn't a dream?"

Your sweet chuckle filled his ears as your warm palms held his and pressed it to your cheeks, kissing his wrist.

"I must've worried you so... I'm sorry, but I'm fine now... because of you."

You're really warm... So warm, you melted the millennial thorny wall he built around his heart. Your palms are so dainty compared to him, but they have always been able to soothe him more than anything else.

"You... You look like me..." Satoru slowly sat up as he took in your features. "My Flower... you look like a fae..." Satoru is a bit confused about the sudden transformation. You look just as you are, but the silver hair, pointy ears, and sharper features... 

"It must've been because of the flower's healing attributes," Shoko explained, taking a step forward to assess the changes on you, who indeed looks like an elf now. 

"Explain, Shoko." Satoru looked at the woman as he was adamant about answers.

"The flowers had healing attributes; it's just a speculation, but aside from healing, we all know that lotus also signifies rebirth. The flower may have deemed it necessary to change the human blood running in the Empress's veins into elven blood for her to heal from the poison fully... As for the silver hair, I can only think that since the Lotus Tears came from the sacred buriel grounds of the late Empresses, it must have absorbed most of their remaining energy and passed it on to the Empress through the flower's healing attributes..."

"Does that mean my Mate is now an elf?" Satoru cannot believe how these events have turned out for you and him. He took your hand and studied your features... You are still you, but indeed, there swirls a more mystical air around you, and only a faint scent of human blood is left lingering in you.

"The Empress is not yet fully an elf at the moment, but I am sure before the fortnight ends, her transformation will be complete, and she will truly be a full-fledged fae, like us." Shoko nodded.

You stared at Satoru... The once wilting forest which you woke up to slowly regained life.

For a man so stoic, he is an open book... You can't help but chuckle as the smaller faes slowly creep out of their homes and rejoice at the blossoming life enveloping the woods again. Shoko and Suguru have left, leaving you and your mate some privacy in the garden.

"I..." Satoru cannot confess enough what he had done out of rage and sorrow when he thought you were gone.

"I know..." You shake your head telling him to speak no more as you took him in your arms... This time, you could feel him ever closer, hear his thoughts louder, and see him clearer. Everything he has done and he has said, you knew and felt in each passing second... But no words were uttered, as you can feel the remorse coursing in his being. What he needs the most is your embrace...

Nature can renew itself as long as it is given care and time...

The trees are once again full of luscious foliage, the grass is back to its evergreen hue, and the different faes have returned to their homes and gone through their duties as usual. Satoru is somehow a bit busier with the court matters, while you, the Empress, needed a little more recuperation before you come back to your court duties.

"Your Majesty... We always knew you smelled sweet even before you became like us."

The smaller sprites sat on your finger as they flapped around you, more drawn than ever. It seems that your new form has made you more captivating to their instincts, just like how they are drawn to the presence of their Emperor.

"Really? Though, I know you just want more sugary treats." You played with their cheeks until they perked up and bowed to someone. "See you tomorrow, Your Majesty!"

You didn't have to guess who made the little sprites flee in haste.

You turned around, and sure enough, you were swept off your feet as a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. His sweet sandalwood scent filled your senses, soothing your racing heart.

"I missed you, My Flower... What did my mate get for me?" Satoru looked at the basket you're holding, filled with several flowers from the garden he built for you.

"It's nothing much... It's too loose to be called a crown." You showed him the crown you clumsily made with some lilacs. But Satoru guided your hand to put it on his head, indulging you with anything. You have now fully turned into an elf. Bright silver hair, lucid eyes, and the sweet scent of jasmine and orchid around you with the purple robes that only the Imperial Rulers can wear. Anyone who sees you will immediately recognize you as an Imperial Fae and their Empress.

"I would take anything you offer me, Y/n." Satoru softly kissed her forehead... his lips slowly kissed his way down your nose until he found your lips. "Can I ask for a kiss?"

"What if I say my kisses are not offered?" You raised a brow.

Satoru merely shrugged it off with a smirk.

"I'm pretty sure you can make exceptions for your husband, no?" Satoru chuckled. "Can I have my kiss now?"

Your sweet smile and soft giggle drowned in as he captured your lips for a gentle but passionate kiss.

If the lotus has tears, he will shed it only and only for you...

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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[teatreeoilll]

|| Selfish (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

In which Gojo is so protective over reader she's sure he hates her. Couldn't be further from the truth, but how would you know it without some good old-fashioned over dramatic angst?

TW: mentions of smoking and blood.

"He hates me. I swear, I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating..." You catch yourself muttering on the steps leading to the training field. The breeze tickles your skin, you cast your shoes aside to change them to trainers. "I didn't even have time to go back to my room and change. All day it's do this, go get that… I swear, Kyoto sounds like a great idea these days."

Nobara sits beside you, her look shifts to your shoes, "Where'd you get those? I never saw them in this color before."

"Kugisaki!" You plea, "I'm serious, please. Gojo hates me. How does it make sense that I'm stuck in damn Grade 2 for the past year and half?"

"Maybe," She takes her phone out to take a picture of your shoes, "You're just not as good as you think?"

"Oi, Kugisaki, don't talk to your elders like that!" Yuji's voice butts in, he sits with a thump on the stairs next to you. "But I can't imagine Gojo-Sensei hating anyone. Especially a teaching assistant. It makes no sense."

It really does make no sense, you drowned your face in your palms. How are all these kids supposed to take you seriously when they see you humiliated daily? Rejected from missions. Stuck on the same Jujutsu-Grade as the second year students for so long you've lost all hopes of ever advancing anywhere. Forever a teaching assistant, a mere substitute teacher for the times when the truly powerful had more important things to do.

Disheartened, you've reduced to sharing your feelings with first-years before training. "Alright, pair up. We haven't got all day!" You get up from the steps, trying to pick up the remains of your self-esteem.

Dusk crept over the surrounding trees. You've been watching the students for hours now, noticing how through each change in their pairings they've gotten better and faster. Familiar feelings loomed over you. That's it. That has to be it. Another day of watching these kids surpass their own limits so simply will surely be the end of the line.

You marched straight into Gojo's office, not even making an effort to change to something not drenched with sweat.

"We will not have that conversation again," the white haired man didn't even bother to look up from his phone. It's true, you've had this conversation every couple of months - and you've always received the same unsatisfying answers.

"You're right," you found yourself standing straight across from him, the palms of your hands hitting the desk in between you a little too hard.

"Careful with that, it's expensive." He says. You stare at him in silence. How is it, that with all the anger you hoped he'd notice you've directed at him, he wouldn't even avert his gaze from his phone for one minute?

"Saturo, I've -"

"First name basis, are we now?" Another smug smirk sent your way, your cheeks began to burn.

"I think first name basis may be appropriate, since I've decided to transfer to Kyoto." Oh god, when was that decision made? You've always liked Tokyo, the proximity from the city made all your futile efforts here worthwhile. But it was too late to back down. Gojo's hand reached to his blindfold, one blue eye peeks at you.

"Alright, good luck then." The blindfold snapped back on, his attention returned quickly to his phone.

"Good luck then," you mutter to yourself, walking back through the darkening corridors to your room, "Good luck then, huh?" It's been over five years now since you've first arrived in Jujutsu High, was good luck then all that he could say? What a fucking -"

-

"Emergency!" A voice rang through the building. Oh god, what now? You think, with your eyes set on your room to wallow the evening in your newly made terrible decision.

"Someone! Please!" Your legs carried you before your reasoning did. Through the curves of the hallways, straight to the first-year's rooms.

"It's Yuji," Kugisaki looked at you, panting, "He tried to pet Megumi's divine dog. I don't think the dog liked it."

Yuji held out his arm. After a thorough inspection, it was just a scary looking graze on his forearm. He muttered to Nobara it wasn't much to fuss about, the blood smearing on the sleeve of his uniform. "It's nothing bad, we'll tend to it any way to avoid an infection," you prompted him to get up from his seat, "I think Shoko's still in the infirmary."

You sat on the infermary bed, with Yuji already on his way back to his room you'd found the time to share your troubles. Shoko sighed, fumbling for a lighter through the things on the tray next to her. "Shoko, I'm going to Kyoto."

She lit her cigarette, the smell of smoke suffocating the small room. "That's nice, when will you be back?" She asked, huffing smoke in the direction of the open window.

"I don't think I'll be back for a while. Or at all, actually." She dragged a chair to the side of the bed, watching your fingers tap on the fabric.

"I wondered when you'll finally do that. You spoke to Satoru again, didn't you?" A sigh escaped her lips. She'd rarely admit to liking spending time with anyone, but the occasion seemed to call for it. "I'll miss you. That prick always thinks he's doing the right thing."

"I hardly think it's right to deny promotions from anyone for so long. He made sure I was so busy that I could hardly find the time to go on missions." Shoko weighed her words carefully, tapping carefully on the ashtray, removing the ash residue from her cigarette.

"It's because he'd never tell you how scared he is for something to happen to you. It's still selfish, don't get me wrong there - but I think he's far too afraid of something happening that it has become easier for him to sabotage you. I told him repeatedly to stop but he just -" Her words cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ieri! You there?" Gojo's impatient knocking had turned frantic. "The lights are on, Shoko. Open up!" Your eyes shot up at Shoko, speak of the devil. The handle turned lightly.

Gojo entered the room, turning straight to Shoko, not even looking at your direction. You'd managed to quickly find an excuse to leave, struggling to believe that's the same man who'd do anything out of concern for you. You closed the door, fingers lingering on the round handle, thinking how wrong it would be to eavesdrop while pressing your ear to the door.

"You know she's really leaving, right?" Shoko's distant voice lectured. "That's on you for acting selfish, Gojo." As you thought, he said nothing. Quickly diverting the conversation to something relating to a mission, another one you weren't supposed to be a part of. Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop. You stepped away from the door to turn to the direction of your room. Finally, some good wallowing time.

-

By the next morning, you've already made all the necessary calls. Wishing somehow it would be harder to convince the higher-ups of your sudden move, but it seemed that help was welcome anywhere, and work always needed to be done.

With your bags half packed, you were almost ready to say the sudden goodbyes to the students. The nostalgic look on every part of your room had already taken over, the final time of staring at that crack on the ceiling, the final time of covering that old coffee stain on the nightstand with a small glass whale statuette Gojo brought from one of his trips. Perhaps it's better to leave it there.

You gathered your nerves, opening the door, just to watch the tall white haired man pace from side to side in the hallway. "Did I forget something?" Your hand held the door open. He jumped up a bit from the sudden voice.

His pacing slowed, he took a step towards you, you gulped at the narrowing distance between your bodies. "I - spoke to Shoko. I think I got carried away, you don't have to leave on my account." The words felt empty as he said them, Shoko must have chewed him out well yesterday.

"You know Go-," You inhaled, "Satoru, not everything happens because of you." He dropped his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes piercing through you. You hardly ever saw him without his blindfold, his stare sending shivers down your spine.

"Shoko was quite adamant it's all my fault, So I thought I better -"

You laughed, "Shoko was also quite adamant that all this time you just cared about me, so I guess even smart people can be wrong sometimes."

"But I do." His hand brushes through his hair, just for it to fall over his eyes again.

"Funny," you snarl, he studies your expression silently. You've taken advantage of that silence to continue, "So all these years you were just protecting me from dying? I thought sorcerers had accepted that fate when walking in here."

"Some things are worse than death," A solemn look takes hold of his face, you could have sworn the color of his eyes darkened.

"Do you take me for such a weakling?" Your tone of voice already deeming the conversation as pointless.

"I never said that. I think you care, perhaps too much. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself over anything." The joyless tone of voice was far from his usual demeanor.

"Well, now you wouldn't have to see me at all." Your nerves had gotten the best of you. You hardly meant to say it, but as the words were spat out of our mouth, it seemed inappropriate to back off this course of action.

"You're not listening to me, (Y/N)" He could hardly cover how irritated he was, his hand gripped your forearm, pushing you towards him. His breath stroked your face, "I would never want something to happen to you, but you seem to be pushing towards it all the time. Aren't you happy with the students? Why do all of you have to go running around searching for burdens to carry when you don't have to?" His fist contracts tighter around your arm. His teeth clench to stop another flow of words he'd regret later on.

"Satoru, who's all of us?" In your voice a sense of shame, an empty pit has formed down at the bottom of your stomach, his eyes still fixed upon you. The same feeling of being scorned as a child, a tough love you'd thought would pass you by at this age.

"Aren't you happy?" he questions you again, you wiggle your arm as a sign of pain, even as he lets it go you still feel the marks that his fingers left there.

"I am, It's just that -" He couldn't let you go on for a second longer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, your breath sucked away by his tongue. A long minute passed, your hand had found a happy place inside his hair, his arms had restricted your movement and emitted safety all together.

Just as he'd stopped for a breath, you'd decided it'd be far too hard to continue the conversation if this went on.

"I'd like to not be hindered, Satoru," you wiped the wetness of your lips with your sleeve, "Nobody comes to Jujutsu-High to be protected, they come to protect. If I can't do it when you're there, I'll go." You watched his face change, his mind racing behind the sunglasses.

"You can do it here," A piece of sadness was left in an otherwise tranquil voice.

"Good." Your smile had reminded him to breathe, "Now," you mused, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" His laughter lifted the tension from your body,

"Oh - Dirty," The familiar smirk had settled down the final waves of emotion.

-

"Not a word, Shoko." You pleaded to her again.

"If you don't want the school talking about it, then don't have your arguments in the hall." She took a long drag from her smoke, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" She imitates you silently, chuckling under her breath.

"Shoko, I'm begging you!" 

[studioghibelli]

three’s a party- a joel x tess x reader story

summary: joel knows you, his pretty little girlfriend, has always harbored sexual feelings for tess. he can’t help but oblige you on your birthday.

warnings: joel watches you and tess fuck, he basically gets cucked by tess, porn with no plot, bisexual reader, smut (f on f action, f & m receiving oral, tribbing, unprotected sex, very brief sir kink, light mentions of choking, spiting, daddy kink, dirty talk, use of the word whore and slut, dom!tess, sub!reader, kind of sub!joel (?), threesome)

notes: this is pure filth. i love it. mdni, or else!!! (not spell checked or edited….. sorry besties)

The room was damp, and smelled mildly of mildew.

Outside, the rush of dusk had plastered the night sky in shades of navy and onyx, no light inside the little square room except the dangling bulb which swung from the ceiling, a flickering twinge of gold illuminating the four corners with every sway of the string.

The mattress was old and stale, the coils squeaking with every movement, and to the side, a tattered arm chair the color of the earth rested without movement. Sitting on the dirty cover was Joel Miller, the man who had been responsible for orchestrating this night. And now there he was, watching his girl moan and writhe with pleasure, her legs pushed back by the hands of his work partner, Tess.

You didn’t have to ask Joel or say anything outright for him to notice that desire which lingered in your eyes each time you saw Tess. The way you would suck your bottom lip between in your teeth when her chest brushed against yours, the way you would let out a quiet sigh every time her fingers pushed a strand of hair from your face.

Joel Miller wasn’t an idiot.

It was the end of the world, and he didn’t mind sharing you. Well, not with Tess, anyways. He trusted her and loved her like family, but if anyone else tried to get funny with you, he’d have their head served up on a silver platter just for you, à la John the Baptist style.

When your birthday rolled around the corner, he knew just what he had to do for his pretty babydoll: indulge you- In the one way he knew you’d like best.

It took some convincing with Tess.

“I don’t want you trying to kill me for touching your girl.” She had joked, arms crossed as she stared at him plainly. “Are you sure she wants this?”

“‘Course she does. You ain’t dumb. She ‘bout loses her mind every time you get close to her.” They shared a laugh, and Tess soon agreed.

But with you, well, it took no convincing at all. You about jumped out of your skin with excitement when he brought the idea up, happily complying to the plan he had in mind. You trusted him deeply, more than anyone else on the earth, and knew he would always take good care of you.

And now you were here, in this situation. On the two decades’ old mattress with Tess’ tongue swirling circles around your clit, lapping at your soaked cunt as though you were the last thing she would ever taste. From the corner of your eye you saw Joel, sitting and watching you with his lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed and face void of any emotion. If he didn’t have a massive boner tenting the fabric of his jeans, you would have wondered if he was growing angry.

No. No anger there. Not an ounce of it.

Your hands clenched the fabric of the cotton sheets tightly within your fists, nails tearing at the seams as the woman you had craved for so long lapped up every drop of your wetness. You were in Heaven, her skilled tongue exploring every inch of you that cried out. She hadn’t missed a spot on your clit, flicking it and slurping incessantly, until you were putty in her hands, for her to play with freely.

Tess pulled away, middle finger sinking deep into your tight hole. She looked up, an arrogant smirk crossing her lips, and relished in the quiet mewl you let out for her.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you pretty girl?”

You whimpered in response, hips bucking up as she flicked her finger just right, tapping up against your g-spot. Your thighs quivered.

“Tess!” You cried out. “Please.”

“No, no, no.” She climbed on top of you, naked cunt straddling your thigh, ring and middle finger now sunk deep into your entrance. Tess leaned forward, lips brushing against your ear, tongue licking a stripe against that sensitive patch of skin that always made you shiver. “You call me daddy.”

With wide eyes your neck snapped towards Joel, who was still watching you wordlessly, eyes dark, hands resting on the arms of the chair. He didn’t speak, didn’t flinch, didn’t make any sort of move. He only watched, like a statue stuck in place, eyes on you, and you only.

Tess began to grind herself against your thigh, a soft groan leaving her, before she grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up. “Not him. Me. Eyes on me.” The blunt edge of her nails sunk into your skin, and you felt her knee gently brush against your clit.

“Need you.” You begged breathlessly. “Need you.”

“Need me how? Tell daddy. What do you need from me, baby?” She cooed softly to you, her words dripping with a faux sense of worry. Behind her closed lips, you heard a faint snicker. Tess was getting off on this. She was getting off on seeing you beg, on seeing you come- quite literally- undone.

“Rub your pussy on mine, please….” A few beats passed before you spoke again. “Daddy.”

Tess grinned down at you, pushing your legs back before lowering herself, her pretty pink cunt pressed flush against yours.

Joel grunted. It was the first time he had made any noise. You glanced over at him, gently extending your hand. “Joel?” You called out softly, beckoning him forward. He wasted no time making his way to you, crouching down by the bed as he grasped your hand, plush lips pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m here, darlin’. Right here.”

“Stay right here. Stay.” You whispered.

You looked down at Tess’ pussy on yours. She kept her pubic hair short, yet it was still there, and it looked damn good on her. Her clit was bigger than yours, sticking out from her folds in a way that made your mouth water. Pink and pretty, dripping just from pleasing you. Your hips bucked up at the feeling, completely involuntarily.

Tess looked down at your connected cunts, and slowly dragged her clit up and down between your folds, her hands pressed flat against your thighs as she watched, lip stuck between her teeth.

“God, you’re fucking soaked. She get this wet for you, Texas?” Arrogance dripped from her words.

“Wetter.” He grunted, arrogance matching hers, with his eyes burning right into your face. You turned your head to look at Joel, and he gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “How’s it feel, baby?”

“So good. So fucking good.” You whined. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, rough hand cupping your cheek.

“Such a good girl, you know that? Takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ. Yeah, that’s my good girl. Such a good slut for your daddies, ain’t ya?” His voice was low and deep in your ear, for you only.

You looked at Tess, feeling her own clit circling yours. You gasped out softly, her throbbing button slowly poking through your folds, barely penetrating you, but doing so just enough that you felt that familiar tingle of arousal shoot up your body. Tess lowered her hand, flicking your nipple, before her calloused fingers dragged down the softness of your belly, finding your clit and pinching it lightly.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” She purred, thumb rolling circles into your bud. “You’re wet as a fucking waterfall. Such a cute pussy, too. You know that? So fucking tight and pink, I might just steal you from Joel, make you mine.”

A low growl of annoyance came from beside you. “Watch it Tess.” He warned.

She giggled a girlish giggle, her pussy dragging up and down against yours. “Just kidding. No need to get your cock in a knot, Miller.”

You whined as she grinded against you, her wetness seeping in to your own. “I think I’m gonna cum on this little pussy of yours.”

Joel tightened his grip on your hand, leaning forward and kissing your temple, right where your sweat was gathering. You were whining and squirming, your orgasm right there, yet still so far away. You looked at your boyfriend, and he kissed you deeply, hand slowly moving to your throat where he held you in place, his tongue slipping between your lips. You moaned at the taste of his spit, hips bucking in to Tess’, her throbbing clit pressing against your own.

“God fucking damn.” You heard her groan, feeling her arousal dripping down your own thighs. You reached towards her, free hand finding her chest, pinching and twisting her nipple. You guided her chest closer to yours, pulling away from Joel’s mouth to meet hers. Tess kissed you hungrily, with a passion you were sure only a woman could ever carry.

Her nipples pressed into yours, brushing against one another as she fucked you with her cunt, up and down, the wanton noises of your wet slick filling the air. Your pussy was desperate to clench around something, clit tingling at the feeling of her friction. She shoved her tongue down your throat, sweaty body melding to yours, as she grunted and groaned into your throat.

You felt Tess shake with her own orgasm, grunting out your name as she pulled away from your mouth and grabbed the headboard, slowly rolling her hips into your own, staring at your connected pussies, watching the strings of cum tie her folds to your own. Milly white and dripping, she watched her folds fall open as she dragged them down your throbbing clit, moaning out at the sight.

She looked at Joel. “You want to make her cum, or me?”

“Why not both?” The smirk was evident in his voice. You moaned out in annoyance when she got off of you, annoyed at the lack of contact on your clit.

“Don’t worry, angel.” Joel murmured, nibbling at your ear lobe. “She’s gonna make you cum real nice. Then your real daddy is gonna fuck you nice and dumb.”

“Oh.” You moaned out softly at his words, tangling your hand in his curls. “Yes sir.” You murmured softly, and Joel let out a throaty chuckle, his lips attaching to your neck.

As your eyes fluttered close at the feeling of Joel sucking on your skin, your felt your legs being pushed up, and you were soon met with the feeling of Tess’ lips wrapping around your sensitive bud. She dipped her fingers into your soaked pussy, tasting her own cum and your arousal heavy on her tongue.

“You’re a fucking bastard for keeping this pussy away from me for so long, Miller. She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tried.” She continued licking at your clit, eyes slowly dragging to meet yours, now half open and heavy with arousal. “Ain’tcha, baby? So fucking sweet. Here, have a taste.” She dragged her fingers from your folds, reaching up towards your lips until you were sucking on them.

You moaned, her cum sweet and salty in your mouth. You continued sucking on them, slowly looking at Joel with a flicker of playfulness sparkling in your eyes. You treated her two digits like a cock, bobbing slowly, eyes never leaving your boyfriends. You finally pulled away with a pop, and Joel groaned out.

“Enough.” He growled, standing up and shoving his jeans down. His cock sprung out, and he pressed his tip against your lips. “Suck. Now.” He demanded.

You whined out as Tess removed her lips from your clit, instead opting to tease your folds, her tongue shoving deep inside of you. You leaned forward towards Joel’s dick, wrapping your lips around it as he grabbed your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours. His free hand reached down, gently rubbing the side of your head.

“That’s it. Suck this cock off, babydoll. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me.” His hips stuttered against you as you took him inch by inch, his tip reaching the back of your throat. You gagged softly, pulling ever so softly away, before beginning to bob up and down, your tongue swirling against the veined underside of his length.

Between your legs, Tess was slurping up your wetness, and when her lips attached to your clit again, you knew your orgasm was soon approaching. How you had lasted for so long was beyond you, you had no clue. You shivered against her pretty face, hips bucking as she returned to fingering you. That, mixed with the feeling of her lips on your clit, did your head in.

You cried out against Joel’s cock, which twitched in your mouth at the sound of your pleasure, your climax hitting you like a double decker bus. It felt so good, in fact, tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes.

You tried to focus on his cock, but you only got sloppier, tongue wild against his dick as you bucked your hips and clenched around her fingers, panting like a bitch in heat at the feeling of your orgasm.

“Get away from her, Joel.”

He grunted in annoyance, nonetheless obeying. Tess laid down on the bed, wiping her shining mouth off with the back of her hand, and patted her lap. “Sit.” She ordered you. Crawling over, you sat on her lap, your back pressed against her chest. “Joel, fuck her.”

A smirk spread across his face, and he positioned himself between your legs, pushing into you in one swift motion, right to the hilt. You moaned out. Tess’ hand crept to your neck, and as she grabbed it, she tilted your head back.

“Open your mouth, baby. Want you to taste yourself.” You leaned your head back against her shoulder, opening your mouth. Tess spit on to your tongue, the taste of your mixed cum and her spit sliding down your throat. You moaned at the flavor.

Joel filled you and stretched you good. He always had. It was like his cock was built specifically for your pussy.

“So fuckin’ good, angel.” He mumbled, his hands dragging up and down your sides. Joel’s thrusts were sloppy, and you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.

“We promised her two orgasms, Texas.” Tess purred. “So you better not cum fast.”

He panted out in annoyance, cheeks reddening as his arousal climbed and clawed up his body, his throat growing raw with desire. Joel’s palms dug into your hips, where he held you down in place against the mattress.

You could feel Tess’ wet cunt against your ass, and slowly her hands began to massage into your skin, until she reached your pussy once more.

“That pretty little clit is just begging for attention, isn’t it?” She whispered in your ear, biting down on your skin. “Should I oblige her?”

“Yes.” You begged.

Her hand came smacking down against your pussy, the sudden feeling causing you to jolt. “Yes what?” She asked lowly.

“Yes daddy.”

Joel groaned at the sound, the tip of his cock pressing against that spot each time he thrust. You weren’t sure how long you would last if he continued his thrusts, especially with Tess’ fingers exploring your pussy.

“That’s a good, good girl.” She began rubbing slow, deep circles against your clit, her hand still tight around your throat. “You really are such a sweet thing.”

You breathed out a jumble of syllables in response, feeling Joel’s fingers gently work at your nipples.

“My sweet thing.” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered open to look at him. Your eyes met, and a shared smile spread across your faces. Joel reached down, gently pressing his palm to your cheek. A shared moment of intimacy in an otherwise heinous, ungodly, sexually depraved scene. Your hand gently wrapped itself around the back of his, pressing him closer to your skin.

“So sweet.” Tess mumbled dryly, sarcastically, and you felt her mouth connect against your neck. You moaned out, and she grinned. “Just a dumb little fuck toy at the end of the day, aren’t you?”

You nodded, legs parting even further as your second orgasm loomed. Joel’s cock twitched inside you, and he leaned forward until he was pressed against you, his face resting in the crook of your neck.

“I-I’m gonna cum again.” You whined, Tess’ skillful fingers still working your clit.

“What about you, Texas?” Tess asked, her lips still working the skin of your neck.

“Please.” He growled through gritted teeth.

“Fine.” She finally gave permission, albeit rather dismissively.

Joel buried himself as deep as he could inside of you, spilling his seed with a loud growl, teeth clenching down on to your shoulder as you shared your orgasm. Waves of pleasure rolled over you, and you wrapped your arms around Joel, holding on to him as tightly as you could. Your belly clenched, clit growing sensitive as Tess carried you through your high, her fingers still rubbing up and down your sensitive nub.

Joel slowly pulled away, but Tess kept rubbing.

“Please.” You whimpered, more tears pooling in your eyes. “Too sensitive.” You tried to push her hand away, but Joel grabbed ahold of your wrist, planting a kiss to your forehead.

“Let her, babydoll. Let her use that pussy.” He whispered. As your over-sensitive clit was toyed with, Joel leaned forward, forehead resting on yours.

You whined breathlessly at that raw, burning feeling which cascaded through you, mixed with the coveted feeling of pleasure as Tess rubbed. Joel’s nose brushed into yours, his eyes boring in to your own.

“That’s my babydoll. Taking it so good. You’re such a good girl for me.” He whispered, gently pressing a series of mini-kisses into your mouth. “For us.” He corrected himself, which Tess moaned in agreement too.

“Thank you.” You moaned out earnestly, kissing him once more. You felt your belly tightening once more.

“Third one’s always the easiest.” Tess snickered, rubbing your clit between her index and thumb. “‘Specially when you’re just a pretty little fuck thing.”

Joel stared into your eyes, a grin gleaming over his lips, as your third and final orgasm washed over you. As you came, his name chanted from your mouth, and you collapsed into Tess’ chest, bodies sweaty and hot.

Joel pulled you in to his arms, cradling you to his chest as Tess threw on her shirt. She grinned at the both of you.

“Pretty cute together, y’know.” She admitted, running a hand through her hair. “Was this a good birthday?”

You let out a soft laugh, slowly coming to your senses as you nodded. “The best one I’ve ever had.”

Tess mirrored your own laugh, and you watched her fingers as she buckled her belt. “Let’s do it again sometime?”

As Joel kissed your neck, you smiled at her. “We can pretend my birthday is next week?”

The three of you shared a knowing look, and each of you knew what you had gotten yourself in to for the coming days, weeks, months- however long you possibly could. A pit of sexual desire and craving that would probably never be satiated, but none of you really cared.

All you knew is that the three of you had always made a great team, and you know what they say- three’s a party.

“Deal.”

[kykyonthemoon]

Blue Ribbon

Distracted from his work by you, he decided to use your special blue ribbon for another purpose.

ಇ. Zayne x Female Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags: fluff, established relationship, MC being a baby, tied hands, soft bite

ಇ. Word count: ~1k4

ಇ. Requested by Ann.

ಇ. Masterlist

It initially started out as a date between you and Zayne.

You had planned ahead of time, opted for a light spring outfit, and wore a long blue ribbon in your hair with two tiny snowflake-shaped charms at both ends. You decided on it because it reminded you of Zayne.

You arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes before the scheduled date. Zayne was yet to leave his office. Yvonne informed you about an important meeting that Dr. Zayne needed to attend. You sat and waited outside his office for a while. Then, as if he knew you had arrived, he opened the door and welcomed you inside.

"Would that bother your work?" You inquired, and Zayne shook his head.

"Not a problem. The meeting has ended. There are only a few more things I need to take care of. Is it alright if you wait a little longer?"

You nodded. The office door closed behind him. For nearly the next hour, you obediently waited in the room. Feeling bored, you took out your phone to play with, wandered about the room, or sipped some tea. Zayne was still working intently on the computer as if you were not present. Sometimes, you could not help but feel a little sorry for yourself.

He failed to even glance at you, let alone praise you on how gentle your makeup was that day. Despite the fact that you were fully aware of Zayne's work ethic and the significance of his work, that afternoon was intended to be for you rather than the computer. The main reason you disagreed with it was that he lately had to work hard for several days in a row. You made him commit to spend time with you that afternoon. However, something unexpected occurred, causing his shift to be prolonged.

You felt both saddened and disappointed. You would sometimes approach him and poke him, as if to remind him that you still existed and that he needed to interact with you, even if only for a few minutes. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, his hands raced on the keyboard, and he spoke:

“Don't mess around. I'm almost done.”

Hearing that, you sighed again. When he stated he was almost done, it meant that his session lasted for nearly another hour. It was no longer dusk. You lamented your plan to go for an afternoon walk around Linkon City. But seeing him as a workaholic upset you so much. Finally, you decided that you would carry out your "scheme".

You got between him and the monitor. At first, you just stood there obstructing his view. Zayne gently drew you out of there  when you took the opportunity to take his hand and sat on his lap. Zayne seemed astonished, but his intense concentration prevented him from saying anything further to you. He let you sit on his lap, arms wrapped around you, and resumed typing.

Anger swelled in your heart. Even though you had no idea how urgent his business was, you did not appreciate being left out on your own date. He made a promise to spend the afternoon with you, and if there was an emergency, he would certainly let you know and reschedule the date rather than keep you waiting like this. Apparently, he just loved to work overtime.

In Zayne's lap, your body started to move. You deliberately turned around to wrap both arms around Zayne's neck. Your whisper found its way to his ear:

“Doctor Zayne, you promised to spend the afternoon with me. But you don't pay attention to me even just for a minute."

"Be still." Zayne's voice remained courteous and full of patience. "I still have another urgent meeting—"

"No!" You interrupted him. “Your shift ended a few hours ago.”

You felt Zayne's breath on your forehead as he replied: "Good girl. Please wait a bit longer."

But you chose not to be good. You gave him a pout before pressing your body close to his chest. You seized him firmly and kept urging:

“Take a break! Take a break! Doctor Zayne!”

Zayne was literally an iceberg. He was unmoved by your whining. You grew so helpless that you nibbled hard on his ear.

“Hmmph!”

Perhaps that was Zayne's limit. His expression stiffened. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you off his lap. His other hand swiftly removed the blue ribbon from your head, forcing your already tidy hair to fall down.

You blinked with astonishment. You could only stand there and watch Zayne knot both of your hands with that ribbon. The knot was so tight that your wrists could not move at all. Zayne rose up, brought you down in his chair, and frowned.

"Stay there. I'm heading to the meeting hall and will be back later."

After finishing his speech, he picked up a file on the table and quickly walked out. After the door was closed, you sat still in disbelief of what had just transpired. It appeared like he had bound your hands using a surgeon's knot, which is widely used in surgery. This sort of knot required a lot of work to remove. You moved your hands around, just to make those minimal snowflake charms swing as if they were mocking you that Zayne had actually used his Evol to keep you in place.

You were speechless that Zayne would do that only to stop you from disturbing him. You were alone in his office, stunned and bitter. Perhaps you went too far when you bit him. You should have been more reasonable and waited for him to finish his work. You had waited for him longer than this before. Had you upset him? You were torn between sulking at him and apologizing first.

Zayne returned about a half hour later to undo the knot for you. He took you out to supper and then returned to your apartment. Throughout the ride, you spoke nothing to Zayne but a few quick responses as necessary. You still were not sure how to adequately express how you felt for him. What if he got mad and was ready to tie you up again?

But you were not expecting Zayne to grasp your hands as soon as you arrived home. He took a close look and massaged your wrists.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

He asked. You withdrew your hands again and turned away.

"No."

He could tell you were sulking by the tone of your speech. He pulled you back and embraced you from behind. It was his turn to explain:

"I'm really sorry. Today's work was so urgent that I could not postpone it until tomorrow. On another note, you may do whatever you want when it's just the two of us; but at work, it's not a smart idea. Since, if you continue to be naughty like that, I would…”

“What would you do, Doctor Zayne?” You were curious, and got the urge to tease him even more.

“I would be too distracted.”

"Alright. I'm sorry, too..." You smiled and spoke sweetly, yet there was a hint of huff in your voice. "But you didn't need to tie me up like that."

You struggled like a worm in his embrace. Zayne easily held you tightly with just one arm, the other hand stroked your hair.

"Alright. It is my fault. I should not have tied you up and left you at the office. I will compensate for you, okay?"

You remained silent while waiting for him to offer a good proposal.

"My entire day off tomorrow is dedicated to you."

"Hmm." You seemed less than satisfied. You turned around and gazed into Zayne's eyes. "I still want one more thing."

Zayne grinned, "Sure."

"You don't know what I'm going to ask for, and you've already agreed? Once you've said it, you can't take it back!"

He patted your head and reaffirmed: "I won't take it back."

You smiled as if you were plotting something, then pulled out your blue ribbon and lifted it in front of Zayne. It was time for him to feel the thrill of being tied with his own surgeon's knot. You requested:

"Show me how to tie that knot!" 

[whoreforjisung]

Pervy neighbor Jisung one-shot ✨

-Might continue the story in multiple parts if people are interested! I still have many ideas when it comes to pervy jisung

-Content / tags / warnings: smut / non-idol au / perv!jisung pining for new neighbor reader / masturbation (m,f) / ji is a little bit of an asshole / non-consensual pictures / one use of “noona” / drug and alcohol consumption / brief mentions of Felix, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin

-Names are used as faceclaims only, and do not reflect the actions and personalities of real people

-Word Count: 6.2k

-I am very new to tumblr, and this is my very first time writing anything like this, so it is not proof-read or edited. Constructive criticism welcome!

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

As a full-time freelance artist, you luckily had the liberty to pack up your cherished belongings and move to wherever you desired whenever you liked. That’s how you ended up landing yourself in Seoul at the ripe age of 24. It might sound silly, but you had a lifelong dream of living in a cozy apartment with a decent-sized balcony area. When a listing popped up during an impromptu trip to Korea, in Seoul nonetheless, for a manageable price, you immediately jumped on it. It was game over as soon as you visited and saw the beautiful balcony with a wrought-iron spiral staircase. After reluctantly returning home, it was hard to contain your excitement in the weeks leading up to your move. You were already eagerly selecting furniture to buy, as well as decorations, and brainstorming ideas on how to use the space as soon as you finalized the lease.

As you finally pulled up to the new apartment, you couldn’t contain the wide smile that crept across your face as you shielded your eyes from the sun, admiring your spacious balcony. Just the thought of being able to curl up at dusk with that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages on the hammock chair you purchased for it, had you teeming with excitement. It kept you in a positive spirit as you lugged boxes containing your possessions one by one up the stairs and into your new home. That was, until you accidentally dropped the large framed painting you were attempting to transport, sending it tumbling down the stairs leaving hundreds of glass shards in its wake. The sudden noise startling your cat, Newt, from his peaceful slumber in his carrier. He reacted with a hiss and a few agitated meows.

“Would it kill you to keep it down? Some of us are trying to WORK here! FUCK!” You look up from your kneeled position on the stairs as you’re scrambling to pick up the glass shards, and your eyes meet a young man with a scowl on his face, leaning over the balcony opposite to yours. He has a pair of headphones dangling around his neck and is clutching a can of beer, fingernails adorned with black nail polish. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful. It won’t happen again!” You replied as you continued picking up the pieces. “Whatever. Can you do something about your hairball? It’s making my damn ears bleed.” He angrily snapped in response, pointing towards Newt’s carrier. You could tolerate the first comment, but who did he think he was to so directly insult your pet like that? “Just because I caused a minor commotion doesn’t give you the right to be so rude to a complete stranger. Since I’m no longer disrupting you, Why don’t you close the window, remove the stick up your ass, and get back to your oh-so-important work while I quietly move the rest of my boxes into my house. Sound good?” He didn’t seem to have a response for you, instead opting to toss back the remainder of his drink, crushing the can and tossing it directly towards your feet before shutting the window. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your dustpan from the box labeled “cleaning supplies” and swept up the rest of your mess (along with “mystery jerk neighbor’s” added trash) before moving the final few boxes, as well as the cat carrier inside.

You were so grateful the place came furnished, as you promptly slumped down on the green velvet couch, allowing yourself to take a quick breather before taking Newt out of the carrier, letting him explore while you unpacked his necessities and began assembling the cat tree. By the time sunset began to roll around, you had made a decent amount of progress unpacking and building a good amount of your living room and kitchen furniture, including your hammock chair for the balcony. After brewing yourself a cup of tea and grabbing the book you intended to read, you finally made your way to your new outdoor relaxation sanctuary.

After situating yourself in the chair, draping a thin blanket over your legs, and taking a sip of warm green tea, you let out a content sigh as you finally opened your novel, ready to immerse yourself into the story for the next hour or so. You made it through exactly 2 1/2 chapters before “mystery jerk neighbor” made his second appearance. This time, followed by a small white puppy and the unmistakable smell of weed. Now, you normally wouldn’t consider yourself to be the petty type, but his disrespect towards you earlier prompted you to throw some back his way in retaliation. When he took a long drag and proceeded to start coughing up a lung, you shouted “Keep it down would ya? Some of us are trying to READ here!” Mirroring his first words to you. “Oh that’s realll original” he replied with a pained rasp between coughs. Rolling your eyes, you redirected your attention back to your book, assuming that would be the end of the distraction.

A small handful of pages later, a loud “YOOOO FELIX” pierces through the silence as he starts a phone call. Placing a bookmark to save your spot, you close the book and set it on your small side table. After a few minutes you return , donning your noise cancelling headphones. You’d be damned if you were going to let him ruin your highly anticipated reading time after a long and exhausting day. A peaceful 10 minutes later, he retreats back into his own apartment- much to your delight. However, your joy is short-lived as he soon returns with an acoustic guitar slung across his torso and takes a seat. Unfortunately, you quickly realize his strumming penetrates through your headphones. So much for noise-cancelling. Completely losing your focus and not wanting to engage with him any further, you decide it’s time to head inside and get yourself ready for bed. After a much-needed shower to rinse off the sweat and dust that had accumulated on your body throughout the day, you continue your nightly routine. Slipping on a pair of panties and one of your many oversized sleep shirts, you head to the kitchen to finish your cup of tea while absentmindedly scrolling on tiktok. After setting your mug in the sink and brushing your teeth in the bathroom, you finally turn into bed and listen to Newt’s content purrs as he cuddles up to you, both of you quickly drifting off to sleep.

You curse yourself for setting your alarm so early as you’re jolted awake by the incessant, absurdly high-pitched beeping at 8:00 AM. You did have a specific reason for wanting to wake up so early though, as you remember your plans and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed. Your first task of the day was grocery shopping, so after brushing your teeth and twisting your hair up into a claw clip, you threw on a pair of sweatpants with a black cropped hoodie and began your walk to the nearest market.

Arriving after about fifteen minutes, you began working through your ingredients list. You stopped at an herb stall with a middle-aged woman behind the booth. One of your many plans for your balcony space was to install a fresh herb garden, so you engaged in small talk with the seller as you selected various herbs to purchase. “Do you sell cat grass?” You asked. Suddenly, a young man with blond hair springs up from under the counter. “You won’t find any here at the market, but I can show you where to get some!” You’re taken aback by the deep voice that comes out of him, as well as his strangely friendly offer. Sensing your apprehension, the woman adds “Oh don’t worry dear, you can trust him! Yongbok here is our designated neighborhood helper.” She smiles at him as she pats his back. “Oh uhh okay. I have a few more things to grab here first, if that’s okay?” You reply, setting your items down for him to ring up. A few minutes later, you finished picking up the rest of the items on your list and returned to the stall to let him know you were ready. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes Auntie!” He called back to the woman as the two of you walked away.

You found it surprising how talkative he was. He told you his name was Felix, he grew up in Australia, but moved to Korea when he was seventeen, and he loves cooking, baking, and gaming. Even though you just met him, you were happy you shared some of the same interests, and honestly a little part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him. The short walk led you to a large apartment complex. Felix told you his friend, Minho, is a huge cat-lover who grows his own cat grass, so you figured this is where he lived. It seemed like he spent a lot of time at Minho’s place, as the security guard immediately buzzed you both in as soon as he saw him, greeting him with a wave.

Felix knocked on the door as you arrived at, presumably, his friend’s unit. You could hear multiple voices from outside the door, and began to feel a little bit anxious. The door opened to reveal quite possibly the buffest man you have ever seen in person before. He quickly pulled your new acquaintance into a bear hug, shouting “FELIX IS HEREEE- and who’s this?” He added as he broke away, noticing you. You shyly introduced yourself to him, still standing in the doorway before Felix enters, pulling you both in. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people present, you keep your gaze trained on the floor as he ushers you into the kitchen. “Hey Minho! This is the girl I texted you about. You know- the cat grass” He explained as he gestures toward you.

You pry your gaze from the floor to see an -admittedly, beautiful man holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says “world’s best Mom” on it in hot pink lettering. As you struggle to stifle a giggle, he quickly explains that he received it as a gift from his friend Seungmin. Since he can’t leave the kitchen while he’s cooking, he instructs Felix to take you to his study, where he has prepared a small pot for you to take home. As you enter the study, you notice a sleeping figure on the black leather couch in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t until you quietly retrieved the pot, turning to exit the room, that you recognized the person sleeping. He was your mysterious jerk neighbor! You had to admit though, as much as your very limited interactions with him pissed you off, he looked kinda cute peacefully sleeping like that- with his dark, curly hair cascading over the side of his face, cheeks all puffed out and lips formed into a devastating little pout. It was hard to believe this was the same man as the asshole that lived across from you. Once you realized you were staring at him, you shook your thoughts away and silently made your way back into the living room. Thanking Minho and bidding farewell to everyone else, you and Felix began your trek back to the market.

Arriving back home shortly after dropping Felix off and giving him your socials, you got to work putting away your groceries and began to tackle the daunting task of unpacking and organizing your belongings. In order to not burn yourself out, you made sure to take breaks every few hours. During your breaks you would work on artwork, watch an episode of the kdrama you were currently immersed in, play with Newt, crochet, and stretch- even doing a little bit of yoga in the evening.

After you were satisfied with the progress you made for the day, you booted up your computer and logged on to Miroh- a new labyrinth MMORPG you had found yourself getting absolutely sucked into lately. You didn’t find the time to game as often as you would have liked to, but when you did, you preferred to set aside a good four hours or so in order to ensure you’d make a decent amount of progress with every session. After several failed attempts to demolish the octo-cyclops boss of the S-Class dungeon- in order to acquire its exclusive armor set, you were about to call it quits for the night when a random player requested to join your party. You accepted the request from _doolsetnet, sending a gratitude emote as you entered the dungeon for the umpteenth time that night, this time with another player at your assistance.

Your morale was high as you successfully cleared the second stage almost flawlessly, mentally preparing for the third and final stage. It started off well, but as the boss’s rage intensified, so did it’s attack speed. You both took a few good hits, your health bar depleting rapidly. Your helper still had a good three-quarters of their health to spare, and enough mana to cast one spell. The boss only had about a quarter left on its health bar- two more good hits and it would go down. You unmuted your mic to request a heal from your partner, which they promptly offered. With your health bar restored to half-full, and your mana charged for two attacks, you were finally able to hear the sweet, sweet cries of defeat as you slayed the beast. You jumped out of your chair, raising your fists in the air and letting out a loud “FUCK YESSS! TAKE THAT YOU ONE-EYED SLIMY CUNT” as the game rewarded you with the gorgeous mother-of-pearl armor set you’ve been ogling for months- complete with an iridescent helmet showcasing the monster’s eye. You sent user _doolsetnet a thank you message, and attached a gift containing a couple hundred gold along with a few of the rare armor dyes you had extras of. They responded by shooting you a friend request, which you accepted, and a rare weapon skin you also had your eye on. After logging off for the night, you hopped in the shower, brushed your teeth, crawled into bed with Newt in your arms, and fell asleep.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+* 🐿️

The day you moved in was a rough one for Han Jisung. All morning he worked tirelessly, trying to perfect the song he was commissioned to produce for a high-profile client. Each time he finished editing and emailing the file, he was always met with a problem. The beat overpowers the vocals, the guitar is too quiet, the bpm is too fast, too slow- it was impossible to please them with this song, and he was going to absolutely lose it. As a perfectionist, he couldn’t let it go until both him, and the client, were both one-hundred percent satisfied. He was running on about six hours of sleep in the past three days, with a concerning lack of food and over-dependence on coffee, energy drinks, and beer. He could barely rip his focus away from the project long enough to shower and make sure his beloved puppy, Bbama, was still well taken care of.

When the blaring hisses and sharp beeps of the moving trucks breached through the music he was working on, he nearly screamed out the window at them to shut the fuck up, but he still had self control. Honestly, it was his fault for procrastinating even though he knew someone would be moving in across from him today. He tried to drown out the noise for the next hour, and when the trucks pulled out, his focus finally pulled in again. He locked in- diligently toiling away at the project, until two hours later, he had the latest revised version complete. Making sure he took all of his client’s requests into account, he submitted the file and began the waiting game. Anxiously pacing around his apartment and biting his nails for another hour, he received an email notification. He sprinted to his computer, not even bothering to take a seat as his hand hovered over the mouse for a few seconds in anticipation. He slid the cursor over the most recent email in his inbox, squeezing his eyes shut and chanting a quiet “please, please, please..” he clicked the mouse and slowly opened his eyes, scanning the results. “Mr. Han, We always appreciate your hard work, and are nearly content with the song. There are just a few small tweaks we would like to- “MOTHERFUCKER” he threw himself onto his couch and muffled an anguished scream with his pillow. He nearly started bawling due to the overwhelming frustration and crippling exhaustion.

The deadline was tomorrow, and he would have to rework the godforsaken song for the sixteenth and last time. He had to make his next submission perfect- or risk losing one of his most important clients. He peeled himself off the couch, sauntered over to his fridge to grab yet another can of beer, returned to his desk, took a few deep breaths, and got to work. There was one specific part of the song that needed reworked. He began playing the same fifteen seconds repeatedly, closer and closer to losing his sanity as he just could not pick out what was wrong with it. Another ten times- still couldn’t place it. Twenty more times, and then he caught it- at the very end of the segment. His full focus on the next loop, he cranked the volume and listened intently, not even daring to breathe in fear of it disrupting his flow. The last five seconds coming up- this was it.

A loud crash broke his focus, followed by the shrieking howls of an agitated cat. That was his last straw. He slammed his left fist down on his desk, still clutching his beer can in his right hand. Shooting out of his chair he flung open the sliding door and stormed to the edge of his balcony. He started yelling before even thinking, just letting all of his pent-up rage out on whoever his new neighbor was. Once the red-hot fury died down, and he actually saw the unfortunate victim of his outburst, he retreated in embarrassment. She was a girl who looked to be in her early to mid twenties, around the same age as him. Kinda cute too, and he threw his fucking beer can at her! God, what the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to crawl into the fetal position and just disappear forever. Unfortunately for him, though, he still had the grueling obligation of completing his wretched assignment. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and got to work once more.

A painstaking six hours later, he checked over the email again, to refer to his clients requirements. Making damn sure he remembered EVERYTHING this time, he went through a mental checklist. He listened to the full song one more time, paying close attention to the fifteen second segment he had reworked dozens of times. This time, he had swapped the guitar for a bassy synth to create a break at the end of the pre-chorus, and he honestly felt satisfied with the outcome. He might’ve entered a state of delirium after twenty-four restless, stress filled hours, and slipped into a rather cocky mindset. He was happy with the song at last, and the client would be content with it too. Honestly, they were lucky to have a producer like him working with them. He was a musical genius. After confidently re-submitting the file for the final time, he rolled himself a much-deserved joint. He gave little Bbama all the belly rubs and smooches he had missed the last few days as he made his way to the balcony for a stress-relieving smoke.

Jisung took a few deep drags, feeling increasingly calm with every exhale, until his breath caught in his throat upon noticing you lounging on your balcony straight across from him- seemingly deeply invested in a book. The smoke in his throat burned, launching him into a painful coughing fit. He silently prayed that you wouldn’t notice, and mentally cursed himself when you did- repeating his same harsh words to you earlier, absolutely dripping with sass. He threw back a half-assed reply, wishing he could’ve put more effort into it, and was rewarded with a nonchalant eye-roll. Oh, it was game-over for him now. One thing Jisung could never control himself around, was a person who simultaneously gave off the vibes of a dom, while exuding just the perfect amount of brattiness- just enough for him to want to mercilessly fuck the attitude out of.

He decided right then and there to “test your limits”- so to speak. He dialed up his buddy Felix, making sure to greet him as loudly and obnoxiously as he could possibly muster. Only to be met with disappointment, as you just sighed and closed your book, withdrawing back into your living space. Maybe he jumped the gun- and assumed too much too soon? Oh well, he’d have plenty more chances to get a rise out of you, and began plotting his next move as he continued his conversation with Felix. When you returned wearing headphones, and sat back down to resume your book- completely ignoring him, he immediately felt his dick tightening against his pants, begging to be freed. He didn’t have you all wrong- quite the contrary. He had you just right, and the little bit of tantalizing cleavage your tank top revealed to him was the perfect tease, your breasts slightly squeezing together with every page you turned.

He attempted to mess with you a little more, even bringing out his guitar, in the hopes of disrupting your reading just enough to prompt an annoyed outburst. (And maybe even impressing you a little bit with his skills). When you once again retreated inside, and didn’t return, he figured you just went to bed this time. It was like all of his pent-up frustration throughout the week sent itself straight to his manhood. He was throbbing as he fell back on his couch, palming himself over his jeans. He had to use his imagination, having only his limited view of your cleavage to work with, but that wasn’t a problem for him.

You were straddling his lap on his couch, plush thighs squeezing either side of his as you slowly and tortuously ground yourself against his aching length. In this scenario, you had caught him sneaking a peek at you through the window and stormed over, angrily knocking on his door to confront him. You were yelling at him with your arms crossed, squeezing your tits together and giving him the perfect view. -He finally released himself from his denim prison, wrapping his hand around his thick, hard length, and letting out a sigh- When you noticed where he was staring, and looked down to see the prominent bulge in his pants, you forcefully pushed him down on the couch, climbing on top of him. Yanking the nape of his curly hair, you compelled him to look up at you, chastising him for being a dirty pervert. “You disgusting piece of shit- can’t even be scolded by a woman without getting yourself all hot and bothered.” You spat at him as he let out a whimper. “How pathetic” the way you breathlessly enunciated that word had him fisting his angry cock furiously, thighs twitching and breaths panting as he felt his chest tighten. He was so close already- probably due to his lack of jerking off for the past few days.

When you crept your hand up his chest and around his throat, harshly squeezing your fingers around it, he came. All over his hand, shirt, pants, couch, and even spilling a few drops onto his floor. He can’t even remember the last time he came this hard- it was probably one of the first times he ever masturbated. He didn’t even get to the best part in his scenario, the part where he takes over, flipping you onto your back and burying his face between your legs, eating you out like you’re his last meal while you’re whining and begging him to take you, as you release all over his fingers and face. He felt himself twitch, and looked down in disbelief to be met with yet another raging boner. God, the things you did to him, and you didn’t even know him, or his name. It just made the whole thing that much hotter. He’ll make sure you’ll find out soon, though, so the you in his fantasies can scream it for him.

After cleaning up his mess, and slipping into a clean pair of sweatpants, he made his way over to his fridge, and grabbed himself a cup of water. Chugging it down to soothe his dry throat, he glanced out the window- his eyes falling on you. You were wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, barely covering the curve of your ass, as you leaned over your kitchen counter. Sipping on a mug in one hand and scrolling on your phone in another, you were unknowingly giving him some quality material to work with. He made sure to engrain that image of you in his mind, taking note of every detail of your legs, including your tattoos, for next time.

The next morning, after getting a few hours of sleep and clearing his brain fog, he was mortified to say the least. He made himself out to be a complete asshole to his new (hot) neighbor, and immediately proceeded to ferociously pump himself dry to his imagination of said neighbor. Embarrassed was an understatement. He groaned as he got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he refilled Bbama’s food and water dishes, he decided he should apologize to you for his rude behavior.

A little while later, he found himself standing outside your door, preparing his fist to knock. As he heard your footsteps nearing increasingly closer, he panicked and made a beeline to the end of the hallway, tucking himself around the corner. He caught his breath, noticing you exiting your unit and heading down the stairs. He was startled by his phone buzzing, pulling it out of his pocket to read a text from Minho. “Get your ass over here NOW. I know you haven’t eaten well in days and I’m preparing some bulgogi.” He honestly didn’t even notice just how hungry he was, being too distracted by this work, and- well, you, to care. He pulled himself up and made his way over to Minho’s.

He immediately flopped down on the couch in the study after greeting his friends. They knew him- and his current work dilemma, well enough to understand he didn’t have the energy for socializing until he got a good rest, so that’s exactly what he proceeded to do. Seungmin kicked open the door when their meal was ready, jolting Jisung awake. He drug his feet to the kitchen, joining Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Suengmin at the table and taking his seat. While quite literally stuffing his mouth, he listened to his friends converse and argue, adding in a few comments muffled by the food stored in his cheeks. His interest piqued when Changbin mentioned the girl that came by, turning to Minho and sending him a puzzled look. Since when does Minho invite girls over? His older friend noticed his expression, and responded by explaining that Felix had brought her over because she was on the hunt for cat grass. “I can’t deny though, she was just my type. I’ll have to ask Felix if he got her number.” Hyunjin piped up, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungmin shot him a side-eye, pinching his arm and causing the other to yelp while chastising him for his fuckboy attitude. Jisung on the other hand, was intrigued- asking Hyunjin to describe her appearance, practically begging, honestly. Who could blame him? He was currently down bad- astronomically, even. After listening to Hyunjin’s description, agreeing that she did, in fact, seem very attractive, he rewarded his friend with a description of the goddess that had just moved in next door to him. Hyunjin was practically drooling as he described her perky tits and thick, tattoo-adorned thighs in great detail, prompting Seungmin to manually shut his jaw. “No more horny talk over the meal I slaved away at all day, to prepare for you ungrateful degenerates!” Minho shouted, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. After finishing the perfectly-cooked bulgogi and cleaning up after themselves, Jisung walked home, with Hyunjin in tow, begging him to let him crash at his place. Hyunjin lived only a block away from him, so he knew the only reason was so his friend could get a look at you. Cursing himself for his overly-enthusiastic recounting of your gorgeous body- only having seen the lower half so far, he pushed Hyunjin towards the opposite end of the fork dividing the paths between both of their residences.

When he returned home, he cracked open a can of beer, bringing it to his lips as he looked out his window, once again catching a glimpse of you. He quite literally spit out the liquid he was holding in his mouth, as his gaze was met with your ass pointed directly towards him, your back arched towards the floor, and arms outstretched while you contorted your body into what seemed to be a yoga pose. He silently praised whatever god might exist for you leaving your curtains open, and wearing the shortest compression shorts, as he stared- dumbfounded. He could literally see the outline of your pussy, leaving barely anything to his imagination. He wasn’t proud of it at all, but simply his memory would not suffice. He just had to snap a pic. He laid down on his bed as he pulled down the waistband of his joggers. Staring at his new favorite picture,

He began to slowly stroke himself as his imagination ran wild.

This time, you were doing yoga on your balcony when you caught him staring. You didn’t seem mad, quite the opposite, however, as he watched you sit down and part your legs, not breaking eye contact as you shoved your fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking on them. He watched you leisurely trail your other hand down your chest, squeezing your right breast, and releasing a pretty moan muffled by your fingers as you grazed over your nipple. He wondered how your moans would really sound. Would they be as needy as he’s picturing them right now? He hoped he would get the chance to find out. He imagined you releasing your spit-covered hand from your mouth, placing it on your inner thigh and leaving wet trails as it inched further and further to your puffy cunt, obstructed by your tight compression shorts. Still not breaking eye contact with him, you slid the garment to the side, as well as the tiny red thong you wore underneath in his fantasy. Giving him a mouth-watering view of your dripping heat, you plunged two fingers in, gasping at the feeling of fullness. You closed your eyes as you slowly pumped in and out, letting the quietest whimpers grace his ears. You lifted your head and offered him a sexy smirk, beckoning him to “come here” with your two glistening fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting into it and resuming its position wrapped around his needy cock. The added lubrication allowed him to increase his pace- still careful not to go too fast and risk missing out on the best parts of his scenario again.

He started to let out a few breathy whines as he imagined himself knocking on your door. You answered quickly, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in before closing the door, and leading him to your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes somewhere along the way, and you sat on the edge of your bed, instructing him to kneel on the floor between your thighs. He trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses up your inner thighs as you tangled your hand in his curls. He broke away to remove your shorts and thong, giving him a clear view of your arousal. He caught a whiff of your sweet scent, flattening his tongue and slowly lapping up towards your clit. You responded by pulling on his hair and grinding yourself against his face, causing him to release a deep moan, the vibration had you shuttering against him. He slipped his ring finger in, the cold metal of his ring contrasting with the warmth of your walls caused your eyes to roll back. You let out a loud moan as his middle finger joined the other inside you, relishing in the juxtaposition of slight pain and pleasure, as he stretched you out. You used his fingers to fuck yourself towards him, allowing his undivided attention to focus on sucking and circling your clit. This had you absolutely reeling, crushing his head between your thighs and coming undone, rewarding him with the most filthy, sinful, screams as his face was coated with your sweet nectar. He looked up at you as he sensually plunged his fingers into his mouth, licking up your release, and groaning at the taste. Your eyes glistened as he stood up, looking down at you as you returned his gaze through your lashes. You lowered your focus to the tent in his sweatpants, taking in the perfect outline of his curvature as you parted your legs and begged- no, pleaded with him to fuck you. You promised you’d be good for him, make him feel good, let him use you. The incoherent mumbling faltered as he sandwiched himself between your legs, and pulled his waistband down- his hard, leaking dick slapping against your abdomen. He hoisted your legs over his shoulders, keeping a strong grip on them as he finally plunged himself deep into your soaked cunt. He allowed you to adjust yourself to the stretch, choking out a guttural groan and a “fuck.. noona!” (He has no idea how old you are, he just has a little bit of a fixation on the idea of you being slightly older than him. He’ll unpack that another time.) As he imagined feeling you clench around him- and he felt his cock twitch violently in his hand- he blew his load all over himself, feeling the warm liquid coating his fingers and abs.

Panting heavily, he still couldn’t look away from his phone in his grip, displaying the picture he took of you. He wanted -needed- to know what it was like to see you up close in the same position. After taking a few moments to collect himself, he walked past his window on the way to the fridge. Seeing you sitting in front of your computer, back tensed in what appeared to be frustration, he tried to maneuver his vision around you to get a peek at what you were working on. He figured you were an artist, as you had all kinds of equipment set up around your living room- canvases, easels, and a cart full of what appeared to be paintbrushes and paints. He wanted to see if you were working on a digital art piece, and nearly came in his pants when he finally caught a view of your computer, instantly recognizing the images on your screen. You weren’t working on art, you were playing Miroh- his current favorite MMORPG. He opened his phone camera and zoomed in to try to get a better view of the game. Adrenaline surged in his chest as he saw the familiar Octo-Cyclops he has beaten countless times. In fact, he helped many players through that dungeon in the Miroh discord server he was an active member in. This was his time to shine. He captured a picture of your screen, hoping to make out your username. Sure enough, it was legible.

He practically sprinted to his computer and logged into the game, quickly typing in your tag and requesting to join your party, which you immediately accepted. He got to work preparing his inventory and chuckled to himself when you sent him a cute emote to thank him in advance for helping. At the third stage of the boss fight, he was playing defensively- letting you take the brunt of most of the attacks while he conserved his mana for a healing spell. As he watched your health bar start to deplete, he was preparing to heal you when you unmuted to beg him for help in the sweetest voice. He smirked as he released the spell, effectively restoring your health and mana, allowing you to fire off your last two attacks, defeating the boss. He smiled to himself as he heard your sailor-mouthed victory chant. Browsing his inventory for his rarest extra weapon skin, he attached it to the friend request he sent you before logging off and heading to bed. He was overflowing with pride with himself for being able to send you a nice gesture, even if it was anonymously.

[bookofmirth]

What could happen to the Prison in acotar5?

As a preview, this post is going to be hella long. It focuses on things we learned primarily on acosf and hofas. It also discusses the Illyrians and the Valkyries, Pegasuses, the 8-pointed star, and the fallout from Avallen being restored by Bryce. 

The tl;dr is that I think that the Valkyries (and potentially some Illyrians) could serve as guardians for the Prison, along with being a neutral political force and army in Prythian, not aligned with a specific court but rather being a balance between them all. 

Before you proceed, be aware that I tend towards analysis of the current content of the books, not theorizing about what will happen in the future, so this may not read like theories that other people in the fandom come up with. A majority of this is facts from the books, with me tying things together to think about the implications.

Part one: what we know based on HOFAS

First, it's helpful to get some context for what we know (for sure) about the Prison:

It was the land of dusk (not a Court in the way Prythian currently has courts).

After the events with Fionn, Theia, Helena, Silene, and Pelias, the land was mostly abandoned.

When Silene returned from Midgard, she created the Prison in order to hide the Harp, using the monsters she put there to deter anyone from looking for it. Silene decided if this place was seen as cursed, then let it be cursed.

We also find out that Silene left her portion of Theia's light under the Prison, which Bryce then took.

There is also a large cache of firstlight remaining under the Prison.

When Bryce used Truthteller and Gwydion/the Starsword to heal Avallen, Pegasuses appeared again.

Avallen and the Prison are in "thin" spots in the universe that make it easy to travel from one planet to the other (fwiw, this idea is not unique to sjm. See: Stephen King.) These spots are identifiable by the mists that surround them.

These thin spots are also on the nexus of ley lines, where energy flows.

It stands to reason that when Bryce "unlocked" Avallen, the energy and magic that it now experiences will flow to other places along the ley lines, IE the Prison. It's also implied that the land keeping the power imprisoned is one of the reasons it grew sick.

Bryce's actions in hofas have implications for Prythian. While the above is related to the Prison, we also have:

Nesta now has possession of the Starsword/Gwydion

Azriel's reaction to Truthteller and the Starsword being together

The 8-pointed star (more on that later)

Part two: what we know based on ACOSF

So based on this information, we need to go back to acosf and look at what sjm left for us. 

The main thing to keep in mind is that Nesta found the Harp in the Prison, and that it was laying on an 8-pointed star. 

One of the main dangling threads from acosf - that we know to be canon, that is not a theory or supposition - is that the Illyrians and the Valkyries are going to continue training together. We know that Mor is interested in training with the Valkyries. From hofas, we know that Nesta is every bit as well trained now as she was in the months since acosf.

Now, there are a couple of partially-fulfilled statements from acosf that I think are relevant here, in addition to Valkyries and Illyrians continuing to train.

The first is the wish that Nesta made on the friendship bracelets. 

"I wish for us to have the courage to go out into the world when we are ready, but to always be able to find our way back to each other. No matter what." (chp 59)

We know that in the Blood Rite, the second half of that wish was fulfilled. The first half has not been fulfilled yet. That gives us very good reason to assume that the first half will be fulfilled.

All three of them, Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn, will go out into the world at some point in the future. 

There is another, much larger implication that was made in acosf:

Nesta smirked. “If we are to be Valkyries born again,” she said, “maybe we should combine the Illyrian and Valkyrie techniques.” She’d meant it in jest, but the words rumbled through the space, as if she’d spoken some great truth, something that made fate sit up. Azriel turned to them fully this time, eyes narrowed. Like those shadows had whispered something to him. A chill breathed down Nesta’s spine. Cassian stared into their faces. Like he beheld something he hadn’t seen there before. (chp 44)

And the later on:

Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. “Nothing can break me.” Cassian’s throat tightened, and even from across the ring, he could see Nesta’s eyes gleaming with pride and pain. Emerie said, “Nothing can break us.” The world seemed to pause at the words. As if it had been following one path and now branched off in another direction. In a hundred years, a thousand, this moment would still be etched in his mind. That he would tell his children, his grandchildren, Right then and there. That was when it all changed. Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved. (chp 60)

SJM used similar phrasing in the same book for which we know the consequences: 

Strike after strike, and Cassian could have sworn the world paused as she unleashed herself with the same intensity she brought to training.

This is when Nesta is Making the weapons, which we find out later is actually a significant moment, not just Cassian being hyperbolic about how great his mate is. Then, when Nesta is using the Mask and Harp to heal Feyre, the world also pauses. This phrasing is used when something important is happening - even if we don't know what the implications are, yet.

Given that we know for sure that the Illyrians and the Valkyries are going to continue training, and there are loose threads because we don't know the implications of fate/the world standing up at Nesta's, Emerie's, and Gwyn's statements and/or actions, there is a very, very good chance that the Valkyries will continue being a big part of acotar. 

My final point about the Valkyries is that in myth, they rode horses through the sky - not Pegasuses because those are from Greek myth, and Valkyries are Norse. But they fly through the sky on horses nonetheless. (This is literally the only piece of evidence I have coming from outside the books.) Pegasuses are connected to Avallen and likely the Prison. We know that Helion keeps some, but they are struggling to breed/thrive. (We also know that sjm loves to take what she wants from myth, so it’s not a stretch to think she’d shrug at the Greek/Norse distinction.)

All of this together tells me that the Valkyries have more story coming, and it is connected to the Illyrians'.

Part three: The 8-pointed star

A common thread between both series is the 8-pointed star. There are a few ways in which it is used:

Nesta and Cassian's bargain tattoo in acosf. They both had this tattoo on them - an Illyrian and a Valkyrie. 

Bryce also has the 8-pointed star on her chest that glows when she is near people who will aid her or who are part of the Starborn line. When she took the piece of Theia's light, it went into her star and powered her up.

The Harp was resting on an 8-pointed star in the Prison, where Silene left it.

In HOFAS, Bryce put Truthteller and Gwydion into the slots of an 8-pointed star in order to revive Avallen.

When training, Cassian teaches the Valkyries the 8-pointed star sequence. This is a series of moves that they make with a sword, and is an Illyrian technique. 

Cassian walked her through eight different cuts and blocks. Each was an individual move, he’d explained, and like the punches, they could be combined. (chp 38) “I’d thought today would be a good day to integrate the eight-pointed star, but if you’re already complaining, we can wait until next week.” (chp 44) Nesta lifted the sword and executed a perfect arcing slash. Her weight shifted to her legs just as she flipped the blade, leading with the hilt, and brought up her arm against an invisible blow. Another shift and the sword swept down, a brutal slash that would have sliced an opponent in half. Each slice was perfect. Like that eight-pointed star was stamped on her very heart. (chp 50)

And finally, at the end of HOFAS, Bryce gives Gwydion to Nesta and tells her to explore the 8-pointed star:

“I think that eight-pointed star was tattooed on you for a reason. Take that sword and go figure out why.”

Note that it’s not just a matter of the star, anymore. Both Cassian and Nesta were tattooed with it; Bryce used Gwydion and Truthteller to activate the star in Avallen. And now, Nesta is in possession of Gwydion with knowledge about the Prison and a connection to the star. There are elements coming together, and those elements are connected to both Illyrians AND Valkyries. 

My thinking is that the 8-pointed star is the symbol of the dusk land, the Starborn Princes in Midgard (Theia) and in Prythian, of the first and only High King. If that land is where the Valkyries will be reborn and where Starborn power is from, and we know it is the source of a huge cache of firstlight, then that star is a symbol of what has been lost - and what is about to be revived.

So now the question is - what part will the Valkyries and Illyrians play?

Part four: What might happen to the Prison?

To sum up the above, and adding on a couple of small points that don’t fit elsewhere:

We know that the Illyrians and Valkyries will continue training

We have very heavy-handed phrasing around the world/fate paying attention to the idea of the Valkyries being reborn and working with Illyrians.

We have the connection between Valkyries, Illyrians, and the 8-pointed star because it is also an Illyrian sword technique that is being taught to the Valkyries.

We know that the Prison is going to go through some changes akin to puberty.

In addition, we have Gwyn being allowed to write the Valkyries into the books she is researching. 

SJM has also said that Nesta’s story is going to continue.

Since we know that the Prison is going to change and there are these characters and groups poised for action - I haven’t even touched on Ramiel and the Illyrians being created by the Dagsteri, Azriel and his connection to Truthteller and Enalius, and his reaction to the TT/Gwydion, and will do that in a separate post - we can make some predictions about how that might look. If it’s going to make sense, sjm has to think beyond the magic system that she has… sort-of established, and past the involvement of individual characters. There are a few things to take into consideration with the Prison.

It is very likely that Pegasuses will return to the island as it is suffused with magic and energy again. 

There are also other, unforeseen magical consequences as the magic flows back into it, thanks to the ley lines being “unblocked” by Bryce. 

It may become easier for people/creatures to travel between worlds, given that it is a thin place that has been "unlocked". 

The Prison is still full of prisoners! They are monsters that Silene gathered to hide the Harp, but... does that mean they just get released? Get slaughtered? Do they now have access to the power of the island? What is going to happen with them? 

The High Lords cannot all be trusted to stay within their own courts, minding their own business. Beron is the most obvious example, as he has his eye on Spring while Tamlin is Suffering. 

If there were another court established, one that sits on a huge reserve of firstlight, that could be a huge point of contention amongst the courts. Even if the High Lords don’t want it for themselves, they wouldn’t want anyone else to have it on the chance that one of them would use it against the others. In acomaf, Rhys explains that the Prison is keyed to his blood and that he has jurisdiction of it; however:

“Do all the High Lords have access?” My words were so soft they were devoured by the dark. Even that thrumming power in my veins had vanished, burrowing somewhere in my bones. “No. The Prison is law unto itself; the island may be even an eighth court. But it falls under my jurisdiction, and my blood is keyed to the gates.” (chp 18)

We don’t know yet what that reserve of firstlight is going to mean for the island.

To me, it makes sense for us to have a more neutral third party come in. One who doesn’t have ties to a specific court, but could act in all of their interests. 

Enter: the newly reformed Valkyries. 

I have had a personal headcanon that the Valkyries, once fully established, could create another political/martial entity in Prythian that can help balance the power between all the courts, and provide support when needed. This is how they worked before, which Cassian talks about in acosf: 

“The Valkyries fought when even the bravest males would not. The Illyrians tried to forget that. I fought against males who were my superiors, arguing to help the Valkyries. They beat me senseless, chained me to a supply wagon, and left me there. When I came to, the battle was over, the Valkyries slain.”

Valkyries and Illyrians don’t have the best history, but given that Cassian tried to help them, and that they are working together now, this could be a way of righting a wrong. It could help to explain why fate/the world is taking note. 

The Valkyrie ethos makes sense for this sort of neutral position, too:

“A clan of female warriors from another territory. They were better fighters than the Illyrians, even. The Valkyrie name was just a title, though—they weren’t a race like the Illyrians. They hailed from every type of Fae, usually recruited from birth or early childhood. They had three stages of training: Novice, Blade, and finally Valkyrie. To become one was the highest honor in their land. Their territory is gone now, subsumed into others.”

An improved Valkyrie force, especially if they continue learning Illyrian techniques and recruiting from women across Prythian, could be a big factor in upcoming conflicts with Kochei or any other villain sjm comes up with. They would ensure that the firstlight would be used fairly, so that no court is advantaged or disadvantaged unfairly. It would continue the threads that sjm has left for us, while also giving us space to explore questions that have yet to be answered (such as Azriel’s connection to Truthteller and Enalius). While I think that Nesta would keep her home in the House of Wind, the Prison island would be a good place from which the Valkyries can work - both guarding the monsters that are there, and keeping the firstlight safe.

I believe that Nesta will be the most important character when it comes to reviving the island; while it is heavily implied that the island is already going to have access to its powers thanks to being impacted by Avallen's healing - it is likely already on its way to healing - Nesta with her connection to the 8-pointed star, the Harp, possession of Gwydion, and the Valkyries can help bring stability to the place.

Thank you a million times to the people who helped me fact check and keep things straight, or just listened to me rant about this: @hellacioushag @lily-thesuriel @elains @aionuel @yazthebookish @fracturedarkness and @/michaelanoelreads on TikTok :) @highqueenmorrigan (Mary I forgot you brought up the sword technique thank you for that!)

[teatreeoill]

|| Selfish (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

In which Gojo is so protective over reader she's sure he hates her. Couldn't be further from the truth, but how would you know it without some good old-fashioned over dramatic angst?

TW: mentions of smoking and blood.

"He hates me. I swear, I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating..." You catch yourself muttering on the steps leading to the training field. The breeze tickles your skin, you cast your shoes aside to change them to trainers. "I didn't even have time to go back to my room and change. All day it's do this, go get that… I swear, Kyoto sounds like a great idea these days." Nobara's look shifts to your shoes, "Where'd you get those? I never saw them in this color before." "Kugisaki!" You plea to her, "I'm serious, please. Gojo hates me. How does it make sense that I'm stuck in damn Grade 2 for the past year and half?" "Maybe," She takes her phone out to take a picture of your shoes, "You're just not as good as you think?" "Oi, Kugisaki, don't talk to your elders like that!" Yuji's voice butts in, he sits with a thump on the stairs next to you. "But I can't imagine Gojo-Sensei hating anyone. Especially a teaching assistant. It makes no sense."

It really does make no sense, you drowned your face in your palms. How are all these kids supposed to take you seriously when they see you humiliated daily? Rejected from missions. Stuck on the same Jujutsu-Grade as the second year students for so long you've lost all hopes of ever advancing anywhere. Forever a teaching assistant, a mere substitute teacher for the times when the truly powerful had more important things to do. Disheartened, you've reduced to sharing your feelings with first-years before training. "Alright, pair up. We haven't got all day!" You get up from the steps, trying to pick up the remains of your self-esteem.

Dusk crept over the surrounding trees. You've been watching the students for hours now, noticing how through each change in their pairings they've gotten better and faster. Familiar feelings loomed over you. That's it. That has to be it. Another day of watching these kids surpass their own limits so simply will surely be the end of the line.

You've marched straight into Gojo's office, not even making an effort to change to something not drenched with sweat. "We will not have that conversation again," the white haired man didn't even bother to look up from his phone. It's true, you've had this conversation every couple of months - and you've always received the same unsatisfying answers. "You're right," you found yourself standing straight across from him, the palms of your hands hitting the desk in between you a little too hard. "Careful with that, it's expensive." He says. You stare at him in silence. How is it, that with all the anger you hoped he'd notice you've directed at him, he wouldn't even avert his gaze from his phone for one minute? "Saturo, I've -" "First name basis, are we now?" Another smug smirk sent your way, your cheeks began to burn. "I think first name basis may be appropriate, since I've decided to transfer to Kyoto." Oh god, when was that decision made? You've always liked Tokyo, the proximity from the city made all your futile efforts here worthwhile. But it was too late to back down. Gojo's hand reached to his blindfold, one blue eye peeks at you. "Alright, good luck then." The blindfold snapped back on, his attention returned quickly to his phone.

"Good luck then," you mutter to yourself, walking back through the darkening corridors to your room, "Good luck then, huh?" It's been over five years now since you've first arrived in Jujutsu High, was good luck then all that he could say? What a fucking -

"Emergency!" A voice rang through the building. Oh god, what now? With your eyes set on your room to wallow the evening in your newly made terrible decision. "Someone! Please!" Your legs carried you before your reasoning did. Through the curves of the hallways, straight to the first-year's rooms. "It's Yuji," Kugisaki looked at you, panting, "He tried to pet Megumi's divine dog. I don't think the dog liked it." Yuji held out his arm. After a thorough inspection, it was just a scary looking graze on his forearm. He muttered to Nobara it wasn't much to fuss about, the blood smearing on the sleeve of his uniform. "It's nothing bad, we'll tend to it any way to avoid an infection," you prompted him to get up from his seat, "I think Shoko's still in the infirmary."

You sat on the infermary bed, with Yuji already on his way back to his room you'd found the time to share your troubles. Shoko sighed, fumbling for a lighter through the things on the tray next to her. "Shoko, I'm going to Kyoto." She lit her cigarette, the smell of smoke suffocating the small room. "That's nice, when will you be back?" She asked, huffing smoke in the direction of the open window. "I don't think I'll be back for a while. Or at all, actually." She dragged a chair to the side of the bed, watching your fingers tap on the fabric.

"I wondered when you'll finally do that. You spoke to Satoru again, didn't you?" A sigh escaped her lips. She'd rarely admit to liking spending time with anyone, but the occasion seemed to call for it. "I'll miss you. That prick always thinks he's doing the right thing."

"I hardly think it's right to deny promotions from anyone for so long. He made sure I was so busy that I could hardly find the time to go on missions." Shoko weighed her words carefully, tapping carefully on the ashtray, removing the ash residue from her cigarette. "It's because he'd never tell you how scared he is for something to happen to you. It's still selfish, don't get me wrong there - but I think he's far too afraid of something happening that it has become easier for him to sabotage you. I told him repeatedly to stop but he just -" Her words cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ieri! You there?" Gojo's impatient knocking had turned frantic. "The lights are on, Shoko. Open up!" Your eyes shot up at Shoko, speak of the devil. The handle turned lightly. Gojo entered the room, turning straight to Shoko, not even looking at your direction. You'd managed to quickly find an excuse to leave, struggling to believe that's the same man who'd do anything out of concern for you. You closed the door, fingers lingering on the round handle, thinking how wrong it would be to eavesdrop while pressing your ear to the door.

"You know she's really leaving, right?" Shoko's distant voice lectured. "That's on you for acting selfish, Gojo." As you thought, he said nothing. Quickly diverting the conversation to something relating to a mission, another one you weren't supposed to be a part of. Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop. You stepped away from the door to turn to the direction of your room. Finally, some good wallowing time.

By the next morning, you've already made all the necessary calls. Wishing somehow it would be harder to convince the higher-ups of your sudden move, but it seemed that help was welcome anywhere, and work always needed to be done. Your bags half packed, you were almost ready to say the sudden goodbyes to the students. The nostalgic look on every part of your room had already taken over, the final time of staring at that crack on the ceiling, the final time of covering that old coffee stain on the nightstand with a small glass whale statuette Gojo brought from one of his trips. Perhaps it's better to leave it there.

You gathered your nerves, opening the door, just to watch the tall white haired man pace from side to side in the hallway. "Did I forget something?" Your hand held the door open. He jumped up a bit from the sudden voice. His pacing slowed, he took a step towards you, you gulped at the narrowing distance between your bodies. "I - spoke to Shoko. I think I got carried away, you don't have to leave on my account." The words felt empty as he said them, Shoko must have chewed him out well yesterday. "You know Go-," You inhaled, "Satoru, not everything happens because of you." His dropped his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes piercing through you. You hardly ever saw him without his blindfold, his stare sending shivers down your spine. "Shoko was quite adamant it's all my fault, So I thought I better -"

You laughed, "Shoko was also quite adamant that all this time you just cared about me, so I guess even smart people can be wrong sometimes." He puzzled over your answer. "But I do." His hand brushes through his hair, just for it to fall over his eyes again. "Funny," you snarl, he studies your expression silently. You've taken advantage of that silence to continue, "So all these years you were just protecting me from dying? I thought sorcerers had accepted that fate when walking in here." "Some things are worse than death," A solemn look takes hold of his face, you could have sworn the color of his eyes darkened. "Do you take me for such a weakling?" Your tone of voice already deeming the conversation as pointless. "I never said that. I think you care, perhaps too much. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself over anything." The joyless tone of voice was far from his usual demeanor.

"Well, now you wouldn't have to see me at all." Your nerves had gotten the best of you. You hardly meant to say it, but as the words were spat out of our mouth, it seemed inappropriate to back off this course of action. "You're not listening to me, (Y/N)" He could hardly cover how irritated he was, his hand gripped your forearm, pushing you towards him. His breath stroked your face, "I would never want something to happen to you, but you seem to be pushing towards it all the time. Aren't you happy with the students? Why do all of you have to go running around searching for burdens to carry when you don't have to?" His fist contracts tighter around your arm. His teeth clench to stop another flow of words he'd regret later on.

"Satoru, who's all of us?" In your voice a sense of shame, an empty pit has formed down at the bottom of your stomach, his eyes still fixed upon you. The same feeling of being scorned as a child, a tough love you'd thought would pass you by at this age. "Are you not happy?" he questions you again, you wiggle your arm as a sign of pain, even as he lets it go you still feel the marks that his fingers left there. "I am, It's just that -" He couldn't let you go on for a second longer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, your breath sucked away by his tongue. A long minute passed, your hand had found a happy place inside his hair, his arms had restricted your movement and emitted safety all together.

Just as he'd stopped for a breath, you'd decided it'd be far too hard to continue the conversation if this went on. "I'd like to not be hindered, Satoru," you wiped the wetness of your lips with your sleeve, "Nobody comes to Jujutsu-High to be protected, they come to protect. If I can't do it when you're there, I'll go." You watched his face change, his mind racing behind the sunglasses. "You can do it here," A piece of sadness was left in an otherwise tranquil voice. "Good." Your smile had reminded him to breathe. "Now," you mused, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" His laughter lifted the tension from your body,

"Oh - Dirty," The familiar smirk had settled down the final waves of emotion.

-

"Not a word, Shoko." you pleaded to her again. "If you don't want the school talking about it, then don't have your arguments in the hall." She took a long drag from her smoke, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" She imitates you silently, chuckling under her breath. "Shoko, I'm begging you!" 

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

To Love and To Cherish (II)

Part 10 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: CNC, oral (f), knife play (he fucks her with the hilt of his knife), bondage, threats, chasing, creepy phonecalls, mild mirror sex, somnophilia, anxiety, fear, angst, cliffhanger.

A/N: Please keep in mind that though this is dark play, everything has been discussed and even practised in advance and is fully consensual.

Hehe

@icannotbetrustedalone 😘

A late lunch is brought to your door after you wake up. You have no idea how Sam knew you were awake, perhaps she'd timed your jet lag that well.

She tells you to enjoy, that her team will be here around dusk to get you dressed for your date.

You smile at that word, knowing that she had no real clue what your husband was really up to.

Later in the day, there’s a knock on your door.

You open it to Sam, with her binder, looking eager.

“Are you ready?” She asks with a smile.

When you nod and open the door wider, she turns her head and nods too, and you blink in surprise when four other women follow her into your room with a lot of different things in hand.

You spot a garment bag, and a makeup kit, another bag has a hair curler sticking out.

They introduce themselves, their specialties are in hairstyles, makeup and nails.

You're out of your depth and you say so, glancing over at Sam for some kind of help.

“Don't worry, we already know what to do based off your preferences.” She explains, “You just have to sit back and enjoy being pampered.”

You guess you could try.

When they're done, you're surprised to see so much of yourself there.

There's a lovely little tiara on your head, your hair in a delicate updo with strands framing your face. The dress- is beyond beautiful, white shimmering fabric, an off shoulder design that makes you feel like a princess.

Your fingers and toes are freshly done in a dark red like you'd requested, so that they can match the red on your lips.

There's a small heel on your silver shoes- safe to run in while still being pretty.

“You guys are amazing.” You say in wonder as you fully assess yourself.

They laugh, happy that you're satisfied.

Sam presents one final thing to you, the one odd thing you'd asked for that wasn't in your binder.

You grin at her, ducking into the ensuite bathroom and tugging the garter out of the box, sliding it on. 

There's a small knife attached to it, and you make sure it's concealed, and easily reachable through the slit in your dress before you step out again.

When they’re finished with some last minute makeup retouches, Sam smiles proudly, and wishes you a very good night, letting you know that they’ll all be leaving you soon, here alone with your husband. 

You can’t help the excited pulse your nether regions give at the reminder, dressed pristinely from head to toe, all for Billy to tear off.

You grin at Sam, walking the small group of women to the door, listening quietly to their plans for the night, encouraging and enjoying their banter, sending them off with a wave into a car waiting for them.

The heavy wooden door closes with a dull sound that echoes through the castle, emphasising your desolation.

You turn, leaning against the door in your shimmery dress, taking in the quiet silence of the place.

There’s a little bit of fear tingling down your spine, the feeling of being truly alone in such a big place, not really knowing where you are, with no means of escape.

You find that it turns you on.

All dressed up, all for him, and you can’t even really leave, a headiness to the realisation, your fear is an aphrodisiac all on its own.

You bite down on the corner of your lip, smiling, pushing yourself away from the door, and decidedly picking a direction to begin your exploration.

You touch everything you see, trailing your freshly done fingertips over every item, examining the feel, appreciating the textures.

The curtains, the lighting fixtures, you examine all of it, a crown on your head that makes you almost feel like you own it all.

You get into the fantasy he’s weaved, becoming the role of the princess he’s cast you in.

You find the throne room first, a flourish of plum and golds, a large red carpet leading to the thrones in question- two- sitting side by side, beckoning you closer. 

You squint, looking up at the massive chandelier that sits in the middle of the room, with little pieces of glass that if cleaned properly, would probably reflect little shards of light. 

You pick the chair on the right, and settle yourself onto it, sighing happily at how comfortable it is, relaxing for a moment, before standing to continue your exploration.

You’re passing the dining room when a phone begins to ring in the distance.

It sends a shiver of fear over you, the dated sound echoing through the halls. You begin searching for it, following the rings of what you assume is an old era phone.

You find the phone on a table at the bottom of the staircase, ruby red, sitting beside a marble statue of a woman, posed with her hand in the air as if to block the light from her eyes.

It keeps ringing until you tentatively pick it up, bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say softly into it.

There’s a voice on the other end, modulated to be unrecognizeable to you, but even that sends a shiver of excitement through you.

“Princess.” The voice says calmly.

You swallow.

“Who is this?”

The voice is deep, each grovel is a tremor in your body.

“I’m just a nightmare, sweetheart. I hope you’re ready for me.”

You shudder, shaking your head.

“Ready for what?”

He doesn’t answer your question.

“You look gorgeous. Prettier than I expected. It’s making me… want.”

You stiffen, taking a breath and looking around, searching the shadows for some sign of a man, lurking in the darkness.

“You can see me?” You ask in a soft whisper, laying the fear on thickly.

“Of course, princess. I’ll be inside soon, we’ll get a nice, long introduction to each other.”

You gasp in surprise, dropping the phone and moving quickly to the doors you passed during your exploration, making sure that they’re locked.

Your hand is on the door separating the kitchen from the gardens- when the lights go out.

You hear your own breath of surprise, your heart pattering in your chest, real fear being awakened inside of you when you realise that this is actually happening.

Everything is still, you’re afraid to move, the darkness becoming honey thick all around you.

Eventually, being still is too much, and you have to force your body to break the stillness around you.

There’s barely a sliver of light, the moon, casting pale streams through the windows. Instinct tells you to stay where you can see, your body backed against the window, eyes peering into the darkness as if it’s alive and coming for you.

You glance down when something shimmery catches your eye, gasping, you realise that the moonlight makes you a bigger target, your dress reflecting its beams in every direction.

It leaves you no choice but to step into the darkness.

You wonder where he is, if hands will just reach out and grab you at any given moment.

It makes your stomach tight, that what you’ve been yearning for is almost within reach.

“Hello?” You call out shyly, voice shaking just a little. You walk softly out of the kitchen, one hand against the wall to guide you, unsure of exactly where you’re going.

Suddenly, a chill runs over the back of your neck, like a soft breath from someone standing just behind you. You turn, waving your hand into the darkness, and finding nothing but air.

You feel so much like prey in that moment, searching for a predator with hunting skills beyond your comprehension.

You’re passing the dining room when your heart freezes in your chest. In the corner of your eye, you can see the silhouette of a dark figure, standing in the moonlit window.

Your breath halts in your throat, turning to face him, the swishing of your dress is louder in your ears.

The mask is- terrifying- white, with the appearance of fractured glass across it, some pieces missing over the cheek area, his real face peeking through.

He raises a hand, and presses a gloved finger to the mouth of the mask.

You turn, and run.

Fuck, this was it, it was really happening. He was here, and he was going to do all the things he promised he would, all the things you’d practised together so that he was sure you were always one hundred percent safe and comfortable.

You’re not very fast, the dress and heels slowing you down

He grabs you at the very moment the lights flick on.

It takes a moment for your eyes to get adjusted, and then you gasp when your back is slammed to a wooden wall behind you, the intricate carvings pressing uncomfortably to your spine.

His hands are on your shoulders, keeping you in place as you look up at him with fear in your eyes.

You finally get a chance to see him fully, all masked up, covered from head to toe in what can only be the most mouth watering look on the planet.

Sure, his suits were divine, but seeing him dressed down like this was a cherry on top of a malevolent cake.

It clings to his skin, the cut of his chest and arms showing through the tight, long- sleeved shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of navy combat pants, and further into boots.

It’s much easier to note where you can see his skin- on his wrists between the sleeve and the glove, his neck, and parts of his face that show through the fractured pieces of his mask.

He’s a work of devastating art, lust incarnate, bringing forth so much delight that you struggle to hide it.

“Please,” you whisper shakily, getting into character, feeling it spark arousal, “Don't hurt me.”

You watch the darkness clouds his eyes, a predator, hidden beneath layers of humanity, finally being set free.

“Oh, princess,” he whispers, leaning in, trailing his gloved thumb over your jaw and cheekbone lovingly, “I am definitely going to hurt you.” 

You gasp at his words, reaching for the weapon strapped to your thigh. It was your turn to give him a surprise.

The dagger is sharp, you made sure of it, wanted it to be real, you wanted to see a genuine look of surprise in his eyes when you finally pressed it to his neck.

Except, he doesn't look surprised at all.

“Leave.” You say, with so much command in your voice that you almost believe you have the power to say something like that to him.

He studies you for a lengthy moment, before he tilts his head back and lets out a deep laugh, and even that, works to seduce you.

His hold is an iron grip on your wrist, and it was a mistake letting him grab you, he’s too strong, and no matter how hard you struggle, you can’t get your hand back.

“This knife is pathetic, princess.” He grabs the hilt, twisting it so that you’re forced to release it or have your wrist twisted too, it clatters loudly in the empty space.

“Is that all you have to fight me off with? No wonder this is so easy.”

You exhale angrily, trying to push him away, your freshly done nails digging into his arms.

He grips your hands, pulling them above your head and pinning them there with one of his.

A soft sound of distress leaves your lips, struggling to get away but your dress is too much of a hindrance, keeping your legs pressed in one place when he moves closer.

“Here, why don’t I show you mine?” He murmurs, reaching with his free hand to pull a significantly larger knife out of his boot.

You gulp, eyeing it wearily as he rubs the handle roughly against your cheek, the hilt is coated in a rubber, with indents to help with grip. He slides it around till it’s pressed to your lips, smearing your lipstick, you angle your head away to avoid it.

“I’m going to fuck you with this,” He promises, leaning in till the mouth of his mask is on your ear,  “Gonna use it to get you ready for my cock.”

“No.” you murmur weakly.

“No?” He teases, “Well why don’t you try stopping me then?” He murmurs, pulling back a little to free you from his hold.

You’re surprised to be free, knowing that it’s just a trick, knowing that he wants to chase you. 

You keep your eyes on his form, watching him observe you as you slowly back away.

“Go on, princess,” He says in such a condescending tone that your knees wobble, “Run away from me.”

When you're far enough away that you know he won't grab you, you turn, pulling your skirts up a little so that you can run.

Heart pounding in your chest you have no idea where you're going or what your plan is beyond running away. You couldn't very well hide in a dress that glimmers when you breathe, you couldn't fight- all you really had in your arsenal was your capacity to get him angrier.

With that in mind, you grab the first heavy thing you can find- the telephone directory- turning and chucking it in his approximate vicinity.

It doesn't slow him down at all, because he grabs your wrist in the next second, pulling you into him.

“No!” You exclaim, swiping your nails across his mask, knocking it askew so that he can't see.

You’re not proud of how hard you stomp his foot next, watching him double over with a low grunt, allowing you to get some distance. 

The phone, you decide, angling your run to get you to the base of the main stairs.

You just make it to the phone- grabbing the glossy handset and raising it to your ear- before he grabs it roughly from you, reaching behind to rip all the important wires out of the back.

You almost can’t do it, wanting to drop to your knees right there and beg him to take you- but you know that deep down you had to see this fantasy fully play out.

He’s angry now, and he shows it by grabbing the entire phone and slamming it to the floor while you watch, backing away in horror, his sleek boot slamming the broken pieces until it’s nothing but ruby shards.

“Who were you going to call, princess? You don’t even know where you are.”

Jesus, you think, helplessly aroused.

The next time you turn away, he wraps an arm around your waist and picks you up.

You kick your feet in protest, scratching at his arms, trying to pry his iron grip off of you but it’s no help, you grunt, and you kick and you wriggle and still he drags your body wherever.

He drops you below the chandelier of the throne room. 

It glitters in your eyes as you try to catch your bearings, sitting up you watch him grab a length of rope from his belt.

You try to scramble back but your dress catches under your feet, making you slip, falling back even more.

He grips one of your wrists while you’re disoriented, and you feel the rope wrap tightly around it. You try to push him off, but he just catches your other hand, wrapping them securely in front of you, knotting them easily.

He stands, and with a strong arm, throws the other end of the rope through a support rung of the chandelier, catching it as it swings toward him.

Then, he pulls, forcing you up onto your knees, your hands suspended in the air, as he moves to secure the rope to the throne nearby.

You struggle, trying to tug your way out, your legs tangled in your dress, stopping you from standing.

“I wouldn’t.” He warns softly, “Pull too hard and it might fall, carving up that pretty body before I’m done.”

He kneels beside you, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“That would make me, real upset.” He breathes through the mask.

“P-lease.” You beg, turning your head to look at him, relaxing when you realise there was no escaping without hurting yourself.

“God, you're so pretty.” He trails a gloved hand over your cheek, down your chest, the leather is smooth on your skin, you shiver when his hand reaches the top of your dress.

“I almost don't want to hurt you.” his hand smooths over the front of the dress, slipping lower to gently untangle the skirts from your legs, you adjust to let him do so, thinking that it will allow you to stand up.

You turn your head to look at him, examining his eyes through the mask, the way they linger on your body, you don’t even realise what’s been done until you feel his gloved hand slip under your panties and press right to your clit.

The friction is delicious, the smooth leather providing an interesting feel between your thighs. You look down, realising he’s used the high slit of your dress to get under your skirts easily.

“Don’t.” You beg, trying to inch away, “Please.”

“I don’t fucking care what you want, princess.” He grits out harshly, his finger pressing down more firmly, slipping from side to side, the pleasure, trying to force you to shut down your resistance.

“I’m here to steal from you, and I’m going to take everything I want.”

Your breaths become shallow when his finger starts circling your aching bud, you’ve been denying yourself for so long that you feel the sweet burn of pleasure the longer he does it.

You can even feel how wet you are, in the fluidness of his movements. He breathes into your ear, and you find yourself leaning into him to take the weight off of your knees.

“Don’t do this,” You murmur weakly, “Please I’ll do anything.”

He laughs in your ear, slowing his movements to torment you.

“I’m doing you a favour, sweetheart, you should be grateful. At least I have the decency to let you cum before I fuck you with my knife.”

You make a sound of protest, angling away from him.

“No!” You cry.

He doesn’t let you move far, gripping the back of your head, till it’s tilted back, hands suspended above you, his fingers resume their fast movement on your clit.

He’s dextrous, even with gloves on, you can feel the micromovements that succeed in bringing you right up to that edge even faster.

Your eyes roll back in your head, surprised that he’s got you right on edge so soon, though you know you shouldn’t be, this is your husband after all, he knows exactly how to get you off.

The weeks of denial burn, your body not accustomed to orgasm needs an extra push getting there, he presses down even firmer, speeding up.

You groan, unable to stop it, or resist it, your stomach clenched tight with nothing in sight but the precipice of orgasm.

Don’t stop, you beg internally, please don’t stop.

It’s a hollow thing, but strong nonetheless. You breathe shallowly through gritted teeth as you reach your peak, thighs trembling, as you rut yourself helplessly on his gloved fingers.

Too good, needing just a little bit more, thighs sticky with your orgasm, his fingers growing even more messy as you come.

Your vision whites out for a moment, senses evaporating temporarily, you come back to the sound of your own panting, heavy in the room.

You don’t get a chance to look over at him with desperate eyes, he pulls his hand from between your thighs and promptly shoves his drenched fingers into your mouth.

You hum in protest, trying to pull away, but he’s still got that iron grip on the back of your head.

“Taste that slutty little cunt, princess. Remember how wet you get for me when you’re begging me to stop later.”

You can only grunt your denial, with his fingers in your mouth, the taste of leather and your arousal making its point on your tongue.

When he draws his hand back, they come out with heavy strings of saliva that cling to your bottom lip.

“You’ll pay for this.” You whisper hoarsely, your head hanging low. Your arms start to ache a little from the way they’re held above your head.

It’s the wrong thing to say, he grips your hair once more, tugging your head back to an almost uncomfortable position.

“What was that?”

You make a little sound at the way he manhandles you, tilting your head, you look him in the face.

“I said, ‘You'll pay for this.”

He studies you slowly, you watch his eyes flicker as he studies your face. You curl your hands into fists, hoping he lets you down soon.

His laughter doesn't surprise you, but it does make your stomach twist.

“Yeah? Who’s gonna make me pay? You?” He says between small sounds of amusement, reaching back, he pulls the knife from before out of his pocket.

You eye it warily, as he brings the blade up to your line of sight, you swallow, trying to breathe as you examine the wicked edge of the serrated blade.

You go perfectly still when the cool metal of the blade touches your cheek.

“You might be a pretty little thing, but you have no power to make me pay. You’re all mine to do what I want. You can’t stop me.”

You whine pitifully, knowing that his words were true.

He reaches up, cutting the rope and guiding your hands into your lap. By now, they tingle, almost numb but not quite, you sigh in relief, watching him quietly squeeze your arms.

“Don’t be scared,” He says, surprisingly soft for someone who was just running the sharp edge of a knife over your cheek, “I'm sure you'll learn to love taking my cock. Maybe with time, you'll beg me for it.”

“Go to hell.” You utter with as much venom as you can muster.

Behind the mask, you hear his laugh, watching the way he lowers his hand, flipping the knife around so that the hilt points toward you.

You lean away, your dress glittering as you move, feeble bound arms raising to push his hand back as he draws closer.

You don’t get far in stopping him, and in the next moment, you feel the hilt of his blade pressed between your thighs.

Fuck, this was too good.

Your head tips back in bliss, torn between fighting him and begging him to just take you in any way he wanted.

Your husband, the man you loved with almost every atom in your body.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You whisper on a shaky breath, turning to look at him.

Behind the mask, he huffs, the hand in your hair wraps neatly around your throat.

Pulling you close, looking into your eyes, you can hear his angry breaths behind his mask.

He wriggles the hilt of his knife against your cunt, pleasure swelling in your head at the very touch.

He stands suddenly, sheathing his knife, grips your arm to haul you up. Your legs wobble, almost giving out beneath you before he’s wrapping his hands around your hips to lift you.

With your hands tied together, there’s nothing more you can do than wiggle, shifting your body this way and that, but he doesn’t say a word, dropping you onto one of the thrones in the next moment.

He grabs the rope that's tied to the throne- the one that had been used to pull you onto your knees just moments before- and uses it to secure each hand to either side of you.

You kick your foot out at him, and he simply grabs your ankle, gloved hand trailing up to your thigh for a moment before he bends your knee, pulling your leg over the arm of the throne, and securing your ankle to a point somewhere between the base and the foot that you can't really see.

From there, it's over for you, your other foot is caught just as swiftly, and the next thing you know, you’re tied securely to the throne with your legs opened wide, draped across the arms of the intricately carved seat.

He's silent for a moment, appreciating his work, you tug at the restraints to further reinforce his satisfaction that you can't move.

“Damn. You look like a work of art.”

You frown up at him.

He leans over you, and you finally understand the versatility he has with you in this position. He could fuck your cunt, or your mouth, or even your breasts if he so wanted and you couldn't do a damn thing.

He grips your jaw with one hand, tilting your head up, coming closer, pressing a knee into the open space between your thighs for balance. When he gets close enough, he covers your eyes, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours.

It gives you butterflies, the way he presses in firmly, taking with his mouth, his beard scratching softly at your chin and lips. You hum against his mouth, feeling his hold on your jaw tighten for a second before he's shoving his tongue past your lips.

Like he owns you, his kiss consumes your senses, your bound fingers curling into little fists as you enjoy kissing him for a few moments more.

Before you bite down harshly on his tongue.

He pulls away in a split second, back to you as he presses his hand to his mouth. You grin in victory as he tugs the mask sitting on his head back down to his face before turning to face you angrily.

He's slow when he approaches, predatory with his long legs and his cocky attitude.

He drops to one knee in front of you, tilts his head, leaning in.

You hear the loud thud of his hand slamming into the space beside your head long before you've registered what's happened.

It makes you flinch in surprise, despite the fact that he'd practised it with you before. It seems way more sinister now, with his masked persona feeling like a different person altogether.

Naturally, the fear spinning inside of you, only succeeds in making you more aroused. 

“You're such a brat, I almost want to fuck you right now with no prep.” He presses his thumb between your spread legs, ambling slowly over your clothed clit, “I bet I'd make that little cunt cry with how much I stretch her.”

You suck in a slow breath.

“Please don't.”

He pulls his knife out again.

“You don’t really have a choice.” He answers, carefully angling the cool blade between the seam of your panties.

“Don’t move, little girl, or I might accidentally hurt you- on purpose.” He teases, tugging the knife toward him so that your panties are cut through with zero effort.

You sigh in relief when your cunt is finally exposed to the cool air, sticky with arousal, you groan when he tugs your undergarment free.

“Look at that weepy little hole princess- fuck- she’s so empty, isn’t she?”

“Noo” You hum softly, clenching around nothing as he studies your most delicate area.

He moves slowly, almost reverent in his actions, notching the tip of his hilt against your entrance, you feel your lungs seize as the pleasure hits you.

You hiss when he presses in, the ridged hilt stretching you open, not as big as his cock, but certainly larger than his fingers.

You take it as best as you can, relaxing, eyes watering with an abundance of pleasure.

He tilts his head, makes a single click of his tongue.

“She’s so greedy,” He says breathlessly, “Look at that.” He sinks more of the hilt in.

You bite your lip, moaning when he pulls slowly out, pushing in again.

He starts slow, moving softly until you can take all of the hilt. He grips the blade, you wonder if the glove protects him from the sharp edge.

You want to say his name, but he hasn’t given it, so you settle for sniffling, your bottom lip wobbling wetly as he takes his time.

“Stop.” You mewl, trying to stay in character, looking at his masked face, watching his dark eyes look back.

“No, sweetheart,” He says evenly, “I’m going to play with you, until I’m done.”

You suck in a deep breath, holding it.

He quickens his pace just a little, and before you know it, your cunt has locked tight around the hilt of his knife, every blunted ridge of it being imprinted into your head as you see stars.

It’s unexpected, you hadn’t meant to cum, your body jerking helplessly against the restraints, you pant, unable to see straight for a few moments.

You gulp in air, coming back to your senses. He waits patiently for your orgasm to subside, your body to relax before he works the hilt out of your eager cunt.

“You’re so pretty when you do that.” He says, tucking his knife back into his belt, studying you for a moment before reaching up to shove two of his fingers past your lips.

You can’t go anywhere, simply forced to feel him carefully push and pull his fingers in and out of your mouth, the weight on your tongue encouraging your brain to surrender to him.

When he determines his fingers are wet enough, he glides them down your chest, and tugs at the front of your dress.

It takes a little work before his thumb and index find your pert nipple.

A breath of air leaves you, and your back arches involuntarily, begging for more of his touch.

“You like it, huh? Kinda pathetic.”

“Rot in- f- hell.” You grunt, eyes rolling back as pleasure swims in your head from the way he takes his time to play with your nipples.

You feel his hand, drag over your stomach as he chuckles, the rushing sound as he disturbs the fabric of your skirts. Deft fingers rub circles into your inner thigh before a lone finger slips under the silky elastic garter that was holding your little knife.

You watch him assess you, bound arms and spread thighs and his masked face tilts as his eyes meet your centre.

“So pretty.” He mumbles, before he leans in, lifts his mask to the top of his head and lays a gentle lick to the seam of your cunt.

You gasp in surprise, unable to see his face with the mask atop his head, all you can do is feel- the way he licks gently at you, softly, the need burning white hot with each moment he teases. His tongue trails up to your clit, offers you a preview of the pleasure he can give, before placing slow swipes of his tongue over you.

You sigh, the fight leaves your limbs, you feel like jelly above him, with a tongue that can only be described as godly.

There’s no way you can continue fighting past this, his tongue pulls obedience from you, compliance, it makes you willing and eager to let him do whatever he wanted, helpless for your perfect husband.

You let out a slow moan, head tipping back, thighs trembling with the way his tongue moves, gliding over your clit, showing you exactly what he was capable of without ever actually giving you anything.

“Please,” You simper, unable to resist, with the tongue of such a dextrous man working on you.

If he wants to ask you about where your fight went, he doesn’t bother, merely laughing into your heated cunt, the fractures of his pale mask staring back at you.

Almost there, your fingers curl tight, nails pressed to the flesh of your palms as your breathing hastens. 

There’s a rushing in your head, pressure all over, threatening to make you burst apart.

You’re not sure if he knows or cares, his mask moving slightly when his head does, when his tongue, the raving appendage it is, delves through you.

Faster and yet faster, slippery tongue gliding over you, aimed at your oversensitive bundle of nerves, delicate movements of his tongue that are going to unravel you.

His beard rough against your thighs, a wet smacking sound, warm air brushing over you as he exhales, the reminder that he's there, enjoying his time on his knees, unwilling to stop until you've hit that peak.

He presses in closer, his grip on your thighs tightening, firm in their reminder that he’s there- as if you could forget. Your body shakes, soft whines leave your throat, his tongue harsher on your clit.

“I-” You try to say, but your body decides that you’ve spoken enough, you bite down on your bottom lip, every muscle in your body pulled tight.

The first thing you do when your orgasm hits, is tremble.

A sweet fire erupts inside of you, an insurmountable amount of pleasure spreading over you. Your breathing is harsh, heaving, his soft tongue licks you through it, gentle now and soothing between your thighs, no doubt drinking deep of your orgasm.

You press your hips into his face, unable to stop yourself, and he rewards the movement with more careful touches of his tongue.

The rope holding your arms and legs down chafes slightly, protesting your movement, and after a minute, you slump into the chair, boneless and sated.

Your breathing remains harsh, lips wet from being trapped between your teeth, your face is hot, you can feel each time the blood reaches your cheeks, each time your heart contracts in your chest.

You can't hold yourself up and you know it. If you weren't tied up you'd be in a boneless pile.

“Not bad, princess.” He says, warm breath on your thighs. He raises his body to be in your line of sight, the mask still covering his face. 

You feel your nipples tingle, excitement stiffening them as he hovers above you.

He tilts his head to study you, his gloved finger tapping the tip of your nose, sliding down to your parted lips.

“You look real pretty when you come. Your mouth opens and your eyes roll back sometimes- makes me want to do it again and again so I can memorise the way you look.”

It's hard to respond, brain hazy with post-orgasmic bliss, but you have to- you need to.

“Please,” You whisper, “You're not the first man to make me come, and you won't be the last.”

You know you're in real trouble when his hand wraps around your throat.

Your eyes widen, he squeezes hard for a moment, which only succeeds in filling your brain with mindless pleasure. You don't bother trying to breathe, waiting till his grip loosens to take a small breath.

“If you think,” He grunts angrily, leaning in till he hovers over you, “that another man is ever going to touch you, you're more delusional than I thought, princess.”

You can only make a small grunt of protest, gazing angrily up at him.

“And maybe I can't control who touched you before I met you, but I can still gift you their heads.”

It makes your breath stutter in shock.

He releases your throat, pressing the tip of his gloved finger to your bottom lip.

“Tug this off. I want to really touch you now.”

You hold his eyes while your teeth sink into the tip of his glove, biting down on his finger too. He pulls down, dislodging his finger from the glove. You release it, and repeat the process with all five of his fingers, and finally, when they're all loose, you clamp your teeth down on the middle finger of his glove and he pulls his hand free easily.

 It smears your lipstick no doubt, and you probably look quite messy by now, no doubt your hair is askew as well.

He reaches down after he makes you help with his other glove, and you hear the slow drag of his zipper. Nothing has ever sounded so euphoric.

You look up at him with wide eyes to find that he's already looking at you.

His eyes terrify you, so much darkness in them, you wonder how you'd never seen it before.

“Don't do this.” You beg, startling when you feel his hot cock brush your inner thigh.

At the same time, the main lights flicker off, only the small auxiliary lights on the walls glow softly.

The darkness in his eyes grow, until it becomes an extension of the room.

“Just breathe, princess, this is going to hurt.”

It does at first.

Even though you've come three times so far, and he's used the hilt of his knife on you, and also his tongue to help further your wetness, his size still pinches. 

It's been a while, and you feel it in the way he stretches you open, going slow because he knows he's not an easy man to take.

But God, he feels so good.

The pain comes with double the pleasure, that makes your eyes roll back in your head, bound hands curling into fists, nails digging into your palm in an attempt to process the feeling.

He pushes the tip of his cock in, works carefully to fill you, slows down when he encounters resistance.

You take a shallow breath, coming back to your senses a little, looking up at him as he works himself into you.

He rocks his hips, encouraging your body to feel him, to welcome him in, and you have no control over it, surrendering to him easily.

He's so deep you feel it in your throat, a shuddering mess as he bottoms out, you feel tears spring to your eyes, a fullness you've been craving.

Your lips tremble, watery vision glued to the mask, you couldn't look away if you wanted to.

“Should I stop?” He asks, a minuscule tremor of his voice that gives away that he's not as unaffected as he seems.

You can't say the words, the lie too big to be voiced, but you want to keep playing despite how desperately you need him.

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding softly.

He blinks behind the mask, a tilt of his head to study you. 

Arms braced on either side of you, he leans in till the mask touches your cheek.

“That's too bad.” He murmurs.

Then, he draws out, before pressing into you once more.

You make a small sound, and then another when he does it again, the slow drag of his cock is torture, but that's the best part.

You whine, unable to speak, or voice your frustrations, but he chuckles above you, already knowing that he's not giving you what you need.

It's slow, so fucking slow and yet deep enough to create spots of black in your vision. 

He grunts above you, and the sound goes right down to your cunt, clamping around him for a second before releasing.

“Fuck.” He growls, “You're so tight. I'm going to love coming in you.”

This was it, time to be the best actress possible.

“N-no, you can't! I'm- I'm not-”

His laugh is so dark it sends shivers down your spine.

Deep and low, devastatingly malicious.

“I can’t?” He teases.

You shake your head no quickly, eyes wide in shock and fear.

He pauses his slow movements to look down at you, too enraptured to focus on two things at once.

“Who’s going to stop me, princess? You?”

You struggle against your bindings helplessly.

“It's okay, we both know you'll learn to like it.”

With those words, he resumes his slow pace.

It's not fair, barely realistic you've never had an orgasm creep up on you like this.

You don't understand, his cock is moving slow, and yet all your pleasure spots are sparking. Is it his size? Or maybe he just knows your body so well that he can force an orgasm so sweet out of you that it almost hurts.

But you can feel every spark, every short circuit of your brain, your toes curl, and your back stiffens, and the dangerous man above you draws it out, wringing each drop of pleasure before moving to the next.

“Perfect.” He whispers, almost sounding out of breath, and when your chest begins to burn, he delivers one harsh thrust of his cock that makes you topple like a house of cards.

A moan leaves your mouth on every other breath, unable to control your vocalisations, or even your breathing, clamped so tightly around him that he makes a low grunt before you feel him spill inside of you. It makes it that much better, knowing that he's hit his peak at the same time you have.

You come back to your senses slowly, his mask coming into focus.

Each breath eases the burning pleasure, replacing it with sweet euphoria, a drug like never before.

He’s panting too, trembling a little, no doubt struggling to stay upright after his first orgasm in six weeks.

And here you are, about to taunt him for it.

“Is that it?” You ask softly.

You’re a little unprepared for the way his eyes scald you.

“Is my cunt that good?” You continue to tease.

He closes his eyes, takes a slow breath to calm himself.

When he looks at you again, you know you're in a lot of trouble.

He leans away, reaches for his knife before slowly cutting the ropes free from around your ankles.

You hiss when he frees your arms, noticing that there's the impression of the rope on your wrists, you rub them as you right your legs, moving them from their previously spread state.

He watches you, and you do the same warily.

“Stand up.”

You gulp, pushing yourself onto wobbly legs, you sway for a moment, before looking over at him expectantly.

He’s still wearing the mask, but by now you’re aching to see his face, you wanted to see your husband while he did these wicked things to you.

He tilts his head toward the door, and your eyes follow the motion, not understanding until he speaks.

“Get out.”

Your head swivels back to him.

“Go, before I change my mind.”

This was another game, you realise, you’d made him mad, and he was going to show you exactly how helpless you were.

You back away, like always, keeping your eyes on his. You can feel his cum, smearing the inside of your thighs as you move. It only makes you more aroused.

You smooth your dress out anxiously, looking down at the shimmery material, and then back up at him, slowly backing away until you’re far enough that he won’t grab you from behind.

When you make it to the door, he’s still standing where he was, looking at you in the dimly lit room.

You can feel your heart in your throat with the fear of everything around you, a sinister ambience, the thrill of being chased.

Outside is dim as well.

The main lights are off. All you have to go on are the smaller lights along the walls.

You don’t get too far from the throne room before all the auxiliary lights flicker off as well.

The darkness squeezes at your heart, a shiver going down your spine. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the distinct nothingness.

The room is still, quiet around you but you can feel him everywhere. It’s like he’s the darkness surrounding you, touching your skin, depriving you of everything except himself.

It’s why you’re not surprised when you feel him at your back.

His hand reaches around, grips your throat and uses the leverage to pull you back. He isn’t gentle, squeezing at the sides harshly to ensure you’re paying attention to him, as if you could ever be distracted.

His bare hand, warm, coarse, thumb and middle finger pressed to either side of your neck. You go lightheaded at the sensation.

You feel his nose press into your hair, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear and you realise he’s taken his mask off.

“I change my mind.” He whispers darkly, laughs when you struggle.

You pull out of his grip, and you run as fast as your legs can take you.

He doesn’t chase, and you make it a good distance away, tucking your body behind a wall to catch your breath. You don’t know where you are, but you assume it’s somewhere near the front doors. The pins in your hair are uncomfortable, and you take your time tugging the little tiara out of your hair, dropping it to the floor.

You can feel his cum, making an even bigger mess, and the implications of that only succeed in heightening your arousal.

The sound of his knife, dragging against the wooden panels on the walls catch your attention. You lift your head, a tug of desire pulls below your navel.

“You know, the first time I met you, really met you, I couldn't believe you were real.” He says, his voice carrying through the quiet hallway.

“You looked at me, and you listened, and all I could think about was how to get you alone, away from that useless boyfriend of yours.”

Your lips part, head pressed to the wall, eager to hear his words, your heart drumming in your chest.

“And when you left me that night, I went back to my lonely apartment, and I found out everything I could about you. I didn’t sleep. I needed to find something to hate- something that would help me stop obsessing over a girl I’d met one time.”

His voice gets closer and you know you have to move, or else he was going to find you. 

Quietly, you kick your shoes off, abandoning them so that your steps can be quieter, you lift your skirts slowly, trying to stop the swishing sound it makes.

“You know what I found? Nothing. Nothing could make me hate you, nothing could stop what you started when you smiled at me, all of it made me want you.”

Your heart hammers even more with his words.

“And while I was trying to come up with a plan to make you mine, I’d been yours for ages.”

You stop, turning to his voice as he says that last part, wanting to go to him, to hold him, to tell him the secret you’d been keeping for weeks- that you were his too.

“Don’t fret too much about it though, princess. There’s no need to worry, I’ll feel all better once you come on my cock.”

You gasp, backing away, one hand behind you to stop you from bumping into anything. He was absolutely insane in the best way.

You can’t see a damn thing, feeling your way around to find the entrance you’d come through, your breathing is loud in your ears, you’re sure he can hear you.

You were conflicted. You wanted to run towards the scary man hiding in the darkness, though you know it would be worth your while to run away.

“You want me so bad?” You taunt into the darkness, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

Skirts in hand, you follow the first light you see- the moonlight streaming through the kitchen windows, the feel of the carpet runner helps you move in a straight line, and the next thing you know is that you’re at the foot of the stairs.

You look back, trying to make shapes out of the darkness, but there’s nothing there, you turn and begin your ascent.

You don’t know where he is, he could be two feet or two inches behind you and you wouldn’t know.

Your body is warm from the adrenaline, the dress constricts your breathing.

You stop for a second time when you find what you think is a tea room.

There’s a large wooden table sitting in front of an equally large window, the moonlight streaming in allows you to see that there’s a wall of mirrors on one side of the room. On the other side, is a smaller round table with a porcelain teapot, and other matching dishes.

“Surprise.” He says from right behind you, and you swear your heart jumps right out of your chest.

Before you can turn to look at him, your cheek is pressed to the large table, one hand behind your neck, the other pulls your skirts up.

When he has your ass exposed, his hand comes down hard on your soft flesh. You cry out.

“That’s for all your mouthing back.” He grunts, before spanking you again.

It hurts, stings so sweetly, you try to rise but his hand is firm on the spot between your neck and shoulder.

When he’s satisfied, he reaches down between your legs.

He clicks his tongue, his fingers swiping through the mess between your thighs.

“Look at the mess you made. Don't you have any kind of consideration for how hard I worked to put my cum in you?”

You feel him move, you assume to take his cock out. Your suspicions are confirmed when you feel him kick your legs wider, pressing his tip to your entrance.

You mewl helplessly when he enters you.

Stretched once more, he feels bigger in this position, his pace is harsh, fucking into you meaningfully, your eyes roll back in your head, spit slipping from past your lips as your face is kept pressed to the table.

You feel a sharp tug and your dress loosens, too pleasure drunk to figure out why.

The glide of his cock quells your urge to fight, your body sparking, electrified at the feeling of him.

He pulls you upwards, and the front of the dress sags, exposing your front to the air.

“Look at us.” He growls into your ear, turning your head to the mirror, you see your bodies reflecting back. Him, in his tight shirt and open pants, you with your beautiful shimmering dress caught between your bodies and hanging off your shoulders. It’s the first time for the night that you see his face, and your eyes are locked on how handsome he looks, hair askew, filling you with his magnificent erection.

He’d cut the back of your dress, you realise absentmindedly, your full breasts on display for him because of that, a small sound leaving your chest as he enters you again.

“We’re perfect together.” He acknowledges, you internally agree.

He presses his lips to your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror, his teeth flashing for a second before he bites you.

You cry out, the sweet burn of it only succeeds in making you want him more and more.

He doesn’t stop when you come, only slows for a moment to help you catch your breath before he continues.

“All mine now, princess.” He affirms, his hips slapping against yours, filling you till your vision blurs.

Deeper than ever, you feel his cock press securely to your cervix, eager to have him fill you with his cum.

You take a shuddering breath, so close to another orgasm, unable to think about anything with the way he feels.

Your nails claw at the table, willing your body to take him, your perfect husband, giving you just what you need. He groans above you, enjoying you almost as much as you enjoy him.

The pleasure builds, swimming in your head, worsening with each move of his cock inside of you. He holds nothing back, all of his energy is focused on filling you as hard and as fast as he can, leaving nothing behind but hot, near blistering, rapture.

You cry out when you come, body shuddering, a loud roaring in your head. He grunts loudly, following you over the edge, filling you with even more of his hot cum.

After a moment, he draws out of you, helping you stand, he gently pulls your dress off, discarding it on the ground, he reaches to scoop your swaying body into his arms.

You’re sated, unable to lift your head. You feel him rest you gently on a soft, cool bed.

The sheets are amazing on your overstimulated skin, and you peek your eyes open to watch him pull his tight fitting shirt over his head.

In the low light, your eyes find his tattoo, you smile softly as it ripples, watching him kick his shoes and pants off too, until he’s hovering above you, naked.

“You’re so gorgeous.” You whisper dreamily, raising a hand to press it to his cheek.

He lets out an air of amusement, he reaches around, gripping one of your legs to wrap it around his hip.

“Only the best for you, princess.” He hums, before you feel him push his cock into you once more.

You fall asleep to him fucking you, your adrenaline crashes after countless orgasms, and before you know it you’re out. You wake a few hours later to find him inside you once more.

You moan his name, your body still eager and receptive to him, having craved this side of him for so long.

“Messy pile of wife.” He grunts into your ear mid-thrust, “Just like I promised.”

There’s so much of his cum slipping out, you can feel it, you can’t wait for him to top you up with more.

He kisses your cheek, licks a stripe through the tears slipping from the corner of your eyes.

“Cum for me. One more time, baby.”

You gasp, nodding, head filled with cotton, floating in the clouds, lost in his essence.

You blink hazily after you feel the smooth metal plug slip in, soothing you with its coolness, arousing you with the reminder that he’s filled you to the brim.

You’re pressed against him, his hand wrapped securely around you. He stretches to reach something on the bedside table.

You’re almost asleep when you feel him slip your ring back onto your finger.

It makes you complete, eases any lingering worry.

“I love you, Billy.” You murmur, before you finally let sleep take you.

.

It wakes him up.

He blinks in shock, turning to look at you.

You’ve already fallen asleep, breaths even with your left hand pressed to his chest.

Had you really just said what he thinks you just said?

He considers shaking you awake, desperate to hear you say it again. To tell him what he’s been dreaming of for years.

What if it was a mistake? His mind asks.

His stomach drops.

What if you didn’t really mean it?

He swears he breaks his own heart in the moments after you say those four words.

He stays awake for a while, trying to memorise your words, the way you said them, the way they made him feel. He tries to learn the hour and the minute and the position of the moon in the sky at the very moment the words left your mouth.

He wonders if he’ll ever hear them again, wonders if this would be the only time in his life that you say these words to him.

If this is all he gets, he decides he’s going to cherish it.

“I love you too.” He whispers, with everything he has.

.

You’re curled up against him the next morning having breakfast when you finally take the time to examine your ring.

Your body is sore, having been fucked thoroughly, but you were a little proud to see the litany of scratches over the expanse of Billy’s back. You weren’t the only one marked last night.

You raise your hand to offer him a piece of your buttered croissant, he eagerly takes a bite.

“My ring looks the same. What did you change?” You ask, reaching for more jam.

“The inside.” He says with his mouth full.

You smile, pulling it off your finger to see what’s there. On the silver surface on the inside, you can see something engraved. At first you think it’s words, but as you bring the ring closer to your face you realise it’s numbers.

“I’m still confused.” You state.

He makes a little hum, having just swallowed his food.

“If you go to my bank, and show them this ring, and give them your fingerprint, you can withdraw from any of my personal accounts.”

You blink, your eyebrows drawing together.

After a moment you give him a confused look.

He chuckles, reaching up to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing over your tense eyebrows, encouraging them to relax.

“Any amount, little wife, any time.” He elaborates.

You blink in shock.

He was… giving you access to his money?

“Is that safe?” You ask warily.

“Planning to take all my money?” He teases.

“No! But- what if someone steals the ring… or… kidnaps me and forces me to take it?”

“That will never happen.” He promises, his fingers tightening on your cheek to reinforce his words, “As long as I’m breathing, and even if I’m not, you will always be safe.”

“You can’t stop breathing,” You fight back, leaning in to wrap your arms around him, “I won’t let you.” The words are muffled against his shirt.

He laughs.

“Noted.”

.

He grunts, his fingers curling over yours as they grip the back of the soft couch.

“Hold on.” He commands, just as he slides his amazing cock into your body.

You make a soft sound of delight, tipping your head back to rest on his chest. He groans into your ear, fucking up into you slowly and thoroughly.

His skin is hot, having spent the morning of the second day exploring the gardens outside, only to come back in and ravish you on the sitting room couch.

His left hand drops down, thick fingers find your swollen clit.

“Sing for me. Let me hear you, wife.”

You whine, the sensation of his fingers rolling over your clit makes your legs shake.

“Gonna take my cum like a good girl?” He grovels in your ear.

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding, seeing stars as he rubs your clit with more fervour.

“Fucking perfect.” He moans, and the words go right to your cunt, setting you off.

He growls in your ear when you clench around him, it only makes your orgasm last that much longer, eager to have him cum, you roll your hips on his cock.

It succeeds in working him into a frenzy, and you’re face down, with your ass in the air in the next moment.

He licks your slit harshly before his cock slides right back in, moving faster, his hips set a brutal pace, your next orgasm is like a gunshot.

He falls beside you after he comes, out of breath with a dopey grin on his face.

“What is it?” You ask curiously.

“Nothing really,” He gasps, “I just feel really fucking good.”

You smile shyly, leaning up to kiss him.

.

You’re whisking eggs for french toast when his arms wrap around you.

He presses his nose into your hair, breathing in your soft smell.

“Morning.” He grovels into your ear, feels your body shiver.

“Hello Mister Russo. Sleep okay?’

He chuckles, remembering the feel of your lips around his cock as he came last night. Fuck, you were delightfully insatiable.

“Like a rock,” He confirms, “Join me for a bath?”

“Yeah,” You agree, “Let me finish this batch and I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, little wife.” He whispers as he pulls back, reaches for an apple sitting in the basket nearby, taking a slow bite.

“I won’t. Love you.” You say absentmindedly.

Billy stops.

He turns to stare at your back in shock. You continue moving as if you haven’t said anything strange.

“What was that?” He asks.

You raise your head to glance at him.

“I’ll be right there.”

“No, the last part.”

You blink, a look of confusion on your face.

“I… love you?” 

The room goes still, the only sound is the french toast as it sizzles.

“You love me?” He asks, his heart getting heavier and lighter at an alarming rate.

“Yeah? I-I said it to you on our first night. You- you said it back.”

He did remember saying it back.

“I thought you said it accidentally.”

You pause, reaching to turn the stove off, before facing him.

“You thought my tongue slipped and I told you I loved you without meaning it?”

Billy swallows.

“I thought the number of orgasms had gotten to your head and you were saying things that might not be totally true.”

Your eyebrows raise in realisation.

“It was true. I’ve been… feeling like that for a while.”

“Like you love me.” He says dumbly.

You nod your head.

“Like I love you.” You confirm.

This wasn’t an outcome Billy had ever seen coming. Sure, he’d been hoping for fondness, that he could give you a comfortable life and you could be content by his side.

But love?

Unthought of.

“Why the fuck would you love me?” He whispers, horrified.

He’d done so many bad things, ruined your life in so many ways.

You take a careful step in his direction.

“What’s not to love? You’re smart, and strong and you go after what you want-”

“-One of those things was you.” He argues.

You laugh. He wasn’t joking.

“Yeah, how I got here wasn’t the best, but, I’m glad I am, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

He takes a step toward you, and then another, and then his arms are pulling you into a soul crushing hug.

“You love me.” He murmurs into the top of your head.

“Yes,” You reply, holding him just as tightly, “I do.”

.

“Where are we anyway?” You ask on the fourth night.

He raises his head from between your thighs.

“Europe.” He answers vaguely, before dropping his head to lap gently at your clit once more.

You smile happily, leaning back against the library desk.

“Billy?”

“Mmm?” He hums from between your thighs.

“I love you.”

You feel the breath he lets out before he pulls back. 

He kisses you, lips wet with your arousal, a tart taste on your tongue that makes you smile when he pulls away.

“I’ll show you how much I love you.” He mumbles, dropping to his knees once more.

.

Coming back to his apartment after that had felt surreal.

Like it was all a dream, the fucking best dream you’d ever had.

You’d been given a letter from your mother at the front desk, and you’d happily dropped it to the floor the minute Billy had pulled you into his arms for a slow kiss.

It was… magical, your fingers glazing through his beard, gripping his hair, the next thing you know you’re being lifted and taken to his bedroom.

The fire hadn’t left either of you, burning, sizzling sparks each time you touched, each time you held his hand or kissed his cheek.

He was all over you, inside and out, claiming you in a way you knew deep down would never be done by another.

“My wife.” He groans into your ear when he comes. 

You pant, reaching up to kiss him, legs wrapped tightly around his hips to keep him inside of you for as long as possible.

Your husband.

.

He leaves you in the early morning of the next day. It’s training day and he wants to get there early to get a jump on what he’s missed.

He kisses a path between the valley of your breasts down to your womb before he leaves, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit. You grin happily as you fall back asleep.

Later, when it’s time for you to leave for work, you find that manila envelope your mom had sent you sitting on the kitchen counter. Billy had probably picked it up from the floor where you had left it yesterday when he was leaving for work earlier.

You reach for it after you’re done hopping around to tug your heel on.

It’s unopened, so you take your time peeling it open, wondering what it was. Last time it had been a bunch of recoloured family photos, you assumed this was probably more of the same.

It’s not, it’s a stack of papers. At first, it’s odd things like flyers for bikes, and a bouncy castle rental ad. You flip through, a little concerned that your mother might be losing her mind.

Your face falls when you flip another page, and find what’s really been sent.

SUPREME COURT OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK

You could feel your heart turn to ice.

You see your name printed under Plaintiff, and under Defendant, is Billy’s. Most of your information has been filled out, including your fucking social security number. Most of Billy’s information is missing, only his real name is there.

Then you see it.

‘The grounds for dissolution of the marriage are as follows:’

Divorce papers.

These were divorce papers.

.

.

.

A/N: DON'T HURT ME THANKS

[petit-naldo]

JEALOUSY

Charles had never experienced jealousy. When you were Charles Leclerc, there were very few things you had a reason to be jealous of. Don’t get me wrong, he had his fair share of tragedies. But when it came to petty jealousy, he was kind of immune.

He had the prettiest girls, the best clothes, the best cars, the best team.

He had the prettiest girls, the best clothes, the best cars, the best team.

So it takes him a moment to realize what that burning feeling in his chest stands for.

It happens, for example, when Carlos is holding Lando's hand AND looking at him for what feels like an eternity in the hallway before the sprint. And this strange feeling makes him uncomfortable and angry, so he tries to intervene. And he does it in the stupidest way possible.

He puts his hand on their handshake. Because he's getting angrier by the second.

He just wants them to stop touching.

Of course, there are cameras capturing his stupid move.

He doesn't really know why he did it.

 He's known for a very long time that Carlos and Lando are really good friends, it never bothered him more than that. But lately they seemed to have some kind of renewed spark, giggling and hugging on the podium.

Even though Carlos said they're his two favorite teammates.

It still bothers him.

 Yeah, right. It's the fourth year, Carlos, and we've been laughing every damn day, why can't you say I'm your favorite teammate?

Maybe something changed last week in Monaco. In fact, if Charles is honest with himself, he knows exactly what ignited a little fireball in his belly. It was right after the Monte Carlo Masters final. He was talking to George and Carmen in the VIP hospitality area. George was a good friend of Lando's. Of course, because Lando was so charming. Lando sitting with a pretty blonde across the court. And George, always the first with gossip, smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"So, he’s back to girls...," Carmen laughs as if she perfectly understands what it means. And Charles frowns.

"What do you mean?"

"You know," answers George, moving his face in a suggestive way.

"Mmh, ah yeah," answers Charles, who really DOESN’T know but can’t really imagine anything besides one thing. Is Lando bi ?

He can’t keep this idea out of his head. So one night in Shanghai, while he and Carlos are sat on boxes outside the Ferrari garage, softly chit-chatting and the dusk is wrapping them in blue and purple and the frogs are starting to wake up, he tries to bring up the subject as casually as he can.

He first pushes the direction of the conversation towards the tournament.

"Weren’t you a bit disappointed? I think the semi-finals were more interesting matches."

Carlos answers and says it’s okay, but what he’d really like to do is go to Roland Garros. Watch Nadal's final game. Shit. Charles prompts again, redirecting.

"Were you with Lando?"

"No, he was with a girl." Jackpooot. He switches with what he hopes is the most casual tone he could adopt.

"Oh yeah, it’s true... by the way, ahah, George told me he was surprised because… well, he said Lando used to… date boys."

"Ah, George, such a nosy bitch," Carlos says, looking at his phone without bothering to respond any further.

Charles bites his lip. He wants his answer. He NEEDS his answer to ease the ball of fire he feels growing in his chest. Charles doesn’t know how to be subtle.

"So, Lando is bi?" he blushes because really, it’s nowhere near subtle.

"Why do you care?" asks Carlos, suddenly looking at him intensely.

Charles falters, luckily, the night is fully set upon them because his face might be close to crimson, and he blurts out the first excuse he can think of.

"A gay friend of mine has a crush on him."

He never panicked so hard, it’s weird, he’s usually a chill dude. But his heart is at the edge of his lips. A wave of heat floods him, and his breath shortens.

"Who?" Carlos asks, frowning. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"You don’t know him. From Monaco." He clings to this thread. Fortunately, his overheated mind found this excuse because Charles has no friends who know Lando and that Carlos doesn’t know, and if Carlos had realized that, it would have made the rest of the conversation very uncomfortable.

Luckily, after what feels like suffocating seconds, Carlos lets it go with a grunt and shakes his shoulders.

"Yeah, he is… well, if you consider showing up with a girl once every blue moon, being bi."

SO LANDO IS GAY???

He feels that sting, that crazy sting clouding his mind, making him act like a foolish fool and he watches himself open his mouth again to utter, "Oh...I didn’t know, if you knew."

"Ha…," scoffs Carlos, shaking his head, letting his eyes gaze into the faraway... "oh believe me, I know."

Charles knows he should shut the fuck up. But he can't because this sentence alone and the tone with which Carlos said it, stir up a thousand more questions. He should leave before it's too late. He’s already asked too much.

He isn’t close enough with Lando to keep pushing, for his curiosity to make sense.

But nonetheless he asks.

"How did you find out?"

"Mmh… " Carlos looks at him a bit surprised by his questions. Usually Charles isn't the kind to ask personal questions. "I’m not really comfortable sharing his personal stuff, Charles."

The "Charles" should be his cue to fucking stop pushing. Because Carlos said it in a way that doesn’t offer contradiction.

But he is stupid. He is the most stupid man to ever exist. So he fakes a laugh.

"Come on, Cahrlos, tell me, I’m your favorite teammate " He tries to be playful, but he so desperately needs to know that it must be really obvious in his tone. He feels cringe and shameful and immature and he wants to burry himself into the ground.

But he also wants the answer.

"Why," laughs Carlos, "your friend wants to know?"

And Charles backs down. He isn't brave enough.

"You’re right, I shouldn’t gossip like that, damn George really rubs off on me."

They keep chatting about tennis. He tries to focus on Carlos deep voice to avoid getting lost on thoughts about Lando.

But that night, as he lies in bed, the overthinking starts.

He keeps replaying the conversation, trying to extract from it every bit of info he can.

"Oh yes, believe me I know" - why this tone, why this almost tragic tone, melancholic.

Ideas start to swirl.

Did Carlos stumble upon Lando being with a boy? Did Lando make a move on Carlos? Did Carlos make a move on him? Could Carlos have done something with… no, no, no, Charles, come back to your senses.

He lies awake.

The little ball of fire starts swelling in his chest at the thought of Lando being near Carlos.

But that’s stupid.

Because Carlos is straight.

And Carlos is only friend with Lando.

He is.

Is he?

Isn’t it weird though how close and touchy they are?

Well, Carlos is a touchy guy.

But especially with Lando.

And him.

No, but it’s not the same.

Charles is straight.

Maybe after an exhausting sim session back when they were teammates he and Lando could have…

NO !

Carlos is straight.

S t r a i g h t.

But maybe he tried.

Or maybe one day he will.

Lando is not ugly.

Not as pretty as Charles, but…

Charles shakes his head.

C’mon, is he really judging other drivers’ looks now?

But then, the weekend happens and he notices Carlos staying glued to Teto.

And Carlos makes a joke about Teto being his WAG on Instagram.

Carlos is way too comfortable with every other boy around.

Charles tries to reassures himself about what ? he doesn't know.

He says to himself that it’s okay.

Because there is no one else’s waist Carlos puts his hand on while he walks.

And it was a real close hug during the shell event. No ?

What?

Jesus Christ, Charles, get your shit together. He’d really like to take some time to acknowledge what the fuck is going on inside his mind. What are his feelings for Carlos, does he really have a crush on him. That would be a very bad idea. And he is straight. As Carlos. Supposedly.

Anyway, he can’t because 90% of his brain is focused on the race and the ten other % are literally occupied by… okay, he wanted to call that rage ? But it’s that burning itch making him want to punch every man too close to Carlos. Making him want to act like an imbecile just so Carlos would look at him.

It takes up too much space in his mind to let anything else in. He scooches alongside the Spaniard anytime he can. He develops weird strategies to be sure he’s next to him during the parade.

He keeps an eye on Lando at all times. He scrolls down Teto’s Instagram and re-watches the Don’t Blink on YouTube. Clenching his teeth at the winter one. Carlos lifting him like that, like a feather.

Teto acting exactly like a wag, getting along with Sainz Sr, sitting near Carlos in restaurants,

Teto, who is actually very pretty. Shiny golden hair. Big eyes.

When Charles sees him leaning against a railing above one of the numerous ponds of the Shanghai paddock, he has the urge to throw him overboard.

Maybe a crocodile could eat him. Are there crocodiles in Shanghai ?

That way, he would never again hold Carlos’s shoulder while laughing.

Then the weekend is over.

He looks through the window of the plane. Today he flies back to Monaco. He has been a nightmare to deal with, yelling at everybody. He feels restless and irritated.

Yet the weekend has been good. Everything ran smoothly. Carlos had even congratulated him for the third place, gave him a hug. But after, at the corner of his eyes, he had seen him hugging Lando, holding him by the neck. Diving into one of their secret conversations.

And just a few hours later. He had heard they were flying back together on the same plane.

TOWARDS MONACO.

He goes to Monaco too!!! He is Monegasque! Why can’t Carlos ask him to fly with HIM? Why Lando? Always Lando! Insufferable, childish, giggly, never-won-a-race Lando!

HE is il predestinato, HE is Ferrari’s sacred child! He is nice, and every girl are at his feet.

He slides a hand over his face. He feels like he's going crazy. What is this fury burning in his chest for days?

But he doesn’t need to think about it for long.

It’s pretty obvious.

It is well…

Jealousy.

[strwbmei]

Matchup Event

Matchup for: @dukemira

Matchups: Fu Hua, Firefly, March 7th

Contains: fluff, nsfw, creampie, mentions of bondage, mentions of choking, mentions of temperature play, soft sex, public sex, mentions of nipple play

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Honestly, with Firefly's section, I have no idea how to bake so I apologize if anything is incorrect!

Ask: Long time no see I guess? Haha, anyway it's been a while and you look good, also congratulations for your 1000 followers! Okay I'll start. I will use Mira as the name, my mbti is INFJ, and my zodiac is Virgo. I'm a listener type person, I'm not speaking that much, unless the topic is interesting (or I like the topic) for me, I'll ramble so much. Many people see me as a stoic person, like I don't really care what happened later, or right now Even if it gets me in trouble. You could say I'm a hardworking person, I'll try everything to achieve what I want. If you don't mind, I would like to choose both. My first date scenario? Maybe we watch stars and aurora while drinking hot coffee and some snack (I like quiet place, irl I always go out at night like pm and go home at 3 in the morning lmao) it's just, so refreshing y'know? I'm indeed a dominant, and more into vanilla sex, soft, gentle. (Sometimes I wanna tie them up, and close their vision) (pls don't match me with male characters) The fandom Im in, honkai impact and honkai star rail.

Fu Hua

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Like you, Fu Hua often takes late-night walks to clear her mind. The day she decided to take a different route for a change of scenery, she had no idea that this choice would end up affecting the rest of her life.

: ̗̀➛ It all starts off as the both of you passing each other on a quiet, isolated street; things like you glancing at the woman the first time you saw her because of how rare it is to see someone else around these hours. The most you'd get were stray animals and the occasional taxis, and you liked it that way.

: ̗̀➛ Your overly carefree attitude towards life and Fu Hua's overly cautious and apprehensive nature perfectly balance each other out like yin and yang. Not one is greater or worse than the other; both are inseparable as are the sorrows and joys of living that you'd gladly experience with each other.

: ̗̀➛ Change is a fearsome thing. All of the insignificant differences come together until eventually, you realize that your surroundings have already changed beyond recognition. Fu Hua firmly believes in this, and yet, it was the same change that brought her to meet you. As such, you're also the one to introduce her to new things. It takes her a bit of coaxing, but she's willing to try anything as long you're with her.

: ̗̀➛ Generally speaking, the two of you have so many similarities and just as many differences. Somehow, though, you make it work. Not because you just happen to be the right person for each other, but because you want to make it right.

"Fu Hua?" Your voice breaks Fu Hua's train of thought. She'd been gazing up at the sky for a while now, reminiscing about the past as she does so. It's not something she particularly chooses to do the first dusk of every new year, but she always ends up doing it nonetheless.

"Ah, you're awake. Did I wake you when I got up from bed?" She turns to you with a somber yet warm smile on her face. Her gaze goes down to the two cups of hot chocolate in your hands and mutters a small "thank you" as she takes one of them. You shake your head in response to her question. "Mm. I just got a bit worried when I woke up and you weren't beside me."

"What are you thinking about?" You ask before taking a quick sip of your drink. The dark and rich taste is perfect for calm, quiet mornings like this. Last night was filled with celebrations and festivities, and now that they're done, the city has fallen asleep. The sun peeks out through the horizon to greet the start of the new year.

"It's nothing important. It always amazes me how quickly time can pass and bring change." Her gaze falls down onto the jewelry shop at the corner of the road. It used to be a small diner run by a nice elderly couple. They had a dog; a small Australian terrier named Winter. Ironically enough, Winter did not like the cold. She wonders where they are now and how they're doing.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, the sunlight illuminating the unlit city. Fu Hua smiles at the sound of the dogs barking; it's the one thing that has stayed constant throughout all these years. She hopes spending mornings with you like this will become one of those things as well. "Happy New Year, my love."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Very vanilla and traditional so Fu Hua thinks she should always be submissive, at least at first. She's open to trying out new things in bed. We all know that she'd be submissive regardless of her old fashioned mindset, though.

: ̗̀➛ Fu Hua is open-minded when it comes to kinks, so she's willing to try anything at least once as long as it isn't anything too extreme or unhygienic.

: ̗̀➛ She's really big on safe sex. Fu Hua is actually very educated on sex despite having little to no personal experience with it/things related to it, mostly because she's had to give her disciples "the talk" before.

: ̗̀➛ During sex is when Fu Hua is the most emotionally vulnerable. She accidentally slips out words that she'd be way too prideful to say in any other situation, says "I love you" a lot more than usual, and reaches out to hold your hands subconsciously.

: ̗̀➛ She can go for a lot of rounds, but afterwards, she's immediately falling asleep. She'll try to give you the best aftercare she can (even if you were the one on top,) with the energy she has left, but the most she can probably do is get you a glass of water and a towel.

"My love..." She sighs, desperate and needy. Her legs rest at either of your sides as your hips rut slowly and softly against hers. Slender, calloused hands rest on your back, clawing ever so slightly whenever you hit a certain spot inside of her.

The room is dimly lit with scented candles, your clothes scattered on the floor while sensual music plays in the background. A scene telling of the romance and passion between two lovers.

You adjust yourself to hit deeper inside of her, and Fu Hua sings. She sings your name like an angel gently comforting you with her embrace; soft, and loving.

Feeling yourself nearing climax, you groan her name and bury your face into the side of her pale neck. As if in unspoken understanding, her fingers reach out to intertwine with yours, and her legs wrap around your waist.

Your hips stutter, and you fill her deep with your cum. Her chest rises up and down as she catches her breath, and she looks ethereal. You're set on spending the rest of your life with her.

March 7th

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ You and March 7th are the epitome of the saying "opposites attract." Or so, people say. While that might seem true on the surface, you actually have a lot of similarities like two stars in different galaxies, shining with unique brilliance yet connected by the vastness of the universe.

: ̗̀➛ For example, the two of you like quiet places; only for different reasons. You like quiet places because you like being able to be at peace and be alone with your thoughts. March likes quiet places because she can often find you in them. She loves bustling atmospheres and the blinding city lights, but she loves you more.

: ̗̀➛ Her troubles affect her more than they seem to, and when she can't silence the negative thoughts in her head, it's you that she comes to for respite.

: ̗̀➛ There's something about you that makes March feel so... safe and secure. She feels comfortable telling you about things that she'd normally repress herself. You keep her grounded. You help her get through the bad times and replace them with good ones.

: ̗̀➛ You care for her and try to comfort her the best you can, but you don't really care about things like "who she used to be" and "what she even is." Human, alien, or even as an emanator, you'd love her all the same. What matters to you isn't her past, but the future that you can have together.

"Hehe..." March looks up at the new ring you bought for her. The cold, silver metal shines when the moonlight hits it just the right way. To her, its glint symbolizes your love and the future to come. "Do you really like the ring that much?" You ask since she's been staring at it intently ever since you first got it for her. Of course, you're flattered since you also chose it, but you know March can be a bit overdramatic sometimes.

March turns to you as soon as the question leaves your lips. "Of course! You bought it for me, after all." She smiles with pride. You chuckle at her reaction and pat her head. "I'm glad you like it, but don't dote on it too much. I can always buy you a new one, y'know?" You weren't exactly rich, but that ring wasn't exactly expensive either. It was just something you bought because it seemed to be her style.

"Sure, but every gift from you is special to me. Even if you get me an extravagant wedding ring one day, I'll still treasure all of the handwritten notes you leave me sometimes." You blush at the implications of marriage. Of course it's been on your mind too, but to hear March mention it so casually has you feeling a bit bashful.

"When that time comes, let's get a big house and a whole army of pets! Ah, but that might make it difficult for the express... What about 5? Or if Pompom allows us, 10?" You chuckle at her ambition. You can already imagine Pompom going crazy with cleaning all of the fur. Still, a future like that with her sounds quite nice.

"We'll get as many as you want, March."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ She's not a stranger to the concept of sex, but there are a lot of things that she doesn't know about it. Despite that, or maybe because of that, she's always wanted to try.

: ̗̀➛ March 7th mostly bottoms--she counts on you to take the lead since you're more knowledgeable. She can definitely be the dominant one if asked, though. Top or bottom, her main goal is for both of you to feel good.

: ̗̀➛ Getting tied up and wearing nice lingerie are her favorite things! The intricate designs make March feel prettier, so she sometimes wears them underneath her clothes just for that confidence boost.

: ̗̀➛ She's up for it anytime anywhere mostly, but she's a bit hesitant to have sex in busier places. She likes it when there's a chance of someone spotting the two of you in the act, but she doesn't want to actually get caught. That would scar her for life.

: ̗̀➛ Loves it when you get more assertive. She loves how gentle and caring you are with her, so seeing a side of you that's so different gives her whiplash in the best ways possible.

: ̗̀➛ Her nipples are the most sensitive part of her body. She could have an orgasm just from you playing with them. A close second is her neck, though. Whether you leave kisses all over it or choke it ever so slightly, you're sure to get her gushing in her panties.

"I swear to Akivili, I'm going to kill you once all this is over!" March whisper shouts, turning to face you with an angry red all over her cheeks. Whether it's from embarrassment or arousal you're not sure.

The Astral Express had been invited to a fancy dinner, and as a result, you're spending the night mingling with the other guests; mostly the bigwigs of the planet you had just arrived on.

Or so, that's how March expected the evening would go. Now she's sat on your lap, legs spread as she gets fingered by you under the table. To others, you'd merely look like a young, naive couple in love, unaware of how her cunt drips slick and clamps down on your fingers.

Everyone turns their heads towards both of you when March whimpers in the middle of her sentence. She's quick to dismiss their concerns, and you chuckle at their cluelessness, saying March is just feeling a bit nervous.

You hold her gently by her chin and press a seemingly chaste kiss on her lips, swallowing her moans as she cums all over your hand. The rest of them are left none the wiser to the filthy acts the two of you are committing behind the scenes.

March hates how good you can make her feel.

Firefly

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship is one full of secrets, but neither of you really mind. You understand that everyone has things that they wouldn't want anyone else to know, and that being their partner doesn't make you an exception.

: ̗̀➛ She doesn't question you when you come home at ungodly hours of the day. You don't question her when she comes home smelling like smoke and motor oil. You rush into each other's embrace regardless of the day you had beforehand. It gives you comfort and warmth and makes you feel like nothing else matters other than being in your lover's arms and the steady beating of their heart.

: ̗̀➛ Her favorite activity to do with you is baking! Neither of you is particularly skilled at it, but she finds the experience therapeutic and wants to share it with you. Firefly also has fun experimenting with the recipe to see what works the best.

: ̗̀➛ Firefly is a very kind and gentle partner, but only when she's awake. When the two of you are in bed together, (which is very rare considering how different your schedules are,) she becomes a heartless monster who hogs literally all of the blankets and pillows. Yes, blankets with an s. You've tried to solve this problem by getting your own, but to no avail.

: ̗̀➛ Honestly, it'd be pretty easy to take the blankets away from Firefly since she isn't very physically strong, but you can't. She just looks so peaceful asleep like this (despite leaving you vulnerable to the cold) and you know that she's tired. Hell, it's probably been a week or two since she's slept this well. You just don't have the heart.

"See, all you have to do is place the icing into the bag and..." Firefly rambles on about the techniques she uses when decorating pastries, even going as far as to give you a live example on the cake rolls the two of you were currently baking.

You cherish every second of these comfortable, domestic moments with her given how rare it is for the two of you to have the whole day to spend with each other like this.

However, there is one problem.

Earlier, you noticed that she accidentally put salt instead of sugar when making the batter. Should you tell her, or let her taste the consequences of her actions?

As you're faced with this life-threatening dilemma, Firefly looks up at you with a concerned expression and asks, "Are you okay, Mira...? We can always do this another time if you want."

For a moment, you almost take pity on her. Thinking of all the nights she took all the blankets and pillows (albeit unconsciously) and left you without protection against the cold, you make your decision. This blanket hogger must be brought to justice.

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ It's good that you're more into soft sex because that's quite literally all that Firefly can handle. Seriously. Don't go rough on her unless you want her to get sent to the hospital.

: ̗̀➛ She can get a bit insecure about this and think that you deserve someone that you won't have to restrain yourself for during sex, but you reassure her that isn't the case and that intimacy isn't the most important part of your relationship with her.

: ̗̀➛ Due to how frail she is, it takes a lot of trust for her to engage in intimacy with someone. Chances are, you're probably her first time. She trusts you to not only make her feel good, but she also trusts that you'll be gentle and respect her boundaries.

: ̗̀➛ She's more on the vanilla side, but being physically weak doesn't stop her from having a few kinks of her own. For the most part, she'd be into getting blindfolded and temperature play.

: ̗̀➛ Whether Firefly is on top or not, she's way too gentle to ever hurt you, even accidentally. She's definitely the type to ask for consent/ask if you're feeling good every 5 minutes, regardless of how horny and desperate she might be.

When Firefly walked through the door with a sense of restlessness in her footsteps, rushing to take off her coat and straddle your hips as you sat on the couch, you already knew what she wanted.

Every time she's away at work (if you can even call it that) for a long time, she comes back all tense and desperate to please you. It's her favorite way to destress, she says. Still, you can never get used to your sweet and gentle Firefly being so... lustful.

Of course, you don't mind and you'd gladly help her take her mind off work, but the contrast in her behavior never fails to catch you off guard.

She buries her face into your neck, breathing heavily as her hands fumble for the waistband of your pants. "Pants, please?" You snap out of your inner monologue and help her.

Once she looks up at you, you can't help but notice the glint in her eyes. It's... different, and hungry. You can't help but be glad that you don't have to wake up early the next morning.

[aarcanechaoss]

Theory time with Higuchi!

For anyone who wants a good read and some info on Ichiyo (Natsu) Higuchi this Reddit Post was really interesting

I first want to say I have zero evidence or reasoning behind most of this shit specifically the two abilities I’m pulling out of my ass (I do still love my Flowers at Dusk theory don’t get me wrong and a lot of the Growing Pains / Child’s Play theories are beautiful). Again these are for entertainment only I have no bets on these being real LOL

1. Draining / Absorbing

2. Her word is law

Now before I get into these (1,2) I want to bring up an interesting point seen in the Reddit Post I shared.

Specifically the Mori does not punish Higuchi part- and remembering the episodes in particular he really doesn’t. At most he is disappointed in her failure and asks if “she is suited for this job.”

Now this also made me realise (again the Reddit Post mentioned this too I found after reading further) the Command Unit is in direct line to Mori just after Executives.

Meaning she is high ranked overall in the Mafia not just amongst the Black Lizard.

She is Akutagawa’s equal - role wise in the mafia.

Why?

We know she is an ability user (not what the ability is) so is she simply well connected to Mori or is she a Secret Weapon? Or both.

Somehow she had to make it to Commander level even with the lack of respect she receives (until rescuing Akutagawa but even then they still don’t treat her like a leader).

I propose an option that also has no standing or reasoning.

She’s related to the previous boss.

Someone who didn’t have a choice to have anything but a mafioso lifestyle.

A granddaughter or a great niece etc. but let’s go with grandchild for this post- a favoured one at that- which I will get to.

Yes, this would technically mean she’s been in the mafia the longest compared to many characters (Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa etc).

I hear your “Wouldn’t Hirotsu know then?” It’s entirely possible if she is a favoured grandchild the Boss would have only wanted certain people to know about her when she was so young plus it’s not like every grandparent shares a last name with their grandchild (he could be her mother’s father).

It’s also possible if he knew the boss had a grandkid she would have been known as Natsu not Ichiyo at the time (since that is the authors real name).

And we all know I head-cannon that our girl is naturally brunette / raven haired so of course I'm adding in more plot with the name thing. Could be just for fun, maybe it was ordered, maybe it's so the people who did know about Natsu wouldn't point her out (Mori just hiding the nepotism).

In any case if this was how Mori knew her- after digging and of course killing him it’s entirely plausible that he’d 1. Look at it as an opportunity to fuck over the guy even when he’s dead 2. She’s a valuable asset because of it.

By that I mean her family name would hold power eg. she goes by Natsu (boss last name) when Mori needs something that only her family could get him.

Or she’s incredibly powerful and he’d be an idiot to not keep her. Perhaps she hates her power and he keeps that in check- she does what he says and then she doesn’t need to use it / she doesn’t have control - because less control over that means more control over her.

It’s not like she’d be his heir or anything (though that would be a funny fic idea- people trying to fight for the next in line and Mori is just like no I have a replacement it's Higuchi).

Anyway onto my not at all reasonable Ability theories.

1. Draining / Absorbing

This one was originally a "takes abilities" theory- which has absolutely no merit being a theory at all unless for whatever reason Asagiri decides that she and Dazai have been secretly related the whole time.

In the Reddit Post OP theorises that she could paralyse her opponents using her novella Takekurabe (Comparing Heights) with the English titles Growing Up and Child’s Play as the forefront. Though I’ve seen the use of the title Growing Pains instead of Up as well.

Using OP's word's, I don't think Higuchi will have a name-based ability (eg. Beast Beneath the Moonlight or Thou Shalt Not Die) and so for this crack theory I'm also using Growing Pains / Childs Play.

I suggest that she can drain or absorb abilities instead- leaving her opponents with a dull aching because a part of them is practically gone should she drain an ability to its dredges. She could probably kill someone if she wasn’t careful and took too much.

Think Rogue from X-Men.

That would make her a formidable enemy to have and an even better secret weapon.

It would also make her just another tool like Dazai was- instead of halting an ability she practically takes it away (which is plausible if we really dug into it, but this is more she takes the power or energy involved in using the ability).

Where did this idea even come from you ask?

Honestly no clue but I was trying really hard to figure out what possible ability she could have, and I have landed on it must be powerful and this would absolutely be an ability that she would hide until necessary. It would also be a play on the novella titles instead of simply going Child's play= dolls= voodoo doll ability for example (mostly because that's kind of Q's ability) but more a play on how for some people transitioning into adulthood is draining and not as fun as when the world was too big for us.

2. Her word is Law

Okay this is also a stretch just so we are clear BUT I think it's more plausible than draining / absorbing. I don't really know which title I'd give this one because I'm leaning again to a more a non-name-based ability (eg. No Longer Human or Plum Blossom in the Snow) so for the fun of it lets call this Flowers at Dusk (Yamizakura- yes, the one I usually use in Fics).

When I say her word is law I don't mean legally speaking- think Jessica / Paul Atreides or the Reverend Mother from Dune and how they use 'the voice'.

This ability came to mind since Ichiyo Higuchi is an important figure in Japan, though it wasn't like she would be able to sway politics or anything of the like. Her works are important, the words in the stories are significant. Key word, words.

This would be a valuable power worth keeping hidden and close to the chest, she would make her way up the ranks fast with such an ability and more than likely she'd be a great asset in regard to interrogations.

Mori would absolutely keep this ability a secret and keep her close because of it. Let's play into the idea that she hates or is afraid of her ability, a power that takes away others free will or control would be hard to deal with depending on your mental fortitude or upbringing.

If she said jump you would jump, if she said kill you would kill.

She'd be the perfect secret weapon with an ability like this especially if no one else knew and she got kidnapped- whoops they didn't put on ability suppressors ...oh hey where did she go?

I feel like this is a plausible option- only because we know nothing but that she is an ability user. It would make sense for her to be closer to Mori- he'd ensure she would never use the ability on him and considering people underestimate her already it would be an uppercut of a power to have and no one (but Dazai or those who are deaf I suppose) would be able to get away from it.

We'd really have to get into the meat of this ability and flesh out weaknesses par her voice box and No Longer Human. Is it the vibrations in her voice? Does she need a key word? Can she only use it on a certain number of people at a time? Could she pinpoint who isn't going to be affected if it were with a large group.

For example- The Black Lizard get cornered, and she needs to use her ability would her yelling STOP, MOVE BACK or FREEZE (any key words really) affect Gin, Hirotsu, Tachihara or Akutagawa?

Can you tell I like this idea for an ability lol.

Well, I think this post has been long enough. Let me know your thoughts as well, which one do you like better? Do you have any theories for what Higuchi's ability could be? Which book title do you think Asagiri will choose when we get to finally see what her ability is?

[edenmemes]

tloz: twilight princess (manga) starters

❝ i was shattered. i lost everything. ❞ ❝ i warned you not to take me lightly. ❞ ❝ we’re partners, aren’t we? ❞ ❝ ever since we’ve met, you’ve been disobedient and rude. ❞ ❝ take suffering as your companion, and unease and fear as friends. if you do, darkness will become light. ❞ ❝ it’s a cold world out there. you’ve gotta learn to trust folks. ❞ ❝ as you stand before me now, you’re all desperation and bravado. that is not true bravery. ❞ ❝ you can’t change your past and you can’t change who you were. you can only decide who you’re going to be. ❞ ❝ resentment is a trap of the heart into which everyone falls. ❞ ❝ you don’t look well. are you ill? ❞ ❝ you were born into life with a destiny. you cannot run away from that. ❞ ❝ you carry a smouldering darkness inside you. ❞ ❝ it’s considered impolite not to give your all in a fight. ❞ ❝ at dusk and dawn...it’s easy for all sorts of things to sneak by. ❞ ❝ since that day, so much has changed for me. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry. it’s been hard, huh? ❞ ❝ a true hero must shoulder a heavy responsibility. ❞ ❝ stay calm. move cautiously and remain vigilant. ❞ ❝ one more time. try telling the truth. ❞ ❝ why keep fighting until you’re just a broken wreck? ❞ ❝ if we start a fight, we must be ready to hit back. ❞ ❝ in the end, it’s easier just to be selfish. ❞ ❝ i was lost without you. i was lonely. ❞ ❝ why do i so often taste this sense of loss? ❞ ❝ i think both our journeys are pointing to the same place. ❞ ❝ power does not inhabit a blade without bravery. ❞ ❝ did you hear something? like the cry of a beast... ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? if you’re too weak, then just leave. ❞ ❝ what is strength? is it displays of power mocking the weak? destroying beauty simply to satisfy your greed? ❞ ❝ you get too worked up over things. ❞ ❝ easy for you to say. i’m the one getting beat up. ❞ ❝ i don’t need thanks. i didn’t do it for you. ❞ ❝ depending on your attitude...i might be able to help. ❞ ❝ if you don’t do as i say, i’ll take your arm off. ❞ ❝ as leader, i will not choose the path of pain and death for my people. i must protect them. ❞ ❝ strength isn’t about power...it’s about being brave. ❞ ❝ you have good eyes. the eyes of a proud beast. ❞ ❝ if the need arises, i will not hesitate to pick up a sword and fight. ❞ ❝ i guessed you had a secret past.   people can try to hide it, but nature shows through. ❞ ❝ i was lying when i said i’d never held a sword.❞ ❝ there’s no time for sentimentality. ❞ ❝ if someone comes in who knows about your past, i’ll protect you if they try to hurt you. ❞ ❝ is there something strange about me? ❞ ❝ be careful...there have been monsters around here lately. ❞ ❝ choose...surrender or die. ❞ ❝ when i feel uneasy or afraid i just think: ‘this is my mission’. ❞ ❝ don’t take me for nothing more than a fine doll good only for decoration. ❞ ❝ i’m nothing more than dirt. i’m not worth all that effort. ❞ ❝ why do you think we’re any safer here? ❞ ❝ don’t die on me now. ❞ ❝ ha! even you have a good idea sometimes. ❞ ❝ i fought through all kinds of monsters to get here...and i survived. ❞ ❝ i’ve spent so long looking for you! i’m so glad you’re safe. ❞ ❝ people are always hovering over me...and it’s so suffocating! ❞ ❝ some detours lead to unexpected good luck. ❞ ❝ you say whatever you think...i’ve never done that. ❞ ❝ there is no greater joy than helping a friend. ❞ ❝ what do you mean ‘never mind’? ❞ ❝ these days such peaceful travels are rare indeed. ❞ ❝ wildly rushing into danger isn’t courage. ❞ ❝ didn’t you say there’s something you need to do, no matter what it takes? ❞ ❝ i sense unprecedented danger approaching. ❞ ❝ how do you feel now, looking back upon yourself at that time? ❞ ❝ as usual, you’re a wimp. ❞ ❝ resentment is dangerous. it comes in through the slightest crack in your heart. ❞ ❝ i’d go to the ends of the earth for you. ❞ ❝ it really hasn’t been that long, but you’ve grown into a fine man. ❞ ❝ now is the time for us to take back all that was stolen. ❞ ❝ one thing’s certain --- those aren’t human. ❞ ❝ what do you fight to protect? answer. ❞ ❝ i wish you wouldn’t do such dangerous things. ❞ ❝ if you got hurt due to my mistakes...i don’t think i could live with that. ❞ ❝ why would you do all that...when we’ve only just met? ❞ ❝ it’s a pretty name. perfect for you. ❞ ❝ once your wounds heal, you’ll need to leave right away. ❞ ❝ the hero on his knees! quite a sight. ❞ ❝ how does it feel to be so strong? quite a rush, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ you’re all puffed up on your own arrogance...drunk on your own pride. ❞ ❝ i once wondered how good you are...now i see you’re really skilled. ❞ ❝ i’m not physically strong like you...but my wits, brains and analysis can be helpful. ❞ ❝ don’t say you can’t accept that this is the end. ❞ ❝ you just want to satisfy your own ambition and lust for power. ❞ ❝ it’ll be all right because we’re together. ❞ ❝ why would you leave me at a time like this? ❞ ❝ for the first time i feel like i’m overflowing with incredible power. ❞ ❝ there’s no time for doubt. you are the chosen one. ❞ ❝ your problem is that you demand absolute perfection. ❞ ❝ there is no easy path. but you can definitely overcome it. ❞ ❝ i’m so very sorry. i broke my promise. i hurt you. ❞ ❝ that’s the spirit. hate me more. only then will this fight be worthwhile. ❞ ❝ i thought you were dead. ❞ ❝ well...? say something. or has my beauty left you speechless? ❞ ❝ i never forgot you. not for one moment. ❞ ❝ sorry for killing the mood. ❞ ❝ light and shadow are two sides of the same coin. one cannot exist without the other. ❞ ❝ if you desire something...then that is my desire too. ❞ ❝ who says i’m afraid of you? ❞ ❝ your weapon is little better than a toy. ❞ ❝ all that awaits you is despair. ❞ ❝ i’ve done the unforgivable. i betrayed you. ❞ ❝ i’m here to repay you for what you’ve done. ❞ ❝ since i’ve met you, we’ve travelled a long way...and a lot has happened. ❞ ❝ are you on a journey of self-discovery? ❞ ❝ that was a great strike. if i was a hair slower, you’d have gutted me. ❞ ❝ when i was young, i wanted to be a hero. ❞ ❝ your struggle is futile. ❞ ❝ as you can see, i know how to fight. ❞ ❝ my hatred toward you will not be satisfied by merely killing you once or twice. ❞ ❝ you’ve been through a lot. ❞ ❝ whose side are you on? light or shadow? ❞ ❝ if you run then we’re done for! fight to survive! ❞ ❝ i’m not strong enough. not good enough. ❞ ❝ i must crush your bones, rip out your organs and relish your lingering cries of pain. ❞ ❝ that was close, huh? ❞ ❝ rest now. you don’t have to fight any more. ❞ ❝ i bear this sword so i can protect my home in times like this. ❞

[oneshotnewbie]

What if Marina x daughter!reader are chillin at home together when Maya gets called to a 5alarm fire. Reader has major anxiety when Maya goes to big fires. Carina tries to calm her down, but gets called in to help with patients being sent to GreySloan from the fire. Reader has to come with Carina to the hospital and sees some of those injured in the ER before making it to Carinas office. Reader begins to follow all the news alert from the fire and starts to panic and worry for Maya. She’s in the midst of a full panic attack by the time Carina can check on her. Maya comes to the hospital with the last of the patients and goes to Carinas office and only then does reader begin to calm down, surrounded by her mothers.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Dusk fell over the city as Maya, Carina and you decided to spend a cozy evening at home, cooking together and enjoying the free time as a family. The atmosphere was one of heartwarming laughter and the familiar smell of delicious ingredients.

Maya had taken the evening off to spend more time with you. Her job as a firefighter often involved unpredictable events and long working days, which is why such evenings together were particularly precious for your little family. The three of you worked in sync in the kitchen as the sound of happy chatter and laughter permeated the walls. You helped prepare the ingredients while the blonde prepared the aromatic lasagna sauce and made plans for after dinner.

A colorful sight spread across the airy kitchen. Fresh vegetables, fragrant herbs and a variety of spices covered the work surface. The food processor whirred while the Italian woman prepared the dough for fresh pasta. You, stood behind her to look over your mother's shoulder with curious eyes and pick up some tips.

“It smells so good!” You whispered enthusiastically and the two smiled at you, Carina briefly pulling you close to place a kiss on your temple. "It'll taste really good too, Bella."

The smell of garlic, onions and fresh tomatoes filled the kitchen and mixed with the pleasant atmosphere as you and Maya started to set the dining table. Time seemed to stand still as you sat down a short while later and approached the home-made meal that was filled with love. "You really have a talent for the kitchen, y/n. Maybe you should think about becoming a chef." Carina said, clearly proud of you, and you laughed. "Maybe I will. Or I'll become a firefighter. Or at least a surgeon.."

But before everyone could take the first forkful of lasagna, the shrill sound of Maya's radio pierced the harmonious silence. All three froze for a moment before the blonde looked around apologetically, narrowing her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I have to check this. It's an emergency call," she explained as she stood up and hastily searched for the device that was lying on the living room table. "A serious fire in a high-rise building requires 19 to be present immediately."

The joy in the air seemed to fade as the reality of Maya's responsibilities as a firefighter became present again. You looked over at her worriedly as she hurried into the bedroom and put on her firefighter uniform before saying goodbye to you with a quick kiss on the forehead to face the unknown of the new mission. "I love you guys. I'll be back as soon as possible."

With a final, determined look, she left the house, leaving you with a fearful heart. The laughter stopped and the kitchen, which had previously been filled with joy, now seemed quiet and deserted.

For the next minutes, your home became enveloped in nervous tension. You could already see the images of the blazing flames and the sound of the sirens in your mind, unable to get them out of your head. Your fear seemed to grow stronger with each emergency call. The idea of your mother having to fight fire in dangerous situations put you in a constant state of fear and panic.

Carina clearly sensed your fear and tried to calm you down with all her care. She would often sit with you and talk about the importance of Maya's job and how she was well trained and experienced. But your thoughts weren't so easy to calm down. Your fears enveloped you like a thick fog that made your heart feel heavy. "Amore mio, I promise you, Maya knows her job very well. She is strong and has the right training. You have to trust her."

You nodded, but the look of pure panic remained in your eyes as your heart pounded wildly in your chest and your body began to tremble. You couldn't keep your mind off your mother. Every time Maya was called to a new mission, your heart clenched with worry and you could hardly breathe. The persistent fear that permeated you overshadowed the present.

"She'll be back safely. You don't have to worry, okay? The safety of the team members at Station 19 is the top priority for everyone involved," she tried again, trying to ease the uncertainty in your eyes and complete the dinner. "Mom is a professional at what she does."

The smells of the now cold dish disappeared and your mind continued to wander when another beeper rang. This time it was Carina's. It was another emergency call that forced your other mother to come to work in the emergency room.

"I have to go to the hospital, sweetheart. The patients affected by the fire are being taken to Grey Sloan. I'm needed," she explained softly, her brow furrowing as she placed a hand on your shoulder. The words triggered another wave of panic in you that you could no longer suppress. "Please, not you too. Please stay here. I'm so scared. Please!"

“Hey, hey, hey,” she spoke carefully and stood up, pulling you into a tight hug. The gentle sway of her arms barely stopped your running tears, your body trembling in her arms. "If it calms you down, you can come with me and read some books in my office. I don't want to leave you alone with your fears."

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sun had already set when you and Carina rushed into the busy emergency room at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. The panic in your eyes reflected the constant fear for your mother. Carina held your hand tightly, trying to calm you down as she navigated you down the hallway.

The atmosphere in the emergency room was intense. Doctors and nurses rushed from one patient room to the next while paramedics carried in the injured. The smell of disinfectant and the muffled murmur of conversation filled the air. You could feel the knotting tension inside you, getting worse by the second as you walked past the beds filled with people with burns and serious injuries. The image of Maya and the chance of her also ending up in the hospital injured like the rest of the people crept into your mind and your heart began to ache with fear once more.

Your mother led you to her office on the top floor, which was shielded from any hectic activity. "You can safely wait here, love. I'll see what's going on and make sure mom comes upstairs to you as soon as she returns from her mission."

You nodded and slowly walked into the room. Carina gently squeezed your shoulder again before leaving the office and heading back to the emergency room, leaving you alone.

Sitting on the chair next to the door, you tried to organize your thoughts. The images of the injured people in the emergency room were burned into your memory. A tingling sensation ran through your body and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The hum of muffled conversation filtered through the closed door as you watched the time and waited for your mothers. The scenes played out in your head of your mom fighting the flames and your mother caring for the injured. The thought of your mothers operating in this chaos increased your fears.

The time in the hospital crept by slowly, and your thoughts continued to revolve around your parents, especially Maya. You couldn't suppress the worry inside you, so you began meticulously monitoring the messages on your phone as you paced around the room. As the first reports of the fire came to you, you felt your fear building at a rapid pace.

With every word you read, another tidal wave of panic seemed to build. The images of fire and smoke described on the news hit you like a blow. You could literally feel the burning intensity of the flames burning your skin.

Your heart was racing, your hands were shaking, and your breathing was becoming shallower. The news reports seemed to confirm your worst fears, and the idea that your mom, Maya, was in the middle of a dangerous inferno almost made you lose your mind. But then the door opened and Carina stepped in. Her expression was serious, but the change in your features made her rush to you immediately. "Y/n, Bella. What happened?"

You could barely find your words as you turned over your phone to see the newscaster exclaiming about the terrible news. "Mom's still in there. She's in danger."

Carina tried to stay calm herself to stabilize you. She hugged herself tightly and walked with you to her desk, your eyes fixed on the closed door, hoping that Maya would soon be at your side as the relentless clock continued to tick. "Mi amore, the media often tends to be more dramatic in its reporting. Let's wait for official news before drawing conclusions, okay? If something had happened to her, Andy or Jack would have already called."

The brunette's words barely reached your frightened soul. The dark panic attacked and overwhelmed you with full force, and you felt the world around you begin to spin. Your chest felt tight and the world blurred before your eyes.

You sat on a chair, surrounded by white walls that, in your agitated state, looked like the shadowy scene of a nightmare. The brightness of the hospital lights seemed ominous, and the silence of the room was overshadowed by the deafening sounds of your own fears.

Thoughts of Maya's possible danger lost all reason. Every time you tried to breathe deeper, the air seemed to disappear like a scarce resource, and the flames of fear only flickered higher. Your gaze was blank and frozen, caught in a whirlpool of terror and worry.

Carina reacted immediately and pushed you into her desk chair. She tried to calm you down while you were overwhelmed. "Breathe with me, sweetheart. Inhale deeply and exhale slowly. I'm here, love." she whispered softly.

The panic attack was reaching its peak, but with each calming touch and empathetic word, the wave seemed to slowly subside. The Italian kneeled down in front of you and placed her hands gently on your knees. "Y/n, listen to me. We can do this together. We will erase this fear together." The words were difficult to reach you, but she didn't let go of it. She tried to calm you down with slow breaths. You gasped for air, but gradually, the control of your breathing returned.

Time stretched, and with every breath you fought your way out of the shackles of panic. The cries of fear became quieter and your vision gradually cleared. Carina held you tightly as the last remnants of fear coursed through you.

While your mother slowly got you back to normal breathing, Maya entered the emergency room exhausted, accompanied by the last patients of her risky fire mission. The experiences of today's fight against the flames had left them scarred.

The sounds of the emergency room came through the front door as she pushed herself through the crowd. She felt the exhaustion in her bones, but the thought of seeing her daughter and her wife again was the only bright spot after the tiring hours. Climbing the stairs to the upper floor, she soon entered her wife's office. You both looked up as the door opened suddenly, a relieved smile lighting up your features. "Mom, you're back!"

Maya nodded tiredly, her uniform marked by smoke and ash as you rushed into her arms. "How are you doing?" She asked you, but you didn't answer and instead snuggled closer to her. A questioning look rushed over her face and she pressed her lips together before looking at Carina, who stood up and immediately walked up to her. "She had a severe panic attack when news of the fire first surfaced. I calmed her down, but she was very worried about you."

Her heart clenched and she pulled away from you. Not hesitating for a second, she placed her fingers under your chin and forced you to look up at her. Your eyes were bloodshot and your cheeks were still wet from crying. "I'm here, y/n. Everything's fine, see?"

You sobbed quietly, the tears trapped in your panic now flowing with a sense of relief as you took a deep breath. The pent-up tension slowly let go. "I was so scared, mom. The news... I thought you..."

Maya held you closer to her. The three of you stood close together, soaked in the warmth of reunion. The flames of fear in your heart were extinguished, and in that moment you found comfort and support in her arms. "I'm here, and I'm safe. You don't have to worry."

[solas-backpack-mug]

i have a headcanon that the dalish have a fun holiday called fen'vallan - wolf's dusk. the idea of this holiday is "we haven't been fucked over by the dread wolf yet! yay! also beware of him"

i like to imagine the inner circle visiting clan lavellan regarding some Important Mission and they get invited to fen'vallan

solas is nervous. really nervous. lavellan assumes he's anxious about making a good first impression on her family (with him being her lover and all)

he has to sit there while the keeper talks shit about him and warns everyone about an individual that vaguely resembles him. and he can't be that mad about it all, especially when they say stuff like "the dread wolf is deceitful and sneaky" while he's right there. being deceitful and sneaky

classic solas behavior. exquisite

[miley1442111]

Hii I hope you’re having a good day/night,

I was thinking could you do some hcs/fic/whatever you see best fit with Spencer Reid and a male (or ng) model reader? I think that would be pretty funny ahahha

Btw love how you write! <3

thank you so much! i hope you enjoy :)

spencer reid x gn model!reader hcs :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok so I’m personally thinking like early seasons Spencer…

So backstory:

so you two meet at something really random, like you’re picking up your friend from their lecture and he’s just there giving the lecture with Gideon or something.

You actually laugh at his jokes (bc ur not just a pretty face, duh) and you kinda catch his eye

You lowkey corner him… but it’s for a good cause and he reciprocates immediately!!!

You two go out on a few dates and then ur dating!!! :)))))))))))

The team has no clue you two are going out together until you post a picture and Penelope (who obviously follows you already) notices a certain person in the reflection…

The teasing NEVER ENDS. Morgan will not let it go. 

Ultimately they’re all happy Spencer has someone. 

So real hcs

Spencer and you obvi don’t get to spend so much time together since you’re always away on shoots and he’s on cases. 

But when you do spend time together he’s like the most cuddly, cute thing ever :(

He’s always just reading things from his memory as you two just cook or like, sit together.

He’s smiling whenever you hug or kiss him because he just can’t believe you're his!

He ALWAYS has his hands on you when you’re together. 

He has a certain paparazzo that he’s named his personal enemy no.1 because he’s a douche who’s constantly trying to take pictures of you at bad angles.

He obviously despises the paparazzi with a passion, especially one particular photo of the two of you kissing after a night out (aka Morgan printed it out 100 times and posted it all around the Quantico building)

As your relationship progresses (aka you get engaged!) He goes to more and more events with you and he looks so handsome in his suits !

He asked you to marry him in the sweetest way possible. It was like dusk during the winter and you were hiding from the world in your small cottage holiday home in Lake Tahoe. He just got down on one knee and asked, you both cried.

He is your personal hype man, like he loves anything you wear.

You’re just so perfect in his eyes! He loves you so much 🥰

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

also i love this idea so much, i might turn it into a series... ?

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)