#its the worst when i share creativity

[a-pirate]

I think one of my worst traits is not believing people. Thinking "they're just saying that and don't mean it."

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers. 

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.  

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette. 

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax. 

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.  

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks. 

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too. 

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day. 

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.  

She wants...my name.  

My name.  

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy. 

How fucking dare they. 

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it. 

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets. 

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.  

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?” 

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.” 

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.” 

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off. 

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.” 

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger. 

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand. 

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked. 

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.” 

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.” 

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you. 

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup. 

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.” 

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile. 

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked. 

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.” 

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you. 

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess. 

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it. 

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-” 

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped. 

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire. 

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance? 

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added. 

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.” 

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last. 

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning. 

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.  

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”  

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort. 

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.  

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful. 

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”  

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club. 

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”  

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair. 

“Spill it” you demand.  

“Spill what?” 

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.” 

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.” 

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”  

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend. 

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance. 

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul. 

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.  

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration. 

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible. 

“We love each other. That won’t happen.” 

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.  

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-” 

Ding 

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag. 

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.  

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability. 

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word. 

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things. 

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.” 

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal. 

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.” 

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles. 

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort. 

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone. 

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?” 

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion. 

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-” 

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.  

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.” 

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you. 

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.  

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.  

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.” 

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk. 

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest. 

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics. 

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen. 

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt. 

“Ajax.” 

“Hm?” 

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete. 

You unfurl the cover. 

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.  

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry: 

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing  my sun and star        ♡    my blood and bone           ♡  ♡ my goddess, my angel,   the very essence of my existence     ♡        ♡     my love is infinite and eternal   you are destined to be mine   ♡     ♡        forever, forever she is mine ”  

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.  

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile. 

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.” 

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage. 

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up. 

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf. 

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock. 

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.  

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.” 

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.  

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.” 

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney. 

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?” 

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.” 

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” 

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise. 

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.” 

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back. 

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums. 

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.” 

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.  

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.  

“You mind making another, Lyney?” 

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.  

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?” 

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.” 

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.” 

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely. 

“How many times must I apologize?” 

“Until you die.” 

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”  

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.” 

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours. 

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”  

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race. 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.” 

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.” 

“It was a surprise.” 

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Yeah, from back home.” 

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.” 

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.” 

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.” 

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-” 

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-” 

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.  

“Excuse me?” 

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.  

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-” 

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp. 

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.  

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.” 

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege. 

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.  

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run. 

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him. 

“Ajax?” 

“Yea?” he chirps.  

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek. 

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.  

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him. 

“No baby,  nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin. 

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips. 

“Am I not good enough for you?”  

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on. 

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.” 

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.” 

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves. 

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight. 

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost." 

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers. 

“You don’t need…me?” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-” 

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle. 

“What if I just...lock you up?” 

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs. 

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”  

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant. 

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical. 

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.” 

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.” 

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.  

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.” 

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.  

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.  

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.  

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair. 

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion. 

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back.  Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes. 

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.  

“Ajax.” 

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body. 

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.  

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.  

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips. 

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.  

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.  

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy. 

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s  ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud. 

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.” 

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.  

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.” 

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand. 

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question. 

“Of course.” 

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing. 

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length. 

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!” 

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.  

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.  

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel. 

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.  

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”  

No. It can’t be true. 

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.  

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.  

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?” 

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard. 

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

[sreidisms]

Stress Release

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!GN!Reader

Summary: Spencer needs you to take care of him after a rough couple of days at his new job.

Genre: smut

Word Count: 861

Warnings: pegging, reader is GN but uses a strap-on so?? afab implied, slight cum play, slight overstimulation if you squint, many many pet names (sweet boy, love, sweetheart, darling, baby).

A/N: I needed something to get my creative juices going because I've been in the worst writing slump of my life, so enjoy this quick little blurb of the cutest, subbiest Spence <3

Spencer was splayed out on your shared bed, his previously-gelled hair tousled and spread out on the fresh sheets like a halo around his head, however juxtaposing the current situation he was in - it was far from holy as your strap-on was gliding in and out of him with lewd ease.

The excuse from your boyfriend was that he needed the stress fucked out of him - maybe not put as crudely as that, but you knew what words were floating through his head. Paperwork, cases, and meeting people had been too much for the new agent, and he just wanted you to fuck him dumb for a while, for positive psychological purposes only obviously.

“How’s that feeling, sweet boy?” you cooed, pressing his knees further back to get the right angle to hit that lovely spot deep inside his abdomen.

“Mmm … g-great,” he mumbled, licking his lips and letting his mouth fall open once again.

“That’s good, Spence. Keep your legs like this, please, love.” Your hands moved to hold his slender and naked waist, thus providing you with the perfect leverage to smoothly thrust the thick dildo into his tight hole.

Pegging had been a recent addition to your sex life and you had been surprised when Spencer brought it up one day, timidly explaining how he had stumbled upon it online and wanted to try it out; little did he know, you had been dreaming about that scenario for months. With gentle steps and a good amount of research, it soon became a favourite activity for the both of you.

Spencer didn’t know why he liked it so much. It was probably a mix of being able to let go for once in his life and let someone else do the taking care of, he reflected. And besides, it was nice to not have to think about the logistics of something for a change.

For you? Oh, you loved watching your bright and loquacious genius be reduced to whines and pants every once in a while. It wasn’t a secret that he overworked himself and so you wanted to allow him the space to lay back when needed.

Now, one of your hands had found its way to your boyfriend’s throbbing cock, setting a relentless pace, up and down to give him more relief.

“O-Oh fuck,” he whined as he grasped your arm with a tight grip. “Don’t … stop, d-don’t …” His sentence was cut off when your thumb stroked the underside of his tip, forcing out a guttural moan and a harsh thud as his head hit the mattress again.

You hushed him. “You don’t have to worry, darling. Just relax, I’m here to make you feel good.” He nodded frantically, sucking his lower lip with his teeth to stifle the noises that were begging to escape his mouth.

As much as it was embarrassing, you were sure that your neighbours on the floor beneath your apartment could hear the never-ending squeak of the bed frame grinding against the linoleum, but you couldn’t care less in that moment. Your mind was set on bringing the highest of pleasures to your boyfriend as you skilfully hit his prostate over and over, each push of your hips punctuated with a moan from Spencer.

“P-Please …”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you asked worriedly, quickly cupping his cheek with the hand that was resting on his waist. “Are you close?”

“Uh huh … please, please l-let me …” The sentence died at the back of his throat.

“Go ahead, you’ve been such a good boy, you deserve this.”

You stopped your actions for a second and swiftly pulled him closer to you from his legs, accidentally ramming the tip of your strap-on painfully hard against his sweet spot. It wasn’t your intention but cum gently dribbled down his flushed dick as he panted.

In an effort to not leave him with a ruined orgasm, you planted your fists on the bed, Spencer’s angelic face between them, and you hiked your knees up onto the edge of the bed before picking up the pace once more and driving the fake cock deep inside him.

“O-Oh …” The man was too far gone drowning in pleasure to have the energy to make noise, eyes screwed shut and fingers fisting the sheets.

“There we go,” you purred. The feeling of more cum being fucked out of him spread across both of your stomachs, creating the most delicious mess you could imagine.

You eventually took pity on him and slowed down your hips and teasingly pressed on his legs to spread them further, pulling back to see his weeping length softening against his porcelain skin.

“You did so well, Spence.” You took your pointer finger and spread the viscous liquid across his tummy, and then slowly traced it to the head of his cock. His hips bucked forward and he hissed.

“D-Don’t … sensitive.”

You giggled and leaned down to give him a soft kiss. “Sorry, baby, you’re so easy to tease.”

Spencer’s eyes opened to meet your loving expression and he smiled in return. “I love you.”

“I love you too, always.”

I hope you enjoyed this! I promise I'll get to writing all the suggestions in my inbox eventually, it means so much to me that people show interest :) thank you

[joshym]

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.  

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness. 

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive. 

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work. 

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs. 

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless. 

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice. 

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands. 

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work. 

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being. 

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once. 

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura. 

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now. 

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight. 

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk. 

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck. 

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over. 

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric. 

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging. 

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going. 

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door. 

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago. 

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.” 

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently. 

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.” 

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath. 

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head. 

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette. 

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light. 

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body. 

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade. 

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet. 

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence. 

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips. 

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body. 

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression. 

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you. 

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck. 

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known. 

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice. 

“It’s…incredible, Jake.” 

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body. 

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them. 

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp. 

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands. 

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity. 

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth. 

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you. 

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions. 

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being. 

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.  

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him. 

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock. 

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.” 

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him. 

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you. 

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.  

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure. 

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.” 

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release. 

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax. 

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested. 

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs. 

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with. 

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth. 

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek. 

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand. 

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch. 

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.” 

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.” 

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

[cherryzlem]

My talk on the TikTok-ification of ‘I have no mouth and i must scream’

I personally have discovered ihnmaims recently and through TikTok but honestly, from what i've seen so far, the Tumblr community is way more welcoming than the TikTok community. I believe the ones i call ‘hardcore fans’ or 'gatekeepers' will try all they can to belittle the people who discovered the book/game through TikTok, like any hardcore fan does for their community when it gets famous on TikTok.

TikTok is very helpful to share media on and i have discovered many fandoms through it. But some people are so against ‘TikTok-ification’ that they can’t stand when people find medias through this platform.

When i see some people (again, mostly solely on TikTok) tell AM fans ‘ermm but you know he SA’d Helen ☝️🤓’ i cant help but think ‘yes ?? And he also committed genocide on humanity, keeps torturing the same 5 people over and over again and im very, VERY sure he did use a lot of not really nice kinds of tortures on them, but you draw the line at SA ??’

Like, AM is a horrible being of course, all of these are horrible actions but if someone, like me, likes AM its not gonna be because they think they’re a good ‘person’ (for lack of a better word), WE KNOW AM is bad, of course we do, HE’S THE BAD GUY OF THE STORY and he’s the kind of bad guy who cannot be redeemed but COME ON, WE KNOW THAT.

I love AM for his writing, for how well thought he is as a character, i do not love him for his actions. And i know some 'new gen fans' will pretend AM is not 'that bad' but you shouldn't just assume every fan who comes from TikTok is going to think like that.

Another thing i’ve seen people hate on are AM’s humanisations/personnifications fanarts when posted on TikTok. I know for a fact that these existed for a long long time on other platforms such as Tumblr but the arguments the haters pull out is that ‘errr AM hates humanity, i doubt he’d want to be human ☝️🤓’ but do you even know WHY he hates humanity ?? Have you read the book ???

The reason AM hates humanity is because he wasn’t able to express the creativity he was given by humans, he didn’t just wake up one day and decided to hate humans ?? If anything, giving AM a more humanized/personified image would be something he would want more than anything. If AM had been able to BE like a human none of the shit he did would have happened.

The only ‘argument’ im willing to listen to is when some people say that the whole point of AM’s character is that he isn’t human. But then again, are you against fun ?? In literally EVERY fandom with non-human characters artists will give them humanized designs, even if just for AU’s (take ‘The stanley parable’ for exemple), it’s not because the story is old and is an horror story that people cannot have fun with it. It’s not because it’s a deep story with meaning that people can’t do what they want with it. That is what creativity is for.

And my final point is addressing the people who hate on AM's simps. My gosh, these people have not seen the dawn of the internet if they think its weird to simp for AM.

People simp for Glados, The Narrator from tsp, horror movies murderers and more, and you're telling me that AM is the worst simping choice you could make ?? Let people have fun, let people have weird taste in fictional crushes. In other words:

Stop being allergic to fun, ffs

[ironarrow87]

Hazbin Hotel Imagine: A Small Prompt

Summary: You were only trying to help. You swear.

Warnings: None

Notes:

Me: Give me a small prompt to write a HH short fic. It can even be 1 word. Bestie: ummmmmmm a prompt Me: Lmao I hate you, BUT ILL DO IT Bestie: no no wait, a SMALL prompt Me: Lmao youre the worst

As always, please do not copy or post my work elsewhere.

You didn’t mean for this to happen.

You swear.

It all started a few weeks ago, when you were eating your breakfast and couldn’t help but notice a certain someone pacing the lobby.

“You okay?” you asked tentatively, unsure of what mood the radio demon was in today.

His head snapped so forcefully toward you that you heard the bones in his neck crack. You wince.

“Why, of course!” Alastor’s voice was full of energy, but even you could hear the dangerous strained edge in them. Like he was holding himself back from absolutely destroying your damned soul. This would be a good time to make your exit.

But…you didn’t get into Hell because of your patience with dangerous men.

“What’s on your mind then?” You kept your voice light, your eyes following his movements back and forth across the floor. Even Alastor’s pacing felt threatening, like he was stalking prey rather than feeling stressed.

He looks at you, and for a moment, you think he will just deflect. He surprises you with the truth today, and you know he relishes the look of surprise that flits across your own face. Always one for entertainment. “I am just having some trouble coming up with a new story for my radio show, my dear. Nothing to worry about.”

Instantly, you’re interested. Alastor does not share much of his radio show aside from what is broadcast for all of Hell to listen to. “You write your own stories?”

He stills his pacing, staring at you. “Well, of course I do. In order to be irreplaceable, one must always come up with their own unique material.”

You both chat for a short while until you can see the subtle changes in your friend, signaling the release of at least some of the tension in his body. “What if, instead of a love drama this time…you do a friendship one?”

“Friendship?” he says doubtfully. “Would the listeners be able to enjoy the complexities and intricacies of friendship alone?” He hums, and you can hear a radio tune briefly mingling with his words. “Well, I suppose I’ve been catering to the more mundane for some time. Romance.” He moved his hands through the air, as if dismissing the thought. “Friendship. Betrayal. True passion! The greatest form of entertainment!”

You try hard to suppress a grin at the radio demon’s excitement. All he needed was a little push. A small prompt. That’s all.

“Maybe you could even write about a friendship gone wrong…you know..two driven individuals, working together to form their own little company…but something happens that drives them apart in the industry…and now it’s a battle between them to be the best in the field.”

Alastor processes your words. “Ah, ho! You seem to have a taste for the twistedly creative, my dear.” He pats your head. “Now! I must be off! Plenty of work to be done!”

You don’t hide your grin this time as he melts into the shadows.

-

It’s only a week or so later when you find yourself sitting in Vox’s office, waiting for him to get off work.

Yes, you were friends with both overlords, and it was no easy feat.

The constant squabbling and heckling often drove you insane. But, individually, you found that you enjoyed their company.

Most of the time, anyway. Not when you’re sitting here waiting for Vox to come out of his office. If he ever decided to grace you with his presence.

Finally, the door opens.

“Sorry, my dear, I got…wrapped up in something.” You look up. There are sparks flying out of his claws, and his screen glitches very briefly.

“Everything okay?” you ask, already knowing its not and bracing yourself for a rant.

And indeed it comes.

You listen as Vox complains about the ratings of several of his shows spiraling. How he needs to come up with some new ideas quickly before next week but every idea has already been done with the mass production at VoxTech. How the viewers are hungry for something new, something different.

There’s a feeling in your brain. An itch. You’ve solved this problem before, didn’t you?

“Well…the majority of your shows are romance based…why not do something on friendship?”

“Friendship?” Vox looks at you skeptically. You smirk and give him the same pitch you gave Alastor.

“I dunno…the majority of viewers are looking for the stories to end in sex.”

God, you really shouldn’t. But…it was just a prompt. A teenie nudge.

You look him square in the eye. “So can your new story.”

-

So, now you are running.

Shadows swirl across the alley ways, and you can see VoxTech security cameras swinging to face you as you run.

You really, really, didn’t mean to.

Both Alastor’s radio story and Vox’s new show were big hits. They glowed in the reviews as two entertainers tend to do. For weeks, they both tried to out shine the other with their complex stories. Both storylines were the talk of Hell. Everything was great.

Until Angel brought up to Alastor how similar the radio story was to Alastor’s and Vox’s relationship.

Until Val asked Vox if he was secretly dating the radio demon.

Both overlords fought constantly. Everyone knew that. But now, you’ve discovered something decidedly much worse.

You race into an alley, only to find yourself facing a brick wall.

“Now, my dear…let’s have a talk.” The voice was staticky and you almost didn’t understand it.

You turn slowly, mouth dry and heart pounding.

“Oh yes, a talk,” came a different the glitched out. The voice sounded like it was coming from all around you.

You face the long shadow with red eyes standing at the end of the alley beside pops of electricity and a burning bright screen. United as one front.

“I really didn’t mean to. I swear.”

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society (part 3)

summary: y/n joins meeks and pitts for a study session

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 977

previous | next

Y/N approached the bespectacled boy before they could lose their nerve.

“Hey—Meeks, right?”

“Yeah,” he stumbled a bit, surprised to be approached by his usually reserved classmate, “you’re Y/N.”

Y/N chuckled, “that I am.”

He signaled to the taller boy waiting for him by the door—Pitts, Y/N remembered—before he gave them an easy smile, "what can I do for you?"

“You tutor Latin, right? I could use a study partner that actually knows what they're doing,” a laugh, "if you have the time, of course.”

"Oh, sure," he glanced at his watch, “Pitts and I are going to the library during common hour if you want to meet us there.”

Y/N touched Meek’s arm briefly, “thanks, Steven. You're a lifesaver.” 

The boy turned a shade of red that rivaled his hair and excused himself.

Relief bloomed in Y/N’s chest as they released a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. Their half-cocked plan was in motion.

_________________________________________

“So much for ‘we’re just going to have to wait and find out’ huh?” Quinn mocked Y/N from their seat at the lunch table.

“Well I can’t just let him be the only player in this whole thing,” Y/N shook the latest letter around, “if he wants to play a game, I want to be the one winning.”

“Y/N, the man is infatuated with you. I wouldn’t exactly call it a game.”

Y/N huffed as they shoved the letter back into their bag, “these things are starting to get annoying.”

“Oh, yeah,” Quinn rolled their eyes, “it must be such a burden to have Whitman reincarnate writing you love letters.”

“Whatever.”

“So, what is your plan, exactly?” Quinn asked around a mouthful of pasta.

Y/N was suddenly bashful, “I honestly didn’t think I would get this far.”

Quinn stared blankly back at Y/N.

“This is the part where you tell me what to do, Quinnie.”

“Torture. Medieval style. Get your answers.”

“You’re truly unbelievable,” Y/N ran a hand through their hair and stood from the table, “I’m going to be nice, and I’m going to study latin. Roll with the punches.”

_________________________________________

Meeks was mildly surprised when Y/N actually showed up at the library. He was well aware that Y/N wasn’t struggling with the subject matter—Welton made sure that its students knew who was at the top of the academic food chain. He was one of the rare lucky ones to be among them. He was curious why Y/N sought him out, but he knew better than to push the subject.

It took nearly all of common hour before Y/N started to feel at ease around the two boys. It seemed the feeling was mutual.

“So, Y/N,” Pitts started, looking bored by his trig homework, “have any hobbies?”

“A few,” Y/N muttered as they finished their last verb conjugation, “I like to read and write. I used to draw, but I barely have time to breathe outside of schoolwork.”

The boys shared a glance that Y/N couldn’t quite decode.

“Welton isn’t exactly a breeding ground for creativity,” Meeks sighed.

“That’s an understatement,” Y/N scoffed, “Welton is where creativity comes to die.”

Another look between the boys.

“Touché,” Meeks drawled, “so…you’re roommates with Quinn, right?”

Pitts grinned as a blush tinted Meeks’ cheeks.

Y/N raised their eyebrows, breaking into a cheeky smile, “yeah, I am.”

Meeks was suddenly very interested in the wall, the bookshelves, his textbook—anything other than Y/N, really.

“Are they…seeing anybody?”

Pitts laughed, earning a scolding hush from the librarian.

“No, they’re not,” Y/N smiled, “I’ll put in a good word for you, Meeks.”

Relief flooded the boy’s features and he was finally able to look at Y/N again, “thanks. I—”

“Like you could pin down someone like Quinn.”

Charlie Dalton had a habit of showing up at the worst times.

“Very nice, Dalton,” Y/N closed their book and slid it into their bag, “that’s my cue to leave.”

“Oh, please. I—”

“Don’t let him get in your head, Meeks,” Y/N looked between their study partners, “see you two around.”

Before Y/N could leave, Pitts called out, “we’re usually here during common hour,” he laughed and nudged Meeks with his elbow, “maybe you could bring Quinn next time.”

Meek’s head turned to Y/N so fast they thought his neck would snap, “could you?”

They grinned, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Y/N could hear the three boy’s rushed whispers as the door closed behind them.

_________________________________________

“So you don’t think it’s either of them? Why?”

Y/N turned onto their side in bed, facing Quinn, who was doing the same.

“I don’t know,” Y/N looked at their nails, “I could just tell they weren’t interested like that.”

Quinn scoffed, “well, we’ve established that you aren’t exactly aware when people are interested like that.”

“Well, they gave me a pretty open invitation to join them again,” Y/N smirked, “maybe you could come and run interference.”

“You’re not taking this seriously enough, Y/N.”

“Whatever,” Y/N flipped to face the wall, “goodnight.”

Y/N couldn’t fall asleep, though.

The issue with infatuation is that it’s nearly impossible to not let it consume you at all times. It burrows deep into the fibers of your very being and suddenly you’re fully engulfed by the idea of that person.

And that’s all this was, really—an idea of a person. Y/N didn’t know what their admirer looked like, how they acted, or even if their proclamations were truthful. Could reality meet the expectations being set by the letters? Y/N didn’t want to admit it to themselves, but they were afraid to find out.

Y/N dreamed of a faceless poet that night. 

Their heart ached in the morning.

~~~

part four

[plutosunshine]

How to improve your self-esteem?

Venus in the houses

Venus is our self-esteem and values. The house Venus sits in can show us hints on how to help ourselves to build healthy strong self-esteem. Let’s go!

Venus in the 1st house

Of course, the main key here is your appearance. I don’t mean that you must be always gorgeous and pretty. However, it is very important for you to feel that you fit at least your standards. Hair and make-up play a big role. You feel more confident when you like your look. NB!! Not others, but you! Also, your self-esteem grows when you socialize and show your identity in group settings. Don’t hide all the gorgeous talents you have! You MUST show them to the world. Be assertive when it is necessary because achieving goals and being the best is the number one key to your self-confidence. One more thing: aesthetics. Since Venus is in the first house, which makes this planet rising, that means that the qualities of Venus are important to express as well. Aesthetics, art, beautiful things, music, poetry, acting, and everything where you can show your talents. Also, although the first house is ME and my identity, Venus requires peace and balance. It is not easy, but you have to find a balance between showing yourself and being on the same wavelength as others.

Venus in the 2nd house

Here Venus is in its own house. Meaning that the themes of this house are emphasized. Your self-esteem improves when you feel safe and all is set: you have a nice place to live, you have a good salary, and your surroundings are harmonious. Defining your values helps to gain self-confidence. It is totally okay to express your material desires. They make your self-esteem improve. This is the essence of the 2nd house. Save money to have a backup but don’t be strict with yourself. If you really want something, just get it! The key to your self-esteem is your well-being. When you are fed well, dressed well, and generally feel good, you are confident. Any aesthetic activity that makes you feel calm and satisfied is good. Art and other creative areas also may help you because it develops your sense of beauty and allows you to express your talents.

Venus in the 3rd house

Your self-esteem is growing when you feel that you are an interesting companion. The worst nightmare is when people call you boring. That is why sometimes you are trying too hard to attract attention. However, it is only because of your insecurities. I think the key here is to allow yourself to be outgoing and funny personality which you are. Express your interest in communication and exploration. Your self-esteem improves when you feel knowledgeable. You need to constantly receive and share some interesting information. Also, learning something will increase your self-esteem as well. It can be anything: from cooking to science. You just need new knowledge to feel your self-worth and it is okay because it is the way your Venus feels at home. Don’t be afraid to show your knowledge, and make new friends and connections. Also, writing is very good for you. For example, you can express your feelings on paper. It might help you to build a strong relationship with yourself.

Venus in the 4th house

Your self-esteem improves when you are in touch with your emotions and your subconscious needs are met. It is very important not to suppress emotions and feelings. Also, helping and understanding make you feel needed. Sometimes it is not so good thing to seek this feeling, but for Venus in the 4th house supporting and helping someone is beneficial. Every field and place where you can express your ability to FEEL will be useful. For example, psychology, astrology, volunteering, etc. Also, as you know, the 4th house = home. Meaning that you MUST have your own safe place to restore your energy resources. Decorating and cleaning are helpful for your Venus because on a subconscious level you perceive this home as welcoming and safe.

Venus in the 5th house

One word — self-expression. As simple as that, your self-esteem improves when you express yourself and your talents. If you don’t show your creativity, it will grow inside you and turn into poison. So it is so important to express that! Even if you think that the idea is stupid, please just try! Because it is not only about the result but also about the process. Also, showing others your warm and generous side will help your Venus a lot. Be yourself and don’t hide even weird and unusual sides of you because it is still you. Love yourself and respect your desires, enjoy life, and be optimistic about the world! Also, your self-esteem improves when you are the best at something. It shouldn’t be something great, it can be just a little thing that is only yours.

Venus in the 6th house

Your self-esteem improves when you build your plans and fulfill them. Yes, the 6th house here is all about working on yourself. You feel fulfilled when you follow your own rules and routines. It makes you feel like everything is in its place. Sometimes others find your little habits weird but it is who you are. Also, healthy nutrition and sport will make you feel more confident. Being healthy and put together improves your self-esteem. In addition, helping others helps you as well! The 6th house is all about service and when you help someone you feel fulfillment. It is just your essence so don’t hide it!

Venus in the 7th house

Venus here is in its own house but this placement is kind of tricky. Sometimes your self-esteem depends on your partner and you can’t find solid ground for your own personality. It can be so frustrating that you may feel even empty without a partner. However, this situation is not healthy because Venus and the 7th house are all about balance. Yes, Venus in the 7th house screams PARTNERSHIP, but you need to find balance. Give and take equally, respect each other and find harmony in this relationship. This is the main lesson for Venus in the 7th house. Your self-esteem improves when you and your partner find balance and peace in your relationship.

Venus in the 8th house

The 8th house is all about transformations so sometimes having Venus in the 8th house feels unbearable. Your self-esteem transforms constantly. Sometimes you almost don’t feel it but sometimes it breaks your heart. However, it is the essence of this placement. You need to transform yourself and the perception of your values. Life will give you a lot of critical situations that will test your values and self-confidence. Yes, this is not an easy placement to have, but this tough experience makes your self-esteem unbreakable and solid and you become wise and unstoppable.

Venus in the 9th house

Your self-esteem improves when you get new experience and share it with others. It is so important for you to explore the world and build your own philosophy in life. You need to dig deep into the definition of the word «freedom». Your self-esteem improves when you feel no pressure and when you can do whatever you want with your life. Advice-giving is so good for your Venus. You have a lot to share with others so do that! Also, any kind of exploration of other cultures is good, whether it be a new language or travel. Your self-esteem improves when you can help others using your own experience. That is why you would be a great couch!

Venus in the 10th house

Your self-esteem improves when you are the best of the best in your field. You need respect and admiration from others. However, it is important to mention the difference between dependence on someone's opinion and deserved admiration for hard work. The second case is about Venus in the 10th house. Your self-esteem improves when you work hard on your goal and it doesn’t matter how big it is. You just need to build a plan and follow it until your goal is reached. Your self-esteem NEEDS to have a goal. It can be something small but also don’t shy away from big ones!

Venus in the 11th house

Your self-esteem grows when you are not afraid to express your authentic self and show your weird sides to the world. It is extremely important not to think about the opinion of others when it comes to your self-expression and creativity. Sometimes your ideas may seem strange but it is where the real innovation lies! Your self-esteem improves when you feel that your life is fully yours and you can do whatever you want. Also, like-minded people give you confidence because you know that you are not the only one. In addition, participation in some social activities helps your Venus to feel better. For example, charity or fighting for someone's rights.

Venus in the 12th house

Your self-esteem improves when you can express your deep emotions through creativity. Whether it be music or theatre, you need to find a way to free your endless feelings. It can be something small! Also, your self-esteem improves when you help those who are in need. However, be careful! Your sweet soul sometimes doesn’t understand when people take advantage of you. Everything must be in balance. Also, you need to find a field where you can use your empathic gifts to help others. For example, psychology, astrology, therapy, etc.

[sytoran]

𝐈'𝐌 (𝐂)𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 ⌇ wanda maximoff

summary: when they said 'white christmas', you thought it meant being covered in snow. not...... this.

☰ PAIRING: sub!wanda x dom!gn!reader

☰ TAGS: modern!au, smut (18+), first times, loss of virginity, corruption, rough sex, body worship, teasing, fingering, nipple play, you make wanda squirt for the first time, then you overstimulate her 'cause you're a fuckin' tease

masterlist

pining for wanda maximoff was one thing, but being best friends with her troublemaker twin brother pietro was a whole ‘nother hurdle you couldn’t leap over.

she was so alluring, in the best and worst sense. with the wide emerald eyes and the little skirts she wore and the adorable nose scrunch.

pietro would probably kill you if he found out what was going on inside your creative imagination every time you went over to his place (which he shared with wanda).

in your defense, it had started as something innocent: stumbling into her the first time you went over to hang out with pietro, with bashful apologies and not-so-hidden blushes. she had looked at you in a wondrous awe, green eyes sparkling with hidden intent.

then you started coming over more often, and you started stumbling into her more often. it was totally unintentional, though. definitely…

“oi, help me put up the decorations!” pietro called out to you from the living room. december had swung round again, and you were helping the maximoffs prepare for the jolly season of christmas.

when you entered the living room, you were enraptured by the many colourful decorations, the center of attention being the huge christmas tree. it was adorned with silver and red ornaments, not to forget the myriad of wrapped presents under its evergreen leaves.

to your right, wanda was standing on her tip-toes, trying to put a wreath on a part of the wall she couldn’t quite reach. you quickly scanned your surroundings, to find that pietro was preoccupied with something else.

seizing the opportune moment, you approached the redhead from behind. you reached up to help her hold the wreath, smiling as she let out a soft gasp at your presence.

“may i?” you asked wanda softly, your warm breath hitting her skin. the redhead quickly nodded, looking down, the tips of her ears burning a bright red. as you stood behind her, you saw her thighs clench deliciously and your eyes darkened, a smirk finding its way onto your face.

guess wanda wasn’t that innocent.

as you placed the wreath above your heads, you allowed your crotch to brush against her ass for the slightest moment. “there you go,” you murmured softly, right above wanda’s ear.

you swore you saw wanda bite her lip, but then pietro was coming towards the two of you, and the moment had ended as quickly as it had begun.

later that day after the festivities and a hearty dinner, you and the maximoff twins were settled down to watch a movie.

right as you were about to hit play on ‘home alone’, pietro jumped up from his seat, clutching his phone while staring at it with a horrified expression.

“what is it?” wanda asked concernedly at his frantic state.

“oh shit, i left my car at the car wash!”

“what the- how-”

“no, trust me, i’m not dumb. so i went to bring my car for a wash, but then i wanted to eat sour patch kids, so i went to the convenience store at the petrol kiosk, but then there were no sour patch kids, so i ran to the supermarket, but then after buying them i forgot about my car, so i just went back home, thinking i had gone to the grocery store on a regular occasion-”

“that is quite dumb.” wanda interrupts, a grin forming on her face. you would’ve agreed wholeheartedly, if not for the fit of crushing laughter overtaking your body.

wanda watches you with a certain amusement, and by the time you’ve stopped making fun of your best friend, he was already out of the house, the door nearly swinging off its hinges.

you and wanda were left alone in the living room, the only sounds being michael buble and shania twain’s rendition of ‘white christmas’ playing over the sound speaker.

you knew it was wrong, but some slightly predatory thoughts of wanda were swimming in your head as you stared at the redhead, the image of her bending her to your will and doing as you wished lingering. she was just so perfect, so sweet, so innocent, so-

“do you want to continue the movie?” wanda asked you softly, reaching up to run a hand along the side of your cheek. you froze at her sudden boldness, and it seemed like she did too.

“okay,” you managed to say, shielding the stutter that threatened to make its appearance. but before wanda could retract her hand in embarrassment, you seized it, pulling her onto your lap.

wanda’s little breathy gasp sent a jolt of arousal right down to your core. you could see her bashfulness, afraid to even turn around to look at you. but then she shifted in your lap, leaning back to rest her head on your shoulders, making it clear she was definitely not opposed to the idea.

letting out a small huff of satisfaction, you wrapped an arm around her stomach, pulling wanda in even closer.

albeit rather shy at first, wanda warmed up to your bold touches quickly throughout the movie. she seemed more than content with letting your hands glide mindlessly across her stomach and her thighs, in circular motions that drove her insane.

after long moments of a heated atmosphere with palpable sexual tension, wanda let out an addicting whine when your fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater.

you smile at her mischievously, even though you know she can't see you. but it's your laugh that fucks her up in the best way possible: warm breath painting the back of her neck, a rasp that's practically ear candy in close proximity, and-

"would you?" you ask seriously, breaking the ice first, though rather slowly.

wanda gets snapped out of her mind whirl, still struggling yet turned on by the fact that she can't see you. it heightens her other senses, and she's so unbelievably turned on she think she might die.

"...would i what?" wanda dares to ask, her breath picking up but refusing to stutter.

you don't respond for a while. you want to ruin her, but you want to prolong her suffering. the sound of wanda's shallow breaths echoes in your ears.

finally, you reach up to cup wanda’s face from behind, using your thumb to press down on her bottom lip.

wanda lets out an honest-to-god whimper from the back of her throat. in that moment, she freezes, completely stilling in your arms, half terrified and fully aroused.

well, fuck.

your grip on wanda’s hip becomes downright possessive, short nails digging into her hipbone. wanda gasps breathily, and you lean closer, much closer, lips brushing against the back of wanda's ear piercing, then murmuring directly into her ear.

“would you let me fuck you right now, wanda?"

the redhead could have sworn the entirety of her bring ascended then. her heartbeat was drumming in her ears. "i- uh," she mutters unintelligibly, throat running dry when you forcefully pulls her hips closer.

despite your close proximity, you never fail to see the way wanda's thighs clench, and it excites you.

you're probably wrong for wanting this, for wanting to fuck wanda senseless, when you'd only met a few weeks ago. but it's hard to resist, when the redhead bucks against your thigh, when she's already acting so flustered.

"haven't answered me yet, love," you remind wanda, tracing your fingertips over her cold skin, slowly going higher and higher up her sweater.

obviously, wanda thinks, the logical reasoning would be to say no. even though you're smoking hot, you did after all just meet a few weeks ago. and to do it in her brother's house? with his best friend? insane. absolutely, no way in hell, would she ever-

“y-yeah. sure, i mean. uhm.” wanda answers, evidently embarrassed. “if you want to.”

and that's how you ended up with your fingers buried knuckle-deep inside wanda maximoff's cunt.

fascinating, you know, but it had worked nonetheless, so who was to blame you?

wanda was rather hesitant of her inexperience at first, it being an insecurity to her. but it has quite the opposite effect on you.

"you're such a good girl," you groaned, praising the redhead who was writhing below you. you take pleasure in the way she squirmed, so shy yet so needy.

desperate pants echoed around the living room, pleads for alleviation leaving wanda’s lips, as the feeling of pleasure flooded every one of her senses.

the movie was long forgotten, and the only thing that currently existed in your world was wanda maximoff.

the fast yet careful pace of slender fingers thrusting in and out of her dripping sex had wanda seeing stars. her thighs were obediently spread out on the sofa, your steady hands never failing to keep them open.

not like it would’ve been necessary, anyway, considering wanda's utter pliancy and churning need for that overwhelming feeling to never end, for you cruelly delightful ministrations to bring her over the edge.

“you like that, sweetheart?” you asked, your other hand leaving her thigh to slip off her sweater with some difficulty and tugging at her hardened nipple. wanda’s breathy moans got louder, instinctively clenching around your fingers harder.

wanda couldn’t bring herself to say anything, not when her state of mind was in a blissful paradise. you tilted her face up to stare at her clouded eyes.

when wanda’s eyelids fluttered open, to be greeted by the sight of your deliciously darkened eyes, sucking your own fingers off of her juices, she nearly came then and there.

“please,” she whispered, trying to bring up her hips for more.

“i know, i know,” you murmured, never stopping your sinful work, driving your fingers deeper and harder each time. at a particularly harsh curl of your fingers, wanda arched off the sofa, letting out a scream that rang in your head.

“oh, i need it,” wanda whined, as you hit that spot again. you kissed off the tears on the side of wanda’s eyes, looking at her beauty with a wondrous awe.

“mhm, what do you need?” you asked with a teasing lilt, purposefully leaving your fingers in a way she wouldn’t be able to cum just yet. wanda groaned in frustration, but you held your own.

“i need to-” she was cut off when you leaned forward to suck purple bruises into her porcelain skin, as she struggled with the distraction. “i want- oh, right there.”

you began sucking on her hard nips, your fingers still buried in her sopping cunt. wanda threw her head back, eyes rolling into the back of her head with sounds of pleasure falling unashamedly from her lips.

wanda had lost control, you knew, yet you wanted more. you craved more. you wanted to edge her into the darkest depths of oblivion, bring her to a high she didn’t know existed, until she wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else the same.

you added a third finger, throwing both of her legs over your shoulders. with one last thrust that brought wanda over the edge, she came with a blinding vision of white light, your name falling from her lips like a sacred chant.

“oh- i’m gonna-” wanda cut off her own moans when her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, figuratively and literally. her ropes of white cream came out in spurts, painting your fingers and forearms, then her own thighs, then more of you.

well, it sure is a white christmas.

you watched her cum with a hint of pride, then smiling slowly at her, knowing it had been a first.

“first time squirting?” you asked, kissing up her thighs.

“...first time actually cumming,” wanda responded shakily, then laughing nervously. “thank you.”

you chuckled at her embarrassment, pulling her in for a kiss. it was slow and sweet at first, wanda savouring the softness of it all, before you slipped your tongue between her lips to deepen the kiss. wanda let you work your magic, closing her eyes again in ecstasy.

it was a while before you could bring yourself to stop kissing wanda. “anytime. i-”

the sudden sound of a key unlocking the door made both of you freeze in horror. before either of you had the chance to even lift a finger, the door swung open. damn pietro for always being so speedy.

“okay, they towed my car, but i got it back. anyways, i-”

the blonde caught sight of what was happening before him and nearly passed out there and then. pietro’s jaw hung open, then he stepped back, then he let out a sokovian curse.

“uh, merry christmas, pietro?” you trailed off, looking at him with an awkward grin, fingers still deep inside his sister.

he stepped back, running a hand through dusty blonde hair, still trying to process the scene before him. the next words fell from his lips in a rush.

"i didn't see that coming."

check out my blog for more sub!wanda content :D

masterlist

[artsymeeshee]

Happy birthday! Have our favorite old men and Stan's babies givin ya a birthday visit! Each party hat carefully manufactured by Mabel. Ford is probably explaining how it is totally safe and fine to give a duckling a sparkler. What's the worst that can happen?

When I got into Gravity Falls, I was truly not expecting the amount of time I'd be spending on Tumblr, especially on your blog! I've been looking at your art since 2021, absolutely loving every piece you created.

I'm not alone when I say that your art has gotten me through a lot of rough spots. It has been incredibly comforting seeing all your art surrounding the GF cast, especially the Pines family.

I can relate to how hard life gets, but one thing that I knew I could do was come by your blog, and find comfort in your art, as well as your ideas and tidbits of fics and whatever you wished to share.

You are one of the primary people who inspired, and still do inspire, me to create GF art. Whether that be drawings, fics, or PMVs. You inspired my own GF comic ideas, and so much more.

The biggest thing you've inspired is the ability to allow myself to be comforted by these characters. To make my own ocs and interact in the silly GF world. Seeing you post your content inspires my own, and its such a freeing feeling. So I must thank you for it. Thank you for being so awesome, creative, and supplying the Stan Twin fluff we all need. Most of all, thank you for being you. :)

I CANT BELIEVE I MISSED THIS. THIS IS SO CUTE 🥹🥹🥹 omg all the little ducklings! The one holding a sparkler amsnjsdndn and the one in Stan’s shirt pocket 🥺

Thank you so much!! ;w; ❤️

[hisui-dreamer]

ode to the heir of the underworld

Pairing: Idia Shroud x gn!reader

Synopsis: you would always be willing to stay by his side, no matter how gloomy he might be

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for idia, bot proofread

Word count: 618

Notes: happy birthday idia!! fr he was the only character i hated when I started twst, but he's grown a lot of me ever since and seeing his dialogue is always so refreshing hahaha

Masterlist

Your lover is always nervous when he's talking to other people. And though it's a formidable shadow in his life, the rare moments of tranquillity that come with your presence hold a gentle beauty. The subtle relaxation, the easing of tense shoulders, and the softening of his guarded expressions—it warms your heart that he can breathe freely around you. In those fleeting instances, when his guard lowers, you see the true essence of his being, and it's in those vulnerable, unfiltered moments that your affection for him grows even deeper.

Your lover harbours a tempest within, a brewing storm that can be triggered by the smallest of things, though it's rarely aimed in your direction. It’s an anger that flares, but it's also a blaze that swiftly extinguishes itself, dissipating at the slightest touch of understanding or reassurance. You're slightly ashamed to admit it, but watching him burst into smoldering, golden flames is ever so slightly amusing.

Your lover holds his younger brother in the highest regard, showering him with unconditional adoration and protectiveness. He takes crafting custom upgrades, playing video games together, and doting on him with an earnestness that knows no bounds. It's incredibly heartwarming just how he's willing to go the distance just for his little brother.

Your lover has no boundaries in scientific creation when he is sparked by motivation. The dormant genius ignites within him, birthing ideas that defy the confines of convention. From the meticulous coding of new programs to the intricate design of futuristic gadgets, his creativity dances on the edge of brilliance. It's in these rare moments that you can see him fully as the technology genius he always was.

Your lover's excitement about the various games and anime that interest him truly rival a child. His eyes alight with a fervour that's infectious, and his words spill forth in a torrent, carrying with them a depth of knowledge and excitement that's utterly captivating. It's a large contrast between the gloomy man who always thinks the worst of every situation. In these moments where he allows himself to hope, you find yourself enchanted by the sheer intensity of his spirit, revelling in the privilege of glimpsing the vibrant core of his being.

Your love how, behind closed doors, he reveals a side that contrasts starkly with his reserved demeanour. He becomes the definition of affection and clinginess, seeking closeness and reassurance in your presence. His walls crumble, allowing vulnerability to emerge as he leans into cuddles, lingering embraces, and moments where he simply revels in your warmth. In these private spaces, he's unafraid to express his longing for connection, finding solace in the intimacy shared between you both, relishing every opportunity to be close and cherished.

Your love how he holds you as something delicate, a precious treasure he fears losing in the whirlwind of his own fears. In the quiet moments, he showers you with a tenderness that speaks volumes, his touch gentle as if afraid to break the fragile connection you share. He navigates your relationship with cautious steps, always nervously watching for signs of distance, a silent fear etched in his eyes that you might one day decide to leave. His actions, though at times hesitant, speak volumes of the depth of his affection, a love that seeks to protect and cherish every moment spent by your side.

Your lover is an enigmatic cosmos of emotions and complexities, a constellation of fears and passions, each shining with its unique brilliance. You share a love that dances amidst the stars, navigating the nebulae of his complexities, finding beauty in the intricate patterns of his soul.

Your lover, is none other than Idia Shroud.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[srbachchan]

DAY 5946

Jalsa, Mumbai May 29/30, 2024 Wed/Thu 1:53 AM

🪔 ,

May 30 .. birthday greetings to Ef Mahmud Chowdhury from London 🇬🇧 .. and Ef Heena Bhambhani .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

work done for the cause of the general .. for the hopeful understanding of why it is being done .. of the desire to be assured that it may make some sense in the execution of some of the pointers spelt out ..

and then some more .. more ideas that have not been covered and not been drawn in the creative ..

I work for the campaign on Road Safety .. to be able to personally share some of my experiences on how this should be designed and brought to the people in general that have the right and privilege to use roadways , vehicles and the discipline and understanding that road safety in its execution may bring about a better discipline ..

It can never be a statement .. it must contain the psychological temperament of the viewer and the listener .. when you command for understanding it is often taken in the wrong spirit .. a lot needs to be put into the reason for the Campaign and the essential pointers that all motorists and pedestrians must believe and understand for a better temperament and safety on our roads ..

it shall be a long drawn battle .. but like all else, when the cause is understandable .. when the cause is right , then all else falls into place ..

It needs a continuous rendering ..

Talking about it in a formality and then forgetting it as 'job done' is the worst status of its bearing .. you have to persist , persevere , and determine a will that eventually shall work for the benefit of the reason it was done ..

So yes .. I commit myself to the fruition of the campaign .. and shall persist to the best for its victory ..

hand on heart to set the nature for the purity of the mission ..

salutations for them that support and volunteer to assist in the need ..

.. and have the great pleasure of my cute sweet colleague in front of the camera .. tresses and all .. 🤣

yes the moments in pictures are repeated .. for little girls be the sweetest of all ..

and the thoughts go back to that masterpiece of a film GIGI .. and the song

'Thank Heaven for little girls'

the song sung in its most inimitable rendition, by the great Maurice Chevalier .. and starring the most handsome man of the times Louis Jourdan !!

Ah .. those were the days my friends .. sadly lost in the speedometer of modernity and time ..

and my gratitude to the enviable Avinash Gowarikar for his photographic senses and the ability to capture you and make you look grand .. despite the flaws of age !!

I leave my liege

liege

"Since modern populations often ignore aristocracy (except in the case of tabloid coverage), many words once used for royalty are now unusual and obscure. Such is the case with liege. If you refer to someone as "my liege" you are probably playing a game.

Ah, the Medieval era, where we find the word liege as we know it, a term used by underlings for the lord of their land. The word was probably of Germanic origin, derived from the Medieval Latin laeticus. In an interesting etymological twist, the word at one time meant a leader of a band of free men — pretty much the opposite of its eventual meaning as a feudal lord. The word is not used much today, except in jest (see Python, Monty)."

Amitabh Bachchan

[dumbass-duo-showdown]

DUMBASS DUO SHOWDOWN ROUND 3 BATTLE 2

JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA & OKUYASU NIJIMURA (JOSUYASU) FROM JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE VS SOKKA AND AANG FROM AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

PROPAGANDA

JOSUYASU

JOSUYASU PROPAGANDA

Josuke is fairly decent, but okuyasu, you know how in math, if you multiply a negative number with a positive one it is always negative, that is josuyasu for you. Josuke has 6 braincells and Okuyasu has -6734. Their first meeting was okuyasu trying to kill josuke, then he shows up at his house a few days later and goes "hey lets go to school! btw your mom is hot!" Josuke punches a plate of spaghetti because he thinks the chef is evil, they both fight a middle schooler who stole their cash. Okuyasu got the third most op ability in his part but he is too stupid (and kind) to realize it. Somehow they survive their entire part. They are thus far the second jojo and jobro duo to not lose each other. the second one? THEM IN AN ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE! (okay but okuyasu is swapped for koichi in that one, but still).

Josuke normally is pretty smart, but somewhat silly, but Okuyasu. Isn’t incredibly bright but he’s the best jojo character idc. Okuyasu brings out josukes stupid and then they are just besties and totally bouncing off each other’s stupid ideas. Idk what Okuyasu does to josukes brain but I’m here for it

I saw the post title and without reading anything else immediately went to submit them, only to go back and read the full post and realize they were included by default. They are THE dumbass duo. Ever. The worst protagonists for a detective story, but they dumbassed around so hard they somehow caught a genius serial killer. No matter who wins, they’ll always be the number 1 dumbasses in my heart.

they are the best of friends, which of course means they met by trying to kill each other.

They’re both so stupid. Like josuke isn’t that stupid on his own but he’s kinda dumb and when you put him with dumbass incarnate okuyasu they multiply each others’ stupidness. Together they are a menace.

JOSUKE AND OKUYASU FOR THE WIN BECAUSE THEY SPEND AN ENTIRE DAY TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHETHER OR NOT A RANDOM ITALIAN WAS EVIL BECAUSE HIS PASTA WAS TOO GOOD

Okuyasu and Josuke share a braincell and they lose that braincell at least 5 times a day

The majority of Diamond is Unbreakable is those two getting themselves and their friends into absurd situations. There's no way the sportsboys can compete with discovering aliens are (maybe???) real and immediately trying to use the alien(??) to cheat at dice. Then they burned down someone's house

#josuyasu are DUmbass Incorporated and i love them#its literally canon that okuyasu has one of The Most Powerful Abilities In The Entire JJBA Universe#but is too dumb and good natured to put it to world ending use

this gif

GIF by hellzfire

Aang & Sokka

They are both very intelligent individually, but when put together they lose all of their braincells

they are very intelligent in their own right but loose all their braincells together

independently they are very intelligent and creative. aang is an incredible diplomat and quick on his feet. sokka is a literal inventor and war strategist. leave them alone in a room together and they get so into the bit that they end up giving each other minor head injuries or write a fake letter that they sign with a blind girl's name. they also attempt to sneak a lemur into a royal banquet under aang's hat.

[multidimensionalguidance]

Dominant Archetype For 2024

Intuitive/Oracle Reading for all (12) sidereal signs

Services

I was able to find this beautiful and insightful deck with 80 different archetypes that represent the many facets of our unconscious, subconscious, and conscious mind. This is the dominant archetype you are currently and will continue on embodying for the remainder of the year. Enjoy <3

Aries

Prince Archetype

You're filled with romantic charm and potential for power. There's a need for being generous, fair, compassionate, and full of wisdom but it must be balanced. The shadow aspects of this archetype are manifested from a sense of entitlement, and using your position and power to your own interest regardless to needs nor impact on others.

There might be matters of love that you are sabotaging, own up to your self power and bring the change you deserve for yourself. Do not allow your old wounds and triggers to dictate your present or future decisions. You've been given the abilities to see beyond the superficial and understand where real power comes from.

Taurus

Goddess Archetype

This is the light feminine expressed through wisdom, nature, life force, and sensuality. You are fitting the energy of your ruling planet very well, but keep in mind that the shadow aspects manifest in extreme self indulgence, and exploitation of the female nature and form in some way.

Make sure you're putting all of this abundant energy towards becoming an active advocate of a cause that aids your self growth along with others. It is time to focus on developing within a community, just be wary of not using this to gain leverage or superiority over others.

Gemini

Victim Archetype

You might currently find yourself dominantly playing an archetype that prevents you from letting yourself be victimized or victimizing others, but it also implies the inability to receive positive feedback without playing the victim as well. You don't need sympathy nor pity from other in order to feel validated and seen. Your opinion is the only one that truly matters, find the strength behind it.

Keep in mind that everyone has this archetype, but the goal is to recognize it enough to stop inappropriate attitudes towards ourselves and act from a place of power. This card also speaks of not being able to maintain personal boundaries.

Avoid turning your pain into a joke all the time, its minimizing it and blocking you emotionally. Even if its helpful to laugh through the pain when needed, don't deny your emotions nor others.

Cancer

Midas/Miser Archetype

You are currently being a natural entrepreneur or having creative abilities that can turn into gold. This is a state of sharing your riches happily and enjoying abundance. The shadow comes from hoarding money, emotions, and having an obsessive fear of losing it. With this archetype wealth could be your best friend or worst enemy. What are you're willing to sacrifice for money?

It can be good to use your social abilities to become a jack of all trades, but be wary of the dangers behind only staying in shallow waters with all of your knowledge. Its not about cutting corners, specially when there's ulterior motives or hidden agendas.

Leo

The Hedonist Archetype

You are inspiring others with your creative energy to embrace the good things in life, and the joy of celebrating beauty in yourself. The shadow aspects are pursuing pleasure to a detrimental degree. It makes you indulge at the expenses of others. As if it was an insatiable appetite for life, good food, wine, sex, and sensuality.

Be mindful of not using your ability to identify aggressive/hostile tactics, hidden intentions, and humility to your advantage in certain situations. Do not succumb to taking what isn't your or bullying others when you're getting what you want. You can achieve your lifestyle goals without sacrificing your power to become codependent of others.

Virgo

The Trickster Archetype

There is a strong energy of transcending from conventional, uncomfortable, and painful predictable situations or behaviors. This helps you see situations outside of the box and give others creative alternatives. The shadow sides come in manipulating by not being honest with yourself and with others. Its your ability to find loopholes in situations and the compulsive need to move forward from anything negative as fast as possible.

It is also possible you're playing double agent due to divine intervention, meaning that you cannot or do not want to disclose what you know. Allow yourself to explore uncharted territory and situations that are simply out of your control.

Focus on your potential to see the sacred beauty and possibility in all things. Feed your inner child with hope, and not with pessimism or disbelief.

Libra

Rebel Archetype

You've been challenging authority to create a social change. It has been leading you to reject spiritual or governmental systems that are unable to serve nor satisfy your needs. The shadow side comes in rejecting all legitimate authority out of frustration, rebelling out peer pressure, or for outside validation.

There might be talents for creating and supporting life that are being positively appearing or conversely there might an abuse of authority arising. Pay attention to the current patterns in which you've had to rebel, and reflect on the underlying motivations.

Scorpio

Child: Nature Archetype

There are several expressions of our inner child, and for you the rest of the year will be all about friendship with animals and connecting with nature spirits very easily. There's a real toughness and ability to survive against all odds at this moment. You're respecting very heavily the seed of life that lays within all living and conscious creatures. The shadow side is hurting or abusing animals, people, or your environment.

You are or will be heavily tapping into your inner child and filling it with lots of magic and nurturing energy. Stay connected to your belief of knowing everything is possible, and be aware of any heavily pessimist, depressed, or distorted inner views.

Sagittarius

King Archetype

You are in a state of being completely aware, and choosing to take benevolent leadership in your life. Those who are around you or close to you are benefiting immensely from your charge. You give them a real sense of stability and control that comes from strong boundaries. The shadow aspect is an excessive feeling of entitlement and as if you deserve rulership without any restraint.

There will be plenty of meaningful learning and alchemizing that knowledge into long life wisdom. You have accepted with humility and devotion to simply become a learner of life and opening up to the lifelong journey. Don't allow arrogance limit your connection with others or keep you stuck from not knowing how translate knowledge into action.

Capricorn

Angel Archetype

You are helping those in need with no expectation of what you might receive back, and staying connected to divinity and angels at the moment. This is a state of being loving, nurturing in character, and being a sort of fairy godmother/godfather to those who are in need of some love and warm.

The shadow aspects come from acting falsely innocent/unaware to manipulate and mislead others, or falsely claiming to be in touch with angelic guidance.

It seems you're tapped into divinity from an inner child level, so your aura of innocence, purity, desire for redemption, or having a special connection with divinity is real and authentic. Cherish all of it while protecting your energy!

Aquarius

Rescuer Archetype

You are and will continue to provide strength, support to others in their moments of crisis, and truly acting out of love with no expectation of rewards. The shadow aspect is assuming that those you aid in their worst moments will reciprocate or keeping those you help in a constant state of need.

You are using your gift for mediating with fairness, strategy, and respect for all parties in different aspects of life, but be wary of doing this with ulterior motives or hidden agendas.

Pisces

Destroyer Archetype

You are releasing what is potentially destructive or preparing yourself for a complete new you, life, reality, etc. There is a deep call for a complete rebuild of yourself at the moment, and it can beneficial if you're letting go of self limiting beliefs.

The shadow aspect is becoming intoxicated with your power to create chaos/destruction and drowning those around you in the process. You need to become aware of your ability to notice when someone or something is draining you life force, and ensure that its not coming from you. You don't need to deplete others energy to survive, nor need to rely on codependency.

Think of the times when you've felt exhausted from interacting with others and the times where you've noticed others feeling this way after spending time around you. Are others taking too much? And how do you notice when you're doing it too?

[acciomjolnir]

Now that some authors are taking their works down or locking them to archive-only, I'm seeing some conversation here and there about "does it solve anything," "won't it make it worse?" and so on.

But that's not the point.

I mean yes, we as authors are trying to do what we can to minimize access to our works by people who are only there to take it and turn it around for their own profit. The binders and profiteers on Etsy selling fandom-based merch and bindings to make a profit while the people who actually wrote the stories get nothing, and who suddenly have to worry about litigation, because these people are drawing attention to the works we're creating in other people's intellectual paddling pools... those people are the problem.

But we don't have a lot of options as authors, and at the end of the day, we have to protect ourselves, and our hearts, and our minds.

That's really the crux of it. It's not just about flipping a switch and turning on or off your fandom works, that's the "easy" part.

It's about caring. It's about having poured your heart and your time and your love into this thing for free, in your free time, just because you wanted to share in the community of people who love the same things you do. It's about the energy you've spent. It's about the creativity and time you've poured into these works with no expectation of anything but maybe finding some other people who were hoping to read a story exactly like the one you happened to write.

When you come to a place for enjoyment and love and sharing, and it becomes a constant battle against bad actors who chip away at your faith and your love and your enjoyment, you stop wanting to spend your time there. That, at least for me, is what this is about.

It's hard to want to keep writing for a fandom when its worst actors are doing their damnedest to suck every ounce of joy from it. There are other fandoms, there are other outlets. There are things that I could spend my little free time on that won't feel like such a constant battle.

All this to say I don't blame anyone that's washing their hands of the whole affair. Riding off into the sunset with a pair of sunglasses on honestly feels like it would be freeing at this point.

[kingconia]

hello! i was wondering if you could write prompt #2 with jamil? your one from just the other day is so good (and slightly heartbreaking), thank you in advance if you do!

Gn!Reader x Jamil Viper

2. “Why are you mad?”

”I'm not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

•

”So, truth or dare, Y/n?”

You stared at the empty bottle between you and Cater, trying to understand how you found yourself at this point of your life.

This kind of parties, loud and overwhelming ones, never were your favourites. But, still, you tagged along with others this time. Just hoping to see a certain someone.

A certain someone, who was indifferently staring at the ceiling, while he was sitting on the coach with his housewarden.

A very certain Jamil Viper.

”Dare,” you decided boldly, others supporting such a reckless decision—you could never trust Cater in these games, really—with low whistles. ”I am waiting, Cay-Cay. Do your worst.”

You always liked Jamil. And once, it seemed, he liked you, too. At least, he was willing to spend time with you, offer you some consolation, and share meals, if he had some time.

But then, he overbolted.

”Bold as always, aren't ya?” Cater leaned closer to you, eyes narrowing curiously. ”I dare you to...”

And everything went down the hill.

Suddenly, he started to ignore you completely, and if he didn't, you wish he did, because his mean words hurt you all the same.

”...Kiss the one guy, who you would trust your drink with.”

At first, you even thought about forgetting him. It seemed healthy. But it didn't seem right.

So, instead, you played dirty. By catching his attention and doing something stupid or questionable in an attempt to see when will he snap. Snap enough to look at you. To see you.

”That's easy,” you smiled, turning on your left, to Diasomnia students. ”Silver, can I kiss you?”

”Woah!”

”Wait, wait, why him?!”

”Damn, I hoped they would choose me...”

Silver's cheeks blushed as he furrowed slightly to your suggestion. Your smile grew wider, when you noticed how dangerously tight Jamil's grip got on his cup.

”I mean, you can. It is the game, after all,” Silver reassured you in a beat.

You beamed. Not wasting any more minute, you leaned closer to him, and pressed your palms to his cheeks, slowly connecting your lips. He gasped in your mouth, almost out of surprise, and you moved even deeper, stroking his cheeks gently.

”Ouch, Jamil!”

You didn't need to turn away to see what happened.

But Silver shuddered from a sudden sound, and so, you parted.

Jamil broke his glass.

”I apologise,” he muttered, never liking to much attention to his persona. ”I will be out in a minute.”

He caught your gaze accidentally, and when your eyes met, you slowly wiped your lips from the kiss.

And that was it.

That was the last straw.

It was now or never.

•

”Well, why are you mad?” You hummed tauntingly, baring your teeth in a smirk.

Jamil avoided meeting face to face with you.

He stopped in front of the table and you instantly appeared in front of him. He tried to leave kitchen, and you invaded in his space again by stopping in the doors. He turned around to open the fridge, and you pressed your back to its cold surface by blocking it.

He gave up eventually.

”I am not mad,” he said, almost sounding calm. ”I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

”Who, for example?” You caught him by the collar gently, just to make sure you will not come out with another creative idea of leaving. ”You?”

But to your surprise, he became gloomier.

”No,” Jamil muttered under his breath. ”I don't think you need to trust me with anything at all, let alone a drink.”

A sigh escaped your lips.

Truly, when you tried to break his stride, you wished to see him angry; anger was a good way to express bottled up emotions. What you couldn't expect, it was to see him even more devastated than before.

Helplessly, you scooted him closer.

”Jamil.”

”What?”

”Perhaps, I wouldn't trust you with a drink,” you murmured in his thinned lips, ”not when you broke the glass like that.”

He scoffed.

”But I would trust you with my life. I only wish you could trust me with your heart in return.”

In this very moment, you witnessed Jamil being so... Shatteringly astonished for the first time. His face was ever soft, with watery eyes staring in your soul, and lips, slightly opened.

”I did everything to make you leave.” He whispered.

“It didn't work.”

”I can see that,” he sighed, slowly hiding in the crook of your neck. ”I am merely wondering why?”

”Because you never actually wanted me to leave.”

And that was it. That was the truth.

Whatever Jamil said or did, all of it, for you was only about his fear. His fear to be replaced and abandoned. His fear to hurt you. To be left alone.

You knew it all along, but he failed to realise that you did.

That he didn't need to hide anymore.

”Y/n,” he murmured softly against your skin, before detaching from you slowly. ”Take it.”

You hummed.

Jamil took one of your hands in his, and pressed it to his chest, where the heart beated mercilessly.

”Take it,” he repeated, offering you a small smile. ”I think, you will take care of it better than I ever did.”

Oh.

You shoved him down for a kiss, and late tears of understanding, and a relief that you got him back, finally touched your flushed cheeks.

You never realised how truly tiring it was, fighting for him all alone this time, without a hope to keep doing that.

”Jamil, just stay.”

It was a plea.

Gladly, his next words were an oath.

”I am not going anywhere. How else could I guard your life, then?”