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whore-ibly-hot · 8 months

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"A Servant and His King."

Yandere!Fae-King x Fae!servant x. Fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, coercion, fae related hijinks, basically monster fucking, oral (fem receiving), loss of virginity, clit play, p-in-v sex, power dynamics.

(A/N): Part two to a non-smutnfic about Puck, based off of puck from 'Midsummer Nights Dream'. Can be read with or standalone.

Part one (not required to understand)

A brief gust of wind and leaves rattles the shutters of your small cottages window, not sounding out of place when mixed with the usual sounds of the forest. However, the gust turns softer as it gently brushes against the shutters, causing them to open slowly with a creak.

A pair of feet land nimbly upon the wooden dresser across the room from your bed, a shadowy figure squatting down with a grin. The figure hops down, making its way to your bed, where you sleeping form lies blissfully unaware of the intruder.

Groaning, you are soon roused from your slumber by a light pressure on your wrist, and your eyes flutter open. You gasp, seeing the being before you and trying to pull away. "

"W-who are you! Stay awa-" a finger is pressed softly to your lips, the figures face coming into view as the lean forward. Forest green eyes and a set of familiar pearly whites greet you.

"Shh! No need to fear, only Puck is here." He coos, kissing your wrist once more, pressing the soft flesh to his lips. "Sorry to frighten you, little mortal. I would never mean to upset you, but I couldn't very waltz in through the entrance to your humble abode, especially given your mother's feelings about my kind." He lays his lithe body across yours, head on your chest as he looks at you with glee.

"Why are you here, Puck? It's late, I must rest." You say, though you don't resist the fae boys touching. "Sleep is important for humans."

He scoffs. "I know, but I have something more important than your human need for sleep. My king, Oberon, leader of the seelie court wishes to meet you." He pulls you up by your shoulders, a hand fixing your nightgown which begins to slip from your shoulder.

"T-the king?" You're just a human woman, a peasant. You've never even met a human noble, much less a faery king. "Why? Puck, I'm not, I can't! Now? I'm not dressed properly, I'm a human, I-"

Once again, a finger is placed against your lips. Invading your space as per usual, Pucks forehead is pressed against your forehead, nose to nose. "Shush, little mortal. Please, the king loves me. I am his jester-servant, his beloved Puck! We've shared many a-" he chuckles. "Amourous night together. He knows if your good enough for me, then your good enough to meet him. Don't discredit yourself, you are so much more than some mortal maid I take in the woods for a night of passion." He makes her sit up, and tries to slip her out of the bed. "He'll love you, my sweet. It's only proper I introduce my new beloved friend to my closest companion, ruler, and my king." You allow him to pull you out of your bed, and into his lanky form.

"Mmph, Puck. I can walk." You groan, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He tsks with his tongue, and shakes his head.

"No, no, no. Don't whine, don't go away. Be good. It's a long stroll all the way to the spring we're going to, just relax." He cackles. "You humans are so indecisive. Just a moment ago you were whining, 'Puck, no. It's too late, I'm a human, I need my sleep.', now you won't let me carry your frail, tired self to see the king. Make up your mind."

You roll your eyes, but suppose he has a point, and allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, shoulders flush against his pecs.

As he slips back through the window and dances through the glen, weaving through trees and brush like a gust of cool night air, he soon arrives upon a clearing. Smooth rock reflect moonlight, as the water resting atop them comes from the babbling freshwater spring that rests at the edge of the rocks. A figure, imposing and much more muscular than Puck's is sat on one of the rocks, admiring the water.

Puck gently sets you down with nimble hands, kissing your ear lightly. This causes you to squeak and push him off.

"Stop it, Puck! I-im about to meet a king and your acting like we're lovers! Like your an enamored schoolboy!" You exclaim, and his hands only wrap around your waist from behind, playing with the cloth there.

"And here I thought we were lovers..." He feigns a sad face and a pout, before jolting forward and taking you with him by the waist. "My king!" He yells.

The imposing figure looks over, causing you to freeze, mind not really in synch with body as Puck drags you forward. The king is truly a thing of beauty, rugged and piercing as if he were carved, not from stone, but from the wood that made up the forest which he called his domain. He wears a fur pelt around his waist, covering his only upper thigh and not leaving much to the imagination. His is decidedly hairy, and though beautiful is as rugged as a human man of the woods is expected to be. He has dark curls of hair not unsimilar to Puck's, but not as long. His eyes are a deep brown.

"Ah, Puck, my fair servant friend. I was almost afraid you had planned to trick me, having not shown yet." The king muses, legs spread casually and a hand resting against his chin.

Puck gasps, hand to his chest as if hurt. "Never, my liege. Well, at least not to you." Puck coos, sitting on the rock and curling up to the man's calve. The king runs his hands through the curls of the fae man, and you are taken aback by the sensuality of their interaction.

The king looks up. "And you, little mortal, must be my Pucks new favorite thing, hmm?" He asks, head tilted. You nod nervously as the man waves you closer. You bow, and he grins. "Good, good. I assume she knows who I am then? I am King Oberon, of this enchanted woods and over all of the seelie court. Though, my servant here told me you knew little to nothing of our people when asked you about us, so I doubt you'd know what the seelie court is."

You shake your head. "No, sir. All I know-" you glance at Puck, who is practically purring at his kings touch. "All I know is what Puck has told me. That you are powerful, and to be respected."

Oberon grins at this. "That is all you need know. Come here, allow a king to gaze upon you." His hands begin to wander, cupping your face. His large fingers prod your plump lips, your cheeks, and tilts your chin downwards to look at him from where he is sat. Then, the hand is on your shoulder, playing with the straps of your upper garment, then at your chest. This sudden touch in such an intimate place causes you to jolt back. Oberon raises a brow.

"I'm sorry, sir. That is, that is just a very intimate place for humans. It's for sensual matters, when between two adults." You try to explain. Puck sighs, leaning his head on Oberons knee while the king chuckles.

"I am aware. It is intimate and sensual for fae too. That is why you were being touched there." He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Now, you are only more confused.

"Well, intimacy of those matters between humans happens between a-a married couple, and even then, it should not be openly discussed. A woman like myself couldn't, shouldn't ever bee with a stranger like that, not even a suitor before marriage!"

"I have heard humans are... less indulgent in the passions of life than fae. All those awful, boring rules. And yet you kill your leaders and revolt because your miserable? Perhaps. Eing unable to express those urges is why." He laughs, and Puck joins in. He sense your confusion and continues. "Fae do not believing in brief enjoyment and indulgence. We live life to the fullest. Our liquor is stronger yet we drink more, our food is richer, yet we all eat like kings. And most of all, we indulge in the passions of the flesh with each other more than your little mind could take. I think if you had the opportunity, you'd see it was the best way to live." He muses.

To your suprise, he suddenly moves Puck up from his calve to his lap, holding the thin man by the waist as Puck grins wickedly. "You see, me and my servant here are close, emotionally and physically. We have enjoyed many a night of passion, without the watchful eye of my queen, of course." There is some bitterness in Oberon's tone at the mention of his queen.

"You... you indulge in passion with those, of the same gender as you, o-often?" You ask. It is not wrong, you are just so suprised and curious. You are not even supposed to think about a man pleasing a woman, let alone a man and another man. It is such a foreign idea.

"Mhmm. Being a king is hard for his majesty, and Puck... I, am happy to help him with his desires. My king cares for me, and I care for him." Puck says, before gasping and cutting off. You blush, seeing Oberons hand has slipped below Pucks leafy loincloth, hand stroking Puck manhood. He focuses only on the tip for now.

"I am suprised seeing as you are so shocked by how touchy and sensual fae are, seeing as you bedded my dear servant." Oberon says, and you immediately shake your head.

"No! I've never, me and Puck did nothing together. We drank a little, but he took me home." You exclaim, and look st Ouck for answers. He's too busy letting out soft whimpers and moans as Oberon moves his hand the full length of Pucks cock, paying attention to his bulbous tip.

"Is this true, Puck? I find it hard to believe, my servant can't keep his hands to himself. I suppose this makes you seem even more special to me, that my Puck would wish to see you again so desperately, and rave about you to me even if he had not bedded you yet. That begs the question though..." He leans in to Puck's ear. "Why did you lie to your king?"

Puck groans, brows furrowing. "M' sorry, your majesty! I knew you were so busy, and if I told you I had found a mortal capable of giving such incredible pleasure, you'd be more likely to come and see what a treasure I had found." He stammers. The king shakes his head, slowing his movements on Puck's cock.

"You know better than to lie to a king with a temper, Puck."

Puck cries out, bucking his hips and trying to chase that friction against his kings rough hands. "N-no sir! Trust me, I know if she'd just indulge, the mortal would be wonderful! She... she could be our mortal, not just mine! Please sir, I'll be good, she'll be good, don't stop." He begs.

Oberon sighs, still frowning in Pucks direction but intrigued nonetheless. "Alright, mortal girl. I yell you, if you would only let go, indulge just a bit in the pleasures of the fae, you would live a better life overall. And, should you please a king of the woods, perhaps your... what is it your mother does? Herbs? Perhaps they would see a better yield. An enchantment perhaps?" He offers.

You gulp, body hot with both arousal at the sight before you and anxiety. "I couldn't. What would the people in town think, I-I would be outcast!"

"Who would know? Even if someone were to find out, no one would believe a quiet gardeners daughter slept with a wicked spirit." The king teases, tongue poking out from between his lips slightly. He pulls you to him, and you offer no resistance. "For an untouched maiden, I assure you there is no one better to introduce you to a world of pleasure than the king, and his most loyal servant."

As he says this, the moaning Puck latches his lips onto your neck, continuing to moan as he sucks the soft flesh. You gasp.

"Oh, oh, gods." You squeak, the sensitive skin of your nape never having been touched, much less kissed in such a way.

"No gods, here, mortal. No angels or demons, only fae. Only the spirits of nature." He leans into your ear, kissing the shell. "Only your king."

Soon, a rough hand gets your skirt pooled around your knees, kneading the fat of your thigh and preparing to spread your legs and allow the fae king and his srmervant a view of the untouched treasure that lies there. You shiver as the cold air brushes across your stomach, you've never felt so exposed.

"See, highness? I told you, she's the perfect, pretty little mortal. Tease her, please? For me? I want to see her face as she experiences pleasure for the first time." Puck begs.

Oberon raises a brow and the request. "Such demands from a liar who has already been granted mercy, and is still being pleasure bu the hands of a king." He pulls his hand from Ouck's cock, causing tears to well in the edged faes eyes, having been denied his release.

"Majesty-"

"Enough. I will allow you to tease and prep the maiden, so she may except you king. Before you say anything, be grateful I don't only allow you to watch, or send you home." Puck whines, but grins a little inside. He knows the king enjoys his presence to much to remove him from this sensual scene.

Oberons large hands keep your shoulders flat against the warm stones of the spring, while Puck, still hard beneath his tented loincloth, crawls unceremoniously up between your thighs.

"What are you doing, Puck?" You whisper out softly, looking into his dazzling green eyes. He smiles warmly, pressing his cheek to one of your thighs.

"I assure you, maiden, my wicked tongue is not only good for japes and jabs." He coos. You are still confused at what he could mean, until the two thin fingers parting your folds are replaced with a hot, wet muscle. Puck licks a stripe teasingly up your center, savoring the flavour but eyes never leaving your face.

Oberon smiles down as he watches your face contort and wrinkle at the new sensation.

"Puck, y-your majesty, what is- oh, what is he doing?" You ask, trying to form a coherent sentence at the odd feeling of pressure and friction against both your clit and your entrance as Puck explores your folds.

"It's called cunnilingus, maiden. Fae have many ways to pleasure each other, but many enjoys the feel of one's mouth on their most intimate areas." He chuckles as he watches Puck tasting you curiously. "Sometimes, I find filling his mouth is the only way to quiet him." Puck giggles, and the vibrations make your legs quake.

Soon, the muscle invades your entrance, as Puck is now groaning almost as much as you. It's a gentle stretch, but both Ouck and Oberon know it will be necessary for what the king is to do later. Your aroused and needy clit is not forgotten by the fae pleasuring you, as a free hand comes to tweak it gently. The feeling is overwhelming, and soon, that knot inside you snaps, and you feel a high you've never known. It feels as though currents, waves run through your body as your maidenhood spasms around Pucks tongue.

He removes it, but continues to lap at your spent clit, tasting the juices of your climax. Oberon smiles.

"Was he good, maiden? Did you first touch by a man satisfy?" He asks. You can only weakly nod. "Ah, answer, maiden. Your being addressed by a royal."

"It was... it was very good, m-majesty." You gasp out. You look away at the sheer lewdness of the sight and Oberon crashes his lips to Pucks so that he may taste you on his servants lips.

"She was a divine nectar, my liege." Puck groans, pulling away from the kiss and now trading spots with his king. Now Puck lays by your shoulders, playing with your locks and kissing your neck and jawline while Oberon moves into place.

His chisled body places itself atop you, his sheer size dwarfing you and removing the moonlight from your body, casting a large shadow. You gulp.

"I... I've never done-" he chuckles, cutting you off.

"I'm aware, mortal. All that talk of purity led me to that conclusion. But, you won't be that innocent for long. I will be gentle, but it will hurt at first when you accept me into your sweet cunt. It's all part of the process."

You tense a little at the feeling of something hard, much more rigid than Pucks limp tongue, prodding at your entrance and folds.

"M' scared." You admit. This seems to soften the sensual yet cold king, and he sighs. Even Puck gives him a sad, wide eyes look. He leans down.

"Don't worry, mortal. I will be as gentle as any man has been with a woman. My Puck was never one to be nervous, but I have had lovers in the past who were. I will take care of you." He says.

Puck holds your hand and nuzzles his cheek to yours to provide a semblance of comfort. "It's true. The king is a fair and gentle lover when he wants to be. Don't worry, my friend." He assures.

Oberon strokes your thighs to relax soon, and soon the tip enters your weeping slit. You whine, the intrusion burns a little, especially as he adds a few inches every so often. But, he is slow, and talks you through it.

"Shh, it's alright. Your taking me so well, especially since I am endowed with more than some. Such a good mortal girl, it will feel good once you've stretched to accommodate a fae's cock." He coos.

As he begins to gently thrust, the slightly pain gives way to a burning pleasure. You whimper, his thrusts rocking your ads back against the stone of the spring. His large, curved tip is hitting the right spots, cervix getting pounded by the large man of the forest.

"O-oh, shit! Oberon, please- please, m-more! I need all, all of you in me!" You cry, and he chuckles.

"That's your womb speaking. This is your first time, you couldn't possibly accommodate all of me. But I will give you what I think, ugh, what I think you can take." He thursts become rhythmic, rolling in and out of your stretched tunnel, as Puck holds you steady and plays gently with your chest.

Oberon humps against you a few more times, moaning at Pucks encouragement. "She is so close, sire. I can tell, she's all tense and red, come on! Give it to her, let her take you. Please." It's clear Puck is still needy from not having gotten his release earlier. Still, he seems satisfied watching the king fuck his newest treasure.

"Mortal, mortal. You squeeze like a vice, such a warm, needy cunt. You needed this, to feel such pleasure, didn't you? Needed a cock to fill this cunt?" He moans. "It was fate, wasn't it, Puck? Finding this maiden, all alone. It was fate for you to be brought to us." Puck nods as his master continues.

"Your majesty, I'm gonna- its happening again." You cry, and his pace doesn't slow.

"I know, I know. I'm, fuck-" one last thrust sends the king over the edge. He groans, feeling your tunnel convulse around him as his thick white cum fills you. Puck plants quick, overwhelming kisses across your face as you climax, secretly wondering what you would look like if you bore the king's child.

Soon, Oberon pulls out, and you lay there, trembling and on the verge of sleep. Puck leans down and plants a final kiss upon your lips. He smiles.

"Sleep, little mortal. It's okay, you are safe with me and my king. I'll return you to your bed, pretty one." He strokes your hair softly, until your tired eyes close and stay closes. He sighs, and looks at the king. It's clear he could go for a fee more rounds.

"Majesty, our poor mortal needed this so badly, her body was on fire for it. We can't... we can't well let her go back to her little cottage, all alone in the dangerous wood with no one to please her. She's trusting, and she broke all the rules of interacting with fae so quickly, what if a worse one came along and-"

"Puck!" Oberon exclaims, making the imp jolt and go silent. Oberon sighs. "I am not a fool. I know how much this unique mortal has captivated the two of us. You need not convince me to take her back to my palace. As fair as Titania will be concerned, she is a plaything for you, correct? I will not have her cursing this treasure." Oberons muscular arms cradle your slumbering form.

"Majesty, I know of your endurance. Perhaps when we get back to the palace, while our maiden rests, I may please you." Puck asks, eyes wide and innocent.

Oberon scoffs. "All this acting because I didn't allow you to finish, Puck?" Oberon says, seeing through Pucks facade of goodwill and selflessness. Puck pouts.

"Isn't it tempting, though?"

"Perhaps."

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere content #tw.dark content #x reader #yandere boy #yandere fae #yandere king #oc Puck #oc Oberon #tw.dubcon #yandere smut #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader

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alygator77 · 13 days

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♬♪ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : beat of my heart ♬♪

♬ pairing. college au // drummer! gojo x psychology major! reader (f)

♬ summary. being a psychology major with a passion for music, you're no stranger to chaos—between juggling school, caring for your mother, and working at a local music shop, you've learned to keep your cool. but when a cocky drummer pushes your patience to the limit, a chance encounter with satoru gojo—an enigmatic, sharp-tongued musician—turns your world upside down. as you're drawn to his dangerous charm, an unexpected connection deepens, but so do the secrets you've both been running from. will you get caught up in his rhythm before you realize it’s too late?

♬ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, slow burn, smut, angst with comfort, some fluff, readers mom has dementia, mentions of suicide, alcohol/weed usage, unresolved trauma, commitment issues

♬ words: 7.3k

♬ a/n. hi lovelies, welcome to the debut of this fic :) very excited to explore this dynamic between satoru and y/n, thanks for reading ♡

♬ taglist: open

series masterlist ♬ next chapter → pending...

ch 1 // the first measure

“Emotional regulation is defined as the process by which individuals influence the emotions they experience, when they experience them, and how they express them in response to different stimuli.”

Staring at the neatly printed words in your psychology textbook, your mind automatically begins to dissect the concept.

Emotional regulation. The holy grail of human behavior, wrapped neatly in clinical terms. It’s the ability to keep yourself in check, to craft a perfect mask that hides what’s boiling beneath the surface. The world only gets to see what you allow. If it were as easy as the textbook made it sound, half your classes wouldn’t exist.

Letting out a breath, you sink deeper into your chair.

People aren’t simple equations you can balance, after all—people are… complicated.

Emotions, even more so.

They ebb and flow like unpredictable tides, swelling when you least expect them, crashing down when you think you’ve regained control. They are messy, stubborn, and relentless—especially when the brain stops following its own rules.

Your mothers face comes to mind—uninvited. Her once-bright eyes are now dull with confusion, emotions flickering in and out like static on a broken TV. Dementia has stolen the filter that once kept her reactions in line with reality. It’s as if her mind is betraying her, one piece at a time.

You press your fingers against the pages of the textbook. Will any amount of psychology truly prepare you to untangle the complexities of the human mind? Can it allow you to help her—or at least understand her—before she’s lost entirely?

Before you can sink further into that thought, an ear-splitting crash reverberates through the store, jolting you back into the present. Glancing up with a sigh, the peaceful hum of the music store is shattered by the clumsy cacophony of someone abusing a drum kit like it owes him money.

Clearly, emotional regulation isn’t on that guy’s radar.

Yet, somehow, you’ve grown used to it. Working part-time here has taught you how to tune out chaos, as if the dissonance of the store has become its own kind of background music.

It’s chaotic, but it’s your kind of chaos.

The strings of guitars being tested, the pounding of drum kits, the chattering of customers—it all blends into a rhythm you no longer notice.

You’ve been working part-time in this quaint little music shop for so long that silence has become unsettling. If it’s too quiet, your mind starts wandering, spiraling into places you don’t always want to go. And so, the chaos is your anchor—it helps you focus, keeps you present.

Studying in silence feels foreign.

“Ugh… I have such a headache,” Utahime’s voice breaks through your thoughts, her hand pressing to her temple. Standing a few feet away, she shoots a glare towards the drum section. “He’s been at it for practically an hour now. Like… come on. Is he trying to destroy that kit or learn how to play it?”

Glancing up from your textbook, you eyes land on a brawny guy with jet-black hair, slamming away on the drums with no sense of rhythm, no control—just brute force.

“Has it really been that long?” you ask, blinking at the scene. The noise had faded into the background for you, becoming just another layer of the store’s soundtrack.

Utahime gives you a look that screams disbelief.

“You didn’t notice?”

You shrug.

“Guess I’ve learned to tune it out.”

“Tch… wish I could do that,” she rolls her eyes, rubbing her temples like the sound is physically burrowing into her skull. “That guy is killing me.”

Oh, shit. Now that your attention is focused, you notice just how bad it really is. It’s not just noise—it’s borderline offensive to music. He’s not even playing the drums—he’s assaulting them—completely unaware of the sonic devastation he’s unleashing on the store.

Utahime lets out another long, exasperated groan, her entire body sagging as she leans forward in defeat.

“I swear, if he keeps going, I’m going to snap,” her elbows rest on the counter, and she presses her forehead into her hands. “y/nnnn,” she whines, lifting her head just enough to glimpse at you. “Can you please do something?”

Glancing around the store, you catch the irritated looks of other customers—one guy near the synthesizers is glaring openly at the drummer, his hand gripping a set of headphones so tightly you half expect him to snap them in half.

It’s like the whole store is holding its breath, waiting for someone—anyone—to make it stop.

A sigh escapes your lips as you close your textbook. It’s one thing to tune out the chaos when you’re focused on studying, but now that you’re paying attention, the noise feels like an assault on your senses too. You can’t blame Utahime for losing her patience—though she’s never been one to take matters into her own hands.

“Fine, I’ll handle it,” you mutter, pushing yourself up from your seat.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, finally peeling her hands away from her temples. “Please, work your magic. Before we all go deaf.”

You roll your eyes internally, though you can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Magic. Sure—that’s one way to put it.

What Utahime calls ‘magic’ is really just years of learning how to manage other people’s shit without losing your cool.

It’s not magic—it’s survival. A skill you’ve honed out of necessity, not desire. And sure, maybe your love for psychology helps—you’ve got the theories to back up the practice—but most days it feels more like wrangling toddlers who never learned how to grow up.

Taking a steady breath, you step into the fray, weaving through the store’s labyrinth of instruments and displays. As you get closer, the vibrations from the drums rattle through your bones, crawling up your spine. The sound is unbearable, like nails on a chalkboard amplified through a megaphone.

The guy doesn’t even look up, his head bent low over the drum kit, raven hair falling in messy strands across his forehead. His arms move with the rhythm of someone who has no idea what rhythm actually is, and the muscles in his forearms ripple with each heavy-handed strike as he slams the sticks down like he’s personally offended by the drums.

You stand off to the side for a moment, watching him have at it. You’ve dealt with a lot of difficult people working here, but this guy? He’s so oblivious to the fact that the rest of the store is on the verge of mutiny.

Clearing your throat, you raise your voice, hoping to break through his focus.

“Excuse me!”

Nothing.

Another crash of the cymbals, loud enough to rattle your skull. Your jaw tightens as you try again, this time louder.

“Excuuuuse me!”

Still nothing. He’s completely in his own world, bashing away with reckless abandon. It’s like he’s in a vacuum, utterly disconnected from the chaos he’s creating around him.

Jesus this guy… your patience thins and you step closer—close enough now to feel the heat radiating off him from his overexertion. His shirt clings to his back with sweat, and the muscles in his arms continue to ripple with each reckless swing of the drumsticks.

He’s not just playing hard—he’s playing like he’s got something to prove.

As you reach out to tap his shoulder, you try to keep your touch firm but not aggressive, although, the moment your fingers make contact with him, his entire body jerks—drumsticks freezing mid-air as he whips his head around to face you.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, sharp and filled with a flicker of annoyance.

“What?” he snaps, voice dripping with irritation.

Keeping your expression neutral, you try not to let his attitude get to you.

“You’ve been at this for a while,” you begin, as calm as you can manage. “We have a limited selection and there are other customers who may be wanting to try this kit.”

His eyes narrow, clearly unimpressed.

“So?” he drawls, waving the drumsticks lazily, like your request is beneath him.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you press your lips together in protest. Stay professional, you remind yourself. Shifting your weight slightly, you square your shoulders and look him directly in the eyes.

“So,” you continue, voice firmer this time, “store policy is thirty minutes per instrument. You’ve been playing for over an hour.”

A low, sarcastic laugh bubbles from his chest, the sound filled with mockery as he tilts his head back slightly.

“And… what are you gonna do about it?” leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees like he's settling for a show—eyes glimmering with amusement as his lips curl into a smirk. “Throw me out?”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek—every fiber of your being is itching to knock this guy down a peg.

Ugh. What a tool.

The condescension in his voice grates on you like sandpaper, but you force yourself to stay composed.

“Look…store policy is pretty clear,” you reply evenly, nodding towards the sign behind the counter. “You either give someone else a turn, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Your words seem to pique his interest—his smirk widens, eyes flicking over you slowly, appraisingly. Suddenly you’re more interesting to him than this drum set. He pushes himself off the stool in a slow, deliberate movement, and you hold your breath the moment he towers over you.

He’s by no means, a small guy.

The light behind him is blocked from his broad shoulders, and there’s a new edge to his gaze now. The moment he invades your space, it is just a little too close for comfort.

“Oh yeah?” your stomach turns from the low suggestive timber of his voice, “And what if I don’t feel like leaving, sweetheart? You gonna make me?”

Ick.

This guy might take the cake for being the most difficult prick you’ve had to deal with here, and that’s saying something. Working in this music shop, you’ve come across a lot of full of themselves wannabees, praising themselves like the next big thing—acting like God’s gift to music when all they want to play over and over again is ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ and ‘Wonderwall.’

A surge of discomfort ripples through your body, but you stand your ground. You know how this goes—he wants a reaction, and you’re not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“Look dude, I’m not asking,” your tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. “This is your last warning”

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, and a low whistle escapes his lips, as if he’s impressed—but it’s the kind of faux admiration that makes your skin crawl.

“You’re a tough one, huh?” he muses, chuckling softly.

Leaning in, the heat of his breath brushes against your skin as he invades your space once again—far too close for comfort—and you feel his gaze sweep over you slowly, lingering in a way that feels slimy and unwelcome.

“I like a girl with a little fire,” he adds, voice dropping lower. “It always makes things more fun.”

Gross.

Your hands curl into fists by your sides and you fight the urge to recoil as a surge of revulsion twists through you like a knife.

But before you can respond—before you even have the chance to formulate the sharp retort already forming on your tongue—the air shifts and a new voice cuts in.

“Wow, did I just walk in on the world’s worst pickup line, or are we about to throw hands over a drum kit?”

Turning your head towards the source of the voice, your eyes land on a tall figure standing a few feet away—his hair is a striking shade of snowy white, messy and untamed, falling in tousled strands that almost brush against the black sunglasses obscuring his eyes, and even with his face partially hidden, there’s no mistaking the mischievous glint tugging at the corners of his mouth—like he’s watching the scene unfold for his own amusement.

Despite the casual nature of his appearance—jeans slung low, a loose-fitting hoodie—there’s something undeniably striking about him. It’s the kind of presence that demands attention without asking for it

Who the hell is this guy?

Clearly irritated by the interruption, the drummer straightens up—his smirk faltering as he sizes up the newcomer.

“This doesn’t concern you, man,” he growls, tight with irritation. “I’m just having a little conversation with her.”

The snowy stranger’s grin turns sharp, though his voice remains light.

“Yeeeah, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” he steps up beside you, and without hesitation, his arm slips around your waist, pulling you smoothly into his side like you’ve always belonged there. “Everything concerning her concerns me.”

Your heart skips a beat, caught off guard by the sudden, possessive gesture. Part of you bristles at the boldness, but another part… feels oddly safe in his grasp—like he’s been by your side forever.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere as the drummer's eyes narrow—like the balance of power has tipped—the presence of this stranger throwing him off.

“Oh really? And just who the hell are you?” he snaps.

Your mysterious stranger doesn’t miss a beat—he chuckles softly, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his eyes—brilliant, vivid blue, and gleaming with a spark that teeters between playful and dangerous. It’s the kind of look that makes your heart flip.

“Oh, me?” he feigns innocence with a nonchalant shrug, like this whole thing is just mildly amusing to him. “I’m nobody special.”

Sliding his sunglasses back into place, he casually pulls you in a bit closer, and you are met with the warmth of his body as he leans into you just slightly.

“Just here to make sure my girl doesn’t have to deal with assholes. Y’know how it is.”

Your mind scrambles to catch up.

Your girl? You blink, heat rushing to your cheeks as the words rolling off his tongue begin to register. You barely know this guy—hell, you don’t know him at all—and yet here he is, acting like the two of you are something.

But…maybe it’s working? Because the drummer’s eyes narrow further, his expression twisting as a furrow darkens over his features. Ah…but then you realize he’s not focused on the claim your stranger just made—no, his attention is locked on a different word entirely.

“Asshole?” he echoes, voice rising with indignation, practically spitting the word back. Clenching his fists, he steps forward with a scowl twisting upon you face. “You calling me an asshole?”

“Well, yeah,” your stranger remarks casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He shrugs again, utterly unfazed by the tension mounting between them. “When the shoe fits…I mean, you’re acting like one, aren’t you?”

Pure rage flashes across the drummer’s face, and you can visibly see his fists trembling slightly.

Uhh… on second thought, is this guy even helping?

Now you’re not so sure if your so-called rescuer is making things better or worse, because clearly, the drummer is on the verge of snapping.

“You better watch your mouth man,” the drummer snarls, fury simmering beneath the surface.

But the stranger’s grin only widens, and he exudes a confidence that makes it clear he’s not worried in the slightest.

“Heh. That’s a warning I get a lot,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “But y’know what? I don’t usually listen.”

It's a wonder the drumsticks the drummer is fisting haven't cracked under pressure, given how tightly he clenches them—his knuckles turn white.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he growls through gritted teeth.

A low hum rumbles against your strangers’ lips as he ponders the question thoughtfully.

“I mean, I’ve been told I’m pretty hilarious,” he scratches the back of his head, like he’s seriously considering the statement, then, glancing at you, his eyes gleam with amusement as his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose slightly.

“Whatcha think babe? Am I funny?”

The question—and that pet name—catches you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

But the drummer isn’t interested in the little game your stranger seems to be playing. His jaw clenches—teeth grinding audibly as his face hardens into something feral.

“I’m about two seconds away from wiping that stupid grin off your face,” he spits, taking another aggressive step forward.

Fucking hell, is a fight really about to break out at your work?

Your pulse quickens, and for a split second, you think he might actually swing at him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the stranger says, still grinning like none of this phases him.

He releases his hold on your waist and steps forward with a smooth, almost lazy movement, placing himself between you and the drummer. His hands slip casually into his pockets, posture relaxed, but the air around him shifts.

“Let’s pump the brakes, big guy,” he tilts his head slightly, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone. “You’re welcome to try. But I’ll tell ya right now—” his teasing lilt diminishes, replaced by something colder, more commanding, “you’re not gonna like how it ends.”

His words—a warning and a challenge wrapped in one—hang heavy, and for a moment it feels like the entire store is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens next. Glancing around, you notice a few customers watching the scene unfold.

Fucking hell—this has gone from bad to worse.

And yet…the drummer doesn’t swing. He doesn’t move—doesn’t even flinch.

He’s seething—rage evident in the set of his jaw, the clenched fists at his sides—but something about the stranger’s calm, unwavering demeanor is throwing him off balance. It’s almost impressive, really.

No, scratch that—it is impressive.

You misjudged this guy. He might have walked in here like a cocky troublemaker, throwing out cheesy one-liners and pushing your buttons, but now? Now, he’s cool under pressure, defusing a situation that could’ve easily escalated into violence.

Body language often says more than words ever could, and his is completely in control—relaxed, hands in his pockets, not a single muscle tensed for a fight, yet there’s a sharpness beneath the surface—an unspoken control that demands attention.

It’s brilliant in a way. He’s defusing the threat without lifting a finger—a textbook example of how to manage tension without aggression. This guy is winning a psychological game the drummer doesn’t even realize he’s playing.

Their silent standoff stretches, until finally, the stranger breaks the silence with his smooth and almost disarmingly casual voice.

“Look, man,” he shrugs one shoulder with a nonchalance that seems almost practiced. “This is me giving you a chance to walk away with your dignity intact.” Tilting his head slightly, he gestures toward you with a subtle nod. “She asked you politely to stop. This is a store, not your personal garage. So maybe it’s time you pack it up and go before you make things worse.”

There’s a moment—a pause that feels like it stretches just a beat too long—where you can practically see the drummer’s gears turning in his head, weighing his options, trying to hold onto whatever’s left of his bravado.

Then, finally, he mutters through gritted teeth,

“Whatever.”

The word is spat out, dripping with frustration and barely-contained rage, and with a sharp movement, he tosses the drumsticks onto the kit—the wooden sticks clattering against the drums in a final act of defiance.

“You’re not worth it, and this place sucks anyway,” he mutters, full of aggravation, but his heart no longer in it—it’s clear his fight has deflated.

Turning sharply on his heel, he shoves past both you and the stranger with a forceful shoulder, storming toward the exit, and once the door slams shut behind him, the sound reverberates through the store with an unmistakable finality.

Just like that, the tension breaks. It’s like the whole store exhales at once—the weight lifting from the air as the distant murmur of customers resumes.

Before you can fully process what just happened, the stranger beside you turns his attention back to you.

“Well, that was fun,” he remarks, “Could’ve gone worse though. I mean, I didn’t even get to throw a punch. Talk about anti-climactic, huh?”

You barely manage to take a breath as he closes the space between you just a little more, his movements slow and intentional, and your heart flutters the moment his sunglasses slip down slightly, just enough for you to get a direct glimpse of his eyes. They lock onto yours—those bright, vivid blues—and for a second, everything else around you fades into the background.

“Seriously though,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “You okay?”

There’s something undeniably genuine in his tone, something that cuts through the playful exterior and lands right in your chest. You weren’t expecting that—this tenderness from someone who moments ago had brushed off a near-fight like it was nothing.

His eyes—soft but still burning with intensity—hold yours captive, and for a second, you forget how to speak.

“Uh… yeah,” you manage, “I think so.”

“Good,” he says with a nod, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Because I think you owe me a ‘thank you’ for that stellar rescue.”

You blink out of incredulity.

Thank you?

So much for tender—who does this guy think he is? You nearly scoff aloud. He wants a 'thank you' for a rescue that, truthfully, you weren’t even sure you needed?

Unsure whether you’re amused or annoyed by his arrogance, you open your mouth to respond—but before you can say anything, he cuts you off with a wink.

“Kidding,” he says with a chuckle, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Always happy to help.” His hands settle into his pockets and he pauses, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Especially when it means I get to rescue a pretty girl like you.”

The compliment lands harder than you’d care to admit as you feel the warmth creeping up your neck and into your cheeks—betraying the fact that—against your better judgment—you’re not entirely immune to his charm.

A flicker of something stirs in your chest…

—nope. Let’s not go there.

Pushing it down before it can grow into something more, you refuse to let that feeling root itself.

You’re not looking for attention, especially not from a guy like this—a guy who flashes a cocky grin like he knows it works. The kind of guy who acts like the world bends to his whims.

Romance? No thanks. You’ve got bigger things to focus on. He’s exactly the kind of distraction you don’t need.

“Rescue might be a strong word,” you mutter, finally finding your voice again as you cross your arms over your chest. “I had it under control… mostly.”

“Oh, you did? My bad,” leaning in slightly, his voice lowers as if sharing a secret. “But trust me, that guy? He was one wrong word away from turning this into a full-on disaster. You’re lucky I stepped in when I did.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at his comment, refusing to let him rattle you this time, and there’s a flicker of amusement creeping into your voice as you challenge him.

“Lucky, huh? So, what now? You expecting a medal or something?”

His grin widens—a grin that’s undeniably magnetic, but you resist being pulled into its orbit.

“Naaaah, I’m not that high maintenance,” straightening himself, he regards you with a slight tilt of the head. “But… I’ll take a coffee if you’re offering.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by his response.

Did he just… ask you out?

“Wait, what?” you stammer, not quite sure you heard him right.

“A coffee,” he repeats smoothly. “Y’know, like a reward for my heroic efforts.” He pauses, just long enough to make it clear he’s toying with you. “Or is that too forward? I can settle for your number instead.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips—a sharp exhale that’s part disbelief, part amusement. This guy is unbelievable.

Nope. You’re not going to let him get to you that easily.

“I don’t even know your name,” you shoot back, lifting your chin just a little higher, “and you’re already angling for a reward?”

“Ouch, y/n,” he replies, placing a hand dramatically over his chest as if you’ve wounded him deeply—his grin, however, never falters. “That stings.”

You stare at him, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“How do you…?”

“How do I know your name?” he finishes for you, clearly enjoying this a little too much. He tilts his head. “Well, for starters, your nametag.”

Oh.

You glance down quickly and—of course—there it is, printed neatly on the tag pinned to your shirt, and now you are mentally kicking yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Right… of course,” you shake your head in mild embarrassment. It’s infuriating how easily he’s messing with you.

An amused chuckle dances on his lips and he leans back ever so slightly—hands in his pockets like he has all the time in the world.

“But that’s not the only reason I know you,” he adds, voice taking on a more playful tone, almost like he’s daring you to figure it out. “You really don’t recognize me, do you?”

You blink, trying to piece together where you might’ve seen him before. There’s something vaguely familiar about his voice…have you heard it before? Do you know him?

“I don’t…” you start, trailing off, searching for any spark of recognition, but you come up blank. “Uhh… should I?”

Flashing you a toothy smile, he's clearly delighted by your confusion.

“Ouch again. Double whammy,” with a dramatic sigh, he shakes his head in mock disappointment as his crooked grin curves up. “I guess I’m not as memorable as I thought.”

Your eyebrow quirks up at his theatrics, and despite yourself, the corner of your lips do too. Ugh. You want to be irritated with him but somehow, he makes it incredibly hard to be.

“Right… well,” tilting your head, your voice dips with playful sarcasm, “maybe if you told me your name, it might jog my memory?”

With a soft chuckle, he slides his sunglasses off and rests them on top of his head, and just like that, you’re greeted with the full, unobstructed view of his eyes—striking, electric blue, so vivid they almost don’t seem real, and they lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a flutter through your chest.

“Satoru,” he says smoothly, as if his name alone should be enough to make everything click. “Gojo Satoru.”

The name floats in your mind, like it’s circling around something, but still, nothing concrete surfaces. He seems so confident—so sure that you should know who he is—and it only adds to your frustration.

Do you know him?

Generally, you keep to yourself, both at work and on campus—with your moms condition you don’t really have time for the exciting college life. Tilting your head, your eyes narrow as you study his face—surely, you would have remembered someone like him... wouldn’t you?

“Gojo Satoru…” you test the name on your tongue as if saying it aloud might unlock some hidden memory. But still—nothing. “Sorry, not ringing any bells.”

Satoru laughs again, rich and unbothered, like this is the highlight of his day.

“Wow, I’m really striking out today,” he shakes his head in mock dismay. “I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

Before you can muster a response, he reaches out casually, plucking a pair of drumsticks from an endcap display nearby, twirling them between his fingers like it’s second nature. He examines them for a moment, then looks back at you with a raised brow.

“So, since we’re here and I’m feeling generous… how about you check me out?”

You glance down at the drumsticks in his hand, then back up at him—his expression is unreadable, that signature smirk lingering as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“...you mean ring up the drumsticks, right?” you clarify, though your voice is uncertain.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” he murmurs, and then, with a sly wink, he adds, “But I don’t mind if you do both.”

For a beat, your breath hitches, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes.

Okay—this is guy is definitely a flirt. You’re not falling for his trap.

“Wow… you’re really not subtle, are you?” reaching out, you snatch the drumsticks from his hand. “How many women actually fall for that?” you turn on your heel towards the counter, and he follows in step.

“Hmm…I’m not exactly keeping score,” he admits. “But let’s just say I don’t hear too many complaints.”

Glancing back at him, you arch an eyebrow as you approach the register—fingers automatically moving to unlock your cash drawer, and he leans casually against the counter beside you, propping his elbow on it—like he owns the space.

“Will say though,” he adds, voice dipping lower, “I don’t usually have to try this hard. You’re pretty special.”

You scoff, your fingers hesitating slightly over the keys, though you refuse to let him see how his words make a tiny flutter bloom in your chest.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you mutter under your breath, trying—and failing—to focus solely on the transaction.

Satoru hums, watching you with that same playful gleam in his eyes.

“Nah,” his tone drops to something almost conspiratorial, “you’re definitely one of a kind.”

Yup. He’s a smooth talker—and without a doubt, bad news.

Pressing your lips together, you force your gaze to remain on the screen in front of you. He’s playing a game, and you’re determined not to lose.

As you scan the barcode on the drumsticks, he casually pulls out his wallet to pay, and that’s when something catches your eye—a student ID peeking out from the clear pocket inside his wallet.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, your fingers hover mid-air as you get a better look. The ID is familiar—yet you can't make out the school’s name plastered right across it, but the logo and the colors are unmistakable.

Wait a second…

“We go to the same school?”

Satoru looks up, his grin stretching even wider and the glimmer in his eyes practically daring you to catch up—he’s been waiting for this moment.

“Took ya long enough,” he teases, playful but with a hint of smugness. “Yeah, we do.”

You blink, the pieces clicking together a little too late.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you demand, unable to stop the half-accusatory, half-embarrassed tone that underlines your voice. A groan slips past your lips and you shake your head in frustration. “I swear…you’ve been messing with me this whole time.”

With an amused chuckles, Satoru lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug.

“Hey, it’s more fun this way,” he leans in a little closer, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “Besides,” he pauses, tilting his head just slightly while his lips curve into a sly grin. “I like watching you piece things together. You’ve got this cute little furrow in your brow when you’re thinking hard.”

The intensity in his eyes makes your breath hitch, and no matter how hard you resist, there’s that undeniable flutter in your chest, warm and unwanted.

“How come I’ve never seen you around?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation back onto safer ground.

“Oof. You’re killing me, y/n. I pass by you every day, actually.”

You frown, narrowing your eyes.

“Every day? Where?”

“The water fountain,” he says smoothly, tapping his fingers on the counter rhythmically, just a light touch. “Y’know, where you sit and study. Every afternoon, without fail. I walk by almost every day.”

Ah. That’s why his voice must’ve sounded familiar. You probably heard him—another voice blending into the background while you were studying.

“Really? Guess I never noticed you.”

Resting his chin in his hand, a dramatic huff falls from Satoru's lips as they form into a pout.

“Jeez…you don’t quit. I can’t believe I’m that forgettable.”

You can’t resist the soft laugh that escapes you, despite yourself—it’s hard not to find his antics at least a little amusing, and though you’d never admit it, the way he’s so desperate for your attention is almost… cute.

“Maybe you just blend into the background too much,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow while extending your hand, silently gesturing for his payment.

“Ouch...” he winces dramatically, pulling out his card before placing it in your hand. “Okay, that one stung a little.”

“Yeah, well… I’m sure your ego will recover,” you quip, glancing up briefly before focusing back on the transaction. But there’s a brief pause as you swipe his card—a silence that suddenly feels charged with something else.

You can feel his gaze lingering on you, heavy and expectant, and you try your hardest not to give in to the pull to look at him again—but the heat of his attention is unmistakable, almost like a gravitational force pulling you in, and you can feel your pulse quicken under his scrutiny.

“I gotta say, you’ve got a sharp tongue—I like it,” he murmurs.

Your fingers freeze for just a second, your breath hitching slightly as his tone shifts, and you can’t resist—your eyes flick up and he holds your gaze captive yet again.

“But it’s a bad habit, y’know,” he continues, his voice dropping, growing more intent as his eyes flicker over your features. “Not being aware of your surroundings like that...” leaning in just a fraction, his words become a quiet murmur between the two of you. “What if some creep tried to take advantage of you?”

The gentleness in his demeanor… is he genuinely concerned? It’s hard to tell—harder than you’d like to admit—and it’s easier to convince yourself he isn’t—that this is all part of his charming routine, because that makes it easier to ignore the subtle pull he has on you.

“Well,” you keep your voice steady, despite the flutter in your chest, “lucky for me, no one’s tried. Unless…” tilting your head slightly, a teasing smirk tugs at your lips, “you’re secretly admitting to being a creep.”

Satoru’s laugh spills out, rich and warm, breaking the moment just enough for you to catch your breath.

“Nah, I’m not creep,” his voice lightens as he straightens up just a little. “Just a concerned citizen looking out for someone who’s too absorbed in her textbooks to notice the world around her.”

You huff, though the corners of your mouth twitch upward against your will.

“I can handle myself, thank you very much,” you quip back, determined to maintain control over the situation. In a quick, defiant motion, you grab the receipt and shove it into his hand, a small victorious gesture.

“Right, right. You definitely proved that today when I swooped in for the rescue,” he teases, and his hand brushes yours ever so briefly as he takes the receipt—a touch so light is sends a tiny spark up your arm. “But hey, what if you don’t show up at the fountain one day? I’m gonna have to file a missing person’s report.”

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

“A missing person’s report? Seriously?” you roll your eyes.

“Yup,” he grins, emphasizing the ‘p’. “You’re there so often it’s practically routine. Same spot. Same time. Every day. It’s kinda predictable, y/n. If I don’t see you there one day, I’ll just assume some creep finally got to you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you can’t help the faint heat rising in your cheeks.

“Predictable?” you retort, trying to sound indignant. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you are,” he counters, clearly reveling in your reaction as he slips the receipt in his pocket. “But hey, that’s not a bad thing. It makes you easier to find if you ever disappear.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes, a snappy reply ready on your tongue, but he’s already raising his hands with a dramatic flair, like he’s about to paint the scene in vivid detail.

“I can see it now: ‘Missing: Cute girl who spends way too much time by the water fountain. Last seen buried in a psychology textbook. Answers to y/n.’”

It’s impossible not to laugh again, the sound bubbling up as you watch him weave his ridiculous scenario with such confidence and flair. His eyes flick to yours, and a satisfied grin tugs at the corner of his mouth—clearly pleased with the effect he’s having on you.

“Wow,” you manage between chuckles. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“Mhm,” he hums in agreement, leaning slightly closer. “Gotta be prepared. I don’t want anything happening to my favorite water fountain girl.”

Your heart flips—and for a second, it feels like he’s given you some kind of title you didn’t realize you wanted. You try to brush it off, to ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks, but it’s not so easy with the way he’s looking at you.

“Riiiight… well, lucky for you,” you manage, attempting to sound nonchalant, “I’m not planning on disappearing anytime soon.”

“Good,” he murmurs, low and smooth. “Because I’d miss seeing you.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the upper hand, though the small smile that tugs at your lips betrays you.

“Uh-huh. Sure you would.”

There’s a brief moment, just the two of you—his gaze still locked onto yours, when—

“Ahem.”

You jump slightly at the sound, turning to see Utahime standing beside you, arms crossed, a knowing smile pulling at the corner of her lips. She gives you a look—a very knowing look—that sends heat rushing to your cheeks all over again.

“I’m taking my break,” she says, her tone casual but her eyes dancing with mischief as they flick between you and Satoru. “So… don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

Suddenly hyper-aware of the tension in the air, you swallow hard and offer her a tight smile.

“No promises,” Satoru quips, that cocky grin returning to his face as he leans against the counter slightly—clearly unfazed by the interruption.

After Utahime saunters off, he continues smoothly, picking up right where he left off.

“So...” he starts again, “What do you say? How about you give me your number? Just in case I need it, y’know, for emergencies.”

He’s relentless, isn’t he?

Heat creeps up your neck as you blink from his boldness—with a soft, incredulous laugh, you desperately try to find your footing again.

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

That familiar and confident gleam glistens in his eyes as his grin widens.

“Not when it comes to someone as interesting as you.”

There’s a flicker of something in your chest—a flutter that you’re quick to squash.

“Mmm… sorry,” you murmur, tone sweet but firm. “But I don’t think you’re ready for that kind of disappointment. I’m really not interested in players.”

For the briefest moment, his grin falters, and something unreadable flashes behind his eyes—a momentary crack in his facade. It’s so quick, so subtle, that you almost miss it. But there’s just enough time to wonder if maybe you hit a nerve.

Still, Satoru recovers in an instant, his playful charm sliding back into place like nothing happened.

“That’s cold, y/n,” his voice light and teasing, though there’s a trace of something deeper, almost wounded, lurking beneath. “You really think I’m that kind of guy?”

Tilting your head slightly, you cross your arms over your chest as you study him—gaze sharp but not unkind.

“Yeah, well, I’ve met enough guys like you to know how this works.”

With a soft chuckle, and a smooth, almost lazy motion, he lowers his sunglasses from where they’re perched atop his head—resting them back on the bridge of his nose as the dark lenses now obscure his eyes from you.

He’s hiding behind them—letting them do the work of shielding his real thoughts. Huh. Typical behavior for someone who enjoys the chase but avoids real vulnerability.

“You’re quick to judge. I’m just a guy who knows what he wants. And right now? I just want your number.”

Classic deflection—you think. He’s not even denying it. Still... something about the way he says it makes that familiar flutter stir in your chest, and you hate it.

“Yeah... that’s not happening,” crossing your arms more tightly, you try to maintain control of the situation.

His hands come up in mock surrender as a small, amused sigh slips from his lips.

“Bummer,” he concedes, though there’s no real disappointment in his tone, only amusement. “But hey,” he picks up the drumsticks from the counter, “offer’s on the table if you ever change your mind.”

“Right... I’ll keep that in mind,” you dryly reply, knowing full well that you won’t.

“Please do,” he shoots back with that infuriatingly confident grin. “Besides, I’ll be seeing you around, water fountain girl.”

The familiar nickname brings an unwanted warmth that you attempt to shake off.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Gojo.”

But Satoru just steps back toward the door, exuding that same unshakeable confidence. “Oh, I’m not worried,” he says with a cocky smirk. “You’re predictable, remember? I know exactly where to find you.”

You open your mouth, ready to fire back with something witty, but before you can, he’s already halfway out the door, twirling the drumsticks between his fingers with effortless ease.

“See ya around, y/n,” he calls over his shoulder, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft jingle before you even have a chance to respond.

And just like that, the store feels quiet again, as if the air shifted back to normal now that he’s gone. You stand there for a moment, blinking at the closed door. You should feel relieved that he’s gone, that the exchange is over, but instead, you’re left with this strange, restless feeling you can’t quite shake.

What the hell just happened?

Shaking your head, you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. There’s a part of you that’s frustrated—frustrated at how easily he slipped under your skin, how effortlessly he managed to unsettle you with nothing but a grin and a few flirtatious remarks.

You hate that you’re even thinking about it. About him. He’s just another guy with too much confidence for his own good.

But something about the brief crack in his facade sticks with you. That fleeting moment where his grin faltered, and something else—something almost vulnerable—flickered behind those cocky blue eyes.

What was that?

With another shake of your head, you push the thought aside. He’s a flirt. A player. The kind of guy who never takes anything seriously.

That’s all there is to it.

You don’t have time to psychoanalyze every flippant guy who crosses your path, even if there’s a part of you that’s still curious.

Just as you’re about to shake off the thoughts entirely, your phone buzzes in your pocket, snapping you out of your daze. You pull it out, glancing down at the screen.

Kyoko: Hey sweetie, just wanted to let you know your mom's been having a rough day today. She’s more confused than usual, keeps asking for you. Maybe you could visit soon?”

Reality crashes back in—grounding you in the weight of your responsibilities.

With a sigh, you run a hand through your hair, already mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead.

You: Thanks for the update, Aunt Kyoko. My shift is almost over, I’ll be home soon.

Focus. There’s no room for distractions—not right now.

Not with Satoru Gojo. Not with anyone.

a/n. thanks for reading the debut of bomh (or i guess the re-debut since this is a rewrite? hehe). i'm excited to explore a lot of topics in this fic, and rewriting it definitely helped rekindle my passion for this story. so, i'm looking forward with whats to come! hope ya'll enjoyed 💕 → you are currently all caught up ♪

taglist:

@gojoslefttoenail @satoryaa @ninjaturtletoes @murtabuckz @sorcerersseestars

@reagan707 @sakurasimppp @sugxryratz @tkyemfk @lovelyjkook

@lovebittenbyevans @kaemaybae @bloopsstuff

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elizaleclerc · 4 months

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Hello, I love your writing, can I request Charles Leclerc x singer!reader where they already knew each other back when they were teenagers but the reader moves to LA to pursue her career so they kinda feel off cuz of the long distance, so years later Charles decides to surprise her at one of her concerts and tries to shoot his shoot after all those years they end up together and it's all fluffy and cute.

Sorry if this doesn't make sense english is not my first language, thank you <3

love this!!! tysm <3

birds of a feather ✿

charles leclerc x reader

summary: fem singer!reader reignites an old teenage love with famous driver charles leclerc

songs: birds of a feather by b.eilish, the 1 by t.swift

author’s note: mostly cute and fluffy but had to add a bit of angst oops! inspo from billie’s new album obv bc that’s all i’m listening to rn. also some google translate involved so oops again if it’s wrong :)

word count: 4k

In the luxurious city of Monaco, you and Charles were cruising along the winding roads late at night, a favored pastime for the two of you. The cool breeze tousled your hair as the windows were rolled down, filling the car with the scent of saltwater and adventure. You stole a glance at Charles in the driver's seat, his face adorned with that familiar boyish grin, his eyes sparkling just as they did on the day you met him.

The car zoomed down the winding road, its expensive engine purring like a contented cat. Despite its luxurious interior, Charles had no qualms about letting you put your feet up on the dash. The scarlet sky painted with streaks of orange and pink was the perfect backdrop for this drive at sunset.

One thing different about this drive at sunset was that one of your own songs was playing on the radio. At only 19 years old, your song “Birds of a Feather” was reaching the top of the charts worldwide. At any chance he got, Charles would blast it at full volume whenever the two of you were together. It only made sense considering the song was about him.

You and Charles had been inseparable since childhood, a bond that felt unbreakable and essential to your very existence. Over the years, you both had your fair share of romantic partners, but it seemed like none of them could compare to the connection you shared. Despite any ups and downs in your own love lives, you and Charles always found your way back to each other, like two ships anchored together in the stormy sea of life.

Of course, there were fleeting moments when you wondered if there could be something more between you and Charles. The thought would cross your mind as his hand brushed yours or when he made you laugh until your sides ached. But those thoughts remained just that - fleeting and unspoken. You both cherished your friendship too much to risk changing its dynamic.

But deep down, underneath layers of familiarity and comfort, there was a quiet longing that neither of you acknowledged. A shared understanding that there was something more between you than just being best friends. And although it was left unsaid, it was an unspoken truth that added a layer of depth to your friendship.

The bass of the song throbbed through the car, drowning out Charles' words as he spoke to you. You strained to hear him over the music, but all you could see were his lips moving in time with the beat. "What?!" you shouted comically with a grin, and he reached for the volume knob to turn it down.

"I said, it's only a matter of time before you're touring worldwide," he repeated with a small smile. You shook your head in amusement. Charles always had grand visions for your music career, dreaming of reaching the stars and achieving the highest goals even when you couldn't imagine them yourself.

“You’re only saying that to be nice,” you playfully bantered with him, knowing deep down he truly believed in your talent.

A wistful smile crossed his face as he replied, “I’m serious. Before you know it, you’ll be in L.A., living your dream and making music for the world.” His words had a bittersweet edge to them, causing your own smile to falter. There was truth in his statement - Charles had just signed with Ferrari and would soon be the busiest he's ever been in his career as a Formula One driver. You were endlessly proud of him and all that he had accomplished. It feels like just yesterday when you both were just kids with big dreams, but now here you are, actually making strides towards achieving those dreams. Even with a hit song on the radio and promising opportunities ahead, you still felt like you were ages behind in becoming someone big in the music industry. And the thought of possibly leaving your best friend behind as you pursued your dreams weighed heavily on your heart.

He noticed the solemn expression on your face, his eyes full of understanding and affection. "Ah, come on," he said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You know I mean that in a good way." His voice was warm and sincere."L.A. is a hotbed for the music industry right now," he continued, his excitement palpable. "And haven't you always talked about wanting to go to the States?"

You nodded slowly, unable to contain a small smile at the thought. "Yeah, but...I can't even imagine us being apart for so long," you admitted with a hint of sadness. "We've never been separated for more than a week. And even then, you were blowing up my phone every day." You couldn't help but laugh at the memory.

His own laughter rang out, contagious and genuine. "So now you know that when you're in the U.S., you won't have to worry about us not talking," he reassured you. "Clearly, I can't get enough of you." His words made your heart swell with love and comfort. Despite any ridiculous or anxious thoughts that may cross your mind, you were always reminded that the bond between you two could stretch thousands of miles.

About a week later, you had hired a manager with the help of your parents and were looking at record labels to sign with. Your social media pages were blowing up with new fans anticipating and begging for new music. It was a rightful step for a singer who had just had a song blow up, to make more music.

After many phone calls and contracts, you decided on the best deal to sign with the record label you had always wanted. With a location in Los Angeles, Sony Music Entertainment was your new employer.

As the days passed, the familiar childhood bedroom in Monaco slowly transformed into a maze of boxes and packing materials. The bittersweet scent of nostalgia clung to the air as you said goodbye to the people and places that had shaped you. It was early February, just before the newest Formula One season started, but Charles seemed to be swallowed up by his work, juggling the responsibilities of being their rookie driver. In those fleeting moments between racing events, he squeezed in time for you, knowing that soon you would both be consumed by your separate paths. On the last night together, you took a nostalgic drive around town, savoring every street corner and landmark. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you returned to your house - now empty and cold without all of your belongings. The silence hung heavy in the air as you sat side by side, cherishing these final moments together.

You both sat on your bed as you rested your head on his shoulder and asked, “How did this even happen?”

“Your talent will always drive you towards success, how could it not happen?” He replied and it made your eyes water. You weren’t sure how you were going to adjust with your time apart. You’ll miss his advice and little jokes. You’ll miss your late night drives around Monaco with him, taking in the cool air.

As he turned to face you, his piercing eyes caught the glistening trails of tears streaming down your cheeks. His own expression shifted from concern to sadness as he took in the sight of your heartbroken state. With a heavy sigh, he reached out to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek and murmured, "Please don't cry." Your eyes met his with a solemn understanding, but your bottom lip began to quiver despite your efforts.

You couldn't help but notice the glimmer of tears in his own eyes, which only made your own tears flow even more freely. Together, you both sat on the edge of your bed, gripping each other's hands tightly as you cried until it became almost comical at just how much emotion was pouring out of both of you. In between sobs, he managed to let out a small laugh and said, "It's not even an actual goodbye, I'll see you again soon.”

You couldn't help but laugh along with him through your tears. "I know," you replied with a watery smile. "I'll see you before I know it.”

But as the night wore on and the hour grew late, the reality of tomorrow morning's early flight to L.A. began to sink in. Despite wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible, you both knew it was time to say goodbye. You stood up and shared one final embrace, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug while yours rested around his neck. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his cologne brought a sense of comfort amidst the pain of parting ways.

“Tu vas me manquer mon amour,” he whispered by your ear, which made you squeeze him tighter.

“Tu vas me manquer davantage, Char.” You replied with a raspy voice, your cheeks still wet with tears. He blew you a kiss before walking out the door.

~ 5 years later ~

The electric energy of Los Angeles, California pulsed through the air as you walked towards the venue on the opening night of your highly anticipated second tour. Fresh off the massive success of your second album, fans from all over the world were eagerly awaiting your performance tonight. You could already hear their screams and see their signs, some bearing your name since the very beginning of your career. Your first tour had been small, just a few cities in the U.S., but now with your skyrocketing fame, this tour would take you to stages across the globe. The thought of performing for thousands of people in different countries sent a thrill through your veins. As you approached the entrance, excitement and nerves intertwined within you, ready to take on this new chapter in your music career.

As you nervously waited backstage, dressed in a stunning white gown for your highly anticipated opening night in Los Angeles, your mind couldn't help but wander to a familiar name: Charles. The two of you had been inseparable during your first year in L.A., constantly talking and supporting each other's dreams. But as time went on, his calls and texts became less frequent until they eventually stopped altogether. You found yourself relying on social media to keep up with him and were happy to see that he had found success with Ferrari, but also couldn't shake the feeling of hurt and confusion as to why he had suddenly disappeared from your life. You debated reaching out to congratulate him on his wins, but deep down, you knew it wouldn't make a difference.

The next years after that became hard, and you struggled to make genuine connections with anyone in the industry. You found that often other artists wanted to use you for their fame or publicity. But you had found one genuine person, your boyfriend. The two of you dated for two years, but two weeks before the opening night of your world tour, he broke things off. You were devastated, as he had become someone you loved dearly and could trust with your whole being. His reason was that he realized he couldn’t handle your level of fame and that it was becoming too much for him to handle.

So here you were, backstage, reminiscing on your career up until this point. Your mind ran over the setlist a thousand times. “Birds of a Feather” hadn’t made the cut for this tour, and you stopped performing it all together once Charles had stopped communicating with you. You weren’t sure why he was on your mind so much for your opening night.

As you stepped out onto the stage, a wave of excited nerves washed over you. But with each step and movement, your confidence grew until it radiated off of you like a second skin. The bright lights illuminated your white dress, making it glow against the dark backdrop. You knew this dress well, having spent hours upon hours rehearsing in it, mastering every twirl and flick of the sleeves. And now, as you sang and danced flawlessly, you felt like a true star. Every note was hit perfectly, every movement graceful and deliberate. It was as if you were born to be on that stage, commanding the attention of everyone in the audience. The familiar click of a metronome and the muffled directions from backstage played in your in-ears, guiding you through the performance like a well-oiled machine. You had become a masterful performer, honing your craft to perfection.

You wished you could remember every moment of this night as you went through the setlist. You performed “the 1”, a song from your most recent album. Fans speculated it was about the recent split with your boyfriend, but really in your mind you knew it was about Charles. Your fans mostly were unaware of Charles and the old friendship the two of you had. He rarely talked about you in the media, and you were never asked about him, even though the two of you were individually growing more famous by the day.

As the final song ended, you returned backstage, the sweat dripping down your face and your body heaving with exhaustion. This tour was more physically demanding than your last one, with intricate dance routines and high-energy performances. But it was all worth it as you heard the crowd's roar of approval after each song and saw their hands in the air, singing along to every lyric. The adrenaline rush and satisfaction of a flawless opening night kept you going despite the fatigue setting in.

You got a flood of compliments from your team and the crew backstage as you felt the dewy feeling of sweat on your forehead cool down. Your manager came up to and wrapped you in a big hug, congratulating you and updating you on the next steps for the tour.

“I know you don’t typically meet people after shows, but there’s actually a visitor here for you. He was pretty persistent.” She told you as you stood outside your dressing room.

“Who is it?” You asked tiredly, not wishing for long interactions with people after the show. You were worn out, and typically napped or slept through the night after a long show.

“He said his name is Charles Leclerc. Went on about how you guys were childhood friends. He showed his ID and credentials so we allowed it.” Your manager explained everything and as she was speaking your face became flushed. Charles was here, in L.A? And your management had allowed him to meet with you. You were partly in shock and partly frustrated with how easily he was able to persuade your team.

“Well…where is he?” You asked, and your manager pointed to your dressing room door. “He’s in my dressing room?” You questioned in a surprised voice, lowering your voice in case he could hear you.

“We weren’t sure where else he could’ve waited. He made it seem like he needed to have a serious talk with you.” She explained further and you put your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth, and thought that maybe she was joking. You thought that you’d open up your dressing room door and it would be empty, earning a loud laugh from her and a “Got you!”

As you slowly opened your door, still clad in your flowing white dress, your heart caught in your throat as you saw Charles sitting on the plush brown leather couch. The air was thick with surprise and a tinge of nervousness, evidenced by Charles' fidgeting hands rubbing against his pants. You could barely breathe as you managed to utter a breathless greeting, "Hi."

He stood up abruptly, his body language tense and unsure. “Hi,” he replied.

The silence hung between you like a heavy curtain as you asked, "What...um...what are you doing here?" Your fingers instinctively ran through your slightly tangled hair as you waited for his response, feeling both overwhelmed and curious about this unexpected visit.

As he stood before you, he seemed to struggle with his words, his voice catching and pausing as if trying to contain an overwhelming emotion. You gazed at him in awe, taking in every detail of his changed appearance. The dimple in his cheek still deepened when he spoke, the same crystal eyes sparkled with unreadable emotions. But now his shoulders were broader, defined muscles rippling beneath his shirt, and his neck had thickened with strength. It was clear that time had passed, but it had only enhanced his features instead of diminishing them. "I," he finally managed to say, his gaze never leaving yours, "I came here to apologize." You couldn't believe he was standing in front of you after so long. And in this moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him and how different things could have been if he had stayed.

“Apologize?” You repeated, awaiting further clarification.

“I’ve missed you terribly.” He began to pour out, finally getting a grip on his words, “Every day we haven’t been together has haunted me. You’ve plagued my dreams, my every waking thought.” He took a swallow, “I see you online, doing amazing things, and I just feel this guilt that I’m not there with you.”

You could hardly believe the words he was saying. You felt the same, you missed him every morning you woke and every night you went to sleep. Yet you felt a tinge of resentment. He could have been there, he could have responded to your dozens of calls and texts.

“I’m sorry, mon chérie.” He finished his speech.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and your eyes watered with emotion, your face contorted with hurt. Your voice came out breathless as you spoke, "Char, why didn't you call?" Your heart ached with longing and you couldn't understand why he hadn't taken action to bridge the distance between you. The unspoken desire between you was almost tangible, making the current situation even more painful for both of you.

“My ex-girlfriend, once we got together she saw how often we communicated and told me that I couldn’t talk to you anymore. And I thought I loved her so much that I was willing to do whatever it took. But…it turns out…” He paused, looking you in the eyes.

“What?” You questioned, waiting for him to spit it out.

“It turns out as the years went on, that I just loved you.” He said as he stepped closer.

“You don’t mean that,” You denied shaking your head, a single tear running down your cheek.

“But I do,” he grabbed your hand, “I think I’ve always loved you.”

You broke out into a grin while tears still fell, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your head into his chest. “What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry mon amour, I guess I was just too stupid to actually do anything. But I love you, I love you so much.” His arms wrapped around your waist, kissing the top of your head.

You pulled back and placed your hands on his face, admiring his mature features. He took his thumbs to wipe off the tears on your face. “I love you too,” You told him and he grinned. “Will you finally kiss me?”

His lips met yours in a gentle, yet passionate, kiss. As your heart raced and butterflies fluttered in your stomach, you couldn't help but smile as his lips moved against yours. It was your first kiss with the love of your life, a moment that you would never forget.

You had always known deep down that he was the one for you, but you had spent so long convincing yourself that a friendship was all it could ever be. But now, as you felt the warmth of his embrace and the intensity of his kiss, you realized that the love of your life could also be your best friend - the person who knows and understands you better than anyone else in the world. And in that moment, you were grateful for every step that had led you to this perfect moment with him.

Charles had to return to his Formula One season, but the two of you called every day. He made it to shows on your tour when he could, and when you traveled to France to play your home show, he was there for every minute of it.

The crowd knew that this show was special, and fans had picked up on the new romance between you and Charles. Everyone was loving it, and older fans finally put the pieces together on the connection the two of you had. So for your home show, you played “Birds of a Feather” for everyone as a surprise, with Charles in attendance. The song had only changed meaning slightly, as you sang it with more love towards him than you’ve ever had before. Headlines were soon filled with your name along with his.

As the next year rolled around and January came, the two of you were inseparable at award shows, him proudly by your side for every one of your achievements. His smile lit up the room and his hand always found yours in the sea of people. Even when you won your first Grammy, he was there in all of your acceptance speeches, his eyes sparkling with pride.

As the year went on and you took a break from touring, you joined him on the road during his racing season. The roar of engines and smell of burning rubber filled your senses as you watched him race with skill and determination. The paddock quickly became like a second home to you, with fans flocking to meet the both of you. The Ferrari team welcomed you with open arms, treating you like family. It was a dream come true to be able to share this passion with him, and you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your time off.

Charles never dulled your shine; in fact, he basked in its radiance. He was not intimidated by your fame, but rather, he reveled in it. As you both shared stories about past relationships, Charles' understanding became apparent. He may have been known for different reasons, but he knew the highs and lows that came with celebrity status. Together, you formed an unbreakable bond of understanding and support. Life had become akin to heaven with Charles by your side, a constant source of love and grounding amidst the chaos of fame.

Together, you moved into a luxurious apartment in the heart of Monaco. The spacious living room had been transformed into your personal music studio, with instruments and recording equipment scattered about in organized chaos. The walls were adorned with posters from your past tours and handwritten lyrics. Charles stood by the window, looking out at the stunning view of the city below, while you strummed your guitar on the plush couch. The sense of security and stability he brought to your life was palpable - his presence assuring you that he would always be there, no matter where your music took you. As you played him your latest compositions, his fingers effortlessly danced across the keys of the piano, adding depth and richness to the melodies. Together, you created magic in that space - harmonizing not just in music but also in life.

As you laid in bed one night, your head rested on the pillow turned towards him, you caught him staring at you. You grinned, “What?”

“Nothing, I’ve just never seen someone more beautiful before in my life.” He told you in a low voice, smirking at you. You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing you should’ve expected him to shower you with compliments.

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, “Je t’aime chéri.”

You both settled into bed, cuddled up next to each other. He kissed your temple, “Je t’aimerai toujours plus.”

#charles leclerc #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 fic #f1 #f1 imagine

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thankskenpenders · 1 year

Text

Amy's fortune cards

The Sonic fandom has long been the kind of fandom that takes minor details very seriously, for better or worse. On the one hand, this means fans will really dig for the diamonds in the rough, latching onto fun character interactions, animations, bits of background worldbuilding, and more in pieces of Sonic media that many would write off as "the bad ones." But it also feels like every week another needlessly hostile debate over Sonic minutia erupts on Twitter, whether it's over individual lines of dialogue, fanart that makes Tails' shoes blue, or the ideal length and volume for Sonic's quills.

So it was probably inevitable that a fandom-wide debate would erupt upon seeing Amy's new gameplay style in the DLC for Sonic Frontiers, which takes the once-obscure fact that she enjoys reading tarot and shines a spotlight on it like never before.

I mean:

The thing is, while I basically always try to tune out Sonic fandom bickering... for once, I kind of sympathize with the detractors? Don't get me wrong, I like Amy's tarot stuff, and people on all sides of the discussion are being overly nasty about their opinions, as usual. (Sonic Twitter remains my personal hell.) But when I set aside the hyperbole and zoom out, I do think I understand why some fans are put off by the sudden shift in focus for the character, even if I think it's cool.

It's complicated. Let me attempt to present the cases for and against Amy's fortune cards

For years, I was always one of those fans who thought it could be fun if they played with Amy's tarot reading, or even leaned into some kind of magic with her. Part of that is my own biases showing, but there's just something that makes sense there, especially when you look at Sonic, Tails, and Amy as a trio. (I would argue that's the real "Team Sonic" these days, especially in the comics where Knuckles is more likely to be stuck on Angel Island or otherwise doing his own thing.)

You could argue that Tails is all about logic, relying on science and technology and deductive reasoning to solve problems. But Amy is all about emotion. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely empathetic, and is very prone to magical thinking - both figuratively and sometimes literally. Her origin story has always been that her tarot cards told her it was her destiny to meet Sonic on Little Planet. She's claimed to be able to "sense" peoples' presences - particularly Sonic's. She's the type to believe that The Power of Love is a literal magical force. So, on some level, it makes sense to mirror Tails's science by having Sonic's other best friend believe in magic. And then Sonic is somewhere in the middle, primarily following his own gut instincts but taking advice from both of them as needed. This isn't totally accurate to how their dynamics actually function in canon stories, but I think it's a mode that could work for them.

Going off of that, it's fun to lean all the way into Amy being a magical girl, or even a witch, using her fortune telling as a foundation. Take, for example, this version of Amy from Diana Skelly's old Sonic cast redesigns from before she freelanced for Archie and IDW. This is one of MANY such redesigns for Amy.

Fast forward to the 2020s, and Amy's tarot cards are, in fact, finally getting brought up again in canon. Which is fun! I like seeing that. I like all of the individual stories involving Amy's fortune cards. This is a fun character trait for Amy, a fun nod to old lore, AND a fun storytelling device, all in one. It's really cool that the Sonic universe has its own thematically appropriate arcana, and that the cards are getting made as physical merch. And sure enough, the official card backs and borders were designed by none other than Diana Skelly, in yet another cool example of an ascendant fan leaving their mark on the series.

BUT... when you step back and look at the big picture, I get why some fans find this shift in focus jarring. At the moment, it's starting to feel like every new story about Amy involves her fortune cards to some degree.

The most recent mainline comic arc to feature Amy as the lead character, 2021's Trial by Fire arc, prominently features a sequence where she reads fortunes while camping with the girls. The Origins version of Sonic CD now bookends the game with scenes of Amy and her tarot cards. Sonic randomly mentioned it in a scene in Frontiers. And now, just this week, we got the (very cute, gorgeously illustrated) Amy's 30th Anniversary comic with a story revolving around Amy's tarot cards, followed the very next day by the Frontiers DLC in which she gets a brand new tarot-based moveset. Even her base melee attack now has her throwing tarot cards instead of swinging her hammer. Again, I like all of these individual things, but after years of it almost never coming up at all, it's VERY noticeable that Amy's tarot cards are suddenly everywhere.

To be fair, I'm looking at this from the perspective of a superfan who's actively following ALL Sonic media. Casual fans - especially kids - aren't necessarily going to be reading the comics every month, buying the thousandth rerelease of the Genesis games, or playing the ultra-hard new alternate ending DLC for a game that came out last year. Each of these stories is going to be someone's introduction to the idea that Amy can read tarot, and that's probably part of the idea behind this unified push.

But to play devil's advocate, for my fellow superfans, I understand why it feels like a very minor footnote of Amy's character is suddenly becoming the entire focus of her personality. While Amy has always been said to enjoy fortune telling, that wasn't really a character trait in and of itself, but rather an example of her being a typical girl who hopes she'll be able to find true love one day. It's less that Amy can literally predict the future and more like her using a cootie catcher or going "he loves me, he loves me not" while picking the petals off of a flower. So I get not vibing with this stuff, or feeling like it's being pushed very hard out of nowhere.

What I don't agree with are comparisons like "it's like if they made Knuckles' moveset revolve around him liking grapes." Like, I get it. Ian Flynn loves shoehorning in his little winking references for us nerds, and mentions of Amy's tarot cards were previously on the same level as other random bullet points from old Japanese manuals. But a multifaceted hobby like fortune telling that opens up so many narrative and aesthetic possibilities is obviously very different from having a favorite food. It's ALWAYS been a part of her story, not just a random fact, and there's no reason why the fortune telling can't be elevated to something more.

And, hell, even if it wasn't an established character trait, there's nothing inherently wrong with injecting new ideas into a character. One of the best Amy stories in recent years, the Free Comic Book Day special "Amy's New Hobby" written by Gale Galligan, came up with the idea that Amy's secretly been drawing little comics about her and her friends. Is this based on Lore? No. But it's cute, and helps tell the story of a younger Amy who's still coming out of her shell as both a hero and a friend.

Certain fans are also looking at Amy's Frontiers moveset and using it as evidence that once again the Vile American Contributors like Ian are CORRUPTING Sonic Team's perfect vision of Sonic with their misinterpretations. And like. Come on. Ian does not control the gameplay. He's a freelance writer. The tarot stuff is clearly something that Sonic Team likes if they made it the basis of Amy's new moveset - and, you know, if they keep approving comics and animations about Amy's fortune telling. None of this gets made without their blessing, and lord knows how much they can micromanage shit and shoot down ideas over the most minor of details.

Like, yeah, Amy's fortune telling was probably conceived less as a sign that she Knows Magic and more as a pretty mundane hobby for a lovesick young Japanese girl to have. But you're gonna sit there and tell me that using Amy's tarot cards for more than that could only be the result of a cultural misunderstanding? That nobody in Japan uses tarot card theming and aesthetics (or the general idea of magical cards) for the cool factor? Stardust Crusaders? Persona? The Astrologian class in FFXIV? Cardcaptor Sakura?? Hello??? Do you think Capcom put Gambit in Marvel vs. Capcom ironically because they thought using magic to throw cards at people was stupid? There's tons of precedent for this! It's nothing like Knuckles throwing grapes at people, be for real.

Giving Amy a very magical girl-esque moveset also just makes a lot of sense. For decades her hammer attacks have literally made sparkly heart shapes appear around her. Leaning into both that and her tarot cards in her new moveset makes a lot of sense to me.

But, admittedly... I do think it's very odd that her hammer is treated as a secondary element here, rather than having her primarily use her hammer and adding the cards for extra flair. If hitting the attack button made her swing her hammer instead of throwing cards, I'm not sure we'd even be having this discussion right now.

But the tarot-cycle and Amy riding her hammer like a witch's broom are fucking SICK and I will not concede on this point

The thing is, this whole fortune card discourse is but a small piece of a bigger problem. Amy's been a character who needed some work for ages, but there's basically nothing you can do with her without pissing SOMEONE off.

Years of stories where Amy's crush was her primary motivator and Sonic went "Ew, cooties!" have lead many casual fans to believe that being Sonic's obsessive fangirl is Amy's entire personality. At best people might call her Sonic's Minnie Mouse. This isn't just a matter of Amy having haters within the fandom - venture outside of that bubble and you'll realize that this is how MOST video game playing people seem to see her to this day. I don't feel like this is a fair assessment of the character, but this idea didn't come from nowhere. No matter how much good deeply entrenched Sonic fans may see in their old dynamic where Amy perpetually chases Sonic, this is a very real problem that Sonic Team has to contend with for their leading girl. Of course all those games where the way-past-cool protagonist thought Amy was annoyingly clingy and tried to get away from her made people think less of her.

If new stories were to go back to emphasizing Amy's crush on Sonic a little more, they'd probably be taken as confirmation that Amy's just the girl with a crush on Sonic and that this is her entire personality. Conversely, when the crush is played down, you piss off the hardcore SonAmy fans who don't seem to understand that they're Charlie Brown and Sega is Lucy holding the football. You can't win.

And so here we are. In the absence of what was once her defining trait, now reduced to an occasional blush or wink in Sonic's direction, new stories are trying to mine Amy's past for additional material to work with. Having been a thing fans wanted to see for years, right now we're getting a lot of tarot, but we're also getting reminders of her compassionate nature and her desire to go out of her way to help the little guy. This is an ongoing process. I continue to hope that her bubbly, exuberant demeanor can shine more in future stories. Now, I also hope that the tarot stuff gets balanced out a little better with other traits of hers. But I don't want it to go away. I think it's fun.

This course correcting is far from exclusive to Amy. Knuckles is getting stories that remind us that he's a competent fighter, an experienced treasure hunter, and even a self-taught archaeologist after years of him being perceived as either the dumb one or just the guy who stands in front of the Master Emerald all day. And Tails has been getting some stories reminding folks that he's a capable hero in his own right and not just Sonic's timid kid sidekick.

But no supporting character will ever compete with the sheer number of new ideas Sega has tried with Sonic himself. Like Amy, his Frontiers moveset has also given him half a dozen new superpowers that he never had before, from the Cyloop to air-slicing projectile attacks to his own take on Shadow Clone Jutsu and beyond. He's also been a hoverboarder, a swordsman, a time traveler, an Olympic athlete, a racecar driver, cursed with a Flame of Judgment, imbued with alien power, a fucking Werehog with stretchy powers, and on and on and on.

If Sonic can do all that, Amy can try out using a tarot-cycle.

Anyway TL;DR the REAL problem with Amy's current characterization... is where the FUCK is Amy's bestie, Honey the Cat???????

#tkp post

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team7-headquarter · 9 months

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*open the gifs for better quality <3

Kakashi spins SO MUCH compared to Obito in their fights, but as someone who trained martial arts for many years, I get it, you know?

First of all, Kakashi loves his kicks. It puts some distance between you and your target, you can protect the upper half of your body by leaning back, a well thrown kick can send your adversary flying or staggering back, etc.

The cool part is that Kakashi uses a lot of back spinning kicks. They have more strength behind them because you use your entire body and the energy the movement creates. If you dominate the techniques and you've trained your balance so you won't get dizzy, it's almost expected to use kicking combos.

I'll try to explain?? It's a bit hard, but I want it to be easy to understand for someone who doesn't know how the kicking dynamic works.

Okay, so—

There are different parts of the foot you can use to cause different types of damage. It depends on how you're standing and from which direction you're kicking. So imagine you stand with your body facing a side and while you look ahead. Your right foot is behind and you want to kick with that one— you retract your right knee, you bring your right leg up and closer to your body, all the while your left foot starts to shift its position to look back. At the same time you extend your right leg, your left foot shifts. The movement is explosive and your body is now facing the opposite side.

You are already half spinning!

If you don't land the hit, you can always set your right foot down and keep the flow of your body to back kick with the heel or arch of your left foot. If that one kick doesn't hit, you can set your left foot down and... Kick again with your right! Now you're facing ahead again!

The best (like Kakashi) can spin without setting a foot down, basically using the movement to keep them afloat.

I'm making it all so way more simple than it is and the combinations can vary pretty drastically, but as I was saying, Kakashi is a practical fighter and he loves to use every single thing available while he fights.

The reason why he fights so elegantly is because, like in a dance, he uses the flow to move, to guide the fight, to shift the position of his own body and the position of his weapons. In comparison, Obito learned to use more of the movement and weight to counter Kakashi's fluidity.

(I ended up making a bunch of gifs for this post, oops! Better keep going!)

Anyway, I bet I don't have to mention how much Kakashi spins his weapons. There are at least six different occasions during this particular fight with Obito. He loves to spin kunais to change his grip, to exchange hands, he even sent one flying high so he got both hands free to defend himself from Obito and then proceeded to kick it midair to with his heel, so it cut Obito in the cheek.

He's practical, so every spin has a meaning. Back at his fight with Zabuza, Kakashi even used the spin with his summoning scroll to intimidate... I think (I can't remember clearly).

You can rewatch almost any Kakashi fight in the anime and compare it to this post. You'll see that he is the spinning king for a reason.

#this man is dying to play the drums in a band #fidgety genius #naruto #naruto shippuden #kakashi hatake #naruto classic #obito uchiha #long posts

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absolutebl · 11 days

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This Week in BL - Weird Strange Warmth, Thailand

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 1 of 12 - Oh it’s fucking great. What a fantastic start! It’s a fun cast too. I adore seeing all of the familiar faces. This is a lot more fun than Kidnap (sorry GMMTV, do better). I mean both shows are serving the same kind of concept but with completely different energy. I love that War is playing phi in this series. I think it suits him much better. In fact. I really like these rolls for this pair. I think they’re gonna knock it outta the park. I am so happy this is good. I wanted it to be good. And it’s good!

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 8 of 12 - Oh no! He read the journal. No snooping! Well I guess they needed to get some tension for these 2 from somewhere, otherwise they are too good to each other. Meanwhile, I’m not sure about the sides in this particular series. I don’t hate them. The laundry jealousy moment was pretty well done. But I'm not sold, either.

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 5 of 10 - I forgot that we were already on the ICONIC kidnapping section of the narrative. I miss Gu Hai's OBEY sweatshirt from the original. (Someday I will own that sweatshirt.) Hero should at least be wearing an OBEY T-shirt. Frankly I miss the harshness of the original too. Johnny Huang was just so massive, August doesn't have the physicality to carry this scene off. Nor does Thailand have the guts to push it into the creepy obsessive territory that made the first version so thrilling to watch.

The thing about the original kidnapping bit was we could feel Gu Hai's vibrating need to possess overriding everything else (including his sense of humor and frustration with himself). Gu Hai KNOWS kidnapping was an over reaction, he KNOWS he is being absurd, he just doesn't care. Because he doesn't just want to fuck Bai Luo Yin he wants to consume him.

We didn't get any of that from Hero. Hero, as a character, just isn't edgy enough to carry off a kidnapping, he's been softened too much in this new Thai form.

And then... An around the back of head not-kiss? Interesting choice. (Checks to see if BoomPeak are hanging out nearby.) Is that because the actor is under age? We in that head space for this whole show? (Pun intended.) Not sure how I feel about any of it.

It’s a much milder confession this time around, because it’s Thailand, but it’s still warped. So I’m still here for the weird strange warmth of this damn show. I did laugh a lot during this episode.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - Oh I am very much enjoying this.

"You’re the worst kidnapper I ever ever met" is an apt accusation.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 7 of 12 - I kinda enjoyed the little side romance story (wealthy writer intellectual + poor local salt-of-the-earth boy = Love Seaing all over my damn screen). It came outta nowhere but... okay.

I honestly have no idea what’s going on with this show. But the kisses are nice. And I pretty much like all of the couples. It’s wild how disjointed it is but simultaneously how pretty. It’s like Star Hunter got hold of Mame’s budget and aesthetic.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 12 - Boyfriend era to the max. Production is still ignoring the whole "dreaming the future" POINT OF THIS SHOW.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 11 of 12 - Jane is VERY COOL. Like tay-style cool… as it were. I like their dynamic when they're given one to play with. It’s the rest of this show I don’t enjoy.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 2 of 5 - It cute. Bit odd but cute. I like the language play, of course. It’s an interesting pair to watch flirt because it’s all language play so that's fun but otherwise, I'm not convinced.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 7-8 of 12 - This BL doesn’t drink from the water bottle to show off its neck. It quietly hands you the water bottle and expects you to understand that is not an act of generosity but of polite distancing. It's about the delicacy of the messaging, and the way themes are conveyed with such nuance.

This story is entirely about the two of them figuring out about each other, and then trying to be what the other person needs based on that information. It means they (and therefore we) are on this journey of discovering affection together. It's brilliant.

I must talk about the physical acting of these two for a second. That scene where they’re fighting over the book and then fall into the pool. That was one take. That’s amazing. These two are really fucking stellar not only at acting but hitting their marks. And let's be clear, that is NOT the same thing. I bet they both have stage training.

Define irony: watching two abandoned kids counsel their respective parents through abandonment issues.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 6 of 10 - It is stupid cute and utterly charming. They are total boyfriends. It’s just that one of them wants to be and one of them assumes they already are. Actually, nevermind boyfriends, they’re married.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 12fin - It made me whimper a lot because they’re both hurting so much. But in the end it was... fine.

Summation

The compassionate story of a college kid going deaf and the one boy he can hear. I love this manga and was let down by the first adaptation (Silhouette of Your Voice), so I was expecting a lot from this BL. I expected the soundscapes in this one to be fantastic, and the were, but I didn’t expect the filming to be something special too. But it really is. The acting is great too. But the story? It was just fine. They spent far too much time on the build to a relationship, then wallowed in their separation and a problematic girl character, when they should have been showcasing Taichi's character arc and his capacity for connection. Perhaps Japan should pass this one off to Thailand, It's a soft story centering on "food as love" so they might do better with it. I am, yet again, disappointed. 8/10 but I want to give it a 7/10

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 9-10 of 12 - It’s fine. it’s cute. I enjoyed getting some backstory. More of the sides, please.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 7 - Honestly, why don’t they just call this entire series The Cheating Diaries and have done with it? I’m only watching it because there’s basically nothing else from Korea right now. But I’m generally mad about it. Including the fact that everybody is so pretty and the acting is so good in the series, but the stories are so terrible.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL and it's exactly as expected. I do not like it at all. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. DNF

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever (Korea iQIYI & Viki) 6 eps - Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, HoTae & DongHee, return for a spin off backstory show.

It started out fantastic. And it was a relief to have a good Korean BL finally back on my screen, even a high angst one. But I did spend a lot of time trying trying to figure out whether they’re going to rehash or reboot from the previous series. Are we in Between Us territory or Don't Say No or (heaven forbid) To My Star 2?

None of the above, it turns out.

This was a pure prequel about lost first love. As such, it has no real finale beyond what we got in ULS. Which, for this pair, wasn't satisfying. Putting my disappointment over this aspect aside, it is enjoyable on the strength of the characters, actors, and chemistry (if not story). Yes I said chemistry, the kissing is fantastic, sometimes KBL can do that. This one featured the "teach me to kiss trope"!!!! Plus language play. Both favorites of mine. It is all angst, ache, repression, and miles of subtext. It did fudge the ending by not skipping forward and over the events in ULS to depict what happened next (what, no year long time jump when we actually need it, Korea?) It's a worthy companion piece, but should be watched BEFORE ULS for maximum satisfaction, and even then you're going to be left feeling like HoTae & DongHee's relationship was never adequately discussed or depicted in order to achieve resolution.

The little cameo of my baby in ep 5 was much appreciated. But the motorcycle should’ve been set up a little bit more. Of course I wanted it to be about them getting together after the events in the first series. But this was all backstory from start to finish. And while it was good backstory, it wasn’t ultimately satisfying for these characters. Still it’s a good little series. 8/10

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. It's just taking me some time. This isn't really a bingable show, not for me anyway. It's A LOT to take all at once. No new one this week.

4 Minutes (Gaga) Ended - Spies reported in to say the ending was not-exactly-unhappy and mostly lackluster. I'm torn over whether to watch. My natural disinclination to binge, meets my dissatisfaction with wishy-washy, is going up against my love for fabulous high heat and pretty pretty men.

Mitsuya-sensei no keimakutekina ezuke finished and it’s reported to be solid. Age gap treated with respect. I'm curious, so I'll check it out. Not doing very well on binging and catching up but it's on the docket...

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming Sept 2024:

9/15 Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) 15 eps - Remake of the original. I'm scared too.

9/15 Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - Assistant to a player boss who is in love with that boss decides to quit to save himself. The boss then makes a move. (A gay What's up with Secretary Kim?)

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 eps - Lawyer and a con artist meet at a bar, pair up, fall in love.

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Love a teach me to kiss, teach me to fuck, whatever moment. (I Saw You In My Dreams sides)

Not gonna lie. I laughed. Addicted.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

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pico-farad · 3 months

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I finished season 1 of Vrains and it was cool but I thought it needed about 2 billion more secret identity shenanigans

extended thoughts below

So I went into a deep dive in my last two posts (1, 2) about all the problems I had with Vrains, and you'd think I didn't enjoy it, but in fact as I was watching, there was a separate, parallel version of Vrains that was playing in my head, a Yugioh I think we were robbed of and which fixes every problem I had with the first season, and that is Secret Identities AU.

Yusaku needs FRIENDS

This is YUGIOH.

This dynamic is everything I wanted from Vrains. Yusaku developing unexpected fondness for these bozos who think he needs a defense squad. I want Miraculous Ladybug levels of secret identity shenanigans. I want Yusaku slapping his duel disk every time Ai tries to blow their cover.

This AU sprung forth from the scene in the duel club where he shows Naoki his decoy deck. Having Yusaku passing as a bad duelist is 1) so funny, but 2) Yusaku needing to maintain his low profile is a useful contrivance for other characters to get more duels, and 3) I think it would be a really fun one-off episode where Yusaku has to duel using his bad deck. When he wins, Naoki is so proud he cries.

Having Yusaku actually have to interact with the other characters in the real world opens up Greek play levels of dramatic irony. The crux of a secret identity story is that every single interaction builds up anticipation, because you the viewer know that the other party is being deceived, and that the tension will snap when the secret is revealed.

I have zero anticipation about Playmaker's identity being revealed, because Aoi would be like "oh.... I guess he goes to my school" and Go would be like "have I seen that guy before?" But SIAU Playmaker? My guy is making friends just so he can betray them. Insane.

Go needs A ROLE IN THE STORY.

I said in my first post that Go isn't a rival or a best friend character. SIAU fixes this by making him both simultaneously.

Having him be the ace of the duel club is a natural replacement for his whole hero of the orphans schtick, while placing him directly the circle of relevance with the other characters. Instead of being disgruntled that the orphans suddenly like Playmaker more than him, he's disgruntled that Naoki and the duel club mooks are fawning over Playmaker -- which is actually just Naoki's character anyway.

I would kill for a big dramatic moment where Go learns that Playmaker and Yusaku are the same person, and even though Go feels betrayed that Yusaku has been deceiving him, he stands by Yusaku anyway because they're friends.

With a secret identity story, every conversation is working on multiple levels because each character is working with asymmetric information. You get these fascinating, layered scenes of two characters talking past each other because they cannot give up their secret.

Which would go especially hard with Go and Yusaku, because Go has legitimate criticisms of Playmaker in canon and Yusaku has legitimate reasoning behind the things he does, and as Go Onizuka and Playmaker they could never come to an understanding on them, but as Go and Yusaku, two friends in duel club, that door becomes open to them.

Aoi needs WRITING THAT ISN'T A TRAINWRECK

I made a whole post on this. Basically every problem would be solved if Akira doesn't know that she's Blue Angel. There's no reason for her to lose grotesquely against Yusaku, or have her basic autonomy called into question constantly.

Having her actively deceive her brother is delicious. Like I said in my last post, it's so obvious how Akira's overprotectiveness has taken its toll on Aoi, and pushed her into developing this other persona, Blue Angel. I want this absolutely dysfunctional sibling relationship so badly. The Blue Angel vs. Zaizen duel would make me lose my mind.

And a secret identities setting works so well with the potential themes of VRAINS as a stand-in for the internet and Blue Angel as an idol. Give me that Perfect Blue Satoshi Kon good stuff. Give me those themes about identity, and the different lives we live, outward and inward, online and offline.

This also helps Akira's character, because I think he would be much more interesting and relevantly positioned in the story if he stayed a SOL Technologies baddie. SOL Technologies has very little presence in season 1 despite being critical to the story. After Zaizen is replaced by an irrelevant clown, they don't do anything but send out mook AIs to get destroyed. By having a three-way standoff between Yusaku's squad, the Knights of Hanoi, and SOL Technologies, both Hanoi and SOL Technologies become more compelling. They've both got all the reason in the world to want to take down the other. Zaizen vs. Revolver or Spectre? That's good shit.

And don't get me started on how I would turn Revolver into a Secret Identities character.

#anyway hire me konami #I didn't even get into how I would involve kusanagi and ghost girl #yugioh vrains #yusaku fujiki #aoi zaizen #go onizuka #akira zaizen #naoki shima #ai vrains #ygo #pico art #pico commentary

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cal-writes · 1 month

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I thought about Zoro, again. And how he stays calm when all other mugivaras are in disarray. How he has to be the last pilar standing, because if not him than noone. And how some people deam him emotionless and uncaring because of that, because he keeps his cool and talk logic in hard situations. (Like whan they had to leave Vivi behind, or all this mess in inies loby). And I thought how I want someone to see it, and hug him and let him be vulnerable for a bit.

I dunno if I mean it like a prompt, or just want to cry with someone over Zoro. Maybe both. Anyway I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter in any format :')

god yes i knooooow. going insane over him tbh. like i went into this in my previous meta post about him, esp in enis lobby/water seven arc where he is so clearly affected by everything going on but can't show it. (or feels like he cant)

this reminded me of a thing i havent seen many people talk about, which is that zoro is very often 100% spot on with his predictions, gets ignored, and eats shit for it.

like zoro isnt stupid (despite what some characters and parts of the fandom think) hes incredibly perceptive and his cold read on most people will be accurate. theres several moments where he will predice something happening, rationally explains it to the crew how the best course of action is one thing and then luffy being stubborn and the protagonis does what he wants

not to say that thats a bad thing! i think its awesome to show their dynamic

like back on zou when they find out sanji left to marry big moms daughter and everyone wants to go and get him back

zoro is harsh in his wording bc he always is but the core of the matter is this: if they go mess with big mom, while they are already anatagonizing kaido, they'll end up having to deal with two emperors. he understands that sanji knew that which is why sanji left the way he did (partially).

and we all know how that ended

not only that i think this fight is a fantastic display of zoro's core character trait. unlike the three captains in this fight, he doesnt have an ego about it. he's not posturing or peacocking, he knows immediately shits gonna go down (killer too probably but with the mask its harder to tell what killer is thinking) and he's the one person that keeps an overview of the battlefield that includes everyone. law eventually does once he gets over his control issues

and of course thats not the end of it in wano

"ill suffer twice as much after" and he doesnt care, beats king, nearly dies or maybe does die and nobody knows about that whole thing

then of course in more recent chapters (spoilers for egghead below)

we have his fight against lucci which i find striking in how the other characters perceive it

like jimbei can be excused, he doesnt know zoro all that long but the crew acts like this is a point of pride to zoro, to finish the fight. when we've seen zoro run away from fights plenty of times. and to me what he doesnt get to say is exaclty what ends up happening

if lucci isnt taken out, he will tell the elders about the plans he was privy to in eggheads lab. which of course he does when zoro is dragged away

if the vegapunk hadn't stepped in

zoro would have fought the elder and most likely lost

same way he knew he'd not be able to win against kuma

he's telling everyone to stay out of it because he wants to protect them. its not an ego thing for him. he knows the second he stepped up to that fight hes probably going to lose. he's going to do his best to win but he's not delusional

and i find it noteworthy that we are continuing this plot line of the crew not understanding zoro or not trusting him and not to mention this

lucci telling zoro he's dead weight

and a little bit later, sanji telling him the same thing

like, thats not their usual banter. this doesnt make zoro angry to like be able to fight off lucci better or sth. the panel of him standing there just, flinching honestly haunts me. (i eat it up oda please do somehting with it)

esp curious paired with my above example where i think zoro understands sanji quite well where i dont think sanji does in return. (another reason why i cant see them romantically im sorry itd require so much legwork for me to make that work)

i think it can definitely be read as a setup of zoro feeling apart from the crew. i think part of that is just due to the nature of his position as first mate in everything but name. like in a literal sense he is their superior the same way luffy is all of theirs. and we know from the usopp argument that he takes that a lot more seriously than the others. so i dont think - at this point in canon - zoro would open up to anyone except maybe luffy but even then thats not really the kind of relationship they have - and i dont think any of them actually see whats going on or what zoro has been doing basically the entire time.

zoro hasn't been vulnerable since his fight with mihawk

#anon #ask #zoro #op #meta #long post #reply

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drawlody · 5 months

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My list of Adam ships♡ n my opinion bout them (also fics rec :D)

Adam x Luicfer (Adamsapple/Duitarduck) 10/10

Need i say more:)))??!?! started out as a "haha funny slip-up ship" to "hey they got really good angst potential". The friends/lovers to enemies to lovers is STRONG with this one n i am eating up everything i could found on ao3. Smth bout this macho-ass man finally getting to stay back n not take charge for once feel nice, also princess Adam supermacy wooooo. Whoever came up with the ship name i applaud u cause that's like a 3 layers name(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

It's not an Adamsapple fic without Adam having at least 1 mental breakdown n Lucifer have his guilt eating him alive:)))

Very fucked up torture but i swear it worth the pain:D The dove is so dead it start to rot so plz read the tags properly (plz check out the AngeliaDark other works too they got good shit)

This one have a splits so check out both the fics (beware the author have a skrewed sense of what is considered wholesome:))))

I didnt think a smut scene could be this sad

Adam x Lute (Guitarspear/Guardrock) 10/10

Litteraly my first Hazbin ship, assholes in love is an underrated dynamic we desperately need more off:))) That with a dash of evil dude x loyal subordinate (which i havent seen since the Deathglare days) n opposite attract (look they have one main thing in common is that their extreme bloodthirst, other than that she's stricter than ur mom n he's lazier than the Sloth ring itself but that the beauty of it no? He convince her to chill tf out n not to burst a blood vessel, she keep him on track n make sure Sera dont come on their asses)

They're just being silly enabling each other terrible behaviour n i love that for them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Litteral besties i tell ya

Heavy non-con shit involving Val but Lute will revenge our boi i promised u that

Cool idea n they r just made for each other damn

First hazbin fic i read which is a really cool smut:D

Adam x Micheal (we need a ship name people ) (update: it's Songbird/Guitarhero) 10/10

I like how we dont even got a proper comfirmation of Micheal design/personality yet the ship is here already ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ( im using the Nakariiale's design as a base here love their design)

Hit me with that rebound love x "u look like my ex so im using u as a replacement but ill fall for the real u eventually" x co-workers in heaven. I'm thinking smth along the line of "after Lucifer fucked off with Lilith, Micheal became Adam guardian angel n they just hang out" ya feel me here? (✿◕‿◕✿)

Shout out to Bloog_b for dragging me into this ship:DDD also im on the Adam x the archangels ship as a "gotcha" to Lucifer of sort. Like bitch u stole my wives imma steal your brotherS

Look it's Adamsapple endgame but trust me u will be feed well on this ( u know how good u gotta be for people to ditch the main ship?)

I'm giving yall 4 fics here cause i can only found 4 rn(._. )

this one is uhh non-con so beware

Micheal is indeed Adam guardian angel in this one:D

Adam x Eve (Flowertunes) 8/10

I dont care what yall said they love each other throughout Eden n Earth , might have a falling out in heaven but that doesnt change the fact that they were once IN LOVE. Honestly why cant we just have a couple that have the same bright-eyed innocence like one another.I refuse to believe Eve like willingly cheat on Adam with malicious intent n all, simply she was indeed ''tricked'' or just not fully understand the sistuation, n Adam love her way too much to think that she would do that to him like Lilith. Hell the dude was heartbroken after L left , starting the abandonment issues, so he would have cling to Eve, doing everything so that he aint alone again, even if that mean leaving Eden

Honestly it pisses me off that the Adam/Eve tag on ao3 most of the time is just 1 dialouge between them back when Eve bit the apple n thats it no elaboration on the couple whatsoever >:(((

Lots of switcharoos

sinner eve woooo

look its hard trynna find a fic focusing on them ok?

Adam x St. Peter (Guitargreeter (bet ya didnt see that coming:))) 7/10

Base on this fanfic alone Joe my dude u r on the path of becoming THE Adam crack-ship writer n i am here for this:)))) just so u wait this dude gonna whip out a AdamxNifty , AdamxHusk fic later on ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

From within the fic itself the ship its 2 bros in love with homophobia standing in the way >:( also when did we have a name?!?!?!?

I just like Adam x anyone in heaven alright:D like bro famous n he got that ancient rizz, u telling mr he cant bag a hottie or 2-100+ hmm?

Adam x Alastor (Angelicradio) 8/10

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT ABOUT THEM THAT I SHIP I JUST DO φ(゜▽゜*)♪ i blame YOU honestly rn this ship is either Adam found Al after the fight n they make a deal or they're in heaven n they chillin this ship is confusing:D

They're angels on heaven

Adam gone back into eden n do shit differently

This is both Adam/Eve n Adam/Alastor kinda

Adam x Alastor x Lucifer (Angelicradioapple/ Charlie's dads (only me call them that lol)) 9/10

''Hey Charlie u know how u r sad that your mother left? Wellllllll i got you 2 new dads suprise:DDDD''

Look 3 miserable men who hate each other + hell's greatest dad + my love for Dadam = Messy ass old men yaoi :DDDD n it work perfectly with Alastor Asexuality too!!! Like Adam n Lucifer could fuck each other brains out before Al joining in for the cuddles lol

Chaos ensue

Not exactly a love triangle but a love corner but hey we barely got food here :D

I cant believe how hot this shit is lol

Adam x Eve x Lilith x Lucifer (Eden poly/ applecore?) 8/10

They could have been all married to each other(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ But as much as i go "OooOooo Poly yay'' i just cant vibe with EvexLucifer, like the cheating vibes is wayyyyyyyyy too much i just cant man . I mean with the interpetation that Lucifer came to Eden to hang out with the humans they all know eachother, they're a throuple yes but BUT when Eve came into the picture it was only with Adam n him only so the other 2 is ehhhh. Im fine with EvexLilith cause im seeing it happening later, not hidden from Adam while LuciferxEve got that deception going on .So uhhh in this ship they're more like bestie than lovers to me¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also AdamxLilith is an underrated pairing like everytime i saw this applecore thing going on these 2 r at most tolerate each other like cmonnnnn we already twist this to hell n back, why cant we make it so their arguement was a petty non-malicious one n they still cares for each other hmm???

They're one happy family

IDK what to tell u bittersweet reunion n loving family is the only typa fic u get with this ship

Not that im complaining i need this wholesomeness

Adam x Mammon (Adammon/Madam/Greedyguitar/ 1st chirstmas.... hasnt had an offical name yet) 10/10

They r litteraly same person different font idk what to tell u. More insults thrown around than Guitarspear but they're pretty similar. Adam is just " sinners suck ass but this dude is the worst in the best way". Also they're both big bois (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ , they love towering over others

I'm sorry but there r barely BARELY

any fics of them :(

The art side is more plentiful tho :D

Adam x Angel Dust (Holydust/guitardust) 5/10

THEY ARE BESTIES YOUR HONOUR n that the exact reason why i cant see them be together as a couple 100%, like the shit-talking bff vibes r wayyyy too strong XD Angel finally got someone who have the same vulgar humour as him n if Adam got married in hell Angel would 100% be his best bitch of honour (≧∀≦)ゞq(≧▽≦q)

They're best friends who have casual no-string attached sex that is ACTUALLY no-string attached:)))

I came to ship them due to those "What if they're co-workers under Val' scenarios ive been seeing on Tumblr

I got like 1 fic on ao3 i mean if u r looking for just platonic friendship between them then rest asure most Adam's redemption fics have that

I got 1 fic on tumblr

Adam x Charlie (Charadam/Guitarprincess) 5/10

U know this ship give me a pretty bad first impression since a good chunk of the fics r either heavy non-con shit or lean wayyyyy to much into the daddy kink, ya know how Charlie got suppose daddy issues n all that jazz?:))) yeah that... that

But after seeing the art side of this ship im chillin with them now, since the art r pretty wholesome, usually having them decked out in punk-rock clothings hanging out. It's a big "Fuck you" to Lucifer n i live for these mf argueing ╰(*°▽°*)╯

So uhhh stay away from the fics if ya want an actual functional couple instead of wtv messed up shit we got there:))) But here's a fic anyway, the only one where it feel bearable n actual trynna go into said messed up relationship i already warn you

We got cracks like Guitarmaid (AdamxNifty), Valadam (AdamxVal) which i dont have enough materials to decied, Classicalrock (AdamxSera) sound interesting but also havent found anything , Guitarhalo (AdamxEmily) is an unexpected find, find i deem them to be more familial than romantic so we'll see if there's a fic good enough to convince me

Edit:i forgot to add Blitzo like Mammon already there why did i forgot

Adam x Blitzo (i dont think anyone even ship this but me:)) 7/10

I cant find a single fic where they has anything more than a 1 nightstand n 1 interaction where they hit it off , i live off imagination alone (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) but like fr fr they would match so well, like their bloodlust n general jerkiness would make them the 3rd asshole x asshole ship on this list :DDDD

Tho as much as i wanna see them go further i feel like an on-n-off relationship/friends with benefits fit em more ya know ( *^-^)ρ(*╯^╰) If ya have any fic but the 2 here that have them interact lemme know cause a bitch need food :)

This is a lot of tag(._. )

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just-some-random-blogger · 3 months

Text

Brat Hours

You dramatically react to an issue involving your friends and so Billionaire Entrepreneur, Lanniscorp CEO Tywin Lannister takes your phone, makes you an offer that makes you panic, then fucks your panic away.

Modern!Tywin Lannister x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, crack fic kinda, implied sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamic, age difference, pwp tbh, smut (bdsm, brat/brat tamer, daddy kink, degradation kink, bondage [belt], teasing, edging, fingering, piv, mild spit kink, dumbification kinda, breeding kink, cockwarming, biting, marking), fluff, etc.

A/N: im so down bad for this old man that the plot ends at 1k 😀 cross posted on ao3. Please consider donating €5 to Rital's GoFundMe, so that she and her family can evacuate Gaza.

Tagging: @ceoofyearning sabi mo tag kita wag mo ko block

Tywin Lannister lifts his gaze from his computer screen, eyes narrowing at the sight across the room. His desk is positioned in front of a window that looked out to the large expanse of the Casterly Rock estate. Directly in front of him, laid upon his massive bed, there, I sprawled, squealing into a pillow, wallowing in the velvety sheets.

He leans back into his leather office chair, stretching out an arm. He rests his palm on his oak desk, "will I be hounded for concert tickets to some smelly half-wit vocalist's concert again?"

His stubbly jaw clenches as he awaits a reply. He gets none.

I throw my phone onto the pillows and stand. I start pacing around the bed.

Tywin calls my name.

It does not register. I jump back into the sheets and continue to scroll on my phone. After I yelp and sit up, I flinch when he calls my name sternly.

Tywin shakes his head and sighs. He raises a hand and beckons me over with two fingers.

I chew my lower lip and rub my thighs. My skin is cool to the touch, as I only had booty shorts and an old band tee of The White Walkers on. Tywin hated it.

I sluggishly walk over to him, dread lumping in my stomach as I take in the old man's expression. "I didn't do anything wrong," I pipe up.

Tywin turns his chair to the side, anticipating my arrival. He spreads his legs, giving me perfect view of his well-ironed, grey dress pants. He opens his arms out for me, and I gratefully take my seat on his lap, my bum on one thigh and my legs in the middle of his. He links his hands together, resting them on my hip bone, "then who would cause a troublemaker so much trouble?"

I drop my head and peer up at him through my lashes, unable to fully meet his gaze knowing what I would have to say to him.

I nestle my face into his neck. One hand sneaks its way around his back, the other fondles with his white dress shirt. I undo two buttons as I take in his rich, earthy scent.

Immediately, he understands what is happening, "speak, girl, even if it's petty."

"But it's hella petty."

Tywin sighs and tries to look at my face. He cannot, so he instead turns his chair back to his computer and pulls us closer to his desk, "I cannot help you if you do not tell me what ails you."

I scowl when his hands leave me to go back to typing on his keyboard. I pull away from the comfort of his shoulder to show him my displeasure.

He ignores me.

My pout exaggerates, "nooooooo."

"No?" he spares me a raised eyebrow, "so you want my attention?"

I furrow my brows and cross my arms, "no."

"Funny," he looks back at his computer, "I was certain you'd sooner perish than be rid of it."

I sound off, offended and annoyed.

He clicks on his mouse, then scrolls through his emails.

I shoot him a nasty look.

He mumbles whilst reading the text on his computer screen, momentarily making a face because of whatever he reads.

My annoyance festers.

He begins to type his response.

I grumble, "Tywin."

He continues typing.

"Tywin," I groan and whine, "I want your attention."

He leans back on his chair again, hands coming down to his armrest. We stare at each other for a moment, I knew, because he was waiting for me to take it down a notch. He tilts head, "sit properly then, girl."

I make an annoyed sound, tightening my lips.

Tywin acknowledges the challenge and simply squashes it, "will you really make me repeat myself?"

I scoff, "I don't even like sitting on your lap."

He chuckles, deep and gutteral, annoyed and amused at once. It makes my stomach do flips. He motions with his pointer, "then get off."

I growl and straddle his lap, sitting on him 'properly'. I wrap my arms around him and nuzzle back into his neck, "stop telling my what to fucking do."

He nostrils flare. His thorax emits a low hum. He scratches his nails on my back then digs one hand into the roots of my hair. He tugs my head back, forcing me to turn to him, "watch your mouth, else I'll put it to good use-"

"Try me-"

"-I'll make you record the Lannister jingle for me."

My eye twitches. I pull away and sit up straight.

His expression shifts, knowing how much I fucking loathe his company's stupid-ass jingle. My lips curl in disgust, "yuck, the fu-- the... heck."

Tywin's lips curl slightly upward. His one hand rests on the curve of my bum, the other rests on my cheek. He swipes my lips with his thumb then brings that hand opposite the other, "filthy girl."

I scowl again.

He leans on his headrest and shakes his head, "will you speak, or shall I return to Mr. Baelish and his Vale proposal?"

My brows relax at the mention, "he's proposing something in the Vale?"

"Mmm. Undoubtedly a plot to get a promotion," he says, swiveling to reach out for his keyboard.

I swat his hand and place it back in my side.

Tywin looks back at me.

I growl and brush my hair back in annoyance. With a deep sigh, I cross my arms, looking down at my lap. I feel him looking at me, so I toy with his belt to distract myself from his scorching gaze.

He does not appreciate it, "behave."

"I ammmm."

He does not respond.

I sigh again and finally look up at him, "you know that show I watch?"

He places his hands on my thighs, his large, warm palm heats up the area, "the ghastly one about looney blondes?"

"Mmm."

"Yes. Are they finally cancelling it?"

I turn to his chest and trace the opening of his shirt with my fingers, "opposite actually. They renewed it and my moots are killing each other."

I look up at him when he does not respond.

"Online friends," I correct and drop my hand.

He furrows his brows, "so? Let them die."

I inhale deeply, "Tywin-"

"No," he raises a finger, "I understand these online friends of yours mean something to you, but if they are causing you to scream and roll around the bed over an idiotic programme, then you're more simple minded than you've let on."

I scoff, "why not just call me a slur?"

He slips a hand underneath my shirt, rubbing my sides, "I will never understand why such an exquisite creature finds such entertainment in something so dull anyway."

"Hey, it's not that bad, plus I'm only watching the show for Smith Matthews."

He hums, "and what shall we do with the people vexing you over that show?"

"They're not vexing me, they're destroying themselves over opinions on fictional characters and started bringing personal agendas into it."

Tywin watches as a line forms between my brows.

"It's seriously making me anxious because, oh my gosh, it's not that deep," I sigh, resting my hands on his shoulder.

He stares at me for a moment, "show me."

Without another word, I stand up, get my phone from the bed, and sit back down on him. I open my app and begin to drone about the details of the drama.

"Which user is doing this again?"

I show him my screen and he takes my phone, staring at my following list as I explain what happened, "--and then she was like, 'no fucking way' then posted this whole-ass thing about-"

"I've blocked them," he hands me back my phone.

My soul escapes me, "w h a t?"

"I believe the feature was created precisely for moments like thi-"

"DID YOU ACTUALLY?!" I gasp, "OH MY GODS, OH MY GODS--"

Tywin watches as I frantically look through my phone. My expression drops and my heart races as I swipe the screen, seeing that I, in fact, was now following significantly less people. I frantically unblock them.

"TYWIN, YOU BLOCKED PEOPLE NOT EVEN PART OF THE-"

"Enough!" he grabs my phone and chucks it onto his desk.

I stare at him and clench my jaw. My adrenaline is pumping, and so I take it out on his arms, squeezing his biceps until he groans and grabs my hands.

"Your calamity is imagined," he mutters. He rubs my shoulders, "do not waste your time on people you'll not even meet."

"IT'S NOT IMAGINED!" I shake my hands, "IT'S REAL TO ME!"

He flinches at my shriek. He releases me and sighs.

"You can't just do stuff like that!" I whine, feeling my eyes water, "this is like if I went through your emails and deleted the ones that annoyed you."

He purses his lips. He takes a moment before sighing his response, "so? What would you have me do?"

I glare at him and scratch my eyes.

"Hmm?" he shrugs his leg, nudging me on his lap, "is all that's left? For you to cry about your digital pals?"

"grAH! It's not like I can just follow them back and say someone took my-- no wait... I can just say that!"

Tywin raises his brows as I turn to take my phone. Before I can do anything though, he shakes his head, "I thought interacting with them 'freaked you out?'"

"Yes, but I can't just-"

"I'll have their accounts suspended."

I raise my brows as he turns to his desktop.

"What's that app called? I'm sure it will be easy to get someone to-"

"No-- honey, that's so dramatic," I place my hands in his chest.

He turns to me with a raised brow, "now it's dramatic?"

"You're talking about suspending accounts just because!"

"Because they bother you," he rebuts, face dead serious.

His deadpan makes my stomach roll. I gulp and feel my heart race.

"Besides, what's one more bloody email to me when I've gone through hundreds?"

My breathing begins to grow heavy, but no longer because of my internet dilemma.

He averts his attention to his computer, "now tell me the name of that stupid app."

I take a deep breath and chew on my lip. I place my phone down and slump as I look at him, "you like me so much you'd waste your time on this?"

If it was possible, Tywin's deadpan drops even more.

I lick my lips and hold back a laugh, momentarily grinding down on him.

He turns to me.

I mutter, "my stomach feels fuzzy."

"Because of your internet issue?" he leans his head back.

"Hmm... and cos I like how much you like me."

I catch the slight glimmer in his eyes, though he tries not to betray his deadpan.

I sniffle for effect and shrug. I rub our noses together and bite my lower lip, "Mr. Lannister, do you have a crush on me?"

His brows quirk and he is unable to conceal his chuckle. He breaks into a groan and rubs his hands up my back, "what irritating creature you are."

My breath hitches as he leans in for a kiss. It was a chaste one, one that meant to show affection or even soothe. In truth, it was slightly surprising, considering his affections were mostly tangible. I pull away to giggle at him and grasp his cheeks, "you like annoying girlies?"

"Careful now, girl" Tywin narrows his eyes, "I enjoy you, but be careful."

"Mmm," I nudge his face with my nose, "and how would you like to enjoy me, kitty?" I bring my hands to his belt.

"Gagged."

I chuckle as I undo his buckle, "but milorddd--"

He gruffs.

"--I want you to use this on my wrists."

Tywin draws a deep breath, "the brat wants to be bound, does she?"

I nod slowly and pull his belt off. I hang the black leather on me like a scarf and grab his face, kissing him greedily. I shift on his lap and grind down on him. I chuckle when I feel him hardness through my shorts.

"Where do you want to enjoy me, daddy?" I mutter before licking a stripe up his neck.

He groans, "on my desk, whore."

He doesn't have to tell me twice as I shove his things out of the way to make room for myself on the surface. I lie on my back, curling my legs up as I excitedly loop the belt.

"On your belly," he commands.

"Nooo," I whine as I willingly trap my wrists in knot I prepared, "wanna see you. Wanna see you get tired as you fuck me."

Tywin grabs his belt and tightens my bounds, "filthy brat."

I giggle then huff as he yanks my arms up and positions me on his desk. He pushes the hand that held my bound ones above my head and looks down at me. I stretch my legs and wrap them around his waist, "love seeing your face when you come in me, daddy."

"Mmm," he leans and grinds down on my steadily dampening core, "you like seeing me use you like a clock sleeve?"

My breathing strains. I nod with enthusiasm, "all I'm good for."

He hums again, deeply pleased. He grinds rougher into me, causing me to shift from my spot. He grabs my thigh with his free hand and repositions me, "you know your place-"

I grind my hips, meeting his rhythm.

"-yet you somehow believe I should reward you for being a whore," he mutters, stopping his movements.

I make a sound at the lack of friction and seal him tighter around my legs.

"So audacious in your need," he digs his fingers into the garter of my shorts, "beg for it."

"Please," I lick my lower lip, "I need you-- need you to fuck me- use me like toy-"

"Desperate hussy," he pulls my shorts down.

Just as he said, I desperately wiggle to help him pull my shorts off with one hand. He chuckles and sinks his face into my neck, taking in my scent then nipping my skin.

"Let's see how desperate you are," he whispers hotly against my ear.

He rids me fully of my bottoms. He fastens my legs back around him then grinds down into me once more. The friction of his pants on my bare cunt makes me hiss. I moan and throw my head back, adjusting my hips until it feels good. The sound that leaves me when he rubs me the right way is nasty.

Tywin simultaneously moans and sighs. His nails scratch up my thigh and he squeezes my hips before continuing the travel to my breast. He pushes my shirt up and kneads my fleshy lumps. He hums in approval when I arch my back.

"Please. More," I whimper, looking up at him.

He tilts his head, "more what?"

"More you," my hands begin to strain as I overcome with the need to touch him.

He senses it and tightens my bounds, making me whimper. He renews his grip on my wrists then brings his other to inspect the building mess between my thighs.

I moan when he rubs my clit. He pulls back and inspects my arousal. He wets his two fingers with my slick before sinking into me. I whine at his prodding, jaw hanging low, hips grinding into him, "Tywin."

"So soft," he pumps his fingers into me, "so fuckable."

My stomach tightens at the wet sounds of his ministrations, and in turn, I clench around his fingers.

He moans my name, making my stomach flip. He rubs his palm into my clit, "your cunt's hungry for my fingers."

I moan, needing more friction. I pant like a depraved animal, "more, fuck, please."

Tywin basks in the way he makes me tick. He tunes in to the sounds I emit as my folds leak more and more.

I whimper when he pulls out and brings his fingers to my lips. Without any thought, I dutifully clean them, lapping evidence of myself off his digits. I graze his skin with my teeth as he pulls out with a pop. He chuckles, "dirty work for a dirty girl."

"Yes, please, I'm a dirty girl."

I yelp when he grabs me by the throat and pushes my head back. He does not choke me per se, but there is pressure in his hold. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, "again, you think you deserve a reward for being a harlot?"

"No, daddy," I whine, "being a needy whore doesn't win me prizes."

"Mmm," he trails his hands back down to my breast.

"But it does make your cock hard," I sigh as I roll my hips.

This sets Tywin off. It's a visible change. He proceeds to rub my clit to prove a point, and clearly the point is to make me writhe and come all over his desk.

I moan unabashedly, something he's always loved about me. I whine his name and chant agreements, encouraging his finger fucking. I roll my hips and arch my back even more. I throw my head back and feel my neck strain as I chase the building pleasure he was supplying.

And I really shouldn't have been surprised, but he stops just as my orgasm was dawning.

I look at him, teary eyed from the loss of my incoming high. I pout and whine.

"Beg."

"Please, please, I wanna come, baby. I need it. I need it, I want it."

Tywin teases me with his thumbs.

I let out a strangled moan, feeling my body quake, "mmm-- daddy, please. I need you! I need you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me with your fingers, with your cock, oh- fuck- want you to come in me and spit in my mouth and ruin me."

Tywin groans and shakes his head, "you truly are a depraved little whore, aren't you?"

I moan and nod, "yes. Yes, I am. I need it so bad, daddy, it hurts. My pussy needs you-"

He grabs my jaw, squeezing it to keep it open, "you want my spit in your mouth?"

I nod rapidly and stick my tongue out.

"You will not get everything that you want, slut," he says, releasing me to undo his pants with one hand.

I pant as I watch him free himself. When he does, my cunt quakes in anticipation, aching to be filled. I spread my legs, bringing my knees to my sides. My brows furrow in concentration, "please, please, please, I need your cock. Use me, please. I need you--"

My words are cut off by him finally driving into me. I squeal in excitement. I groan and tightly grip on the belt as much as I can. He thrusts into me with little regard for anything but himself. He gets lost in his thrusts. He presses his hand into my inner thigh and pushes my leg down. He pulls the belt on my wrists and pistons harder.

I cry out in approval. I mumble incoherent words of praise and encouragement in manner that scratches my throat.

Tywin eventually releases his hold on my bounds in lieu of rubbing my clit. At the same time, he thrusts slower and deeper, making me throw my head back in pleasure.

"Fuck! Just like that. That feels so fucking good, mmm fuck-"

He drags out his cock even slower, withdrawing until he's nearly out then sinking back in till his stones hit my ass. His deft fingers, wet with my lust for him, rapidly rub my clit in a fast and delicious pace. I squeal when he sporadically slaps into me, only to draw back out in a languid manner again.

My eyes begin to water and my belly trembles at the ministrations.

I whine on beat with his thrusts when he grabs my hips with his large hands and plunges deep, bullying my cunt with short and shallow shoves. My breathing is loud and hard as I wrangle out of my bounds, dying to touch him as he makes my pussy flutter. Seeing this, Tywin growls and pushes my hands back down, "stupid whore. Lay down and take it."

I make a squeaky noise, "wanna touch you- needa touch you."

"Were you not the one who asked for this?" he groans through laboured breath, "are you so dumb fucked already you've forgotten?"

I squeal and feel my breath get knocked out of me when he returns to a more brutish pace, holding me down by my decolletage. My body jolts on impact, in turn, making the desk creak and the objects upon it jostle. My salivating mouth chokes out a response, "no-- wanna to- wan' touch you, da-" I whine, "please."

"Greedy come slut."

I let out a broken moan, "lovie, please- please. Wanna touch- wanna pull you close--"

"I'm inside you," he chuckles darkly, one hand tightening around my throat.

The lack of oxygen and his thrusts make me see stars.

The next moment, he begins to fuck me slowly again, grinding into me in a moderate tempo. He stuffs his thumb into my mouth, effectively muffling my whines. I haughtily suck on his finger. With the new found quiet, the wet slapping and thrusting was now audible to anyone earshot. The sounds makes my belly wild with lust.

"Look at you," he mumbles as he does just that. He looks at me as I suck on his thumb and mewl; he watches as his cock disappears into core, my puffy lips parting with every thrust, "so eager for my seed."

I pathetically sound off at the idea, rolling my hips as I did.

"Shall I put an heir into your belly, pet?" he releases my wrists, bringing the now free hand onto my stomach, "my pretty girl."

I gag at the idea, nibbling down on his thumb as I desperately wiggle the belt off my hands. Tywin ignores me as the fantasy of fucking me pregnant clouds his mind. His breath strains as he rubs a side of my stomach, "though, I do like painting your skin with my seed."

I whimper and furrow my brows. I choke on his thumb as I mutter, "no, inside. Inside, please!"

Tywin is snapped out of his fantasies and pulls his thumb out of my mouth. He tilts his head as he watches me struggle out of the belt, "oh? You think you deserve that?"

I make a frustrated sound as I free myself from my bounds. All the while, Tywin uses his wet thumb to slowly draw circles on my clit.

I gasp when I finally manage to shrug the belt off my wrists.

Lost in the thought again, Tywin continues with his steady and deep pistoning. He imagines how my body might change to accommodate his child, how my belly will grow, how my breasts will heavy, how my slick will sweeten. He hums and curses under his breath. He doesn't actually want an heir, he doesn't think, but gods fantasy of it all.

"Need it," I whimper, reaching out to him. I grab his dress shirt and scratch the sides of his ribs. I lick my lips and debate ripping the his shirt open, but don't want to deal with repercussions of flying buttons nor what he'll do to me for destroying his shirt. I hastily unbutton his top and rub the expanse of his chest. My hands run up to his neck. I massage his shoulders and pull him close, lifting my head up to kiss him.

Tywin leans down, lips finding my own, but just before I can deepen our kiss, he pulls away and clutches my jaw, "I asked if you deserve it, my stupid fuck-toy," he rests his forehead on my temple, "not if you need it."

As this point, his movements slow then cease altogether. I whine in protest.

He clicks his tongue and rubs my thighs, "use your words, darling."

I continue to whine as I scratch as his nape. "I deserve it," I stretch out, peppering kisses all over his face. He leans into me. I lick his lower lip, " 'm a good girl, officer. So good."

He groans when I begin to roll my hips again. He grips the curve of my ass and shakes his head, "your whorish nature proves overwise."

"Please, please, please--"

"Will you cry to me about your woes and then cry again when I take action?"

I rapidly shake my head, "never. Never, lovie."

Tywin hums and rubs his nose on my cheek.

"Please," I beg, "please," I urge, "please."

He kisses my jaw and begins to move again. I squeal in relief and nip at his ear.

"Since you asked so nicely," he mutters, propping himself up on his palms.

I shift my weight on my elbows and chase after his mouth. I give him messy kisses and make it a point to catch his lips between my teeth at least once. Though normally, he would see this as an act worth punishing, in the moment, he did not care. He, quite frankly, loved the neediness, not that's he'd say that out loud.

Tywin loses himself as he bucks into a thorough pace. He plows into me with enough force to make his desk squeak and thud in protest. I meet his movements with the grinding of my hips and wanton pants. Amidst all the sensations, I feel my climax quickly drawing near.

"Yeah, baby, so good. So good."

He grunts as he squeezes the flesh on my hips. He pushes my knees back with one hand as the other rubs down to the small of my back, "you like that?"

I claw at his shoulder, dig my fingers into his nape, and rapidly nod, mumbling in mindless agreement. He huffs, looking down at me in self-satisfaction, wholly enjoying the reaction he was garnering. He spectates the wet slapping of our skin and the shuddering of my belly. He rubs circles on my clit.

"Fuck, Tywin."

He hums, "such sweet sounds."

I drop my head back.

"Prove your obedience then. Come on my cock."

I whimper his name out repeatedly and chase my incoming high.

Tywin pounds into me with more vigor, rougher and harder and more desperate.

I feel my belly begin to tighten. I howl and pull him close. I bring my mouth to his neck and graze him my teeth. I sigh and lick his skin before sucking the area, "give it to me, gimme, baby-- need it, need'a-"

His mouth finds mine and we share a heated kiss. He pushes me flat on the desk, hands on my shoulder and hip. He grips me tightly as he stokes the fire building inside him. He flicks his hips at a desperate pace and his expression displays his single-mindedness: his brows furrow, his jaw drops. My own face makes known how intoxicating it all was. Much as I wanted to watch him come, the twitch of my features prevent me from doing so, and soon enough, my eyes screw shut to focus on my pleasure.

Tywin's nails bite into my skin, and with two strong, distinct plunges, he grunts and releases his lustful heat. He continues to fuck me through his peak, and I feel him throb as he sighs deeply in ecstacy.

Quickly after, I let out a throaty squeal as my body breaks into burning bliss. My spine twists and my thighs shake as I feel my come spill down my ass onto the wood supporting my weight. I heave heavily through my open mouth and squeeze the arm pushing my shoulder down with both my hands. I lick his fingers as I grind into him, riding out my climax.

He begins to falter moments later. I wrap my legs around his waist and seal him in place. My body buzzes as he caresses my neck and rubs my lips with his thumb.

Breathlessly, he praises, "good girl."

My belly tingles and my eyes open to his look of bliss. I lick his thumb then kiss it, pulling his hand off me to then kiss his palm, "thank you, daddy."

Tywin takes a couple open-mouthed breaths as he examines me. He kneads my exposed breast then rubs down my belly. He licks his lips, evidently satisfied. I whimper as I push myself up and bury my face into the crook of his neck. I sneak my arms underneath his open shirt and pepper kisses on his skin, licking, nibbling, and doting on him.

He's accustomed to how I get after a good fucking, and though his sigh was that of content, it was also something else. He places his hands on the curve of my hips and nudges me with his nose, "I have work to do, needy pup."

I bite his neck hard enough to make him react. He calls my name out as a warning. "Wanna stay like this," I whisper hotly against his ear.

He sighs again as my lips kiss their way to his. He knits his brows but returns my affection.

I drape my arms over his shoulders, one hand combing through his white hair, "don't want my old man to be cold."

Tywin makes a disapproving sound at my feigned concern. He rolls his eyes and I simply giggle, knowing even in his annoyance, he'd let me have my way. "You will not distract me," says the man with his serious Lannister™ voice.

I am immensely undeterred and overly confident in my post-sex state, and so I stick my tongue out through my teeth before shaking my head. He sighs yet again, shaking his head as he tries to push me off. I whine and scowl in offense, tightening my arms and legs around him. The man knows it's futile, and yet he continues to push me back, as he also knows he will let himself get distracted once this work stokes his ire.

Coming to terms with his defeat, he stops pushing me off. I pull my lips into a pleased smile and look at him.

He raises his brow and warns, "you will not speak a word unless spoken to."

My stomach rolls at the severity of his tone.

"And you will not complain about how I'm ignoring you, nor long it's taking me to complete my work while you are nestled on my lap."

I chew my lip and tilt my head, "can I complain if I'm off you?"

"Yes."

I nod, "okay, kitty meow meow, sit down on your chair then."

Tywin's brow quirks.

I blink expectantly, "come on, honey. With all the exercise we do, I'm sure you can manage to get us on your chair."

He glares at me, but I simply do not care. I grin and rub the line between his brows.

With a grunt from him and a giggle from me, we end up on his chair. I kiss his cheek and rub his shoulders, "good boy."

He ignores me and rolls his chair towards his desk with slight difficulty. He arranges his things and wipes down the wet blob on his desk with a tissue, "dirty temptress."

I chuckle and rest my head on his shoulder.

We both know Tywin Lannister would never donate to charity 🤢 be better than our old man, and please consider donating €5 to Rital's GoFundMe if you enjoyed this fic.

#for rital #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #tywin lannister smut #tywin smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fanfic #got smut #tywin fanfic #tywin lannister fanfic #lannister fanfic #tywin fluff #tywin lannister fluff

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whalesforhands · 10 months

Text

the first-years of jujutsu high! (satosugu x reader)

warnings: yuuji just doesn’t understand how relationship dynamics work, fluff, mistaken cheating, teacher! geto and gojo (+haibara)

Itadori Yuuji thinks that he fares quite well with his classmates despite being the new kid within the Jujutsu High campus. He thinks himself someone easy to get along with; and quite the sociable person.

But what does he think of his own classmates?

He thinks Nanako treats him quite well. Boisterous, loud, girly and quite the chatty trend follower. Someone that Kugisaki had clicked with almost immediately.

“That’s what you call style? You gotta be kidding me, Yuu-kun.” Her eyes squint as she stands next to Nobara, the train doors closing behind him as he faces equally unimpressed gazes, their arms crossed over their chests as matching charms on their bags jingle with every movement. “No wonder Nobara-chan thinks you need to go shopping.” He feels arms hook around one of his as he’s dragged forth; the glittering of the streetwear shops suddenly all too much. “Let’s get you that city-boy charm!”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?!”

He thinks her twin is a little… Odd. Unsettling, a little scary, quiet… But nice. Almost similar to Fushiguro.

“Itadori Yuuji! I hope to get along with you!” A bright grin and polite hand stuck out for a handshake! The shine of his smile and the friendly demeanour of a highschool boy!

He watches as she squeezes the stitch-filled plush closer to her body, stroking its head as blank brown eyes look him up and down, a slightly ominous aura emanating off of her as he feels a certain chill up his spine.

(That’s just the wind… Right? It’s uncharacteristically chilly in here all of a sudden…)

“I… See.” She finally takes his hand as the head of her doll lolls perfectly to the side to meet his surreptitious gaze, causing him to gulp nervously as he feels tingles spidering up his back.. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance…”

Of course, he loves the teachers here! Someone would’ve have needed the coldest, most treacherous of hearts to hate them!

“Haibara-sensei, you’re so cool!” Excited rambling as he laid on the ground, bruises littering his body and watching with glittering eyes as said teacher grins victoriously down at him. “I thought I had you cornered when I was about to kick, but then you grabbed my leg and it went WHOOSH! BAAAAM!”

“Ahaha! Well, train up and eat rice daily! And soon you’ll be just as strong, Itadori-kun!” A resounding laughter from his chest as hands are placed upon his hips, turning his body to face the rest of the groaning first-years. “Lesson 3! Expect the unexpected, even when you think you have the upperhand!”

“Fuck! There’s a crack in my nail…!”

“Take the nail repair kit in my room later, Nobara-chan…” Nanako is absolutely exhausted with her back against an equally fatigued Mimiko groaning in pain. “I can’t believe he took all of us on when we surprised him like that…” A shiver up her spine at the memory of getting humbled so quick…

“Shut up, all of you…” Megumi fares no better as he grits his teeth, hands on his knees as he finally gets back on his feet. “As if a beat-down isn’t bad enough already…”

“Don’t be so rude, Gumi…” Mimiko’s pained moans reach the annoyed boy’s ears as he waves her off.

“I still can’t believe Fushiguro lets you call him Gumi.”

“There, there kids! Enough complaining, time to get yourselves over to Nanami-sensei’s class!”

Itadori Yuuji thinks that his teachers are wonderful people, the best around. But— Something has been weighing heavy on his mind, a trouble that he has issues coming to terms with. He can’t tell Fushiguro, can he? He can’t tell the twins— Or even Kugisaki. A secret that twinges and shrouds him in panic and worry.

“Hmm? Yuuji-kun, you don’t seem to be eating much today.” The happy tilt of your head, the innocent smile on your face as you greet the first-year in the cafeteria.

“Guh!” He nearly chokes on his food in fear when he hears your voice, his heart rate shooting up as his palms clam, fear and guilt flashing in his eyes as he starts to cough.

He feels you start patting his back vigorously with surprising strength. “Yuuji? Yuuji?! Are you okay?!”

How does he tell you, his lovely teacher— That he saw your husband cheating on you with the Geto Suguru?!

“Ehhh? No kaifuku mochi?” There’s a pout on his face, the blindfold sliding down to stare at the man.

He’s never seen Gojo-sensei so… Needy with someone else other than you before.

“I’m sorry, Satoru. They were all out at the store.”An apologetic kiss is planted on Gojo’s cheek to soften the pout on his face. “I’ll get it next time, okay? My spoiled prince.”

“Hmph! I want another kiss to make up for it.”

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no…

He’s seen it before, the matching rings you and Gojo-sensei donned— Shiny circles that glinted every so often when catching against the light. Ah— And with how often the man likes to drop by the class to pick you up. What a lovely gentleman, as expected of someone deserving of you… Had it not been for his serious adultery?!

Oh, how this guilt eats him up every time you smile at him…

——

It all comes crashing down one day. Days of pulling at his hair, pounding at his own chest and nervous biting of his nails all finally comes to an end.

“Itadori.” The classroom is dark, left only with the two as tree branches tap against the windows.

He’s never heard Nobara so serious before, her elbows on her desk and her hands placed together as her eyes glint dangerously, fingers tapping against each other.

“(name)-sensei… Is being two-timed.” She clenches her fists, irate anger coursing through her. Just how dare that slimy, sneaky man cheat on you? Just where did he get that audacity from?!

“Woah, Kugisaki, you noticed too?!” He thought he was doomed, cursed with this knowledge to bear upon his shoulders forever, hands slamming down onto her desk and hopeful eyes finally happy to see a like-minded individual!

“That’s right. And I can’t stand it anymore…”

A knowing look is exchanged between the two as the air tenses, a nod exchanged between them as their throats tightened, finally unveilingtheir cards.

“Gojo-sensei is cheating on her!”

“Geto-sensei is a cheat!”

Silence.

…

…eh?

“WHAT?! HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE RING MATCHING WITH GETO-SENSEI’S NECKLACE?”

“HUH?! THAT RING IS MATCHING WITH THE ONE ON GOJO-SENSEI’S FINGER!”

“HAH? GET SERIOUS ALREADY!” Furious irritation as her eye twitches, flashing her teeth at him. “NO WAY THAT OLD MAN CAN GET SOMEONE LIKE (NAME)-SENSEI!”

“GOJO-SENSEI IS HANDSOME AND RICH! HE BUYS US SUSHI ALL TIME!”

“What does sushi have to do with—?!”

The door is slid open. Mimiko.

“…why are you both yelling?”

——

“You shouldn’t be carrying all those papers yourself.” The weight is immediately lifted off of your arms before you can blink, your senses picking up on a familiar; darker energy.

“Suguru, welcome back.” Your head tilts up to face him, the stack of papers being held in one of his arms as his hand is freed to go up to your cheek.

A thumb slowly grazes over your skin as you smile, happy to see your husband back after one of his missions.

“Hmm,” You watch him as his eyes smile down at you, mischief in the quirked up corners of his lips. “Is that all I’m getting?” He was honestly hoping for more. “I risked my life out there, you know?”

“Of course not.” How overdramatic. There’s the slight tiptoe of your feet, and a quick peck to his jaw before you pull away.

“Oooh, exchanging PDA on school grounds? Scandalous!” A burst of cursed energy invades your senses, blinding hot and white.

You feel long arms settle around both you and the long-haired man, pulling you both closer together towards another, sneaky hand settling themselves on your lower back.

“Hello, darlings! Dinner is still on tonight, by the way! At that restaurant Nanako wanted to go to.”

You hear a sigh.

“Isn’t there a need for you to report using your powers on school grounds, Satoru?” A quirk of his brow as he simply lets it happen, feeling the man play and twirl with a strand of his long hair.

“I hope you don’t get in trouble for doing that…” A pat to your head as you hear a scoff.

“Pfft— Me? In trouble? What are they gonna do? Put me in Satoru jail? Anyway—“ You see his lips pucker up as they lean in towards the both of you, with index fingers pointing at the corner of his lips with a rather cute grin on his face.

“My ‘see-you-later Satoru kiss’, please! I got a meeting with Yaga and needa top up on some energy!”

From behind a wall, three faces peek on.

“See?” Mimiko’s stare is deadpan as she watches the jaw of one of her classmates drop impossibly further to the ground as the other just stares confusedly.

“N-no way! Are you sure she isn’t being hypnotized?! Held hostage?!”

“Please do not speak of Geto-sensei that way. The other one, however—“

“Eh? So (name)-sensei, Geto-sensei and Gojo-sensei are all… Together?”

“For the last time, Yuuji-kun… Yes.”

“Uhh… Eh? Sorry, Mimiko— Could you explain it one more time?”

Sigh.

KOFI bonus scenes!

masterlist

#dyf au #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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