#but you will always get what you've paid for. that i can promise

[toktopus-art]

(EDIT: i'm finishing the rest of the commissions so comms are closed for a bit but the waitlist is open! I'm going to focus on Patreon for october but I will start accepting new commissions again soon <3)

hi! i'm opening commissions again, and this time I'm on Artistree! i've been wanting to try out this platform for a while because it seems like a very simple and good way to take and request commissions. you don't need an account to leave a commission request. i can then accept the request and start working on the sketch. I will send the WIP sketch for you to approve before I continue with the commission. artistree does add a small fee on top of the commission price, but with every sale they donate to plant a tree!

this link takes you to my artistree request form

alternatively, if you don't want to use artistree, I still have my google form. works the same way, fill out the form, I will contact you to confirm your slot, and after the payment I'll start working on the sketch.

payment via paypal!

link to the google form

please check out my TOS before commissioning!

you can see commission examples on the artistree request form.

for just sketch commissions, check out my ko-fi! :) and here's also my patreon (which is very close to 100 members!!) i post a lot of art and comics and also wallpaper versions of my art on there.

for commissions, please have some kind of visual reference of the character you want me to draw (unless it's a character I can just search images of). if you commission art of a fanfic scene, please describe the scene and the character(s) in detail.

thank u!

[tarotwithavi]

A letter from your future self

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

This is a general reading so only take what resonates and leave the rest.

Masterlist ✉️ Paid services

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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT 🫶🏻💞

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 1

Dear past me,

This is me sending you a big hug through this letter. It feels like you’re always pushing, always defending what you believe in. It’s been tough, I know. But I want you to remember something important: this struggle is shaping you into someone strong and unshakeable. Each time you stand your ground, you are becoming more of who you are meant to be.

There is a quiet power within you that often gets overlooked, even by you. It’s that deep, inner knowing ,your intuition that whispers truths only you can hear. Trust it. Trust yourself. You don’t always need to shout to be powerful; sometimes, the most potent strength comes from within, from a place of stillness and certainty. Let that inner voice guide you, even when things seem uncertain or confusing.

And speaking of confusion, I know there are moments when everything feels like a blur, like you’re lost in a fog and can’t see the path ahead. Those moments are scary, but they are also where your deepest wisdom lies. Don’t fear the unknown. Dive into it. Embrace it. This journey isn’t just about reaching a destination; it’s about discovering who you are when the light is dim, and the road is unclear.

I want you to know that your fire is what makes you unique. Your passion, your creativity, and your ability to lead with courage even when you’re scared, that's your gift to the world. You don’t need to hide your light or dim it for anyone. Keep that flame burning bright, because it will guide you through the darkest nights.

Remember, I’m already here, living the life you’re dreaming of. I’ve faced the fears, the battles, and the doubts, and I’ve come out the other side stronger and more certain of who I am. And you will, too. Trust in the journey, trust in yourself, and know that you are exactly where you need to be right now. Keep going. The future is waiting, and it’s more beautiful than you can imagine.

With love and faith,

Your Future Self

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 2

Dear troubled me,

I see you there, carrying so much on your shoulders, wondering if it's all going to be worth it. You've put in the work, tried so hard to make things right, and yet sometimes it feels like you're stuck in the same place, like nothing is changing. I know you're tired. I know you're feeling the weight of all the choices you've made and the dreams that haven’t turned out the way you’d hoped. But I promise you every step you’ve taken, every seed you’ve planted, is leading you somewhere important. Even when you can’t see it yet.

I know you’ve been overwhelmed. It feels like you’re doing everything alone, like no one really understands the pressure you're under. You’ve been carrying responsibilities that aren’t always yours to bear, trying to hold everything together, and sometimes, it just feels like too much. And it’s okay to admit that. It’s okay to feel like you need a break. You don’t have to do everything perfectly. You’re allowed to put down what isn’t yours and take care of yourself first.

You’ve also faced those moments of disappointment the kind that stays with you, that makes you question your choices and what you’ve lost along the way. I know it’s hard to see past what didn’t work out, to not let it define you. But what I want you to remember is that these moments are not the end of your story. They are a part of your journey, a testament to your courage to keep moving, to keep feeling, to keep believing in something more.

There will be nights when you feel like you can’t escape your thoughts, when the fears and worries seem to have no end. You are stronger than those thoughts. You are more than your darkest moments. You have the ability to change your narrative, to find your way back to peace. I know it feels heavy right now, but you have it within you to rise above it.

There is a new path waiting for you. A chance to step into something different, something that lights you up in ways you never thought possible. A fresh start where you’re no longer bound by what’s held you back, where you trust yourself enough to take that leap into the unknown. Your spirit is ready for this, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet. Trust in the adventure that’s unfolding for you. Believe in the magic of new beginnings, and know that the future you’ve been dreaming of is closer than you think.

With all the love and faith in your strength,

Your Future Self

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 3

Dear Me,

I am writing to you from a time when things are clearer and lighter. I know right now, life feels like a series of choices and uncertainties. You’re standing at a crossroads, unsure of which path to take. But I want to remind you of something very important: trust yourself. You have a pure heart and a courageous spirit, and that's all you need to move forward.

Life is bringing you a connection that is deep and meaningful. Embrace it fully, without fear. It might not look like what you expect or come at the most convenient time, but it will fill your heart in ways you can’t imagine. This is your time to take a leap, to jump into new experiences without overthinking, without doubting. This journey might feel risky, but it will lead you to places where your soul feels alive.

Along the way, you’ll meet someone or maybe a part of yourself who is passionate, romantic, and perhaps a bit of a dreamer. They (or you) will inspire you to see the beauty in the small things again. Follow these feelings; they are your compass. But remember, not everything will be perfect. There will be moments of conflict and struggle. Sometimes, it will feel like people are challenging you or taking advantage of you. There will be a sense of loss or tension, like you've been fighting battles that wear you down.

But through these struggles, you’ll discover something powerful within yourself. You’ll learn what is truly worth fighting for and what isn’t. You'll grow wiser, stronger, and more determined. You'll start to see yourself in a new light a light that burns bright with confidence, creativity, and fire. You’ll become the person who knows her worth and doesn’t settle for less.

In the end, you’ll find a place of peace and abundance. A place where you’re comfortable in your own skin, where you feel secure and proud of what you’ve built for yourself. You’ll be surrounded by the things you love and the people who cherish you. This is the life waiting for you , a life that feels rich not just in material things but in spirit and joy.

So, dear me, be brave. Be bold. Trust the path, even when it twists and turns. Know that everything is leading you to a future where you stand strong, radiant, and fulfilled.

With love,

Your Future Self

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[ariestrxsh]

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, blowjob, voyeurism, blackmail, mean!roughdom!chris

🖤 author's note: 🖤 part two is going to be some of the filthiest, roughest shit i've ever written, so proceed with caution.

🖤 summary: 🖤 your manager, chris, finds out you've been giving away free drinks at your bartending job, and he blackmails you. he won't tell your little secret as long as you can give him what he wants..

this story was requested/inspired by this ask 💖 (promise that i will be serving filth in part two)

Closer part one

You rolled your eyes when you walked into work, saw the schedule, and realized who you were closing with.

You loved everything about being a bartender. You liked serving drinks, flirting with the customers, and listening to music all night. You made decent money, and you even liked your coworkers. Well, most of them.

The one thing you couldn't stand about your job was Chris, your manager, who was insufferable to work with. Anytime the two of you shut down the bar together, he'd waste time either playing around on his phone, sitting in his car smoking weed, or hiding in the backroom doing god knows what. This meant you'd end up doing most of the closing tasks alone.

All Chris really did was count the money and lock the door at the end of the night, and it always pissed you off that he got paid more than you. It's not like he was better-qualified for the position or had a better work ethic than you did, but he'd landed himself a position in management because the owner was his best friend's dad.

"Can't wait to close with you, sweetheart. You always get us out faster than I do with any of the other girls," Chris grinned at you with a tooth pick between his teeth while he leaned up against the stainless steel counter in a black tanktop and jeans.

"Wow, that's crazy, because we'd get out even faster if you could go one shift without getting high in the parking lot, and instead helped me rinse out all the beer taps," you snarked back.

"You know, I have way more important shit to worry about than wiping down surfaces. That's why I have you," Chris remarked, flashing you a smirk and brushing the back of his hand across your cheek. You pulled away and scoffed at him. "Love when you play hard to get," Chris whispered before wandering off towards the back. You rolled your eyes.

It was Friday night, which meant it'd be busy, and you were hoping to pull in enough tips to make rent by the end of the shift. You were getting into a flow, mixing drinks, and engaging in witty banter with some out-of-towners when your eye caught Chris heading out to the parking lot. There was a pretty blonde girl with him.

You finished serving the drink in your hand and turned to your coworker, Sam. "Hey, cover me while I go have a cigarette?" You leaned in and asked. She gave you the thumbs up. You went to the back, shuffling around in your purse for your American spirits.

You weren't gonna spy on Chris. You were just curious to see where he was going, who he was with, and what they were doing. Okay, fine. You were spying on Chris.

You made your way outside, sparking up the end of your cigarette, and heading towards the back of the building where the smoking area was. You didn't see Chris or the girl anywhere at first until your eyes landed on Chris' car. Chris was in the driver's seat, and it looked like he was alone.

That was until you saw that Chris had a fistful of her blonde hair in his grip, bouncing her up and down on his lap. You studied Chris' expression, the way it was steeped in desire, the way his jaw hung slightly open, and the way he was peering down. He was definitely getting head in his car.

The girl's head bobbed up down, disappearing and reappearing behind the dashboard. You knew you shouldn't be watching, and you always thought you'd be grossed out if you ever caught Chris doing anything like that, but you couldn't take your eyes off him.

You sat there, taking drag after drag off your cigarette while you watched Chris enjoying himself in his car. In your deepest, darkest fantasies, you wondered what he sounded like behind the glass windows.

A wetness started to pool between your legs, and it's not that you were jealous that you weren't the one doing it, but.. fuck, were you a little jealous? You watched in awe until you'd smoked your cig all the way down to the filter.

You knew it would be hard to hate Chris and be annoyed with his closing process when your mind was overwhelmed with daydreams about sucking him off. You threw your cigarette on the ground and smushed it into the asphalt with your sneaker.

Thankfully, the night stayed busy, and you were able to keep your mind off the incident momentarily when an older gentleman who immediately caught your eye walked in through the door and sat at the end of the bar. You noted how handsome he was with his salt and pepper hair, his nice suit, and his intense stare. He looked like he could be in his forties, but you didn't mind. You liked older men.

"Whatcha drinking?" You smiled, approaching him. "A double of your finest scotch. Neat," he replied, looking deep into your soul. What a refined drinking order. He paid for his scotch right away, probably not planning on staying very long, but the two of you hit it off.

For next hour or so, he nursed his drink while you got to know a little bit about each other. You learned that he was a professor who taught philosophy, and he learned that you were a avid lover of philosophy. The subject had meandered towards absurdist theory and Albert Camus' works.

"You know, I remain unconvinced that life or anything at all really, has any meaning," you leaned onto the bar, looking into his dark, sultry eyes, "if there is no inherent meaning, then that takes all the pressure off." You grabbed his empty glass off the counter between the two of you, and you gestured to see if he wanted another.

"Please," he accepted, "don't you think it's a little sad if you don't give life some kind of meaning?" He squinted at you, trying to pick your brain.

"No, not at all, because we humans subconsciously give meaning to nearly everything that happens in our everyday lives, and it actually distorts our view of objective reality and keeps us assuming and imprisoned to a slew of reactions based off of a bunch of self-drawn conclusions," you replied, "plus if I were sad about life not having any meaning, I'd be a nihilist, not an absurdist." You topped off his glass and slid it over to him with a smug look on your face.

"Hmm. Smart girl," he responded, picking up his glass and taking a few sips. You liked that you'd found a man who could actually hold an intellectual conversation with you, and you boldly requested his number. He wrote it down on a napkin and slid it over to you.

"Does this mean I'm gonna see you again?" He stared at you longingly. "It can mean whatever you want it to mean," you smirked at him.

When he finished his drink, he pulled out his wallet to pay, but you stopped him. "Last one's on the house. Thanks for the mentally stimulating discussion. I don't get much of that around here," you insisted.

"Maybe that's because you're talking to boys instead of men," he suggestively raised an eyebrow at you and left you a generous tip before leaving the bar.

Shit. You hadn't even caught his name.

The rest of the night went well. It was fast-paced, everyone was in a good mood, and the tips were flowing in. Last call rolled around, and you started to clean up your station. "Who was that pretentious douchebag you were talking to?" Chris came up behind you, rasping directly into your ear and startling you, causing you to drop a shotglass.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounded a little jealous.

"Shit!" You exclaimed, bending down to clean up the broken glass. Chris' eyes were drawn to your perfectly-shaped ass that your jeans hugged so well. "He teaches philosophy at the University. But I didn't catch his name," you replied.

"But you got his number," Chris snatched the folded napkin hanging out of your back pocket. "Give me that back!" You exclaimed, reaching for it as Chris held it above his head.

"I'll give it back to you, but first. You and I need to talk," Chris' tone got a little more serious. "About what?" You asked, picking up on the sudden shift in his voice. "You know, Professor Pretentious was drinking Macallan Scotch Whiskey, don't you?" Chris inquired as if that was supposed to mean something to you. "And?" You asked, shrugging at Chris.

"Do you have any idea how expensive that shit is and how dead you would be if Boss Man knew you were giving it out for free to old men you wanted to bone?" Chris leaned in close and gave you a disappointed look. "Well, we won't know, because he won't find out about it, will he, Chris?" You shot him a look.

"Well, the cameras show you handing him two drinks, but his bill only has one listed," Chris responded, indicating he had evidence. "Chris, come on. You wouldn't do that," you sneered at him. "Sure, I would. Unless you give me something I want. Then I won't tell boss man, and I'll give you professor dickhead's number back," Chris smirked at you deviously.

"What do you want?" You rolled your eyes, not really having a choice but to hear him out. "I'll think about it. In the meantime, I'm gonna go do inventory and count the safe, and you're gonna clean this shit up. Fucking loser," Chris said, motioning towards the broken glass on the ground and rolling his eyes. Then he left out the front door, presumably to go smoke weed in his car.

The clock hit 2:00 a.m. It was the end of the night, and no thanks to Chris, all your closing duties were done even earlier than you'd expected. The two of you were the only staff still there, and you were ready to hear whatever sick ultimatum Chris was about to give to you.

You trudged into the office where he was sitting on his phone with his feet kicked up on the desk. "All done, princess?" Chris asked, lustfully glancing you up and down. "Ew, don't call me that," you responded. "Why? You like it too much?" He chuckled at you.

"What's it gonna take for you to keep your mouth shut and give me back my future husband's phone number?" You crossed your arms, avoiding addressing his accusation. Chris fixed his contemplative eyes on you and gave you a bit of a malicious grin, "All you have to do is let me fuck you."

You were immediately taken aback, thinking you didn't hear him right. "What!?" You swallowed hard and narrowed your gaze at him. He stood up and got into your face, making you feel small and weak. "What? You liked watching me get head in the parking lot, and now you're getting all shy on me?" Chris cooed, stroking your cheek with his knuckles.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, and you found yourself unable to say anything. You were completely humiliated by the fact that he'd seen you peeping on him.

"Don't worry, princess. I won't tell anyone you like to watch. But I will tell Boss Man about the scotch if you don't let me do whatever I want to you," he said in a low, sexy voice, his carnal needs carved into the expression on his face.

"It kind of feels like you're not giving me a choice here," you studied his hypnotic blue and eyes and your gaze fell to his full lips.

"Well, then here are your choices. Let me spell them out for you. First scenario, I tell the boss, you get fired, you go work at a new bar, and you never have to see me again. Second scenario, you get on your fucking knees and you let me use that little back-talking mouth of yours and whatever other way I want to have you, and I'll make this whole problem of yours disappear," he winked at you and leaned in, chuckling into your ear,

"And if you choose the last option, I'm just letting you know in advance, I like it disgustingly rough."

part two posted here 💖

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @miss-delicious @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @mattsfavbigtitties @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @sturnrc @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @aalirosesblog @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mynameisuser834 @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx

[gremlingottoosilly]

Nature vs Nurture (monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

The new world order - monsters on top, creating the perfect dystopia for humans. You are nothing but a pet to them, a breeding mare for their perverse desires…and now you've finally been claimed by their colonel. Good luck.

Tags and TW: Dub-con, monster fucking, size kink, power imbalance, dumbification, pet play, dystopia, obsessive Konig, tentacle monster Konig, oviposition, breeding. AO3

It was supposed to be a supply run. Fast, quick, stealthy. In and out, the ruins of the abandoned store not so far from your hiding spot. Whatever you could find, some canned food – maybe, but not realistically. Some rubble and garbage that could be exchanged for food for triple the price it was – possible. Realistic. 

It was supposed to be a quick supply run. Like a rabbit out of her hole – but not really a rabbit, not even having the courtesy of strong legs and long ears that could spot anyone from a mile away. No, of course not – the universe wasn’t feeling particularly merciful when you were born a human in the age before monsters decided they didn’t want to be servants anymore. You think you remember going to the store like a normal person. Picking up a cart, hauling anything you could afford – not bothering about a lot of things. 

There are still stores, you think. Remesances of capitalism, working only for monsters – whatever crude economy they were building, it stayed in the cities. In the military bases, were filled with monsters even before the uprising. Not here, in the wasteland – it belongs to humans, as little as there were left. 

It was supposed to be a quick supply run for you and your friends – but you were dumb, but you were careless, but you grew accustomed to being the only one here, you didn’t even spot a patrol. Nasty fuckers, getting humans off the abandoned streets – you tried to fight and it didn’t work. Tried to run, and they were faster. Always faster. You should have been quicker, you shouldn’t have been a human – but you are, your soft self still not hardened by the life on the run, so you weren’t put out of your misery as you saw some other humans who got caught. Monsters took pity on you – or, perhaps, your submissiveness finally paid off. You were shown off the corner of a store – a human store, as you read, the words burning in your mind. You heard the stories about humans – attractive, soft people, mostly weak and obedient – who were snatched off the streets to do god knows what. Monsters can’t breed on their own, you remembered. 

You can hear the voices coming somewhere in the hallway, a good few meters away from your cage. You force yourself to stay as far from the bars as possible, not wanting to attract attention. Not even want to bother yourself with trying to see what your captors look like – monsters can take on human appearance and you’d rather live without seeing a human pet trader looking like someone who could have been your neighbor before the uprising. You curl in a ball, hugging your knees. Sobbing softly, quietly – knowing that there is no way out of here now. Not even other humans would help you now. “Just got new batch, colonel. Doesn’t look like a resistance member” “Ja, I heard that the last time. Schlampe killed all the hatchlings the second they were born.” “W…we didn’t know, sir! I promise, it was a…” “You can’t even breed them properly. There wasn’t any new humans in months, wolf” “Humans are…delicate, sir. They don’t want to breed in captivity.” “Make them then.” You hear something heavy shuffling around. You hear heavy footsteps that are making the flimsy flor of your cage shake. Even monsters have their disputes – but you can’t bother with caring when you hear footsteps approaching. Large shadow casting down on you. Making you feel even more small and miserable than you did before. Your head hurts. Your stomach hurts. Your everything hurts. 

Someone is staring at you. You see…someone. Humanoid silhouette – too big to belong to a human, at least 7 feet tall and broader than the entirety of your cage. You whimper when the creature tilts its head to the side, a surprisingly boyish tone of his voice grasping on your panicking mind. It isn’t the one that captured you but, for some reason, you can sense that he is even more dangerous. There is something on his uniform – some decorations, you think. Soldiers from the age before the uprising are all have quite high ranks in the new society – if they are monsters, that is. Large, droopy red tentacle falls from the guy’s hood. Definitely a monster. 

— Come closer, human. You whimper, trying to get up – only to get as far away from him as possible. You’re terrified, but he only hums in acknowledgment. A group of tentacles rising from under his hood, pushing you towards him through the bars. You were never more thankful for being locked away. 

— Disobedient. Or just dumb? 

— I d…don’t…

You cry, not wanting to give an answer – too disoriented, your nostrils are filled with the smell of sea and blood. You feel light-headed, dizzy, you’re hungry and dehydrated and you don’t know how could you even proceed to resist when one of his tentacles goes through the bars of your cage. Caresses your face, surprisingly gentle. Smearing cold slime around your skin, but even this is a welcoming feeling – you’d take everything that isn’t damp air of the human compound and the old sweat tattering your skin. You’d give anything for a bath right now. At least a few wet wipes, to wash the grime off your face – to stop feeling like an animal even though you know you’re already been reduced to one. — Just dumb, then. Gut. Monster caresses your face for a while, admiring your features. Salty tears feel like heaven on his tentacles – you can’t possibly see him, but he is grinning under that weird hood of his, adoring how obedient you are. It might be just exhaustion, but he missed humans like this – broken and abandoned. Soft and adorable, crying at the brim of a hat. König is going to have a lot of fun breaking you in – you couldn’t possibly be worse than the last wife he took. He wants to see you round and filled with his eggs. He wants you to see you cry for his cock, begging him to fill you up like the dumb, pathetic human you are. He wants to lay in the nest with you, pressing his body against yours – stealing the coolness of your body, covering you with his tentacles like a perfect chewing toy. He wants to… — Ah, sir. This is the new one. Just took her yesterday. 

A merchant smiles, slimy face spreading in a wide grin. Tentacles retreat from your face and shoulders immediately, only leaving a small trace of liquid over your features. If you were dumb enough, you could have sworn the monster was affectionate – but you don’t want to be dumb. Can’t survive in this world only on silliness, unfortunately. — I will take this one. — B…but it isn’t properly domesticated yet! You know how wild strays can be, colonel… — I thought you said all pets were properly obedient? 

— W…well, of course, sir, but… — I don’t need a trained slut to carry my eggs. This one would do nicely. Consider this your sacrifice to the order, ja? Before you know it, the merchant showed you in the hands of a giant man. Colonel, as you heard – not knowing proper military ranks, you wonder how high it can be. Or low. Monsters only value power and personal strength – and the merchant was fucking terrified of the tentacle creature who was holding you right now. Perhaps, you should have tried your chances of running away and being killed. Perhaps, you should have slowly died of hunger instead of coming out for supplies. `You’re held high in the air – too high for your liking. The monster presses you against his chest like he expects you to run away any second now – and you want to, really, nothing you’d love more but to simply jump off and run for the hills. But you’re too exhausted, the hunger sitting deep in your empty stomach makes you think that, maybe, for whatever reason this monster bought you for, he’d at least feed you. Maybe turn you into a pet – this is why there are stores for captured humans, right? Humans were treating their pets nicely, maybe the monster wouldn’t be too far off. Tentacles are swirling around your legs, around your hands – now you can’t even move your neck properly, cheek squished against a warm chest. This monster is a weird one – it’s like he can’t stop his tentacles from touching you, the cold tips of his tendrils spreading slime on the dryness of your skin. His body is warmer than any human would be, and his tentacles are cold – the contrast against your naked skin, barely covered by your torn clothes, is making you crazy. Making you think about weird things – like the monster reproduction again. Like your empty tummy, like the friends you left at the compound when you were supposed to go for supplies. Not getting captured by one of the monster higher-ups.

— You’re soft for a human. You weren’t even sure he was talking to you at first. You’ve been walking for a couple of minutes before you could finally hear some traces of civilization. Roaring vehicles. Gunfire. Laugh and groans – moans, too, to your surprise, not all of them very pain-induced. Your face is still pressed in his chest, you can’t see anything meaningful – but he stops in some corner, you think, covering you in his arms like a package he needed to deliver. You aren’t sure if you remember what the word “package” means. Something naughty, you think. — Quiet, too. 

You still don’t answer, and he hums. Pushes you on the ground, suddenly – you fall on your ass, yelping in pain and surprise as you lay on something softer than a concrete floor. It’s a pile of mattresses, you realize. You’re in a room, you realize – still too dizzy after everything that’s happened, you didn’t even notice when he entered the building and pushed you away from the sounds of life you wanted to hear so much of. You’re sitting on your ass on the pile of soft, rotten mattresses – a faint smell of decay builds up in your nose, but you can’t even concentrate. The tentacles are spreading your legs suddenly – you cry and whimper, your walls breaking down to reveal a soft center because the monster tears away your pants with ease. Your clothes weren’t much, to begin with, dirty and torn after the capture – still, you don’t want to be naked in front of him. You don’t want to be naked in front of anyone. 

— Spread your legs, human. You don’t want to, but you obey – you don’t wish to give him an opportunity to pry your legs open, to use force and make your life even more miserable. You know that being so obedient is kind of pathetic but, honestly, you couldn’t care less at this point. If being pathetic would save you from a broken leg, you will spread yourself open. Place each ankle on the side of the rotten mattress, not even caring that the thing fabric of your clothes – whatever little is left there – is slowly whiskered away by the tentacles. His hands are worse, somehow. He pushes your legs a bit wider, making you hiss from the stretch – and then he tears off your underwear. Not even letting you a chance to save your dignity – before you could cover yourself with your hands, at least, he is already launched at your cunt, smaller tendrils swirling around your core. You’re dry, obviously – and the monster tilts his head to the side. Acknowledging. Looking. He isn’t soft in his movements and the prying attention makes you embarrassed – if your legs weren’t in hid hold already, you’d try to close them. To save yourself. His motives are obvious, his intentions are clear – still, you sob and whine i his hold when his hand slowly presses on the button of your clit. The colonel – you try to remember this, it’s probably important –  is somewhat slow – he pushes your inner lips, spreads your hole as much as you can with a meager amount of fluid from the slime of his tendrils and, somehow, you find yourself getting aroused. Maybe, it’s his attention – he isn’t laying his eyes off you, and it almost makes you blush too much. He is adorable in this way if a monster of his regard can even be called this – and you’re freaking terrified when he goes closer, looks at you even more. 

His hand is making squelching sounds as your cunt becomes wetter by the second – it’s the first time in forever you had this kind of attention, and surviving the monster revolution didn’t exactly help with getting the edge off. You’re desperate for anyone to touch you – and the monster has beautiful hands. Big and burly, with tendrils sometimes running around to add even more lube – you know you’d never get anything like this with a normal human. — Need to check you first, Maus. The merchant keeps sending me infertile ones. You don’t know what he is talking about – but his hand lays flat on your tummy, putting you in place, and the larger tentacle – big, slimy one, with uneven structure with little bumps that made you wonder how it’s even going to fit inside – slowly creps to your sloppy, wet opening. It doesn’t hurt, you’re wet and open – something in the lube he extracted made you dizzy, dumb, you don’t even know when you spread your legs a bit more and welcomed the intrusion. It feels right, it feels wrong, it feels like the thing to die for – it feels like something that could kill you. He laughs and it sends slow rumbles right to the tendril penetrating your pussy. The pressure on your clit is too much – and your brain is to foggy to think that it reminds you more of a medical exam than actual sex. The tentacle inside is vibrating, twisting and turning, pressing on your cervix – it should feel painful, it can’t be this good but, somehow, you welcome the feeling of being this fucking full. You don’t buck your hips, but you cry and moan – and it’s enough of an indication of your pleasure. Monster laughs, his other hand goes to lay on your face – a surprisingly gentle gesture. Short-lived, but you could still feel the warmness lingering on your tattered skin. It’s hot and cold with him – you aren’t sure what comes next, but the tendrils are sliding in and out, probing at the entrance of your womb and, despite everything, you feel the knot in your stomach untying. The orgasm is a quiet one – build up is slow and small, and it doesn’t make you black out – but you whimper nonetheless, the tight embrace of his hands on your body feeling more like a cage than a normal hug. He is too powerful, probably not sure about his strength – you feel him squishing you like a fruit. The slime is leaking from your empty pussy, clenching around nothing. — Obedient. You’d be a good vessel for my eggs, human. You whine, turning away from him. He chuckles, pressing you in his arms again. Like a child with his favorite new toy – you feel squeezed and touched in various places, his tentacles having a mind on their own. Not an inch of flesh getting ungroped. — Ar…are you going to kill me? — Ach. You can talk after all. — Are you going to… — No. Have a much better way to use you. He chuckles in your hair, pressing his face in it. Inhales the scent – if he has nose, of course. This stupid hood conceals everything, not letting you know anything besides his rank. Which makes you think about…

— What is your name? 

A stupid question, really. You shouldn’t care about the name of a monster who bought you – still, you don’t want to refer to him as just “a monster”. This dumb part of your brain wants closure. — König. Remember it, little human. Oh. So his name is König. Somehow, it doesn’t make you feel any better. 

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Bruce has a 'if you can't beat them, join them' mentality about the tabloids claiming he adopts too many kids- Developing foster homes that are paid for through the Wayne inheritance, personally vetted by the Bats, they're the leaders in the space for child health outcomes and family placement. Insert Danny.

---

Bruce has too much wealth, too many rumors and not enough reach into the abhorrent foster homes around Gotham to improve them. Tim ends up being the one to suggest it- He's the one who buys up their real estate for their safe houses after all- and Bruce is more than ready to pull the metaphorical trigger to get new clean welcoming spaces, Bat-background checked fosters and a new era of adoption in Gotham underway.

He's lobbied the state and the federal government for reforms of course, but this is a project he can micromanage. He spends time with every kid that comes through, talks with all the families that want to adopt and makes sure that these miniature homes are provided only the very best. Alfred personally hires all the staff, and with Barbara more than happy to help relocate the unhoused children she spots while they patrol, the project is a glowing success.

Occasionally, spots in their houses fill up, and those are the weeks were Cass takes on the Cowl of Batman- Bruce Wayne will personally invite a child in need to his home. He always has one of his kids present (they rotate on a pre-determined schedule) and he does his best to try and get them to understand that they deserve the world, have all the potential that anyone else has and can achieve a bright future. That he will personally aid them in their ambitions.

PR goes crazy for it of course, but Bruce and all of his children know its genuine. Almost too genuine, because a betting pool 'WILL THEY BE ADOPTED' regularly circulates between the siblings and the entire JL when someone spends time at the manor. And not just the black-haired, Blue-eyed kids get picked as favored outcomes- but obviously the running joke gets passed around.

It's a Thursday night when Bruce gets the call that the houses have once again filled up, and that there is a child in need of a home. The social worker (he knows her as Marsha and he has flowers planned to be sent on her birthday next week, like he does for all of his employees) (Say micromanaged one more time) explains that the kid is a bit cagey but has opened up with some humor. She explains that he has a few strange... mannerisms. She's not sure what to make of him, a non-gothamite for sure but something is, well, distinctly 'not from around here' about his energy.

Danny arrives at the house, meets Duke and Alfred, and by the time Bruce meets him at the dinner table it seems as though Marsha had it all wrong. This kid was laughing, he was teasing, he was totally playing along like he'd gone through nothing. Bruce is glad he's in high spirits but its just so... so different from all the other children he's taken in.

Bruce re-focuses on the conversation when Duke mentions something flashing, and its the first time that Danny goes quiet. Entirely still.

"...you noticed that?" Danny quietly asks, a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"You don't have a flashlight on or something do you? It was super bright whatever it is that you had in your hand a second ago?" Duke tries to sound chill but he's looking very much not chill. Bruce saw nothing, and that puts him further on edge.

"Look... I uh, I've been though... I've been through a lot lately. And the last lab I was in kind of, messed with me. I'm normally much better at dealing with it all, I promise." Danny sounds nervous, and the room seems to chill.

"Ah shoot, sorry." Danny notices something and frantically apologizes.

"Sorry for what Danny? You've done nothing wrong but I am worried about you- You said you were in a lab?" Bruce is desperately trying to calm him down while not slipping into Batman interrogation mode.

"Uh, yeah, like a lot of labs. It should get warmer in a second, its just cause I startled, I promise."

"You're a meta." Duke speaks softly and with hope in his voice- Danny is looking between them with wide eyes filled with fear.

"I mean I don't technically have the gene-"

"Danny, have you told any of your case workers where you were? Do any authorities know what you've been through?" Bruce needs to know, desperately, that who ever gave this young boy super powers is brought to justice. Danny goes quiet.

"I'm really sorry." He says softly, but he doesn't leave them.

Duke and Bruce try to ask a few more questions but the silence that meets them declares the conversation over, even with Duke admitting he himself is a meta. Danny didn't even look up from his plate. They watch a movie after dinner, and Danny seems to get back to the smile-y happy guy he had been before dinner.

Each of the bat-fam have their own interactions with Danny- And even if they're getting along amazingly, Danny won't open up. He doesn't open up to his provided therapist. Doesn't talk to Alfred. No one knows what's up.

So when Marsha calls Bruce back explaining they now have a spot for Danny and he can move out of the Manor... Bruce replies that he'd like to get started on Adoption paperwork, so long as Danny is fine with it.

---

Turns out, Danny is fine with it. he's both the newest Wayne and their newest case. (And godamnit, his new family is going to avenge him. If only he'd let them try.)

Danny figures out that Duke= Signal early on because of that dinner, and if he's going to keep his parents out of jail, he needs to be as close to the investigation as possible. He knows that he shouldn't protect the Fentons, but he feels the upset in his core at the thought of letting them befall any harm. He has to protect them. Has to protect Jazz and her hiding spot as a mole within their lab. Has to.

Even if it meant lying to his new family who loves him, and who he loves in equal return. Even if it means lying to The Bats.

---

Tabloids go crazy about the black-haired blue-eyed thing of course, but no poll was ever taken by the batfam or the JL who know the whole story.

[astraystayyh]

The wedding and the morning after

inspired by that cute twitter trend :,) very soft bang chan fluff. use of wife and husband a lot but they just got married so they get a pass!!!!!

if you guys enjoy reading please leave a reblog or comment it means the world to me <3

Your wedding ceremony with Chan was a simple one. You weren't one for extravagance and neither was he. So you opted for an intimate setting, only inviting your favorite humans in there.

You felt as if everything was more vibrant that day- the colors of the flowers you both hand-picked, the smell of food that wafted through the air, the twinkling lights you had installed because they reminded Chan of your eyes (or so he insisted).

But you knew it had a lot less to do with the decorations, and more with the man you married. Being with Chan was like looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses.

You felt grateful that you were alive because you got to experience being loved by him.

There was music, lots of laughter, and admittedly, tears. You can blame Chan's vows for it. His words rang in your ears throughout the night- how he vowed to love you until his last breath, and long after that.

But he didn't need to make those promises, they were just honorifics. Chan has shown you time and time again that he was in love with you.

You knew by the way he tore down your walls, gently, at your pace, your hand tightly clutched in his. How he deeply cared for you, on your happy days but especially on your saddest.

You and Chan weren't perfect, but you complemented each other like two halves of one heart. You found in him a home, a safe place for you to exist and be loved.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers in your ears while the both of you sway on the dance floor. You could faintly hear the cheers of the boys who were watching you, but you paid no mind to them. All you could focus on was Chan's warm hands on your waist, holding you close.

"So are you", you beam at him. When you looked at Chan, you didn't simply see his beautiful features- his brown eyes, straight nose and plump lips. You saw a warm coffee shop, where you seek refuge on a cold day; you saw a sunset slowly casting down into the sea; you saw a field of tulips stretching into the horizon.

Looking at Chan reminded you of beautiful sceneries, of the smell of earth after the rain, of a hearty soup that fills your insides when you are ill. You saw in him every beautiful feeling you've ever experienced in your life.

"I don't know how I got so lucky", he kisses your forehead gently and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on your skin.

Chan's forehead kisses held a special place in your heart. You always felt them deep within you- as if he was kissing beyond your skin and into your soul.

"I'm the lucky one", you reply, standing on your tiptoes and pecking his forehead back. Chan blushes at your gesture, eyes crinkling closed like half moons. It made your heart sore, how affected he was by your touch even after four years of dating. You liked to believe you'd be seventy and still a giggling mess around each other.

Chan then twirls you around, your laugh echoing around the venue. He thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you laugh this way for the rest of your lives.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"My feet are killing me", you whine to Chan as he parks in front of your apartment. You chose not to rush into your honeymoon, because you wanted to savor the quiet after your wedding, just the two of you. And you couldn't think of a better place to do so than your apartment.

It wasn't a huge one, but it had a makeshift studio for Chan, and a little balcony where you read. You painted the walls blue together and he bought you plants that you water everyday.

It was messy at times, but it was still your home. You knew that no matter what happened throughout the day, you can leave your worries at the door and head inside into each other's safe embrace.

Chan quickly hops to your side of the car, and opens it for you. He takes your heels off, throwing them into the backseat, before scooping you up bridal style.

"I've been dying to do this on our wedding night", he giggles excitedly and you smile, loosely looping your hands around his neck.

"Well now you can, husband."

"Say it again", he smiles as he leads you up to your apartment.

"My husband", you repeat and he quickly leans down to steal a kiss.

Chan opens the door to your apartment, finally placing you on solid ground. He loosens his black tie and you lean against the wall, admiring the view.

"Like what you see?", he teases and you smile mischievously, "This is what I married you for."

"So you are only with me for my looks?", he pouts. You would have thought he looked so adorable if not for him slowly unbuttoning his white shirt.

"I am", you smirk and suddenly, you are thrown over his shoulder. You laugh as he runs towards the bedroom, with you perched on his back.

He then gently places you down on the bed, caging your body with his arms; any hint of playfulness gone from his eyes. His gaze is so intense, you feel a blush creep up your neck. He notices, of course, and he smiles softly at you. "Is my wife getting shy on me?"

"Shut up", you glare playfully at him, and he grins, "Make me."

"You are so cheesy", you giggle as you grab his tie, pulling him down to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"Morning, my love", Chan smiles at you, his hand threading through your hair gently.

"Morning, honey", you smile back, stretching slightly.

"Did you sleep well?", he asks, snuggling closer to you.

"Mhm, like a baby."

"I must have tired you yesterday", he smirks and you glare playfully at him, "Cocky much?"

"And you love it."

You're about to reply when your stomach grumbles loudly. "Is my pretty wife hungry?", he teases and you bite his arm in response.

"I'll take that as a yes", he chuckles, pulling you up with him, "Let's go make you breakfast."

"Make who breakfast?" you singsong and he smiles softly at you. "Make my wife breakfast."

°°°°°°°°°°°°

You are clad in Chan's oversized t-shirt and he's only wearing a pair of black shorts. The view of Chan's back muscles is so enticing you'd almost skip breakfast if you weren't so hungry.

When you are both done cooking, you happily dig into the breakfast while recounting the weddings events- how Hyunjin and Minho got so drunk they ended up confessing their love to each other, how Felix cried during your vows, how Seungmin and Jeongin surprised you with a song cover during your first dance. You can't help but sigh contently at how simple yet loving it felt.

You then wash the dishes while Chan dries them- an easy routine you both fell into as soon as he moved in with you.

You've been married to Chan for a day but you've loved him for what feels like forever.

When the kitchen is clean, you high-five him but he doesn't let your hand go. Instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing you closer to him.

"I love you", he whispers as his thumb slowly caresses your palm.

"I love you more."

"Impossible."

"But-", Chan silences you with his lips on yours, and you both can't help but smile into the kiss.

When he leans away, he bows down slightly, offering you his hand, "May i have this dance?"

You giggle as you curtsy back, "Yes you may."

Chan twirls you around the kitchen and you feel light as air. You then spin him around and you almost lose your balance, but Chan is there to steady you with a gentle grip.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to look around you. The kitchen is bathed in warm, golden light, and the aroma of freshly made coffee fills the air. You can't help but wonder what you'd look like to an outsider, waltzing in the kitchen with no music on.

But as you gaze up at your husband, you don't find it in you to care. You've come to learn that with Chan, even the silence can sound like the most enchanting melody.

[costumersupportdept]

I have developed a Theory that the reason so many theaters seem to have absolutely batshit bureaucratic/management problems is a twofold miasma of stupidity that it takes a lot of willpower/clarity to NOT get sucked into.

1)The Peter Principle/"failing up." Laurence J Peter describes this as "employees (being) promoted based on their success in previous jobs until they reach a level at which they are no longer competent, as skills in one job do not necessarily translate to another. " I, while a pretty good draper (costume patternmaker) and a reasonably good costume team lead, am absolutely abhorrent at dealing with paperwork beyond what I need to do the actual costuming. I do not enjoy or do well with spreadsheets or budgeting or trying to assemble work calendars. I do not want to do jobs that take that.

HOWEVER: Miasma 2.

2) The only way to get paid more is to move up (usually). This means that if I want to make more than I'm currently making at the top of one hierarchy, I have to move into a different one, and that one is the personnel management and spreadsheet one. Since theater is a low paying gig at the best of times, people will generally jump at chances to make more money if they can get them.

Which creates its own twofold nightmare- people who get promoted may not actually know what they're doing in the spreadsheets and personnel end of the world, AND/OR you've just taken a Really Good artist out of the Art end of things and plopped them into the Paperwork end of things, sometimes with a promise that they will still get to Art (spoiler, that rarely works out).

So SINCE theater is a mediocre paying job AT BEST, there's almost an enforced scramble into higher and higher levels *away* from The Art, which means (back to the Peter Principle) you wind up with admin folks who may have been great artists, but are NOT equipped be businesspeople or Leaders of Men (in the generic) at all.

And it takes a LOT of stubborn refusal to budge and boundary drawing to be a person who WANTS TO STAY IN THE ART, because that subtle/sometimes not subtle push upwards for $$ is always happening.

Now, how do we fix it? Well, it's going to have to be a multipronged approcach, but I know we could START with paying the Art Level Folks more to calm down the aggressive climb upwards.

[11cupids-tarot11]

A letter from your future self.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

1 -> 3

DM me for private readings

$5.55 per question!

C@sh app and PayPal payments only!

Tips appreciated

Cash tag- $minnieplant3

Love y'all!

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Pile 1- The star, Two of wands, The devil.

"I think it's time you and I have a talk, I know you know who I'm talking to, yeah I'm talking to myself, but it's not just you and me here, what about little us? Past us? The most important form of ourselves? You haven't been listening to all of us, why? Why do you ignore the child in you who screams to be listened to, to be understood, who just wants to heal like the rest of you. I promise you it's not silly at all to be in tuned with your inner child, I promise you no one's going to hurt you or make you want to hide away again, they can't control your emotions. They only want you to feel so powerless against them, like you're helplessly chained to them, but you have the power to break the chain and run free again, wild. You deserve to follow your dreams, do whatever you want, whatever it is that's been bugging you like a fly in your ear, a project that's always on the back of your mind, the one that just wouldn't go away since you were a child, you can do it, I know you can because I'm already here as proof, but I can't spoil too much. Be creative, shine brightly and never let anyone dim that light. I love you with all my might! ;)

- Me"

Don't forget the poll below!

⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Pile 2- The devil in reverse, Three of wands, Justice.

"Hi buttercup! I hope all is well these days, I've been thinking about you so much these days, well let me explain, I've been thinking about how hard we've worked, how far we've come and what we had to do to be here. I know, it's a lot. I'll often look back a lot and think about how unfair things were, how many people were never on your side, how many battles you've had to win on your own and how many you've had to lose. I'll never forget the day we decided we had had enough of our problems, our addictions, the toxicity and just did something about it, we cut that toxic person off, quit that stupid job or finally changed that damn schedule of yours and did something better for your health. Whatever it was we did it <3 and it paid off so much, I'm so happy we did because it led us to better days, so much abundance, everything we've always deserved. We got the justice we've always been searching for in such a cruel world and I'm so proud of us for doing that baby girl! We never gave up, no matter how much we wanted to, how much we wanted to go back to that same place because it was comfortable and we just got so blind sided we never knew we could do so much more if we just put our mind to it! Go us! Go me! Go you!

Love- The version of yourself you were always meant to be 🩷"

Don't forget the poll below! Love you!

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖.

Pile 3- Six of coins, Ace of wands in reverse, Two of coins in reverse.

"Psst! Remember that project you weren't so sure about? You know the one, well I have a message for you! If you get started with it now I bet you a million bucks you could never guess where you'll be ten years from now. You remember that big house you've always wanted? All of the wealth you've always wanted to share and give back to others? We finally can! We did it! It was always important to give back to the ones we love, to be able to support and live comfortably and we finally did it. Just try not to get too big headed, okay? Remember who you are, where you come from and why you started this in the first place. Don't forget about your loved ones, the ones who supported you through thick and thin. I know your schedule might be busier, just don't forget to find that balance. We're at a very important time in our lives right now, I understand this, but remember to take a break from that damn schedule of yours. Take time for us, okay? I want you to call off as soon as you see a single sign of distress and go to the spa, I promise you're going to need it! ;) "

-Big boss lady (this pile was channeling feminine energy, someone who's in charge of their own business and gives orders to others. Very important business woman vibes here.)

Don't forget to do the poll at the bottom! Love you!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[hoshigray]

random thought, but like Gojo getting a little handsy while the two of you are out together with your friends.

a/n: yeahhhhh I have no excuse, this literally just popped up in my head two days ago, just read lol

cw: Gojo x fem! reader - nothing too sexual, but very suggestive, so minors stay away!! - fingering (f! receiving) - sexual acts in a public area; in a café - other people present but they don't know what's going on - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Gojo putting you through hell but you get your getback :3 - you may [or may not] feel second-hand embarrassment, we shall see.

wc: 1k

"...Then I turned to him and said, 'I know you don't think I'm going to have sex with you after you've done thrown up on my dress.'"

"Nooo, after the dress was how much—"

"Right!! So I nicely shoved him off me and called an Uber to..."

It was a pleasant sunny hour to spend with your friends at a local café not too far away, mingling and catching up with them from the last meetup. It was always a splendid time having moments like this with them.

But what made this time a lot more striking was you bringing your boyfriend over! After many weeks of your friends wanting to meet the guy — not to mention him bugging you about also wanting to see your close buds — you promised to have him tag along for the next in-person meetup. And, low and behold, your partner, Satoru Gojo, wasted no time having your mates attracted to his sociable charisma.

Not that you'd think he'd be out of place — if anything, you knew he'd be able to swoon into their sweet graces. With his dashing smile, alluring sky-blue eyes, and engaging conversations, it was only a matter of seconds before the white-haired man could take your spot and engage with your pals. Shit, it's practically happening right now as you sip on your iced tea while he's listening to one of them reminiscing about a terrible night they had last night.

Nevertheless, you're not complaining. A boyfriend who gets along with your friends is better than not, right? That's why you watch and listen to your friend's story with a smile, happy to know that combining two parts of your world results in new companionships.

That is, until, you feel someone's hand land on your thigh. At first, you paid no mind to the action since it's nothing you're not familiar with when it comes to Gojo. But then that exact hand ventures further down and slowly sneaks past your skirt. Your brows furrow with your inner thoughts. I know this man is not trying to start something right now...And when you feel his slender fingers brush your inner thigh, you get your answer.

Your lips release the straw to your iced beverage, and you slowly lean toward your boyfriend. "Gojo," your tone hushed only for him to hear as your companions seemed preoccupied with a talk of their own.

"Hmm?" The tall other leans a bit for his ears to properly hear your whispers, his face still facing front to your friends.

"Can I ask why your hand is up my skirt in public?" You knew by the playful snicker rumbling his chest that his answer would be far from appropriate for the situation.

"Whaaat~, can't touch the love of my life?" He whispers back to you.

"Can't if we're out in the open at a fricken' café," you hiss with a glare from your peripheral. "Especially with others within—Hmmm." Before you could finish that remark, two fingers brushed on your panties, rubbing gently between your clothed folds. He snickers — both at your stifled response and as a faux reaction to a part of your friend's storytelling.

"Sorry, but I can't help myself when I wanna touch my princess." You notice him peeking at you from behind his dark shades. His fingers form a curling motion, causing your body to slightly jerk and prompt your legs to a further spread. He brings his chin down to your ears, his chuckles easier to interpret their mischievous connotation. "Plus, when did I last see you wear that skirt? Had my eyes on it since you looked at the mirror before we left."

God, I hate his ass so fucking much. "Who said I was wearing it for you?" You retort, wanting nothing but to wipe that dumb smirk off his handsome face. "I wore it because of—Ohhh!!" To your surprise, he swiftly puts his digits inside your panties; the sudden warm contact on the folds of your chasm prompts a sneaky cry.

...A cry so sudden that, of course, your friends stop talking to look in your direction with perplexed expressions. Of course, they would look. Oh, for fuck's sake...

"Uhhh, you okay, Y/n?" One friend blinks while surveying your body language. The other chimes in. "Yeah, you don't look so good; ice tea went the wrong way?"

Quick with your feet, you cough up your answer. "Ahem—Y-Yeah, I'm fine, guys. I was just thinking, ya know," your hand snakes down to Gojo's to pinch the skin, the tall other jolting his hand away from you. And you know he looks to you with pain, yet serves him right. "Since you two are getting along with Gojo, why don't we take him to the mall and show him our favorite spots? He has a good eye on clothes, plus I'm sure he'd like to try the crepe stand in the food court."

The look on your buddies' faces expressed nothing but delight at the idea you pulled out your ass. "That's a great plan, I'm down!" One says while the other nods frantically. "You up for that, Gojo?"

Rubbing his pinched skin, Gojo sends the two a smile. "Sure! I'd love to spend more time with my baby and their friends." He then leans to kiss you, but with a kick to the shin, you turned his face from a lovestruck fool to that of a hurt puppy. Your friends watch as the snow-haired man quivers and puts his forehead on your shoulder for support.

"Hmm? What happened?"

"Don't mind him; he was rocking his chair and probably hit himself with one of the legs." You speak for him as you watch your boyfriend tremble in pain with a smirk on your lips, the two others giggling at your seemingly clumsy man. It's your turn now to whisper to his ear. "That's for that little stunt of yours."

Gojo's laughter seethes through gritted teeth. "Are you really my angel? You're such a meanie...Don't think I won't do it again, princess."

[enviedear]

HONEY DON'T FEED IT, IT WILL COME BACK

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

in which working undercover alongside your ex-boyfriend feels like cruel and unusual punishment. like a feral hound—he keeps coming back into your life.

CW | ex!jason, petty old lovers, miscommunication (prior), reader riling him up, cursing, and somewhat ambigous ending (somewhat). 1.7k words. 🎧ྀི

you have to stop letting yourself get involved with JASON TODD. two years ago, fine. but now, you know better. or you should.

working with him is entirely different than being with him—or that’s what you tell yourself. at least vigilantism allows you to ignore his jeers to focus on dodging attacks, rush ahead of him when he tries to bring up the past, or turn off your comms if he grates on you too much.

unfortunately, you can't pull any of your normal tactics this time. not for this job.

you thought the undercover gig selina offered you was a 'one night only' sort of thing, not an entire week. Your mind could never have conjured spending seven painfully awkward days in a honeymoon suite playing blushing newlyweds with your somehow everpresent ex-boyfriend. either way, your current situation is aggravating beyond whatever you're getting paid for this.

besides his usual mouthing off and brooding, jason's been tolerable. like a bad dog gone old, not sweet—but just tired enough not to bite. you’re so unused to jason being docile, it almost aches. and maybe that's why you've been so...unruly.

unruly enough to snag yourself a date while undercover. you knew it was stupid before you did it, but said yes the minute your eyes latched onto jason's. it was the most of a rise you'd be able to get out of him the entire job. it had felt vindicated in the moment. but you played an idiotic hand, his cards trumping yours. for split second he reacted, but just as quickly as it had appeared—it vanished.

he was good at keeping his calm in public, when he had to. but he always boiled over eventually. always saved for private places and so intense. he can’t help it, you think, being so much. he has to let it out, like a poison.

his composure faded for that split second when you both entered back into the suite, voice low, snide, and angry—all to fizzle out with a huff. "go on your stupid fuckin' date. ruin the whole mission. i don't care."

he had said it so nonchalantly. as if merely speaking to you was utterly beneath him. such a reaction was new. in the year you dated him, and the two years that have followed, you've known jason to get mad. you expect it. you can always count on being able to push his buttons just enough. hell, he could count on doing the exact same to you. but the silence that followed his words, the calm way he sauntered off into the bathroom—that completely destroyed whatever game you'd built up in your head.

you got ready in spite of his strange behavior. did your hair, pulled out one of your prettiest dresses, and dabbed on a perfume he had bought you, still half full and primarily only used for special occasions. you left the room with a slam of the door.

the date was terrible to say the very least. he was loud and with a penchant to only discuss himself or his sports betting. you left before you could get your entrée, making up an excuse and promising to definitely reschedule. too embarrassed to return so soon, you took your time getting back to the hotel. three stops and one impulse purchase of a street hotdog later, you stepped back into your honeymoon suite. a cruel fate.

jason's in the bed, propped up with fluffy white pillows and ignoring you, reading an absolutely tattered hardcover. you neglect to break the silence, opting to take your makeup off in the bathroom. your waterproof mascara peels on your lashes, and you can only take so many seconds of scrubbing before you give up.

you pace around the room a bit, lost in thought as you remove your jewelry. you feel undeniably silly for risking your cover for a vengeful and shitty date. selfishly, you still blame jason for it. maybe if he hadn't whispered, "don't mess this up, act like you like me. people are watching." at a couple's excursion, or on a group hike after you laughed at one of his jokes and he muttered, "not too much, it's not real."

he was always on edge and he took everything so personally. the last two years have been a constant competition with him. a brutal tug of war that neither of you can seem to win. where he goes low, you're ready to go lower.

you're broken out of your trance by a firm grip on your wrist, followed by jason's gruff voice, "stop putting your shit on my side."

you look at him baffled, "it's just earrings. sorry i didn't want to crawl all over you to put them on my nightstand."

"save us both alot of trouble if you just didn't wear 'em." he mutters, grip loosing on your wrist. his eyes don’t leave yours, and there's an eerie firmness in his stare.

you yank yourself away fully and glare down at him, "i wasn't aware my existence bothered you so much."

jason rolls his celadon colored irises, "existing doesn’t bother me. you messing with everything does."

there's a beat of silence. you’re not sure what to say back. there's a dissonance now—and it's too quiet. it feels wrong. you wait for the sardonic retort, the simmering anger under the surface. instead, he sits back relaxed, casually tossing his book aside.

"you went on that date to get under my skin, didn’t you?" his brows narrow and his voice is rough, but there's no fire behind it, just resignation.

"does it matter?" you fire back, crossing your arms over your chest. "you said you didn’t care, remember?"

"yeah, well, i lied." he admits, his eyes finally meeting yours fully, the weight of his words lingering in the space between you.

you stand frozen for a moment, caught off guard by the confession. you’re so used to his biting remarks, the endless back-and-forth. this is new—too straightforward, too honest.

“you lied?” you repeat with an inflection, unsure whether to believe him or not. this could easily be another one of his plays, another way to draw you in and then shove you back out again. the cycle.

he huffs, running a hand through his messy hair before sitting up straighter, hands falling to his thighs. “yeah, i lied. big shocker, huh?” there’s a hint of sarcasm, but it’s mostly exasperation. he’s tired, as if he's finally had enough of the game.

you don’t know exactly what to say. so many little fights, all the times you both pushed and pulled, trying to get a reaction out of each other—it all feels hollow now. the tension’s still there, but it’s shifted, less sharp, and more fragile.

“why?” the earnest question slips out before you can stop it. you don’t know if you’re asking about his lie or why he’s admitting it now, but you ask regardless. too nervous to try and make yourself more clear.

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for once, there’s no mask, literal or physical. just jason. your jason.

“because i do care,” he mutters, almost begrudgingly, like the words are the most difficult thing he's ever faced. “i always fuckin’ care, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? you think i don’t give a damn, but i do. too much, probably.”

jason never talks like this—had never. never let down his walls in this way. perviously the most you got was a huff and a murmured "i'm heading out".

like he’s cracked open a door that’s been locked for years, you’re both standing on opposite sides, unsure of whether to step through or slam it shut.

“then why do you act like this?” you ask, voice softer but still confused. “why do you make everything so hard?”

his lips press into a thin line, and he exhales sharply. “because it’s easier to be pissed off at you than admit how much i miss you. how much i hate seeing you with someone else, even if he's a fuckin' loser.”

“jason—” you start, unsure of what to truly say. a mixture of slight annoyance and reverence sit in your chest, your mind spinning to find the right words, “do you mean this? or are you jealous? because i’m not going to start this up again just for you to push me away when it starts getting serious.”

his eyes narrow, despite himself, “see? much easier when i’m just pissed off at you.” he shakes his head, sighing, “of course i fuckin’ mean it. i don’t lie to you. never have, sweetheart.”

you're still staring him down, the last of your resolve fading out, "you're serious?"

he tilts his head back, eyes closing, "for once, yeah."

you move to sit beside him on the bed, watching your legs bounce instead of replying. jason sits up straighter, and you can see him staring down at you from your peripheral. he's fiddling with his thumbs, a trait you associate with him muddling over his thoughts. probably contemplating exactly what you are: where to go from here?

his fingers brush against yours and he clears his throat, "i don't expect anything. hell—you don't have to want anything to do with me after this." he pulls his hand away from yours slightly, "i'm an ass. i've been angry for... well, a long time. but mostly at myself, for fucking it up with you. and i wanted to tell you."

you take his hand in yours, not missing the way he freezes up at first. still shocked by your comfort. you take a breath before you look up at him, "thank you," you start with what's easiest. "i like it when you care, when you tell me."

he hums, staring down at your interlocked hands.

"i've missed you too, jason. it's no fun pretending i don't." you keep your tone gentle.

a second follows, and then the dam breaks. jason leans into you, resting his head against your shoulder. such a simple gesture, but so unlike jason todd. there's nothing inherently romantic about it, and it's not desperate or solemn—merely human. human vulnerability so rarely displayed willingly.

you don't pull away. you could, and you know you could. but no part of you wants to. you're perfectly fine to sit like this forever. it soothes you in a way you weren't aware you needed soothing.

there's no fight left in either of you, at least none for each other. there's no kissing and making up, no loud voices and slammed doors—nothing like how it once was. just a sincere conversation and baby steps, but in truth, it's the closest you've come to reconciliation in years. and it feels good, healthy—saccharine.

you don't make any promises, nothing set in stone, but you stay like that for a long time. soaking in each other's presence. and when sleep becomes unavoidable, it's jason's arms you ease into.

[allidrawscomics]

I'm sick of being called a "consumer."

There's a scene in the beginning of It where the clown keeps trying to convince the boy to take the paper boat from him. When the boy takes the bait he gets grabbed. I'm that kid and I have no choice but to take the dumb paper boat from these clown ass companies who call me a "consumer." The word 'consumer' sounds like I'm eating their product. I'm using it up all at once the way a fire consumes something. They only need me to take it. They don't care about building a relationship with me as a customer. They don't take pride in providing a product worth buying because the product's quality does not reflect on any one person's work ethic or reputation. It's ok if people hate a company with a revolving door of employees. A CEO can always get hired someplace else. If people don't want to do business with a company the company might find ways around that. Oh you don't want to shop for your groceries at the only grocery store in your food desert? Lol. You don't want to ride in a Boeing plane and you even picked out your flight to avoid one? The airline can just switch planes and they've likely overbooked the flight anyway so it would honestly be more convenient for them if you didn't want to use that ticket you've already paid for. Cable and internet providers will make deals with apartment complexes for exclusivity. You bought tools from Sears because of the lifetime warranty on what your dad told you was a quality brand but they moved manufacturing to China with cheap parts years ago and you will be getting that same ratchet replaced over and over with ratchets that are really just the refurbished ones brought in broken from other customers. I can't opt out of the economy. I don't really go anywhere or do anything. I stay home and draw on outdated software with old equipment and listen to Youtube video essays and read webcomics and try to learn languages with freely available tools. I like paying creators directly when I like their work. But even then, I can't opt out of dealing with puritanical payment processors or social media companies that let AI scrapers ravage my work and the work of all the creators I adore before we even get a we-totally-promise-not-to toggle. We're out here getting eaten alive by a system that has stopped shaming us for "killing" industries that priced us out because they found new ways to exploit us.

We're not the consumers, you fuckers are.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Jealousy

♡ Genre: Hurt/comfort, very fluff ending ♡ Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships, dating (Jealousy on both sides, it's all unfounded so don't worry! You two are loyal like dogs to each other)

Bakugou was the jealous type.

Everybody in the entire country knew that. There was nothing Bakugou hated more than imagining you leaving him for somebody else. You wanted to tease him about it sometimes, but his jealousy made him so distressed that you ended up comforting him instead.

Currently, Bakugou was still seething at the man who last flirted with you. The guy disappeared into the street's crowd under Bakugou's contemptuous gaze. His anger could only be distracted by you and your words.

"It's okay, Katsuki," you said, while hugging him. "I only love you. I didn't even flirt back, you know?"

"...I know," Bakugou said. He kissed you on the lips, somewhat possessively. When he opened his eyes again, he looked so sad. "One of these days I wonder if you're gonna find somebody better than me."

"Katsuki!" You glared at him. "I could never find someone better than you! You are the sweetest, most loyal guy I've ever met! Even if you do have a temper." You giggled, poking his forehead.

"Dummy." Bakugou rested his forehead against yours, his arm close around your waist. "Sorry. Shouldn't have gotten jealous."

"No, it's okay! Always tell me when you're jealous, always!"

That's how most of Bakugou's jealousy fits went. Over time, Bakugou became less and less easily aggravated, but he still had his possessive moments. But no matter what, he'd never take his anger out on you or try to control you out of fear.

Meanwhile, you rarely got jealous of Bakugou, mainly because you weren't the type but also because there wasn't much to be jealous of. Bakugou made it crystal clear to everyone what he did and didn't like, and you were one of the few things included on the "like" list. In fact, you were the only person ever included on the "love" list.

But despite Bakugou's poor reputation with the public, he still occasionally found fans who fawned over him. These fans sometimes made you uncomfortable.

One day, you two were out in public together in a quiet side path of the town, walking between various shops. Coincidentally, you caught some of his fawning fans exiting a store. Bakugou paid them no attention but you couldn't take your eyes off of the potential "predators" on your relationship. The fans soon passed but not without some loud screeching and several pictures taken without Bakugou's permission. Initially it irritated Bakugou, but you noticed by the end of it he was paying more attention to you.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, seriously. You two walked in the opposite direction of the fans, their voices getting less loud with more distance.

"Of course not..." you lied. "They're just random fans, it doesn't matter."

You didn't want him to tease you for this. This was one of the few times you had to deal with jealousy, and it took you off guard. It was irrational too, and you knew it. Still, you didn't always like being actively reminded that Bakugou could be wanted by others.

Bakugou wasn't having this. He stopped you in the middle of the side path you walked down, his expression focused.

"Don't be jealous, alright?" he said. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted. "And don't deny that you are jealous! I've been jealous of you tons of times, so I can recognize that shit anywhere. But it's just your mind playing tricks on you. You're still the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I only go for the best, ya hear me?" He started beaming at you, and you could tell he really meant it. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than go back on my promises to you."

That did warm your heart. He caught your lips turning up and his hand brushed against your cheek, but you still shied away from him.

"I just don't get why you chose me," you said. "You've got so many fans. Sometimes I wonder if there are better options for you out there..."

"I fucking doubt it. I have the best judgment and the best taste, so if I chose you, that fucking means something. It means you're as great as me... or better. Now don't go saying that negative stuff about my girlfriend. Or else."

"O-okay! Alright!"

You didn't know what the heck he could be threatening you with, but you didn't want to find out. Regardless, he still looked after you and made sure nothing the fans did ever bothered you. He would never tease you for your jealousy, because he personally knew how much it hurt. You were one of the few people he could trust, and because of that you two were dead loyal to each other no matter the odds.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

When they misunderstand and kiss your cheek - svt 97z

💋Who; Seventeen 97z (individually) x reader 💋What; lil fluff reactions 💋Wordcount; 1.9k 💋Warnings; Very minor profanity.

Read the other versions here; 95z - 96z - Maknae3

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- That's it! The last of the series! Ah, these were cute and fun to write, even if I wasn't always in the right headspace to write lil fluff pieces, I still enjoyed the process. Thank you to everyone who showed love to these, I appreciate every one of you 💖

💋Seokmin💋 For as long as you can remember, you've always wanted to go to a photo booth with someone important to you and take some fun and cute photos to get printed on a little strip and treasure them. You don't know why exactly you want to do it so much, nor why you've never done so before when the booths are pretty common, it's just never happened. And if there's anyone you know will do it with you without question, it's Lee Seokmin. So one day you send him a mood board with a few photosets on it and tell him you want to do that with him. As suspected, Seokmin doesn't even ask a question besides "when?" A few days later, the pair of you are excitedly rushing through the shopping centre to the booth he promises you has the best filter options as if he's some kind of photo booth expert. Though he does turn out to be correct, at least as far as you're aware because there are some really cute filter options which you're excited to try. It goes exactly how you expect for a while, the two of you grinning pressed together on the bench and making funny faces and dramatic poses for the camera. Clearly, Seokmin had really paid attention to the photosets you sent him because he's leading you into some of the poses you can recall. You don't remember them all because honestly, you hadn't paid that much attention to the specific photos and just the general vibe. So you really hadn't noticed that most of the sets you sent him included some kind of cute cheek kiss photo. Therefore, Seokmin really can't be blamed for thinking you want that particular pose seeing as it featured so much. A pose you hadn't even noticed. Unbeknownst to you, Seokmin has been working himself up to this the entire time, the whole morning really. It feels like a big move, to kiss your cheek even if he's most certainly kissed most of the guys' cheeks many times. But this feels pretty fucking monumental, honestly.

You're just about to ask him if he wants to add a filter when he starts to lean in after taking a quick inhale to steady his nerves, the clicker in his right hand ready. The photo he happens to take is frankly, hilarious. He hadn't expected you to turn to talk to him right then and you certainly had not expected him to kiss you so what he winds up capturing when he presses the clicker is both of you wide-eyed and lips touching. "Uh," Seokmin starts when he gathers himself and leans back rapidly, cheeks flaming red in a way that matches yours. "I didn't know you were turning." "I didn't know you were…leaning in?" You look genuinely bewildered. "What exactly were you doing?" "Kissing your cheek?" His statement curves up into a question as your expression only grows more puzzled by his words. "Like-like the photos!" "What?" "The photosets all have a cheek kiss photo!" "They do?" He nods rapidly. "Oh, I didn't even notice." He deflates a little, well a lot really, you can see the way his embarrassment rapidly turns to disappointment. "You didn't want me to kiss your cheek?" "Well, I mean, I'm not opposed if you want to." You shrug lightly, trying to play it off as you slide your gaze aside to look at the screen shyly, though you immediately start to laugh at the large photo of you two staring in shock at each other with your lips brushing. "What?" Seokmin looks at the screen and starts to laugh. "We have to print that one." He giggles. "Our first kiss." "First?" "Uh-" He looks at you with wide eyes in alarm, he really had not meant to say that. "It's not even a real kiss." You point out then reach out to gently tug him closer by the collar of his t-shirt. "How about a real kiss this time?" "Seriously?" You nod and then can't help but giggle when he enthusiastically cups your neck with his free hand to lean in quickly. "Don't laugh." He whines. You vaguely register the sound of the booth taking photos. He's looking at you adoringly despite his whine, not that you know that yet, but you will when you have the proof in your hand when Seokmin insists on printing all of the photos you've taken. "You're so eager, it's cute." "I've wanted to kiss you for so long, sweetheart, of course, I'm eager. don't you want to kiss me?" He pouts and you're not entirely convinced it's entirely an act. "Come here, idiot." You tug him in the remaining gap to press your lips to his. Seokmin doesn't forget to press the clicker to capture your first real kiss, though he does very quickly drop it to hold your face and put all of his focus into kissing you breathless.

💋Mingyu💋 A brand Mingyu has an advertisement deal with has sent him a package of their newest products and of course, he shares them with you as you have different skin types and the brand always sends him one of everything to try. So you're both sat on the floor in his living room, headbands on to keep your hair out of your faces and the collection on the coffee table in front of you with two little mirrors. A few minutes ago, he handed you the moisturiser that is apparently designed for your skin type, though you think something has gone very wrong with their formula as it has not dried well at all. Your skin feels all sticky and tacky to the touch, it's pretty gross and you certainly won't be using that again. Mingyu looks over when you mumble his name, his own skin shining with the drying moisturiser he has just finished diligently applying. And he finds you pouting while pressing your cheek slowly. To him, it looks like you want something and all he can think is that you want a kiss on the cheek. Although his stomach is fluttering with nerves at the sudden suggestion, he still shuffles a little closer so that he can lean over and press a kiss to the apple of your cheek. However, when he pulls back, he feels the tackiness on his lips and pulls a slightly disgusted expression while settling back into place and grabbing the packet of face wipes the company supplied. "You're sticky." He comments, tone as impressed as his face shows, which means, not at all. You stare at him for a second then nod slowly. "Yes, I am aware, that's what I was trying to tell you." Mingyu blinks at you dumbly, one hand raised to his mouth as he wipes the sticky residue from his lips. He lowers his hand a little to talk. "Not to kiss your cheek?" "Not to kiss my cheek." Immediately, Mingyu's cheeks flush with embarrassment and he directs his attention back to the mirror to wipe at his lips a little harder around a kind of muffled "oh, sorry." "It's okay," You mumble and hold your hand out. He glances at it and almost takes it into his own, momentarily assuming you want to hold hands but then he puts the packet of wipes on your palm and blushes darker. "I didn't mind." You assure softly as you turn to your own mirror and work on wiping away the product on your skin. "Oh." Mingyu tries not to grin dopily at what is essentially permission to kiss you again. As soon as you're done cleaning your skin, his lips find your cheek again, this time followed by a cute little shy giggle before he hands you a different product to try.

💋Minghao💋 Lately, when you both have a spare few hours, you and Minghao have been watching a fantasy drama full of cute romantic tension between the two main leads. Neither of you had realised just how romance-focused the show is when you started and at first thought it might be a bit weird to watch so many kissing and suggestive scenes together, but it's not been as bad as either of you assumed. In fact, you both find yourselves playfully mimicking the actors quite a lot, it helps to remove the tension that builds otherwise. A tension that has been growing thicker and more obvious over the past months between the pair of you, both of you are aware of it but aren't sure if making a move is wise. You both value your current relationship and ease far too much to want to risk it. Though it comes to a head one afternoon when you're both sat on his couch tucked up under the same blanket with your snacks and the AC on because it's not cold at all, the blanket just feels too cosy and you're used to sharing it from this routine starting in winter. Of all the scenes to cause something to happen between you, it's a very cute one, with no suggestive remarks, and no tension on screen. The main female lead skips up to the main male lead and silently asks for a kiss by cutely pouting and turning her cheek towards him. Of course, he kisses her cheek and that's that, they share an adoring smile and go about their business. Without even thinking about it, you copy her action, pouting and tilting your cheek, just because you think it's a cute action and are used to copying the actors at this point. You really hadn't expected Minghao to be paying you any attention and to follow along. But then his lips are on your cheek and you freeze momentarily. "I think you do it cuter." He informs smoothly as he leans back and gently turns you to face him with his long fingers pressed tenderly against your jaw. Your eyes lock and despite there having been so many chances before now, so many moments full of pure tension, this is the moment that changes everything. "Can we stop pretending that we're going to be able to be friends for the rest of our lives?" "We're not going to be friends?" You reply quietly, heart thumping and certain you know what this means but you don't want to skip any scenes of your own love story. "I still want to be friends, yes, I care about you too much and love being friends with you to not be friends. But I want to be more," "Best friends?" You can't help but tease. Minghao's face drops for a second into his trademark unimpressed expression but he quickly breaks and chuckles. "Best friends and romantic partners sounds perfect to me. What do you say?" "I say it's about time." "Then can I kiss you somewhere else this time?" "Xu Minghao!" You gasp scandalised in the most theatric of ways. "We've just started our relationship and you're already trying to get me in bed, what would-" He cuts you off by leaning in and slotting his lips against yours. You giggle happily and tilt into the kiss. "Are you going to be this dramatic our whole relationship?" He hums when the short kiss breaks, brushing his nose against yours with a fond smile on his lips. "I am. Regret this yet?" "I can never regret you." And to prove his point, he kisses you again with all the months of pent-up affection spilling out to seep through your parted lips and down into your chest, filling it entirely as your own affection fills his in return.

A/N- I think I have ruined myself with the Hao one, why did I make it so soft and sweet omg

[beautyinsage]

wants and needs

you got married because it was convenient — why not enjoy the benefits that come with it?

gojo x reader.

cw: arranged marriage au, you don't particularly like each other but the sex is good, (yes you've had sex before), (no this is not an enemies to lovers type beat), (more like just good sex between two people who happen to be married!), banter, sexual tension, lowk public-sex public-flirtation, unprotected sex, maaajor exhibition kink

"what the hell are you doing here?”

“last time i checked, sweetheart, the invitation was addressed to mr. and mrs. gojo satoru.”

"that wasn't the question."

"and yet, that's my answer."

you tsk your tongue in annoyance. “i told you that i would take care of this one.” that's what always happens. you and your husband aren't particularly fond of these soirees—him more so than you—and you often switch off on being the representative. never before have the two of you attended the same event. that is, until now.

satoru raised an eyebrow in amusement at your attitude. “yeah? well if you hadn't rushed out of the house this morning, you would know that i was coming and i could’ve picked you up on the way. shame.” you roll your eyes and start to move away, but he snakes an arm around your waist, shifting so he can lower his mouth to your ear. “though, the delay did have its perks—the dress compliments you beautifully.”

you cheeks warm, but you stare straight ahead, your voice far more nonchalant than you felt, “really? that’s good. you paid for it.”

he pulls back, and he meets your smirk with an amused grin, “oh? get yourself a few more then.” his hand then shifts upward, and you feel his thumb swipe over your breast lightly: subtle to a viewer, but as subtle as a gun to your nerves. despite your shock at his boldness, you have to resist the overwhelming urge to press into him.

part of you wanted to be furious. you were in public. at a high-class function. with everyone you could possibly know all in one room. he was insane.

but… on the other hand—

his thumb swipes over your breast again, this time pressing the slightest bit harder.

—it was all so incredibly hot. 

“satoru—“ you whisper, every inch of your skin burning as you wanted to be closercloser—

“did you know that you only call me by my name when you’re pissed off or you want me to fuck you? in this moment, it actually seems like it’s both,” he snickers menacingly, and you open your mouth, ready to snap at him, when one of the elders approaches him.

“gojo-san! you show up twenty minutes late to an event we specifically told you not to be late for—“

satoru laughs easily, completely pretending as if he hadn't just promised you the most sinful things. he slips his hand back down to your lower waist before effortlessly engaging with the man’s griping. 

gulping lightly, you refocus, blurring out the impossible want flowing through your veins, and paste on the realest fake smile you can muster. you just need to get through the night.

-

you did actually get through the night. most of it anyways.

the whole event went smoothly. the heat was practically palpable between you and satoru, but both of you kept your cool until it was over.

but now, skip ahead, when you're driving home: the two of you were in a car, in the back seat, sitting on opposite sides, both looking straight ahead.

hence the "most of it" part.

now, all that felt palpable was the awkwardness. the haze of lust and want demanded attention, and any attempt of deflection would not be tolerated. and yet, you were stuck, in a car, with satoru — well, satoru and your driver.

you bounced your knee as you impatiently checked for the millionth time to see if you were any closer to home. 

(you weren’t.)

these were the moments that you wished you could just warp home with him—damn the awful migraines that result from it—but you knew satoru would never allow it without good reason (unfortunately, sex is not a good enough reason for him).

desperate to fill the silence and pass the time, you look over to the person driving you home.

“different driver today?” you ask satoru, tense as you squeeze your legs together, pressing as close to the side door as possible.

“ah, yeah, gave ijichi the day off today.”

“oh,” you murmur, your tone almost introspective as you glance at him for a second, “interesting.”

there’s a terse pause, where satoru looks at you intensely as you fix your gaze straight. his eyes don’t leave the side of your face as he says to the driver, “haru? roll up the partition please, thank you.”

the divider goes up and silence engulfs the two of you. satoru shamelessly breaks it, calling your name knowingly. you refuse to take his bait and continue to stare straight ahead. 

he says it once more, dragging out the last syllable as he leans closer. 

you huff, turning your head, but your indignant response falls short under his gaze. 

you knew that look. 

it was the look that you thought about on the more lonely nights, in your bedroom with your fingers between your thighs. it was the look that made you melt, made you always crawl back for more. it was the look that meant that he wanted to fuck you—now. 

(you also knew, with that look? it was only a matter of time before you said yes.)

unable to form any words, you simply nod your head, and then he is on you. he grips the side of your face and brings his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. 

his hand moves to grope roughly at your breast, squeezing slightly. you break away to choke out a moan, and he presses his lips down your neck. moving quickly, he pulls down the strap of your dress to expose your very thin bra. impatient as ever, his mouth is on your nipple through the fabric, and you whimper and press closer to him. 

your eyes fall shut as you bask in the lust. it was always him. only he could reduce you to this. 

grabbing your opposite leg, satoru shifts you onto his lap, a hand gently guiding your head so you wouldn’t bump it as you adjusted. your dress’ skirt pooled around the two of you, and with both hands, he grinds you down onto him. your barely clothed clit makes contact with his cock straining against his trousers. 

you fly forward, muffling your moans against satoru’s neck as he rocks you against him. he snickers lightly, shifting you down for a second so he could unbutton his pants and pull down his briefs slightly. his cock was ready for you, practically pulsing in his hand. “you know baby, the partition is soundproof. you can be as loud as you want.” he strokes himself a few times before pressing his tip against your clit, teasing lightly. “unless, of course, you wish that it wasn’t?” 

you want to protest, to tell him to shut up and go to hell, but all that escapes a surprised moan as he lifts you, swipes your panties to one side, and presses you back down to his cock. 

you both moan at the feeling, the tension haunting you the entire night making it so that all he had to do was simply slip into you. god, it felt like you could feel every inch of him — and you couldn’t get enough. “satoru—“ you whine, thrusting shallowly, trying to get more friction.

“what?” he says satirically, caressing his fingers up and down the length of your back.

you glare, and although you’re sure your pout and blushing cheeks take away from the intimidation factor you were going for, his gaze softens.

“oh sweetheart, i’m being too mean. let me fix that.”

nothing in this world could have prepared you for what was next, because next thing you knew, the man was fucking up into you perfectly, stroking you just right, grinding you down onto him flawlessly. your hiccups of pleasure were leaving you before you could stop them, and you gripped a hand into his hair as the other dug into his expensive suit jacket desperately—with the way your nails latched on, you wouldn't be surprised if a bill was waiting for you in the morning (it's okay—you both knew you would never pay it).

“god, you’re so fucking sexy baby,” he mumbles, sounding practically drunk as he speaks, “make me wanna fuck you in front of everyone today—make me wanna show everyone how good you are for me. how good you always are. you’d like that, wouldn't you?”

embarrassment was apparently thrown out the window three blocks ago because you sob out a wanton yes and squeeze him tightly. you feel yourself climb exponentially higher.

“ohh, baby, you like that, don’t you? you want me to show them who you belong to? or do you want to show everyone who i belong to hmm?”

he laughs breathily as you conveniently decline to answer, focusing more on the rapidly approaching peak, “that’s okay sweetheart, i’m yours. and you’re mine. my little wife, understood? now be good and take my cum.”

it was over before you could stop it. you stutter out a brief “satoru�� c-cumming!” before you shatter, mouth falling open as you breathe in little gasps. clenching tightly, your hips start to jerk as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

the sudden tightness makes satoru curse as his thrusts get impossibly harder, head tilting back as he chases his high. “fuck—fuck, gonna cum, gonna fucking cum—ah, ah—fuck i’m cumming—“

his lips immediately latch onto yours as he climaxes, groaning as he paints your walls with his cum, and you both work each other down from your respective highs. 

the car feels suddenly quiet as both your gentle pants fill the air. your eyes meet, and you're suddenly reminded that this man is your husband. what he offers you isn't a want — it's a need.

you need your husband. there's no one else who can do this—no one else who can make you feel this alive.

suddenly, satoru's eyes widen and a pained groan escapes him. “fuck, i’m going to have to fire this guy.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, confused at first, but then you realize. panic mixed with embarrassment mixed with an inexplicable aftershock of pleasure begins to bloom inside your chest.

“yeah,” he admits, scratching his head almost innocently, “i lied. the divider isn’t soundproof.” 

[lowkeyremi]

When you deny them a kiss <3 ft. Tsukki, Kyotani, Komori, and Semi

CW: Tsukki and Kyotani are a lil bit aggressive but it’s the loving kind so dw 😌 (implied fem reader)

Tsukishima Kei

“Kei! I’m going shopping with friends!” You yell slipping your shoes on to leave. Your boyfriend shows up out of nowhere.

“When will you be back?” He practically whines and it makes you giggle. His footsteps are quiet as he walks up to hug you. “It won’t be that long maybe two hours?”

He pouts at that. (UGH I LOVE CLINGY TSUKKI)

“Okay… don’t be gone too long.” He goes to kiss your forehead and you lean back. Simply just because you wanted to see how he’d react.

He frowns, why didn’t you let him give you a goodbye kiss?

“If I don’t get to kiss you then you won’t go.” He hoists you up and you wrap your legs around his waist so you don’t fall.

“Kei! It was a joke! I just wanted to see how you’d react.” You quickly peck his lips and he decides it isn’t enough. He grabs your face (gently) and pulls you into a deep kiss.

Once you two are out of breath you break the kiss and he smiles at you all hazy, “‘kay now you can go.”

“You are so needy.” You roll your eyes playful at him.

——————

Kyotani Kentaro:

He sat at the table with you reading the monthly volleyball magazine. You were finishing up some work on your laptop that has been weighing you down for awhile. Kyotani lets out a grunt and your eyebrow quirks. "What's up with you?"

He grunts again like he's upset you don't already know why he's upset. "You haven't given me a kiss at all within the last 24 hours." He explains with complaint laced in his voice. You shut your laptop and walk toward your kitchen to get a snack.

"I'm trying to finish my paper, Ken. I've waited too long to do it and it's due tomorrow." The fridge air chills your skin causing goosebumps to form. Your eyes scan the fridge wondering what you should get for a snack. "Should I make those Pillsbury cinnamon rolls or just eat the mac n cheese I made yesterday?" You ask him and you're met by silence. He must be pissed if he's not answering. "You want hamima chicken?" You ask trying to lure him into your trap. "Not falling for it. I want a kiss." He argues.

A sigh escapes your lips, because you know if you end up kissing him it could turn into more and you need your focus to finish this paper. "When I'm done with my paper we can kiss all you want." Usually your persuasion would work but Kyotani seemed to not be falling for it.

The oak chair legs squeak on the floor when Kyotani gets up from the chair. He stomps over to you, spins you around, and plants his lips onto yours, hard. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you open your mouth to let him in.

You had to push him away when his hands started wandering down to your waist. "Later... I promise." You assure him and he smirks at you. "You better keep that promise." Your boyfriend squeezes you in a hug and you squeeze back.

"Love you, Ken." The soft confession slips from your lips. His face is buried in your neck and he mumbles, "Love you too, beautiful."

——————

Komori Motoya:

His head was in your lap because the two of you were watching a movie together like you always did on Friday evenings. The little shit known as your boyfriend lifted his head to look at you, there was that mischievous smile on his face.

"I did some research on how to french." he wiggles his eyebrows and you let out a soft chuckle.

"'Toya that's so random." you mention softly, the movie continued and you want to pause it because this was the movie you've waited months to see.

"Is not! The couple in the movie just kissed." He reasons and you remind him that they aren't even together yet. This seemed like your way of denying him a kiss, but he wasn't giving up just yet. This is the same man that intially tried to get the Sakusa Kiyoomi to date someone and after years of trying his efforts paid off.

"C'mon please? We haven't even kissed with tongue yet." he begs and you are relentless tonight.

"What about that time after prom when we were drunk because someone spiked the punch?" you ask without taking your eyes off the tv. You and Komori have been an icon for quite some time now. Kiyoomi kept telling him to break up w you because an athlete/college student relationship wouldn't work out.

You two stayed strong even in times of trouble. And here you guys are today, its not always rainbows and butterflies but it works. It gets hard when Komori isn't around to comfort you.

"That does not count as a real kiss with tongue, neither of us knew what the hell we were doing." He huffs and you smile.

"You can french me when the movie's over, I've really been looking forward to this one." Your words seem to be suffice because his head finds your lap again and you unconsciously massage his scalp.

As soon as the credits roll he's on top of you and the smirk that lands on your face makes him wanna kiss it off.

"You're so pretty, honey bun." he says.

"Just kiss me already." You don't have to tell him twice. His lips ghost over yours and he leans in so your lips meet. He always thought it was cute how your lips were slightly chapped. (can we normalize/romanticize chapped lips or is that a no no 😭)

His tongue slipped into your mouth and you happily obliged opening your mouth for him. The kiss lasted a little longer than you expected the only reason you pulled away was to breath.

"I'll always get what i want, be it a kiss or the pretty girl in front of me." he says confidently.

You smirk and shake your head, "you are such a little brat sometimes."

"Your little brat," he adds.

——————

Semi Eita:

"Mhm, that works.. uh-huh thank you so much. Okay, take care." Semi hung up the phone and turned to you where you were playing on the ps4.

"I'm done with work for today, do you wanna watch a movie?" He asks standing up from his desk and taking a few seconds to stretch. It's surprising his legs aren't cramping due to sitting for so long.

"Yeah, let me finish this up real quick." He smiles at how concentrated you look playing the game.

"Alright, I'll go get movie snacks," he informs and moves to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. You lean away from his inviting presence. "Not right now, Eita. I'm really close to beating this level."

Instead of voicing his opinion on the matter he walked out. Guilt pooled at your stomach as he walked out of your shared office room.

Once your level was finished you made sure to put everything back in its place and turn off everything.

You'd been waiting all day to embrace your boyfriend which made the anticipation even higher. Upon reaching the living room you see your boyfriend cuddling and kissing your puppy on her head.

He noticed you, "since my girlfriend won't kiss me, I have to give kisses to the best girl in the whole world."

Your puppy seemed to understand him in some type of way and she wagged her little tail.

"Eita, you've been denying me kisses all day, it was a taste of your own medicine!" You explain walking over to give him a quick peck.

"I want more than a little peck." A smirk grows on his face.

His lips capture yours and you feel the same spark you felt during your first kiss. His hands start to roam but not for long because your little girl starts barking and trying to tear you guys apart.

"Jealous, much?" Semi asks the puppy which makes you giggle.

[swarvey]

when you've moved on | elliott x gn!reader | part two

summary -> he slowly lost interest in you after you got married. now he watches you fall back in love with someone else. warnings -> very slight mention of nsfw, implied age gap, mainly just angst! wc -> 1106

a/n: i swear i keep trying to write for the bachelorettes but then get inspired with an idea for the bachelors :') anyways have this, decided to do elliott since he's "so much older and wiser" iykyk.

this was inspired by the dialogue you get when your hearts with your sdv spouse gets low, except i flipped the tables :) lmk if you guys want to see this as a series!!

part one -> the way i loved you (sebastian)

tolerate it -> "what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins?"

elliott's pen hovers over the page in front of him, unmoving for the past ten minutes now. his grip tightens, knuckles white in frustration as he finally releases it, falling back in his chair with his eyes closed as it clatters onto his table.

his writer's block has never been worse, and it's because all he can think of is you.

more so, his loss of you.

no matter how many times he replays the scenario in his head, he can't make sense of how he lost you. he still remembers his wedding day, how he couldn't help but tear up at the sight of you approaching him down the aisle.

"you said you wouldn't cry," you'd teased him.

"i said i would try, my dear," he responded, touching your cheek gently, "but how can i not? your beauty is otherworldly today."

he remembers his vows, his promise to always be by your side. he remembers kissing you like his life depended on it. he remembers going home with you that night, in disbelief that he could finally call you his as he pulled his hair into a bun, mermaid's pendant hitting his bare chest as he dragged you to the bedroom.

"i love you, y/n," he'd said after, both of you panting in exhaustion and satisfaction beside each other. "more than anything else in this universe. i wouldn't trade you for a hundred iridium bars."

you'd laughed, turning your head to look at him with shining eyes and pink cheeks. "really? how about a thousand?"

"nor a thousand."

"ten thousand?"

"not even ten thousand bars, no."

". . . how about a hundred thousand?"

"no, not even a hundred thousand bars!" he'd turned to you then, wide-eyed and holding back a grin at the sight of your scheming gaze. "my love, let's be reasonable—"

"what about a million bars?"

"wha . . . a million bars of pure iridium . . . ? dear, don't make me do this . . ."

"a-ha!" you'd said, sitting up in bed suddenly. "so you would!"

"i never said such a thing!"

at the sight of his pout, you had sprawled yourself on top of him, planting a kiss on his nose as he looked down at you with a smile.

"i love you, too, el."

elliott sighs, his head falling forward into his hand. one part of him wishes to hear you utter those words again; the other prays he'll one day forget you ever said them.

the first few seasons after the wedding had been dreamlike — elliott had never felt so full of life before. it was like being with you had opened his eyes to how colorful and bright the world could be. sometimes he would wake up before you and admire your sleeping figure, a soft smile appearing on his lips every time he caught a glimpse of your necklace.

he doesn't remember when the spark began to fade, though.

no, he only recalls the days he began to leave the farm early in the morning to spend time alone in his old cabin on the beach, coming back only for dinner. the two of you would eat quietly, sitting at opposite ends of the table. he would ask and answer questions shortly, mainly focusing on the dull, uninspiring feeling he seemed to get every time he was in your shared house.

he never noticed the sad look filling your eyes, begging him to pay attention to you, to show you the love he once had for you. he paid no mind to how your face lit up every time he came home, only to deflate as he walked past you. he never even thought about how your conversations with him had turned one-sided, as he would spill his troubles to you without even giving you a chance to share yours.

not until it was too late, that is.

". . . do you still love me?"

it was a question he never thought he would hear from you, and yet he'd unknowingly driven you to that point. elliott had never heard silence so loud until then, realizing that, for some reason, he couldn't answer your question.

"answer me, elliott," you'd said, voice wavering as he uneasily met your eyes. "i need to know this. i feel like you've been treating me like a kid lately — when i talk to you, i can barely get a word out without you lecturing me. you're barely home to even do that anymore."

he scoffed. "please, y/n, be reasonable," he had replied, the same words he had said that night after professing his love to you. "i've simply been a bit caught up lately, that's all. i need my own time to write."

"seriously? that's what you're going to say?" you shook your head, crossing your arms as you looked at him pleadingly. "why are you acting like this? do you seriously think being a bit older than me justifies how you've been treating me?"

"that has nothing to do with our situation," he snapped sharply, then sighed. "please, can we go to bed? i'm tired of this." he started towards the bedroom door, leaving you behind him.

"you never answered my question."

he stopped.

"it's okay, el," you'd whispered. "i had a feeling i already knew. i was just hoping you would at least be able to tell me."

so now, here he is. unable to finish the sequel to his novel because he'd dedicated the first one to you, and what's the point of writing a second one if you're no longer by his side?

what's the point if you have sebastian now, who spends every second with you? who is much younger than him and rides a motorcycle? who gives you a mermaid's pendant — a year after the two of you separated, by the way — and makes sure the entire town can make it to your wedding?

he doesn't know what you see in him. sure, his passion for music is a bit admirable, but can he really treat you properly? there's no way seb can make you smile, make you laugh, make you cry out of pure joy or pleasure like he did.

elliott had attended the wedding, of course, so he could make sure you were happy.

he most certainly wasn't hoping to see a twinge of hesitation, maybe even regret in your eyes as you walked down the aisle again.

as elliott abandons his writing and heads out the doorway of his cabin, the image of you happier than he'd ever seen you while passionately kissing sebastian is burned into his mind.

you are no longer his, and it's entirely his fault.