#Light and white elements are really hard for me to do

[purrpurr-block]

I was going to draw bdubs' nether hub today and BAM he releases a video on it and I can screenshot all the details! Yay! The finished hub looks even more gorgeous than I imagined

[writingslob]

(Part 2) Lin Ling's guide to becoming an emotional support civilian [YANDERE EDITION]

[TO BE HERO X] x [LIN LING] [Part 1; Part 3 can be found here!]

Context warning: Cursing

Author's note: Finally! I'm finished! This took a hot second, but I hope you guys enjoy this as much as the 1st one!

Once again, thank you @kiraisrika for the idea! [ Also, @izarosf1833, you now owe me your firstborn. I'll be expecting it by mail on Wednesday >: ) ]

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Lin Ling was having one hell of a weird day.

Not a bad day, not a good day. 

Just a weird day. 

Following Miss Juan and her crew into the lobby of Hero’s Tower. (His heart was beating frantically in his chest. He can feel his inner child fist-bumping the air because he’s finally here! After all these years, he’s here-!) He can’t help but try to get out of Nice’s grasp, his white hair tickling his jaw. “Man, can you like” —stop clinging to me like a koala— “not?” No matter how hard he tugged, Nice’s grasp was as hard as steel. 

“Nope!”

And that was that. 

The elevator ride was an equally awkward affair—the only sounds being the dull music, tapping of nails on tablet, and the light breaths of everyone in the elevator. The only one who wasn’t awkward was Nice, but Lin Ling, drunk off of hysteria and exhaustion, suspected that he had taken something and was high off his rocker, if only to make sense of this nonsensical situation. 

Like he knew he had ‘relaxation powers,’ but his number wasn’t nearly high enough for this! Hell, it wasn’t even affecting Miss Juan and the other men who were standing at arm’s length of him! Really, the only thing his powers should be doing is offering the same calming effects as lavender, not acting like…like-like catnip to drug-addicted cats! 

‘Holy shit, I compared Nice to a drug-addicted cat. What is my life?’ 

“We’re here,” Miss Juan announced, breaking him out of his thoughts before they could spiral even further. Stepping out into the apartment, he looks around, and he has to admit.

It sucks. 

Now, when he imagined a superhero’s apartment, and one belonging to the 15th hero at that, he imagined something grand, with white walls lined with gold and classical elements strung around to give it a real luxurious, Victorian feel. But even without those expectations, this is just a sad apartment. What with its barren walls devoid of life, not a single small plant to liven the space, and the less said about the gaudy, grandiose statue in the middle, the better. 

“Do you like it?” Nice ask, turning to look at him. Lin Ling doesn’t know what face he is making, but it must have shown his true feeling as Nice barks out a laugh. “Yeah, me neither.” He perks up. “But! Since you’ll be living here from now on, you can redecorate all you want! No budget! Here, let me give you a tour.” Detaching himself only to immediately grab onto his hand, Nice floats into the sky and begins to tug him when-

“Not so fast.” A hand shot out and grabbed onto Nice’s cape, yanking him back down to the ground. “We don’t have time for house tours. You two are coming with me and are going to sign enough papers to make your hands bleed, do you understand?” All Lin Ling can do is nod. Nice rolls his eyes, but they both dutifully follow Miss Juan as she leads them to the office. 

The office was just as sparsely decorated as the rest of the house, with only two white couches facing each other, a long glass table in between, and bookshelves sandwiching everything together. The only good part was the window wall, letting in enough light that they didn’t need to turn on the lights if they wanted to. 

Sitting stiffly on one couch with Nice and Miss Juan on the other, what ensued was a full hour and a half of back and forth between Nice and Miss Juan that was one blow away from a full-blown fistfight. He also had to sign enough papers to—like she said—make his hands bleed. 

His vision started blurring around the fifth paper, and by the 20th, his eyes were gorilla-glued together. It took all his strength not to faceplant into the stack of papers and sleep away the next year and then some.

“- He will not be joining you in your stunts with Wreck. How many times do I have to tell you before you get it through your thick skull?! “And how many times do I have to tell you that if he’s not joining me, I’m out! Permanently! What? Do you want me to spell it in blood? I’ll do it!” “Oh, for the love of God, you are acting like a child!” “And you’re acting like a bitch!” “You-!”

Okay, that’s it. “Can I go to the bathroom?” He asked quietly and flinched slightly as both snapped their heads at him. “Fine. Be quick.” “I’ll go with you!” They both said simultaneously. Miss Juan intensified her glare at Nice, but he was already getting up from the couch to follow him. 

“Huh? What? No! I- Thank you, but I really don’t want you following me to the bathroom.” Realizing a beat too late that it sounded a tad too rude, he awkwardly tacked on “Besides, you two still need to finish up...whatever you guys were talking about! Don’t worry! I’ll be back in a flash!” 

Nice narrows his eyes, looking like he wants to argue further. After a second and a half of silence, Nice sighs.

“Promise?” Lin Ling nodded in rapid succession, “Promise!”

He jogged out of the office. The door clicks softly behind him. Not looking back, he runs.

He didn’t know where he was headed, and frankly didn’t care. This wasn’t how his day was supposed to turn out. He was supposed to be at work, hunched over his computer as he edited frame by frame, or he was supposed to be in his boss's office, getting yelled at over his promo videos. Or, he was suppose to be at the ledge, looking death in the face before chickening out and going back to his shitty one bedroom apartment to enjoy another cup noodle dinner.

He wasn’t supposed to be here—why was he even still here in the first place? He should just take the elevator down and go back home. Leave this all behind him and—

“Hey! Cheer up!”

The elevator was in sight; just a few more steps to get there. But, even if deaf and blind, he would recognize that voice anywhere. Turning his head, he saw a blimp outside, displaying. 

“....Moon?”

“Being alive means experiencing many challenges, but please, don’t lose faith!”

Moon voices wash over him, and he can’t help but remember the long nights spent at his desk—the only light coming from the bright LED monitor in front of him, burning his eyes with its glow, and how the only thing that kept him going was her encouragement.

Does he want to leave Nice?

Sure, the last few hours were the most overwhelmed he has ever felt and sure, Nice was- well pushy was to put it mildly. But, does he really want to leave? Leave Nice and go back home to no one?  Continue his life like this never happened?

You don’t have a responsibility to Nice.

No, he doesn’t; he knows that. But… Nice’s mental state is clearly in tatters, and if his presence—if his ability—can bring him some peace, then he’ll stay. He may not be a hero, but if he can help one person, then that’ll be enough. 

If Lin Ling can be a hero to one person, that’ll be enough.

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Stepping back into the room (he did genuinely need that bathroom break), he was surprised to find the place as neat as when he first walked in. Honestly, he was expecting a war zone. 

Miss Juan looked like someone had pulled multiple teeth out of her—scowling and rapidly typing something away on her table. Meanwhile, Nice looked like he just caught the canary. His smile was wide, smug, and real. (Looking at it, he can’t help but compare it to all the others he's seen before- plastered on billboards and ads. He never noticed how fake they were before.) “You came back.” Nice tilts his head to look at him, his smile softening. 

Lin Ling tilted his head back at him. Of course he did. “Of course I did,” he answers simply, taking a seat back on the couch. Nice wastes no time in scooting over until their bodies touch. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Nice’s tense body relaxing, his shoulder slumping, and his perfect posture faltering just a bit. 

“Ehm,” Miss Juan cleared her throat, breaking Lin Ling out of his train of thought. He turns back to her, “We finally managed to draft up a final contract for your—” Wait, what? “Hold on, what were the ten million other papers I signed before for then?” She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “NDAs, of course. Since you will be living here, you are bound to see other superheroes and their teams. So, you have to sign an NDA for every single one of them.”

“Now this—” She waves a single white paper up in the air before placing it on the table. Nice reaches out to straighten it out while she continues, “—is an offer of employment to join Treeman Corp as Nice’s emotional support civilian. Inside, I have outlined all of the benefits you will receive when you join us.”

Yeah, that makes sense- Hold on. Snatching the paper off the table, his eyes skimmed to- Holy shit, there it is. Written in bold black ink. 

“EMOTIONAL SUPPORT HUMAN!? Why is that the name!?” He stares up incredulously at Miss Juan, only for Nice to reply.

“It fits, no?” He cocks his head as he skims the contract. “Originally she wanted your title and job to be one of a personal assistant, but!” His smile widened, bordering on blinding. “You will not have to lift a single finger as long as you stay by my side! So, we changed it to this!”

“…”

“Do you like it?”

“…Just hand me the pen.”

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Lin Ling was starting to get nervous. 

After signing the contract (He tried getting the name changed to anything- anything else, but, coupled with Nice’s puppy eyes and Miss Juan pointedly looking at the clock, he gave up and just accepted his fate, his embarrassing, embarrassing fate), Miss Juan immediately chaperoned them to True Love Recipe’s studio where they were shoved into the makeup room with what he assumed to be the script and were told to wait for the makeup artist. 

They were told that 30 or so minutes ago at 7:00 pm.

It was now 7:43 pm

The show starts at 8.

Lin Ling was getting anxious, and from the sound of Nice reshuffling every item on the desk and him glancing at his phone every minute, so was he. 

“Shouldn’t the makeup artist be here by now?” Nice looked up, offering a reassuring smile to Lin Ling. “Don’t worry, he’s often late, so this isn’t out of the norm for him.” He gnaws on his lip, glancing at his phone. “Still,” He presses, “It might be a good idea to do your own makeup, Nice. Just in case he’s a no-show.”

Nice hums, “I should." He pauses, "There is a problem, however.” Holding up a finger, he turns to Lin Ling with an almost embarrassed smile, “I don’t know how to do makeup.”

“For real?” “Yes.” He turns back to the assorted makeup, picking up two of the nearest bottles. “It shouldn’t be too hard, though, it’s just blush and cream, right?” Lin Ling couldn’t help but snort, the sound making Nice blush a faint pink. “Here,” Getting up from the couch, he walks over and plucks the two bottles out of his hands. “Sit, I’ll do it for you.” Nice stared at him in shock before immediately slamming himself down into the chair. 

Leaning in close, he can’t help but marvel at how smooth his face is, not an acne scar in sight. This will make his job real easy then. Looking at the makeup supplies on the desk, he picks up a highlight and contour palette along with a big bristle brush. Opening the thing up, he begins to paint.

He should keep the makeup light, he muses to himself as the soft, repetitive motion of blending and smoothing things out lulls him into a trance, just enough so the stage lights won’t wash him out. Stepping back half a step and deeming the contour complete, he picks up a blush to continue the process.

Nice observes him with half-lidded eyes, “You’ve done this before.”

“Mmph,” he nods, carefully applying the blush. “A coworker of mine got really sick and begged me to fill in for them as the makeup artist for some small commercial. Feeling bad, I agreed.” A grimace tugged on his face as he further recalled the memory. “My boss got on my ass about it, though. Assigned me so much work after because ‘-If you have the time to play around with dress-up, you have the time to finish these by Monday!’ God, I had to pull so many all-nighters to finish those.” During his semi-rant, he didn’t notice how Nice’s eyes narrowed into slits, his hands clenching into fists.

“Why didn’t you quit?” 

Lin Ling freezes for half a step, his hand reaching for the gloss. He laughs, “Well, because I liked the job.” He starts, turning around with the gloss in his hands. Bending in closer, he uncaps the lid. “Sure, it wasn’t my dream to work there, and my boss was an absolute grade A asshole, but,” Tilting Nice’s chin up, he began to apply the lip gloss, the stick sliding across Nice’s lips, leaving them shiny and plump. “I always wanted to help, and what’s better than to help out heroes from behind the scenes?”

(He doesn’t mention the fact that his actual want was to be a hero, to punch bad guys and save innocents. He doesn’t mention the fact that when he was a child, he would look up at heroes like Nice and want.) Dammit, a bit of the gloss got onto his skin. Swiping it off with his thumb, he steps back to admire his work and—

Nice’s face was red. Pure tomato red.

Shit “Did I hurt you?" Fuck, fuck, fuck "I am so sorry! What do I do!? Are you allergic to something!? Hold on, let me go find a doctor!” Turning around, he was about to sprint before a hand shot out to stop him.

“...No, I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.” Turning back around, Nice’s once tomato-red face has calmed to a dusty pink. “Still, shouldn’t you get checked out? I'm sure I can find a doctor before the show starts.” Lin Ling argued. Nice’s mouth opened to retort when-

Miss Juan bursts into the room, tablet in hand. 

“What’s taking so long!?” She demands, “We’re airing in 5! Get your asses on set!” 

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Oh, Lin Ling,

Does he know how much he is affecting him?

How must know. He must know how much he drives Nice mad. 

His heart is still beating uncontrollably in his chest, the touches left by Lin Ling burn on his skin, and the way his face was just a breath away, his cute eyes focusing on him and only him. Oh, how it took all his patience not to pounce on the boy and take him right then and there.

The anger—the absolute fury he felt when Lin Ling began talking about the despicable man who was once his boss took him by surprise. A day ago, he could barely muster the energy to get out of bed, but now? His vision was filled with red and how he wanted to hurt. Hurt all who dared to lay a finger on Lin Ling. Lin Ling’s boss is a dead man on borrowed time because the minute he gets his hands on him—

Perhaps he’ll present his head as a gift to Lin Ling, showing him how deep his devotion goes. Show him that whatever he wants, Nice will provide.

Oh, Lin Ling, you truly are my heart.

Now, if only filming could end right so he can take Lin Ling back home. But alas, he must suffer sitting next to Moon as this new host, what’s-his-name, goes wildly off script, rambling about one thing or another. Really, the only thing stopping him from killing the guy was Lin Ling.

Lin Ling, who is standing behind the host. Far away from him so the camera can’t see, but close enough that Nice can see all the intricate details on his pretty little face. Nice smiles.  

Ah, what a good day. 

[dior-luxury]

Hi, I just want to say that I love your writing and blog, and I love how trey, jack, jade, jamil, epel and silver propose, can you do one with leona, malleus, riddle, azul, ace and deuce propose please?

How'd They Propose To You

PT.1 [trey clover . jack howl . jade leech . jamil viper . epel felmier . silver] PT.2 [cater . ruggie . floyd . kailm . vil . rook . idia . lilia . sebek] PT.3 [riddle . ace . deuce . leona . azul . malleus]

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/romance - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] riddle . ace . deuce . leona . azul . malleus

- [𝐩:𝐬] Emotional vulnerability/intense emotional moments . Mentions of insecurity/self-doubt . Romantic proposals/Marriage themes . Fantasy setting/magical elements

Note: I'm back at it again chat, I'M CONTINUEING THIS SERIES! Also thank you for the compliments anon!! You're too sweet!

Riddle Rosehearts

With Riddle, you knew it wouldn’t be impulsive. It wouldn’t be wild or loud or rushed. But what you didn’t expect was just how much of his heart he’d pour into every word, every step.

It started with a formal letter—inviting you to a “private tea engagement” in the Rose Garden, signed in his perfect cursive, sealed with his house crest. You smiled, knowing full well he didn’t need to go full etiquette mode with you anymore. But you appreciated it. That was Riddle’s love language: thought, intention, care.

The garden had been transformed when you arrived. There was a single round table with porcelain tea sets, fresh macarons (his handmade specialty), and enchanted roses blooming in perfectly coordinated reds and whites. A soft classical piano played from a gramophone tucked under a tree. No one else was in sight.

And then, Riddle appeared.

He wore a tailored white suit with subtle red accents, crisp gloves, and a pocket watch glinting in the sun. His hair was combed neatly, though you noticed he kept touching it nervously.

“I wanted this to be perfect,” he admitted, guiding you to your seat. “Not just because I enjoy order, but because… you deserve something beautiful. Because you've given me beauty where I once saw only duty.”

You talked, sipped tea, and shared stories like always. But eventually, he grew quiet.

He stood from the table, stepped in front of you, and reached into his coat. His hands were shaking. Riddle Rosehearts—who once had no room for nonsense—was trembling with emotion.

“I was taught rules. I lived by them. But no one taught me how to fall in love. I had to learn that on my own. With you.”

He knelt, stiff and awkward, but there was something deeply endearing about how hard he was trying to do this right.

“You made me believe that love isn’t chaos—it’s growth. Not something to fear, but something to nurture. Like a rose, it only blooms when given time, space… and a little rebellion against expectation.”

He opened the ring box.

It was elegant and timeless—rose-gold with a deep red ruby shaped like a heart within a crown. Subtle vine motifs twined around the band.

“I love you,” he said, voice steady now. “Not because it’s logical. Not because it’s proper. But because you are the one truth I know beyond all reason. Will you marry me?”

And in that moment, Riddle—who once feared breaking rules—broke every one that kept him from living fully.

Ace Trappola

With Ace, you always expected surprises. A prank here, a flirty smirk there, a joke when things got too serious. But when he started acting weird—like, really weird—you knew something was up. No teasing, no dumb games, just him being... nervous.

He invited you on a late-night walk through the empty halls of Night Raven College, casually tossing a “Let’s ditch curfew. Just once.” over his shoulder. Typical Ace.

But the walk didn’t end with some hidden snack stash or silly joke. He led you to the old botanical greenhouse—long since overgrown, half-forgotten—and flipped on a string of charm-lit bulbs overhead. It was suddenly filled with warm golden light, the scent of jasmine and roses, and a blanket set in the middle of the vines.

“Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Real cheesy, right? Bet you're waiting for me to pull a rabbit out of a hat or something.”

He sat across from you, fiddling with a tiny velvet box in his pocket like it might explode.

“I used to think love was just another game. You play your hand, you bluff, you fold. But then you came along and wrecked that theory like a house of cards.” He paused, mouth twitching between a smirk and a tremble. “I thought I had you figured out, y'know? But I kept losing track of the rules. Because every time I made you laugh, every time you saw through my B.S., it felt like I’d already won.”

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a card deck, fanned it with practiced ease… until one card stuck out—slightly thicker than the rest. He pulled it free and handed it to you.

On it, in bold red script: “Marry me?”

He opened the box. Inside was a ring shaped like a curled heart made from rose-gold metal, a single ruby sitting crookedly at its center—just enough to look like him. Daring. Flashy. And real.

“I didn’t want to just ask,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I wanted it to be us. So, will you do me the honor of being the only one I don’t want to trick? My player two? My heart card?”

You laughed. You cried. And Ace? He laughed too—because for once, this wasn’t a joke.

It was everything he’d ever meant but never said until now.

Deuce Spade

Deuce had always said he wanted to be a man you could be proud of. And he worked hard for it—climbing from “troublemaker” to “model student,” all because he wanted to stand next to you with confidence. But when it came time to propose… all of that bravery? Yeah, it went out the window.

You noticed it weeks before it happened. He was fidgety. Overly serious. Practicing things in mirrors when he thought no one was watching. You’d ask what was wrong, and he’d just go red and mumble something about “school stuff.”

So it wasn’t surprising when one day, he showed up at your doorstep, dressed in his ceremonial Heartslabyul uniform—neatly pressed, crimson and black with gold trim. His hair was slicked back the way he used to wear it when he tried to “look proper,” and in his hand was a single white rose.

“I… uh… I was wondering if you'd go somewhere with me?” he asked, clearly trying to sound casual. His voice cracked.

He took you to a quiet hill just outside campus—one you'd both picnicked on before, overlooking the mirror lake where the sky turned glassy at sunset. He spread out a small blanket, revealed a homemade bento box (his cooking still needed work, but you loved the effort), and talked. About memories. About dreams.

Then, the air changed.

He stood, suddenly fumbling with something in his pocket. “I had a speech,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wrote it like, ten times. Wanted it to be perfect. But now I’m standing here, and my hands won’t stop shaking, and I realized… I just need to say it how it is.”

He took your hands in his. His grip was warm and tight, like he was anchoring himself.

“I used to think love was something you had to earn. Like, if I wasn’t good enough, I didn’t deserve it. But then I met you. And you didn’t ask me to be perfect. You just asked me to try.”

He dropped to one knee so fast he almost stumbled. “I want to keep trying—for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with you, build a life where I never have to say goodbye. So… will you marry me?”

In his hand, a ring gleamed—a silver band shaped like interlocking wings, with a small gem nestled in the center. Not expensive, but chosen with care. The stone reminded him of your eyes, he’d say later.

You didn’t even have to answer right away—Deuce’s eyes were already watering, full of every hope and fear he'd ever carried.

And when you said yes, he hugged you like he’d never let go again.

Leona Kingscsholar

The desert air was thick with heat, but you barely noticed it. You were in the Sunset Savanna for a royal festival, something Leona had insisted you join him for—though not without his usual grumbling. He didn’t admit it, but everyone could see he was different around you. Lighter. Less guarded.

The festivities were loud, colorful, full of roaring laughter and dancing drums. But when the celebration reached its peak, Leona disappeared.

You found him hours later—not in the palace, not at the feast, but far beyond the city, in the heart of the savanna. The stars burned overhead, and the winds whispered across golden dunes. He was lying in the sand, arms behind his head, eyes locked on the sky.

“You really are a royal pain in my ass, following me all the way out here,” he muttered when he heard your footsteps.

But then he sat up—and you noticed something rare in his face: nervousness. No lazy smirk, no dry sarcasm. Just... silence. Thought.

“Sit down. You’re gonna want to be eye-level for this,” he said, patting the sand beside him.

When you did, he glanced at you for a long time. That warm gaze, always sharp, had softened.

“You know, when I first met you, I didn’t give a damn what you thought of me. I figured you'd see the same thing everyone else does—a second-born who’s too dangerous to trust and too lazy to respect.” He looked away. “But you didn’t. You looked at me like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just a shadow behind someone else’s throne.”

He pulled something from the folds of his pocket—a ring. The band was forged from dark gold, almost bronze, etched with Savannian patterns and tiny lion paw prints around the base. In the center sat a blood-red garnet, catching the starlight.

“You made me want more. Not power, not revenge. Just… mornings where I wake up and you’re there. Even when I’m a pain. Even when I forget how to say what I feel.”

Leona knelt—not because tradition asked, but because his pride could bow for you.

“I’m never gonna be perfect. Hell, I’ll probably mess this up a dozen times before I get it right. But I want you. Always. So, herbivore—” his voice cracked, just slightly, “—will you marry me?”

And for once, the desert wind stilled. As if even the stars were holding their breath.

Azul Ashengrotto

The Mostro Lounge was closed for a “private event,” though no one quite knew what that meant. Azul had been acting secretive for days—more so than usual. Jade and Floyd wore matching smirks and refused to answer any questions. You knew something was coming. You just didn’t know what.

You arrived at the Lounge that evening, finding the entrance framed by soft, flickering lanterns. Instead of the usual deep blues and rich violets, the decor was ethereal—pearlescent whites, translucent fabrics flowing like sea foam, and the soft sound of a harp echoing through the air. Azul was nowhere to be seen.

Then, Jade appeared with a small bow. “Right this way,” he said smoothly, leading you past the dining area and into a completely transformed underwater-themed room. Coral structures glowed gently, and magic reflected soft ripples across the walls, making you feel like you’d sunk to the ocean floor.

At the center of the room, Azul stood—nervous.

He wasn’t in his usual double-breasted suit. Instead, he wore something reminiscent of his mer-form—a flowing robe that caught the light like the inside of a shell, sea-green embroidery glinting around his cuffs. He adjusted his glasses, clearly trying to maintain composure, but you could see his fingers trembling slightly.

“You always said I was dramatic,” he began with a sheepish smile. “So I thought… why not embrace it?”

He motioned to a table beside him, set with mementos of your relationship—photos, the first menu he designed with your favorite dish, even a little keepsake from your first festival together. “You changed everything. You saw me when I didn’t want to be seen. Not as the businessman. Not as the ‘dangerous Octavinelle housewarden.’ You saw Azul. Just Azul.”

He walked closer, taking your hands. “For the longest time, I thought love was a transaction. That giving meant losing. But you… you proved me wrong. You taught me that the right deal isn’t a trap—it’s a promise.”

Suddenly, the floor beneath you shimmered. A magic circle lit up—a contract glyph. Azul chuckled softly at your surprise. “I drafted something,” he murmured, pulling out a single scroll sealed with a soft blue wax sigil. “No fine print. No loopholes. Just one clause: ‘To love and be loved, without condition, for as long as we both shall breathe—on land or in sea.’”

With a flick of his fingers, the scroll vanished, replaced by a velvet box. Inside was a ring crafted of polished coral and silver, twined like sea vines, with a glistening pearl set in the center. “This isn’t a contract, not really,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “It’s a question.”

Azul lowered himself to one knee—not to outmaneuver or manipulate, but to offer something honest.

“I want to build a future with you. Not behind negotiations or smiles I wear for profit—but beside you, where I am most myself. Will you marry me?”

And in that moment, the ocean 'prince', who once feared vulnerability more than anything, had placed his heart in your hands.

Malleus Draconia

The night had fallen in a way only Briar Valley could conjure—an otherworldly hush blanketed the earth, and the trees glowed with faelight, their branches heavy with crystal dew. You had grown used to the eerie majesty of this land after many visits, but tonight, something different lingered in the air.

Malleus had asked you to accompany him to the ruins near the edge of the Valley—a place he said was “woven into his memory.” His expression had been unusually solemn when he extended the invitation, yet behind that stoic face, his eyes glimmered with anticipation.

As you walked through the tall, whispering grass, the ruins came into view. Marble columns entwined with ivy stood like sentinels of time, and the remnants of an ancient arch framed the star-filled sky. Malleus stood there, his back to you, arms clasped behind him.

When he turned, you saw he had changed into ceremonial fae robes—deep emerald silk embroidered with silver dragons, the crest of his royal lineage stitched over his heart. It was a vision straight from a fairytale. He didn’t speak at first, simply walked toward you, each step heavy with emotion.

“I brought you here because... this was once the place where my ancestors pledged themselves in union,” he began, voice a low rumble. “Even when it was reduced to ruin, I found myself returning. At first, for solitude. But now… for something far more precious.”

He extended his hand, and small orbs of green light danced from his fingertips, floating upward like will-o’-the-wisps. Slowly, the ruins came to life—not physically, but in illusion. Stone mended itself, the columns rose whole again, and fae music hummed softly through the air. It was as if he was summoning the past just to share it with you.

Then, he knelt.

Not because tradition demanded it, but because he chose to—offering the humility of a prince to the one who held his heart.

“I have lived longer than most humans will ever dream. I have seen kingdoms fall, and empires rise. And yet… the time I’ve spent with you feels more fleeting, more treasured, than centuries alone. You are not merely the light that softens my shadow—you are the home I never knew I was searching for.”

In his hand, he held a ring unlike any other—twisted vines of silver and black onyx forming a delicate, open dragon’s wing, with a single tear-shaped emerald nestled at the base.

“Will you allow me to build eternity with you? Not as a ruler, not as a fae… but simply as Malleus, the one who loves you?”

Your answer would not change the stars above—but in that moment, you knew you had become his North Star.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 before falling in love : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

Percy finds a list y/n made in order to fall in love, he's determined to be the one to complete it.

warnings: briefly hinted cabin 7 reader

author: this is inspired by the book mi conquista tiene una lista by Inma Rubiales. Recommended if you like cheesy romcoms (as i do) and can read in spanish !!

Percy didn’t mean to find it, really. He didn’t mean to pry into her things; it felt like an invasion of privacy. But she was the one that had sent him to look for a paintbrush while she was painting, and he wasn't at fault if said paintbrush was beside a piece of paper that called for his attention. 

'things someone has to do before I fall in love'

At first, he wants to go and tease her about it, but as he starts reading, he realizes this is his opportunity. 

He had been in love with her for so long he couldn't even pinpoint the exact moment. He has tried to get her to notice, but either she is too oblivious or she acts like it. 

But this list- this list is exactly what Percy needed. He can't tell her, of course, but he is sure that he can check off all the boxes in her list. Then, that's going to show her that he is at least worth a date. 

"Percy, did you find my paintbrush?" she calls from out of the cabin, he quickly pockets the piece of paper on his jeans and takes the brush to go with her. 

it is no big deal, he's just going to take the list with him to make sure he can follow it. She won't realize.  

1. sings with me (even if they can't sing well)  

Percy loves watching her in her element, how she gets absorbed once she's in front of the easel, the way her brush runs through the white canvas, how her brows furrow together when she makes a mistake that surely no one but her is able to notice. 

She sings when she's distracted, and percy loves it. Her voice is just perfect. And somehow, she always seems to know every song playing on the radio. 

And he always finds an excuse to just sit there and watch her as she paints. It's a wonder how she hasn't realized how utterly in love he is, because every time he looks at her with such love in his eyes that by this point, everyone in camp knows about it. 

Sometimes he helps her, mostly when she can't seem to find the paintbrush or pallete she needs, which is why he even found the list to begin with and- talking about the list! Percy remembers exactly what the first point was. 

Sing with her. Percy doesn’t like singing, he's sure that didn’t come with the list of talents provided by Poseidon. He thinks his voice is terrible and even the idea of singing and disturbing the beautiful sound of her voice was just wrong. 

So he starts small, humming along the music. He recognizes this one. That's a first. Even y/n seems surprised as she pauses for a moment, a small smile tugs at her lips before she goes back to painting, but Percy swears he sees the spark of amusement in her expression. 

"You know this one?" she asks, her tone light and teasing. "Come on, sing with me" 

"I’m not a singer" he mutters, immediately stopping his humming. "In fact, i'm terrible at singing." 

"Who said you had to be a good singer? It’s not an audition" she teases, picking up a clean paintbrush and holding it out to him like a microphone. "here." 

Before he can even think about protesting, the chorus of the song kicks in, and she starts singing, her voice clear and cheerful. Percy groans, but he picks up the paintbrush as he starts humming again. 

She grins widely. "See? it's not that hard" 

"I’m still not singing, no way" he insists, though his voice is softer now, the edges of his reluctance smoothing out just by the sight of her smile. 

"Oh, you will" she says confidently, twirling the paintbrush and pointing it at him like a challenge. "Come on, It’s a duet. You can’t say no." 

And he really can't, not because he cares about any duet whatsoever but just because he can't ever say no to her. 

Before Percy knows it, the words spill out of him, hesitant at first, but then stronger as he loosens up. He's Slightly off key, but she doesn’t seem to care. She cheers him on, laughing as he stumbles over the lyrics. 

"You know, you're actually not that bad." she teases as the song reaches its end.  

"You're ridiculous." he says between chuckles, handing the paintbrush back. 

"And you’re fun sometimes." she replies, beaming up at him. 

He gasps playfully. "Excuse you? sometimes?" 

When she burst out laughing, Percy smiles at her. He wasn't expecting checking off the first item on the list would be this easy. Or this fun. 

2. dances in the rain with me. 

The second item comes just as naturally as the first one. Percy doesn’t have to force anything, it just so happens that a few days later, it started raining just when they were walking back from sword training. 

Most campers around them take their things and run for cover. Percy's just about to do the same, knowing the rain is probably Zeus' doing and not wanting to be anywhere near it, when his eyes fall on her and stops right on his track. 

Far from being agitated by the sudden downpour like everyone else, she tilts her face up, laughing as the rain fall all over her. She looks so carefree, so beautiful, that Percy can hardly be blamed for allowing himself to be pulled into her orbit once again. 

Without hesitation, he steps forward, takes her hand, pulls her closer and spins her around. She is confused at first, but then she laughs, her face full of joy. 

Percy is not a good dancer in the slightest, but he tries just for her. He lets himself relax under the pouring rain, twirling her again and again, his hands holding her waist as she throws her head back, laughing like its the best thing in the world.  

He knows there are people around them, probably watching, but he can’t bring himself to care. Her smile, her laugh, make everything else fade into the background. It's like they are in one of those cheesy romantic movies that she has always seem to enjoy so much.  

When the moment slows, Percy reaches out and gently brushes wet strands of hair off her face. She leans into his touch, smiling softly, and for a second, he’s sure his heart skips a beat. 

"I didn’t know you were such a good dancer." she comments, her voice filled with amusement as she tries to catch her breath, raindrops running down her cheeks. 

I could be anything for you he thinks, but instead, he smiles playfully. "maybe i'm just full of surprises." 

3. creates something just for me 

bonus: 4. knows my favorite flower 

Percy realizes soon enough that not everything on the list is going to be as easy as simply going with the flow. He is good at a lot of things, but crafting isn't one of them, so going through the process of creating something was just- difficult to say the least. 

Still, he doesn’t want to half-ass this one, if she wants him to create something for her, then it'll have to be special. 

That's where Leo comes in, Percy has to beg the boy for his help. But once he ends up agreeing, it's all set to go. 

"metal flowers?" Leo repeats, leaning against the workbench in bunker nine. "Really, dude? you're whipped." 

Percy shrugs, trying to act casual. "She really likes flowers. And uh- she loves peonies." 

How does Percy knows she loves peonies? even he's surprised, he doesn't remember her telling him. But he simply knows. And he's sure of it, too.  

"And couldn't you simply buy her some flowers?" Leo asks, but Percy can already see the gears turning in his head. 

"She deserves something unique and special, doesn’t she?" He replies, and that seems to be enough for Leo. 

"Alright, let's get to work then." 

The two of them spend hours working together. Leo shows Percy how to mold and bend the metal into petal shapes. It's easier said than done, but after a few tries, Percy's able to do it by himself while Leo focuses on welding them together, because he doesn’t trust Percy won't end up burning down the bunker. 

When they're finally done, they have a steel peony. It isn't perfect, but Percy's proud of it. It feels special, and he can't wait to give it to her, he barely manages to thank Leo before he's rushing out of the bunker. 

He's able to find y/n on the stables, she has her hair in a ponytail, a few strands falling messily over her face. She's focused on grooming a pegasus, so she doesn’t notice Percy until he taps her shoulder. 

She's startled at first, but once she sees Percy, she visibly relaxes. "Oh hi Perce, do you need something?" 

Percy was excited, but now he's clearly nervous as he stutters through his words. "I- um- I made something for you." 

That gets her attention, she looks at him surprised as she sets the comb down. "You got me something? what do you-" 

Her words trail off when Percy pulls his creation from behind his back. She seems surprised, looking in between the flower he's holding and his face, as though she can't surely trust her eyes. 

"you like peonies, don't you?" he asks hesitantly, even though he had been one hundred percent sure of his choice a few hours ago. 

She opens and closes her mouth, words dying before they can escape her lips as she reaches and takes the steel peony from Percy's hand. 

It takes her just a moment to realize that Percy is still looking at her with eyes full of doubt, and then her lips finally curl up into a beaming smile. "Like them? Percy i adore peonies." she looks back at the flower in her hand, and she almost feels like crying. "It's so beautiful, how did you make it? how did you know I like peonies?" 

"I'm sure you've mentioned it before" he shrugs, trying to hide how nervous he is. "but i'm glad you liked it." 

"I love it." she reassures him, her smile wide. "thank you, Perce." 

And when she leans and kisses his cheek, he knows the effort was worth it. He would do anything just to make her happy. 

5. listens to me 

bonus: 6. shares his opinions with me 

Some of these were the easiest because, well- Percy already did them. It was the minimum he could do, really. Listening to her came as a second nature. 

He could be in a room full of people, all of them talking at once. but the moment y/n's voice filled his ears, he would be the first one listening. 

Right now, he's in the middle of a shouting match with Clarisse. Cabin meetings always go just like this, they waste the first hour without accomplishing anything, the other counselors are used to this by now.  

"I'm just saying, we shouldn't show any weakness! we should focus on our defense." Clarisse slams her palms against the ping pong table, her voice rising. "we're still vulnerable and we shouldn't rely on a stupid dragon for everything!" 

"And i'm just saying." Percy fires back, already losing what little patience he has. "We need to focus on training new campers first, we-" 

Clarisse cuts him short, it's not the first time she has done it. "what better training than patrolling the borders?" 

"We won't send our new campers to fight monsters without any previous training!" His voice rises, everyone else stares like they're watching a tennis match. "We won't send them to die, have you gone mad?" 

Before Clarisse can reply, surely to fire back with some offense on her part, y/n's voice cuts through the noise. 

"Okay, let's calm down." Percy's head whips towards her the moment she talks, the heat of the argument forgotten the moment his eyes find hers. "you both have a point." 

"but-" Clarisse starts again, but Percy's faster. 

"let her talk" he interrupts before they can get into another argument.  

y/n falters for a moment. She isn’t even supposed to be at this meeting, she’s only covering for Will, who’s stuck at the infirmary with some campers who got into a fight. She feels out of place and is ready to choke on her words. But when her gaze meets Percy’s, he nods at her and offers a small, reassuring smile. It’s all she needs to find the courage to continue. 

She takes a deep breath and then keeps going. "Defense is important, but we do need more trained campers. Maybe we could compromise? Split the efforts? Half the camp focuses on guarding the borders, while the other half works on training?" 

There's a murmur of agreement amongst everyone else at the table, even Clarisse seems to deflate as she acknowledges the logic in her suggestion. But her eyes are still focused on Percy, she might not say it out loud but she values his opinion. 

"Actually" he says after a beat, his voice softer now. "that’s not a bad idea. If we rotate shifts, we could cover both." 

Clarisse rolls her eyes at Percy, but she finally concedes. “Fine. That works.” 

y/n allows herself a small, satisfied smile. Percy catches it, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his own face. 

He knows this isn't the first time she was able to calm him down or change his perspective on something, it probably won't be the last either. He'd simply listen to her anytime. 

7. Shares his interests with me 

It takes Percy a lot of convincing to get her to even step into the water. She’s suspicious of his plan and stalls for ages before finally caving to his begging and jumping in. 

It’s worth it, though, because Percy gets to hold her close under the guise of teaching her how to swim. 

"Okay don't panic." He says gently as he guides her into the water. "just lay on your back and try floating, i've got you." 

She gives him a skeptical look, but he smiles and hesitantly places his hands on her waist, gently guiding her to lie back. His touch is steady, reassuring, and slowly, she begins to relax. 

"There you go, see? it wasn't that hard." Percy says softly, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the moment. 

"Well, i'm not drowning, so that's a win" she jokes, earning a chuckle from Percy. 

As the time goes on, Percy shows her how to kick her legs, how to paddle with her arms, and she was able to float by herself in no time, clumsily treading through water while she laughed.  

"You're a natural." he says, though he's already missing holding her close. 

She splashes him, when he laughs, she has to ignore the way her heart flutters in her chest. "Maybe I just have a great teacher." 

By the time the sun started to set in the sky, they had spent hours swimming around, splashing each other and laughing. Being able to see her smile while she floats close to him, Percy feels his chest tighten, a warm spreading through him. 

"I-" love you. Percy is able to catch himself before the words can slip out of his mouth. "thank you for coming with me." 

Her eyes sparkle like they're holding a million stars in them. "Thank you for teaching me how to swim." 

Percy's in love, and he knows he won't be able to keep it to himself for much longer. 

8. stargazes with me

The moon is high in the sky by the time they climb out of the water, the gentle sounds of waves lapping against the shore filling their ears. The air is cooler now, and y/n shivers as droplets of water trickle down her skin. 

Percy notices immediately, and he grabs a towel, wrapping it around her shoulders as they sit down on the pier. "Here." 

"Thank you." She smiles at him warmly. 

For a moment, they sit in silence, their feet dangling over the edge of the pier, toes grazing the water. The sky above them is impossibly clear, stars scattered across the sky. The moonlight casts a soft glow on Percy's face, and she can't help but stare at him just a little longer than she'd like to admit. 

She quickly looks away when he turns to glance at her, busying herself with admiring the sky instead. "it's beautiful out here." 

"Yeah." he replies, his eyes fixated on her. "it is." 

She doesn’t notice at first, too distracted by the way the constellations seem to shine just for them. But when she turns her head to make a comment, she catches him looking at her instead of the sky. 

Her heart skips a beat, but she tries to ignore her reaction behind a small laugh. "Do you know the constellations?" 

"Not really." he admits, shrugging. "I mean, I know of a few, but I always end up mixing them up." 

She smiles softly, pointing at a small cluster of stars. "That one's Orion's belt." 

Percy squints at the sky, following her finger. "Oh right, I see it now." 

Just like that, they fall into an easy rhythm of pointing out constellations, or at least trying to. When they can’t find one, they make up their own, laughing as they assign ridiculous names to each star. 

Eventually, the laughter fades away and they're left with the sound of waves crashing to fill the silence. She hums happily, resting her head on Percy's shoulder. 

"Thank you for today." she murmurs softly. 

Percy feels a warm on his chest he's become too familiar to. "Anytime." 

9. always tells me the truth 

it takes a week for y/n to notice the list is missing. And she's immediately panicking. She had written that list as a spur of the moment, something so personal she couldn't even think about sharing it with anyone.  

As her siblings leave for breakfast, she stays behind. She has already torn her side of the cabin apart, but there’s no sign of the pink paper she used to write the list. 

She's full on freaking out when someone knocks on her door. She's about to tell whoever is at the door to go away, but then she turns around and finds Percy standing by the doorway.

The effect is immediate. Just the sight of him makes her body relax, even if only slightly. Percy has always had that effect on her, it's like the world slows down for a moment, and the chaos in her mind quiets.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to you" he smiles at her, but once he notices her panicked expression, he raises his eyebrows hesitantly. "Are you okay?" 

She freezes, unsure whether to lie or spill everything. But as her eyes meet his, she crumbles under his gaze.

"No" she admits quietly. “I lost something really important.” 

Percy steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Maybe I can help you find it, what did you-” 

He stops himself mid-sentence just as the realization dawns on him. He knows what she lost. He has it on his pocket. 

She doesn’t even seem to notice his sudden change of attitude, she's too busy pacing around the room. "It's a piece of paper but it's personal. And very important. I can't lose it Percy." 

Percy has to stop her before she keeps talking. "i have it." 

She stops on her tracks, looking up at him with wide, worried eyes. "What?"

Percy takes a deep breath, his fingers trembling as he pulls the pink paper from his pocket. It's Slightly crumpled now, but unmistakable. "I have your list."

y/n's white as a ghost as she silently looks at him, so he keeps talking. "I swear I wasn't trying to snoop or anything. It was just there when I came to find the paintbrush you asked for and I-" 

"Did you read it?" she asks, her voice barely a shaky whisper. 

Percy nods, guilt flashing across his face. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but… I've been working through it." 

Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Her face flushes with a mix of disappointment and embarrassment, and she snatches the paper from his hand, clutching it tightly. 

"Percy you don't understand." she shakes her head, tears gathering on her eyes. "When I wrote this list, I didn’t want anyone to see it, because I didn’t want whoever completed it, did it just because they had to." 

He understands where she's coming from, he really does. Which is why he doesn’t panic and simply takes a step towards her, carefully reaching to take her hand. "No you don't understand. y/n, I didn’t do those things because I had to do them, but because I wanted to. Everything on there- it’s stuff I’d already do for you anyway." 

Her breath catches in her throat, but she doesn’t take her hand away from him. 

"I already love listening to you, and I share my opinions with you because I want you to know the real me. I made that flower because you deserved something special, and I already knew your favorite flowers were peonies. I taught you to swim because I wanted to share that part of my world with you, and every time I spend time with you is because-" he closes his eyes for a moment, he knows he can't keep hiding his feelings." simply because I love you, I love seeing you smile and I love hearing your laugh. So of course, I'd do anything just to spend time around you." 

His words take away her breath, but she can only focus on three specific words. "You what?" 

"I love you." he replies, no hesitation. "And if this changes anything between us, I’ll understand. But I just can't keep pretending I don't love you." 

For a long moment, she stands frozen, clutching the list in her hand. Her heart races wildly, and her hands tremble. But as the truth of his words sinks in, a realization washes over her like a wave. 

She thinks back to every moment they’ve shared, how he's always the first person she looks for in a room. She thinks about how she's always looked for his comfort, how he always listened to her and made her feel safe, like she belongs. 

She thinks about writing that list. And how it always felt so specific, like no one could surely fulfill it. And it was always because she had one person in mind while writing it. him. 

It hits her all at once: she loves him too. She’s been in love with him for longer than she realized. 

"Percy" she mumbles, her voice soft and her eyes full with tears. "I love you too." 

That's everything he needs to hear. He doesn’t even need to ask for confirmation. He can see it in her eyes. He knows. 

Before she adds anything else, Percy leans in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. It’s everything she imagined and more, and she knows in that moment that every word he said was true. 

She loves him. She’s sure of it now, just as sure as she is that he loves her.

When he pulls back, there’s a smile on his face that makes her heart flutter. He reaches up, lightly tapping the paper in her hand, his voice warm and teasing. "Looks like you can cross the last item off your list."

10. Kisses me

[prettyboykatsuki]

heaven in your eyes | zayne (li shen)

♡ tags ; afab + gn!reader, established relationship, porn/no plot, role-reversal, so much dirty talk, soft dom + top!reader (using strap), slight brat + bottom!zayne, very light d/s dynamics, orgasm denial, rimming (m!recieving), anal fingering (m!recieving), pegging, zayne-centric, 18+

♡ wc ; 5.4k (just kill me)

♡ a/n ; this is so embarrassingly self-insert and self indulgent. im going to screamdfjkgs. so sorry. i hope its a good read at least.

title from lemme know by vince staples which will be good to listen for vibes. plus the lyric after this one. anjksdkj

additional authors note at the end abt his characterization here!!!

♡ synopsis ; zayne has a hard time asking for what he wants. you have a hard time paying attention when he wears his new outfit.

“My love. We’re not gonna make it to our—“ A deep shuddering sigh leaves his lips as you peer up at him, your hands just at his waist - lips against the column of pale neck. “…our date,”  

“Hm? Oh, I guess not.”  You murmur, not paying attention. You feel Zayne flush under you, the soft beat of his pulse under his skin.  

He gives you a long look. A half-hearted attempt to sway you. You’re almost out of the door by now, and if you don’t leave soon - you’ll be in a rush. All of these are fair worries. You applaud Zayne for being so considerate under the circumstances. 

Even after you’ve nearly jumped him by the doorway, hands wandering as you peer up at him. You feel a little guilty for potentially ruining your evening plans. But even if you did go to dinner now, you’re sure your patronage would be unwelcome. 

You’re not sure you have the self-restraint needed to not eye-fuck Zayne in a crowded dining room—even less that you don’t pay the bill too early to lay your hands on him in the car.  

And that has its own appeal, sure—you think about doing it just to be polite. But it’d be all sorts of inconvenient trying to drive back home in that state, disheveled and half-way to restless so you could get what you’re really offer.  

You nip at the junction between jaw and neck, teeth lightly scraping thin skin as you trail a kiss up to his earlobe and bite. “I feel sorry about our reservation but I can’t find a good reason to go when I could just bend you over right now,”  

His expression is charming. There’s an innocence to it, a novelty at his surprise hearing you speak so clearly that makes you shiver. A flush pinkness that deepens at the tips of his ears, the soft furrow of his brow. Like he’s embarrassed even though Zayne is not particularly self-conscious or coy.  

You suppose this element of your relationship still proves to be a bit much for him. It’s less that Zayne hates showing weakness - but more that control and the presence of it define his life. It’s hard to give that up so easily, you’re sure. Yet you want to do it anyway, so desperately the words fail you and lead you into cornering him for it. You like that it makes him self-conscious. It’s endearing and arousing in the same breath to watch him fall into familiar habits - unsure of himself. Fidgeting with his sleeve, thinking things over.  

A lot of things in your relationship are new for Zayne, but he must’ve had thoughts. Ideas about what love would look like and what sort of man he’d be. You feel a little sorry you’ve thrown a wrench in those plans simply by being what you are. But if he could see it from your view, you’re sure he’d understand.  

He looks almost displeased now though  - a silent plea in the small micro expressions of his face, yet he doesn’t do anything to turn you down.  

Truthfully you’re fond of this mild resistance. It fills you with a playful sadism seeing his general affect change so drastically in a heartbeat. You pull back to look up at him - kissing his jawline again. You let your hand ghost along the edge of his white blouse, tracing the folds of fabric with a thoughtful hum.  

“Would you be more inclined if I said please?” 

Zayne doesn’t say anything back, just looks down at you with expression nearly indiscernible from his others without the keenest eye. Fortunately you’d recognize that mild embarrassment anywhere. You grin haphazardly at him, head tilted.  

“Or maybe it’d be better to be direct and tell even if we do leave, I’ll be thinking of nothing but fucking you until we get home anyways,” You muse. His brows raise ever so slightly. You play innocently, pretending to think. “But if you’re feeling hungry or really want to go then I’ll wait it out. Is that alright?” 

His expression blooms, a bright red flushing down to his chest - avoiding your prying eyes. “You’re being smug,” 

A grin splits your face. “Am I?”  

“We shouldn’t…” He trails off, finally noticing the distant stare in your eyes as you him.  

“Proper as always, Doctor.”  

You’re at a stand-still. Zayne frowns, expression weary in that sweet way. A little more. 

“My love,” 

“It’s your call, sweetheart.”  

“You mentioned liking the outfit on me,” He says, soft and quiet. Not quite a protest - something closer to self-defense. You smile a little.  

“I did. I do. It’s distracting me,” You hum. “You wore it for me right?” 

His blush deepens, just a little. He frowns. “You’re rather easy to distract,”  

You’re kind enough to not point out his avoidance of the question. “Guilty as charged,”  

You let yourself push forward. Your fingers dip underneath the hem of his shirt before you slide your hands underneath, palms pressing hot against cool skin. Smooth and warm to the touch, you squeeze just above his hips, to the small of his back - tracing a line down the center curve until you’re just at the waistband of his pants. You peer up at him again, standing tall enough to press a kiss to his lips as a small offering.  

In many ways, you find this part of Zayne amusing. He’s not shy in the least bit, not really. He can meet your flirting with his own wit so well you’d go as far as calling him smooth. Charming in all the right ways. It’s fun to flirt with him and know he’ll always match your energy.  

But he’s surprisingly weak to directness. No beating around the bush, no euphemism or innuendos. Whenever you make your intentions as clear as you can are the few instances he seems to be sincerely surprised - almost coquettish in a way you find so charming on him when he’s often anything but. 

This specific attention draws it out of him most, and it’s fun. You think it’s less that the attention itself embarrasses him, and more that he finds it hard to admit that he enjoys it. Maybe it’s your own disposition speaking - but you like that aspect best. That he does like it despite himself, and that you get to exploit the few moments he lets himself be caught wanting such a thing.  

You can’t be sure if this is what he had in mind but it doesn’t change that he wore for you because you told him you liked it. And you do like it on him - both in memory and in aesthetics.  

They’re not clothes he’d pick for himself. Long and silky, an open chest and lace choker - layered necklaces and flowers. He looks like a prince out of a fairy tale, an unusually sweet appearance. He’s handsome enough on his own, really. Whenever you let your eyes linger too long you grow impatient.  

He always looks good. 

The clothes soften him is all. It’s a different look and you like it on him. You love it really - if you’re honest. Enough that every time he wears it a thousand thoughts run through your mind and none of them are especially appropriate. Surrounded by flowers, dressed in pink and white. Pretty. Zayne is handsome by nature, but it’s rare he ever looks so pretty. Pretty in the same daisy flowers are. He leaves you half-way between wanting to preserve him, string him into something nice - or wanting to ruin him completely.  

You pull away from the kiss, lips brushing his. A warm feeling settles in your stomach as you look at him again.  

“We’d better go now if you still want to,” You say slowly, eyes flickering to his as he turns the choice over in his head.  

Zayne doesn’t say anything but steps away from you. You find yourself ready to relent and go to dinner - but to your surprise he makes no move to leave. Instead he locks the door where it was unlocked and looks at you with a very faint blush. You laugh warmly at him, it’s just like him to do.  

“Guess we’re canceling,” You hum, pulling him towards you by the wrist. “Good boy for being honest,”  

“I was concerned for the patrons,”  

You laugh brightly at that. “I’m sure you were,”  

He trails behind you as you make your way to the bedroom, his hand in yours squeezed tight. You pull him without looking back, only stopping to shut the door behind you both. The room is dim as the sun gets close to setting - room painted in the warm shades of dusk. When the door closes, you crowd in on him until his back is pressed against it.  

He breathes a long, drawn out breath. The air in the room is thick, dense with tension. You draw your hands up the nape of his neck until both of them thread through his hair, tugging slight enough to draw a breath from him. You push up on your toes to kiss him like this, a hand on your back to hold you steady but obedient enough not to ask for anymore, not to pull you closer without permission 

Zayne always kisses desperately. His body is honest about his desires always, no exception to the rule. A shaky breath and a deep, murky desire , he’s eager for you when you slot your lips against his. You waste no time in stringing him along, giving him a deep kiss with tongue and teeth. You feel him melt in your grasp at the aggression, smiling into it - his sweet panting breaths like music to your ears.  

“So fucking cute,” You breathe, pulling away. His lips are pulled into a frown, but his eyes are something else entirely. He lets his forehead rest on yours.  

“You’re the only one who’d say that about me,”  

“I’m the only one who should,”  

His expression is honest. Eyes widening before the flush on his face goes deeper, glassier. He likes things like this. You always make sure to say it out loud just to see it, and it never fails to fan the flames of your desire. You loosen your grip, cradling his face with both hands to look at him more closely. A face reserved for you - hazy with anticipation and so eager. Wanting for your attention so seriously you feel your core throb just laying eyes on him. You kiss him again gentler, pulling away and pressing a thumb to his lip when you do. Zayne parts his lips unthinkingly. Your thumb slides against his tongue, watching as he closes around the digit. When you pull back, you brush his saliva against his lips, wetting them before kissing him again.  

“It’s good we stayed home,” You murmur. A kiss on the corner of his mouth as you speak. “I don’t know if I’d make it back to the car if we went to the restaurant,” Another, closer to his chin. “I’m sure I’d take my heels off and  get you hard under the table instead. You’re good at keeping a straight face so I’m sure we’d be fine,” One more, further down, closer to his pulse. “No one would catch us, so there’d be no good reason for me to stop doing it, either.”  

Zayne lets out a soft groan, something from the back of his throat. You trail down at to his neck, stopping your wet kisses to sink your teeth.  You suck a hickey into the open space. 

Zayne’s voice is a tremble - still on the edge of even. “You—That’d be… hard for me,”  

You kiss the bruise you leave, finger tugging at his lace choker to leave another one underneath it. 

“Right, of course. And you can’t make a mess even if you wanted to so you’d have to wait till after dinner,” You take a beat to bite down again leaving  a bigger mark this time. You feel the capillaries split underneath the dull scrape of your incisors as a hickey forms - throbbing as it bruises and blooms. “You’d have to wait until after dinner to get any relief, but I think I’d have to leave you on edge ‘till we got home,”  

“Why would you—?”  

“It’d be a waste to make you cum anywhere other than on my cock since that’s what I wanted anyway. Of course I’d feel a little sorry for you, so I’d take the edge off,” You trail down lower, nose brushing against his collarbone and clavicle as you stop to leave more marks. You hear Zayne inhale underneath you - making you smile. “I’d use my hand since it’s easier to tell when you’re going to cum but I can’t let you. And then, when you can’t hold it anymore - then we’d have to go home,”  

Zayne makes a noise. It’s a soft sound, throaty and desperate as you’ve set him on edge. Pleasantly needy. You kiss down his chest, over each brand new mark - adding color to the display of necklaces he already has on. You use another hand to slide down his chest, his stomach and waistband - until you settle over his cock. It’s hard, strained against your palm as you cup and squeeze. He lets he’s head fall back, eyes fluttering closed as you keep speaking.  

“But you’d have to wait a little while longer even we got home. You let me in here easier now,” You slide your hands around, squeezing his ass. Zayne makes a strained sound, muffling it as best he can. “But I can’t just shove it in right? You’re a good boy so you’d have to wait it out some more for me.”  

Zayne pants, eyes searching for you as the room slowly darkens. “My love,” 

“What is it, baby?” You hum. Your eyes meet as you rest, your thumb over the tip of his cock over his clothes. He lets out a shaky breath.  

“Please don’t tease me,” He says flatly.  

You laugh at him. It comes out a little meaner than you want, but it can’t be helped. “You don’t want me to?”  

He frowns at you. “No,”  

You pretend to frown. “Too bad. You’re fun to tease,” 

He looks at you with his face slightly pinched. “Please,”  

“I’ll play nice since you were a good boy for me today,” You praise. You see Zayne blush. “Think you can be good for me again?”  

He nods. You smile, pressing up to whisper against his ear. “Take these off and bend over the side of the bed. Wait for me,”  

Zayne meets your eyes. Obvious embarrassment has a flush crawling down your face, but he goes anyhow - waits for you as promised, as you creep to the other side of the room as you open a drawer in your bedroom. You strap into the harness first, tightening yourself into it until its snug - heavy weight between your legs secured. You take the lube next, assessing that there’s enough in the bottle to make it work. 

Your boyfriend waits for you like you've asked. Kind of. At the edge of his bed with his arms folded on the mattress and his knees on the floor - back arched. He’s slipped his pants just below his thighs but his boxers are on still. You turn a dim light on to keep the room from pitch black before you settle down behind him. Zayne looks over at you from his shoulder when you do - your hands on his hips as you bend yourself over him.  

It’s easier this way to talk to him, your chin on his shoulder and your body pressed to his spine - voice next to his ear. “I thought I told you to take this off,”  

Zayne tucks his chin. “I thought this would be fine,”  

You laugh “Is that right?” 

You do him the favor of leaving his pants on, pulling them down to his knees before you tuck your fingers in his boxers and pull them down entirely. Zayne flinches at the sudden change in temperature. You take a second to admire him. Smooth pale skin flushed rosy as you slide the boxers off, revealing him to you completely. His cock sits heavy, tip ruddy and leaking against your bed sheets as Zayne shudders from the friction. 

You run your finger on the underneath side of his shaft - watching his shoulders tremble at the featherlight sensation. Your lip twitches.“I barely touched you. Did you work yourself up thinking about what I said?”  

He clears his throat. “…It was very detailed.”  

You hum. “Yeah? What detail made you like this? The part about being teased or the part about being fucked?”  

You can see Zayne blush even deeper. It’s visible. His ears are red, but this time its all the way down his back. You don’t think you’ve ever seen it go down so far.  

“No answer?” You coo. 

“…If you already know, it’s impolite to ask,” 

“It’s fine to say it directly,” Your hand slides from his hips to his stomach “That you wanna feel me right here,”  

He shrinks underneath you, face buried in the mattress. You snicker at his reaction - nearly petulant with how he moves away.  

“Are you that embarrassed to say it? You’re good at dishing it out but you can’t handle it at all.”  

“It’s hard to say,”  

“I tell you stuff like that all the time,”  

A beat. “It’s different,”  

“It is? I see, I see. Think you can answer questions then? Just a yes or a no.”  

Zayne pauses, suspicious but unsure. “I don’t see why not,”  

“Do you want me to then?”  

“To what?”  

You grin. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, baby?  You haven’t told me straight once even though I’ve been so direct about exactly what I want to do. I thought maybe you need more details to make you feel comfortable,”  

You can hear him flounder. “That’s not—“  

“See, I’ve got such a pretty picture of you in my head already. You look just like this but you’re getting stretched on my cock and fucked half stupid,” You trace your hand down his spine “Holding you down so you can’t run away from it and making you cum until there’s nothing left to fuck out of you. But I can’t do it until you say yes, see? So it’s a bit of predicament.”  

Zayne’s voice is hoarse. “You’re being unfair,”  

“You said you could answer me right? So answer me. Just a yes or no, with your words and we can make something even prettier out of you together. Doesn’t that sound nice?”  

He’s shaking under you. You almost feel bad.  

Almost.  

“Y-yes. Yes, just -“  

“It’s alright baby. I’ve got you,” You coo at him, and you mean it. And you’re sure Zayne is more than fine with keeping quiet for the time being.  

You kiss down his spine over his clothes, not wanting to take the shirt off even still. All the way down to the small of his back, lower and lower. You use your hands to spread his ass apart, amused by the way he trembles.  

It seems like he catches on too late to what you’re going to do.  

“Wait, wait, you don’t need to—“  

The words fall on deaf ears as Zayne falls forward with a shudder, his hips giving out almost immediately as your tongue slips against his hole. You can hear him start to say something but each time the words seem to fall flat, dying in his mouth. Replaced with what you’re certain are choked out moans that he’s trying  desperately not to let out. You press your tongue flat against the tight rim until you fall into a steady rhythm, feeling him twitch on each pass. He’s a mess above you - you’re not sure if it’s from shame or pleasure or both, but he hasn’t made a single attempt to push you away from it and it’s only goading you further.  

You’re being relentless - for no real reason other than you want to, want to see how far he can be pushed this way. You collect your spit on your tongue before pushing into tight hole with a little effort. Zayne lets out a sound like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, his cock twitching endlessly. When you sink in with your tongue in his ass as far as you can, you use one of your hands to wrap around his shaft.  

Zayne hisses, a broken huff forced out of him immediately.  

“P-please, just—mm,”  

It’d be easy to make him cum like this, you think. You tease him with it, hand rubbing over the tip - thumb underneath the head and over the slit. He twitches hard in your grasp, and you know a little more would be enough.  

So you stop, pull your hands away completely and watch with amusement as he chases friction, air, anything and finds none. Hips stuttering as he seeks relief you refuse him so openly - but still trying his best not to appear impatient.  

It’s an open secret that all Zayne has to do to get what he wants is ask. Throw away his pride for a split second, just long enough to whimper out a simple turn of phrase and it’s his. Whatever he wants. If he can’t yet, then he’s still not where you want him.  

Zayne shudders when you pull away from him completely. Hand and mouth at once, a muffled sound of displeasure at the sudden loss of friction. 

“Felt good, baby? Seemed like it,”  

Zayne looks at you briefly from over his shoulder. You shiver at his expression, so troubled. So frustrated. You smile at him unhelpfully. 

“Did you have something to say?” You ask, goading. Zayne pauses.  

“…No,”  

“You sure?”  

You can hear it in his voice. “I’m certain,” 

You shrug, wordlessly opening the bottle of lube you’ve brought with you and pouring it into your fingers. Pressing yourself to his spine, you fold over him and slide your land lower. Your fingers rub a slow circle against his rim, amused as Zayne breathes shallowly.  

“Hm. Guess you’re not relaxed enough then,” You murmur, voice hot against the shell of his ear “Deep breath, sweetheart,”  

He lets out a soft affirmative. It’s muffled where he presses his face into the mattress, buried into his arms. It’s easier then normal to slip your first fingers in since he’s already relaxed - though the fit isn’t much less tight. Down to the knuckle in one smooth motion, Zayne groans. You pull back slightly, kissing at the expose nape of his neck as his shirt rests haphazard.  

When you’re sure a second one will fit, you add in a second more slowly. His shoulders are trembling. Breathing heavy, thighs tensed from the sensation. You let out a thoughtful hum and scissor your two fingers until it doesn’t feel like there’s any resistance.  

You pause, waiting a beat before pushing yourself deeper and curling your fingers up. It’s helpful you’ve done this enough time to have it memorized. Your fingers press up against his prostate with ease, knowing his body better then your own.  

It’s easy to tell when you’ve found it. Zayne moans. It’s loud and unabashed, the kind of sound you know is completely involuntary - no longer able to hold it in. You use your free hand to continue stretching him open - the other one reaching from his face. Your hand slips in the small space, carefully pulling him up by the chin. His expression is flushed, mildly startled - but not strong enough to escape from your grip.  

“No more hiding,” You tell him, sharper than before. His eyes go lidded, nodding in an absent way. His brows twitch as you rub against his prostate relentlessly. Shuddering, nearly at the tipping point of his coherence. His hands are clawing into the mattress underneath him as he does. You can see how bad he wants it, but his teeth are still firmly in his lip. “You’re still being stubborn about it, huh? Even though it feels good,”  

“I d-didn’t say it didn’t feel good,”  

“You’re shaking,” You point out plainly “You still won’t tell me what what you want? Hm?”  

Still nothing. You take a deep breath, considering your options before slowly adding another finger. Zayne gasps quietly, sweat forming at the base of his neck from the tension. With your middle, pointer, and ring finger pushed inside of him down to the knuckle, you find his prostate a second time. Without mercy, you thrust and curl and push up against it - pulling away from him to get a view of him bent over.  

Zayne’s cock is twitching, silky strings of pre-cum pooling at the floor underneath him. So red it almost looks painful, balls tight. His cock looks heavy and strained - needy. You use your other hand to tease his length, never once getting close enough to give him any relief.  

It takes you wrapping your hand just barely around the head to evoke a whine out of him.  

You stop again. Zayne chokes, hips stuttering at the lack of friction. He pushes back against you, chasing the pleasure but you’re gone before he can. You tsk as you watch him strain himself, but you still give him a minute to breathe.  

The room goes quiet, silent as you let him cool off before Zayne finally breaks the tension himself.  

“Please,” He begs, sounding almost helpless.  

You put your hand on his waist. “Please what, baby?”  

Zayne sighs, exasperated - then hiccups. His voice sounds so different - so out of it. “Please, my love—it’s too much, please,”  

“Is that so?”  

He turns his face towards you more, eyes asking for mercy. “Please.”  

You won’t budge on it, though.  

“Please what?”  

A beat followed by a shaky breath, voice small. Almost fragile.  

“Please let me cum,”  

Without hesitation, you wrap your fist around Zayne’s cock and fall back into a smooth pace fucking him open. You feel him crumple immediately under the weight of the pleasure, his body wracking with shivers. His moans growing louder, less coherent.  

“Good boy,” You praise, increasing the pressure as high up as you can as Zayne cries out. You feel him finally give into the touch completely, desperate and breathy as you pump his cock and fuck him open on your fingers. Your mind is occupied suddenly by the sight of him. Bent over at the waist and shaking, pushing himself into the mattress with his body clasped tight. Like he’s at an altar - vulnerable and waiting. “I won’t stop this time so let it out,”  

His weight collapses, body slumped as you watch the orgasm he’s been chasing wash over him in a single go. His whole body wracks, thrashing as the sensations overwhelm him - swearing under his breath as you touch him through his high until he’s begging you let him off and give him a breather. Thick, hot ropes of cum cover your fingers as Zayne comes down.    

You use whatever left to stroke the silicone cock between your legs, rather then letting it go to waste. Once your hand is free of the mess, you lean forward and kiss the small of Zayne’s back as he re-collects himself.  

“You did good for me, sweetheart. It wasn’t all that hard to say right? But maybe it’d be better if we kept practicing,”  

“Please have mercy on me,”  

You grin. “No can do. One more time, yeah? Tell me what you want and it’s yours,”  

Zayne lets out a sigh, long and resigned. He looks at you from over his shoulders with a furrowed brow before speaking. “…Please put it in,”  

You pause before breaking out into laughter. He groans from embarrassment. 

“Sorry, sorry - I’m not making fun of you. Promise. It was better this time, so good work. Just relax, alright? For me,”   

Zayne nods. Gives in, ultimately - pushing back up on his elbows as you line the tip of your cock against him, sliding it up and against fluttering hole before pushing in with a silent promise to clean him up after this. Zayne tenses only briefly as you push the tip in, watching with heavy eyes as he takes it.  

“You’re stretching for me so nice,” You hum, both hands on his ass and pulling as you watch the pink rim open up around the narrowest part. Opening slowly as you slide your hips, his body reacting instantly.  

As much as it takes to get him to relax, this works every time.  

The tension melts out of his body like candle wax over low flame, hot and heady. “It’s not all in yet but you’re feeling it already. Maybe this was what you wanted, wearing this for me,” You murmur.  

“Aah, aah,”  

You slide yourself in, rocking your hips in measured beats until Zayne adjusts. All the way until you’ve bottomed out completely, cock swallowed all the way down to the base. Glancing where you’re sheathed inside of Zayne, you admire the view carefully. Holding still to let him adjust to the intrusion - you slide your hand underneath the billowy fabric of his shirt. It’s displaced - the nape of his neck and line of his back exposed. Blush-toned with a thin sheen of sweat rolling down the muscles while he hides himself away.  

You had plans to be kinder to him but they go out of the window fast.  

You place a hand on the back of his neck to keep him pinned down while the other one holds his hip. Your words come without ceremony.  

“Tell me when you cum, but you don’t have to ask,” You say. Not particularly nice. “So we’re even,”  

Before Zayne can manage a single coherent reply, you press down on him firm and pull your cock all the way before pushing it back in. It’s one swift gesture, not punishing - but quick enough to leave him off-center and clawing at the bedsheets at the sudden motion. 

A thrill crawls up your spine at the sight of him. The sound of him. The touch, the way he trembles under your grasp. Your stomach turns on itself from the sheer elation of watching him fall apart for you without anywhere to run to. Perfectly pliant and made to take whatever pleasure you can give him. You build a pace up slowly as the flames of arousal lick at your core, grinding yourself into textured end of your strap each time. Once you find the right pace, you find it hard to focus on anything other then fucking him.  

So you don’t bother on thinking about anything else, keeping your grip firm. Consistent and deep, eager as the room fills with the sound of skin hitting skin. Zayne’s moans come out stronger now, pushed out and spilling from his lips like a broken record. You hear him swear under his breath every now and again, when it gets to be too much. A litany of cries that sound sweeter than the chorus of a songbird - you find there’s nothing you want more then to fuck him completely out of his mind while you try and memorize the melody.  

Zayne doesn’t last long at this rate, and it’d be unfair for you to expect him too. But it surprises you just how quickly it all comes down. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been fucking him all that long, especially since he only came a little while ago.  

But you can tell - from the tremble of his hips and the sudden grip on the sheets that he’s close. 

“My love I’m going to—“ 

“Cum for me baby. That’s all you need to do,”  

And so he does, without any hesitation. Nothing comes out for it, but he does cum - and you see it in how he trembles and seizes. All the muscles in his body going taut like a bowstring before he breaks into something finer, like threads of fabric falling apart. He cums hard but nothing comes out, and he lays there in the aftermath.  

You wait a while, but you stay. Sheathed inside of him, kissing a line up his back, at his shoulder.  

“Aren’t you glad we skipped dinner?”  

Zayne laughs tiredly. “Yes, I suppose I am. I would like a break though,”  

“Oh?”  

He sounds embarrassed but firm. “A reward, maybe. I-If it’s alright.”  

You have the inkling that reward just means him laying between your legs. He’s worked hard enough to have it.“Mm. If you want. But I’m not finished with you yet, so it’ll be a little short-lived.”  

“That’s fine. More then fine,”  

You laugh at him. “Right. Then yes. You can have whatever you want,”  

♡ a/n ; some notes about zayne here!! i know a lot of people write him as a rather obedient sub but in my honest opinion - i think zayne has a hard time seriously relinquishing control. it's such a center-piece of his life that giving it up and really letting someone have that sort of influence on him makes him a little shy - even though he is imo notoriously forward.

so i think he can be a touch stubborn / a little bratty when he's being sincere about being submissive. rather then just playing along with you if that makes sense!!

anyhow thanks for reading!!! rbs and tags always appreciated

[gothicrepetitions]

Rating SPN White Dresses

Mary’s White Dress

It’s literally THEE White Dress, like come on. And my god is it absolutely beautiful; the way the material gathers and flows down her body so elegantly, the delicate lace with the little rose. And coupled with the curls, truly nailed their rendition of the Angel of the House troupe. Crazy how effort they put into it tbh and you can see the decline as we go on. I think the one from Home is a copy (sleeves are shorter and lace is different) but I’ll count them as one. 100/10

I didn’t notice it on my first watch but this is literally a different dress I’m ctfu. The dress itself is not terrible (tho a clear downgrade from the original) and I do think most of its awkwardness comes from a combination of bad lighting, ill fitting and the flat hair, BUT (and I may be giving SPN a little too much credit here) I think it works that Mary looks stiff because the season is about deconstructs Mary’s madonna image; she’s out of place in the very dress that defined her up till now. 6/10 (edit: 7/10 I think I made the mistake of comparing it to the OG dress, it’s way better than a lot on this list)

Mary wears this one in Dean’s Heaven and in her own mindscape in 12x22. Another case of a dress looking worse because SPN no longer gaf. I like how this isn't a nightgown but more so a sundress. The sunlit garden of it all<33 You're in a floral print dress in your perfect house, making lunch for your perfect children and one day you'll all think back to this as a time that was perfect and beautiful (except it wasn't actually like that at all, was it?). 9/10

Constance’s White Dress

Constance is the abjected, monstrous Mother to Mary’s Pure Madonna, too shame-faced to return to her broken, rotted home and instead haunting roadsides. Her white dress is more form fitting compared to how Mary’s loosely falls, and is torn in various places, to connote sexuality and unchastity. A woman desecrated. 9/10

…. 1/10 this is taking me out

Jessica’s White Dress

See this one confuses me because it’s clearly not the white dress in Lucifer!Jess wears and Sam hallucinates. It's literally lingerie, I guess they were trying a 2000s version of a white nightgown? 4/10 the fire makes it a little hard to judge

I guess they changed it because they couldn’t have Jessica in the other one? Unfortunately it’s a bit cheap and ugly</3 looks a little better in the darker lighting. 4/10

Monica's white dress

I like this one tbh with the buttons and the pattern on the collar. 7/10

Eve's white dress

I appreciate some elements about this but overall dress itself is fucking ugly sorry and Constance did this better 4/10

Lilith's white dress

It's a typical wedding dress, nothing really special but I like how it contrasts to the rest of the dresses. 7/10

Lisa's white dress

It reminds of a little of Mary's dress in Dean's heaven where it's not a nightdress but a sundress and in the way this isn't her but a sanctified image. She'll always be an ideal to look back at, the sun shining on her, wearing a white dress, sitting in a garden and never a person; to choose the person is to destroy the image. The dress itself is cute but nothing special. 6/10

Karen's white dress

It's just your typical white dress but ugly and tacky. 3/10

Sarah's white dress

Another typical white dress except this one is a little cuter to me. I like the design on the front with the button and it has some cute embroidery if you look super close. 5/10

They really dgaf about consistency this is taking me out. The dress is cute enough. 5/10

Kelly's white dress

The added layer makes it look more special than it would've. 7/10

[madamechrissy]

♡ Time after Time ♡

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ CEO! Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Facesitting, explicit sex, blow jobs, breeding kink, like Satoru needs to breed you fr lol, little bit of getting tied up, light dom/sub elements, then mentions of death and light angst

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ Gojo Satoru is your boss And you've been his head assistant for over two years now. You do everything for him, including and not limited to cleaning his messes, picking out his clothes, and writing his speeches. Sixteen hour days... night calls... You are tired of being overworked and at his beck and call. You decide you are going to put in your two weeks notice. He is shocked, and wants to try to keep you, because you're the best. But you know better. Right? . You really wanna fucking quit. You also wanna fuck him. Also, fuck him.

A/N (Kinda has 'two weeks notice' vibes a bit! No use of y/n.) Fully finished on Ao3 but I'm going to slowly get it all up here! (Gojo's POV in itallics)

Chapter 9 - Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Gojo… this is too much.” You're standing in front of four big red bags of clothes he had ordered, and he shrugged with a smile.

“Maybe I want you to stay here all the time.” He pulled out an empty drawer of his huge black dresser, and you feel your tummy flip flop. “You can have this one.”

“A drawer? Are you sure?” He was so casual, shrugging and smiling back at you, handsome as fuck.

“We've damn near been sleeping together for two weeks. We might as well have some clothes for you here.” You nervously bite your lip, carefully pulling out the pretty dresses and cute tops, scanty little shorts that made you flush.

“You want me all slutty hmm?” He grinned big then.

“Absolutely I do. When you're just here with me, you might as well be.” You giggle, starting to pack the drawer full. “Next we'll basically be married.”

“Oh stop!” You shoulder him, never sure if he's joking or serious, but he's grabbing another little bag, and you realize it's full of lingerie. “That's for you isn't it?”

“I'd look so pretty!” He holds a lacy pink bra to his chest and you burst out laughing shaking your head at the vision.

“You would!”

“I'll wear it for you baby.” He winks and blows you a kiss, your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Thank you. It's all so nice. I really appreciate it.” You two kiss, and you feel so comfortable in his room, like it's as easy as breathing, like you could stay and not leave.

“Of course. I know I was a dickhead this morning.”

“You were. I'm still mad. A little less though.”

“I also got you a toothbrush.” He slid a hand into the final bag, and there was a fancy electric brush that was extra. You smile.

“Now we're definitely married.” You tease, and his smirk is devilish.

“Knew it. Just gotta get you pregnant now.” He growled the words, hand on your lower tummy. You feel that fucking ache for him hit hard, crying out just a bit. “You like that idea a lot. Just pregnant all the time with all my babies.”

“All the time? How many baby Gojos?!”

“Mmm at least three.” You sigh, shaking your head.

“Three is okay.”

“Gotta get on that first one. Skip a pill would you.” He lowered his hand, and you instinctively arch against him, gasping. “So fucking easy.”

“Mnh fuck off.” He bit the other side of your neck then, leaving the healing bruise alone, tearing the flesh and making you slick and wanting against his fingertips. “Speech.”

“Boring.” You laugh breathlessly. He picks out an outfit for you then.

“You should put this on.” You nod, and he helps you out of your blazer and business skirt, sliding the little white crop tank and pink shorts on you. Your nipples are on full display, and he grabs your soft breasts, squishing them in his big hands.

“Speech.”

“You're annoying.” He grimaced, looking you up and down. “And really fucking hot.”

“So are you, annoying and really hot.” He kisses your nose, and you can feel your chest tightening with how much you felt then.

“All right, let's go work on the speech. Wanna do this in my office?”

“That works! Oooh do you have snacks?”

“Of course I do. I'll bring em up and meet you there.”

You head to his office, taking some papers and a pen, gliding smoothly against the paper as you start. Gojo came back with a ton of little chocolate cookies, popcorn, pretzels, mini donuts and chocolate bars. You feel yourself full of fondness for him and his goofy self.

“My lady.” He bows, and you curtsey.

“Many thanks Sir. Oh gosh you do have a sweet tooth!”

“Fuck yes I do. Let me grab something to drink.”

You continue jotting down ideas and points Gojo could make, and he comes back with little bottles of different flavor sodas of all kinds. He opens you one up, and then asks the device to play jazz, creating a calming atmosphere, so comfortable. He was leaning behind you, filling you with his clean scent, a long arm on either side of your chair, hand gently brushing your bare shoulder.

His very being distracted you, making your mind wander, thinking torrid thoughts that seemed insatiable. He hummed a bit, looking at your paper, touching you so gently you leaned back in the chair, sighing happily. “Should just all be singing your praises, law school girl.”

“No, no. It's your speech. Okay so I'm thinking of…”

 You and Gojo fall into a comfortable mix of silence and concentration as you both work on your own papers, taking turns snacking and popping treats into each other’s mouths.

Soon it had been well over an hour and your eyes were growing tired. You peek over to see his progress, and he’s super concentrated on everything, hunched over the paper. You get a look at it, and then nearly snort your soda out of your nose.

“Satoru! Really?” He peeks up all innocent batting those lashes with an angelic little smile.

“What?” You roll your eyes at his attempt at feigned innocence.

“That's what you’ve been doing? It’s just a drawing of Sukuna on a dartboard with a fucking dart in his head!”

He grinned, laughing like a mad man, holding it up with pride. “It's a good fucking drawing too! Admit it, you know it is.”

You sigh, hands on your face, struggling to hold in your laughter, holding your tummy as it burst out, making you shake with it. “Yeah, it kinda is.”

“See! I'm so talented.” He pulls you between his thighs, spinning the chair, bringing you to where his head was against your breasts.

“Very talented.” You are brushing back his hair, soft under your fingers, thinking how irritated this would have made you before, but now it was endearing somehow. Deeper and deeper you fall.

“I’m talented in all kinds of ways.” His voice gets husky, his hands sliding down your bare waist.

“Mmm. Let's do more later.”

Gojo snatches you up, popping you on his desk. Your arms fall around his neck with ease, scooching your hips to the edge of it.

“Why do you look so fucking delectable on a desk?” He purred the words. “Come on little brat.”

He helps you down, leading you back up to his room.

He's kissing you passionately, and then he turns you around, and leads you over to his side table, opening it to reveal all sorts of things that might as well have come from some erotica.

“Have I shown you any of this yet?”

“I… what is this, some red room of pain shit?”

He chuckles and plays with your breasts now, making you sigh as he shows you more in the drawer with his other hand. “Nothing too wild here. Handcuffs, rope, gags, blindfold, whip and anal plugs. Lubricant for days, but you sure the fuck don't need that with that waterfall.”

“Nothing too wild? You’re talking to the girl who literally has done almost nothing.” You instantly cover your face in your hands and he eases them down.

“Ah-ah. Don’t be embarrassed. We don't ever have to use any of this. It's just there. If you ever want to try anything just ask me.”

“What if I'm vanilla? Would it be boring?”

“No. You could never bore me.” He caresses your cheek, turning your head so that he could look into your eyes, your ass pressed against his body, wanting. His words reassure you.

 You fall deeper into the abyss that is Satoru Gojo. 

“It’s cute how innocent you are. I just love corrupting it.” His tone grew dark, and you trembled, mind whirling with wild fucking images.

“I mean a couple of them seem interesting…” You admit, still shy though Gojo had seen you in nearly every way. “Maybe being tied up wouldn't be so bad? But I like to touch your body a lot..” You pressed a hand to his chest and he placed one over yours too.

“We could do a loose knot on your wrists for now. And if you don't like it we can just be vanilla.” He was smirking, you nod, burying your face shyly against his chest, inhaling his scent.

“I trust you.” Gojo somehow has you naked and in some fucking pirate worthy knot in mere seconds, before you can barely blink. He pulls your wrist down a bit, glossy lips smirking.

"Too tight?”

You test the ropes, shaking your head, and then he gently sits you on the bed, standing over you, tilting your chin up. You eagerly look down at his cock, licking a lower lip, and enjoy the instant reaction you see.

“Want it in that pretty mouth?” You nod quickly, and sit there patiently, hands unable to grab him. He's ridiculously gentle as he frees his cock from his boxers and places it in your inviting mouth, moaning softly, hands in your hair, guiding your head up and down his shaft.

Each stroke you tried to lick different areas, finding what made him tick, what made him lose control, enjoying the tension in his arms, in his voice as he was whispering your name over and over like a mantra. You peek up and see his head is back, veins in his throat prominent, before he peers back down.

His eyes are animalistic, unreal in how blue they'd become with his eyes dilated to pin points. Eyes like the sky. You tasted the precum on his tip, tongue swirling, lost in him.

He pulled away suddenly, and you pouted, wanting more.

“I was having fun!”

“Time for my fun.”

He laid on the bed, on his back, legs hanging off and feet on the floor. He beckons you with a finger until you straddle him, pulling you higher and higher until your legs are on either side of his face, fucking scandalous you think. 

“Satoru!”

“Sit on my face, baby girl.” He ordered, and you hesitate, making him yank you by the rope now, until you're bent forward, pussy right open in his face. “Getting shy again?”

“What if I like, suffocate you?!” He laughed, and you jolted as it hit your sensitive pussy.

“Please suffocate me, baby, I want your cum all dripping on my face.” You moan, and he's anchoring you, making you struggle with your core for balance and then his tongue is sliding up your slit, and you're nearly screaming in pleasure, arching against him. His slurping noises are obscene as he drinks your desire.

You're trembling, riding his face now, your hips going back and forth, cumming hard when he moans against your puffy little clit, vibrating it. As pleasure strikes through your body, he's literally fucking inhaling you at this point, hand gripping your ass hard. You fall apart on him, crying out, shaking as you grind on his face, tongue fucking you through it.

You struggle to get up, it was too much, but he holds you there, and a finger drifts up from the wet entrance of your pussy and up to your ass entrance, making you tense, he slides it in the tiniest bit, a fingertip, continuing the ridiculous pace of his tongue. At the new and foreign sensation along with possibly your favorite thing in the world, Gojo’s pussy eating expertise, you rock back and forth in mindless pleasure.

You fall backwards when the orgasm rocks through you hard, he hangs on to your hips, you’re so weak. You see Gojo's face is drenched and shimmering under you as you’re straddling his chest. You laugh like mad, breathy, and he's grinning like a psycho with you.

“That… that tongue is like the devil.” You mumble. He laughs, sitting up and sliding you down, positioning you above his cock. You throw your head back, trembling, as he uses the rope to pull you down onto his length, slipping in your throbbing pussy with ease.

“See I told you, you’re freaky. You liked that, becoming my little slut.” You didn’t deny it, simply sinking back down on his cock.

“Yes, yours…” You mumble incoherently, his nostrils flare at your words, their intent clear as you keep his gaze, rolling your hips on him, pressing him so deep it ached.

“That's it.” He caressed your breasts, before taking your tied hands and leaning them on his chest, pushing you forward more. “Yes, sit down on this cock. Mmm. Just like that.”

His words pushed you further every time he spoke.

“Mnh! So good I-fuck!” Gojo hit some spot deep, and you started to feel your climax hitting again, as he slid a hand down to your clit, making you come then and there. It pulsed through you, your entire body reacting, pussy tightening around him again, making you weak.

“You're taking me so well.” His voice was quiet, words so calm, sucking in a breath as your pussy soaked his stomach as wetness seeped out, cunt pressed so tight around him.

“Love…” Don’t do it. Too soon. “Love… this. Love your cock. Feels so good, so so good.” Your words ran together, slurring like you were drunk damn near, the ecstacy shut your brain function down.

Satoru raised a brow with a half smile. As if he fucking knew what you meant. “I love this little pussy, too. Fucking goddess riding my dick.”

You struggle at his words, knowing he literally looks like a god, you were merely a mess barely able to hold it together.

Gojo's dick is stretching you further beyond your means, and your orgasm rocks you so hard again you can't move anymore, trembling, gasping for breath. His dick is against your walls, impossibly harder, and he's fucking into you now, tearing you apart, slick sweat forming between your bodies.

He shoves up into you hard, tensing then, pretty white teeth biting his lower lip, those dilated eyes narrowed, thin brows low. “Do you want this cum inside you?”

You nod fervently, hanging on to him as best you could, but then he flips you on your back, tied arms up above your head now, shoving your legs up against your chest, cock going in impossibly deep. You cry out in pain as it fills you too much, too much. He grabs your face as his arms press your thighs flush, pussy open to him fully.

“You'd be so pretty with my fucking baby in you.” He whispered, and it made you wetter, more sensitive, pussy throbbing for his cum to fill you, for more of his words that did nearly as much as his touch.

“Put one in me, please, Satoru. I promise, I can take all of it, all your cum… Oh please.” You’re begging him, without any of his prompting, and watch the madness fill his gaze as your body bumps up and down with each powerful stroke.

“Take it all then.” He bit out the words, and then shoved all the way, bottoming out nearly, you scream, wiggling, and his cock pumps his hot cum in you, pulling just a bit back to shove it in more. Satoru groans, his own body shaking, kissing you. You drink his soft moans as he and you both lay there, cum starting to fall out now.

“Satoru…” He eased out of you gently, untying your wrists with deft hands, and began rubbing life back into them. They'd gone numb.

“You like wasting my cum, little brat.” He made you tense, then his fingers shoved it back in you. Again. Again. Again.

“Ah! Fuck…” You’re sobbing now and he's cooing above you.

“What's wrong, little slut?”

“N-nothing. I can take it.” He smiles, clearly pleased, long fingers easing out. He shoved them in your mouth, so deep, gagging and choking you, making hot tears start falling.

“My pretty girl is crying?” You nod, gasping, pussy still throbbing from your orgasms, struggling to come down to Earth. “Clean all this mess you made.”

Gojo kneels before you, and you get on your hands and knees, ready to do whatever he asks, but your body is weak. Mind weak. Gojo put his cock in your mouth, still massive after cumming, big hand grabbing your messy hair and wrapping it around his fist.

You eagerly lick and suck tasting a mix of tanginess and sweetness. You'd do anything for him, to please him, it was pathetic what he made you into. You're sucking off both of your cum, his trembling hand the only sign he wasn't in total control, shoving deep in your throat, and you took him as much as you could. He tilts your chin up, looking down at you, wiping your sticky tears and pulling away.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispered, brushing your hair back. “You did such a good job.”

“I did?” You ask, and he exhales, hugging you to him, caressing you so gently. You were still crying however, your chest heaving with your sobbing, unable to stop your shaking.

“Hey, hey, you alright baby?”

You nod, clearing your throat, snuggling against him. “It was just a lot… like too much…”

“Overstimulation?” You nod, and peek up at him, eyes still glittering with tears. “You can tell me to stop whenever you know. I want it to be fun for you.”

“No, I like it a lot. A lot. It's just also really overwhelming. Like losing my mind. Then when I come to I'm just…”

“Spent.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I'll take it easy with you next time. I'll make it sweet.”

You giggle at that, breathing still erratic. “You, sweet sex?”

“You doubt me?” You nod and he glares. “I can be sweet for you. Recover, and next time I'll show you. Make love to you and everything.”

“Mmm don't believe you.” He laughed, rocking you in his arms, pecking little kisses all over your head.

He pinched your cheek. “Let's clean up and get you some dinner.” He picked you up in his arms, and your head fell, tired against his chest, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Mmm. Kay.” You mumble, and he takes you to his bathroom, starting a shower. “Gojo we'll just fuck in there and I'm really exhausted.”

He smirked back at you. “I will not, if you just try to not be such a dick hungry slut.”

“Dick! Am not!”

“No?” He turns to you, naked, gorgeous, and your pussy is hurting, wrecked, but you realized he was kinda right.

“Nope.” You lie. He grins.

“Liar. All right, get in here and let me wash you up.” You walk to the large shower, marble and granite tile, three shower heads. It was luxurious.

The steam is hitting you, hot water is pounding on sore flesh, and Satoru Gojo is there, taking care of you.

You love it.

***

Two days later

You had woken up, getting ready as was routine, anticipating seeing Satoru, but then you peered down and saw it. A call from your brothers. Then a message, asking if you were okay because they knew how hard today was. You frown, brows furrowed in confusion, then it hits you like a goddamn tidal wave.

The tenth anniversary of their passing.

Had you been so happy lately you didn’t remember?

A decade since the world shattered, leaving you with a gaping hole where your parents once resided. It all starts hitting you, the guilt you felt for them having died and you having been in that car, having survived. It starts to shatter your psyche, your lungs cannot get air, and then you’re hyperventilating, blood pressure so high your ears are ringing and you’re bright red.

“No. No. No.” You hold your head, shaking it, hands in your hair, and then you fall apart.

You can’t let anyone see you like this. Every year you take off for this reason, but today it’s worse. You were so happy. How could you be happy today? What did it mean? Were you just so far entrapped in Satoru that these thoughts had been shoved away? Maybe you were.

You wanted him with you so badly. You craved his comfort, his voice, his touch, but no way could you bring him into this.

An hour later the world feels blurry, muted, devoid of the vibrancy it once held. Every corner echoes with their absence, every scent triggers a memory, every sound a phantom whisper of their laughter. You look to their pictures, making it all fucking worse, thinking of the jewelry you had of their ashes that is just shoved up in a little box because it hurt so bad.

You couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t see this dark side of you. The panic stricken anxious mess. You had to keep it together or he’d be scared, and fuck if you hadn’t fallen head over heels for him. He texted you. You were never, ever late. You ignored it, though it hurt to do so.

He called then, and you took a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together. “Hey Satoru, I’m sorry… I can’t come in today.”

“What? Are you okay?” Gojo asked softly over the phone. You struggle to find the words as you peer at the picture of your family. Happy. Smiling.

“Um… I'm kind of exhausted. I'm so sorry, Satoru. I'll definitely come to the work tomorrow though! I will be at the award ceremony too. I won't miss it. It's just today.” You couldn't bring yourself to tell him. The truth felt too heavy, too raw

You hear a sigh. “You never call in, fuck you’re never even late, so I got worried. I just saw you… is something wrong?”

“It's not… I promise I want to see you. I swear. I just can’t come today, I’ll make up whatever tomorrow.” You whisper the words. He's silent but you can hear him thrumming his fingers on his desk.

“Of course you can miss today if you need to. I'm never gonna be that asshole boss again to you. You work hard enough.”

You exhale in relief, smiling. God things had changed so much. “Thank you so much. I… I'll miss you until tomorrow.”

“You're being sweet, now I’m really worried. That's just weird. Do you need me to check on you? I will come over now.”

“No, I'm good!” Liar.

“Hmm. Okay, tonight?”

“No no don’t worry. Promise. Just need rest. I'll text you later.”

It hurt. You wanted to ask him to stay, wanted him to come over, his hug, his presence. But how could you put that grief on him? When it's still so new. He couldn't see you this way. Disheveled, mascara streaks, hair fucking messy and wearing his clothes for comfort. You wanted to drink wine, eat ice cream and fucking cry and it was just 9 am.

You missed them… and a new found pain was here, the pain you felt because you wished so terribly he could have met them… you…

“Baby, you there?” You clear your throat at his concerned question, shaking yourself out of your reverie.

“I'm here. Sorry. I… have to go. See you soon, promise.”

“Baby girl… I…” You nearly broke down at that. As he then said your name so softly. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Please let me know you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Satoru, I will! Promise.” You hang up, and place the phone on your dresser, then you just slide to the soft carpet below, curling up in a ball and holding yourself.

The call ended, but a knot of guilt twisted in your stomach. Gojo was trying and you were lying to him. Even if his antics sometimes bordered on the absurd, he was always honest with you. Why couldn’t you show him your full self, when he was so uniquely himself?

Because you were terrified to lose him.

You'd have to call your brothers now, to support them. You'd have to make sure to call your grandparents. You know this was even harder on them. But you didn't really wanna think today. Didn't want to feel. This overwhelming grief that shouldn't be here after this long. But it's always this day, always…

Fuck. You hated today.

***

The day dragged on, lonely after you’d cried it out with your brothers, with your grandparents, punctuated by the silence of your empty apartment. The echoes of your past had hot tears streaming down your face, blurring the memories that refused to be silenced. Blurring everything.

You choked alone on your grief.

Your stomach growled because you had not eaten since last night, and it was now about Four PM, but you wanted to vomit. You just were a ball of despair on your little couch, cuddled still in Satoru’s clothes, wishing you would be brave enough to answer his call, his text, but you weren’t brave. You still hadn’t even told him how you felt, so scared of everything.

You were just a crumpled mess of blankets and tears when there was a knock on the door. You didn’t bother to answer, to respond, just lay there, and then you heard it, his voice. You ached to get up, to go to the door, but you could not bring yourself to move, to have him see you in this way, so weak and pathetic, the opposite of him, so strong.

He was calling out your name, and before you knew it, he just walked in, a bag of food from his favorite place in one arm, looking to the right and then the left before those bright blue eyes landed on you. Gojo's smile faltered, the usual playful glint in his eyes replaced by a worried frown. He instantly put everything down and walked over to you.

“What the fuck! What’s wrong?” He sat you up, brows drawn together, studying your red puffy face. “Baby girl, please, you can tell me. Did something happen?”

“N-No.” You shake your head, your whole body is shaking.

“Come here.” Then Gojo took you in his arms, a silent embrace that somehow understood your pain, even though you had not told him why. He just held you there so tight.

You clung to him, your body trembling with a grief you couldn't articulate. He didn't ask for explanations, didn't push, just held you tight, his warmth a beacon in the darkness. For a while, you just stayed there, letting him sway you side to side, sobbing against his chest, inhaling his scent, and you realized that his presence truly made you feel whole.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” You were sobbing out the words, and he was shushing you, shaking his head, brushing your messy hair back.

“Why are you sorry? Stop that. I’m here, okay?” You nodded, gasping for breath, arms around his neck. He eases you back a bit, and you’d never seen him this way, as if he were afraid for you. He gently caressed your face. “Wanna talk about it? It may help.”

You take a small breath, and he hands you the box of tissues, you take one gratefully and blow your nose. He waits patiently. And you love him so much it hurts your heart in an entirely different way.

“Thank you for being here. I didn’t mean to worry you.” You smile sadly, hand on his face. He puts his atop yours, leaning into the embrace, attentive gaze unwavering on you.

“I have been worried sick all day but I didn’t wanna be a psycho. More psycho than I already am.” He smirked a bit, and you let out a tremulous smile. “I figured I’d just leave work early when you wouldn’t write back.”

“I’m glad you came. I should have just told you.”

“Told me what?”

“It’s the tenth anniversary of the car crash.” It’s silent, save for his steady breathing and your erratic breaths. His hand tightens on your own, letting you speak. “I get sad every year. I feel guilty. Especially this year, because I damn near didn’t remember, I’ve been so… happy with you.”

He held you against him again, firm, arms wrapping tight as he pulled you on his lap. “Why would you feel guilty about being happy?”

“Because… it’s like I’m forgetting.” You break down again, and he’s there for you, so sweet, so strong. “Fuck I didn’t want you to have to see this.”

“We’re together now. You’re mine. I will see you like this and it will not change any fucking feelings I have. Got it?” His words were husky, voice breaking, holding either side of your face. You fall apart worse.

“I… should have… told you. Fuck. I just…”

“Shh, stop.” You’re shaking, and his grip is tight. “Don’t you think they would want you happy?”

“Yeah.” You blow your nose again. “But I feel bad.”

“Stop that. You don’t think they’d want their daughter to move on? To find her own happiness, versus working herself to death and being fucking lonely.”

“Ouch.” The words were harsh, but true. He glares at you.

“This is not what they would want. I’m not them, and I didn’t know them, but I know damn well they’d be proud of you.” That broke the last defense you had, and now your tears were falling so fast tissues wouldn’t help.

“You think so?” You blink rapidly, and his smile is sad, his blue eyes just like the sky, just like him, so complex and so beautiful. And you were just a mess. And he still held you, despite everything.

“I know so. I know that when I have kids that they’ll be the most important thing to me, and their happiness.” His words made you melt. You clung to him, kissing him with chapped lips, and he clung to you, sighing into your mouth. “You’d make them super fucking proud, just look at you.”

“Look at me? A fucking mess.” You laugh erratically, and he smirks a little, pecking little kisses on your sticky face.

“You sure are. But I mean in general. Helping your brothers, law school grad, successful business woman. Kind human. There’s a lot to say good about you. You’re not just a stuck up bitch you know.” You sigh, and other thoughts converge. You get quiet. “Let me clean you up. Okay?”

You nod, then, he gently led you to the bathroom, sitting you up on your white counter, and starts running the water. He started helping you wash your face, brushing your hair. He didn't say anything then, he was just quiet, but his touch was soothing, his silence a balm for your aching soul, the presence of him bringing brightness to the darkness.

“Thank you so much. Really.” You murmur, as he applies a little vaseline to your lips, before pulling you down and turning you. You look all pink and your eyes are swollen, but Gojo is there, behind you. “You’re so pretty.” He chuckles at that.

“I know I am.” Gojo winks at you in the mirror, and he puts your hair up into a ponytail now, leaning low to kiss your cheek. “Better?”

You nod. “There was another thing that made it all worse today. And if I say it maybe you’ll think-”

“You can say anything.” He cut you off, and you turn in his arms, leaning your head back to peer up at him.

“It was worse because I thought to myself how they’ll never meet you.” Your tears burn your itchy eyes, and Gojo is silent, jaw tense, his own eyes glimmering with emotion as his thumbs brush your cheeks in little circles. He clears his throat, studying you carefully, lips parting.

“You would have wanted that?” He asked, and you felt his vulnerability then, needing that reassurance. You nod fervently, leaning up on tiptoes, pulling him down to face you.

“More than fucking anything. And I won’t have it. I even think further, to crazy shit I shouldn’t…”:

“Just say it all.” His own voice is raw with emotion. Vivid pictures of what could never be poured out everywhere as you clung to him.

“If we… I know it’s some kink… I get it. But it makes me think, if we did, have babies…” You gulped, and his eyes didn’t leave yours, jaw clenched. “That they wouldn't even have grandparents from my end.” You barely hold it together, and his eyes flicker, sighing, grabbing your face tight, making you face him.

“You are going through all this pain alone, for what?” He asked, and you shake your head, unable to speak anymore. You’ve already said too much and shown too much. “You are thinking of all these things out of your control.”

“I know. I know. And they’re stupid.”

“No.” His voice is firm as his grip. “They’re not stupid. It’s fucked what happened to you, they are things you’ll miss, but you can’t let it swallow you. Especially when I am right here with you.” You love him so much deeper than you even thought possible, fall deeper into the bottomless feelings for him, as he reassures you.

“You’re right. I appreciate you so much, Satoru, so much.” He kisses you then, firm, exhaling into your lips, arms falling down to wrap around your hips.

“It’s not just a kink by the way.” He whispered, and you tense, pulling back to look incredulously at him.

“I thought…”

“Yeah, I know… but if it happened, they’d have us. They would have all kinds of love. Wouldn’t they?” Your heart thumps in your chest at the implications of your conversation, and you nod, seeing a hint of relief, as he lowers tense shoulders just a bit. “There’s also other family of yours that I can meet. If you want.”

“That’s very true. They’d all love you.” You watch him, leaning above you, and you manage a small smile. “You have made me feel so much better. I guess I just have to try to let this guilt go.”

“I told you that you’re mine. That means I’ll take care of you.” You fall easily into his soft kisses, unlike anything you two had shared, intense in how emotional it was, the room so quiet as your body was going crazy with each touch.

“And I will be there for you. Whenever you need me. That’s pretty fucking corny, isn’t it?”

He grinned, a little sparkle of mischief back in his eyes. “We’re both being pretty corny today. I am mad at you though.”

You pout, sighing. “You are?”

“You didn’t trust me enough to let me take care of you.”

You bury your head against his chest. “It wasn’t that, I knew you would, it was that I didn’t wanna ruin this by seeing me this way.”

“You won’t ruin anything. Okay?” You nod, blissful as you two just stand there in your little bathroom, hugging. Then, your tummy growls, and you flush in embarrassment as he laughs. “Have you eaten?”

“Not since yesterday.”

“That’s what I’d thought. Come on crybaby.” You snort, smacking at him half heartedly, and he brings you back to the kitchen. “We gotta heat it up.”

“I got it.” You prep the microwave, and he’s kissing down your neck as you two wait for the food to warm up. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Gojo’s hand is hot, pressing on your tummy, the other on your waist, hands so big they nearly took over your body.

“I feel so safe with you. More corny things said today.” He smiled against your neck as he pressed a kiss to it.

“So corny. And such a crybaby. Had all that snot running down your nose.” You elbow him, and then you’re both laughing, holding your stomachs as you play fight around the kitchen.

“You were so sweet, you just had to be a little bit of a dick, huh?”

“Of course, who would I be if I wasn’t just a little?” He wiggled his brows, and then you two sat down, nibbling. Your hands still shake as you eat.

“This reminds me of last week, when you first came here.” You mused, and he nodded, hand on your thigh under the table, the weight reassuring.

“You’ll find it hard to get rid of me, now. I literally just let you sob on my expensive fucking shirt and everything.” He feigns disgust, making you laugh more. You both fall into a comfortable state, chatting, feeding each other, and soon you find yourself exhausted, yawning.

“I really need some clothes for you here.” You say, stretching in the only outfit of his here. His eyes look up and down your body.

“You like those, huh?”

You nod, tucking a strand of hair that escaped from your ponytail nervously, flushing. “They made me feel less lonely.”

You both are silent, and you curse yourself for being pathetic, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to make some joke to ease the tension, but he’s kissing you, deeply, leaning across the little table. You fall into it, breath now racing for an entirely different reason than earlier, the intensity of your feelings starting to become absolutely impossible to ignore anymore.

Loved him.

You loved him.

You felt loved, even if it wasn’t said, it was there.

His kiss was a lifeline, Gojo was your lifeline, pulling you back from the abyss of despair. You felt a sliver of hope flicker within you, a tiny spark of light in the darkness, bright as his eyes, as his soul. An ache builds in your chest, and you’re sitting on him now, cradled in his lap, and his hands are warm and hard as they’re under your shirt, on your back.

“Hmm. I’ll just have Kiyotaka bring me some clothes.” He says, and you smile.

“You don’t have to stay tonight, Satoru, it’s fine.”

“Hush brat.” He slips into his pocket, texting him, still having you wrapped around him as if it were just a normal thing. It felt so good. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

 You exhale, smiling. “Good, I didn’t want you to go.”

“Speak your mind more, then, little nun.” He taps your nose, and soon you two are cleaning up, and you change into your pink silky jammies, when you come back out Gojo has clothes already.

You let him get changed, and as the night wore on, you two had popped on a movie and he had blankets and pillows ready on the couch, you notice he’d cleaned up your pile of tissues. Then you were sipping on wine together. You laughed, cried more, but mostly just were so enwrapped in him that it felt like he was the very home you’d longed for.

You feel your eyelids getting heavy, and soon Gojo had taken the wine glass out of your hand. You blink a bit, so exhausted it’s hard to focus, and he picked you up in his arms.

“I’m always having to carry you all over.” He teased, and you smiled, feeling fuzzy as you lay down in your bed. Gojo sits there, running his long fingers through your hair, and sleep pulls at you.

“I sleep a lot around you… be… cuz I… comfy with you.” You mumble, in and out of consciousness. Did you even speak or think? You weren’t sure.

“Is that what it is? Need some cocaine?” You snort, snuggling deeper against the silky pillow, craving that hand that caressed your hair like it was a lifeline.

“No. Just comfy Satoru.”

“Mmm… you’re so cute when you’re sleepy.” You feel his lips press your temple, and you smile happily when you feel his weight shift, coming behind you and wrapping arms around your body tight.

“Comfy comfy… Satoru.” He laughs, and then you are drifting off to sleep, nestled in the warmth of his embrace.

Satoru stayed awake, watching over you as you slept, so pretty, so exhausted. He was glad he was ‘comfy’ as you murmured, silly little thing that you were. He was glad he could bring you any peace, for the pain you felt was like a knife to his heart, your words about you wanting him to meet your family had broken him. The sadness you bore alone…

He sighed, and his hand was gently stroking your hair, silky now from all of his brushing, earlier it had been in knots. Always so put together, he never knew how much you held in. He listened to your careful breathing, thinking how precious you had become to him.

You start to rustle, your pretty full lips parting. In your sleep, you suddenly murmured, “I love you, Satoru.”

Gojo froze then, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe his ears. The words whispered in your dreams startled him. Was it real? Was it…

“Do you?” He asked softly, craving your words then, craving your very being, pulling you tighter against him. His lips were on your ear.

“I love you… so much… Satoru. Love. Mmm. Don’t leave me. Please." His heart couldn’t have hurt more, at the desperation, even in your sleep. He felt unwanted emotion in his eyes threatening to fall.

Your words, even in your sleep, felt like a confession, a declaration of love that mirrored his own unspoken feelings, ones he was himself scared of. As brave as he acted, losing you would destroy him. Even today he’d been so scared he’d fucked it up somehow... that you were done… and he was glad he came over, glad he could cheer your pretty face up, that he made you comfy.

You were comfy to him too.

Without you, he didn’t sleep.

Gojo held you tighter, his lips brushing your hair, and fell asleep right beside you, falling into the comfortable sound of your heart beating and your steady breaths. He would do anything for you.

***

When you woke, the sun was filtering through the curtains, casting golden rays across the room. You stretch, yawning, and reach across from you to find that Gojo was already up. You frown for a moment, worried he’d left, but then the aroma of bacon and pancakes filled the air, a comforting scent that brought a smile to your face. You stand and head to the kitchen.

There he is, all tall and shirtless, fucking gorgeous man, and he’s making you breakfast. You come and smack his butt playfully, he jerks, turning and taking out an ear bud with a devilish grin.

“I could get used to this, too.” You say, and yank him for a little kiss.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” He said, hugging you. “Are you feeling a little better?” You nod.

“Much, much better. This smells so good.”

“You need to eat more. I told you, I won’t have you losing this ass.” He grabs a handul and you blush, much to his delight.

“I’ll make coffee!” You pop a coffee pod, grabbing the creamer, and it’s just so easy with him, like you two had done this for years. “Are we late for work?”

“Nah it’s early still. Thank you.” You hand him a cup first, with tons of sugar as he liked, then set to working on yours. “Have a seat, let me serve you milady.”

You giggle, taking your hot cup of coffee, sitting at the table and watching him work his magic. “I didn’t even know you cooked.”

“I love to cook.” Your heart is swelling with a mix of gratitude and an emotion you couldn't quite name. He sits a plate down for you, and you both dig in, the pancakes are so fluffy you’re moaning.

“So yummy!” You continue to nibble, and he’s watching you, with a serious look on his face. You frown. “What’s wrong?”

He looks away, almost as if he was shy, Gojo shy? No way.

“Last night when you slept…”

“Did I snore?” You tease, but he’s just forking his food, seriously. “Did I take all the blankets?”

“Nah.” He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, and your anxiety rised a bit, taking a bite yourself and trying to stay calm.

“What was it?” His eyes were bright blue as the sun filtered through the window, his hair was falling soft against his forehead, breathtakingly handsome across from you. It made you tremble. “Now I’m nervous. Just say it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away, once again as if he were shy or something, it threw you off. You lick your lips nervously, waiting. “Well, you kind of talk in your sleep.”

You sigh in relief, laughing. “Oh, I always have.”

“Yeah…”

“Did I say weird shit?” You pick up another bite, mood cheery now, but then his next words…

“You said you loved me.”

Your fork clatters to the plate, making a shockingly loud clang, and your eyes are wide, mouth open in a startled gasp.

Chapter 11

Ao3 chap

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55424137/chapters/142312984

[pynkhues]

Why are people so mean about Sam? Even if they hate Lestat, Sam is NOT Lestat. He is an actor. Lestat is a fictional character.

Oh gosh, anon! I mean - - yeah. Mmmm, look, I had a surprise friend over this evening, and have had a few wines, so yeah, let's talk about this.

I think there are a few factors at play overall, but having been here for a while now, honesetly, I think it's a combination of virtue signaling, and a portion of fans feeling like he's simply fair game in a way the rest of the cast isn't.

I don't know, this might end up being a controversial post, but I think it's pretty impossible to deny that a large portion of the animosity in this fandom is directed towards him, and I do think a significant part of that comes down to the fact that this is a fandom who - and I hate this term - considers itself 'woke'. People are very, very conscious about how they're perceived in this sort of landscape, and I do think it effectively leads to that horseshoe theory, where people are posturing to the point of radicalising themselves around things they don't necessarily believe.

In a lot of ways Sam, as the white lead of the show opposite Jacob, Assad and Delainey, becomes symbolic, and the fact that he's got wealth behind him, and - it sounds silly to say, but I think it's true - pretty privilege in being very conventionally handsome, I think eats people up. I think they feel he's symbolic of rich white men in the media landscape and - fascinatingly - I think they still want to fuck him. I think that manifests in a whole bunch of ways (it's obviously very prevalent in the fic that gets posted in this fandom), but particularly in this sort of vitriolic stalking which honestly feels a bit female-incel-y to me.

I think the rest of the cast are targeted in different ways - I answered an ask just last week about how Jacob's opinion is often written off by portions of the fandom because he's British and light skinned, and I've certainly witnessed a lot of colourism in this fandom in every direction. I also personally feel the feminisation of Louis (and Jacob) sometimes (not always! But sometimes) has an element of fetishising his emasculation and subjugation that I personally find actually pretty racist and disturbing, and I think Assad and Armand both are divorced from their South Asian heritage more than Assad should be as an actor, and the show's Armand as a character, and that I've seen (and been sent!) some pretty gross comparisons betwen Delainey and Bailey.

I don't know. I'm not trying to judge or condemn anyone, I just observe and think lot, I guess, and I do think this fandom is made up of a lot of people who grew up on the internet who are arriving with Discourse as opposed to compassion borne from real life experiences. That includes twitter threads over human conversations, porn over sex, and ephemeral 'mutuals' over real friends. I'm not judging that, I hope people know at this point that I never would - it's been a really hard five years - but I do think this sort of aggregation online has resulted in these sorts of subculture pockets of people who live with an idea of what is 'good' and what is 'bad'. And yeah, a part of that means finding Sam hot as a white man from a wealthy background in a show with many POC becomes an issue! BUT, if they can virtue signal over not being interested in Sam, they can fantasise about Lestat, y'know? They can tell everyone Sam's 'bad' as they write their fics about Lestat fucking Louis (or a self-insert, or Louis, as a self-insert) five ways from Sunday, because Lestat's not real, and Sam is, so they remain Moral in the overall Discourse that exists only in the subcultures online.

Oof. Okay, sorry, that's a little harsh, even to me having just written it, haha. Mm, like I said, I think there are a few things at play, but I do think that there is a degree of projection that's pretty impossible to deny, just as I feel Sam is a vehicle for the frustrations people have with the show. I think maybe people are reluctant to explicitly criticise Jacob, Assad and Delainey (again, I stress explicitly, because I think people do it plenty in other ways), and Sam does kind of feel a bit like fair game in that sense. I think he becomes an outlet for people's frustrations with the show in a way the other actors don't, and I think that's tied both to his whiteness and the fact that he's about to be the lead.

I think a lot of that is subconscious though, or at least I hope it is, and built perhaps on anxiety over where the show's going to go over all, especially from people who refuse to see Lestat as the inevitable protagonist.

[melliemell]

Pairing: Jouno x reader

Contents: SFWish, interrogator jouno, reader has a mind control ability, improper use of tea, CW for noncon and dubcon elements but nothing too major, he's an ass and there are consequences duh, Approx 2.8k

The problem with having an unconventional ability–

–is that it rarely goes as you planned, yes, but boy does it do good for entertainment. 

“My, you seem to be in good spirits today.” Jouno sipped from his teacup leisurely before resting it back down on the saucer. The audible clink of porcelain rang in the small room like a ripple. You swallowed the sound up as your heart thumped fast suddenly. Your eyes bore into where it rested in his hands. 

Tea. He brought tea. 

“Such a shame to waste it all up in here, wouldn’t you agree?” he said. Jouno smiled at you then, lips pulled in a pleasant, almost friendly expression. And entirely fake. 

He was tormenting you and enjoying it, yet he had no idea what he’d just done. None at all. You could fall into hysterical laughter then and there just by the thought of it. The…

The opportunity.

Hopefully… soon. Yes, soon. 

The hunting dog came here from time to time. Trotting in, chair in toll and all. But it was hard to draw an exact pattern. The small white room you’ve been confined to seemed suspended in time and devoid of all life. Except you– its sole occupant for, hmm, days? Definitely days, but how many weeks? You had to give it to them; their tactics of extracting information were very creative, in an unpleasant, cruel type of way. Your eyebags were proof enough of it.

Maybe they were hoping the isolation would bring about your betrayal of the Agency. Sooner or later you’d give in and beg for freedom. It was a close call, you couldn’t deny it. It was taking its toll on you, and that’s why… it had to work. Now. If not now…

“Can’t I enjoy your company without your jabs?” you said, forcing a calm demeanour. “We both know you won’t be letting me out anytime soon.”

“Quite observant, aren’t you?” Jouno said, voice pleased. “I see you’ve had some time to ponder.”

You held your tongue. The first time Jouno came here, all smugness and not a filter to his mouth your fist flew right through his face, the small white particles dispersing before they rearranged into his twisted grin. You could barely stand him then. Now he was merely a pest. An entertaining one, yes, but still unpleasant.

You really didn’t like him.

“All I can do here is that, thanks to your wrongful accusations,” you said evenly.  

Jouno laughed, light and completely devoid of merit. “Your loyalty is admirable, I’ll give you that. Actually I’m impressed by it.” He leaned in. Even with his eyes closed you felt him bore into your soul. “I’ve always upheld the belief in equal devotion. And yet here you are, completely forgotten by the ones you’d give all for. Left to rot away. A shame.”

You couldn’t deny it, Jouno was really good at jabbing right where it hurt. Yet his visits were the only form of stimuli you got in here. He might be the only thing keeping you from completely losing it, yet he never failed to struck at your nerves, playing you like a fiddle each and every time.

You held your ground, you did. As hard as it was. But this time, he needed to feel like he was winning if he were to trust you enough for your plan. Or fall for it.

You looked down, keeping still.

“What’s the matter?” Jouno probed, the bastard enjoying this. “I apologise for my frankness, but I can only offer the truth.”

“Shut it,” you said quietly, voice honeyed with self-doubt to the fucking moon.

Jouno only hummed, raising his cup for another sip. 

Your eyes followed the entire movement; from his firm grip over the handle to the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. Forcing your body to react as strongly as it could brought a strain, but it was worth it. Jouno might be blind but he relied on his other senses to read his opponents. Every detail counted.

He had to pick up your signs. You were going to force him.

You saw his lashes flutter, head cocked to the side as though observing you. You held your breath.

Finally… “In that case,” Jouno said, straightening up with a lazy stretch. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was looking forward to our little chats but since you wish me gone–”

Your heart dropped, panic engulfing you. “No,” you said before you could stop. “Please don’t go.” 

Damn it.

“Oh?” Jouno swirled the tea around in his cup. That smile was back in place, spreading wider by the second. “You change your mind so quick lately; this place really has a bad effect on you.”

You bit back your reply. It’s what he wanted, after all. You could do better than that. 

“Well you should up your game on the decor, it’s depressing just looking at it.” You hesitated, before, “Food too. Is only white rice the best you could do? Talk about a small budget.”

Jouno considered you, remaining quiet for a few seconds too long to your liking. Maybe it was more a game of chance, all this. Who knew what the other was thinking?

“Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?” Jouno asked, head tilted. “How delusional.”

“From you?” You laughed, voice hollow. “No, I know there’s no point in that.”

“So we’ve learned quite a bit about each other, it seems. How educational.” Jouno tapped against his cup, humming. “And boring.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“You should be, yes. I have no interest in you personally. And your quietness has been disappointing, ” Jouno said, sighing. “What a waste of good time it’s been. Anyway, we’ve been dealing with your little friends of late. Not much need of you now then, I'm afraid.”

Your body froze, heart seizing as worry engulfed you. “Dealing how?”

“No one can escape judgment.” Jouno ignored you, hand swirling his tea in his cup. “Sooner or later. Just as you now, and seeing as you won’t be needed I believe this will be our last little chat.”  

He waited for your answer, relaxed as ever.

You could only laugh heartlessly at this. He could be playing you for all you knew. But a small tug at the back of your mind screamed. 

Last chance, your ass. He’d be back. He will be. But when? How long until next time?

How long until you can help your people?

Act now and regret it later sounded so much sweeter now.

“Thrown away like a stray, huh,” you finally said.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Jouno’s lips curved. “You’ll be safe and sound– right here.”

You looked up at the ceiling, gut twisting. You certainly looked the part of a depressed person. “Can I get at least a small mercy? Or am I too lucky to have you as my guarding dog?” 

“Of course you may ask,” Jouno said. “I’d be happy to hear your sorrows and provide no absolvement for them.”

You looked at him then. To this stupid man and his stupid smug face who would rather spend hours enjoying your torment than do his job. Upholding the law sounded like bullshit coming from him. What law? He could hardly discern being played with by his real enemies, how could you ever trust him to uphold the law? 

If he so liked being deceived then let him be your guest. 

Let him.

“That tea,” you began quietly, wetting your lips. “May I have of it? Please,” you added, looking anywhere but at Jouno.

There. You sounded pathetic enough. Hopefully desperate too. But it wasn’t for you to decide. 

You waited.

“Is that so?” Jouno trailed a finger over the cup’s rim. 

“You can just say no,” you said, forcing the words out. “No need to be an ass.”

Jouno tapped the handle, head rising up. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m considering.”

“You are?”

“I really don’t like people like you, you know,” Jouno said. “Trying to squeeze by unscratched, believing yourself to be above the rest. You run and run, and then you get caught because that’s how it is. Yet the shock is still there. It’s not hard to connect the dots; you reap what you sow.”

Ah. He was going on his favourite little rant again. Not good. “So you’ve said.”

“Then you know what my answer is.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I see.”

You had a guess; not a pleasant one. You wouldn’t be getting anything unless you gave back in return. The golden rule. Like you hadn’t already said the truth. All the rest was details they were sure to use in fucking up even further. But…

There was a gamble in this. One that wasn’t of much use, but it would surely be worth at least a damned cup of tea. 

You didn’t even need to drink the whole thing, really, you just needed your lips to touch it. Only that. Transferring saliva was a tricky thing, but if done unnoticed, Jouno’d be at your mercy. 

“I could…” you began, eyes boring into Jouno’s face. “I could tell you of my ability, then.”

“My my,” Jouno whistled. “You must despise rice that much.”

Your nose flared. Food felt more like a chore here, the necessity of it the only driving force behind you eating it. Some days even chewing was hard; forcing your weak body to rise from bed only to swallow a spoon of cardboard rice was too much before you huddled back onto your small bed.  

Pathetic. 

But not eating meant death.

“It’s what I offer,” you said, forcing your voice to be stern.

“Hmm, tempting. Yours and your allies’ as well.”

“No. Only mine.”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll decline,” Jouno said.

Damn him. Like hell you were going to say all that.

“That tea must have gold leaves in it if you want so much,” you said.

“It’s not what’s inside, it’s how much you want it.” Jouno smiled.

Damn him. You were getting impatient. “My ability and how to deactivate it. Nothing more.”

Jouno peaked. “Deactivate?” You didn’t like the look on his face. “So it’s effect-based.”

“Why, if you want to know more– you know how,” you said, voice sweet.

Talking to him always sent you back and forth. It’s no wonder they chose Jouno as your interrogator; he was truly marvellous at crawling under your skin. Types like his were better to deal with first lest they cause more problems.

“Fine,” Jouno finally said, your eyes widening at the sudden change. “You have yourself a deal.”

The moment your hands touched the porcelain, Jouno stretching it out to you, your mind blanked. The water was dark, maybe black tea? it smelled nice but you were never good with smells. A deep scent that engulfed your senses as your stomach growled just from the proximity.

This… you’ve– damnit. You could almost cry. Such a small thing and they’ve managed to get you to a point where a stupid cup of tea could almost bring you to a meltdown. You tried to push away the memories of your warm bed, the curtains flapping to a distant breeze as light seeped in. Daylight. 

Not the hospital white they had here.

But it didn’t matter. Not when you knew Jouno’s whole attention was directed to you. 

You brought the cup to your lips, your movements slow. 

You’ve… never done this before. The idea of it so absurd you began to now doubt its success. And yet, you licked your lips; try as best you could to transfer part of your saliva into the liquid. Just a drop; no need for more.

Any liquid from your body should do the trick. Blood was ideal, yes, but it’s not like you could shove a bloodied palm in Jouno’s face and say ‘drink’. He’d probably have an opinion on the matter. 

No, no– this was best. The only option. As far-fetched as it was…

You knew mind control abilities were as powerful as they were rare. But only if the right conditions were met. Yours just happened to be on the peculiar side.

So long as your target ingested it… Not that you knew how exactly you’d make Jouno. The best guess was if he’d drink from the tea after you. But– 

You drank a few gulps, barely stopping yourself from more. It wasn’t part of the plan.

“Well?” Jouno asked.

You swallowed, the segments of an idea forming. You looked down at the tea, your heart racing with the possibility. Jouno’s brows furrowed. 

“Yeah,” you said absently. You stretched your hand. A starving prisoner would goble the entire thing; not just sip like a dainty lady and then give it back obediently. You knew that. 

And most importantly– Jouno did too.

There wasn’t time to self-doubt. He wouldn’t drink from it. Not when he expected your answer. No, the tea was nice, warm. It left a pleasant tingle inside your mouth; one you let engulf your senses as you gripped the handle harder, pulling back just enough to set the momentum of throwing the hot water against Jouno’s face.

It was rather comical. Jouno sitting before you, face straight as his hand went to the sword at his waist– only to have your wrist flick tea at his face a second later, the droplets falling down his perturbed face as you both sat still in silence.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, blinking at him. “My bad.”

A swishing sound and you found the end of a sharp blade pressing into your neck with Jouno standing over you.

He… looked angry. About eighty percent angry, maybe. Hopefully. The tea trailed down the curve of his cheeks, nose… the cupid bow of his lips. A few fell onto your thighs, staining your pants dark.

“I see you’re finding ways to amuse yourself. How is that turning out for you?” Jouno said, the blade pressing into your skin. 

You winced, head tilting. You focused on a drop trickling down Jouno’s cheek, only to stop at the end of his lips. You smiled. “Pretty good.”

“Amusement time’s over then. We’ll see how lucky you’d…” 

Jouno’s words felt distant, your focus entirely drawn to the sensation in your body. The ever-recognisable tingle of your ability on the crisp of activation. The pull was barely there, you doubted it would hold for much of anything, so you had to make do with what you had until now.

You imagined your hands reaching out and clasping at a string. And you pulled.

“Jouno,” you said, cutting him mid-sentence. “Don’t move.”

A cool wave washed over you as Jouno had but a second to scoff indignantly before his body seized up, muscles locked in position as his face relaxed into the all too familiar expression of blank obedience.

You stood up quickly, nearly toppling as your sight turned black. But it didn’t matter. Your hands found purchase in Jouno’s triceps as you pulled him in, smashing your lips against his. 

The tea was barely enough for one command. And you were just getting started.

You reached up, hand clasping Jouno’s jaw as you forced his lips open. He tasted of coffee, not at all what you expected as your tongue moved against his. You didn’t know how long you had to do this, it’s not like there was a manual on ability use. But you held him in place, your worry spiking until you could sense the strings wrapping around Jouno, your ability building up in strength by the second.

“Relax,” you whispered against Jouno’s lips, the command forcing you to tighten your grip around him as he staggered against your body. “Not that much, fuck!” you said, scrambling to keep you both up. The sword slipped down with a loud cling.

Okay, this was… good. Manageable. Could have been worse. You pulled at the strings, feeling him being engulfed by them entirely.

You drew back to look at Jouno’s face. The annoyed pull at his muscles was gone, his expression bordering on serenity that barely suited him. For all his cruelty, you didn’t feel like throwing the same back at him. Your thumb trailed down his cheek, caressing curiously. He could almost be pretty if those smiles had any real emotion behind him. 

It’s a shame people like him existed. Kindness was foreign to him, all the more reasons to not feel bad for doing this.

“Jouno,” you began, drawing his attention to your words. “Get me out of here. Discreetly, please,” you added. 

Jouno straightened up, picking up his sword. Within seconds you were in a long hallway, your steps echoing into the vast emptiness beyond. 

Your entire body tingled with excitement. Hope. The place you were in could have been at the other end of the world for all you knew, but as long as you held Jouno under your ability– yeah, you’ll be okay. 

You thought you’d feel bad about it, at least a bit. But the emotion wasn’t there and it didn’t come the longer you moved, your steps steady behind Jouno’s the entire time. 

You began to smile. If luck would have it, you might end up bringing a hunting dog to the agency yourself. You doubted Jouno would mind. 

Not anytime soon at least.

...

and now I crave jouno hate sex, love it when that happens

thanks for reading!

[tiredetective]

Ace Attorney Re-ishdesigns!

aka me being absolutely bored out of my mind to try and create different designs for characters that would be interesting to have in a trilogy together!

Notes below!

So kept it simple with Phoenix and Miles. I honestly don't mind their designs overall and felt it'd be important to simply keep a simple idea with them.

I do kind of think Miles' coat is a little awkward loooking in the games, so fuck it -- give this man the long waist coat

I also added elements of Kay and Trucy because dadworth and dadnix! <3 (plus Franziska earring)

Lastly, I decided to give Phoenix two different kinds of shoes. Yes, he's theoretically like- the big boss and i guess professionallism but fuck it, i stand for phoenix wearing sneakers for the CONVENIENCE

----------------------------------------

Next is... Kay and Trucy!

I'll be honest, it's hard to redesign Trucy. But I don't know about her 3D model... something feels off.

So, I decided to go with a white dress shirt-ish look.

I also think, since Phoenix calls Trucy her shining light, it'd be interesting if she switched to a star motif, which is where I get all my choices for the simplified cloak and emblem on it.

But she still has a heart ida-bag from Edgeworth and Kay!

Finally! Smug Kay

I don't have many notes on her design, it being more for looks and a practical aspect than anything. But! It matches nicely with trucy and edgeworth's while also being distinctly hers.

no phoenix because i didn't really wanna add anything blue I suppose? If there was soemthing from pheonix, it'd be hidden, like playing cards!

-----------------------------------

It was fairly easy what I wanted for Apollo and Athena

Apollo - JACKET, Khur'ain clothing (from staying there for a few years), scars, and EAARING!!

Jacket's similar to Clay's and his adopted dad (have not seen any gameplay of aa5-6, so I don't know all of the significance yet...)

Khurain clothing is from his vest, sort of like a button open up

He has his scars from aa5 and earring's from Trucy and Phoenix!

I need his actual in-game deign to incorporate- like- the things in his life PLEASE

~~

Athena - Athletic and spunky + implementation of headphones!

Everything is pretty similar from her old design and what many other redesigns from other artists have,

Catch is that I added suspenders that matches with Phoenix's, changed her tie, sneakers, and short hair!

Most assymetrical symmetrical design I could think of... (unintentionally)

OH ALSO EYEBROW NOTCH FOR ATHENA, ODD EYEBROW TRIO COMPLETE!!!

--------------------

Lastly!! Iris, Adrian, and Pearly!!

I've recently gotten a little crazy over Adrian x Iris art from @handsometimr and I think it's honestly a really cool potential dynamic <33

SO YOU GET THAT, I GUESS?

Pearl, I'd imagine, would still be trying to stick to her training and actually - for a good period during the 7 year gap - lived with Iris and the familiar Adrian!

I kept Pearl in her outfit, but with a jacket and seashell to clip into her hair. (agaain, idk what happened in aa5 so-- just making ideas up)

Iris and Adrian!! Either engaged, married, gfs IDK

Adrian's outfit is pretty based of her design in aa3

but Iris is to be basically breaking out of her form, doing whatever she wants, but still keeping a little piece of Dhalia with her through the necklace.

But ofc, short hair and braids. perfect <33

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk haha!

[antoniabishop]

The best local underground music I heard this year:

really incredible folk punk rock; this track in particular is very upbeat with a bluegrass feel. perfect for fans of Heretic Pride or Goths-era mountain goats; Aria's voice and arrangements have a very similar quality. a friend of his in a different act described Coffin Salesman as "The best band in Boston"

Thou Merciless Graves is a concept project written by lead singer and guitarist Growler Graves (Caitlin) after two battles with breast cancer. The show is about a selkie whose skin is taken by a lighthouse keeper and her relationship with him as he tries to get it back. It won two huge awards at the Boston Fringe and involved a gorgeous cast of bioluminescent jellyfish (umbrellas) and eel (think Chinese dragon) and a lighthouse keeper on stilts in a yellow slicker, hunched over like a tumor. Not all the music is on spotify yet, but this will give you a taste of how amazing it is.

Eden is a freshman at Berkelee and all her players are incredibly talented young students as well! The production value is probably the closest to professional as anyone on this list; Aruna's influences are in the wheelhouse of Billie Eilish and Clairo. Dreamy, breathy, longing-pop.

This is the title track and final track on my friend Justin's album which just came out a few days ago. We actually met at a Mountain Goats show, but by contrast Justin favors the more stripped, acoustic, Zopilote/West Texas sound. She and her girlfriend have such an enviously lovely queer community atmosphere developed out in rural MA where they just opened a performance space. Really the GOATs of lifting up fellow queer creatives and fighting the power.

My friend Aria of Coffin Salesman does a music discovery podcast and this is just hands down my favorite song he's ever shared. So good.

Bluesy, romantic offering from my friend and coworker Tyler who has written and sold songs for one of the most achingly romantic voices on the radio right now... though I won't say who 🤫. "The names" are also all really incredible players; the organist in particular does some really incredible stuff all over their spotify. This song is one of their gentlest offerings; they can really turn it up to 11 on the chaos.

Currently touring America, this guy is fucking nuts. Confessional, personal folk punk kind of like if Kimya Dawson were a little bit older and a little more nuts. This is an incredible album.

Outta Western MA, this guy has the cacophonic elements of Tyler and the Names with the orchestral sophistication of Neutral Milk Hotel or Frank Zappa. It's hard to pick a single off this album, as its cohesive overall arc is a huge part of it, but if you like the taste you should listen to the album beginning to end. Chris performs in a ski mask and the performances are often rearranged, interactive, and one-of-a-kind, with many props, lights, etc.

More stripped acoustic confessional folk punk sung by a whiny voice; do you think I have a type? 🤔 lmao.

This guy is 4 years sober after being really really big in the scene and falling hard. These days his stuff pushes the limits of the form, much like the Leafies but in a very different way. Chris is an incredible poet with an incredible voice.

Closing it out with another big party banger like White Girl, Wasted. Originally from Scotland, I saw Goodbye Blue Monday's first US show when they opened for Coffin Salesman. Good classic rock to thrash around to about experiences being bipolar and such. Really good fun.

what was really special about this is that I started going to shows chiefly to see my friend Tyler (Had to Let You Know) and discovered everybody else by meeting other acts on the bill, following them on insta, and going to their shows, on this incredible self-fulfilling upward spiral feedback loop tailored to taste.

most of these songs have <2000 streams on spotify, so they're really quite small, and your listening to them makes a huge difference! so thank you if you give them a chance 🖤 I have had the time of my life discovering the scene and I can't wait to share more with you. And feel free to drop a line in my ask box letting me know what you think!

[shiki-jin]

YOUR CELESTIAL MAJESTY • SAGAU

(part 0 here)

was listening to TruE on loop while writing the last part of this, it's genuinely such a good song ugwvdya

also can you spot the contradiction ;D it's plot relevant i promise

not proofread, dont bully me ill write a thesis on why youre a meanie

—

you had long deleted genshin, since you had other things to do. you had wanted to go back to the game for a while now, now that you were less busy, but there was just one little problem.

it was now taking up nearly triple the amount of space that it was when you uninstalled it. around 300 whole gigabytes.

jesus christ, what phone can even handle this???

your phone, apparently. because as you opened the game to see if maybe a miracle would happen and that if maybe they would just, like, remove half of the things in the game, it just… kinda loaded?

no installing new files, no checking for anything, no nothing…. just an immediate pan to the gates of celestia.

you decided to check if it was the right genshin since this was just way too weird, but countering your judgement, every link you found led you to the same game, leading you to believe it not to be a bootleg or an illegal version.

guess i’ll trust it then.

you clicked on the gates which opened smoothly, and your screen turned white. then, the symbols of the seven elements appeared in gray.

and then the game just… opened. no loading time, once again. no getting stuck on the geo symbol, nothing. nada. just a smooth entrance into what you had to assume to be teyvat — but your surroundings didn't really support that claim.

the grass was brown and just looked off, the sky was gray. a darker shade than, say, mond’s walls, but it was like one of those game crashes.

well, except you could still move around.

you moved your current character around (the traveller? since when were they the only one in your team?) and decided to open the map after not figuring out where you could possibly be.

hold on, this is springvale? since when?

eveything looked dead, like it had been rotting for a century. you tried to ignore it though, and teleported to the inside of mondstadt. surely this was just some glitch, right? one that would fix itself if you teleported?

maybe the world loaded incorrectly, maybe the fact that nothing took time to load meant that it couldn't load, maybe this or that, maybe…

maybe this really was how the game looked normally. you hadn't done any quests though, so you wondered if it could be restored.

you took a screenshot of the your surroundings — the stone, worn down and dirty. the houses which looked to be in a horrible state, and… the npcs, all sickly and pale, like they were starving.

you went to reddit (yes, reddit), and posted the screenshot, asking if it was normal.

you closed the game and decided to take a nap, too tired to really deal with this shit any further.

while you slumbered, people replied to your post.

╰┈➤ lol me too anon, me too

╰┈➤ isn't the game closed or wtv? how'd you get this wtf

╰┈➤ they're trolling

╰┈➤ o makes sense oops

╰┈➤ So we’re all still mourning huh

╰┈➤ jokes aside that's a super impressive edit ngl

you remained unaware of the truth, but you'd find out soon enough.

actually, you'd find out now, apparently…

what the fuck?? why is my bed so hard now?

you groaned and forced your eyes open, seeing a dark, nearly black sky.

the only light was a single star, lingering right above you.

“since when was i outside...?"

a voice spoke to you, answering your question.

“you always have been, have you not? but would you like to head inside, my lord?”

... huh? i recognize that voice...

—

p.s. place your bets on who it is, i’m thinking of one specific character but if there's a fan fav i'll make it them instead since i haven't written anything beyond this point (⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠;⁠)

p.s.s. don't expect updates to this series too quickly, i wish i could write as quick as i think of ideas but sadly that's not the case orz

[seramilla]

So how would Vaggie react to learning she’s now wrapped up in an arranged marriage? And since this is before she falls…does that mean Charlie is in her emo phase still??

Vaggie is really intimidated at being betrothed to the literal princess of Hell. Of course, she knows who Charlie is -- there isn't a person in Heaven or Hell who doesn't. Some years past, however, in her late teens, Charlotte Morningstar had gained somewhat of a reputation for being a rebel. Before she graduated from Hell High School, the Heaven tabloids used to publish stories of Charlie with a lot of unflattering photos of the young demon, wearing her hair and wardrobe black, reporting that she'd been running around with some wild characters, going to raves and parties, getting in trouble, and generally causing a lot of debauchery, even by Hell's standards.

Charlie has managed to stay out of the public eye for the last few years since she's come of age. Honestly, it's anyone's guess what the princess is really like these days. Only Sera, the High Seraphim of Heaven, and the one primarily responsible for finding Charlie's betrothed, assures Vaggie that the princess is nothing like what the media says. She doesn't do anything so rebellious now, and a lot of those tales were highly exaggerated anyway. Charlie is a perfectly delightful, upstanding citizen, and she assures Vaggie she will love her to pieces!

They ultimately meet at a party. One of those swanky, posh soirées that the nobility of both realms like to hold at the Heaven embassy in Hell. Sera is in attendance with her own wife, Carmilla, and they are off doing their own thing. Vaggie stands there in her white gown and fancy shoes that Sera bought her for the occasion, with her hair tied up in an elaborate bun. She stands next to some other highbrow angels, feeling completely awkward and out of her element. No one is talking to her.

She stays near the punch bowl and snack table, nibbling on things throughout the night to curb her own anxiety. She feels so out of place. She hasn't even been introduced to anyone, let alone Charlie! She's starting to wonder why she's even here at all.

It's not until a very beautiful, very coquettish woman in a red gown comes up to stand beside her, holding out her hand to be shaken. Vaggie looks down at her hand, and then up at her. She's tall. Very tall. Maybe around Carmilla's height, or a little less. The woman looks nervous, and she's blushing slightly, unable to meet Vaggie's gaze directly. Her other hand moves up to push stray locks of hair from falling in her face.

"H-hi!" the woman says, with a genuine smile. "I'm Charlie! You must be Vaggie! Carmilla has told me so much about you. I wanted to come say hello earlier, but I don't get to meet many angels. And you're just so... so pretty. Oh, shit, did I say that out loud? Forgive me! I admit, I was a little intimidated at meeting you. But I didn't want to be rude."

Vaggie looks at Charlie again. The princess is still holding out her hand, now biting her bottom lip in anticipation of Vaggie shaking it. Vaggie does. Charlie's fingers grip hers tightly, manicured red nails grazing lightly against Vaggie's hand. Vaggie maybe shakes Charlie's hand a little too hard, and takes a little too long to pull away.

"Va-vaggie. Yes, my name is Vaggie. Please! The pleasure is all mine, princess, I assure you."

That gets a laugh out of Charlie. She's beaming brightly now, like a light illuminating the otherwise dull illumination of the room. Like a morning star. Now Vaggie is the one blushing, as she listens to her talk about nothing in particular.

Oh, this! This...Vaggie thinks she could get used to this. She could get used to this very well!

[fairlylocalkatiee]

heyyyy!! i’ve been back on my tøp bs and i have been on the hunt for writers.. therefore here i am. 🫡

this won’t be a very detailed request because i’m not very creative LMFAO however the jimmy fallon performance CHANGED! MY! LIFE! i was wondering if you could write a tyler x reader where tyler is going to perform, either at jimmy fallon or yk his own show. and the reader is just 😍 obsessed with this man. and tyler knows this so he subtly flirts with reader on stage, gets a kinda bold you knowww..

and yeah, after the show reader can’t take her hands off of him. and tyler gets cocky about it & teases her. just that concept, of course if this is overstepping or anything feel free to ignore this LMFAOAOA

Hello anon!! This was my first request and Thankyou SO much for it! I hope you don’t mind that I basically turned it into Porn without much plot 🤣🤣🤣 anyways— I was also heavily obsessed with that preformance and if you haven’t seen this one I describe in this fic from the takeover tour I highly recommend it 😫 here. I kinda took this request and ran with my own little spin on the idea so I hope you like what I chose to do with it! Requests are still open 🥵🤩

Word count: 1684

Content warnings: This is straight porn. You’ve been warned lol. Unintentional but not unwelcome praise kink.

Read with Ao3

Painted

——

The familiar beat of message man began to thrum through the arena as you danced with the fans on the side of the stage, watching your boyfriend Tyler perform. You loved seeing him in his element. There was something so sexy about watching how confident he was on stage.

He locked eyes with you for a split second as he slid off his jacket, revealing a fitted white button up that he left halfway unbuttoned revealing his chest tattoos and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The collar of the shirt stained with paint from his neck. Paired with fitted black pants and his docs you could feel your body physically reacting to how mouth watering he looked.

“Holy fuck me,” you couldn’t help but stare wide eyed, knowing what was coming next as he stood next to the bowl filled with black paint.

As the music played he locked eyes with you one more time, the smallest of smirks played on his lips for just a second before his intense look of concentration replaced it.

He slid his hands into the bowl and you noticed he’d filled it a little bit more tonight, the paint practically spilling out as he completely covered his hands in it, starting to rub it up his forearms just slightly, before raising his hands and letting the paint slowly drip down them, accentuating them.

You felt yourself biting into your lip hard as you watched, and then as he grabbed the mic off the stand with one hand, he pressed his other hand to his naked chest, smearing the black paint over it.

You felt your knees go weak.

As the song finished, he started to make his way toward you at the side of the stage, and as the lights blacked out he reached you. Taking your face in his paint covered hands he pulled you in for a hard kiss. His lips sliding over yours feverishly as he pulled you closer to him, not caring that he was covering you in the paint.

He brought his lips up to your ear before he said, “Meet me in my dressing room after the show.” and then he pulled back with a smirk and a wink, leaving you standing there, stunned as he got back onstage like he hadn’t just given you the best kiss of your life.

You realized as the lights went up and Tyler started singing again that the people around you were definitely staring, and the fans who could see what just happened and the paint handprints he left on your neck, oh boy. This was going to be all over Twitter in a few minutes.

—

For the rest of the show, you tried to concentrate on the music, you really did, but the memory of his lips against your ear, his hands on your neck…

When Trees finally closed out the show and Tyler disappeared into the back, your legs couldn’t move fast enough.

Making it to the dressing room you let yourself in, finding Tyler lounging on the soft couch adjacent from the door, his shirt still in that half unbuttoned state that was driving you wild and his hands propped behind his head as he relaxed.

He beckoned you with one finger, “Come here.” He said simply, tapping his lap. His voice huskier than normal.

You felt your skin heat up at his words as you followed his order. Swinging your legs over his lap so you were perfectly face to face straddling him. His hands immediately found your waist and held you there, your hands pressing to his chest as you felt the dry paint on his skin, mesmerized by how gorgeous he looked, even when he was sticky with sweat from performing.

“You looked so pretty out there, with this all over you…” He ran one hand over the smudged handprint on the side of your neck, making a shiver run up your spine and you arch slightly into him on his lap, bringing you closer to his growing bulge beneath you. “Letting everyone know who you belong you…”

“Tyler please…”

“Please what? Tell me what you want, Baby” He looked up at you innocently, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. He knew the affect he had on you, especially in this state. He could practically feel your wetness in his lap through your leggings. His hands traced up your thighs for a moment, before you watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips.

“I want you…” He pressed his lips to your neck as you started to speak, sending electric shocks through you. “To…” You tried again, as his hands rested on your hips, guiding you gently to grind on his lap. Feeling his bulge underneath you grow as he trailed kisses along your skin.

“Please Ty… I can’t-”

“Say it.” His fingers dug into your hips again, grinding you on him more roughly this time.

“I need to you fuck me, right now.” You finally choked out, and he finally met your eyes again with a bold smile.

“That’s more like it.” He purred, pulling you into a searing kiss.

Finally his hands worked on you, sliding under your shirt, leaving your skin on fire where he touched you as he unclipped your bra from behind and slid off your top in one easy pull, his lips then latching onto your neck as he repositioned you so your back was on the couch and he was hovering over you. His lips worked their way down the sensitive skin before moving over your collar bone, one hand cupping your breast and his mouth latched onto your sensitive nipple, sending another shockwave of pleasure throughout your body as he sucked. You could live in this moment forever and die happy.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as he continued to nip and suck at your skin, surely leaving behind marks for later.

Arching into him “Ty,” you sighed his name, he groaned as you said it, his hands hooking into the waistband of your leggings and panties and pulling them off swiftly beneath you.

You heard the sound of him undoing his belt, and then he slid down with his hands on your hips, opening your legs to reveal your soaking wet center.

“You are so beautiful” he grinned up at you, his hands running over the soft skin of your thighs, making good bumps rise. Pressing a series of soft kisses on your inner thighs, making you squirm as he held you in place as he made his way down to where you wanted him.

You felt his mouth on you in the next second, and you struggled to stop yourself from moaning too loud as he swirled his tongue around your clit, “you’re already so wet for me baby, such a good girl for me.” He pressed a finger inside your dripping entrance as he spoke, making another moan escape your lips.

He added another finger and worked them in and out of you while still sucking and swirling his tongue on your most sensitive spot.

“Anything for you.”

You watched half-lidded as he pulled off his boxers, revealing his gorgeous cock, dripping with precum. He knelt between your thighs and propped up your legs so you could hook them around his waist.

Taking his cock in his hand, you watched as he stroked it twice, his eyes devouring the sight of your body laid out below him. He ran his sensitive tip against your clit making you moan before lining himself up with your entrance.

“Ready for me Baby?”

“Yes! Tyler, Please!” You begged, then he finally pressed himself inside you, filling you up completely.

Staying still for a moment savoring the feeling of being fully seated inside you. You wrapped your legs tighter around him as he slowly pulled out of you almost completely before thrusting back in harder, letting you adjust to his size.

“You feel so perfect baby, Like you were made just for me,” Tyler sighed against your lips as he found his rhythm.

“I was” you smiled onto his lips, feeling your heart flutter in your chest at his words.

Using one hand he pressed against your clit, you could feel your orgasm starting to build and you dug your fingers into Tyler’s back, holding onto him as he fucked you. Before you could finish, he lifted you back up so that you could straddle his lap, this time with his cock buried inside of you.

“Im not done with you yet.” his hot breath whispered against your ear as he fucked into you, rising your hips to meet each thrust, feeling him hit that spot perfectly inside you.

“Cum for me, (Y/N).” He kissed your lips as he spoke.

You felt the coil inside of you tighten until you couldn’t hold it any longer, your body spasming as your orgasm ripped through you with a loud cry. Not caring that anyone could walk back and hear you coming undone.

Tyler gripped your thighs and continued pounding into you, and with one final thrust he came with you, his cock pulsing inside as he filled you up with his seed. A tangle of limbs and lips as you rode out your orgasms together.

With your arms wrapped around him you buried your face in his neck and inhaled his musky scent that you loved so much. Feeling the beat of his heart in tune with yours as you slumped against him, chests pressed together as he softened inside of you. Eventually you fell back onto the couch with a satisfied sigh feeling like the luckiest person alive. Tyler leaned over and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead as he stood up.

“Are you going to wear that on stage every night?” You asked breathlessly. He smiled as you watched him button his pants back up, before grabbing a towel to help clean you up.

“If it gets you that turned on every time, absolutely yes.”

______

AHHH SO HOW ARE WE FEELING GUYS (I haven’t written smut since 2019) please be nice ilyyyyyy

[mythosidhesdollhouse]

Shibajuku Anime: Akira (Pt. 2 - The Review)

The nitty-gritty breakdown promised in Pt. 1. This post was an absolute drag to work on, but I'm glad to report I did at least find a few nice things to say. Precious few.

This is such a hilarious joke where do I even begin--

Alright friends and enemies, let's get this over with--

Cursory overview of the packaging: Forgot to take a closeup of the front before I removed her from the box, but it doesn't matter much since she's pretty accurate to the stock photos aside from her hair being several shades lighter than I was expecting (my first grievance).

Vague but threatening, bordering on nonsensical. Sounds like it was written by Chat GPT.

The array of blinding whiteness we discussed at length previously. (and no I will not collect you all, indeed I will be deeply shocked if the other three dolls in this line ever see the light of day)

Okay enough of that, let's get into the actual DOLL. For better or worse I am somewhat surprised to report this appears to be an entirely new sculpt. Not just the head, the body as well. The new one was clearly modeled after the original, but there are enough minor differences to convince me they made completely new molds for most if not all of the parts.

The face has the most obvious differences. The first thing I noticed when handling her is that the material Akira's head is made from is softer than Yoko's. Her cheeks are more rounded and less angular, her nose and mouth are smaller, and her eyes are smaller and more forward facing. The eye chips and lashes appear to be the same material that was used on the previous dolls, but the design of the iris and pupil have changed drastically, and combine with the overall revision of the makeup to give the new dolls what I suppose they thought was a more 'anime' look. Personally I prefer the wider, colored brows and glitter eyeshadow seen on Yoko, but I think Akira's stronger cheek blushing is an improvement on the old look.

The differences in the face sculpts are even more apparent in profile. Overall I think I actually prefer the new face. It's like a revised and updated version of the first draft we got on the original dolls.

Might as well drop a word about the hair while we're discussing the head. They appear to both have the same fiber--either very low end nylon or poly, I admit I'm not well versed enough to tell the difference--but Akira's rooting is much sparser than Yoko's.

At first glance not much to note about the new body appearance-wise, but upon closer examination we find the elbow and knee joints are cut differently, and the material(s) they are made from are not the same. While Yoko's entire body appears to be made from the same shiny hard vinyl throughout, Akira's torso and legs are made from a matte vinyl, while her hands and arms are rubbery and slightly pliable.

Akira's hands are smaller than Yoko's, and her arms are slightly slimmer.

Same hilariously tiny feet. If you check the backs of their knees you can see how the joints aren't quite the same.

Ok the sigh has returned. We're getting to the point that really bummed me out. You may have noticed the staining on Akira's arms in some of the earlier photos. Let's take a closer look.

The marks go all the way around on both arms. I suspect the blame for this lies in equal parts on the rubbery plastic her arms are made from, and the absolute shit material of her dress. OMG THIS EFFING DRESS. Sure it looks fine--Nice basic lolita silhouette, cute graphic elements, plenty of lace and ribbon trim--but the material it's made from is just nasty (and no not in a good way like Ms. Jackson). It's....crispy? Crunchy? Honestly the only way I can think to describe it is cheap, plasticky paper. It doesn't feel like fabric at all, and it's easily the worst tactile experience I can remember having with a doll garment. If you are sensitive to abrasive textures trust me you do not want to touch this thing. It made me physically cringe. And on top of all that unpleasantness, it's not even colorfast!

Her other pieces are fine. Shoes are fine, socks are fine, headband is actually better quality than anything else here and is the only thing that redeems the ensemble for me. With all her kit on Akira is decently cute enough to hang out with the other dolls I have on display at the moment, as long as I don't have to touch her.

Yoko's outfit is relatively simple by comparison, but it's made from NORMAL, soft, non-crunchy fabric, has some nice lace and metallic details on the skirt, and features the iconic Shibajuku cat socks, which are this brand's greatest (only) contribution to the wider doll community. Best of all, NO STAINS. Yoko has been wearing these pieces for eight, nine years? I've never bothered to redress her. Not a single mark on her. Call me crazy, but I'll happily take simplicity over a more elaborate design made with poor quality material that actively harms the doll.

That's it! I've run out of things to say. I got Akira with a $5 discount code Walmart sent me for posting a review of another doll, and I still feel like I overpaid. I don't hate her--you all know I love weird looking dolls, and for all their flaws I find these girls rather sweet (if derpy)--but I am just plain old mad at all the corners Hunter Toys obviously cut to make these dolls as cheaply as possible. It's an insult to their customers and their dolls.

[itzsyds]

hey would you maybe do one where reader and riccardo calafiori have a son who idolises his dad and wants to be exactly like him and play for Arsenal just like his dad so after the game riccardo takes his son and reader on the pitch to teach his son how to shoot in goal and his son is taking shots against him While read a stand there and watches and has never felt so much love seeing the love of her life play football with their little boy

also maybe a cute little fluff bit at the end between reader and riccardo

thank you xx

Riccardo Calafiori x Reader

The Next Calafiori⚽️

—

Yay a Richy request! I was super happy to write this one for you anon. He is also gonna be back for the first leg against PSG🤩 Always happy to write for any of the other Arsenal lads too. Also I am happy to consider writing for anyone else (footballer) if I have the motivation & can see the vision with my writing style🤩

—

—

Fluff- After a big win at the Emirates, Richy shares a quiet, magical moment on the pitch with his wife and their young son, who dreams of following in his dad’s footsteps and playing for the Arsenal❤️🤍⚡️

—

The stadium was buzzing with chants and cheers, red and white flags waving in every direction, but your eyes were fixed only on one man and one man only.

Riccardo Calafiori. Your husband, Arsenal’s number 33, who was currently out on the pitch in his element. Confident. Composed. Fierce. And still managing to glance your way during every corner kick like you were his lucky charm.

Beside you in the box seats, your five-year-old son was practically bouncing out of his seat.

“There’s Papa! He’s right there, Mama! Look!” he shouted for the hundredth time, tugging at your sleeve with wide, sparkling eyes. “He’s gonna score, I know it!”

You smiled, brushing a hand through his soft curls. “Of course he will, baby. He’s Papa. He always does.”

And just like that, as if he heard the cue himself, Riccardo found the ball on the edge of the box, dribbled it past a defender with his signature grace, and curled it straight into the top corner.

The crowd erupted. You barely had a second to react before your son was screaming with joy, jumping up and down. “HE DID IT! HE REALLY DID IT!”

Riccardo turned, arms wide, beaming toward the stands. But instead of the usual fist-pumping celebration, he pointed straight at your little boy and blew him a kiss.

You could’ve cried right then.

—

After the final whistle and the post-match interviews, the stadium had begun to empty out, but Riccardo was already jogging toward the tunnel, pulling off his shirt and grinning like he hadn’t just played ninety minutes of top-flight football.

“Alright,” he said, scooping up your son with ease. “Who’s ready for some after-hours training?”

“Me! Me!” your son squealed, already trying to wriggle out of his dad’s arms so he could run out onto the pitch.

You followed them down through the tunnel and onto the sacred ground, the stadium quiet now, save for a few crew members packing up equipment.

The stadium lights stayed on, casting a soft glow over the grass, and it suddenly felt like the world had narrowed down to just the three of you.

Riccardo set the ball down in front of the goal and knelt beside your son. “Okay, so remember—plant your left foot, keep your eye on the ball, and shoot with your laces.”

“Like this?” your son asked, mimicking the move with exaggerated seriousness.

“Exactly like that,” Riccardo said, ruffling his hair. “Alright, give it a go. Try to score on Papa.”

You stood back a little, arms crossed, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched the two people who meant the most to you in the whole world.

Your son charged the ball and kicked it as hard as his little legs would allow. It bobbled and rolled, nowhere near fast or straight, but Riccardo dived like it was the final of the Champions League and let it sneak past him.

“GOOOOOAL!” he cried, falling dramatically onto the grass.

Your son laughed so hard he nearly fell over too, running in a little circle with his arms stretched out like he’d just won the World Cup. “I did it! I scored!”

“You’re a natural!” Riccardo said, catching him and swinging him up in the air before settling him back on the ground. “Alright, again!”

They did this over and over— your son shooting, with Riccardo dramatically trying and “failing” to save each one. And you just stood there, heart so full it hurt a little.

At one point, your little boy turned and yelled, “Mama! Did you see that one? That was my best one!”

“I saw, baby! That was amazing!” you called back, clapping for him.

—

After about twenty minutes and a lot of giggles, your son finally plopped down on the grass, exhausted but glowing.

Riccardo jogged over to you, a little out of breath but smiling that smile that still made your stomach flip.

“He’s gonna be better than me someday,” he said, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Better-looking too,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Riccardo groaned playfully. “Wow. Betrayed by my own wife.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around him. “You know,” you murmured, “seeing you with him like that… I think I fell in love with you all over again.”

He turned to you, eyes soft and honest. “I think I do that every day. Especially when I see you with him. This life… it’s better than anything I ever imagined.”

You stood there like that for a while, just holding each other while your son chased a stray ball around the grass in the distance. It wasn’t a fancy vacation or a glamorous date night. But it was everything.

Love in its simplest, most perfect form.

Eventually, Riccardo turned and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips, slowly and sweetly. “Let’s go home,” he whispered.

You nodded, fingers intertwined with his. “Yeah. Let’s take our future Arsenal star home.”

—

Thanks so much for the request anon! Saw it this morning & just had to write it. I hope what I have written did the request justice🫵❤️‍🩹

If anyone else wants anything written. Please do not hesitate to ask as it’s the Easter weekend🐣 & lately I’ve been on a roll with my writing😭🩷

This reminded me of Declan & baby Jude end of last szn where he was teaching him to score. I was at that game & it was super cute to see🥹 x