#plethora of icons

[nayushikisses]

in case people on tumblr haven’t seen this yet, maduzu made a picrew for marutoku characters!

link to the original tweet below the cut:

[doortotomorrow]

memori » quote pack

[screampied]

PARTITION! g. satoru

ৎ୭ sum. your sugar daddy, satoru’s worst fear happened. he fears you’re too much of a spoiled rotten brat. screw riding in his expensive private limousine—you wanted to ride something else instead. (him, duh)

wc. 7.3k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy gojo! au, age gap (early twenties + thirties), car sęx, bratty reader, unprotected, getting eaten out the window, tít job, reverse cowgirl, doggy, cunnīlingus, nanami cameo, slight alcohol consumption, size kink, cęrvix kissing, possessive themes (wearing waist beads w his initials), implied multiple rounds, he’s sooo whipped, bręeding.

➤ sd! gojo masterlist

“meet my baby here, sweets. charlotte.”

“satoru, what.”

as satoru had an arm slinked around your waist, brushing a thumb across the jewels that stuck against of of the many designer blouses he’s bought you within the past week, he hums. the two of you were staring straight at a limousine. it was icy blue like his eyes with a plethora of dark-tinted windows. to even top it off, it had ‘G.S limousine service, inc.’ carved into the side of one of the doors in bright, blue cursive.

you huffed, smearing your glossed lips together. “you named your limousine?”

“heh, well she’s yours now,” he hums, guiding you toward the slid open doors. “c’mon, there’s a club i wanna take you to. if we leave now, we can beat the press.” and satoru takes a peek at his gleaming, pricey watch. he helps lifts the back of your long skirt from touching the ground before you step in. immediately, you’re hit with flashing lights inside the luxurious car and its plush red seats.

“where to, sir.” a blond chauffeur adjusts his mirror with a sigh, taking a short glance at you.

satoru throws an arm around you, tugging lightly on his tie that’s tucked neatly in his suit. “ah, kento, meet my girl. and please—drive us to my private lounge,” satoru kisses your cheek as you sit, whispering in an impish, low tone. “buckle up, sweetheart. ‘s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

the seats were oh-so-soft, a violent hot color of maroon as the entire limo was lit up with nothing but dim flashing, flashing lights.

it was bright, the size alone was probably bigger than a simple normal bathroom. satoru saw you taking in the luxurious life like you always did, craning your head from left to right before peering at the empty wine glasses in front of you both.

“it’s so pretty,” you hummed, your head resting against his shoulder.

once you’re laid against him, you’re smacked with his signature loud cologne scent. it was always a scent you’d never forget, nor could you get used to.

it’s strong, making you take the citrusy manly aroma in silence every time.

with a raised brow, you look up at the white-haired man before timidly murmuring, “wait- what do you mean this is mine? like.. the whole thing?”

“yeah, silly girl,” satoru brushes a thumb around the center of your forehead in invisible circles.

you’ve grown to get weak with his tender touch every time. cerulean-iced eyes lock against you lovingly, and that’s when that cunning grin spreads at each side of his crooked lips. “think of it as an uh- surprise gift for the new year.”

with a pout, you open your mouth to complain. “satoru- last week, you just bought me-”

“a convertible, and i’d do it again in a heartbeat,” satoru whispers, planting another kiss near your temple.

your incoming words come to an abrupt pause, and the cute speechless look you gave him always made him hum in amusement.

one of the many things satoru liked- no loved about you, was that you were always so humble.

you were forever grateful, but you couldn’t help but be hesitant sometimes at how much he’d constantly spend for you. satoru continued to shower you with compliment though—constantly reassuring you that he wanted to splurge his money on you.

you were living the dream - literally.

embodying the life of a rich girl, a type of rich girl where you’d usually see in cheesy movies or sung in iconic songs by artists like gwen stefani.

even though it’s been a full-blown year, you’ve started to grow accustomed to the sweet luxury of being a sugar baby.

satoru gojo’s sugar baby.

but he wasn’t starting to see you as just his pretty ‘lil sugar baby though, that much was apparent.

satoru didn’t expect you to not only take his money but his heart too.

and he never minded.

he couldn’t put a price on that anyway.

“besides,” he grabs a clear, empty glass and an unopened bottle from underneath the fuzzy, red seat. with a flick, satoru removes the cork that is plugged near the top with just his thumb and middle finger. as he pours a small portion of wine inside, the velvet-colored liquid stains against all sides of the glass.

“what’s mine is yours, baby,” he takes a sip before sighing at the cassis flavor hits against his tastebuds, “ ‘s what my sweet thing deserves.”

as you’re still pouting, the limo continues to drive.

the windows were tinted, but it was clear as day when you looked through them to take a quick peel. as usual, the roads were quite busy with rush hour but it was a smooth ride nonetheless.

however though, you had to admit, you were getting a bit… bored.

satoru sat man spread, both of his wide legs taking so much unnecessary space before he contemptibly sighed again. with one of his arms still wrapped around you, you took a moment to take in his suave, handsome appearance.

he always was draped in nothing but tuxedos—

after all, without the whole sugar daddy side thing, you sometimes forget how satoru was a literal well-known businessman.

he never really went into the specifics of his work, but you knew he was the CEO of some private company.

satoru was a very powerful man, a man with a big net worth … but an even bigger heart.

the shoes that satoru wore were dress shoes of his own brand, of course. in the luminous, glittery lights of the inside of the limousine—the shoes were visibly spit-shined from top to bottom. his suit’s dark black, and the handkerchief that stuck out of his front chest had the imprints of your lipstick on it.

of course he kept that.

his hair..

it’s messily ruffled but somewhat presentable, slicked back as usual with a faint side part. over time, you started to notice how he was growing facial hair too.

it’s subtle, and you’d have to squint but you saw it. you saw how specks of white hair were trying to form down near his chin.

it was attractive nonetheless, and the thought of satoru growing a stubble had you squeezing your thighs together in shame.

after all, he was in his early-thirties so he was bound to grow some facial hair at some point. he’s always been a well-shaved man, but the image forever plagued your mind.

“yeees, sweets.” he snaps you out of your little fantasm, the near-empty wine glass still in his hand. he sits the expensive bottle of ‘screaming eagle’ near the limo’s bar that was covered with dozens of tiny, pretty rhinestones.

“h.. huh?” you stammer, blinking thrice.

shit.

the way you stared at him was like a deer in headlights. caught red-handed!

that same wry grin that stretched so slyly pried at both cracks of his lips before satoru tilted his head. “you’re starin’ y’know,” and you felt his hand placed on your thigh. “is my baby bored?”

“a little,” you admitted, hearing the loud screeching of tire wheels and screaming horns of other cars in the background.

only satoru could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world..

slowly, satoru dragged his pink tongue over his upper lip which was a bit damp from the scarlet-colored wine.

you sucked in a raucous breath - your thoughts turning more ‘n more filthy by the second.

his lips.. they were so perfect, naturally glossed, and forevermore had a plump downward curve. you could stare at them all day, and your eyes widened once a drip of wine started to trickle down the right side of his lip.

“ooh- excuse me. guess ‘m a bit messy today,” he throatily chuckles, feeling the coldness of the red droplet race down his skin. “would you be a doll ‘n lick that up for me, sweetheart?”

“okay-” you comply right away, positioning yourself on his lap.

satoru titters, cocking his head lazily toward the left as you get comfortable. cute, he thinks.

he could already tell how eager you were. also, he didn’t tell you the duration of the ride but it was probably about a good hour.

like hell could you even wait that long.

it felt like time was so cruel - standing still as you inched closer and closer toward his face. satoru laid man spread the entire time, eyeing you closely with his gaze never leaving yours.

he paws a big hand near your waist, hearing your pretty airy breaths pick up.

“stop looking at me like that-”

“aw, is it a crime to stare at my gi-”

satoru’s fatally silenced with a kiss.

it’s a rough one, and you couldn’t wait to run your tongue across the remnants of cherry-flavored wine that now started to drip down his chin.

it tasted sweet - a spicy cherry flavor, and you moaned once his knee aligned itself between your thighs.

his thigh was so bulky too, even underneath the lanky, slender slacks he wore. satoru was a particularly ripped guy in general — you knew his workout routine like the back of your hand, and sometimes he’d even let you do sets with him.

(sets that mainly consisted of you sitting on his back while he did push-ups orrrr sitting on his abs while he used barbells in his private gym)

“mhm~” you moan against his lips, hearing the competitive sounds of teeth rudely smacking against each other in vigorous sync.

each tongue’s on a dangerous mission, desperately trying to dominate the other and you couldn’t help but melt.

your twisting, hot tongue started to wander, creating a slippery snail trail near the crack of his mouth before nibbling on his bottom lip. “sa- satoruu.” you’d breathe, one hand giving his tie a needy, impatient pull.

“heyyy, you know i don’t speak whine,” he whispers, breaking away from your lips for a second.

your lips were already swollen, slickly shining with saliva that could’ve been an easily replaceable substitute for lip gloss. “use those words, sweetheart,” and it was like the more he spoke, the deeper his voice seductively pitched.

the knee that still rested between your sprawled open legs didn’t make things easier either. “tell me what you want ‘n maybe i’ll give it to ya, hm?”

with a huff, you mumble a soft, “you-”

“well yeah, me silly! elaborate for me though.”

“i want- i want you.. i want all of you satoru. right now,” you go into more detail, leaning in to paint a slope of wet kisses down his neck. satoru’s collar was a bit unkempt—some exposed skin showed above his collar which you then brought upon yourself to attack with kisses. “pretty please.”

“hah- but.. you already have me,” he inhales, groaning once he feels you starting to grind against his lap.

satoru’s touch was pure static..

his fingers couldn’t help but mindlessly roam, tickling against your bare skin that protruded through the minuscule squares of your ripped fishnets.

the stare you two shared was just so intimate, and he could almost already smell your lusty, loud arousal..

“mhm- y’know, what i want too?” satoru huskily whispers against your ear, grunting as your hips slooooowly rubbed against his visible boner.

hugely, it stuck out through his jet-black slacks. leave it to you to always make him hard.

“tell me.” you reply with a chastened frown, sliding a hand up his loose button-up. your hand enters underneath his shirt and his skin is so warm that it feels like his entire body is on fire.

right away, your curious palm gets a taste of his hardened abs that were nearly akin to the texture of a damn brick.

rigid, flexing muscles of satoru’s relax at your touch before he grabs a nice chunk of your ass.

“oh, nothing! ‘m just a.. ‘lil thirsty, sweets..”

♡ ♡ ♡

“ohmygod-” you’d squeal, cupping a clammy palm over your mouth.

when satoru said he was thirsty, you surely didn’t expect him to have you hanging out the window with your ass perfectly perked out.

with a single hand, he pulled up your skirt, raising it to the brink of your waistline while dragging your pretty lace panties to the side with a single thumb.

you were partially hanging out the window - safely though, he’d never let you fall.

satoru had an arm wrapped around your waist, one hand sliding down your thigh. vehemently, his tongue swirled circles around your clit before giving it one looooong suck.

his lips puckered, and he could already feel your hips starting to stutter against his mouth.

“mng- ‘toru,” you’d heave, wriggling your ass around his face. the tip of his nose started to rub up and down your slit too, and he’s shamelessly getting a whiff of your candied mess.

he was always so nasty, proudly spitting on your pussy, lapping it up before it dripped onto the thousand-dollar seats.

“mhh- wiggle that ass a little more for me baby, dance with my.. haaah- tongue,” he whispers airily, thumbing a fat finger near your pulsing clit. satoru found it so cute how you’d pulse every time he’d smear slippery circles around your pussy.

you just couldn’t help it!

you’re sucking in each ‘n every breath, sinking the edges of your teeth into your bawled knuckle to suppress your moans.

a strong gust of wind strikes you as the car continues to move, and you’re just meekly smiling at the cars that pass by.

from their points of view… the drivers are just seeing some random girl slightly hanging out a halfway-lowered limousine window.

in reality though,

you were getting eaten out while dozens of cars speedily drove past you.

through your slightly blurred peripherals, you saw satoru’s chauffeur who you remember hearing him address as ‘kento’ earlier, giving you a peer through his side-view mirror. he had his hands firmly on his steering wheel, scoffing to himself with a head shake.

he mumbled something under his breath as he looked away, focusing his browned eyes on the talking GPS that read him the directions to the destination.

from your sweet, repetitive moans, you couldn’t exactly make out what he said but from a quick read of his lips, you’d probably guess it was something like:

“i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

as you’re still hung out the window, your legs part a bit - causing your eyes to widen.

satoru’s slurping you clean, skipping frisky plump fingers down your thigh before cupping his plump lips around your pussy. his head, it moves back and forth, ferociously shifting side to side like a damn madman.

you probably looked soo stupid. your mouth stayed open the entire time with your jaw forever dropped—dangling like an earring.

“fuh- fuuuck,” your trembling voice pitches higher, and you claw a hand near the back of your ass.

tightly gripping at a piece of your ass, it fits around your hand entirely before you turn to look back at satoru.

already, his chin’s got a pretty coat of your juices pouring down his jaw. his tongue was just hungry, wanting far more than just a few sips of his expensive screaming eagle..

you were far sweeter than any beverage, and satoru continuously took big, big gulps.

he treated his lips like a straw, pursing them to suck before slurping every single drop of you clean until you could barely hold your legs open.

“mhm- look at alllll this pretty fuckin’ ass,” he groans, removing your hand that was gripped on your rear.

with a whack! he hits it, humming at the cute ‘lil jolt of your shimmying body.

your skin jiggles in his face instantly, and you feel his curving tongue precisely slow its frantic pace down by the second.

there….

the tip of his pointed tongue stretched itself so far out that it clicked itself against your precious g-spot. “mng- spread y’rself wider, baby. ‘m not done with my.. hah- drink.”

“suh- sssatoru,” you’d drag out your whiny, pathetic words.

your brows formed into a furrow as your hands grabbed onto the edges of the rolled-down window. sweaty, perspiring fingertips imprinted the fogged glass as he licked every wet orifice thoroughly.

thankfully, some music was blasting in the background—seemingly drowning out your constant, pleading whines and whimpers..

satoru’s designer tie even gets a bit wet - you’re drip drip dripping, tears of glossy slick pouring flawlessly from both sides of your legs. he brings a thumb toward your hole, feeling your cute wriggles before spitting down your pussy.

slowly, the webby string trails a straight, sloppy line down and he licks it up — removing his thumb and starting at your hole before lapping his tongue down the bottom part of your pussy.

he’s wholeheartedly feral - animalistic, working his tongue until your brain turns into mush.

eventually, you ended up crawling back into the spacious limousine and landed on your back.

with your legs still spread, satoru lifts your thighs, continuing his feast. “mmph- get back here, sweets. ‘m not haaah- done,” he’d jibe each time he’d squint to see your cute weak pulse up close.

you’re impatient - desperate for your release so much that you could almost taste it..

it tasted sweet with a bit of tang, and the more you fantasized about your inevitable orgasm— the more more more you were starting to blank out all on his tongue.

“mnh- attaaaaa girl, let ‘toru get a nice good sip.” he’s still slurping you, a few excess juices smearing against his cheek.

satoru’s long, white lashes flutter open and close as he relishes in your treacly taste.

you just couldn’t stay still though.

with the way your hips cutely tossed ‘n turned each time his tongue delved inside of your sopping cunt, he’d think your middle name was ‘squirmer.’

time drags by for a looong time, not as long as satoru’s tongue though.. not by a long shot..

it flicked its way through each spot, munching proudly against your clit before your tummy tucked inward. your brain haywires, and with your mouth wide open — the only sounds that escaped were small, labored breaths.

you’re cumming, and your lashes frantically blinked at so many blinks per second. your muscles that were once tense relaxed as you’re finally succumbing to pleasure.

you squealed out that final, harmonic battle cry before your head plopped into the edge of the limo’s seat.

“fuck- fuck, fuuuck,” you’re whimpering, repeating the same swear like a broken record as you feel him grab ahold of your writhing hips.

his tongue’s length curved its way everywhere, creating a path to remember as it made itself known at all tender areas of your pussy.

“uh huh- that’s it, good girl. ride it out, riiiide it out, i gotcha,” he groans, laying his tongue fully flat. it’s a rose-like pink, soddened tastebuds sizzling in contempt once you’re ‘quenching’ his thirst with your sweetened arousal.

buzzing sounds went in and out of your ears as you just released huff after puff through your lungs. satoru’s lips were glossed with nothing but your slick, even more than they already were.

he gives your poor, convulsing clit its last finally smooches before reluctantly breaking away.

“hah- never a dull moment with her,” he licks his lips from top to bottom, grabbing out his lipstick-stained handkerchief before patting underneath his chin. “you okay, sweetheart?”

“ ‘m okay,” you breathe, still feeling tingles surge through every one of your veins that ran down your wobbly, numb limbs. your legs had it the worse.

you barely felt anything, and satoru helped you back to your feet.

it was a limo, so it wasn’t like you could exactly stand but you sufficed by crouching just below the fuzzy-made hood.

satoru lies slouched back - giving his lap a few playful pats before tilting his head at you. “c’mere, sweet thing,” and his voice was dripping with erotic silk.

his ocean-strong eyes zero down at your body, trailing up up up before eventually stopping just about your waistline.

your skirt was now off — pulled to the floor and so were your panties. you only had your matching blouse on. you got an idea though, and satoru watched you get on your knees. “oh..?”

“ ‘toru,” you speak in shortened puffs, still trying to get over your recent teeth-shattering orgasm. every sensitive axon and nerve located in your body was screaming at you, aching for more stimulation as time passed.

as your hands casually spread his long legs wider across the cushioned seats, you hummed. “remember those waist beads you ordered me a few weeks back?”

“mhm,” he nods, eyes never darting away from your wriggling body for a second.

satoru wondered what your game was.

as he was trying to prevent himself from smiling, he was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe you were starting to get just a liiiiitle bit spoiled.

as his legs were fully sprawled apart, you brought your hands toward the hem of the designer blouse that stuck against your skin. you honestly lost count of just how many clothes satoru’s bought you within the past year.

he watches closely - zeroing down at your figure, nipping on his lip as he stares at you leisurely pulling the piece of clothing off of you.

satoru’s seen your skin countless times, but there was just something about your body that he just couldn’t get enough of.

couldn’t get enough of you..

if he was being honest, he could stare at you all day.

“look. it fits perfectly,” you speak in a sweet tone, your thighs stuck together as you were still dripping from the inner crevices. you could feel yourself throbbing, and it took everything in you to not let out a moan.

satoru tsks, kissing his teeth once he’s now exposed to your skin.

the damn beads,

they wrapped around your waist and indeed fit your entire torso. his eyes studied the gold that went around your raised hips, whistling once he saw those two crystallized initials - his initials.

‘G.S’

the small two letters hung on one waist bead that was drooped low near your naval and an extra twin pair near the charms behind your back. “fuuuck- know that’s right,” satoru huffs, his breathing starting to get a bit heavy.

“all mine, heh- looks so damn pretty on you,” and as his eyes continued to meander down your skin, satoru’s head rests back against the softly cushioned seat. “hm- how ‘bout you model for me? show off that gorgeous body a little more f’ me.”

“say ‘please’,” you’d get on his lap, wrapping your arms around him. satoru looks up at you with a mere pouting scowl, a hand instinctively attaching itself to your hip.

“pleaaase, oh-pleaseeee sweets. don’t tease me too bad, you’re bein’ a bit of a spoiled girl right now,” he whispers, bringing wet, cold lips toward the corner of your neck. you moaned, feeling satoru’s free hand strum a few fingers down your waist beads.

they clank clank clanked, creating pretty jingle sounds at each faint movement before you started to move your hips.

“goddamn-” he holds in a breath, practically wordless as his eyes continued to rove.

briskly, you slowly turned yourself around, teasingly popping your hips to the dropping beats of the song that played through the limo’s speakers.

satoru’s suddenly short of breath, circling a thumb around the left cheek of your ass. he’s so hard, and you could feel it the more you rubbed your ass right up against thaaat particular spot.

he sucks his teeth once more, grunting as he feels the cloth knead against your skin so good..

“woman, you’re bein’ such a bratty tease right now..” and he could taste that round, large lump forming near the very back of his throat.

satoru shivers as your hands place on the crown of his knees, and you’re starting to rock rock rock back ‘n forth his throbbing boner. “hmph. the things i let ‘cha get away with, lucky ‘m not.. haah- fuck, bending ya over my lap, baby.”

“you talk a lot for a guy with a boner this hard, ‘toru.” you shrug, continuing the sensual jerking of your hips.

he’s grunting at every swift turn of your body, hearing his heart loudly thump through his ears.

the limo’s speed picks up a few miles and you could hear the grumbling from underneath the vehicle as you stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“mmh- fine, since you said please.”

as you’re still facing the other way, you reach for his buckle with your fingers brushing near the cold straps. you couldn’t see, so he grabbed your hand—guiding you where to unbuckle his slacks.

“f.. fuck, hurry up. you rubbin’ against me isn’t helping matters at all, y’know,” he tries to laugh but it comes out very dry.

satoru just wanted to be inside you, making you remember your place with a few sloppy strokes.

you giggled, hearing his pants and boxers sliiiide down to his ankles with a thud before jostling your rear way back against his leaning cock. it hung so cutely, and its tip was swollen with veins protruding at a few girthy sides.

with satoru still having a hold of your hand, he makes you touch the leaking head. “ooh,” you hum, twirling a thumb around his tender frenulum.

as you do so, he moans out the sluttiest moan, pretty white lashes squeezing shut for about three seconds to savor this moment.

“heh.. little girl,” he gutturally prowls, aligning his dick in between the crack of your fleshy mounds. it’s very hard, and you hummed at the warmth he provided. “go on then.. ride me in reverse, sweets. this the ride you wanted all along, hm?”

“yeaah,” you played along, almost seeing the weary smirk unfurl across his lips as he spoke.

you couldn’t wait any longer either.

you were throbbing persistently, every fiber of your being longing for satoru to ease his way inside of your pretty, sobbing cunt.

he was so big that your hand could barely wrap around the entity of his length. instantly, your palms met with various veins as you raised your hips moderately.

his vermillion-shaded tip carefully hovered over your dripping hole, and satoru’s just heavily breathing at your stilled body.

“mngh-” you released a rough, jagged breath once you were slowly making your way down on his cock.

like usual, you’re presented with that loving tiiiiight stretch that lasts for about a good four seconds.

satoru’s tip alone was big, and it pummeled through your insides as his inches started to leisurely disappear.

it’s such a lewd scene - a scene he wouldn’t mind replaying over ‘n over again in his head..

your pussy sings out sloshes of wet high notes in harmony, trying to take in his weighty shaft.

your mouth opens up on its own, and you’re breathing out colorful swears of ‘ohhh fuuuck’ ‘s as you continue to sink your way down.

from the both of you, countless breathy breaths were drawn from both raspy lungs as the mouthwatering penetration continued.

it felt like a squeeze pinching near your insides, tickling around you from the inside before adding pounds of pressure pressure pressure..

your hands go back to being placed on his knees, whimpering as his slick cock eases its way inside of your pussy. spongy, clamping walls hugged around him like a vice and your teeth were starting to feel that familiar chatter.

“god- always s- so fuckin’ big, ‘toru,” you moan, your bratty ‘lil façade shortly faltering once he’s finally buried balls fuckin’ deep.

the pit of your tummy was constantly heaving, cowardly sucking itself in and out at the sheer weight of his size before you eventually relaxed.

“perfect fit for my perfect… hah- girl.” he grunts, taking a quick peer down at your unbalanced thighs that struggled to move at first.

gradually, your hips started to move and greeted satoru’s lap with a sharp, rude slam. once you started to adapt to a rhythm, your hips rolled and rolled.

“agh- that’s i.. iiiiit,” he choked on his saliva, playing with the waist beads that danced against your torso as you moved.

satoru moans, feeling his fat base smush its way against your ass once you sat down. your hips were reeling, winding back into his pelvis like a wind-up toy.

with parched, hot skin amongst skin - the sounds echoed against the limo, nearly sounding over the music that played in the background.

satoru’s watching as you plop straight back into him before you sprightly wriggle your hips in a seductive circle.

“my, ain’t you a naughty girl..” he tosses his head back in overwhelming rapture, feeling his dick twitch inside you as the sloppy sounds continue.

it was hard not to hear - if it was anything satoru knew about your pussy, he knew that it was always, always vocal with him..

you’re slamming back against his lap every time, squeezing your palms against the crowns of his knees with your body twirling and falling back into his inviting lap.

if you kept riding him like that, he’d really be head over heels.

“ugh- yeah, girl. ride it, ride this dick like it’s yours because it fuckin’ is,” satoru grunts, feeling your cunt tighten for a second at his exact words. “heh- did my messy girl like that? like hearin’ that ‘m yours, sweetheart?”

“mhm,” you’d nod with your lips clamped shut.

he’s just so big, stretching through your insides with such ease. the once slow and steady beats of your heart were now thump thump thumping!

satoru’s bulbous-shaped tip had a hooked upturning curve, and fuck did you feel every sloping curve as you bounced up ‘n down on his cock.

it���s so good that your mouth’s pathetically watering from the inside, and you’re already starting to feel that burning sensation electrify through your aching, stretched muscles.

“mngh- look at this body, s… so damn-” and he pauses, clenching his jaw at the sloppy wet feeling of your barriers bear-hugging around his cock.

you’re just working your hips like it’s a full-time job, throwing them around in a circle so fast that even satoru could barely keep up.

with thighs upon thighs upon thighs, your skin sticks against his like glue. a trail of colorless slick smears down satoru’s leg and he moans at the loud slaps of zealous, clapping skin.

you’re sticky still, and he’s moaning louder once the speed of your hips quickens.

“yeah? yeah, better- fuckin’-ride-me,” and even though his voice faintly cracks, satoru still manages a sort of poised, cocky persona.

multiple ‘encouraging’ swats hit against the cheeks of your ass and you’re whining, putting your all into the movements of your jerking body. satoru’s snowy brows contort before he gives your waist beads a soft tug.

“do it, fuck me, baby. ‘n while you’re at it..” and as you’re still moving your hips, you feel a bit of paper rain down your back that’s starting to perspire with sweat.

“fuck-” satoru grunts smokily, staring as hundred dollar bills fall down your bare spine. “forgot ‘ta give you your allowance, might as well give it to you now.”

“hngh- satoruuu,” you whined, his cock hitting its way through every spot. it french-kisses near your clit before passionately making out with your cervix.

it located both spots easily, and the feeling had your toes curling inside of your four-inch heels.

satoru ended up tossing those same bills down your back, staring as it prettily fell down your body before landing on his lap and the limo’s cottony carpet.

“ ‘m gonna cum i think,” you moaned, slowing your turning hips in hypnotic, carnal arcs. satoru’s hands were brought to your waist with two thumbs pressed at each side of your hips. “ ‘m cummin’ satoru.”

“me too, s.. sweets,” he swallows, hissing silently at the unsteady bucking of your bouncing ass.

your rear jiggled at each slamming thrust, ricocheting against his thighs and it was just so mesmerizing to watch.

satoru’s feeling the scorching tip of his cock grow hot, and he’s starting to feel all types of contractions arise within his muscles. “god- tell me where to tell me where.”

“inside,” you moaned, bringing your hands toward your chest to cup to bouncing tits. you squeezed them, smearing a thumb around your hardened nipples before making yourself even more aroused.

it’s just so much to process.

your rutting hips, the loud squelches of your pussy, satoru’s dick driving through you repeatedly.. oh, you were in a daze.

“f- fuuuuck. be a… hah- good girl ‘n take it all then.” he groans, elated euphoria swelling within him.

you stuck against his lap so good, slickly sliding your ass back before going forward, then back into his pelvis again.

your movements alone left such a good taste in his mouth, and once he feels himself about to burst - he fuckin’ bursts.

a massive load spurts out of satoru, shooting deeply into your fluttering womb as your hips come to a freezing still.

you’re cumming too - whimpering as you’re gushing down on his cock while being absolutely filled.

wads ‘n wads of milky, gooey cum floods inside of you, plugging you to the fullest. you’re both moaning lowly, rocking against each other in rushed unison before you arch forward.

your ass was fully bent over, and satoru stared openly as he was still shooting such deep, frothy amounts inside of you.

you looked so pretty like this that he couldn’t help but mentally take a picture, widely peering at the foamy droplets of cum that started to trickle their way down his overwhelmed base—creating a sparkling white ring.

it’s still as thick - still as veiny, and satoru makes you raise your hips ever-so-slightly.

doing so, he stares at your soddened pussy that’s lewdly spitting out a few heaps of cum before hearing that cute wet ‘plop!’

“fuckin’ dirty girl..” he huffs, one hand softly caressing your waist beads. he takes a glance at the ‘G.S.’ initials that were engraved near the back side of the many other charms, and he sighs.

right as you’re pulled up to where his creamy tip was juuuust about to slide away from your soused opening, satoru gives your stuffed pussy a soft pat.

“don’t know who’s dirtier…. herrrr,” he mumbles, swabbing a thumb around your cum-covered hole before bringing it up to his mouth.

with a wet smacking ‘ccht’ of satoru’s lips coming together—he licks his thumb clean, cooing silently at the taste of himself like the filthy, filthy man he was. “or you.”

♡ ♡ ♡

after many, many positions, you found yourself losing multiple rounds with your shallow breath as if even breathing was a mere contest. he’s had you in position after position, folding you like a freshly baked pretzel. it’s almost like the two of you weren’t literally in a limousine.

you hoped his chauffeur nanami didn’t hear. that would’ve been well, embarrassing.

the drive felt like forever.. but, you honestly didn’t want it.. this to end.

you’re a mess, stuffed to the uttermost fullest with ribbons of satoru’s freshly hot cum messily tearing down every slick crevice of your thighs.

currently, satoru had you in one of his favorite positions.

doggy.

part of the reason why he loved it so much was mainly because of the perfect, jiggling view.

your ass - he loved seeing how it would react from each rude smack, swatting his palm over and over again at your cute, tender skin. the pads of your hands pressed firmly into the limo’s seats as he’s just giving you the pound of a damn lifetime.

“mngh!” you’d whine out, drooling from the sides of your jittery, spit-slick lips that refused to stay shut.

he’s effortlessly reaching all the right areas, swiftly pumping his way past that cute taut ring of your entrance that he’s grown to love.

that brief tight stretch nearly makes him lose his mind, and satoru then brings his hands toward your waist. “right there, right fuckin’ th— mmph!”

“shhh, you’re gonna.. hah- miss the best part, sweets,” the white-haired man cups a hand over your mouth.

slow strokes - deeper thrusts..

your eyes rolled ‘n rolled back, gasping against his palm once he sneaks a hand in between your wet thighs. with your waist beads tickling against his wrist, satoru gives your pussy a soft smack.

your wetness ‘splashes’ against the center of his hand, and it even pops out a cute sound too.

“uuugh- ‘m gonna… cum agaiiin,” you’d raise your ass in the air just a bit more, your voice turning more whiny within seconds.

your words were still a bit muffled with his hand covering your mouth, but he still made out your whiny, inaudible words—just barely. .

the sounds of fierce, sharp hips brutally clashing against skin every time made him groan. it’s a booming resounding ‘pop!’ or ‘pap!’ noise every time that makes your entire body ring instead of just your ears.

his cock’s searching through your wet, gripping walls as if it had some sort of life purpose.

“hah- me t.. too, sweetheart,” and fuck, satoru’s drowning in his sweat. “phew-” satoru brings the back of his wrist to wipe some from his forehead. glancing down, he stares at your jouncing ass before giving you one, snappingly deep thrust.

“pussy’s a fuckin’ workout- oh shiiiiit.” and satoru’s feeling you clamp clamp clamp down on him, giving his dick the work of its life.

you could feel the individual staticky pulses of your clit signaling messages to you that you’re just so close and you’re nearly salivating inside of your mouth.

soooo good.. for a moment you forgot the two of you were still in the back of a limousine.

he’s fucking you so good that you could barely think straight.

satoru’s still playing with your pussy, giving it spanks in between his robust thrusts.

his rotund tip beat red, an oxblood blush of red as he continued to ram a heart-shaped sloppy kiss toward your clit.

at that moment, your legs cutely retreated and your chest collapsed forward. “feels s.. sooo good satoru, ngh- ‘toruuu!”

as your body spasmed at the onslaught of his reckless, sloppy thrusts - your hips were all the way raised against his lap.

you’re losing track of thoughts as you’re harshly creaming down his shaft, murmuring out cute little babbles of ‘ooohs’ once you feel his angle deepen.

satoru brings a hand down your fleshy back, staring at your skin that was wetly decorated with sweat while studying the goosebumps that ran down your spine.

“ ‘m gonna.. hah- cum,” he groans, a few stubby fingers thrumming down the gold waist beads that wrapped around your waist.

he brings his thumb toward the tiny ‘G.S.’ initials before pressing his honed-shaped pelvis wholly into you with just a single, barbaric thrust.

“all mine, my pretty… hah- wife.”

wife?

you heard that — you definitely heard it, but part of you wondered if maybe satoru was just overly pussy drunk as usual.

but the thought alone - the thought of actually being his wife of satoru gojo, your sugar daddy, didn’t seem too bad.

as the image of you walking down the aisle crossed your mind, your throbbing brought you straight back into orgasmic reality.

“wait.. hnng- pull out,” you’d moan, another idea popping into your head. instead of satoru usually finishing inside, you had a better idea.

“haah- ‘kay,” he pants, his snapping hips working overtime as they continually mercilessly plunge deep into your heated core.

his rhythm was far slower, but his thrusts were always in such a hurried frenzy.

he’s close - so so close.

you’re still covered with his cum from before from the legs down, and it paints such a pretty canvas on you.

a lewd, erotic canvas maybe..

quickly, satoru ends up pulling out with a hand wrapped around his cock that painfully throbbed. it scrunched up a bit at the sudden coldness, already missing your clingy warmth before you flip over.

“h.. hm?”

“ ‘toru, put ‘em between here.” you spoke in a hushed tone, sinking your knees into the limo’s velveteen-made seats.

he hungrily stares at you with nothing but lust surrounding the entirety of his rounded, dilated pupils. at your sweet, breathy word of ‘here,’ you brought two hands up to your breasts.

“naughty… temptress,” satoru clicks his tongue. aligning his swollen dick in between the crack of your sweat-dripping chest, it easily sliiiiiides its way through.

he watches intently as you squeeze your tits together, glancing up at him with those pretty, siren eyes of yours that were starting to droop.

“mmh,” and as his tip disappears between the slot of your chest, you hang your head down, flicking your tongue across the tender slit of his shaft.

“f- fuck, ‘m gonna cum. can’t- hold it anymore, sweets,” satoru groans, his words so guttural ‘n low that they sounded almost like a growl.

he knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer, not when you were on your knees—stuffing his dick right between your perked tits.

he’s sloppily starting to thrust his cock in and out between the valley of your breasts and felt himself throb at each cute jounce they created amongst each other.

so …. soft.

satoru’s achy tip was forming into an angry shade of bloodshot red, and the entirety of his shaft was smoldering from the stimulation. after a few long milliseconds though—he finds himself shooting white blanks again.

he’s fucking between your tits as you held them together, spraying a nice sum of his load onto your chest. you gasp, a bit landing on your lip and you lick it.

satoru’s moaning - no, grunting as he’s finishing against your breasts. he drags a shaky hand through his tousled, white hair before letting off a deep, heavy sigh.

“ohhh… fuck,” he grumbles, the tips of his ears burning a fiery pink.

his limp cock now remains idle, still buried between your tits before you slide your tongue across the leaking creamed tip.

it’s so glossy, dribbling from all sides with his pasty mess plastered on the upper part of your chest. “didn’t know i had.. such a dirty sweethe- fuck.”

satoru pauses for theatrics — holding his breath, thinking he was still cumming, but he wasn’t.

his mind was simply playing tricks, and his jaw clenched once you lapped up the remnants of bittersweet tasting cum that splattered on you. you used your thumb to reach the spots your tongue couldn’t, and once you were finished, satoru bent down to pull you into a fervent, deep kiss.

you moaned against his lips as the limousine still created miles upon miles. you lost track of time, but you’d guess it’s probably been well over an hour's drive.

“mng-” satoru grunts into your lips, feeling your arms wrap around him. he still had his button-up shirt on the entire time along with his suit just above his torso. he’s tasting himself on your lips, grunting once he felt your hand tug on his ruffled black tie.

your tongue was sticky, swirling a circular pattern around the inside of his mouth before you sucked on his.

satoru allowed you to make him get underneath you, and he felt your legs crawling on top of him.

as you’re both still deeply making out — fighting each other with sharp slaps of teeth smacking against each other, you gingerly pull away.

“i’m your wife now?”

“h.. hm?”

“earlier,” you lick near the corner of his lip. “you said ‘m your pretty wife.”

satoru gives you a sleazy lopsided grin. he looked so pussy drunk that he almost forgot about that tiny piece of dialogue that spouted from his lips.

“ah, i did call you my wife, didn’t i, sweets?” and as a thumb caresses around your cheek, he hoarsely whispers. “well, do you want to be?”

bringing a wet, torrid kiss toward his bottom crooked lip, you hummed. “i do.”

“wish you would’ve told me sooner though,” he sheepishly says, giving his tie a few meek pulls. “i could’ve proposed the right way but.. this is fine too, i gues-.”

“shhh-” you silence him with yet another barrage of kisses, cupping his face.

satoru grunts, hearing the little jangles of your waist brands yet again as your hips laboriously swayed against him.

your forehead is pressed against his and its hit with a bunch of sweat from satoru.

satoru moans from your ardent, vehement kisses, his lips being left all plump, reddened, and not to mention swollen all because of you.

his dick twitches—a prominent vein striking near the left side as you steadily moved your dripping pussy against it in slow, ravishing rocks. “lie back,” you whispered, playfully pushing him back against the seat.

satoru reclines back with a ‘hmph’ and he raises a silvery brow at your audacity. “lie back ‘n let your fiancé ride you again.”

“heh.. yes, mrs. gojo.”

[theyluvjake]

our little secrets. — lhs

pt1 pt2 pt3 ...

Synopsis: cam boy heeseung. class president reader. the schools perfect student harbors a dirty secret, a dirty secret thats alot closer to her than she realizes. what happens when their paths cross? will they discover eachothers little secret?

MINORS DNI!

PAIRINGS - camboy!heeseung x innocent!reader

CONTENT - college au, smut & fluff with plot!! series, slow-burn, multiple chapters.

WORDCOUNT - 2.2k

WARNINGS - smut, but this chapter doesn't have anything except for masturbation, hee is kinda a perv.., reader is innocent class president who just so happens to have a secret obsession with a cam boy.. reader is a virgin, and almost completely inexperienced

NOT PROOFREAD

the schools golden girl. class president, never once has anyone even seen her with even a hair out of place. she was perfect in every way in the eyes of everyone else at the prestigious university. smart, pretty, and endlessly bubbly and kind. though she was friends with just about everyone, there was very limited people that were in her real "inner circle". the only couple of people that knew her well were her two best friends, also upper class and also very popular. yunjin and sunoo.

but then, there was lee heeseung, he wasn't the top student per-say, and he wasn't exactly "popular" but that's not to say people didn't notice him. he was definitely attractive and in an obvious way. he had a decent amount of friends due to his status as football captain. known for getting into trouble, fights, naturally, why would the two of you get along?.... complete and total opposites. .... or so it seemed.

but unbeknownst to anybody, you had a secret. a secret you would die if anyone found out. that would absolutely shatter your reputation. which is why you couldn't even tell your best friends.

one night you were scrolling on twitter when you came across a certain.... suggestive photo. you knew you shouldn't have clicked on it but it had just about hit the hour of the night when you started developing certain curiosities and you just couldn't help yourself... besides how would anyone find out?

yes. you were in college, you were 22 years old to be exact. and as embarrassing as it may seem, you didn't really have any dating experience. let alone any sexual ones. mostly due to the fact that you were more immersed in keeping up with your status and grades to be bothered with dating. its not that you didn't want a boyfriend... but you just didn't really know what to do? boys at school, honestly seemed too afraid to approach you, which ultimately led you to thinking that no one really had an interest in you. so here you were, at 2am on twitter, discovering a whole new world of pages you'd never seen before..

profile name: gamer.lhee

you read the username before your eyes wandered back down to the photo. the photo was sort of posed like a outfit-check, so at first you didn't really notice anything that was out of the ordinary. you just thought the photo was attractive... especially seeing the veiny hand that laid across his thigh. but as your eyes wandered further you could see the outline of his huge boner in the light grey sweatpants he was wearing. your eyes widened and jaw practically dropped (in preparation) before swallowing hard. you tried... (sorta), to look away but there was no use, as the pulsating between your legs was already evident.

*click* you pressed the profile icon, seeing his page littered with a plethora of pictures and short videos. along with a streaming sight & schedule linked within the bio. "Wendsdays and Fridays..." curiosity took over, as you began to scroll on the page, of course the account you were using wasn't your actual account. you were completely and fully aware of the presence you had on your public social media accounts. practically everyone from university followed you, you were their class president. if you had been liking or following anyone like this, someone would see.

and so this is how it started. a mindless scroll and now you were watching a clip on loop of some guy pumping his dick in his hand, while your own slid down into your pajama pants, feeling the warm sticky residue between the fabric of your panties. honestly, sadly and embarrassingly, you have never even fingered yourself before. you didn't exactly know what you were doing but you needed to feel something.. so just like that your fingers began to mindlessly play with your pussy, finding your clit fingers circling the bundle of nerves. — you didn't even realize how good it could feel just to to touch.. not even having to put anything inside. in all honesty that part sort of scared you a little bit.

shamefully, it was only but a few minutes until you felt your legs shaking, mindlessly whining as you imagined the filthy scene of you and this random man drilling into you.

now, you found yourself every single wednesday and friday night, logging onto his website to watch him. and it wasn't even just that he was physically attractive, and sure he was. but it was everything about him. the way he spoke, his voice, his confidence, his aura, that drew you in so deeply. and ever since then nothing and i mean nothing. else could get you off.

you kept telling yourself "its normal" "its healthy" "everyone does it" but they were just words to comfort yourself. try to hide the fact that you felt so dirty for enjoying it, feeling like a pervert for having a smallest crush on a random man on the internet to which you had never even seen his face.

or so you thought.....

—

lee heeseung. the two of you knew of each other, maybe walk past each other a few times, spoke maybe once or twice in a group setting. but it wasn't much. not much at all. he knew you were seen as "untouchable". but that didn't mean he didn't want to try. miss perfect, class president, perfect grades, perfect face. heeseung had always sort of kept his eye out on you. sure, so did pretty much every other guy in school, but with him it was different. there was something about you, actually it was everything about you. not to mention you were just about the prettiest girl to exist in his eyes.

but something about your perfect little persona made him wonder what it would be like to tear that down. what would be underneath it all? he hated himself for it, but he became borderline obsessed with the thought of ruining you. day in and day out the classes that you two shared, you were almost completely unaware of his presence, but little did you know, almost all day he was staring at you from the back of the class. eyes undressing you, imagining what you'd look like without your pretty school uniform on. fuck. he quickly shook his head trying to calm his racing thoughts. he didn't know how yet but he knew by the end of the year he had to have you. one way or another.

—

"a party..?" you sighed completely dumbfounded your best friend's had even suggested the idea.

"when have i EVER, been to a party?" your tone was completely telling of your stance on this insane suggestion.

"that's the point!!!" yunjin jumped around excitedly at the idea.

"no. no way. , don''t you think that will just make everyone i don't know.... not take me seriously?"

"who cares what they think!! its college y/n you have to go to at least one before we graduate. plus i doubt it will make anyone take you 'less seriously'... well, like as long as you don't get shit faced."

you sighed completely perplexed you were even considering the idea at all. but you couldn't lie and say that you had no interest at all, actually you did. but unlike your outgoing confident best friend, you unfortunately did sort of care what other people thought.

..

"fuck it. fine." you sighed and watched as yunjin and sunoo practically jumped around in circles excitedly.

"i don't really have anything to wear.." — "say less. i already have some outfits planned for us both!" yunjin smiled excitedly. what.... had you gotten yourself into.

—

it was the weekend of the party. friday night. typically you spent your friday's at home and when it got late... tuned in for a particular stream. but almost like a blessing, for some reason hee tweeted earlier in the day, he wouldn't be streaming tonight but tomorrow instead. you were just sorta glad you wouldn't have to miss it. as weird and coincidental as it was.

you yunjin and sunoo all shared a dorm, so it was easy for you all to get ready together. while yunjin was still overflowing with excitement, you on the other hand were almost a little anxious? particularly when yunjin showed you the outfit she had planned for you to wear. "no. no way. yunjin you cant be serious... will that skirt even cover my ass???" you held up the mini skirt concerningly.

she shrugged, "i don't know, doesn't matter though! anyways go try it on and see, its gonna be soo cute!!"

you sighed as you picked up the clothes heading back to your room. she had picked out a white ruffled mini skirt with a baby pink corseted top, along with some cute mary janes and thigh high socks that had small little bows at the tops. the literal only positive of the outfit, was that she at least kept your personal style in mind. only meaning the colors, frills and girlyness of it all.

when you put it on, thankfully it did cover your ass, barely. but it did. you uncomfortably tried to pull the skirt down and attempted to adjust the top so that your boobs weren't completely spilling out of it. god. what am i doing. you sighed and took another look in the mirror. you looked good, hot honestly, but it was the unfamiliarity of it all that made you uncomfortable. never once in your life have you went out of the house like this. and now, you were, and of all places, somewhere where all your fellow classmates would see you.

before long, yunjin had done a full on makeover and curled your hair perfectly. at this point your didn't even recognize yourself. "who's- AH ! omgod. y/n?!?!?" sunoo jumped dramatically when he saw the finished look, acting as if he had just saw a total stranger for a minute. and honestly, you don't blame him. "do i look ridiculous?" you squinted, though yunjin obviously had been hyping you up, you definitely needed another perspective to make sure this wasn't completely insane. "no, you look... hot. if i liked girls, i would totally-"

"ok shut up. thanks i guess.." you rolled your eyes sarcastically before the three of you made your way out of the shared dorm and drove over to the address of the house where the party was being held.

mentally preparing yourself, you took a deep breath before exiting the car, yunjin and sunoo locking arms with you as you walked together towards the house. the first think you smelled was alcohol. so much alcohol, the air was thick and the house was dimmly lit with blasting music. but what you didn't notice while you were distracted taking in the atmosphere was the people starting to stare, quietly whispering to their friends. "is that y/n?? there's no fucking way.."

to say people were shocked to see you at a frat party, was the understatement of the year. as soon as you came back to reality you could feel the stares. "is everyone looking at us.." you leaned over whispering in sunoo's ear.

"no!! definitely not! .... - they are looking at you~" he playfully winked. and as a result you just sighed as to try and shake off the anxiety overflowing through your body. the three of your finally found the kitchen where yunjin introduced you to a group of guys you hadn't even been aware she was friends with. most of them of which were on the football team. "hey sunghoon!" she smiled and walked up to the boy, "hey yun, you're attending parties now?" he laughed and she playfully hit his arm. "y/n is with you?" he not so discreetly eyed you up and down.

"yea, she made me. hey sunghoon," you smiled a bit timidly. the rest of the boys in the group introducing themselves like you all hadn't already known each other's names. you knew of each other, but didn't really know each other. "hey im heeseung,"

"yea i know! your in my economics class," you smiled,

"and lit and physics." he held his same warm smile as you looked a bit flustered, feeling a bit embarrassed for not having noticed the amount of time you two were actually together, unknowingly.

"oh yea... sorry"

the boy just chuckled softly, "no problem pretty, maybe now you'll notice me,"

you were a bit taken aback by the sudden compliment, but more-so, the way he said it.. "pretty". it was almost like you'd heard it before. but you were absolutely sure you hadn't. if you did you definitely would have remembered.

"oh my god." your heart started to race cheeks that were slightly tinged with color now completely red. "no fucking way. hee ... seung? hee? no no no there's no way." it was only just a matter of seconds to which your mind had been racing around. only snapped back into reality when you heard the voice of him again, this time he was holding out a drink for you, but your eyes went to his hands. not the cup.

"i - um i have to go.. to the b-bathroom.." you quickly almost ran through the crowd of people, muttering small excuse me's and sorry's. with no actual clue where you were even going. leaving the rest of the group utterly confused.

— tbc.

pt2.

[billiewena]

FOUR YEARS SINCE NOV 5TH, 2020, as summed up by Supernatural

past recaps: year one / year two / year three / year four

full context and sources below:

various explanations + resources/sources/extra reading on this year's recap:

balls deep: misha collins says the quiet part out loud at Cross Roads 8 Supernatural Convention, saying "if the CW wasn't so homophobic dean and cas would've been balls deep for sure" at a con (x) (x) (x)

garthbenny canon: supernatural actors DJ Qualls (who played hunter-turned-werewolf Garth Fitzgerald) and Ty Olsson (who played the vampire Benny Lafitte) reveal they're married, delighting crack shippers like myself everywhere (x)

spn spooky picture book: official supernatural children's picture book is released, retconning things like john winchester as a happy father figure and castiel being their cowardly childhood friend who sorta hangs around (x) (x)

boop button: tumblr introduces a feature people enjoy for once for april fool's day and halloween and allows users to boop each other, spn bloggers re-awake like sleeper agents to use it in full force (x) (x)

bedlund speaks on destiel: former spn writer ben edlund goes on a tweet fest replying to fans, talking about destiel multiple times including this profound tweet (x)

clear text, not subtext: jensen speaks out again on the confession at Purcon 8, this time taking a more open stance on how the relationship was textual, his take on dean's feelings about cas's feelings, and how the scene with cas deserved a resolution (x)

bury your gays: famed author chuck tingle (known for his plethora of highly specific and delightfully inclusive, if strange, indie erotica novels) publishes his second mainstream horror novel, inspired by TV network studios' infamous history of censoring LGBT relationships and openly killing off queer characters. In a non-subtle nod to supernatural fans, the main character is named misha. (sidenote: did end up reading this and this book is actually really good commentary on the industry in general and really good, 10/10 recommend) (x) also someone got the book signed by misha, to further break the fourth wall (x)

tracker: jensen ackles begins starring in a CBS show where he is basically csoplaying dean winchester, with the show featuring many non-subtle spn references (i.e. him pretending to almost get in an impala before going to his truck, characters wearing spn necklaces, etc.) (x) (x) (x) (special shout-out to clarice @youre-only-gay-once for expertly tracking the tracker show and these easter eggs, highly recommend their tag for their show)

cw's walker cancelled: fans rejoiced upon hearing the cancellation news for jared's post-supernatural show, walker, a remake of "walker texas ranger." in addition to generally being a copaganda show for the notoriously racist texas rangers, jared's inspiration for the show's direction caused much concern. the actor himself said the show was inspired by the US border crisis, not by the immigrant families affected by the separation and internment, but instead wanting exploring the POV of the law enforcement agents working at the border and the moral dilemmas they had to face (x)

pro-destiel Wonder Woman: Lynda Carter (aka the iconic and beloved original actress for Wonder Woman, not the z*onist one) says she could "go for some Destiel" when promoting #GeeksandNerdsforHarrisWalz and Misha's involvement (x) the rest of the spn cast and original Showrunner Kripke were also a big part of this event

chili's backfire: the chain restaurant chili's drags destiel while interacting with 9-1-1 bucktommy shippers on twitter, immediately gets backfire. notably, their stock takes a dip the next day. coincidence? maybe so, maybe not (x) (x)

samgirl voting fraud: "who is the gayest spn character" tumblr poll surprisingly gets heated, with a blogger straight-up admitting they used a bot on the "castiel vs. sam" poll to rig the poll in sam's favor, which they apparently also did for w*ncest in another poll in the past, and posting a guide on how anyone could do the same. luckily democracy wins in this one instance and castiel prevails anyways, leading to an also contested "castiel vs. charlie bradbury" round (x) (x)

pink pony jarpad: jared is spotted at lesbian pop star chappell roan's set at a festival, un-likely place for him to be (x) also may have been one of the "boring" people called out by chappell? (x)

pro-kamala castiel: in a last-ditch effort to get out the vote, misha uses the power of castiel photo ops to campaign for harris-walz and even shouts-out destiel. I feel depressed writing this sentence, if you've made it this long in your read and you're in the states I hope you're doing alright! maybe by the time I wake up things will be a little different though. (x)

[wario-land]

Do YOU want to turn your PC into a Wario playing machine??

This pack contains: 28 of the best games ever made

All of the mainline titles, plus a plethora of the most essential significant and key moments in Wario's career as a gaming icon

Also an Art book and a Music album - Emulators included inside

Does it contain every single game that has Wario in it? No, that would be stupid. But it does contain all the ones that matter the most, from humble origins, guest appearances, and the ones that would go on to become great hits or cult classics. The full Wario History Experience.

Get it here!! Free Download (8 GB Compressed)

www.mediafire.com/file/jn63ib6gabfi00l/Wario+Hyper+Collection.rar

drive.google.com/file/d/1WWOZ5WGXG1ew8v_gLFP4zEsjmQMWaAKe

[hierodulamantidae]

a plethora of circular icon masks with accompanying symbols. last one was made with the colors of the flag of Palestine, if you want to use it that way

use these however you want, but please mind my dni and credit my main.

filegarden folder

brief dni: no exclusionists of any kind (from terfs to mspec lesbian exclusionists), no anti-endos, no pro/comshippers/anti-antis

[xabiramone]

By Erin Miranda Parker

In celebration of the 40th anniversary of the Ramones’ self-titled debut album, the Queens Museum is displaying a plethora of original memorabilia from throughout the band’s eminent career. The exhibit, “Hey! Ho! Let’s Go: Ramones and the Birth of Punk,” is named after the band’s legendary 1976 anthem, “Blitzkrieg Bop.” Hailing from Queens, New York, the four original Ramones attended Forest Hills High, just a mile away from the Queens Museum. Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee, and Tommy first came on the scene in the mid-1970s with a loud, snotty, in-your-face sound, departing from the folk-rock and disco songs that were saturating the airwaves. The Ramones played for the first time at CBGB, the iconic biker bar on Bowery, which was also frequented by Blondie, Patti Smith, and the Talking Heads. Visual artists who mingled with these musicians in downtown lofts and tenements took wind of the new genre, beginning to create artwork that would create a key visual identity to go along with the new sound.

[llazyneiph]

I'm thrilled to announce the release of my latest Sims mod: "Elders Expanded"! 🌟

This mod is a labor of love aimed at enhancing the aging experience in The Sims, with a focus on expanding the lives of elder Sims. 🧓👵✨

In this mod, you'll discover a plethora of new features and interactions designed to immerse your elder Sims in the joys and challenges of growing older. From ailing health conditions like deteriorating eyesight and hearing to the need for dentures, to the services which'll make your elders twilight years easier, this mod offers a comprehensive and enriching gameplay experience for your elder Sims. 🏡🎉

Check out the guide document here for a detailed overview of all the features included in the mod and how to incorporate them into your gameplay. 📝👀

Video tutorial coming later today! Trailer also coming later today!

Thank you for your support and happy simming! 🌟😊

This mod REQUIRES these to work correctly:

XML Injector by Scumbumbo CoreLibrary by Lot51 

Meal Truck Icon by Flat Icons Takeaway Bag Icon by AranagraphicsRocking Chair Schedule Icon by juicy_fish 

DOWNLOAD

[arminreindl]

Deinosuchus: Giant Alligator or something older?

I know the title sucks, I couldn't think of anything poetic or clever ok? Anyways, still catching up on croc papers to summarize and this one did make a few waves when it was published about a week ago.

"Expanded phylogeny elucidates Deinosuchus relationships, crocodylian osmoregulation and body-size evolution" is a new paper by Walter, Massonne, Paiva, Martin, Delfino and Rabi, with quite a few of these authors having considerable experience with crocodile research. The thesis of the study is both simple and unusual. They suggest that several crocodilians traditionally held as stem-alligators, namely Deinosuchus, Leidyosuchus and Diplocynodon, weren't alligatoroids at all. In fact, if the study holds up they might not have been true crocodilians.

Ok, lets take a step back and briefly look at our main three subjects. Deinosuchus of course needs no introduction, a titan of the Cretaceous also known as the terror crocodile in some more casual sources, its easily one of the most iconic fossil crocodiles. It lived on either side of the Western Interior Seaway during the Campanian, fed on giant turtles and dinosaurs and with size estimates of up to 12 meters its easily among the largest crocodylomorphs who have ever lived.

Artwork by Brian Engh

Leidyosuchus also lived during the Campanian in North America and I would argue is iconic in its own right, albeit in a different way. It's historic to say the least and once housed a whole plethora of species, but has recently fallen on hard times in the sense that most of said species have since then been transferred to the genus Borealosuchus.

Artwork by Joschua Knüppe

Finally there's Diplocynodon, the quintessential croc of Cenozoic Europe. With around a dozen species found from the Paleocene to the Miocene all across Europe, it might be one of the most well studied fossil crocs there is, even if its less well known by the public due to its relatively unimpressive size range.

Artwork by Paleocreations

All three of these have traditionally been regarded as early members of the Alligatoroidea, one of the three main branches that form Crocodilia. In these older studies, Alligatoroidea can be broken up into three groups nested within one another. Obviously the crown is formed by the two living subfamilies, Alligatorinae and Caimaninae, both of which fall into the family Alligatoridae. If you take a step further out you get to the clade Globidonta, which in addition to proper Alligatorids also includes some basal forms with blunt cheek teeth as well as Orientalosuchina, tho jury's still out on whether or not they are truly alligator-relatives. And if you take a final step back and view Alligatoroidea as a whole, then you got our three main subjects neatly lined up outside of Globidonta in varying positions.

Below a highly simplified depiction of previous phylogenies. Deinosuchus, Leidyosuchus and Diplocynodon are often regarded as non-globidontan alligatoroids.

This new study however changes that long standing concensus. The team argues that several features we once thought defined alligatoroids are actually way more common across Crocodilia and even outside of it while also leverging some of the features of Deinosuchus and co. that have always been out of the ordinary. For instance, early alligatoroids are generally characterized as being comparably small, having had short, rounded heads, the afforementioned globular cheek teeth and of course the feature that still allows us to differentiate them from true crocodiles, the fact that they have a clear overbite. Now Leidyosuchus, Deinosuchus and Diplocynodon all have proportionally longer snouts than alligatoroids, their teeth interfinger like in crocodiles and most prominently (and namegiving for Diplocynodon) there is a large notch behind the snout tip that serves to receive two enlarged teeth of the lower jaw. These are of course just superficial examples, but if you wanna get into the nitty gritty check out the paper.

Below a simplified version of the papers phylogeny. Borealosuchus clades with Diplocynodon and Leidyosuchus and Deinosuchus are successive taxa. Planocraniidae are the sister to Crocodilia, which consists of Crocodyloids, Gavialoids (together Longirostres) and Alligatoroids.

Something also worth addressing in light of these results is salt tolerance in crocodilians and paleogeography. Basically, if you ignore Deinosuchus and co. (or well, just follow this new paper), then it is most likely that alligatoroids originated on the continent of Laramidia, i.e. the western half of America back when it was bisected by an enormous inland sea. Today, alligatoroids are famously intolerant of saltwater, yes, there are instances where alligators have been known to enter coastal waters, but its a far cry from what true crocodiles can achieve (just an example here's my recent post on Caribbean crocodiles). Given that alligatoroids don't appear on Appalachia, the other half of North America, until after the inland sea closes, this very much suggest that this intolerance goes way back. This has however always been at odds with Deinosuchus, which famously showed up along both the eastern and the western coast of the inland sea and at least lived close enough to the coast to leave its mark on the shells of sea turtles. We know it inhabited various near-shore environments and even stable isotope analysis of its teeth points towards it consuming either saltwater or prey that lives in the ocean. To a lesser degree its worth mentioning Diplocynodon, which though usually a freshwater animal has at least one species from coastal deposits. Now I do think its worth highlighting that just being salt tolerant doesn't necessarily mean they can't have been alligatoroids, given that salt glands could have easily been lost after Deinosuchus split off from other alligatoroids. Nevertheless, a position as a stem-crocodilian does add up with it being salt tolerant, with the assumption being that being tolerant to saltwater is basal to crocodilians as a whole and was simply lost in a select few lineages such as alligatoroids.

Given that its range spanned both coastlines of the Western Interior Seaway as well as direct evidence for interactions with marine life, Deinosuchus likely ventured out into the sea from time to time like some modern crocodiles.

There's also the matter of timing. When alligatoroids first appeared 82 million years ago, we already see the classic blunt-snouted morphotype with Brachychampsa and our dear giant Deinosuchus. Now if both were alligatoroids, this would suggest that they've been separate quite some time before that to bring forth these drastically different forms, yet attempts to estimate the divergence date suggest that they split no earlier than 90 million years ago. So if Deinosuchus is not an alligatoroid, then the timeline adds up a bit better. However I think the best example of this new topology really explaining an evolutionary mystery doesn't come from Deinosuchus, but from Diplocynodon. Those that know me might remember that I started working on researching Diplocynodon for Wikipedia, a process that's been slow and painfull both due to the 200 years of research history and the good dozen or so species placed in this genus. Tangent aside, one big mystery around Diplocynodon is its origin. They first appear in the Paleocene and survive till the Miocene, tend to stick to freshwater and oh yeah, species of this genus are endemic to Europe. Given that previous studies recovered them as alligatoroids, nobody was quite sure where Diplocynodon came from. Did they originate in North America and cross the Atlantic? Where they salt tolerant before and simply stuck to freshwater once in Europe? Or are they a much older alligatoroid lineage that entered Europe via Asia after having crossed Beringia. You know, the kind of headbreaking stuff we get when the fossil record is incomplete. But this new study recovers Diplocynodon as being closely related to the non-crocodilian Borealosuchus from the Cretaceous to Paleogene of North America. And that makes some sense, historically the two have been noted to be similar, hell there were even cases when Borealosuchus remains were thought to be North American examples of Diplocynodon. And Borealosuchus has the same double caniniforms as the other crocs we discussed so far. So when our three former alligatoroids got pushed outside of Crocodilia, Diplocynodon ended up forming a clade with Borealosuchus. And since Borealosuchus was wide spread in America by the late Cretaceous, and possibly salt tolerant, then it could have easily spread across Greenland and Scandinavia after the impact, giving rise to Diplocynodon.

The results of this study seem to suggest that Borealosuchus and Diplocynodon are more closely related that previously thought.

And since this is a Deinosuchus paper...of course theres discussion about its size. A point raised by the authors is that previous estimates typically employ the length of the skull or lower jaw to estimate body length, which might not be ideal and is something I definitely agree with. The problem is that skull length can vary DRASTICALLY. Some animals like early alligatoroids have very short skulls, but then you have animals in gharials in which the snout is highly elongated in connection to their ecology. Given that Deinosuchus has a relatively long snout compared to early alligatoroids, size estimates based on this might very well overestimate its length, while the team argues that head width would yield a more reasonable results. Previous size estimates have ranged from as low as 8 meters to as large as 12, which generally made it the largest croc to have ever existed. Now in addition to using head width, the team furthermote made use of whats known as the phylgenetic approach, which essentially bypasses the problem of a single modern analogue with peculariar proportions influencing the result. Now there is a bunch more that went into the conclusion, but ultimately the authors conclude that in their opinion, the most likely length for the studied Deinosuchus riograndensis specimen was a mere 7.66 meters in total length. And before you jump to any conclusions, DEINOSUCHUS WOULD HAVE GOTTEN BIGGER TRUST ME. I know having read "12 meter upper estimate" earlier is quite a contrast with the resulting 7.66 meters, but keep in mind this latter estimate is just one specimen. A specimen that in previous studies was estimated to have grown to a length of somewhere between 8.4 - 9.8 meters. Now yes, this is still a downsize overall, but also given that this specimen is far from the largest Deinosuchus we have, this means that other individuals would have certainly grown larger. Maybe not those mythical 12 meters, but still very large. So please keep that in mind.

Two different interpretations of the same specimen of Deinosuchus. Top a proportionally larger-headed reconstruction by randomdinos, bottom a smaller-headed reconstruction by Fadeno. I do not care to weigh in on the debate other than to say that size tends to fluctuate a lot between studies and that I'm sure this won't be the last up or downsize we see.

Regardless of the details, this would put Deinosuchus in the "giant" size category of 7+ meters, while early alligatoroids generally fall into the small (<1.5 meters) or medium (1.5-4 meters) size categories. The authors make an interesting observation relating to gigantism in crocs at this point in the paper. Prevously, temperature and lifestyle were considered important factors in crocs obtaining such large sizes, but the team adds to that the overall nature of the available ecosystem. In the case of Deinosuchus, it inhabited enormous coastal wetlands under favorable temperature conditions and with abundant large sized prey, a perfect combination for an animal to grow to an enormous size. And this appears to be a repeated pattern that is so common its pretty much regarded as a constant. To quote the authors, "a world with enormous crocodyliforms may have been rather the norm than the exception in the last ~ 130 million years." For other examples look no further than the Miocene of South America, the extensive wetlands of Cretaceous North Africa or even Pleistocene Kenya.

One striking example for repeated gigantism in crocodilians can be found in Miocene South America, when the caimans Purussaurus and Mourasuchus both independently reached large sizes alongside the gharial Gryposcuhus. The illustration below by Joschua Knüppe features some of the smaller earlier members of these species in the Pebas Megawetlands.

So that's it then, case closed. Deinosuchus and co aren't salt-tolerant alligators, they are stem-crocodilians. Deinosuchus was smaller than previously thought and Diplocynodon diverged from Borealosuchus. Leidyosuchus is also there. It all adds up, right? Well not quite. This all is a massive upheaval from what has previously been accepted and while there were outliers before, the alligatoroid affinities of these animals were the concensus for a long time. Future studies will need to repeat the process, analyse the data and the anatomical features and replicate the results before we can be sure that this isn't just a surprisingly logical outlier. Already I heard some doubts from croc researchers, so time will tell if Deinosuchus truly was some ancient crocodilian-cousin or if previous researchers were correct in considering it a stem-alligator. I for one will keep my eyes peeled.

[madewithsilk]

— SHE'S THE SERPENTINE

— TOJI FUSHIGURO x fem model reader

in which... you're a renown model, famous for runways and fashion shows with the greatest designers. But above all, infamous for the scandals with men and women, one night stands or long term relationships. Toji Fushiguro isn't too involved in all of that, he's known, sure, but he stays out of celebrity gossip by all means necessary. Though, it was hardly impossible to not learn about all the scandals you've been involved in. He finds soon enough what makes you so enticing.

— SHE'S MY COLLAR

beware of; sleeping w/ multiple people mentioned, paparazzi, body worship, open sexuality (r), drug consumption (alcohol, coke, etc), misogynistic terms (Shui), unintentional intox, experienced reader, creampie, breast play, size kink, spitting, degrading, breeding kink, use of “little girl” and “slut”

The first time Toji Fushiguro had heard of you was against his will. Your face was plastered everywhere on social media. Scandal accounts on instagram, gossip pages on twitter, you name it and you were there. Every week was something new. You saw two people at the same time and they found out or you hooked up drunk and wasted with an A list celebrity. Each time an interviewer confronted you about it, your bottom lip trapped itself between your teeth, an unapologetic yet guilty expression on your features. "Whoops?"

Toji hates to say it, but he was hypnotized. The shameless amount of sexuality you presented was different, it set you apart from celebrities or models who wished to keep their lives private.

It was finally February, and the most anticipated event of the year loomed ever closer: New York Fashion Week. Designers with international acclaim, iconic brands, and a plethora of celebrities would converge under the same glittering roof. Models would grace the runway with fall and winter collections that had intricate details and bold designs, and by the end of it all, after-parties were promised.

As his sleek, tinted car glided to a stop outside the venue, flashes erupted around him, capturing every moment of his entrance. The pulsating city lights bathed him in a jarring glow while fan girls strained against the red ribbons that barred them from reaching him. Men in sharp suits rushed to surround him, hiding his apperance from intrusive cameras.

He couldn't resist a small throaty chuckle leaving his lips, adjusting the tie around his suit. His outfits were common among the men, but the women he spotted were extravagant to another level. Inside the grand building was nothing short of sumptuous architecture and people who could guide him to a seat. Everyone was given a pamphlet with the model's names and the brand they would be representing. Toji's eyes darted around to find the seat assigned to him.

He removed his coat, draping it over the backrest of the chair. His brow was constantly cocked, giving the occasional smile to anyone he recognizes. A small grunt left his lips as he sat down, opening the piece of paper to skim over the model and designer names. The music went silent in his brain as his eyes focused on your name in bold, right under the title of Christian Siriano. Shut sat right down besides him, snapping Toji out of the trance with and elbow nudge. "Anyone specific you're watching?" He teases, and Toji laughs, giving a swift nod.

Meanwhile, your brain was hectic and lost. Everything overwhelms you during this time of the year, directors yelling names constantly, hair not sitting right, makeup smudging. Everyone enjoyed fashion week except the models under constant pressure. Backstage was bare and plain compared to the runway, ensuring a more calm space for staff but even that didn't help. Your section was about to go on stage and the only thing calming your chills was the promised parties right after.

Women around you were adjusting any quirks on your dress, retouching blush and lipstick, and any last-minute decisions just so a minute and a half could be perfect. The dress was red, frills towards the end and provactive above the waist. Your clevage was nearly completely on display, a statement to your usual fashion and life choices that the designer made sure to emphasize on.

You took a sharp breath, a hostess shouting our your name on the mic with a brief introduction. Heels bouncing off the floor, your steps were heavy on the black, wooden-clad platform. Coos echoed and pictures snapped all around. You made sure to keep your composure when reaching the end of the stage, focusing on a random person's face. As Toji's gaze met yours, he widened his own, receiving a small wink before you turned back around to strut towards the curtains you came out of.

Shui noticed the expression of shock, nodding his head at Toji. "Gonna go for the community whore?" He mocked, a shrug coming from Toji in response.

That night, you both ended up at the same after party. Your hair was disheveled, makeup dripping from constant laughter, and rubbing your nose from the lines of coke you had done. It was obvious that as the night grew older, the clock quickening to hit three at midnight, you were seeking out someone to take with you. And Toji wasn't one to pass up opportunities.

He fixed up his tie, slipping between people to get to you quicker. You nearly tumbled at his quick movements, holding onto his bicep to stabilize yourself. When your head shifted upwards, getting sight of the man, you let out a slurred chuckle. "You," Toji laughed at your one-worded comment, hands slithering to your waist, innocently playing it off as helping you.

"Me," He replied, eyes teasingly widening. You squeezed at his bicep, shamelessly eyeing him. "Toji, am'right?" Your words trembled over eachother. He nodded, pressing you flush against his body. He could play womanizer if it was required of him. "You're completely wasted, little lady." You pouted, half-lidded eyes fluttering at him. "Am not, just a bit woozy." He swayed his head, his scent was intoxicating. It was bourbon entangled with some fancy cologne.

His presentation was so snarky, just so confident he'd get you to himself. "Think I should take you home myself," He whispered into your ear, sending a warm shiver down your spine. "Ya' know, make sure you don't get yerself into any danger." You heaved at his words, a small needy whimper leaving your already parted lips. He knew this wouldn't be your reaction if you weren't gone on all sorts of drugs, you were far too calculated for that. Yet here you were like putty in his hands.

That night, he laid it down on you. He'd been craving this shit for so long, seeing everyone get a taste besides him. He knew he was going to take advantage of this moment, strip every article of clothing from your body slowly, not giving in too quickly. He didn't care how much you whined or complained, how much you tugged on his hair and wrapped your legs around his torso. He was taking it slow, kissing down your neck with utmost patience.

You were completely nude yet his body hadn't been exposed to you, underneath your flushed look, you were so damn frustrated. Every few moments, in between moans, you'd tug at his shirt or grind against his covered abs. Everyone always gave you what you wanted, the moment you demanded it. They didn't make you wait inbetween hot, wet kisses down your body along with the scent of only your arousal overwhelming you.

He took his time on your breasts, fondling them with his large palms. “You cold, doll?” He asked teasingly, fingertip toying with your hardened nipples. Your head was thrown back, just needing to be stuffed already. A groan left your lips, bucking your hips upwards. “Hurry.” The drugs were still affecting you, but they wore off by the moment. He sucked on the nipples, tongue warm and moist against your skin. You whimpered, tugging on his black hair.

He was at that for a moment, switching tits, spitting on them and smothering it all over. When he started unbuckling his pants, you had countless marks and bruises all over the sensitive skin. “You’re ridiculous.” You scoffed, just hypnotized by how his cock left an imprint on his boxers. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, gaping with need and slick.

Toji released his dick, springing to his lower abdomen. It was leaking with precum, the tip was red and irritated. You tried to reach over to stroke him but he swatted your hand away. “Are you on birth control?” He asked, voice raspy with hunger. You nodded your head yes, he was already pressing the fat tip inside your hole. You whined, gasping and trying to stabilize yourself with his shoulder. “Take– take this shit off,” You spat at him, gesturing towards the fabric covering his upper half. He rolled his eyes, retreating his hands from your hips and instead to his tie, removing it till there was nothing left.

You left your palms explore his torso, his abs, whining at the happy trail leading down to his cock. While you were distracted, his cock drilled into you, kissing your cervix when he bottomed out. You whined, a throaty moan being forced out of you from the sheer stretch. “Toji—“ He chuckled, beads of sweat gathering at his forehead and making the single strands stick to it. You’ve been with many men, girthy, lengthy, all of it, but Toji’s wasn’t anything you’ve dealt with.

Toji watched in awe as your fluttering hole tried to adjust to his cock. He wanted to just ram into you, but he had some consideration. Tears welled at your waterline, partly because of the pain, but mostly because you needed more. “Toji, move,” Your words were slurred, biting your lower lip as he pulls out and thrusts back into your cunt. The squelching noises were loud, bouncing off the walls. “Gonna take this shit, alright?” You nodded mindlessly, watching as his hips speed up and the flesh-to-flesh noises gain strength.

Toji had you babbling, tongue lolling out, hardly able to form a coherent sentence. The curve of his cock hit against your g-spot each time, abusing the gummy spot over and over again. He snaked an arm between your thighs, rubbing circles into your clit at a quicker pace. “To-Toji—“ He held onto your thighs, pressing them further against your chest. “Can’ttt,” He licked his lips, feeling you clamp down harder on his dick. The double stimulation of your nub and cunt was too much to take.

“You can.” He stated, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. “Open this slutty mouth,” You did as told, stretching your tongue out. He spat onto it, pace not relenting. Although you whined in complain, you still swallowed it, thick spit running down your throat. “How many men have dumped their load into you? You need dick to live, huh?” He was shaming you, shaming how much sex you had, shaming your lifestyle, yet it just made the knot in your tummy grow increasingly. “Maybe you are just a pretty lil’ face and body meant to be used,” You whined, drool running down your chin.

He laughed at the pathetic sight, hips stuttering as he neared his orgasm. “There we go, c’mon,” You gushed onto his dick before he could, your cum soaking his lower abdomen and your own thighs. He didn’t stop, still chasing his orgasm desperately. Toji could feel your cunt spasming from the overstimulation. “I’m gonna cum in this pussy, gonna fuck a baby into you.” He heaved out, head burying into your neck as he blew thick ropes of cum into your cunt.

Toji pressed a hand down on your tummy as he pulled out, cum spilling out. “Fuck,” You were fucked out, whimpering. “So sweet, just existing to take cum,” He mocked, a small pout on your lips.

He decided to spend the night, but in the morning, as he gathered his shit, you slowly stirred awake. You were sobered up but the hangover was drastic. “Shiiit.” Toji laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed while fixing his watch. You scooted towards him, pressing your completely nude body against his clothed back. “Need money or somethin’?” You scoff, pushing him away yet still sleepily ending up against his back again. “I’m not a prostitute, I probably make more money than you.” He laughed once again, standing and watching you flop onto the bed.

He flicked your forehead with his middle finger and thumb, forcing a small wince and yelp. “Just fuckin’ with you.” He assured, throwing the covers over your goosebump lathered body. He was about to walk out, leaving something on the dresser. You were about to groan in annoyance, imagining it to be money or something of the sort. As your eyes focused in on it, a few digits were written out.

As he was walking out your apartment for the first time, he knew it was gonna be a hassle. Cameras were flashing at him, surrounded by paparazzi intrigued by this new relationship. “Sir, were you in there with famous model—“ Before the man could finish his sentence, Toji walked past the microphone with an increased speed “Fuck off,” They kept chasing after him but he slammed the car door in their faces.

After he started seeing you more, he realized why you could never keep a long term relationship. You were incredibly high maintenance. You were both at the mall, trying on a thousand pairs of lingerie sets, another dozen of shoes, you name it. He followed you around, holding your bags. Yet, he promised he was going to be the one to keep you.

Every time you offered your card at a store, he jerked your hand away (gently, of course) and gave his own. Who were you to deny a willing gentleman? A small giggle was a constant while walking around, “I’m gonna run your shit dry.” You made fun, poking his side. Toji grumbled playfully, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your laid hair. “Yeah? Think I don’t benefit from this too, little girl?” You huff, attempting to get his broad arms off of you but he only holds onto you tighter, intentionally bothering you.

He also started attending every one of your shows. He usually only went to big ones where he was encouraged to make an appearance, but now he’d be sat at every one with a pamphlet, awaiting your walk. Eventually, he started collecting the little pamphlets they gave to him, including the first one from Fashion Week.

He was so easily entranced by your walk, your body, everything. People would catch his indifference turn to focus when you went on stage. The only thing that bothered him was the invasive questions from people desperate for a gossip story. “Sir, this is the longest relationship she has had, mind telling us your secret?” Or “We’ve heard rumors about her seeing other people, is that true?” He rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. And if these people ask questions when you two are together, he nearly has to cover your mouth every time. You lacked a necessary amount of media training.

Regardless, Toji knew he had hit the jackpot. For once in his life.

[m4iya]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PHOTOS

Hinata's smile is one that’s practically etched into the brain of nearly every person he’s ever interacted with - he’s always wearing the same beaming expression, right? Magazine covers, commercials, and merchandise - even people he didn’t know knew his iconic smile. So when he presents you his high school photo album, you almost find yourself playing ‘Where’s Wally?’ with this supposed permanent smile of his, struggling to find a semblance of it in any picture where he was aware he was having his photo taken. Either he was squinting, distracted, or looking in the wrong direction completely. He wasn’t even laughing, he just looked aloof; lost, even. On the other hand, there were still photos taken from a distance as he played in a match, or as he chatted with some teammates during time-outs, completely unaware of any camera. Looking at those pictures, you could practically hear his laughter resounding in your ears.

Kageyama is the absolute last person you'd expect to know how to pose for a picture - and well, he doesn't know how. Not naturally, at least. Whenever you whip out your phone, asking to take a picture with him, he takes at least a few seconds to stand up straight and think of a way to 'pose'. His limited poses include standing upright, standing upright but to the left or right, or folding his arms. You always reassure him that he doesn’t need to revise a pose every time he takes a photo, and he complains, saying that that’s 'too confusing to understand'. One of the only moments you're able to actually take a photo together without him going through his 'photo prep', is after his team wins a match. He'd sling a confident arm around your shoulder and smile brightly into the camera as if he'd didn't know it was even there.

Kuroo is well aware of how he looks in photos. Whenever you ask to take one together, he knows exactly how to pose, smile, and where to look. Sure he's always taking photos with you, but one look through his camera roll, and most, if not all of his photos are of you and only you. He's the type to buy you a dress and insist that you wear it the next time you both go out, not hiding his intentions to take pictures of you in it. Though, when you do eventually wear it, he’s instead roped into taking a plethora of photos together, mounting your phone to a wall for hands-free shots. He'd lean his forehead against yours, bringing your faces close. The pictures captured your smiles as they transitioned into giggles, but not his sneakily whispered comments that sparked said laughter. As the last photos clicked, you removed your phone from the wall and swiped through the photos as he perched his head on your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "That dress really does suit you. Maybe because I chose it?" You nudge him, coy laughter shielding any sly comment you would’ve shot back.

Goshiki doesn't take many photos of himself, so it really surprises him he sees the album in your phone thats full of pictures you've collected of him since you were both in high school. He'd inspect each and every picture, asking when, where and how you took them - except the photos the two of you snapped together at a cafe after school, or the ones taken discretely in class despite him telling you that your phone could get confiscated. Even though it isn't exactly in his nature to take selfies, he's somehow no stranger when it comes to posing in a picture, throwing up peace signs and whatnot. He'd 'act' like he didn't know what to do, but as soon as his face came into frame of the picture with you beside him, he'd have no trouble coming up with a fitting pose. You'd ask him why he didn't take many photos with his teammates back in high school, and he'd tell you he did - insisting that he had tons. Though, in the photos he showed you, his head was either barely poking out in the background, or it was a team photo taken by the school for articles and whatnot. But if you said anything, you'd risk disturbing the smile on his face as he reminisced, his sweet laughter threading the memories together.

Ushijima is pretty behind when it comes to knowing trends or poses, so his photos look more like passport or ID pictures than selfies; straight face, looking forward and staring directly into the camera. You try to persuade him to change his contact photo to something else, but he sees no use, stating that either way it's still a photo of him. Though, if the two of you do take pictures together, you're usually the one orchestrating it, telling him how to stand and whatnot. After one of his games, two of you were resting together on a couch at home, the back of your head leaning against his outstretched legs as scrolled through game highlights of one of the teams he’d be playing next. His attention was swept away when you called his name, showing him the photos you took earlier that day before his match. He seemed oddly interested, bombarding you with questions about what angle you used, what settings your camera was on what not. Looking up at his concentrated face, your sleeved hands moved to smush his cheeks together, "It's not that complicated," You'd chuckle, "You don't really need to calculate angles for a selfie. It's more like where you feel the vibes are at." He'd raise a brow. "The vibesh?" Letting go of his face, you could barely hold back your laughter at his muffled voice and overly serious interpretation of a pictures' composition - he’d probably pick up on it after a few more photoshoot sessions.

Yamaguchi usually shies away from any sort of selfie, opting to be behind the camera instead. You’d always sigh, commenting that he never takes pictures with you and in an attempt to defend himself, he’d bring up pictures that the two of you took back in high school. You, on the other hand wouldn’t let him take photos of you unless you were knew what was going on; being dressed up and aware of the photo and what angle it was being taken at. And so he would tease you about that. One day, you’d just gotten off work and were absolutely exhausted. Your phone dinged, a message from him showing up in your notifications. ‘Are you free?’ It read. Typing back a response, he immediately answered, ‘We can eat at my place if you want. I’m too tired to go out as well.’ You made quick stop at your apartment to change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable before heading over to his place. He opened the door a few seconds after you knocked, “Are you alright?” He asked. You knew you were exhausted, but you had no idea you’d still looked so disheveled even after washing your face and switching outfits. After the two of you shared the dinner he had whipped up, you slumped onto the couch and he followed soon after, leaning his head onto your shoulder. “What’re you doing?” He asked. You had your camera open, examining your face. You looked like you had been ran over - an absolute mess. Suddenly, his hand slowly took the phone out of your grasp, holding it at a lower angle. He took a couple pictures, prompting you to make a funny face. Clicking on them, the two of you giggled at each other’s expressions. “See? You don’t have to be all dressed up for a picture,” He said, sending the photos to his contact using your phone. “You’re you, you’re not a dress up doll.” You slumped your head onto his, sighing. “You’re telling me that? A picture of you on my phone is like, super rare.” You chuckled. “..Don’t get used to that.” He murmured. You could see the smile on his face as he took his own phone, setting one of the pictures as his lock screen background.

Bokuto's face is plastered all throughout your camera roll. Pictures of the two of you hanging out together, photos he'd send you at practice, and close ups and unflattering angles he'd snap of himself while you weren't paying attention. You've never witnessed him shy away from a camera whether it was an interview or a commercial. Online, he was loud, the eyes of some onlookers being practically glued to him. Though eventually, his energy does drain out, being one of the only times where he simply wants to rest without looking down the lens of a camera. He'd slump down on the couch, sighing dramatically, and that'd be where you'd step in. You'd to him ramble about his day as his voice became drowsier, his sentences becoming nonsensical as they cut off midway, and in time, he'd slowly doze off. His body would rise and fall with each soft breath, murmuring random phrases in his sleep. His once slicked hair that now had strands loosely falling over his forehead, accompanied by his slightly upturned lips - This was something that those news reporters and bloggers would probably never get to see.

Akaashi owns a camera that he uses quite often. Not long after meeting you, his memory card became flooded with pictures of your different outings, your face being the subject of most. After suggesting that the two of you go to a flower garden together, he agreed, taking his camera along with him. However, one thing that he'd overlooked, was that his memory card was full and he'd completely forgotten to buy a new one. Noticing this, you stated that your phone camera worked just fine, and that you'd be the photographer this time around. You captured his smile as it shifted from wry to bright, his lips curving upwards and paving the way for a small dimple on his right cheek - one you had no idea was even there.

other works

[lazycats-stuff]

been thinking of a batbro bimbo reader who isn't yet fully aware of his family's identitys but is a vigilante too. Thinking of him getting flirted on and the other's getting protective. Especially the younger siblings (Ex: Damian)

Oh Damian is going to kill them. Blade out and everything. Also, I think you thought about writing a himbo. Also, I don't know which gif to put so enjoy a storm lol.

Summary: (Y/N) is a bit stupid, but very nice. He is oblivious to a lot of stuff and his siblings are protective of him.

Warnings: (Y/N) is stupid and sweet at the same time, adorable (Y/N), protective everybody, especially Damian.

Bruce often wondered how (Y/N) managed to survive for this long. Looks are often deceiving, he knows that very well. He always expected the unexpected and (Y/N) was certainly something of that sort. You know how you expect big people to be cold and just rude over all?

(Y/N) is sweet beyond belief and Bruce wonders how he survived for so long as a vigilante. But there is another problem too. (Y/N) sometimes has problems seeing when he is being flirted with and overall, sometimes slow with catching up.

What kind of scared Bruce was the fact that (Y/N) still didn't... Kind of... Connect the dots with their identities. Bruce often kept an eye out on (Y/N) during patrol or missions. Always. Everyone also kept an eye on their brother.

They all loved (Y/N) and they all just wanted to make sure that he is okay. He is far too adorable and kind for this world. That is a conclusion that everyone has reached. Even Damian. Damian is the one who is the most protective of him.

(Y/N) found a way to channel his kindness. Bruce helped him set up a few organizations to help the youth on the streets, homeless people in general and one for mental health problems.

Well, more (Y/N) and Tim. (Y/N) is the face of those charities and Tim has agreed to help out behind the scenes. He never minded doing it for his brother and it's for a good cause so he didn't mind to help with the financial stuff.

(Y/N) has tried to do it on his own, but he just hated paperwork. Bruce and Tim sympathized with (Y/N), knowing how paperwork could be shit. Tim loved working with (Y/N). More so than with Bruce. But Bruce will never know it.

(Y/N) is often considered by Gotham City as their baby on social media and he is famous because of it. Well, because of his kindness and other moments that social media would say is iconic. Gotham loved him and (Y/N) would often go in his vigilante suit to see little kids all year round in the hospitals in Gotham and sometimes elsewhere.

(Y/N) loved doing it and loved seeing kids smile. Some were just so beaten down that by being in a hospital and seeing them smile so much made (Y/N)'s day.

Damian is often considered as (Y/N)'s bodyguard on galas. Of course, there are many people who consider (Y/N) handsome. Unfortunately, (Y/N) can't see those advances and that's where Damian has stepped in. Always.

If (Y/N) is going to be in a relationship, it's going to be with someone who looks past his looks. Many who tried to woo him did so because of his looks. Not because of him and personality.

Damian often stepped in, making excuses for (Y/N) as to why he couldn't. And then the man would be met with an icy glare.

Now, the public loved (Y/N) even more when they saw how he treated women. How respectful he is... The female population of Gotham City have lost their minds. There was a viral moment where (Y/N) was seen giving his umbrella to a lady after a heavy rain started. He was soaked afterwards, but at least he did something nice.

There is a plethora of responses from men, but once (Y/N) came out as gay, those men weren't afraid of not getting anymore dates. The women of Gotham were sad, but there was nothing that they could do.

Dick and Jason were also protective of (Y/N), but not to the degree where Damian is. Nowhere near. But did they always keep an eye on him? Yes. That's their brother, how could they not. They loved him, but they knew that the couldn't protect him like Damian does.

Damian is on a whole another level.

Galas are often considered the most stress inducing thing that happens a few times a year. Nobody liked to attend galas in the family, not even Bruce, but they had to due to appearances they had to.

(Y/N) didn't mind it. Now, galas are often the time when Damian was vigilant around (Y/N). Bruce didn't say anything to Damian about being protective. In fact, it made Bruce happy, knowing that he didn't have to be constantly vigilant over (Y/N).

Damian is his second in command when it came to (Y/N)'s protection. Damian is often subtle in the way he is vigilant. Often. He never outright stood next to (Y/N), but he was always close enough to step in.

Always.

As of now, (Y/N) was making his way to the bar to get a drink. Damian watched him from the buffet table. He watched everyone else in the room, seeing if anyone was looking at (Y/N). And he did find someone.

He was looking at (Y/N) with something in his eyes that made Damian pissed. He knew that look very well and it wasn't to talk to (Y/N) about his charities. Damian waited for a moment to see if his suspicions are right.

And when was Damian wrong? Never.

He wanted to scoff at the predictability of these guys. They are really predictable. He watched for a moment more, but when he saw how the man smiled at his brother, it was go time. He swiftly put some food on the plate, (Y/N)'s favorite and quickly went to the bar where the two were.

" Hey (Y/N), here is some food that I know you love. " Damian said, bringing (Y/N)'s attention to himself.

" Oh really? Thanks Damian. "

" No problem and Bruce told me he needs to talk to you. " Damian said and quickly glanced at Bruce who nodded subtly.

" Oh? Well, I will talk to you later then. " (Y/N) said as he turned to his 'suitor' and then took the food that Damian brought and then walked off. The moment that (Y/N) couldn't see them, Damian glares at the man.

" I wouldn't try it if I were you. " Damian said as he glared at the man.

" And what is a kid like you going to do? " The man said and Damian had to smirk at the arrogance.

" I know who you are. I know that your father wants to make a deal with my father. And I can always put a word in about you. And let me tell you, father is very protective of (Y/N) and he is not going to like the fact that you are just trying to sleep with him. "

The man tried to defend himself, but deep down he knew that Damian was spot on.

" Now, I wouldn't really try to flirt with him anymore. Not to mention, there are 3 more brothers that will kick your ass in different ways if you try to. " Damian said as he walked off, trying not to smirk once more.

He can't smirk or (Y/N) will see something. Who said that galas could be boring when you can threaten your brother's suitors? Dick and Jason gave him a thumbs up from a far. Tim and Bruce shook their heads quietly. Damian walked up to (Y/N) and gave him a quick hug.

Nobody messes with (Y/N) Wayne. Nobody.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Fashion History

for your next poem/story (pt. 2/2)

1950s

The 1950s were a time of large cultural and social change, which was reflected in the world of fashion. The Korean War began in 1950, followed by the introduction of the color TV in 1951. And in 1954, the modern civil rights movement began.

As the suburbs became popular, family and domesticity for women became a prominent force in society. Additionally, teenagers became fashion consumers and market leaders for the first time.

Due to technological advances, new fibers such as polyester, triacetate, and spandex are introduced. 

The prominent trend of the time was femininity, as shown by the prominence of Christian Dior's "New Look". Shape was emphasized by full swing skirts or narrow pencil skirts, as well as fitted bodices and a small waistline achieved with the help of petticoats and girdles. Elegant accessories and jewelry such as hats and pearls were popular at the time, and high heels were ubiquitous. Other trends included Peter Pan collars, tapered or capri pants, and the introduction of the bikini. 

1960s

The Beatles led the music and fashion “British Invasion,” influencing teenagers with their Mod aesthetic.

The Civil Rights movement led to the popularity of ethnic and African-inspired garments such as dashikis and caftans.

The 1960s were marked by eclecticism, both in fashion and society. A plethora of styles were fashionable at one time, ranging from space age fashions using vinyl and synthetics, to bold prints, colors, and disposable paper dresses inspired by Pop Art.

Mod fashion appeared on the London scene, with fashion designer Mary Quant as the “high priestess” of the style, and Twiggy as its supermodel.

Boutiques, a 1960s creation, began offering designer ready-to-wear collections, while easy-care fabrics were increasingly used by the general public.

Longer hemlines were dominant with maxi skirts and granny dresses, while hot pants and mini skirts were adopted by the younger market. These shorter hemlines popularized the use of pantyhose for modesty. As the decade progressed, chemise dresses that typified the dominant straight A-line silhouette became popular. Turtleneck blouses and sweaters were common, and sleeves were usually three-quarter length. Sleeveless tops were worn after the mid 1960s.

Jacqueline Kennedy became a major fashion icon, famous for her sophisticated style, pillbox hats, and pearls. Overall, hats in general experienced a decline in use, due to the popularity of high bouffant hairstyles.

Knee high go-go boots were popular, patent was often used, and low-heeled, square-toed shoes were common.

Popular accessories included headbands, bold jewelry, and matching shoes and handbags.

1970s

During the 1970s, the eclecticism of the previous decade continued, and influences from subcultures dominated fashion.

The Vietnam War ended in 1973, and the first Earth Day was celebrated in 1974.

The hippie subculture emphasized environmental awareness and social acceptance, translating into the popularity of natural fibers and earth tones, loose garments, blue jeans, and ethnic influences in dress.

Peasant blouses and skirts and psychedelic prints were popular, as well as historic revival styles.

In the late 1970s, music styles such as glam rock, disco, and punk influenced fashion and resulted in flashy, often shocking styles.

For the most part, clothing was loose and unstructured compared to previous decades. Skirts came in a variety of lengths — mini, midi, or maxi — although the mini and maxi were the most popular.

Unisex styles in clothing became a trend and were perpetuated by Diane Keaton’s character in the 1977 film, Annie Hall.

Trousers and blue jeans were worn by women more than ever before. Designer jeans arrived on the market, resulting in the birth of “licensing” for non-fashion products. Polyester was the other preferred textile for trousers.

1980s

With the rise of new media such as MTV, the 80s fashion landscape began to shift rapidly.

The televised wedding of Prince Charles and Diana Spencer caused a fashion frenzy, with "Lady Di's" elegant hats, tailored suits, and evening dresses making her a global style icon. 

The 1980s were known as the "Me" Generation, with an emphasis on logos and designer labels.

The decade also saw the rise of yuppie (young urban professionals) culture, and the introduction of the fitness craze.

In the world of high fashion, postmodernism and avant-garde fashion were vastly influential. With the introduction of yuppie culture, business attire and "power-dressing" with items like shoulder pads was a popular trend.

In light of the fitness craze, leg warmers, tights, and leotards were widely worn, and women accessorized with big hair, flashy costume jewelry, and bright heels.

In terms of undergarments, Madonna and Jean-Paul Gaultier inspired an underwear-as-outerwear trend alongside the popularity of Calvin Klein.

1990s

The 1990s reflected subcultures such as punk, goth, and grunge in fashion.

Hip-hop music became popular and as a result, urban fashion was popularized.

Unlike previous decades, the 1990s was notable for a more relaxed and casual look, as well as the introduction of technology such as cell-phones and pagers.

With the rise of globalization & technology, the fashion cycle began to speed up. 

1990s style was often considered "anti-fashion,"  with purposefully clashing or contradictory aesthetics.

Black, minimalist styles were popular, as well as vintage and 1970s style.

Many younger people sported crop tops, cargo pants, and blue jeans, and athletic wear in daily life. In terms of shoes, high heels, wedges, sandals, platforms, and sneakers were all widely worn.

More Notes: On Fashion ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with W Magazine (2024)

Jonathan Bailey has traveled the world to promote Wicked, but there was one person he was especially eager to share the film with: his 94-year-old grandmother. She nurtured his love for musical theater and encouraged him to pursue ballet as a child, thus shaping his career in the arts.

So, the day after Wicked came out in the U.K., Bailey hosted a private screening at a local cinema for four generations of his family. While sitting in between his nana (who had painted her nails green for the occasion) and his mom and dad, Bailey became overcome with emotion.

“It’s a miraculous thing to know that what it came down to is having parents who let me go to the local village hall, and a grandparent who let me play, dance around and sing, and be free at such a young age,” Bailey tells W. “If you can catch a passion and just ring-fence it at such a young age, you never know what it can amount to.”

Adapted from the iconic Broadway stage musical, the film, which is set before the events of 1939’s The Wizard of Oz, chronicles the friendship between Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo), the future Wicked Witch of the West, and her classmate Galinda (Ariana Grande), later known as Glinda the Good.

Bailey’s scene-stealing portrayal of Fiyero Tigelaar, the charismatic Crown Prince of Winkie Country, only reaffirms his status as a Hollywood triple threat. In fact, “Dancing Through Life,” the earworm that serves as his character’s introduction at Shiz University, just cracked Billboard’s Hot 100 charts this week. (“That’s amazing. Do I get a certificate? What happens now?” Bailey quips.)

Bailey began rehearsing for Wicked in 2022 while shooting Fellow Travelers, the groundbreaking Showtime limited series that earned the 36-year-old his first Emmy nomination, and the third season of Bridgerton, the smash-hit Netflix romantic drama that made him a household name. Speaking on a video call from London in early December, the British star reveals that he is in the middle of reprising his role as Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, who is expecting his first child with wife Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley).

“There’s such an important relationship with the [Bridgerton] bros that has been developed over the series. Season four is going to be Luke [Thompson] and Yerin [Ha] being absolutely extraordinary, and there’s a whole plethora of new characters coming in,” Bailey says. “It’s so nice to come back, and it’s about celebrating the romance stories we’ve had and digging into the ones that are starting.”

Patience will have to be a virtue for Wicked and Bridgerton fans alike; the second half of the former, which Bailey coyly describes as “rich, bruising and hopeful,” will premiere next November, while the latter will debut in 2026.

How did you think about building your own interpretation of Fiyero?

The starting point was “Dancing Through Life.” He creates chaos around him, like he does in that song, because he’s got to match the chaos that’s going on inside. The challenge that I felt was the trope of a cool caddish prince. He’s deeply unnerved by stillness and adhering to rules and structure. That is probably a sign of someone who’s never really experienced love. When you see someone causing that sort of disturbance, it’s usually because they’ve never felt seen. An organizational psychologist, Adam Grant, sent me a message saying, “It’s a masterful portrayal of superficiality masking depth.” Out of all the things I’ve heard, that is the thing I’m going to get printed on a T-shirt.

The Shiz library scene was inspired by the work of Fred Astaire in Royal Wedding. What did you want to convey in those moments?

Fiyero has to come in and change the physical language and the emotional landscape of that school in one number. His fluidity, ease, and elasticity speak to his ability to maneuver and avoid. He’s quite avoidant. He has these bright, shining moments with everyone but never really allows the other person to land it with him. For those who understand the physical language of Fiyero, there are many Easter eggs and nods to what happens to him later in the story.

Fiyero is at the center of a love triangle between Elphaba and Galinda. What do you think he sees in each of them?

The brilliant thing about the film is that these slightly trivial tropes mask extraordinarily deep and shifting understandings of social experiences. The superficiality, the privilege, and the sense of easy chemistry make sense with Glinda. But I feel like he’s yearning for something more, and, as Elphaba sees, he’s unhappy and depressed. Fiyero and Elphaba can click in terms of the way they sing, dance, and move together. Elphaba has a calming presence on Fiyero and allows him to be himself. It’s a real privilege to meet someone who sees you for who you really are.

Are there any songs from the second Wicked movie you are most excited about?

“No Good Deed”���I cannot wait to see that come together. And “Thank Goodness”—it’s just such an incredibly operatic, Wagnerian opening. We know how brilliant the girls are, and I’m so excited to see the tonal shift that will inevitably happen to get to the end of the story.

You’ve been leveraging the success of projects with massive, global appeal (Bridgerton, Wicked, the next Jurassic World) to return to the theater (like your next role in Richard II).How have you been balancing these big tentpole franchises with projects that feel more niche and intimate?

I always lead with joy, and I’ve never accepted a job cynically. It goes back to this instinct—it feels like romance—where you have butterflies in your stomach and clarity of thought. I go back to the stage because I want to get better—and I want to be the best I can be. The best performances I’ve ever given on screen have been directly after coming off stage, where you hone your craft every single night. It’s brilliant, joyful, academic, and exhausting.

I’ve read more scripts in the last four years than probably in 20 years of working. It’s amazing to get sent scripts that you’re like, “This is absolutely brilliant. It’s not quite right for me, but I wonder if I can help that get made.” I’ve got a producer's hat that’s been popped on a few times in the last year, and I’m sure it’ll be coming out to play soon.

I want to keep working until something like Fellow Travelers isn’t seen as niche. We’re only on this planet for a short time, but if Fellow Travelers can be a mainstream show by the time I’ve finished my innings, I’d be very happy.

The last time Bridgerton viewers saw Anthony and Kate, they were on their way to India to meet with Kate’s family. Now that those characters are married, what are some of the new layers you’ve found in their relationship?

Anthony and Kate are these two planets that have always been in orbit of each other, and they finally come together. But then, what is life beyond [their courtship]? What’s so interesting about Anthony and what I so enjoyed in his season one arc is his relationship with duty and the power that he wielded over Daphne and his family, the isolation that he felt, and the anger that ensues because of [the passing of] his father.

I always said that you want Anthony to smile, and he does with Kate; he’s found his soulmate. In season three, they have that playfulness and, for the first time, they disregard anything that’s going on around them. They were the heart of every bit of drama and complication and, my God, how dramatic it was! Now suddenly, they’re having the time of their life, getting to play games again. They’re having a baby—everything they’ve ever wanted. What’s brilliant is to see how there are elements of yourself that you can’t grow out of. So, maybe, we’ll see hints of Anthony from season one.

Source

[muiitoloko]

Could you write an angsty with happy ending Alan x reader imagine in which reader quotes a line from a movie in an interview and thar is used for a promo for the interview, but of course it’s used out of context to lure people in and Alan sees it and it causes a fight between you guys

Title: Reel Lies, Real Love

Summary: When a viral video threatens to destroy their relationship, Alan and his partner must navigate betrayal, insecurity, and forgiveness to find their way back to each other.

Warnings: Angst

Pairing: Alan Rickman × fem! Reader

Author's Notes: Merry Christmas! 🥰

Also read on Ao3

Alan settled onto the plush couch in his London flat, his iPad perched precariously on his knees. He squinted at the screen, his hazel eyes narrowing in concentration as he navigated the icons. Technology had never been his strong suit, but he was nothing if not determined. His godson had given him a crash course on this "social media" craze, a concept Alan found both fascinating and perplexing. Still, the idea of being able to watch your latest interview from across the Atlantic had motivated him to wrestle with this confounding device.

"Right," he muttered, his baritone voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "Where is this bloody YouTube button?"

After several minutes of poking at random icons, he finally stumbled upon the app. Alan allowed himself a triumphant grin, the corners of his mouth lifting in quiet satisfaction. "Brilliant," he murmured, tapping the icon and watching as the screen flickered to life. "Not bad for an old dog, eh?"

"All right, here we go," he muttered to himself, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he typed your name into the YouTube search bar. A plethora of videos populated the screen almost instantly—clips of interviews, red-carpet appearances, and even behind-the-scenes snippets. Alan couldn’t help but smile; your charm practically radiated through every thumbnail.

He scrolled carefully, his hazel eyes scanning for the most recent interview. Finally, one title jumped out at him, standing apart from the rest. It read:

“[Your Name] Shocks Fans: ‘I Would Never Marry Him!’”

Alan’s heart skipped a beat. The bluntness of the statement hit him like a slap, the words lodging uncomfortably in his chest. For a moment, he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the play button. Logic whispered that it could be a misquote, a clickbait title meant to draw attention. But curiosity—and a flicker of unease—pushed him to tap on it.

The video began with a cheerful introduction from a well-dressed interviewer, and Alan leaned forward slightly, his breath catching when you appeared on screen. You looked radiant, as always, your smile lighting up the room. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride, even as a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach.

The interviewer started with light questions about the film, your co-stars, and your experiences on set. Alan’s lips quirked into a small smile as he listened to your eloquent responses, your humor and intelligence shining through. But then, the conversation took a turn.

Alan’s breath hitched as the video transitioned from light-hearted banter to a pointed question from the interviewer. The screen focused on the interviewer, who leaned in with a conspiratorial smile.

“You’ve been in a relationship with Alan for two years now,” the interviewer said casually, his tone laced with curiosity. “Do you have any plans to marry him?”

Alan’s brow furrowed, his hazel eyes fixed intently on the screen. A flicker of anticipation danced in his chest, quickly snuffed out by the sound of your laughter. The video cut to you, seated comfortably in your chair, a radiant smile lighting up your face. But it wasn’t the smile Alan had grown to adore—it was laughter, unguarded and light, as if the question had caught you off guard.

“Marry him?” you repeated, still laughing. “Oh no, not even if I were crazy. Never.”

The words struck like a blow, his chest tightening as he replayed them in his head. Never. His hooked nose flared as he inhaled sharply, his knuckles whitening as he clutched the iPad. The interview continued, the interviewer chuckling along with you, but Alan didn’t hear the rest.

He set the device down with deliberate care, his hands trembling slightly. The echo of your words reverberated in his mind, each repetition like a twist of the knife. He ran a hand through his silvered hair, his hazel eyes staring at the wall as he tried to make sense of what he’d heard.

“Two years,” he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice thick with disbelief. “Two bloody years.”

He wanted to dismiss it, to tell himself there must have been a misunderstanding. But the way you had laughed, the ease with which you dismissed the very idea of marrying him—it felt too real. It gnawed at insecurities he thought he had buried long ago, whispering that perhaps he was too old, too unworthy of the love you so freely gave on screen but apparently withheld in reality.

Alan stood abruptly, pacing the length of his living room. The plush rug muffled his footsteps, but the turmoil in his chest was deafening. Every laugh, every word in that interview played on repeat in his mind. He picked up his phone, his finger hovering over your contact name before he dropped it back onto the table. Confronting you now would only make him look desperate, wouldn’t it?

The hours dragged by, and Alan finally sank into his armchair, exhaustion overtaking the restless pacing. He stared out the window at the London skyline, the city lights twinkling faintly against the darkening sky. His heart ached with a familiar, dull weight—a longing for clarity, for reassurance, for you.

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, you sat in your hotel room scrolling through social media when you saw the headline:

“[Your Name] Slams Marriage Rumors with Alan Rickman: ‘Not Even If I Were Crazy!’”

Your stomach dropped. Clicking the link, you watched in disbelief as the video unfolded. It was a butchered version of the interview you had done just days ago. Your laughter and the line about “never marrying him” were shown out of context, manipulated to make it appear as if you were speaking about Alan when, in fact, you had been referring to your character’s reluctant relationship with a villainous love interest in the film.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you watched the fabricated exchange. The interviewer’s voice had clearly been re-recorded and spliced into the footage after you had left the studio. Your responses were genuine, but they were answers to entirely different questions, framed in a way that distorted their meaning.

Your hands shook as you dialed Alan’s number, the line ringing endlessly before going to voicemail. “Alan, please, call me back,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have to believe me. That video—it’s not real. They’ve edited it to twist my words. I’d never say something like that about you. Please, just… call me.”

You hung up, your mind racing. Alan was intelligent, discerning—surely, he would realize the video was a sham. But deep down, you knew how much it would have hurt him to see it. The way his self-deprecating humor sometimes masked lingering insecurities. And now, the idea that you’d laughed at the prospect of marrying him…

The hours passed in agonizing silence, your calls going unanswered. You paced the room, anxiety gnawing at your insides. Finally, unable to bear the distance, you booked a flight back to London for the following morning. If Alan wouldn’t answer your calls, you’d confront him in person.

The next morning, you stood outside Alan's door, heart pounding as your knuckles rapped against the heavy wood. It was early, the London air brisk and damp, and you hadn’t slept a wink after your red-eye flight. Every second of silence on the other side of the door stretched into eternity, your mind racing with every possible reaction Alan might have. Finally, the door opened, and there he was, dressed in his usual crisp shirt and slacks, his white hair slightly disheveled but his hazel eyes sharp and guarded.

You smiled, attempting to close the distance and kiss him as you usually did, but Alan turned his head, avoiding your lips entirely. The rejection stung, a cold ache blooming in your chest. He leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

“What do you want?” he asked, his baritone voice low but devoid of its usual warmth.

You blinked, stunned by the bluntness of his tone. “Alan, can I come in?” you asked softly, trying to steady your voice.

He exhaled through his nose, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter with a stiff wave of his hand. “Make it quick,” he muttered. “I’m due on set soon.”

You walked in, the familiar comfort of his flat feeling suddenly foreign. He closed the door behind you and strode into the kitchen without a glance in your direction. The bitterness in his tone cut deep, but you forced yourself to push through it, following him as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He stood with his back to you, every movement deliberate, as if he was purposefully avoiding looking at you.

“Alan,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “That video—it’s not what it looks like. The interview was manipulated. I wasn’t talking about you.”

He didn’t respond, only lifting his mug to his lips and taking a slow sip. His silence was deafening, his refusal to even turn around twisting the knife in your chest.

“I flew all the way from New York to tell you this,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice. “I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t care about you—if I didn’t want to fix this.”

Finally, Alan set the mug down on the counter, his fingers gripping the edge tightly. For a moment, you thought he might turn to face you, but instead, he let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fix it,” he repeated, his baritone voice laced with sarcasm. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. “I spoke to my agent,” you said carefully. “He suggested we make a public statement together. It would clear everything up, and—”

“Ah,” Alan interrupted, his voice cutting through yours like a blade. He finally turned to face you, his hazel eyes cold and distant. “So that’s it, then. This isn’t about me, is it? It’s about you. About salvaging your precious image after this little scandal didn’t go down the way you hoped.”

Your stomach dropped, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. “Alan, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “That’s not what this is about. I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, his hooked nose flaring as his voice rose. “You didn’t come here for me. You came here because you’re worried about your bloody reputation. Don’t pretend this is some grand gesture of love.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “That’s not true,” you said, your voice breaking. “I came here because I love you. Because I wanted to make things right.”

Alan laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and mocking. “Love?” he said, shaking his head. “If this is love, then I want no part of it. You’ve always been a problem, haven’t you? A bloody headache from the start. And for what? You’re not worth it.”

The words struck like a hammer, shattering whatever hope you had left. Your breath hitched, the tears you’d been holding back spilling over as you stared at him, your heart breaking into pieces.

“Alan,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through…”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said coldly, his hazel eyes hard. “And here’s another truth for you: even if that video was a lie, it wouldn’t matter. Because I wouldn’t marry you either.”

You staggered back as if he’d physically struck you, your hand flying to your mouth to stifle a sob. The room felt suffocating, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice. “You don’t mean that,” you said weakly, your voice barely audible.

“I do,” he said firmly, his baritone voice like ice. “And I think it’s time you left.”

For a moment, you could only stand there, staring at him in disbelief as the weight of his cruel words hung in the air. The room felt unbearably small, suffocating, the walls pressing in on you as his hazel eyes—those eyes you once found so full of warmth—now bore into you with cold indifference. Then, something inside you snapped. Anger surged through your veins, igniting like wildfire, burning away the sadness and leaving only fury in its wake.

“An idiot,” you hissed, shoving him hard in the chest. “That’s what you are, Alan. A fucking idiot.”

Alan staggered back slightly, his expression shifting to one of shock and fury. “Don’t touch me,” he barked, his baritone voice sharp enough to cut glass. “I swear to God, if you lay another finger on me, I’ll get a restraining order so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Oh, brilliant,” you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Go ahead, Alan. Get your precious restraining order. Add it to the list of ways you can further tarnish my ‘beautiful reputation.’ You know, the one you think I care so much about.”

Alan’s lips curled into a bitter sneer. “Don’t tempt me,” he growled. “You’ve done a bloody good job of ruining it yourself. What’s next? Another fabricated scandal to boost your career?”

You stepped closer, refusing to back down, your fists clenched at your sides. “That’s rich coming from you,” you snapped. “You think I care about any of this more than I care about you? Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see that video, knowing how it could hurt you? I flew across the fucking ocean to fix this!”

“Fix it?” Alan repeated, his hooked nose flaring as he glared at you. “You didn’t come here to fix anything. You came here to save your own skin, to play the innocent little actress trying to save face. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound raw and harsh. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Alan. You think I’d go through all this trouble just for my image? You’re not as clever as you think you are. If you had half the brains you claim to have, you’d know I’m here because I love you. Because I thought you were worth fighting for.”

Alan took a step forward, his presence looming over you. “You don’t love me,” he said coldly. “You love the idea of me. The actor, the director, the man who can hold his own in your world of lights and cameras. But me? The real me? You’ve never loved that.”

You felt your breath hitch, your anger momentarily faltering as his words struck a nerve. “How dare you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How dare you tell me what I feel? You’re so bloody self-absorbed, so stuck in your own insecurities, you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

“And what’s that?” Alan shot back, his voice rising. “A woman who laughs at the idea of marrying me? Who humiliates me in front of the world? You think I’d ever want to marry someone like you?”

Your hand flew to your chest, as if to shield yourself from the impact of his words. “You bastard,” you said, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and heartbreak. “You’re nothing but a coward, Alan. A scared little man hiding behind his wit and charm, too afraid to admit that he’s just as human as the rest of us.”

Alan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he stepped even closer, his face inches from yours. “Careful,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t want to say something you can’t take back.”

You let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Take back? Oh, don’t worry, Alan. I’ve got nothing to take back. I’ve been nothing but honest with you, but you? You’d rather burn it all down than admit you’re scared of being vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” he barked, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’m not the one who flew across the world for a bloody PR stunt.”

“That’s it,” you snapped, shoving him again, harder this time. “You’re impossible, Alan. You’re so afraid of being hurt, you’d rather destroy everything good in your life before anyone else gets the chance.”

“And you’re a goddamn fool,” he shot back, his voice shaking with rage. “A naïve little girl who thinks love is some fairy tale where everything works out in the end.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice breaking. “You don’t deserve me.”

“And you don’t deserve anyone,” Alan snarled, his hazel eyes blazing. “No wonder every man you’ve ever been with has left you.”

The words hung in the air, a deafening silence following in their wake. You stared at him, your heart shattered into a million pieces, before turning on your heel and walking toward the door.

“Goodbye, Alan,” you said quietly, your voice hollow. “I hope you’re happy with the mess you’ve made.”

You didn’t look back as you slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. But as you walked away, the tears fell harder, and you wondered if you’d ever be able to piece yourself back together.

Alan stood there, staring at the door as it slammed shut, the sound echoing in his empty flat. His chest heaved, his heart pounding against his ribs. His hazel eyes burned, filled with rage and anguish as your parting words replayed in his mind. You still say you love him, you liar. The thought ripped through him, venomous and relentless, eroding what little control he had left.

With a guttural roar, Alan grabbed his coffee cup from the counter and hurled it against the wall. The porcelain shattered on impact, shards scattering across the floor. “Bloody hell!” he cursed, his baritone voice raw and trembling. His fingers raked through his silvered hair, tugging at the roots as he struggled to regain his composure. But the ache in his chest only grew stronger, an unrelenting pressure threatening to crush him.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, his knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the counter. “Calm down, Rickman,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and shaky. “She’s gone. Let her go.”

But as he turned, his hazel eyes landed on your coat, draped carelessly over the back of the armchair. His jaw tightened, his hooked nose flaring in irritation. She can’t even remember her bloody coat, he thought bitterly, the anger bubbling up once more. I don’t want anything from her. Absolutely nothing.

Grabbing the coat with trembling hands, Alan stormed toward the door, determined to rid himself of even this small reminder of you. His strides were long and purposeful as he descended the stairs of his building, his heart hammering with each step. The chill of the London air hit him as he stepped onto the street, but he barely noticed, his hazel eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of you.

It didn’t take long to spot you. You were walking briskly, your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, your shoulders hunched against the cold. Alan’s anger flared again, hot and sharp. She doesn’t even know where she’s going, the idiot.

“[Your Name]!” he called out, his baritone voice cutting through the noise of the street. But you didn’t hear him, your focus fixed straight ahead as you moved toward the crosswalk.

Alan quickened his pace, the coat clutched tightly in his hand. “[Your Name]!” he called again, louder this time, his voice laced with frustration. Still, you didn’t turn around. His heart began to pound for a different reason as he saw you step off the curb, the light still green for oncoming traffic.

“Stop!” he yelled, panic creeping into his voice as his eyes caught the glint of an approaching car. The vehicle sped toward you, its headlights cutting through the early morning gloom. Alan’s breath caught in his throat, his anger dissolving into sheer terror.

“[Your Name]!” he bellowed, his voice breaking as he broke into a sprint. But it was too late.

The car’s tires screeched as the driver slammed on the brakes, but the impact was unavoidable. The sound of metal meeting flesh and bone was sickening, reverberating through the street. You were thrown backward, your body crumpling onto the pavement like a discarded doll.

“No!” Alan’s scream tore from his throat as he reached you, dropping to his knees beside your lifeless form. His hands trembled as they hovered over you, afraid to touch, to confirm the worst. Your eyes were closed, your face pale, and blood pooled beneath your head, staining the asphalt.

“[Your Name],” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “No, no, no. Please, God, no.”

His hazel eyes searched your face desperately, looking for any sign of life. He pressed his fingers to your neck, his own pulse pounding in his ears as he prayed for even the faintest flutter beneath his touch. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Don’t you dare leave me. Not like this.”

The driver of the car had gotten out, shouting frantically for help, but Alan barely registered the commotion around him. His world had narrowed to the space between the two of you, his heart shattering as he cradled your head in his hands.

“Wake up,” he begged, his baritone voice cracking. “Please, [Your Name]. I can’t… I can’t do this without you. I’m sorry. I’m so bloody sorry.”

Tears streamed down his face as he leaned over you, his hooked nose brushing against your temple. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ve always loved you. And I’d marry you in a heartbeat, you stubborn, infuriating woman. Just… just come back to me. Please.”

The sound of sirens grew louder in the distance, but Alan barely heard them. His hands trembled as he stroked your hair, his tears falling onto your face as he whispered your name over and over like a prayer.

And as the paramedics descended upon the scene, Alan clung to you, refusing to let go, his heart breaking with every passing second of silence.

Alan sat hunched in the sterile hospital waiting room, his face pale and drawn, his hands gripping your coat like it was a lifeline. The fabric was soft and smelled faintly of you—lavender and the subtle spice of your perfume—a cruel reminder of the argument that had sent you storming out in the first place. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the tick of the clock on the wall amplifying the deafening silence. His hazel eyes, rimmed red, flicked anxiously to the hallway every time a nurse or doctor passed, his breath hitching with hope, only for it to deflate when they didn’t approach him.

Beside him sat Sarah, your agent, her usually sharp, polished demeanor softened by worry. She glanced at Alan, who looked like a man on the brink of collapse. His fingers were white with the force of his grip on your coat, and his silvered hair fell messily over his forehead.

“Alan,” Sarah began gently, leaning toward him. “You’ve been sitting like this for hours. You need to—”

“I need to wait,” Alan interrupted, his baritone voice raw and thick with emotion. “I need to be here when they tell me something. Anything.”

Sarah sighed, her eyes darting toward the hallway. “She’s strong, Alan. She’ll pull through.”

But Alan shook his head, his jaw tight. “This is my fault,” he said, his voice breaking. “If I hadn’t been such a goddamn idiot, she wouldn’t have been out there. She wouldn’t have—” His words faltered, his hands shaking as he buried his face in your coat. “It’s because of me. All of it.”

“Alan—” Sarah started, but he cut her off, his voice rising, trembling with anguish.

“I fought with her over that bloody interview,” he admitted, his hazel eyes glassy as he lifted his head to meet Sarah’s gaze. “The one where she supposedly laughed about marrying me. I saw it, and I—I didn’t even give her a chance to explain. I lashed out like a fool. So what if she didn’t want to marry me? She wouldn’t want to marry a fucking idiot like me either, would she?” His laugh was bitter, hollow. “I drove her away, Sarah. And now she’s—” He couldn’t finish the sentence, his voice breaking into a harsh whisper.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s enough,” she snapped, her tone cutting through his self-loathing like a whip. “You think wallowing in guilt is going to help her? Grow the hell up, Alan. She loves you, you idiot. She wouldn’t have flown across the goddamn ocean to fix things if she didn’t.”

Alan stared at her, stunned into silence. But before he could respond, Sarah’s phone buzzed on the chair beside her. She snatched it up, her expression shifting as she read the screen. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she muttered, her tone laced with venom.

“What?” Alan asked hoarsely, his gaze locked on her.

Sarah stood, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floor as she paced. “I got access to the real footage of her interview earlier today. The one those bastards butchered to make it look like she was talking about you.” She turned, her hazel eyes blazing with anger. “You want to see how wrong you’ve been, Alan?”

Without waiting for a response, she pulled up the video and handed her phone to him. Alan’s fingers trembled as he took it, his heart pounding as the video began to play. There you were, sitting gracefully in your chair, the radiant smile on your face one he knew so well. The interviewer’s voice was calm, asking about the romantic dynamics of your character in the film.

“Marry him?” you had repeated with a laugh, referring to the villainous character in the movie. “Oh no, not even if I were crazy. Never.”

Alan’s breath hitched as the context became clear. You weren’t talking about him at all. The manipulated video had spliced your words with a fabricated question to create a scandal where there was none. The guilt that had been gnawing at him now felt like a vice tightening around his chest.

“It’s not real,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “She wasn’t talking about me.”

“No, she bloody wasn’t,” Sarah snapped, snatching her phone back. “But you didn’t think to ask her, did you? You just assumed the worst and tore into her like an insecure, selfish prick.”

Alan flinched at her words but didn’t argue. She was right. He had been a selfish prick. The realization hit him like a freight train, and his knees buckled as he sank back into the chair. He buried his face in his hands, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“What do I do now?” he murmured, his voice muffled and broken. “How do I fix this?”

Sarah’s gaze softened, but her tone remained firm. “You start by being there when she wakes up. You apologize, and I mean really apologize, Alan. None of that clever, self-deprecating crap you like to hide behind. You tell her the truth—about everything. And for God’s sake, stop sabotaging yourself.”

Alan nodded slowly, his hands still trembling. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on him, but beneath it was a glimmer of hope. If he could just make it right, if you would let him, he’d do whatever it took.

For now, though, all he could do was wait—and pray that when you woke up, you’d still want to hear him out.

The sound of footsteps snapped both their heads toward the hallway, and a doctor in scrubs appeared, his face calm but serious. Alan and Sarah bolted to their feet, the tension between them palpable as they moved to meet the man.

“How is she?” Alan asked, his baritone voice rough with worry.

The doctor gave a reassuring smile. “She’s stable. She has a few broken ribs and a mild concussion, but there’s no permanent damage. She’s under strong painkillers right now and likely won’t wake up until tomorrow.”

Alan exhaled sharply, the relief almost knocking him off his feet. He slumped back into the chair, his head falling into his hands as the weight of his fear slowly began to lift. “Thank God,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. “She’s tough, Alan. She’ll be fine.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Alan said firmly, his voice brooking no argument as he straightened in his chair.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Are you sure? Don’t you have filming for Gambit tomorrow?”

Alan’s hazel eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation flaring in them. “To hell with filming,” he snapped, his hooked nose flaring slightly. “She’s more important.”

Sarah blinked in surprise before letting out a small sigh. “Fine. But I’ll call your agent. Someone has to smooth things over.”

Alan waved her off, his attention already shifting back to the door leading to your room. “Do whatever you like,” he muttered, his focus solely on you.

Sarah shook her head, muttering something about stubborn men as she left. Alan didn’t care. All that mattered was staying by your side.

The hours dragged on, the sterile hospital room quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Alan sat in the uncomfortable chair beside your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours. The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. Balloons and roses from friends filled the small space, their cheerful colors stark against the clinical white walls.

He hadn’t moved all night, his hazel eyes fixed on your face, searching for any sign of movement. The steady rise and fall of your chest was the only thing keeping him sane.

When you finally stirred, it was almost 2 PM. Alan straightened in his chair, his heart leaping as your eyes fluttered open. For a moment, you blinked groggily, your gaze unfocused as you adjusted to the light. Then your eyes found his, and he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“Who… who are you?” you asked weakly, your voice hoarse but teasingly innocent.

Alan’s heart stopped. His face paled, his hazel eyes widening in panic. “What?” he croaked, his baritone voice trembling. “You—you don’t recognize me?”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, a slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips. “Relax, Alan,” you rasped. “Of course I know who you are. How could I forget a man who growls my name like he’s narrating a bloody BBC documentary?”

The relief that washed over Alan was almost overwhelming. He let out a shaky laugh, his hand covering his face as he shook his head. “You absolute minx,” he muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection. “Don’t scare me like that.”

The teasing smile on your lips faded slightly as you shifted, trying to sit up. Alan’s hands were on you immediately, firm but gentle, pressing you back down against the hospital bed.

“Stop,” he said, his baritone voice both commanding and soft. “You’re not going anywhere. Just calm down.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the ache radiating through your body. “Alan, I’m fine,” you protested weakly, your voice still hoarse. “I can—”

“You can stay put,” he interrupted, his hazel eyes narrowing. “For once, listen to me. You need to rest.”

Your expression softened, and you gave a small nod, though the worry in his eyes made your chest tighten. “What happened?” you asked quietly, your fingers brushing against his where they rested on your arm. “I remember fighting with you, then going out into the street, and… nothing after that.”

Alan inhaled sharply, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he glanced away for a moment, as if to steady himself. When he met your gaze again, his hazel eyes were filled with guilt and pain. “You were hit by a car,” he said, his voice low but steady. “After you left my apartment.”

You blinked at him, processing his words, before a faint, teasing smile tugged at your lips. “A car?” you said lightly. “Are you sure it wasn’t a train? Because it bloody feels like it.”

Alan’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening. “Don’t joke about that,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “Do you have any idea how close I came to losing you?”

The sincerity in his words and the tremor in his voice made your teasing demeanor fade. You reached for his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice earnest. “I didn’t mean to make light of it. I just… didn’t want to see you upset.”

Alan exhaled slowly, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize for that,” he said. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. For everything.”

You frowned slightly, trying to sit up again despite his earlier protests. “Alan—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Let me finish.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the bed as he held your hand tightly. “I was an idiot. No, worse—I was a selfish, insecure prat. I saw that interview and—well, I let my own pain blind me. Instead of listening to you or even giving you a chance to explain, I lashed out. Like a bloody child.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he shook his head, stopping you. “And then Sarah showed me the real footage,” he continued, his hazel eyes filled with self-loathing. “It was all fake. The entire thing was manipulated to make it look like you were talking about me. But you weren’t. You never were.”

His voice cracked slightly, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I should have believed you,” he said, his tone raw. “But instead, I hurt you. I wanted to hurt you because I felt humiliated, and that’s… unforgivable.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you shook your head, your voice trembling. “Alan, it’s not unforgivable. I said things too—things I didn’t mean. I was angry, and—”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, his baritone voice softening. “Whatever you said, I deserved it. All of it. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing gently along the line of his jaw. “Don’t say that,” you whispered. “Don’t you dare say that. I love you, Alan. And yes, you can be a stubborn idiot sometimes, but so can I. We’re human.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly before opening to meet yours. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“And you’re too dramatic,” you teased gently, a soft smile playing on your lips. “But that’s why we work.”

A faint laugh escaped him, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “God help me, I do love you,” he said, his hazel eyes shining with both amusement and adoration.

You smiled, your hand slipping down to rest over his. “Good,” you replied, your voice soft. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

Alan’s lips twitched into a small, self-deprecating smile as he leaned closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, his baritone voice warm and steady.

“And for the record,” you added, your smile turning mischievous, “I would marry you. Even if you’re a stubborn idiot.”

Alan chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. “Careful,” he said, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I might hold you to that too.”