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bunny584 · 3 months

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OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

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bluberryfields · 8 months

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This is what happens when you're raised by TV and trained in literary analysis

Beyond the crushing heartbreak of that finale, one thing in particular has stuck with me when I look at it in the context of S2 as a whole.

He lays out their relationship, "We're a team, a group. A group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't."

He then turns his head away and says, "I mean, the last few years, not really."

He pauses here, facing the interior of the bookshop. Really looks it up and down.

Turns back, "And I would like to spend" before choking on his words and looks toward the window. He can't finish saying something like "And I would like to spend eternity with you" because that's too much, too fast, for both of them.

But it's that "last few years" bit that has firmly lodged itself in my very broken brain.

According to Gaiman, it's been "a few years" since the end of Season 1. Armageddon has been averted. Heaven and Hell have reluctantly retreated. Crowley and Aziraphale have been effectively cut loose from their "sides," leaving them to form their own side.

So at the start of Season 2, we get a glimpse of the “fragile existence” they have carved out for themselves. To me, the biggest difference that we see is how they exist together in front of others. Going to the coffee shop, the pub, and the other shops along the street that Aziraphale has lived on for over 200 years. And don’t forget how they act in front of Nina, Maggie, and sweet, dim Muriel.

At the coffee shop, Aziraphale stammers a bit when Nina asks who Crowley is, but he still seems to have affection in his voice when he says, "We go back a long time."

Compared to Shakespearian "He's not my friend! We've never met before. We don't know each other!" panic, this is an incredible difference.

Of course, each time, Crowley is cool and cheeky and does nothing to indicate that they aren't a pair. Though, of course, he does deny it when Nina asks about Aziraphale being his side piece. “He’s not my bit on the side! He’s far too pure of heart to be anyone’s bit on the side.” And refers to him as an “Angel [swallows]I know.”

When they go the pub, Crowley's joy at doing something together in public that they do not normally do is super cute, including his cheeky order for Aziraphale's sherry. Then, when bringing the drinks over to the socially trapped Aziraphale, he greets Mr. Brown with a truly adorable, "Hello" and a signature DT smile. Then upon hearing how “excited” Mr. Fell is to host the meeting, he looks down and says, “Oh? You astonish me.” while Aziraphale sips his sherry and squirms.

We also watch as Crowley follows Aziraphale as he goes to each shop and talks to the owners about the meeting/secret ball. In theory, Crowley has no reason to tag along, and he certainly doesn’t help sway anyone who doesn’t want to/can’t go. He goofs around at the magic shop. He splays out on the bench, chin on hand, looking for all the world a husband waiting for his wife to pick out a dress at the department store. They are so married it’s ridiculous.

Finally, their behavior in front of Muriel while inside their sanctuary. Crowley sits on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair, somehow looking supremely comfortable on the old-fashioned furniture. He folds up those gloriously long limbs and presses himself as close as possible.

He smiles and plays along with Aziraphale’s coaching of Muriel in her disguise. Calls him Angel and asks to speak in private. And at the end, during the awful wait while Aziraphale talks with The Metatron, Crowley cleans up the shop and tells Muriel that he and Aziraphale will need some “us” time after all this. No beating around the bush.

Without oversight, they can be openly together and happy. But Heaven just can’t let that happen.

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81folklore · 9 months

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heaven - OP81 - part 2

pairings: oscar piastri x private!secret!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: a very sweet softlaunch ends pretty quickly

authors notes: first of all a huge thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and taken the time to read my works it means so much to me and im so so grateful!! next, this is something i made at 1am so please bear with me😭. i am working on the lando and charles stories i PROMISE but i want them to be special and i currently have zero thoughts about where to take them so it might be a while🫣 also i almost finished this when tumblr DELETED IT?? i want to cry😁 ALSO i started this at like 1am and i cant be asked to do tweets rn so insta smau it is

part 1 part 3 masterlist

yourusername

liked by yourfriend2, user7 and 583 others

ahahah i love the beach and my friends

view comments

yourfriend2: dont be fooled she called me crying after the fourth photo bcs she lost 5 games of uno in a row

yourusername: i called you in confidence and this is how you repay me??

user6: its fine we know how emotional uno can get😁

yourusername: ??

user7: im so single hahahahhaa (im dying inside)

user10: is it confirmed that this is oscar?

user9: im not being funny but oscar doesnt even follow her so i think yous are just reaching

user10: …they have the same dog??

yourfriend6: might aswell post his face at this point

yourusername: leave me aloneeee im having fun!!

oscarpiastri

liked by clementnovalak, paularon_ and 93,357 others

second part of the season incoming 😁👊 (after a very competitive round of uno)

view comments

user7: ready to see you up on the podium🧡

user10: uno you say?

user3: right could they be more obvious😭

yourusername: its race week babyyy

*liked by oscarpiastri*

user17: literally what is happening why are all of the grid softlaunching😭

user8: and why does it always end in the hardest of launches

yourusername and oscarpiastri added to their stories

yourfriend2: 😭😭

yourusername: i am sick and tired i just want to POST him but softlaunches are so fun😔

yourfriend2: its really fun when everyone already knows?

yourusername: no but we are in too deep now☹️

user6: god you guys are insufferable

user23: JUST POST THE CUTE COUPLE PHOTOS ALREADY

user23: i lied please dont im so single it hurts

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 6,572 others

the world through my eyes☀️

view comments

oscarpiastri: i love you sososo much

oscarpiastri: my favorite person in the entire world

yourusername: ur literally my sunshine🫶

yourfriend1: god you make me SICK

yourusername: ..okay😁 oscarpiastri i love youuu🤭

landonorris: i hate people in love (you guys are very cute)

user10: THE NOTE OH

user18: THE HARDEST OF LAUNCHES HAPPENED

user7: he is her world oh my lord

user63: and the fact that hes her sunshine too😭😭

user63: literally crying myself to sleep

oscarpiastri

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 143,572 others

my happiness

view comments

yourusername: teheehee thats me🤭

yourusername: i LOVE YOUUU

yourusername: i didnt know you took photos of me like this☹️

oscarpiastri: of course your my favorite🧡

yourusername: oh could you get any cuter🫠

yourfriend4: thought you should know yn is currently jumping up and down and giggling while looking at this

user23: I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST THESE?? I CANT HANDLE THIS??

user8: god really saw me sad and said ‘heres the happiest and best couple, wallow more’

user16: YOU GUYS ARE LITERALLY THE CUTEST?? THE NOTES?? THE POSTS??

user1: i cant stand people in love (i want to cry and drown in my tears)

yourusername: oh my god im so obsessed with you

oscarpiastri: i loooove youuu

oscarpiastri added to their story

yourusername: ahhhhh im so☹️

yourusername: osc☹️☹️ur literally the cutest thing to exist

yourusername: my boys🫶🫶

yoursusername: im so in love with you sunshine☀️

oscarpiastri: love you, thank you for showing me happiness🤍

#f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #social media au #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #private!yn!oscar

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luverboychris · 4 months

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𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀𝑺𝑨𝑻 𝑷𝑻. 1 | 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

IN WHICH.. the boy your older sister used to babysit for when he was a little kid is now all grown up— and you are too. never been touched before except for his own two hands until you finally show him what pleasure really feels like. but, don’t you dare think he’s not dirty minded…

sub!chris x fem reader, fluff aw!!!, losing virginity, riding

note: im such a slut for shy chris like pls bby come here & relax. also this is part 1 because trust this story be juicy asf.

— 3.2k words

chris has always been the quiet kid. sitting in the back of the class, knowing the answer but too scared to raise his hand. feeling the sweat forming on his forehead ready to drip down due to worrying if the teacher is going to call on him.

he thought maybe as he got older, grew more mature, he would finally get out of it. perhaps it was a phase. but he was now twenty.. and still the same shy kid from middle school.

he just didn’t get it. he knew his thoughts had so much potential to show his true personality and colors but it was like he had a wall that stopped them from spilling out.

chris drives into the walgreens parking lot, finding the nearest open spot. he gets out of the car and walks inside. he was in desperate need of a refill of his anxiety medication and he was rushing.

but just when the pharmacy was making his prescription, he wanders through the aisles of the store and grabs a snack and of course, a pepsi. chris isn't chris without a pepsi in his hand. he shuts the fridge door and turns his head, seeing a girl.

but he thought she looked familiar, squinting his eyes a tad thinking that would zoom in his vision. she turns her head a little more and thats when he realizes he does know her.

it was his old babysitter, how could he forget? she turns her head back and starts walking out of the aisle he was in.

“w-wait!” he shouts. her hair flips back, snapping her head towards the shouting boy.

“oh my- what the?! chris?” she exclaims. she makes her way towards him as he does nothing but stand in the same spot and smile.

“you’re all grown up, i’m freaking out right now.” your sister says. she pulls him in a hug and he lets her. he appreciated your sister so much. not having a sister of his own yet he felt like she was his big sister in a way.

she always helped him. wether it was when she would pick him up from school and he was covered in bruises from getting beaten up by the kids in his class. or, always reassuring him that everything will be okay in the end. he truly admired her.

but another thing that chris absolutely loved about her, was her little sister that was in his class at the time. and that was you. you were nothing but sweet to him. you hated how people treated him in middle school.

after middle school, you guys went your separate ways since he went to a private school, and you didn’t see him since.

when he saw your big sister, he instantly had you in mind. wondering what you were doing in life, what you look like now, if you still have the same interests as you did in middle school. and the most he was thinking about.. how your love life was.

of course his was non-existent. and he was kind of okay with it, he learned to accept it. girls never looked his way, and no way in hell would he make the first move.

you obviously didn’t know of this, but chris had the utter most biggest crush on you throughout middle school. he basically thought you were an angel sent from heaven to protect him.

chris scratches the back of his neck, “so, uh hows y/n?” he asks. he was in shock he had the balls to even ask that— but he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he walked out of the store without knowing.

your sister laughs, “she’s good! really good..” she says, “well except for the fact she just got out of a long relationship. fuck that guy, he was an asshole.” she adds. chris lets out a little laugh, your sister always overshared and he liked it.

turns out it was one of the boys that used to bully chris. fuck, did he hate that guy. and no wonder you guys didn’t end up working out, you needed a sweet boy— he thought to himself.

“she’s going to be very happy when i tell her i ran into you!” she says, “would you want her number? maybe catch up. i’m sure she would love that chris.”

his eyes widened, without making it seem like he was a nervous wreck after those words came out of your sister’s mouth. with everything in him, he wanted your number.. but he was scared. what would he say to you? would you respond? what if you block him after he presses send to the first text?

“c’mon chris.. she will love to hear from you. just say yes.” she giggles. your sister knew chris too well, always was able to read him like a book. he swore she was some type of mind reader.

“i, uh.. okay. please. yes, can i have her number?” he practically begs. she nods her head and grabs her phone, giving chris your contact. he thanks her and pulls her into a hug before saying goodbye.

but now he was home.. laying in his bed with his face up towards the ceiling. his phone right by the side of him. it was like his phone was taunting him and calling him names for being an absolute pussy. calling him out for not just turning his damn phone on and texting you already.

thoughts rolling around in his head. should he do it now? or is it too soon since he basically just got back home from catching into your sister.

should he do it later? like late at night? but no, it would look like he is hitting you up in a sexual way if its too late. he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

he lets out a big sigh. finally forcing himself to overcome his anxious thoughts and concerns as he lifts his phone up to his face. should he call you instead of text? he would be a stuttering mess if he called you— he thought to himself. but something in him did it anyway.

his hands begin to feel sweaty, the grip on his phone tightening as he presses the tip of his finger on his screen and tapping on your number.

the sound of the phone dialing, which felt like centuries for chris started to make him worry. what if you don't answer because a random fucking number is calling you? please.. please answer. —he thought to himself.

"hello..?" your voice so soft and delicate, with confusion laced in your vocals. even though chris hasn't heard your voice in years, he still instantly just felt at ease. he closes his eyes and smiles to himself.

"h-hi.." he clears his throat and tries again, "hey y/n, it's chris... sturniolo." he quitely slaps his forehead, feeling like he sounds like an absolute nerd.

"oh my go- chris? my sister was just texting me how she bumped into you at the store. damn i kind of regret not going with her now." you say. that sentence alone was enough for his cheeks to flush up in color.

he let out a nervous laugh that bounced through his speaker to your ear. "really?" he mumbles, "anyway, how are you? it's been a while, and oh.. i am sorry to hear about your breakup.." he adds.

"what the fuck? my sister told you about that? i'm going to fucking kill her i swear.. always telling people my buisness." you groan, "but, thank you chris that means a lot." he fidgets in place, knowing he shouldn't have said that to you.

"i, uh sorry.. that's my fault." he mutters.

you drag your fingers across the desk in your bedroom, holding the phone against your ear with your free hand. "hahah, no chris. i was kidding.. kind of. it's okay, that's on her not you." you catch yourself basically blabbering and you feel awkward.

"you know.. i love that you called me but i feel like we have so much to catch up on in eachother's lives." you say, "why don't you come over instead of talking back and fourth on the phone? it'd be nice to see you all grown up too." you add.

chris sits on the edge of his bed now, his hand covering his mouth to not make a single sound because fuck how much your words felt like flirting to him. even if those weren't your intentions, he loved you were at least making an effort to see him in person.

"t-that, that sounds nice yeah." he replies, "i'm free all night."

"you're in luck mr. sturniolo because i also am free all night. come to my apartment?" you ask. he takes a big gulp. he thought you would maybe ask to go to the mall, or go get ice cream. but, going over to your apartment? alone.. he was scared but no way he was letting this offer down.

"y-you sure?" he asks. he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but you were far from it. you were actually excited.

"of course. why don't you come around ten-ish, huh? i'll give you my address. i'll see you then." you reply. chris gets up from his bed, looking at himself in the mirror and catches himself with the most child like grin.

he repeats your words, "see you then." and you hang up the phone. it took him a few moments until he actually removed his phone from his ear. fuck.. was he so happy. he didn't know him picking up his anxiety medication a little later than usual would end up with him being able to see you.

—that night, at your place

chris didn't feel like this was real, standing outside your door with flowers in his hand. a rush of nerves squirm throughout his body as he builds the encouragement to bring his knuckles against your apartment door.

he knocks, and he hears you rummaging on the other side of the door walking towards your entrance. you snap the door open, you look down to the floor straight up to him meeting up with his eyes.

you were not expecting him to look that cute.. yes, he was always an adorable boy in your class but now he was tall, his jawline clenched and just his whole appearance together was insanely attractive.

you lower your gaze to meet with the flowers in his hand, "flowers?" you say, "what is this? a date chris?" you laugh.

his face immediately goes red, "n-no, i, no i know this isn't a date." he replys rather quickly, "my mom just always says to bring a girl flowers.. i'm sorry."

you pull him into your apartment, "aw no chris, don't worry. i was only kidding. i love these flowers and that's very thoughtful." you almost forgot how you needed to tone it down a little with the jokes because he was a sensitive boy. "they are beautiful." you take them from his hands and walk towards your kitchen counter and gently putting them down.

you were so caught up in the flowers, while chris was doing nothing but admiring you. he always thought you were the most beautiful girl in middle school, but how did you grow up to be even more perfect in his eyes? it made him stunned.

you weren't wearing anything fancy though, just lounge wear with your hair pulled up. he stands still, staying in the exact spot you made him go in the first place. which was right by your apartment door. you turn around from the kitchen to him, "don't be shy chris. you can walk around." you say.

he snaps back, realizing he was just thinking about how good you looked without any dash of effort. he clears his throat, "right.. sorry." he says as he walks towards your couch.

"chris you know.. you don't need to apologize after everything." you mutter.

he finally gets comfortable on the couch, "you're right sorry." he says. you walk to the couch, his eyes looking up at you while you're standing right above him giving him a 'really?' look.

"i-it’s a bad habit of mine.." he whispers. your heart shattered a little when he said that, he barely said it out loud but it was enough for you to hear.

you pout at him, now sitting next to him on your couch. "you're cute, you know that?" you say. you rest your face on your hand. he tried maintaining eye contact with you but after you just threw that compliment in the air, there was no way he could.

he swallowed, "i'm cute?" he mumbles. you inch yourself just a little closer to him, now your thighs touching each other.

"oh you know you're cute." you say. he finally is brave enough to look at you now, but then looked down to your glossed lips.

"no i don't. i don't think i'm cute." he replies.

even though this was your first time seeing him in years, it already felt like you guys were back in the third period, lab partners and not paying attention to the lesson because you and chris would just talk, talk, talk.

you were always his partner in class, because no one else would. since nick and matt weren’t in the same classes.

"well you should." you snap back. you knew he needed the validation, and you didn't mind showering him with all the compliments in the world.

chris felt like he was doing a good job with keeping his composure, but he really was deteriorating on the inside. his heart rate going up through the roof and he felt a zoo of butterflies flying around in his stomach.

"i'll try my best to think that.." he mutters. you let out a giggle before unzipping your jacket completely, taking it off and letting your arms be exposed with the tank top you were wearing underneath.

"i'm sorry.. my apartment is so hot right now. i love summer but fuck am i dying of heat right now." you moan out, fanning yourself with your hand. he did everything in his power to keep his eyes focused on your face, and not let them wander to your body.

you stand up a little, your knees on the couch as you reach for the thermostat that's right next to you on the wall. you didn't even mean to, but you were completely bent over in front of chris and now he has failed. his eyes burning into your lower half. your shorts a little too short for his liking because the right amount of your ass was being revealed to him.

you were teasing the fuck out of him without even knowing it. you lower the temperature, going back to sitting right next to chris. "ahh, okay it'll get colder in here soon." you say. he just nods, trying his best not to replay the image of you bent down in front of him over and over in his head.

but his hormones didn't let him, resulting in his dick to grow underneath his boxers and shorts. fuck.. the last thing he wanted to happen was to get hard by you infront of you. he began to feel embarrased, making sure you wouldn't notice.

he looks down at his boner for a split second then back up to you, pulling his hands to cover his area in a nonchalant way. but no girl is stupid.. and they can always tell when a guy is trying to cover up a boner.

he readjusts himself on the couch as you guys are talking back and fourth about your life. you catch him fidgeting his legs, "chris.. are you okay?" you ask.

"wha-? oh, y-yeah. i'm fine." he says. here comes the stuttering.

"it doesn't look like you're fine." you reply. usually he would keep denying it, but he trusts you.

"if you want me to be honest.. and i'm sorry before i say this if it makes you uncomfortable.." he says, "i'm hard and i was trying to make sure you didn't see."

his hands part away, now letting you see his dick poking through his shorts. you feel yourself become warm, and it wasn't because your apartment was.

a brush of horniness absorbs into your skin as you keep looking down, him looking at you with innocent and guilty eyes.

"oh, uh it׳s okay.." you mumble out. he felt like you were disgusted by him, grabbing a hold on your arm.

"n-no fuck! i'm sorry, i really am. i didn't mean to make you grossed out i swear." he pleads. you look down at the grip he has on your arm and then look back at him.

"chris, seriously don't worry.. do you know how many times a girl gets wet from something and has no control over it? it's not your fault that for guys you can physically see when something riles you up." you say with all honestly. that relieved him, instantly making him feel better.

"besides, it's kind of hot." you blurt out. your words make his head snap back towards you, a wave of shock hitting him.

"wait uh, w-what?" he says. you shrug your shoulders, as you clench your thighs together.

"you got hard from thinking about me. it's hot. you have a problem with that?" you ask. he shakes his head ‘no’ so much, his head almost fell off.

"n-no. i don't have a problem with that." he says, "i just am not used to this. i haven't been alone in a room with a girl."

"chris what?! does that mean you're a virgin? wait.. have you even kissed a girl?" you ask. you know he was shy and innocent.. but not that innocent.

his face turns red, attempting to cover his face with his right hand. "yes, im a virgin. and no i haven’t kissed anyone.." he mumbles into his hand.

his pureness was honestly attractive to you.

"wow." you say, "but have you atleast touched yourself?"

the truth was, he touched himself a little too much. the amount of times he has watched porn and jerked off was an unhealthy amount. or even just using his imagination. and, there was no way he was going to admit to you that you have crossed his mind while he was stroking himself.. picturing what you looked like all grown up.

and you fit his description perfectly, as you were now sitting right next to him.

"yeah, i have.." he mumbles, "hey listen.. just because i'm a prude doesn't mean i don't have a d-dirty mind." he adds. you raise your eyebrows at him, shocked that he said that to you.

"dirty mind? i don't believe you chris." you smirk. he didn't even know he slipped that out, his breathing becoming uneven.

"yeah." he says, "i know when the time comes, i will make my girl feel really good." suddenly confidence was rushing through his veins. and it was making you bite your lip at him.

"oh yeah? you will make your girl feel good? i don't know.. i can't believe that." you reply, teasing him.

"i swear!" he softly yells out. you were trying not to get wet at the sneaky plan you were thinking in your head.

"care to prove it?" you snap back. and that's when his confidence that was building up inside him disappears. his palms are sweaty again and his cock was just growing by the second.

“mhm..” he says with a shaky tone.

go read—> press here part 2

─── aid speaks ᝰ.ᐟ ───

╰┈ ⌞₊˚ est. jan 23 2024🗒 ˎˊ˗ ⌝

okay this is lowk long and i want the smut to be in part 2 or else this will be as long as a harry potter novel ong. hope u enjoyed it i love u guys so much?! like thank you for reading my other story, i cant believe it hit 100 likes im stunned. here are tags of people who i wanna marry so badly bruh

@mattslolita @gamermattsgf @plasticferal @m4ttslvr @mattybsbitch @recklessmatt @sturniololol @angelic-sturniolos111 @mattshands @sugrhigh @imwetforyourmom @sturnspoison

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #smut #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #fluff

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yutasbellybuttonpiercing · 8 months

Note

riize + angry/jealous sex??

this got a bit out of hand.. whoopsies! i hope this is what you were looking for!! thank you for the ask 💞

smut warning!! mdni!! also dni if this makes you uncomfortable!! this is just for funsies!!

shotaro:

firstly, you're going to have to do a whole lot to get him jealous. he's basically the least jealous man to ever exist, mostly because his mind is too innocent (not really) to think anyone has ill intentions. once he gets to that point tho, there's no going back. you are not going anywhere until you know who you belong to. when he gets angry like that, he does not care about his own pleasure one bit, but rather challenges himself to make you cum as hard and as much as humanly possible. he knows he's succeeded when you can't form words anymore. a little advice: don't try it if you don't want to pass out from cumming too hard.

eunseok:

he's so laid back and chill, it's crazy to think he could ever get angry like that. well, good thing jealousy is the one thing that gets his energy through the roof. you are going to be like "who are you and what did you do to eunseok" unironically. even the tiniest bit sets him off and he will drag you to the nearest fitting location to remind you that he should be the only man you talk to. he'll go rough, and when i say rough, i mean the whole package of hair pulling, choking, spitting on every part of your body to show you that if you want to behave like a slut, you're going to get treated like one. and no, he's not going to apologize after.

sungchan:

finds it funny more than anything else once he realizes what you're trying to do. i mean, he would be jealous if he didn't know just how head over heels you are for him, so he just watches in amusement and sees where things go. at one point he's going to be like "yep! we're drawing the line right here" and then drags you away. he knows you just do it to get him to be really rough with you, and he's going to make you admit and apologize for it. he gets what you like about it, but he'd prefer you just ask, so his punishment is edging you for hours until you learn not to do it again.

wonbin:

oh, he doesn't like this at all, and yes, his ego is a little hurt (but no one will ever know). he is going to make you pay by shoving his dick down your throat once you get home. this will probably be the first (but probably not the last) time he degrades you, calling you his little slut, only his! he's not going to stop until you have tears ruining your makeup and he's finished over your face. it's then when post nut clarity hits and he feels a bit bad, but he will make up for it with amazing (intimate) sex that will send you to heaven and back. during cuddling afterwards, he is going to suck a few very visible hickies to prevent this from happening again.

seunghan:

against popular belief (?), he does not like this!!! it makes him feel bad, and it robs him of his power. instead of going all primal on you, he will probably be actually hurt. jealous sex will therefore be a very loving act of intimacy to remind you that you're in love!! with him!! hello?? hence, angry sex isn't really a thing he does. he likes to be collected during sex and have his emotions under control, like a good dom! of course, if it is your wish, he can absolutely include it in a form of roleplaying.

sohee:

for some reason, jealousy sends his ego through the roof, especially when it's obvious that you do it on purpose. he is SO cocky about it. this is probably the time to introduce non-sub sohee, because here he is, feeling like the hottest guy ever, and he is going to show you exactly that, if that's what you're asking for! he would probably overthink it if he wasn't feeling so manly and masculine right now, but, well, let's just say that tonight he is on top, and he's going to make you cum in your pants for a change! he also feels like this is the perfect opportunity to fuck your face.

anton:

well, let's be real here. anton probably wouldn't even notice what's going on. but when he does – please just don't do this to him. he is too soft for this! he is going to be SO jealous, but not in a funny ha ha kind of way, but in a 'now you have to fix him' kind of way. so, basically, jealous sex with anton is you having to show him that you actually care about him and not that random guy you talked to at the club. and by that i mean: submissive pillow princess anton! please just make him feel really, really good and take care of him, and maybe let him in on how this was all just a plan to get him to be rough with you. he will understand and he will make it happen.... once he knows he's not actually going to lose you.

#riize smut #wonbin smut #seunghan smut #sungchan smut #anton smut #shotaro smut #eunseok smut #sohee smut #riize sohee #riize eunseok #riize shotaro #riize anton #riize sungchan #riize seunghan #riize wonbin #kpop #smut #kpop smut #ask response

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evilminji · 2 months

Text

You know what I would kill to see?

Nedzu, in the Zone.

He IS a registered Hero, after all. He probably gets calls for missions. Failing that, he's still legal allowed to intervene. Like, say, if some poor four year old were losing their shit? Got separated from their mommy, their headache, which has been getting Ochier ALL DAY has finally gotten Really REALLY bad... and they... they just CAN'T! So they melt down.

Whoops. Four year old with portals.

In a crowd.

Luckily he, Mr. Principle, is a "cute" looking sort of Hero. And as an educator, well trained in de-escala-*CRASH!* Some jackass glory chasing young thing, with no care for innocent lives around them, smashes onto the scene. Terrifying the poor child. Which obviously makes their non-existent control WORSE.

Starts throwing the word "villian" around.

Nedzu is going to EAT his license in front of him.

The poor thing is hyperventilating, crying, clinging desperately to Nedzus suit. Things are being flung from portals. Sucked into portals. He's seen no less then 53 SEPERATE dimensions on the other side of those rifts. At least two were to the open void of space.

He narrowly dodges a portal straight into the heart of a volcano. Can feel the blistering heat singe his fur. Alumni from HIS school, at least, have arrived to actually SAVE people. Get the crowd away from the danger zone.

And to think, all he wanted was some tea.

How this MORON doesn't recognize him, he has no idea. His graduates are actively SHOUTING his identity, for heavens sake. Yet the glory hound continues to chase his so called "villians" at the expense of everyone around him.

He's about to throw the boy to a near by police officer, to get to safety, when the worst occurs. The tract of land he was about to push off of disappears beneath them. The boy's mother screams. He activates High Specs, world slowing as his mind rushs. Twisting, he throws the boy high.

The portal closes before he can see if it is Eraserhead or Cementoss who will be the one to catch him. The odds were 68.3% in Eraserhead's favor. He hopes... Aizawa, does so take these things quite hard, he hope he will not blame himself.

There was no way to catch him in time.

He was already gone.

Gravity arrests, slowing to a drifting meander. The air thick with something the burns his sensitive nose. Green. Everything is a very peculiar green. This is not a planets or if it is, it is countless times larger then Earth. A gas giant of some sort? There does not appear to be a horizon.

In the distance, an almost stereotypical spaceship changes destinations. Now aiming right for him. It seems aid might be on the way. With nothing better to do, he waits. They slow to a stop, a hatch opens, and... oh? A young Hero student! Hello there young man! I am Mr. Principle of the illustrious UA!

And just? Danny? Trying to return this small furry alien guy back to his alien hero school? Getting the run around and "hmmmm, let me look that uuuup *takes forever* yeeeeah, soooorry. You're in the wrong department. You'll have to fly like three days to this OTHER department, fill out 260 forms, and dance for our amusement. Byeeeee~"

Like? He just wants to get this guy HOME! Why are you all LIKE THIS!?

All while Nedzu is " :) My, this is FASCINATING. I am learning new things, battling wits, learning new languages, AND guiding a promising young mind towards a future of Better Heroics? Delightful! This is practically a vacation!"

He even stops by the Fentons for dinner. Some fudge. A little light destruction of Goverment branches on the side. Just? A Grand ol adventure of Nedzu.

Danny suffers through bureaucratic hell. But Nedzu? The most mentally stimulated he's been in years. His crops are watered and his fur is groomed. Thriving! New toys!

Then?? He just... shows back up to work.

How did he return? Where has he been?? Who is this glowing green Hero Child groaning face down on his very expensive carpet? *sips tea* wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy! *maniacal Nedzu laughter*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @lolottes @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @spidori

#dp x bnha #dp x mha #minji's writing #nedzus adventure au

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actual-changeling · 9 months

Text

See, but there's something about the first fight in episode 1 that just doesn't really. fit. It very much feels like we are missing information here.

I have been thinking about this show all day, as one does, but in particular why Crowley gets angry enough to shoot literal lightning at a nearby building. We have experienced him upset before, but never to that specific degree, and their disagreement over Gabriel just does not explain it for me.

My hypothesis: a big, important fight happened right before season 2 picks up that left Crowley feeling rejected and Aziraphale neglected.

The biggest clue is the snippet of conversation about myself vs. ourselves.

"I thought we had carved it out for ourselves"

He almost sounds offended when he says that, yet Crowley reacts with equal parts hurt and anger, like he is referencing something that we, the viewer, do not have any knowledge of.

"So did I"

However, Aziraphale seems to understand whatever Crowley is referring to and does not respond with anything in return. Yet whatever wound they just opened keeps bleeding, and when Aziraphale tells him, packaged nicely, to fuck off, Crowley seems more sad than upset to me.

The to go? is almost said softly and with an initial confusion that hides a LOT of unspoken pain. Plus the HAND MOTION? The gesturing between the two of them while saying "oh, so this is how you wanna do this?" - call me insane, but to me that very much sounds like "oh so this is how you want to break up?"

The funny part is, if Aziraphale had simply shut up after saying "I want you to help me take care of him", I can GUARANTEE YOU that Crowley would have begrudgingly agreed. But he doesn't. He keeps going and this is the first moment this season where he is genuinely and truly bitchy.

"But if you won't, you won't" with the demonstrative sit-down and turning away from him, eyes forward. It pokes at whatever wound is still open and bleeding between them. Aziraphale wants Crowley to jump over his shadow and come help him, ignoring his boundaries. Meanwhile Crowley feels fundamentally misunderstood and rejected and wants Aziraphale to SHOW that he cares about Crowley more than he cares about fucking Gabriel of all people.

That he cares about them more than about heaven.

And now we have finally reached Crowley's breaking-point. he is so deeply hurt by what Aziraphale just said and did, choosing heaven over them, that the pain turns into anger because he has no other way of expressing or feeling it in the first place.

You're on your own with this one.

That last look is filled with such disappointed heartbreak, he turns around simply to give Aziraphale a chance to ask him to stay, to apologize, something. Yet again, he does not. He doesn't even meet his gaze, he is looking away.

To me, he seems almost spiteful, like this entire argument is only superficially about Gabriel but about something entirely else deeper down.

Which - that's the point, isn't it?

Crowley comes back and apologizes because Aziraphale matters more to him than stupid arguments or choosing sides, keeping him safe is the only thing he cares about when it comes down to it. He swallows down his hurt and betrayal and does what Aziraphale wants: ignoring the entire argument and pretending nothing ever happened so they can continue like before.

Only that they can't. The entire season shows just how much they cannot go back to their arrangement, no matter how hard Crowley tries to mold himself to Aziraphale's will. Their final argument simply reflects all of that and more. The same wound that first one was about gets reopened very violently and they're bleeding all over each other with no way to stop it because they're too fucking stubborn to admit that it exists in the first place.

Aziraphale and Crowley can only fix their relationship when they acknowledge the reason the rift between them opened up. Until then, Crowley feels truly rejected and Aziraphale feels entirely neglected, and there is nothing anyone can do to make them confront that.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #aziracrow #crowly x aziraphale #go2 #literally there HAS to have been an argument between the seasons #something caused them to be like this in the first place #this didnt come out of nowhere and it wasn't completely slow either #there was a fight and they both know when they reference it but never actually talk about it #ineffable husbands more like ineffable IDIOTS

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bless-my-demons · 6 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Oh god the FLUFF

Notes: I did this one a little different, I tried sort of a true dual POV and it’s got me fucked up y’all-goddamn. Don’t ask me where the fuck this came from because I have no thoughts, head fucking empty. I just - I can’t, just read it.

Word Count: 1287

Series Masterlist

• March 28th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

I give up.

Striding from my locker, I interrupt Jasper and his conversation with Alice, pushing him towards the familiar small alcove below the stairs.

I breathe heavily, working up the nerve to ask him what’s been on my mind for an ungodly amount of time. Fuck me, I just miss him so damn much.

“Can I kiss you?” I’m weak, weak for needing him so badly after such a short amount of time, I can’t even look anywhere else than the middle of his chest as I make my request.

He surges forward after a heavy beat of silence once I finish my question, he cages me against the wall, “Be mine.”

His words snatch the oxygen from my body, I glance up to his eyes, “What?”

“Come over this weekend,” his gaze is intense - staring into my very soul, “Let me apologize for the last six months. Give me a shot, darlin’.”

“Okay-” I don’t even finish my answer before he moves to grant my wish.

Oh god.

His lips lay themselves upon mine and I swear time stops. It’s a cliche, but everything else in my life no longer exists aside from his lips on mine. Cold and firm, but gentle and steady. A perfect match, non-dominating or in a hurry, but taking his time. As if he were memorizing the pressure, the taste, the way my own lips moved against his.

As if he were coaxing my soul out into the open, to bask in the warm sun that is his love.

Our mouths slotted perfectly together, familiar, the way my body clicked with his. My arms wind themselves around his neck and he kisses me deeper, more - I need more. Two magnets drawn together, two pieces of torn cloth restitched to be whole again, two halves meant to find their place in each other. I move, tilting my head and he responds in kind, an equal in every way despite our differing mortality.

I almost didn’t get this. This-this summation of feelings and butterflies an-and everything between us that’s built up. The lead weight in my stomach from this realization threatens to yank me from the cloud nine his kiss firmly perched me on.

Tears, fat and heavy roll down my cheeks as I grip his shirt desperately and he pulls away just far enough to inspect my face.

“Why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“I never… I never thought I’d get the chance…” My eyes remain closed, unable to meet his gaze.

“To what?” I can hear the crinkle in his brow just from his voice.

“To kiss you again.”

I hear his sharp intake of breath and I know my words cut deep.

I open my eyes, “You left me and it’s all I’ve ever thought about. I-I-”

“Darlin’,” his turn for his eyes to flutter closed, “I’ve regretted every day since that night. I regret my lapse in control, I regret not having a better grip on myself, to handle these urges.”

“Can you?” My lips ghost over his as I whisper my question, the addiction having taken root. “Can you handle it now?”

A shuddering breath exits his mouth and his eyes snap open, a rare display of my effect on the vampire. “No.”

The answer zaps through me, but he stops me before I could pull away. “No? Jasper-“

“You-I-“ a growl pushes to the surface, giving away his flustered state. “I can’t fucking think for god’s sake.”

Jasper

Fuck me, her mouth is pure sin.

I could lose myself in those lips and never care about resurfacing ever again. Everything she does, from how she tilts her chin to welcome me further, to how her body yields to mine and forms against me, it’s heaven. The burning in my throat is secondary to the pure bliss her kiss envelopes me with.

Not to mention her fucking emotions.

Need, happiness, hunger, relief, contentment. They just keep coming, one after the other and I swear it inflates my chest with a happiness of my own, like a thousand butterflies trapped inside the cage of my ribs.

Love.

It feels like two ribbons entwining, dancing in sync, twisting in ways that create a beautiful tangled mess not soon to be unwound.

Love?

This one is different, I’ve felt love before - it’s shines from Esme’s face on a daily basis, it seeps from the smile lines around Carlisle’s mouth, and it passes through me with every one of Emmett’s hugs. But this? This love? This love is flowing straight from her heart into mine, breathing life into something long cold and dead. This love is meant only for me, only to be shared between mates, this kind of love is meant to be secreted away and only examined in moments of vulnerability between two like souls.

I love her and she loves me.

The thought rocks me to my core and I cup the back of her head as she leans back a little, allowing me to deepen the kiss.

A wetness begins to trickle down her cheeks and it startles me from the trance of her delicious mouth, tears?

I pull back far enough to catch the tear tracks from her tightly closed lids, “Why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“I never… I never thought I’d get the chance…” She trails off, still hiding those gorgeous eyes from me.

“To what?” I furrow my brow, not quite following.

“To kiss you again.”

I inhale quickly to try and soften the blow her words deal straight to my chest. She’s yearned for this moment for months, just like I have.

She finally opens her eyes, “You left me and it’s all I’ve ever thought about. I-I-”

“Darlin’,” it’s my turn for my eyes to flutter closed, “I’ve regretted every day since that night. I regret my lapse in control, I regret not having a better grip on myself, to handle these urges.”

“Can you?” Her lips ghost over my own as she whispers her question, stealing the very thoughts from my brain. “Can you handle it now?”

I exhale a shuddering breath before my eyes snap open, “No.”

“No? Jasper-“

“You-I-“ a growl erupts before I could stop it, frustration at my own thoughts bubbling up. “I can’t fucking think for god’s sake.”

Will this girl ever learn that she controls me? That I bend to her? She has me wrapped securely around her delicate little pinky and she has no idea.

“I need to hunt before this weekend, but I will pick you up Saturday morning at your house.” I promise her, my nose gently rubbing against hers in a soothing motion.

“Okay.” Her breathless reply damn-near brings me to my knees.

“Darlin’?” I question her, slightly amused.

“Hmm?” Her eyes are closed, her emotions are just emanating absolute bliss.

“We still have half a school day to get through.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, her or myself.

“I’m not sure you can convince me to go.” Fuck.

“Darlin’, you gotta help me out here.” I scratch the base of her skull lightly to get her attention and it was definitely the wrong thing to do, her grip tightens on my shirt and her bliss burns a little heavier, almost suffocating me.

“Now why would I do that when I could just kiss you again?” Her eyes crack open, but I’m already in motion.

How could I argue with logic like that? My lips are on hers again before that beautiful pink mouth could part even a fraction.

Love, oh I could get used to this.

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #bless-my-demons #twilight #jasper hale #female reader insert

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santacoppelia · 8 months

Text

The HUGE analysis - This season starts and ends with a discussion, doesn't it?

Ok, my loves. This was one of the really long metas I've been working with, and probably the one that has taken me the longest (because it depended a lot on rewatching the season time and again).

I couldn't help to notice that the fist interaction Aziraphale and Crowley have in season 2 is a fight, really. Yeah, we have the beautiful “in the beginning” sequence, with both of them being angels and happy and all the such (oh, how lovely, Neil Gaiman planting the seeds of why it will matter to us that Aziraphale will not be fighting the idea of inviting Crowley to Heaven, because he remembers that happy, careless guy). But after the intro, we see them having a big disagreement… And we end the season in the biggest disagreement they have had, probably, in 6,000 years.

I love over-analyzing and dissecting narratives and characters, and more so if I can use only what we’ve been shown in the screen. Therefore, I believe that the first fight of the season tells us a lot of the things we will need to know to understand the final fight of the season between them. Let’s take a look, shall we?

The first fight is motivated by having an amnesiac Gabriel in the bookshop.

They see the same circumstance: Gabriel in the bookshop means trouble with Heaven. He is also an individual risk, because he has menaced Aziraphale directly (well, Crowley under the visage of Aziraphale).

It affects each of them differently: even when they both panic, Aziraphale feels compelled to be kind to Gabriel (gives him a blanket and hot cocoa) while Crowley has a full-on panic induced reaction and gets defensive.

They propose opposite solutions: Azi wants to do the Good thing, taking the “higher road” (help Gabriel), while Crowley wants to do His Own thing: “Protect the precious, peaceful, fragile existence I have carved for myself”

At that moment, Aziraphale corrects him and marks a “we”, which is very interesting. But immediately after that, Aziraphale gets all "my way or the highway".

Crowley asks for clarification, with a well-leveled tone of voice: “Is this how it is going to go?”

Azi clarifies "no, I want you to help me!" But then he does the passive-aggressive thing: "if you won't, you won't". (oh, Aziraphale, how you triggered me here, my dear chap. I was angry at the character the first 6 times I saw this)

Therefore, Crowley is out. He marks a clear limit: “I won't. You are on your own”, and then storms out. No Eccles cakes would help him: he needs a breather and counting to 10. That doesn't help either.

Crowley only comes back after gaining an extra perspective: the "extreme sanctions" talk with Beelzebub.

When he comes back, Aziraphale will stand his ground: he feels he deserves an apology, which is delivered via a “I was wrong, you were right” literal admission (even when he probably wasn't "right", but that's their way... And they've been doing it since 1650, or so they say). Then they are able to work together again.

Now, let’s see how this dynamic plays out in their last discussion of the season:

They come from different sides of the same experience: Crowley went to Heaven to investigate and learned about the plans to continue with the end of the world, while Aziraphale stayed defending the bookshop. Then Crowley saves the humans, while Aziraphale solved the Beelzebub + Gabriel affair.

They haven’t had time to talk, as they get interrupted by The Metatron. While he takes Aziraphale, Crowley receives a visit from Maggie and Nina.

Each one of them gained an extra different perspective: Azi, the Metatron proposal (and veiled menace); Crowley, the pep talk/scolding from the couple they were trying to get together.

This makes them develop different solutions:

Crowley wants to finally admit what Azi has been saying all the season: they are a "we" (Azi said so when Crowley talked about his “precious, peaceful, fragile existence”; he said it again when talking about “our car” and reinforced it with the bookshop)

Azi wants to take the "higher road": go to Heaven, reinstate Crowley as an angel, so they can still work together.

Crowley sees the “usual dynamic” of their disagreements coming: it will be Azi’s way (or the highway). That has happened before, in front of our eyes, and not only in this season: it happened also in season 1, but we have already attested that it is still happening, and it is even “worse” (Aziraphale being a little “petty” with the “if you do, it is fine, but if you won’t, you are on your own” in the Gabriel discussion).

Crowley gets indignant. He asks, tentatively, if he told him where to stick it… And then he reinforces his belief. We are better than that, YOU are better than that, you don’t need them, I don’t need them; then he makes the first mention of the offer of getting back to Hell (which he hadn’t shared with Aziraphale), and makes a new point: I said no, neither should you!

Aziraphale goes back to the “you are the bad guys!” thing. Heaven being the side of Truth, of Light, of Good… It is not the propaganda Crowley needed for this move.

Crowley then clarifies the fallacy in his logic: when Heaven ends life on Earth, it’ll be just as dead as if Hell ended it.

Aziraphale then sees the "undesirable result" coming: Crowley is not going to accept, not with that argument.

Crowley makes his plead grow in urgency: Tell me you said no.

Aziraphale’s pitch of voice goes high (usually used as a sign of distress): “If I’m in charge, I can make a difference.”

Crowley understands. This is his “my way or the highway” moment. That’s why he comes up with the courage to make his half-proposal-half admission.

Crowley never gets to state out loud the “I want us to be together in a formal way” part. His voice breaks before he does so. He mentions all of the reasons they have to stay together, which Aziraphale already knows: we have been together for a long time, we’ve been a group (“our own side” was the way he always said it before) and we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t (Azi also knows that! He has been working hard into making Crowley notice it!)

You can see, when they shoot Aziraphale’s face, he squints a little during that moment: maybe questioning, a little disbelief? As usual with Michael Sheen, it is a blink it and you’ll miss it moment.

After the grunt, Crowley proposes his alternative solution: going off together, using Beelzebub & Gabriel as an example that they could.

Therefore, what Aziraphale has just listened is what he already knew: yes, they are a “we”. Crowley wants to run away (he had proposed it twice during the Armageddidn’t, another pattern they have already established).

The next step is the usual way for Aziraphale: he reinforces his proposal: come with me, to Heaven. Ill’ run it, you can be my second in command. This idea has rubbed me wrong since the first time I watched this scene. Why remark the hierarchy? (not to say that I’m in Crowley’s side in here, but… It was weird and uncomfortable to think of them in a vertical power structure; they have always been equals).

Then, he goes back to making a difference, only it is “we” this time. Crowley is noticing he won’t back down… But Aziraphale usually doesn’t.

“You can’t leave this bookshop” works as a representation, a figure of speech. “This Bookshop” is “This life we have been building”, and they both understand it as such.

“Oh, Crowley… Nothing lasts forever…” For Aziraphale, it means he can leave this for something greater. For Crowley, it means… Actually, the same. But without him. Because he knows the “my way or the highway” side of Aziraphale, and none of them will budge. Aaaaand… that’s Crowley heart breaking. The rest of the scene happens with Crowley in “breakup mode”.

Aziraphale is used to “the discussion dance”. He Insists, “Crowley! Come back, to Heaven, work with me! We can be together, Angels! Doing good!”. He promises all he can: “come back, work with me, we can be together”, which have always been Crowley’s triggers to change his mind. However, the problem lies within the “angels doing good”. That’s the part that Aziraphale would need to let go before getting back to Crowley.

And then, he breaks down: “I need you!!” That has always worked! Aziraphale knows that Crowley loves being needed, he won’t leave his angel when in need, right?

And then, he gets angry. And he questions if Crowley has understood what he is offering, which transforms in an “I don’t think your exactly and my exactly are the same exactly” all over again.

Crowley is already brokenhearted, so he answers truthfully, as far as he knows. He understands how terrible the offer of going back to heaven is for both of them, and is not aware of the veiled threat in Metatron’s offer. He knows that going back to Heaven is a non-negotiable boundary, and Aziraphale is absolutely determined to cross it.

Aziraphale, then, does his passive-aggressive shit again: “I guess there is nothing more to say”. My guy, my love, you need to become better at negotiating with your loved one.

This is where Crowley decides to show, don’t tell, the hurt: no nightingales. And then… The “You idiot. We could have been… us” (no, you couldn’t, it was always too late!!! First the pandemic, which I’ve decided to treat as canon, then Gabriel. They never stood a chance).

In this context, Crowley’s kiss is a desperate way to say good-bye to the person he cared most for the last 6,000 years; also an angry way to regain some semblance of control and affect Aziraphale; and a final way to get some “closure”. Is there desire? Is there love? Maybe. But they are lost in a cocktail of emotions that have been stated during the rest of the discussion.

The angry “I forgive you”, which is also a usual dynamic for Aziraphale when he is angry with Crowley, gets there too late for Crowley to react to. He has already “checked out”. That’s why the “don’t bother” feels almost like an afterthought and comes after a small sigh.

After watching this 16 times, I’m pretty confident that the first thing Aziraphale mouths is a “no…” and then… he sobs a little. Michael Sheen, you’re a beautiful actor. The rest of it is a masterclass in using microexpressions to convey a whirlwind of emotions in under 2 minutes.

Sooooo... Did I hurt my own emotions while writing this? Yes. Did I absolutely need to do so? Also yes. Even when I like doing intertextual readings (and that's why I like bringing some theology to some of my musings), reading what is in "the text" (in the scenes we have watched, in the dialogues we've been shown) gives me an enormous amount of pleasure, and I find a lot of comfort in believing that most of the things that I'll need to understand and enjoy a great piece of media are being given to me inside it. And I believe Good Omens is a great piece of media!!

I have no Shakespeare to offer you this time. Let me know what you think!!

#good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #narrative analysis #character analysis #good omens #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #If I was into Academia this should be counted as a journal referenced publication #Making my Comms Sci degree useful for something

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sofasoap · 7 months

Text

Teddy bear - 2

Pairing: John Price x F! Reader

Summary: A quiet home date with the handsome mutton chop. Part 1 here

Warning: M Theme. Alcohol use. otherwise generalised fluff.

A/N: Part of the 141Challenge!! Thank you @glitterypirateduck the wonderful CoD fanfic and fanart curator for organising another festival :D you are awesome.

Prompt used:

Kitchen

Thunderstorm/Rain

Caught in the rain

Trust me

John Price Masterlist

Masterlist

“Hello teddy bear lady, we really should stop meeting like this.”

The handsome stranger, later introduced himself as John Price, ended up exchanging numbers after you bump into him ( again ) at the pub.

Your niblings, especially your niece, were happy to see the “furry man” again, They couldn’t stop retelling the stories for days until your sister told them to give her a bit of peace and quiet.

Your sister was quite surprised when he showed up on the doorstep, picking you up for the date.

“Oh.. so.. He exists.” your sister elbowed you, she couldn’t contain the surprise on her face.

“.. you think I made up the whole story with the kids just to pull a prank on you??” you rolled your eyes.

“OHHHHH… your furry face feels so nice..!” Lizzy, your niece was again amazed by John’s facial hair and arm hair.

John smiled at her as he held his arms out and let your niece poke and probe at his hair and mutton chop.

“How about your legs? You say your legs are hairy too? Can I have a look?”

“Lizzy!” you chided. “Where are your manners! You don’t just go around and ask people to expose their body parts!”

“Well… you went on and on about it for days after about it too… Remember?” Your sister mumbled under her breath.

“I did not!!!” you retorted, face started to burn up with embarrassment. Shooting a look at John, who is quite amused by the conversation between the three of you.

Oh heavens. He must be thinking how strange your whole family is. Great. He is probably thinking of ways to bail out on you right now. But he just laughed as he retracted his arm and stood back up.

Surprisingly, he didn’t bail out on you. At the end of the night, he gently took hold of your hands, gazing softly at you with his beautiful blue eyes, quietly asking you on another date.

“I had a lovely time tonight. Can I see you again? I’ll cook for you. I can’t guarantee it will be michelin star quality but I promise you it is a lot better than the MRE ”

A man offers to cook for you? Who can say no to that?

You flinched as you felt the droplet of rain start hitting your face. Damn it, you thought, should have listened to the weather report and brought my brolly. Now I probably have to call for a cab to get to the station afterwards. You huffed. Shrugging off the tote bag around your shoulder, and cradling it under the long coat like some valuable treasure to prevent it getting wet.

Or maybe he would ask you to stay for the night, and you might get lucky for once…..

Shaking your head to get that dirty thought out of your brain, This is only the second date! Maybe I need to bleach my brain. Ugh, better run faster, hair is getting wet. You quicken your pace to run towards the destination before the rain starts pelting down on you.

Double checking the address on your phone as you come up to an unassuming house at the end of a row of terrace houses. Adjusting your hold on the tote bag, you took a deep breath in before you knocked on the plain looking dark brown door, and took a step back, squaring your shoulder, waiting for him to answer the door. Few seconds later you heard the hurrying footsteps before the door opened.

There stands John Price, in a black dress pants and simple navy blue shirt, sleeves rolled up, tea towel slung over his shoulder. How does a man always make the simplest clothing look so good?

Your eyes quickly flick down towards the half apron he had on. Tight around his waist.

That slutty waist.

Ok, you really need to get yourself into a nunnery after this to cleanse all these unholy thoughts.

Taking one look at your slightly damp coat and wet hair, John frowned. "I should have gone and picked you up, I am sorry." He apologises as he quickly ushers you inside. "I was too caught up in the cooking to notice the weather outside."

"No need to apologise, I should have heeded the warning from the weather bureau." you replied as he helped you to take off the coat and hang it up by the door. “I won’t melt like the wicked witch of the west with a little bit of rain.” you joked.

“I got the heater going, come inside and you should warm up, you must be cold.” John commented as he gently put his hand on the small of your back as he led you inside.

You glance around as you walk past the corridor and living room. It's a minimalistically decorated flat. There’s no television, a simple bookshelf, a three seater couch with a plain coffee table.

A bachelor’s pad that he hardly lives in.

“I don’t stay in this place a lot,” he said, as if sensing the question floating in your mind. “I also have a room I stayed in on site at the base if I work too late. Which is most of the time.”He chuckled.

“Bit of a workaholic?” You teased, remembering what the three other men’s words about their Captain the night at the pub.

“You sure you want to date him bonnie?” the mohawk man who the others called Soap asked. “The Captain is an absolute workaholic, if he isn’t out on the field training with the crew, he is stuck in the office, nose deep in paperwork. Sorry Captain. Not trying to interfere with your chance at luring a bonnie into bed…”

The other two nodded their heads in agreement. John just groaned and shook his head, clearly not amused at Soap’s jabbing. You actually find it quite endearing, how close the four of them are just from their interaction, despite the differences in ranks.

“Red or white?”

“Um. uh, red please…” you hastily replied as you broke out from your reverie, realising you are now standing in front of the kitchen. Setting down the container of baked goods onto the kitchen bench, you fidget your hand nervously as he pours you a glass of wine.

“Can I.. Can I help with anything?” you offered meekly, wanting to do something to distract yourself.

Shaking his head, he recorked the bottle and guided you to sit down on the stool. “I got it all under control. Trust me. I wouldn’t burn the kitchen down.” he smirked. “Just relax. Dinner shouldn’t be too long.” he reassures you before turning around and walking towards the oven.

A pleasant savoury aroma wafting through the air as he opens the open door to check the food inside.

“That smells really good.” you lean forward, inhaling the scent. “What’s on the menu?”

“Shepherd's Pie. with sides of vegetables and salad.”

He chuckles as your eyes brighten with the mentioning of the dish. “I know it’s your favourite. It’s the first time I made it.I hope It won’t disappoint.”

How does he know it’s your favourite?

The dinner turns out to be absolutely delicious. He was, you have to admit, quite a decent cook. you couldn’t help to let out a moan as you took a bite of the steaming hot pie.

The pie was well seasoned, the broccolini was well pan fried, and the salad was well dressed.

Everything was simple, but well done to perfection.

He chuckled as you quickly inhaled the portion of your pie. “I am taking that is a good sign that I have done this right?”

You took a sip of the red wine, washing down the delicious food, as you shyly smiled at him, slightly embarrassed. You are still slightly tense and nervous in a private environment.Just you, and him. You never had anyone else invite you to a date at their house before.

But part of you is glad he invited you over tonight. You get to see the real, more relaxed John Price side of him, without other people’s prying eyes, without him having to put up a front of being the Captain.

“Oh dear, it’s really bucketing down outside now..” you mumbled as the sound of rain hitting the window caught your attention. The two of you shifted yourself from the dining table onto the couch after dinner, to get more comfortable as you sip on the hot herbal tea, nibbling on the chocolate biscuits you have baked as a simple dessert. You reach forward towards the coffee table for your phone, checking for the next train timetable.

Your heart dropped when the pop up notice on the website shows all trains have been suspended due to the severe weather and heavy rain.

“Damn..nothing is running…” you groaned. You quickly open the ride share app to see if there are any rides nearby, it’s going to cost you a bit, but that’s probably your only way home now. Nothing was showing up either. You guess with how bad the weather is and even the public transports are all suspended, no one is going to risk their life driving on the road.

“Stay for the night?” He offered in a quiet voice as he saw your worried face, struggling to decide what to do.

“You take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” he quickly added as your eyes grew wide at his previous suggestions, as if afraid he’s giving you the wrong idea.

Forever a gentleman.

You shook your head as you replied, “Um, I’ll take the couch, this is your home, I can’t kick a host onto the couch!”

“I insist.” you were ready to debate with him, but one look from him ( the same look he gave to Soap and Gaz at the pub when they started to get a bit too rowdy) had you swallow down the words back in again.

So now, you are sitting on top of his freshly made bed with crisp clean linen. Wearing some old t-shirts and sweatpants he managed to dig up in the death of his closet. . You subconsciously bring the overhanging sleep up towards your face, taking sniff. Smells exactly like him. Slight faint cigar and cologne smell. Making you feel really relaxed, and safe.

“This looks very military style. Did you even manage to iron the bed while I was in the shower??” you teased as you inspected the crease free bed sheet.

“Old habit dies hard.” he blushed as he turned his face away, not looking at you. “If you need me. I’m just down the hallway.” he cleared his throat, trying to cover up his fluster as he bid goodnight to you. “Have a good sleep. I will see you in the morning.”

“John.”

“Hmm?” he turned towards you as he rested his hand on the door knob, eyebrow raised.

You shuffle yourself to the end of the bed, and walk towards him. Feeling brave, you reach your hands up, gently tugging him down to your height, and press a light kiss on his cheek, feeling his mutton chop tickle your face.

“Goodnight. And thank you for letting me stay.” you whispered, looking into his beautiful blue eyes after you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him.

His eyes flicker with emotion. Lips press tight, as if trying to control himself. Slowly letting out a breath, he pulls you into his embrace, kissing you gently on the head.

“Don’t mention it. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bug bites.”

The only thing that was biting you that night was a bug called love.

“Captain, you let her sleep alone on your bed??? Oh these biscuits are good”

“What a gentleman.”

“.. I’ll go make some tea. I hope you at least made her breakfast the next day.”

“Shut up you muppets. Get back to work.”

Sorry I was half brain dead writing this. Part 3 might come out... sometime... later.

Tag:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @mmyrrhh, @gamergirlbones

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar,

@whydoilikewhump @captainpriceslover, @tapioca-marzipan @glitterypirateduck @caramlizedtomatoes

#call of duty #captain john price #john price x you #john price x reader #john price imagine #john price #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #captain price #captain price x y/n #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #sofasoap writes #141challenge

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charliemwrites · 4 months

Note

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m too selfish with you.”

A simple sentence, one filled with a sentiment that many have felt before when balancing a relationship. But they were enough to bring Nikto’s entire universe to a standstill when they escaped your mouth. You? Too selfish?? Especially when it comes to him????? You could demand that he crucify himself for you, and he would walk into the arms of the cross like he is returning home, breathing in the scent of the cedar as it mixes with the iron of the nails that he strikes through his feet and hands and the blood that weeps from the wounds. You could ask him to drown the rest of the world, and he would tear the heavens open to cause waters to rise. He could become a plague upon humanity at the slightest hint of your desires, and you worry that you are being too selfish with him? When you have barely asked a single thing of him? Your commandments, though they are laws onto him and his actions, though craved into the wall of his bunk, were not orders. You never asked for his devotion, never demanded that he follow you, worship you, and, oh doesn’t that make you all the more worthy of it? So why do you now stand in front of him, shying away from his gaze, looking like a guilty sinner as you confess your perceived selfishness of him? Had he failed you so completely that you doubted his fidelity? What else could he possibly do to prove it to you? Every act of devotion the Bible has taught him is either is impossible for him (there is no family to sacrifice, no world-ending flood to build an ark for, nothing) or would go against your happiness (he would throw himself into fire while singing you praises, but he knows that goes against your first commandment and would make you extremely upset instead of happy). He feels trapped in that moment, staring at you, feeling like he failed you as your most devoted servant, when you finally speak again.

“You never ask anything of me. Every day, you follow behind me like my shadow, you treat me as some sort of deity, yet you ask for nothing from me. After I asked you to help me when I was injured, you asked for nothing in return. Even when I know you are aroused, you don’t even ask for time away from me to take care of it yourself, and I know I shouldn’t force you to do anything with me like that, I know that it’s probably a physical reaction more than you actually being attracted to me, but the fact that you won’t even separate from me to jack off when you need it all because I selfishly told you to always come back to me that one time, or because you feel like you owe me for being your nurse, and it makes me feel so selfish that I haven’t done anything to free you from me, when you deserve it, you deserve happiness, and release and freedom and-“

Nikto has been your shadow for a while now, has been on the receiving end of you talking endlessly multiple times before. It was one of the things that first made him comfortable with you: you talking at him instead of to him because you knew he didn’t want to talk. But never before had this habit made him feel quite so desperately hopeless as it currently is. You think he isn’t attracted to you? You are more beautiful than words could possibly describe! He could know every language to ever exist, and still be left desperately searching for a way to properly tell you just how stunning he finds every single piece of you. No picture or drawing, no landscape, no human, no galaxy, no poem or verse, nothing could EVER come close to being even a fraction as beautiful as you are. And if Nikto were someone else, maybe he could will himself into saying this out loud. But he isn’t. Nikto is only himself, could only ever be himself, and these thoughts in his head stay swirling around while his tongue feels like lead within his mouth. Nikto isn’t a man of words, so he does the best he can, and he grabs you gently, and kisses you.

It’s not the best kiss. You were cut off in the middle of talking, and Nikto, so panicked over the idea of you not knowing his worship is so much more than simple Hero Worship for his nurse, didn’t even remove his soft mask that he wears around base. But Nikto is desperate, and so are his lips underneath the soft cotton of the mask. They work against your own, and it’s clumsy at best. Any kisses Nikto has had before were lost to him in the trauma of his rebirth, leaving him unsure of his actions but certain in his intent. Yes, he may not know how to kiss you in this new body you claim he inhabits, but fuck if the feeling of your lips against his, even through the mask, doesn’t feel like the closest thing to heaven he will ever find. And a part of him feels like he has been knocked into the pits of hell with how hot he burns for you, finally able to feel some of the thrumming arousal that had been living within him, just for you.

If Nikto is left with a growing wet spot in his boxers when he pulls away from your lips, he won’t tell. At least, not if you don’t ask about it. Because he could never deny his Savior anything that you ask. And when you look at him, dazed but with stars in those beautiful eyes, and asks him “please, just ask for what you want. Don’t just secretly covet it. I want to give you as much as you’ve given me”, he agrees, because there is nothing else for him to do.

A new commandment for his wall, a new law by which he lives. And he already knows the first thing he will ask for from you, since the taste has left him starving.

Just… no words. Incredible.

#these are being added to the au #because they’re brilliantly written and I was given permission #and because they deserve to be there

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vagabond-umlaut · 7 months

Text

parterre

Lord Nanami is a knight, yes. A very esteemed one at that. But does anyone know he is an impressive gardener too? Well, he is— for he is the one, who caused these many flowers of these many hues to bloom in the landscape of your heart— so much so that you've not the slightest idea on how to manage them all well.

▸ knight!Nanami x lady-in-waiting!Reader; Historical AU; Tons of Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Crushes; Pining [is it mutual, however?]; Jealousy; Misunderstandings; Teasing; Did I already say this is so sweetly fluffy, you might end up with cavities? Oh. Okay. Cool :); Reader is so terribly down bad for Nanami, it's become a matter of mild concern; She is called a harmless little nickname by the princess here; THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN AS A LITTLE CELEBRATORY GIFT TO NANAMI NATION, AFTER THE FEAST THAT JJK 2.12 WAS FOR Y'ALL ;))

▸ Behold, the thesis I mentioned to you last night, Julie my sweetest pie. 🤭🤭🤭 Hope you'll enjoy reading this! 🫶🫶 @nanamikentoseyebags

▸ I don't own the characters or image used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. Enjoy reading! ❤️

Nanami Kento is no simple man. He is one crafted wondrously by the heavens. A veritable evidence, if there ever were any, of the existence of some greater being— powerful enough to make a man such as the knight. Merciful enough to make him live in the same time frame and place as you do.

A wistful sigh falls past your lips as you begrudgingly tear your focus away from the training grounds and direct it to the scalding coffee at hand, though it takes but two mere two seconds before you find your eyes darting to the open window yet again– skimming over the many heads out there– wanting to find only one blond head– heart beating far too many beats when you hear the name of its owner being yelled out once again—

The utterance of your title in court drags you away from your frantic search, to the mildly smiling face of the princess: Sleepy, yes– But a lot more awake than she was five minutes ago. You rush to offer her your greetings, only to stop when she lifts a finger and tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed a pinch.

"That was Kento's name being hollered, wasn't it, Petals?"

You aren't certain which infuriates you more— that the princess used your childhood nickname well into your adulthood– or that she called Knight Nanami by his first name, a privilege he is known to grant to a very select few—

Compelling your face to shift into a smile, you nod. "I'm afraid it was, Your Highness."

"And was it yet another lady cheering for his victory in a match, huh?" she queries, kicking the covers off her feet and landing onto the floor with a loud thud. Wincing lightly, you quickly shake your head 'no'.

"It wasn't, Your Highness. The voice sounded much like Lord Haibara."

A quiet hum comes in response to your observation– soon shadowed over by the off-key singing of rather... indelicate songs, you're certain no one of an upbringing as royal and guarded as your princess should know— before the lyrics pause– all of a sudden– the moment she sits down at the table and looks out the window.

At the ongoing duel between Nanami and Geto, swords clanging and their bare chests shining in the early morn sun.

The very sight making every drop of blood in your vessels to rush to your cheeks, flooding them with colour– whilst your gaze roves with no trace of shame over the well-built physique of the solemn blond– lingering in particular on the toned muscle of his arms and forearms, flexing and extending as his fingers grasp the hilt of the weapon and the muscles in his legs strain against the tight fabric of his slacks, as the knight moves in a spell-binding dance of danger and tact against his opponent.

A huff of a chuckle escapes you when the former lands a solid hit on the latter; no one can match him in his prowess at wielding a sword; making a tendril of pride unfurl in the centre of your chest, only for it to shrivel in the heat of envy the princess' chortle ignites in that very same place.

You make no efforts to stop the words tumbling out your mouth next. Nor the tense frown which nestles into your tinted lips, throwing your face into lines and ridges.

"Is Lord Nanami courting you, Your Highness?"

"What!?!?" Not even an instant elapses before the exclamation leaves your listener. You continue, pretending to be unperturbed by the way innumerable shades of shock and incredulity colour her countenance.

"I mean, you call him by his first name, and he too does the same for you. Besides, the both of you have often been spotted to be strolling in the gardens together, easily chatting and smiling... not to mention the ball held last winter solstice when you two entered the ball, side-by-side— it is not only me who me who wonders so, milady," you add when you notice her back straigthening and she returning the cup to the saucer, "The court is rife with suppositions, on the nature of your relationship with Lord Nanami."

A beat passes in tense silence in response to your expressed musings— before the hush is disrupted by a very grave-sounding query, from the lady across. "What do you look for in a future life partner, Petals?"

"Me?" you ask, index finger pointed at yourself.

The princess gives a nod. "Yes, you, Your Grace."

Your nose wrinkles at such ill-considered usage of such high-ranking titles— nevertheless, you find yourself brushing those concerns away to mull over much more important matters...

A good while passes before you form a reply. Focus zeroing on a tiny coffee stain on your dress, you begin.

"Someone who is calm and collected, stoic and serious. He should be strong too, not just in brawn but in brain and matters of heart as well. He must be strict and disciplined, but must have a gentle, caring side to him too. Won't hurt if he's a traditional romantic, giving me flowers and sweet compliments instead of the terrible comments men say to the ladies these days. And..."

You trail off, losing yourself in your mind, before resuming, in a muted murmur this time, "It might be really nice if he lets me be of those few who can call him by his name– and he becomes comfortable enough, to call me by my name. And accompany me on walks in the garden in the afternoons. And perhaps, even, ask me to the balls where we may wear matching outfits, and present ourselves as a couple before all."

A hand comes to rest over your folded ones. You look up to find a bit too wide smile resting on the princess' lips. She offers your hands an easing squeeze.

Little does she know it does little to ease your turbulent emotions— a feeling which worsens with the observations she voices to you next.

"I was terrified your beautiful mind was tainted by the disease of idle inquisitiveness, as happens to most in this world with age, you know," she hums, standing up and making you sit in her chair, "I'm very glad to conclude, that's not quite the case. However– I cannot say your so lovely mind is disease-free either, my sweet Petals."

Your brows gather together in confusion as you peer at her, eyes in a narrow stare. She continues– smile growing a touch of tenderness.

"Your mind has been afflicted with the awful ailment of lovesickness. And–" she says, putting greater emphasis on her syllables, when you attempt to protest her statement, "it is usually incurable, unless very great feats of bravery are performed by the patient themselves, or in the off-chance, the fates decide to be helpful and the person behind the mess makes the first move— but I must say, Your Grace, you are very lucky to have me as your consulting physician— for I know what will provide you interim relief until either of them happens— want to know what it is?"

You take a moment to consider before returning a slow, unsure nod.

The princess beams. "It's the knowledge of the fact, there's someone who matches every criteria you mentioned, to a T— and that– he has his eyes reserved for none, except one beautiful lady-in-waiting, who stares at the training ground from the windows of the princess' room every single morning— looking as fresh and vibrant as the nickname, the princess insists on calling her."

Your friend pauses for a beat— not that you really notice it over the thrum of your blood in your ears and your heart in your chest— she inquires, "You understood the prescription, didn't you, Petals?"

A high-pitched squeal– so unseemly, so embarrassed, so jubilant– is the only response you manage, retreating into the cushion, hiding the warmth of your face and the stretch of your smile behind your palms.

▸ masterlist

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twistedbloodstain · 9 months

Text

marquis de gramont x assistant!reader: i breathe flames each time i talk | love’s not supposed to be easy.

plot: the one where he has you but at what cost?

warnings: kidnapping, coercion, dubious consent, guys this has went for a dark turn :(, none of them gets any peace

masterlist

shards of glass fly through the wall behind him, vincent bites his tongue from cursing, a slightly frustrated frown slowly making its way to his face. he stops himself from visibly sighing or showing any sign of his genuine worry over another expensive irreplaceable vase broken on the floor.

instead, he worries about the best possible way to diffuse the situation in front of him.

which is you.

you, who he is irrevocably in love with. the person he wants most more than anything in this world, you’re the sweet heaven placed on this earth that was meant to be cherished by him, you who gave him the captivating feeling of affection.

you taught him to know what it was like to find a piece of himself he’s yearned for in years, a part that he denied to have existed in fear of being weak and vulnerable oh but no, you make him feel the other way around. when he feels your presence and grace, he feels like salvation and strength has entered the room itself.

you make him feel safe, in a way. he feels at peace when he’s with you. all his heedless ambition stood no chance against having you in his life the moment you almost died for him in that fateful night. he felt the need to immediately shelter you from the cruel world, he wouldn’t offer the universe a chance to take you away from him ever again. vincent swore he would cherish you, make every second of your life a sweet memory for the rest of your lives together. he took you to keep you safe and happy, he swears even if you don’t realize that you need it.

which is why what faces him, hurts him as much as it hurts you.

you’re standing at least a few meters away from him next to the table filled with saccharine fruits and decorated cakes, your form shaking from fear. earlier you had just grabbed the nearest vase and threw it at him the second he stepped into the room to join you for a quick snack. tears were already slipping down your cheeks as small sobs escaped your lips, the soft satin gray dress wrapped around your body made you look like a goddess on earth. it was the first thing that entered his mind before he noticed the projectile being flung to his face, thankfully he managed to dodge it in time and the vase smashed into the wall behind him.

he doesn’t know why this is happening.

or maybe he does. vincent is not a blind man to the truth, he does not relish in the bliss ignorance offers. he thinks anyone who enjoys that form of bliss is a coward who refuses to deal with reality. after all, if you’re dealing with a rather difficult predicament you wish to resolve, you need to face the hard truths and all plausible cards at hand. ignorance cannot play a part into it.

but when he looks at you, he realizes why people place themselves into that situation. he asks the same questions and pretends he doesn't know why you’ve thrown vases at him, why your tears only seem to drip when he’s in the room for the past two weeks. all truths he spurns to know.

“my love? what’s wrong?” he begins, vincent takes a step forward and reaches his hand out to you, a shard cracks as it was crushed under the weight of his foot, you eye him warily and instantly flinch to step back.

“no. stay away from me.” you scream. “don’t come any closer.”

“you know i can’t even if i wanted to.” he whispers looking into your eyes, he doesn’t listen to your words and takes a step closer. it makes things worse as another sob leaves your body.

“don’t bullshit me! in all my years i’ve worked with you, i know if you wanted to, you would.” you reply, “you just won’t try hard enough!”

“why do you find it so hard to accept?” he questions, frustration getting the better of him. he walks straight to you, startled by his sudden movements, you stammer on your feet but he gets to you quick, he grips your arms and holds you close.

“mon amour, every man on this earth could attempt to pry you away from me but i would burn this world to the ground if it meant i could return to you. i want you, i love you.” he confesses.

probably for the 20th time of the week.

“stop. stop it.” you struggle in his grip as more tears collect on your face.

“why? you have no reason to refuse me-“

“you kidnapped me! you took me from my home and locked me into your estate, i can’t even move a single finger without the guards or the maids reporting everything i do!” you struggled.

“all to keep you safe, there are people out there who want you dead. i am protecting you, mon amour.” he reasons.

“i don’t want it, i want to go home.” you beg. this is what the both of you go through everyday, sometimes it occurs during meal times like right now, but more often than not it happens the moment he comes forward to greet you a “good morning” in bed or before the both of you get ready to sleep at night.

he prefers to deal with you like this when you’re both in the confinements of his bedroom, it’s much easier to lull you with his sweet words and hold you because for a minute or two you don’t twist against and grip but rather lean into it. you don’t spit out those incomprehensible thoughts of leaving him or begging for him to let you go.

he would rather die than lose you.

“please…vincent just let me go. i want to go home, you have to let me go.” you plead, you’re now holding his wrists close up to your body. in a different scenario, he would’ve been fucking delighted to have this, to have you touch him with such softness but your words do the opposite effect as the idea of being without you sink into his sick head.

vincent takes control of his hands and brings your palms up to his lips, placing a soft kiss. he watches your reaction slowly, tears weren’t as present as it was before on your face, he likes it when you look calm it reminds him of the days the both of you spent together as boss and employee. serenity was always a good look on you.

“you are home, you’re right where you need to be…with me.” he states, “what i have to give you, my love…it shouldn’t trap you. it’s meant to make you feel the same way you make me feel but i can’t love you if you won’t help yourself.”

“if you would just let me love you, you’ll see.”

your face contorts back to your former anguish. teardrops begin falling down again but you don’t fight to get away from him, his arms snake behind your waist as he guides you into an embrace with him.

no matter how big of a fit you throw or how expensive of a vase you fling at him, this is how it always ends. for the two weeks you’ve spent here, hopefully you’ve realized that there is no force in this world strong enough to separate you from him. not even your tears and not even you.

you fold the velvety blanket in a slow but precise movement, your gaze locked on the person asleep on the other side of the room, suddenly hearing a loud roar of thunder crack outside your vision redirects to the large window. you hold your breath in fear of the storm abruptly waking him, thankfully it doesn’t happen and you stop mid-chore to trudge your way to the window so you could shut the curtains.

“everything is okay.” you shakily whisper to yourself.

your voice betrays you with that statement, you keep telling yourself that everything is alright, that you should be grateful that he isn’t cruel to you, that even in your rebellious and distasteful behavior for the past year he still showers you in finery and love.

it’s been awhile since you’ve thrown a fit at him.

you took some of his words into your behavior ever since your last squabble, you tell yourself that what he has to offer is good. that maybe you’re in the wrong in this one, so for the past months no matter how much you want to resist, you don’t swat his hand away when he touches you, you don’t shove him away when he holds you and you keep your head in place when he kisses you to please him.

and god it certainly did. he already seemed to glimmer brighter when he took you back to his estate but when you stopped shoving him away, his presence was impalpable, he looked like was a king that finally had his queen.

but you? oh dear.

all your reevaluation for your mindset did seem to work, there were moments when you enjoyed being with him. the late night dinners and touches that sometimes make your heartbeat a little too fast for your liking, his sweet words that move you which makes you think that it was too good to be true sometimes it makes you forget that he’s keeping you here against your own will.

oh.

it’s moments like these that make you stay still and cling to your fucking sanity, you want to get out of here. you do, but how? you are isolated in his home, no one in the staff treats you the same anymore they don’t listen to you unless you have a simple request. you have no one but the marquis, who is the last person that probably wants to hear about your desire to get out of here. your days are filled with him and only him, from the moment you wake up in bed he’s beside you, either in slumber or kissing you for the morning. you see him for meals three times a day until the sun sinks into the horizon where he makes love to you in the shadow of moonlight. not to mention the gallery viewing, watching operas and other superficial shit he likes.

you have no ally in here.

your form shakes and you cling to the table beside you, you want to leave so bad but every time you come up with an idea to leave it seems impossible. your former escape route has been rendered useless, you tried that the moment the marquis left you alone for the first time and it was barred shut with a guard stationed nearby. soon the marquis found out, he was livid and kept you locked in your room for a few days.

any chance of escape is hopeless even if you have no reason to want to stay here.

the storm brewing outside roars another loud burst of thunder, much louder than the previous one, the rain outside begins to shower even stronger. a cry erupts from the other side of the room and you sigh. you stare at the crib at the corner, a lamplight illuminating the dim room, you take a deep breath to compose yourself and make your way towards him.

your son.

with him.

it still makes you sick thinking about it.

you lift him into your arms and he immediately snuggles into your neck, his chubby arms slightly flailing around to feel your warmth. you shush him to sleep, whispering sweet nothings to soothe him. thankfully, his cries instantly die down and mumbles gibberish, slowly falling back to slumber. you found out you were pregnant around the time, you threw the vase at him. you felt frustrated and trapped, because how could this happen to you?

you hold him tight, and softly swaddle him around to calm him even more. you know the saying “if there’s a will, there’s a way.”, well you had so much of that if it weren’t for the child you brought out into this world you would’ve been insistent on getting out of here. you love your son, you do. but you find it so hard to go on when the weight of a child is pulling you down from what you want.

this is the only reason why you were willing to try being with him. as if things weren’t hopeless enough for you, maybe things shouldn’t be so bad for your child. after all, vincent was quite cheerful when he found out.

you press a soft kiss to his head, whispering a gentle affirmation before tucking him back into his crib.

pushing the door to enter the inside, you reluctantly walk in. you’ve done this several times before, yet when you do it, it still doesn’t feel natural. the room was dim, little illuminessence was present and the light from your bed lamp was the only thing keep things seen.

you walk towards the bedpost and something inside you makes you stop, a figure moves beneath the satin sheets and you hold your breath. he opens his eyes and sees you, confusion staining his expression. he immediately sits up and urges you forward.

“cherie? is something wrong?” vincent murmurs, his voice still hoarse from sleep. you don’t say anything but instead you abandon the bedpost and sit on the foot of the bed. you give him an empty stare and he stays quiet awaiting your reply.

“the storm woke him up.” you reply.

“oh? i’ll call for the nanny.”

“don’t. i already put him back to sleep.” you mutter.

“then what seems to be the problem?” he raises his eyebrows.

you eye him like he grew a second head, matter of fact he might as well have with what he did to you.

“how-“ you start but a cry leaves your throat. tears begin to gather on your eyes, vincent alarmed with your state leans forward, “how could you do this to me?”

“what do you mean, my love?” he asks puzzled.

“what do i mean? i meant how could you do this to me!” your voice gets louder but not loud enough to be yelling, the rain outside pours even harder.

“a year ago, i was just your assistant dealing with your meetings and setting your finery. you wouldn’t have even spared me a single glance unless you wanted a chef from monaco to cook you dinner considering i wasn’t significant enough to be known by you. i have to admit working for you was frightening but it was okay. i was alright with that.” you sob.

“this again.” he sighs.

“now, you locked me up here. a few months ago i was pregnant with your kid. mind you, even if you won’t say it i know you never wanted children. do you know how stupid this looks? how irrational and insensible this all seems? i’ve always known you to be cruel but this…this is torture. you’re playing house with my life like it’s some sick game” you reason not giving him a chance to speak.

“going through all these lengths because something in your sick head is telling you that you’re in love with me, acting like you wouldn’t discard me the moment you find me unworthy of your attention. ” you finish. he stays quiet from your little rant, dare you say a bit shocked. truth be told, it had been a while since you did this.

“what do you want me to do? tell me what to do, so i can make it better.” he demands, “i want you to be happy. i dislike seeing you miserable like this when you should be having the happiest time of your life. recently, we just had a child-“

“then let me go.” you cut him off, scooting closer to his side of the bed. you reach for his hands and he lets you, even when the expression on his face seems bitter.

“let me go home. i don’t want to be here, i feel trapped. at some point, you know that i don’t want you the same way you claim to want me. i don’t love you, i don’t think i can even if i tried my best. you need to let me leave, vincent.” you beg with all your heart.

vincent stays silent and wipes the tears on your face. he leans forward in resignation and delicately grazes his hand on your jaw making you look into him.

“my love. i don’t care how long it takes to make you realize that my feelings are genuine, that my acts aren’t based on flights of fancy, i’d spend the rest of my life proving it to you with a few more children around. you need to understand that i’m never letting you go, because i would simply die.” he whispers.

“you are mine. i am yours. not even you can deny that, you belong to me and i, you. you are my love, i am too far gone to lose you. how many people are lucky enough to say that?”

he kisses you after that, his lips softly envelop yours and it shocks you but the feeling and taste are so familiar to you know. you don’t get the chance to say anything in return as you feel his hand dancing around your nightgown, you could feel it slowly slipping down. vincent’s hand dances around your skin, going through your curves that he’s felt before.

“and this is alright with you?” you mumble as he guides you to your back, pressing kisses on your neck.

“what is?” he pauses slightly looking up at you before continuing to leave a mark on your neck.

“that i’ll never want you…ever.” you trace your palm up to his jaw, caressing it while giving the poisonous blow.

this makes him halt all his movements and looks into you as if you’re serious. you might be.

“then i’ll have to simply have to live with it. love is never supposed to be easy.” he chuckles before kissing you again.

author’s note: this was short but enjoyed it lots bc there’s drama hehe. assistant!reader getting her licks before he goes down on her was a last minute thing…anyways if you were expecting peace and hugs from this fic hell to the nah i want angst. marquis is relentless afff. thanks for reading and pls like and reblog :)) also send some of ur requests!!

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katsukiizmoon · 1 year

Text

Katsuki Bakugo x F!Reader | 18+ | Royal ! AU

Synopsis: The years have flown by with Katsuki, who fills your body and mind with fire. You'll keep him with you till the day you die and then after that, thanking whatever deities there are for him. Maybe you were put on this earth to love him, like every other lifetime.

Tags: Prince!Bakugo, Characters aged up, Reader & Katsuki are sexually inexperienced, Virginity loss, Smut, Unprotected sex, lovey dovery, mushy gushy, parents don't approve, kissing, flirting, general cute shit, fluff, happy ending, praise

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Holy fuck I wrote this in one day. I don't even know how I just kept writing and writing. I need to go get food now because I forgot to eat. This is so sickingly sweet your teeth are going to rot man. One suggestive scene, one smut scene, and a lot of praise. Kinda wanna do a part two to this...

Your feet press into the grass below you, twisting as you turn to view Katsuki. His face glows in the morning sun, specks of what looks like stardust grace his cheeks and your breath catches in your throat. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on in your twenty-three years of existence. For a moment, you truly soak in the idea of being put on this god forsaken planet just to meet him. Him, who sweeps your feet out from under you and lets you fall instead of catching you. There’s something otherworldly about his entire being and you’re positive you’ve loved him in every over life you’ve lived.

You run, feet digging into the dirt and thin dress bouncing as you do so. And you turn again, just to look at him. Who stands tall and broad, shoulders square and eyes forward at all times. Who raises a brow at you with a scoff as your hand reaches toward him. And your feet catch up under you, tripping on one another as you plummet to the ground. Dirt smears onto the side of your leg and a sprig of grass presses into your nose. Air knocked out of you, you lay heaving and looking up to where the stars once were and where they will be again.

“Goddamnit! I told you not to go running around, clumsy ass.” Katsuki hurries over in a few quick strides and peers over at you.

And god may the heavens, the hells, and anything between save your poor soul. His hair falls from his forehead, deep garnet eyes bore into your own and you think you’re going to die. You’ll do anything for him, in any moment, for just a taste of his partially chapped lips. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, then he releases the poor flesh, and his mouth opens. Then closes. Then it opens again and closes. This time, however, his jaw clenches as he does so. A thick palm reaches towards you for a moment and you take it.

“That was fun.” You gleam, with a toothy smile.

“No, honey, that was you being a dumbass.” He reminds.

“Oh yeah?” You grin, teeth dipping into your bottom lip as you ponder a thought. His brows raise before his eyes narrow. The cherry irises dig a hole in your soul and call it home, planting little seeds of wanderlust there. He knows you’re planning something.

Katsuki can tell by the way your fingers twitch like you’re resisting an inch, the uncontrollable grin spreading across your face. What he doesn’t know is what you’re planning. The gods have truly blessed him with a wild one, he thinks. Of all the rules he is expected to follow within the kingdom he lives, you are not one of them. His parents threw a toddler sized hissy fit when they started noticing the blush spreading across your cheeks when he was around. Their voices raising in anger, fists smacking down on the thick oak table that was meticulously crafted for only the most exquisite dinners. He denied it over and over, still to this day does, swearing on every book of worship he can that there’s “nothing there”.

But you both know it’s a lie. Hell- everyone- knows it’s deception. His mother, who cannot for the life of her understand, and his father- whom pinches his nose in stress every time he gets home late. They can see it in the glances you steal from the world towards one another. Or the extra plate he fixes himself, only to excuse himself to his “room” and not return for another three hours. After what felt like decades of fighting, it seems they’ve began to give up, on him. On the idea that he would drop your fragile, beautiful beating heart to the ground and allow it to weep and mourn the death of your blossoming union. As he’d rather kill them both, stealing the crown for the two of you, than he would lose your trust.

Within the few seconds he spent, gawking at the beauty of your everything, he forgot something important.

You were planning something.

Were.

Your hands grip onto him, foot, sliding to the back of his ankle to sweep him off his feet and onto the ground. Katsuki lands hard and you fall atop him. With a yelp and a groan, he looks at you incredulously.

“What the fuc-“ Katsuki starts.

You do not budge, allowing your body to lay between his bent legs, pressing your hands on his chest to keep him still. Your palms slide over the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the muscle underneath, and up towards his throat. Your fingers make claim around his jaw area, two behind his head and thumbs directly on his jaw. It is there that your lips and teeth profess their yearning for every piece of his beautiful being. Every part of him, you want to drown in. You breathe in his essence and soak it deep into the marrow of your bone, where it will stay forever. Traveling up your lovers throat and jaw, you make your way to his lips.

Neither of you thought you’d crave someone saliva so much in your life. But his lips, his tongue- your lips, your tongue- is sweeter than any syrup made from flowers and honey. It is a miracle the two of you have not simply passed away from being without one another. It has only been a week since you’ve kissed, only one. He swore he’d be back and you swore you’d kill him if he didn’t show. And when his tooth nips the right corner of your bottom lip, something feral and raw bubbles up in your blood. It’s hot and thick and makes you want to cry and beg and confess your love all at once.

Something about it drives you crazy and you truly feel like banging your head against the thick, stone walls, of the castle would be of use. Maybe it would soothe the ache that wells deep within the pits of your tummy and rushes down your legs and up your spine like fire. Where it controls you, takes over you, consumes you. And you’ve felt it once before, when he’d pressed you against a castle wall near the kitchen and kissed you so hard your lips felt like they’d bruise. Before he stalked down the hallway, head high, shoulders back, nodding to the person rounding the corner. He left that day, for the week- his mother sending him somewhere for swordsman skills.

A moan bubbles in the back of his throat when your hands lay purchase in the tufts of his thick hair. You pull, wanting him to be closer than ever before. His solid arms wrap around your torso and squeeze as the two of you begin huffing thin breaths of air into your lungs. You still feel as if you cannot get enough of him, like something is missing, and you’re going to go insane. The stars above have graced you with a lot of things- patience is not one of them and never will be. So your lips begin to suck on the crook of his neck, wanting to live there for eons.

Blue and purple blossoms against the skin and electricity shoots through the marrow of your bones when a groan escapes his pretty lips. Fuck. You want to do it again, and again, and again until your lips are sore and cannot go on. So you start again and relish in his fingers pressing future bruises into your hips. The charcoal grey top he has on turns a deeper shade, almost black, with the sweat from the both of you.

“Oh god-“ He whimpers out, as you pull your body up closer to him, thigh dragging across his crotch. His hips buck into the touch and you squeal, pulling back to take a breath.

With that, the two of you begin to call it quits, laying between the grass and stray dandelions, heaving. Your chests rise and fall sporadically and Katsuki is spending an extra moment gathering himself. The sun his high in the sky and when you straddle him he thinks he’s in heaven with the glow around your figure.

“Told you it was fun!” You giggle out, thumb grazing over his jaw as you marvel at his beauty.

Katsuki thanks the stars, the moon, the grass, the sun- everything for you. The wild spirit that told him to “take it easy” and shoved him down on the ground to claim his soul as hers. He’d spent hours training, doing anything and everything his parents asked of him. Sit up, walk straight, elbows off the table. But there was something burning in his core that begged to be fed, to be given just a twig here and there, something that allowed him to feel free. Then you, you came strutting through the castle with a basket of his clothing already folded. Muttering to yourself about how stupidly big the place was and how he was an asshole for not knowing how to “fold his own fucking draws”.

When you yelled at him for messing up your pile of neatly folded clothing, he thought he was hearing things. At first he was angry, as the prince, it was not your place to speak to him that way. But the other part of him wanted to worship you for seeing him like any and every other human being on the face of the earth. So he requested you more and slowly the bickering between the two of you became play fighting. The play fighting made its valiant transition into a peck on the lips here or there, or red cheeks while the other did even miscellaneous tasks.

His mother and father had always urged him to find love, offering him suitors of all shapes and sizes and races and kingdoms. They were all pretty in some manner, like Lillia, who made a crown of flowers for him as a gift. But he couldn’t bring himself to be anything other than angry with them. They wanted a spot on the throne, which was okay, it was the way of the people. However, Katsuki felt nausea bubble in the back of his mouth like acid reflux any time they did anything for him or attempted to get near him. Eventually, family determined he would just be without marriage, and would be required to lie with someone eventually for grandchildren.

You, however, oh lord, you. With angry words and a quick temper, soft plush lips and eyes that made him feel small. You were wild and broke every fucking rule set in front of you. He begs, for you, and only you. He’d break every bone in his body thrice and be confined to mashing grapes for the finest of wines for eons if it meant you gave him the time of the day. He’d do anything.

Later, the two of you are minding your own, going about the day without worry. You’re tending to some treats he requested for the room, a platter of sweets and fresh tea. When he waltzes into the room in a daze, amazed at your skill in pastry making once again. He checks behind him and closes the door.

“You, my love, will be the death of me.” Katsuki sighs, taking a bite out of a fresh fruit tart. He begins placing three sugar cubes into the glass to his right and one in his own, with a clink. You’re a sweet thing and your taste in tea is no different.

“Hmm? How so?” You ponder, stretching your shoulders.

Katsuki pulls off the shirt he’s wearing, a new one, to reveal multiple splotches of red and purple across his skin. Your mouth falls agape, in awe. You reach out to him, lightly smoothing the pads of your fingers over the bruising. Part of you feels guilty while something crude in your mind grins at the sight.

“Oh- fuck- I’m sorry! I got carried away.” You mumble, making a note to receive a fresh pack of ice to tend to it soon.

“It’s fine, asswipe.” He rolls his eyes.

It wasn’t the normal for the two of you. You’d never done that before. A peck on the lips here or there, occasionally if he was leaving off somewhere he’d kiss you harder, but you’d never gone that far before. Never had you’d allowed the beast in your soul to begin taking over, for a short amount of time. But god, you craved it again, again, again. He’d never find that out though, certainly. As you’d keep it locked away tight in the confines of your mind.

You return back to your duties for the day and do indeed make sure he receives a pack of ice for the bruising. He thanks you with another eye roll but you miss the way he stares at your body as you walk away. The day is filled with miscellaneous tasks such as tidying your own cabin, clearing plates and dusting the halls of the castles. As you approach the dining area, tea cups and kettle in hand, you overhear conversation.

“And what in heavens name is that on your collar, Katsuki?” His mother inquires, clearly unhappy. The metal clinks against the glass plates as someone sets a utensil down.

“Burned myself when I was working on blacksmith skills, damn.” Katsuki bites back.

“Uh-huh. I don’t believe you, have you been with Lillia?” She wonders loudly, taking a last bite of her dinner.

Your chest stings at the thought but you remind yourself that it is not your place. The dining area smells of fresh roast and potatoes, drizzled in gravy, and light dust from workers walking in and out of the room.

“Now why the hell would I be with her? I told you, I don’t like any of them, fuck off.” He grits, taking a gulp of water as he does so.

You take this as your chance to enter the room, tea tray in hand. As you do, you give Katsuki a pointed look, before placing the tray on the center of the table and grabbing any excess dishes to hand off to the dishwashers. Katsuki grabs a sweet off the tray and places it, not so gently, onto the smaller plate in front of him.

“These are amazing, my favorite.” He murmurs, grabbing three sugar cubes and placing them in the tea cup.

His parents watch in awe as he does so, only to see him realize his mistake and take two out, putting them back in the glass container full of the little cubes. He grabs the fresh mesh sachel of herbs, tossing them into the ceramic and slowly pours piping hot water over them. The small spoon to his right is used to stir the sugar in and he waits for it to steep.

“Thanks, y/n.” He says, and you begin walking away with the dishes after a quick nod of your head.

“Dear god the tension in this room is so thick I can cut it with a fucking knife!” His mother gawks, flabbergasted at the sight in front of her. Her own tea has began to steep by this point and you continue making your way to the exit of the dining hall. As soon as you walk through the door, a sigh of relief escapes your lips and your mouth speaks without your permission.

“Fuck.” You groan, leaning against the castle wall.

It is later, with the sun saying goodbye as it sets across the horizon, you sit after a fresh washing in a floral nightgown. A knock at your door startles you, until you hear the familiar grunt of Katsuki’s presence. Swiftly, you make your way to the door and open it with a creak.

You couldn’t really complain about your job, working at the castle. You were provided with a cabin, with all the essentials and excellent thick blankets to accommodate for winter. Your pay was small, but gave you more than enough to buy necessities and some amount of décor to keep your humble home looking alive. Possibly the best part, however, was the small garden like are that came with the cabin, fenced in. You spent all of your first pay, years ago, buying essential seeds and garden accessories. It truly helped more than anyone could ever imagine when times were tough.

Katsuki steps in, taking care to lock the door behind him as he kicks his shoes off and begins taking the unnecessary items off of his body. He keeps the earrings, though, that are shaped like moons and cling to his ears in a cuff. The thin gold chain stays wrapped around his neck, but everything else is taken off and tossed to the side. He pulls down the backpack like tote from over his shoulder and places it on the floor, along with a big paper bag that crinkles as it sits.

“Whatcha doin?” You wonder, reaching your hands around his back to pull off the thick belt his parents make him wear.

“Brought a couple things, wanted ta see you. We only got a couple hours today and I’ve been gone for a fuckin’ week.” He grumbles and begins reaching into the bag.

You head to the small sofa to your right, picking up a steeping cup of chamomile tea off of the coffee table in front of you and sitting down. The sofa is a little rough, but you bought a nice throw pillow or two and some plush blankets to increase comfort. You take joy that Katsuki has never mentioned the state of your home, except when you first began living there. He was an ass about it, then, but only because you had no allowance for food in your budget that week and he thought you were god awful at budgeting due to it.

He sits with you, propping his feet on the table and pulls out a fresh container full of pot roast for you to eat. Next, a bunch of seeds and fertilizer for your garden. Finally, he reaches deep into the bag and pulls out a thin, long box with velvet across the top of it. His name is engraved atop it, in gold lettering.

Your brows quirk up at that, body perking at the idea of what could be in that box. Your prayers to the stars are answered when he opens it to reveal a thin, dainty anklet. Gold, like a chain, with rubies in the shape of diamonds grace it. There’s a thin plate, with his name engraved into it on one side and on the other, it says “to eternity”. Your jaw begins to drop as confusion and shock spreads its wings across your face. He picks it up with thick fingers, and then grabs the inside of your calf, pulling it to the side and lifting up your foot. It’s subtle, the anklet. Not many will notice what it is, or care enough to see that it’s even there.

His fingers fiddle with the little piece of jewelry and you realize he is nervous as he fixes it around your left ankle.

And oh, Katsuki is. He’s so fucking nervous he feels like his heart is going to explode. None of his lucky stars told him it would be this terrifying to do something like this. No one warned him about the way his palms would sweat, the room would heat up, and his heart would lurch into his throat and make him want to run. But you’re everything he’s ever wanted, ever needed in life. He’s never been good with words, never been affectionate, and god he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you’re around. His soul suddenly feels fragile, like it never has before. As if it is a thin cylinder of glass in the palms of your dainty hands, that could shatter at any moment. You’re looking at him, confused, pretty little mouth open and cup of tea still in hand.

When he finishes, he thinks about saying he’s going to take a bath. But his hair is still wet from the one he just took in his own home. He only had all that junk on because his mother didn’t want him walking out of the castle without it. So when his eyes meet yours, he croaks. He means to speak, means to tell you all the things he loves about you. From your hair, your nose, lips, personality, love for nature- everything. But he doesn’t, he just wordlessly gawks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

Your lips are on his, hot and heavy. Your cup of tea is all but forgotten as you smacked it down on the table. It has taken you both 8years to get to this point, four to be exact. Never did you think you’d be launching yourself onto the princes lap and trying to press your very souls together. He gasps out in shock and you lay purchase on his chest, sliding your hands under his shirt and up, touching anything you can get your hands on. Your lips trail down his jaw, behind his ear, and the expanse of his neck.

His throat feels like it’s going to close up, blood hot from your body pressing against his. One of your legs swings over onto each side of him, pressing your middles together while you leave more purple bruises up and down his throat. Both of your middles are hot, you think you might melt into him. Like hot lava, that same electricity jolts through your body as you’d accidentally pressed your crotches together and rocked forward. And oh, that felt good. He’s making noises underneath you, fingers digging into the skin of your plush bum and he thinks he’s going to hell in a handbasket.

And he’ll do it happily if he dies like this.

Your nightgown leaves little to the imagination, which certainly doesn’t help him out in this situation. He’s as hard as a rock and never experienced pleasure on this plane of existence before. Typically pleasure for him was spending a little time tucked away in his bedroom, with his hand and his imagination. He never really thought about anything, though. Occasionally he’d think about the way your lips felt on his and begin to wander with those thoughts, before calling himself a an uncouth man and avoiding it. His parents never really talked with him about.. pleasure so to speak. They spoke of lying with someone as a chore, a duty, never mentioning that it could be pleasurable even once.

But now? He’s addicted to you. His body feels hot all over as you lightly grind the your clothed crotch against his own. His trousers are thin, as are your undergarments and he thinks he’s going to explode because you’re wet. You’re so wet you’re beginning to seep through the thin fabric of your plain, cotton panties and he thinks he’s on fucking fire. He can feel it. Your lips and tongue are all over his neck and he’s breathing heavier than he did when training for hours in the summer heat.

He’s spent his entire life chasing a high only to find that his one and only drug is feeling in love. And god, he needs his fix of you, or he’ll go mad and destroy kingdoms until the day he dies searching for you. His body feels like it’s been pulled on a string, the center of his chest lighter than it has ever been in his twenty four years of life, may he forever feel this.

Your break away from him to take a moment to breathe and in the process yank off his shirt. Muttering “I need to see you or I’ll die” and he swears he hears you whisper the words “so beautiful” when it finally comes off. Your arms wrap around, up under his own to drag your nails down the planes of his back. He lets out a gasp, sitting up and flipping you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head so it doesn’t hurt. You look at him like he created the constellations in the sky and he almost cries when you moan. His cherry eyes, deep and startling, rake down the picture of you and focus on your lips.

They’re puffy, slick with spit and he needs a taste or he’ll starve to death.

By the time his lips are on yours, your lips flutter shut and he’s muttering out praise between kisses. Your nimble fingers slide into his hair and grip like you’ll float away without it. His hips kick forward at that, sliding against your covered and slick folds in the process. A moan falls off your lips and it wraps its lustful embrace around his throat because he makes a strangled noise. The deities, whomever, whatever they are must be real because he’s experiencing euphoria and heaven and hell all at once and it must be punishment and reward for his past lives.

“You’re so fucking- fuck” He gets out, and when you hear a whimper leave his lips something takes a hold of you like you’re a puppet.

Your hands move on their own, reaching down between you, for you to do something licentious, that if anyone in the kingdom knew about they’d call you names. And they make their way between your bodies, gripping onto his erection and moving your palm up and down a little. It isn’t a lot but it’s enough that Katsuki moans like he’s desperate and almost in pain. His fingers find stability in the plush blanket beneath you and he grips for dear life. And oh, my god, you feel the electricity in the air now. You can almost see it.

You’ve never wanted something so bad as you want him. In every meaning of that word, you want him. You yearn for him to claim your body like it is his, and only his, and you’d die happy. His fingers release their death grip on the blanket and instead, one hand trails up your night gown while the other props his thumb on your cheek. Your body is hot all over and you already need another bath after this, you think. You’re not thinking clearly, fog clouds your discretion and you begin acting rather than thinking. Inhibition lowered, you guide his thumb to your lips and palm at him a bit more roughly.

His jaw drops open at the sight in front of him. Your hair is a mess, nightgown hiked up, and you begin to suck on his thumb with spit slick lips. Your eyes peer into the depths of his soul as you do it, half lidded, and intentional. It is lewd, provocative, and he’s on cloud nine. Your ministrations are becoming more sure, more certain with every second that passes by as sounds leave him. But he’s always been a bit competitive, a little proud, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you feel good, too.

Your lips forget their task when his fingers press between your soaked, cloth-clad, folds. A sound you didn’t know you could make tells him he should keep going and he begins testing the waters. First he moves up and down, from the top to bottom, in the center, and you respond okay to it. It feels good but like something is missing. So, he tries something new, using two fingers to work in circular motions, feeling around. Something about it feels right even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

Your hips jolt, legs shaking and you begin singing expletives in response to his movements. His cock jumps in his pants with every sound you make and it takes everything in him not to jolt forward and press the tip of it against the heat in front of him. At this point, you’re biting on your lip, when you use your hands to yank him closer to you, nails digging in. He continues working you and you find sanity by biting as hard as you can into his shoulder, hiccupping from pleasure that is so good it almost hurts.

“Fuck- I love you. God I love you .” Katsuki pushes out, voice hoarse and searching for your response.

When you say it back, you repeat it like a broken record. Hiccuping, as a tears begin to well in your eyes from how good you feel. But you could feel better and you know you could. You both know you could and fuck it. You both need this. You’re addicts who can’t stop getting high off of one another’s scent and existence. Inhaling sweet fruit tart like aromas you both can’t get enough of. Your lungs burn when he isn’t around, your body aching and begging for the love of your life to come closer again. You’ve never been a romantic, never in your life, but this has to be love because you’d rid of every star in the goddamn sky to make room for him to be the brightest.

The sun pales in comparison to what happens next.

You squirm under his touch and remove his hand, he pauses, confused. Worry walks its way across his face and his mouth opens to say something until you hook your fingers into your panties and begin sliding them down. The moment he realizes where you’re taking this, he loses all control of himself and rips the side of them so that they hang off of your right ankle. You take pride in how desperate he becomes when he searches your eyes for an answer. You confirm and he is holding onto his sanity with a very thin string.

The string is going to snap one day, and, when it does, he’s going to take everything his kingdom has to offer and give it to you. He’ll search every corner of the earth and give you anything you wish for.

“I want you inside me, Katsuki” You whimper out and the string gets pulled a little tighter, a little closer to snapping.

“Oh my god.” He groans, yanking his own bottoms off and crawling between your legs.

Katsuki figures you’ve never done this, like him, but he read a book once that said it can hurt if you’re not prepared. So he starts slow, with one finger, sliding it in and out. One finger becomes two and he begins feeling around until a certain “come here” motion has you throw your head back and gasp. Your legs begin to shake and he’s so unbelievably in love, he realizes. Because as much pleasure as it brings him, he thinks about getting you another pillow so your head won’t hurt.

“You’re-“ You gasp, and he sits back on his heels.

He grip his cock with a firm hand at the base, pushing the tip in and he’s big. He’s so much bigger than you’d thought. You’re so full, to the brim, going to spill over if he keeps going and it stings but you don’t want him to stop. You can’t fathom this high ever ending.

He begins talking you through it, while he tries to grab onto the last little inkling of his sanity.

“Such a good girl- so good- you can do it baby you can do it.” He mutters out, kissing all over your face. When his fingers come down to work in circular motions, you’re done for. Something has you pulled up by rope and everything goes black for a moment, and you’re floating. Nothing in the world matters as much as him, to you. Nothing matters except here and now where he’s got his length fully pressed to the hilt in side of you.

When you start squeezing inside of him, repeatedly, his hips speed up, and he realizes he’s going to cum. His mouth betrays him and he starts rambling on, desperate for release. His hips frantically smacking into yours as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. You keep saying you love him, that he’s good, that he’s perfect, muttering it all to yourself and you don’t realize he can hear it all. The praise fills his veins and courses through his heart like it is made to be there. It has made itself a home in his soul and he will never let it go. He doesn’t care if he has to lock it down in a cage and throw the key away.

“Gonna make you mine-you’re mine. My pretty girl, my love, g’nna steal the stars in the sky n give ‘em to you- fuck, you’re so pretty, I love you, love you.” He rambles, filling you to the brim with cum.

The pair of you sit after and bask in post-sex glow. You’re going to take the water from the sea and find a way to turn it to wine, so he’ll understand how drunk you get off of looking at his eyes. You’re going to give him anything and everything he’s ever wanted in this world because he is all you have ever wanted. The moon sits high in the sky, watching over the two lovers she blessed herself, gracing them. You’re going to start a shrine out of gratefulness, for him.

His hair looks like the sunrise and his eyes remind you of cherries straight off the plant, attitude like fire and chili peppers, and his body is made of only the most beautiful minerals.

He looks like he’s going to cry when he has to leave early that morning, to tend to all of his duties. But he kisses you hard before he goes, saying he’ll miss you like the stars miss their loved one when it goes nova. And when you watch him walk away flowers bloom in your chest. The thorns prick at your heart and you tell them it’s okay. He leaves straightens his shoulders, keeps his eyes forward and walks through the castle halls later that day with a grin. His parents begin to chastise him for being out late again and he promptly tells them to kick rocks.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugo smut #royal!au #bakugou x yn #bakugou x you #bakugo x yn #bakugo x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x yn #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugo fic rec #peaches masterlist

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stickyspeckledlight · 2 months

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Despite Everything, You Still Exist [Yan!Aventurine x Reader]

The short moments when the world remembers you. Hypothetical HSR voice lines based on Sunrise, Sunset, My Destroyed Body In the Onset. Can be read as standalone, though.

Notes: Lol I had some thoughts and doing this right now will mitigate my uncontrollable hype for when 2.1 is out later tonight. (From the future: lol 2.1 is out now ahaha)

Ao3

The air rings with the sound of cranking slots, spinning roulette, fallen chips, and spilled cards. Some visit for reasons outside the sound; the bar's happy hour, a good meal at the buffet, and the venue where musicians of middling to great renown play. They merely chatter amongst themselves, occasionally sparing a look to the many games at play, perhaps spending a few credits if they want to test their luck. But the ones of note are always the ones playing the game. For some, the sound of a shuffling deck of cards is as familiar as the back of their hand, and they cannot stand to be away from it for more than a day lest they live with the emptiness of their soul. Some have already accomplished much, do not know what they want anymore, and are just here to pass the time. Some are fools, believing they can strike a fortune and climb to the heavens. They feel the most, celebrating triumph and wallowing in despair alike.

But those who stand out most are those who decide to test their luck knowing of destiny's inherent unjustness.

Chat: Limits

"Most people do all they can to live within their limits. Whether it be maintaining their mundane routine, keeping to themselves, or turning away from things that pose too much risk to them. When most reach their limit, they tend to completely shut down, and give up—they dread that risk. What most people don’t realize though is that in breaking limits, you go beyond them. My friend, if you ever see someone reach their limit...pushing them past it will yield something truly special or, if you’re lucky, a destructive yet breathtaking beauty."

Chat: Lovely Things

“What do I like? Trying to gauge my weaknesses now are we? …oh? You just want to get me something out of the sheer goodness of your heart? Aw, you’re too sweet; my friend, we’ve already established such a great bond, you and I, so there is no need to exchange gifts between us! And, gift giving always does bring about jealousy; you wouldn’t want to incite that, would you? Besides, I doubt you could gift me anything lovelier than I already have.

Chat: Change

“Change is a wonderful thing! It keeps things from getting stale and predictable and is the prime ingredient for anything unexpected. Change doesn’t necessarily mean massive shifts like how most people envision, and I wholeheartedly believe one’s own self can remain consistent even with change. Speaking of changes to one’s self…heh, no matter how happy they may be as and with their changed self, a part of them will always mourn the person they used to be…even if the person of old runs counter to their changed self. Hm? A distant look in my eye? Nonsense, my friend! Just think of this as some helpful advice, free of charge. I do hope you’ll be able to put it to practice—I think we’d both hate if I were disappointed, after all.”

Casinos are ultimately reprieve, but eventually, one must return to their obligations. One can’t gamble without money, and money must be made from working. Work comes in many different forms—some work aims to increase other’s gains, some to increase its own, others to retrieve the money which is owed. These individuals are not so hard to find at the casino—like moths to a flame they aim to win with the wealth accrued by another, only to find themselves stripped of it unwittingly. It is easy to rig the game when the opponent believes they are the master. Chat: Interesting People

“My work takes me all over the place, so I get a lot of opportunities to meet all sorts of people! Granted, it’s my work that also causes a lot of meetings to not be on especially amicable terms too. And some of the people I have to deal with are…well, there’s a reason I keep a pistol with me. The best meetings though are when you’re off the clock and free to just wander about! Souvenir shopping, trying out local cuisines and experiencing its culture can be pretty nice, and it’s when me and Numby are just out and about where we meet many. I’m sure you Astral Expressers can relate to that. But, as with all things, some particularly stand out even when you don’t expect. Like, a little while ago, I finally finished a project—a big one that had some of us Stonehearts coming together—and I met this rather pleasant individual. Nice, polite, and their sense of humor wasn’t half bad; even gave me some pastries they made! A short but sweet conversation. But…there was just something…off, about them. My instincts are pretty good when it comes to these sort of things; it’s like…they were keeping themselves at a weird distance. Even though I deal with that a ton during negotiations, this time it just felt odd in a particular way, yet quite uncomfortably familiar. But it was after we said our goodbyes and I saw them again. I don’t know what happened, but then I saw the expression on their face, and…I know what that odd feeling is now. Maybe I should reach out, that guy isn’t exactly…o-oh, sorry! I got a little carried away, didn’t I? And I did sort of lead you on with starting things so lightheartedly…here, why don’t I make it up to you? A few Aetherium Wars booster packs, maybe?”

How do people lose money like this, though? Many go into the casino with the belief it is fair and just, not understanding just how rigged the game is. “Shed any and all illusions of outwitting the system,” one is told, left with nothing when they could not draw an ace of spades.

They are here because for many reasons: circumstance, unfortunate luck and their own hubris. And in that last reason lies the penultimate behind their misfortune: ignorance.

Chat: Willful Ignorance

“Ignorance is a horrid malady, but like all forms of malaise there are multiple variations. The most common is unwillful—what most think of when thinking of ignorance. Cures differ from individual to individual of course, but they tend to be the most simple affair; simple pedagogy does wonders in establishing a baseline knowledge, and for matters of great specificity or those already with baseline knowledge, a few thorough lectures are the ultimate vaccine. Willful ignorance, however, is a much different matter. Its cause is not rooted in the absence of knowledge, but of cognitive dissonance—you find it especially amongst those who have aged, already set in their ways and unwilling to engage with anything to broaden their horizons. For this, treatment must be thorough and harsh; it cannot be absolved without stripping down a patient’s worldview, lens, and grip of reality. But this is not the most vexing form. The hardest ignorance to cure is the one taken on fully aware, knowing it is false and knowing of its folly but nevertheless live by it; you look confused, so I’ll put it in simpler terms: a patient who isn’t ignorant, far from it even, but still lives their life as if they were. Curing this places patients in a rather volatile state. This ignorance is often the patient’s way of coping with a situation, when they’ve exhausted all other forms of protection. …But, I am a scholar. Advancements are not made by talking, it is through action, and eventually, I will be the one to make it. …I simply hope I can make it in time.”

But nothing lasts forever. The patrons return home, drunk or penniless, and the sound drowns out. Staff emerge from their shadows and silently do their part in crafting the honey trap, but even they must leave, and the lights are shut.

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