#so people are totally allowed to point out stuff like this to me!!

[daydadahlias]

i felt so mean pointing that out but i didn't want you just not knowing i'm sorry

no, it's not mean at all!! u dont need to apologize!

u guys are absolutely 100% allowed to point out continuity errors or grammar mistakes or formatting stuff if you notice it!! I actively encourage that you do; i will never be offended by it!! at the end of the day, i really am just one crackass college student writing gay fanfic for fun and stuff slips by my self-editing radar super easily!!

that's the beauty of sharing a fic in real time w/ a real community bc u guys do genuinely have a say in things and I can hear you when you talk !! i listen <3

[anexperimentallife]

Project 2025 would ban anything the far right considers pornography. The far right considers anything queer-positive to be pornography, and they WILL encode that into law if given just a TINY bit more power.

Have queer fanfic (or trad published literature) or pics of your transition, or of two men kissing, saved to your hard drive? If the GOP get their way, you'd be guilty of possession of pornography. Did you share any of it? You'd be guilty of distribution of pornography. Have a sweet coming of age story with a queer protagonist? That'd be child pornography.

Even now, states are trying to make it a crime to be openly queer in public (by, among other things, classifying dressing as the "wrong gender" anyplace kids might see as a sex crime against children). Oh, and Florida tried (and thankfully failed) to impose the death penalty for the above.

This is just one example of the horrors awaiting us if the project comes to fruition.

And the far right is already screaming that any adult who mentions around kids that queer people exist is "grooming" children. Wear your Pride shirt past a playground? You're now a child groomer. Think they won't put that into law if allowed? You're naive.

The GOP currently controls the Supreme Court (which is how they overturned Roe v. Wade) and has a majority in one branch of congress. Imagine what will happen nationwide with the GOP controlling every branch of government, including supermajoroties in both houses of Congress.

Oh, and top GOP officials have also announced their desire to NUKE Gaza, so don't come at me with, "but I can't vote blue because Biden..." Or tell me how you think Gaza would somehow be better off with Trump and the GOP.

In France, the left and center joined together--even though they disagree vehemently on many issues (get two leftists together and they'll have three positions on any issue)--to stop the far right from totally taking over, because the one thing they ALL agree on is that fascists dictatorships are BAD.

Much the same with the UK finally kicking out their own neo-fascist party, the Torries, to install 400 Labour MPs. Not everyone loves Labour's policies, but virtually everyone with a brain cell recognizes that the Torries are fascists, and that FASCISM BAD.

"Every election, they tell us this is the most important election if our lives!" Yeah, because each election over the past several decades has been more important than the one before, until we are now at a tipping point between remaining a fucked up oligarchy with SOME resemblance to freedom, and an outright neo-fascist military dictatorship.

Trump has literally stated publicly his intent to criminalize dissent, use US armed forces against protesters (Kent State, but multiply it by thousands), purge all agencies and stuff them with those personally loyal to him, and use the DOJ to go after anyone he perceives as a threat to his political power, among other things.

And remember the things he did in office, like pulling the teeth of federal workplace protections for queer folks (which Biden reatored).

I don't care if you don't like Biden or Harris. Neither do I. But the alternative is Trump, and anyone telling you not to vote in 2024, or to vote third party, is rooting for Trump, and for Project 2025. Anyone telling you not to vote does not give one single solitary flying fuck about vulnerable populations in the US or anywhere else in the world.

"You're just being an alarmist!" Right. Like I was being alarmist when I predicted the failed Jan 6 coup attempt. Like I was being alarmist when I said the GOP would try to use control over SCOTUS to overturn Roe v. Wade.

Fucking vote.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

[vyglitchcraft]

Can you do head cannons on how Bihan, Kuai Liang and Smoke would be jealous when someone (like johnny) flirts with their S/O?

Jealousy In The Lin Kuei (MK1)

Bi-Han, Tomas Vrbada, Kuai Liang jealousy headcanons

Kuai Liang

He hides it and he hides it well

For someone with fire powers, Kuai is surprisingly chill although he is blowing up inside.

He is furious, pure rage not because Johnny would steal you away, he knows Johnny isn't your type but its the fact that Johnny is making you uncomfortable or you're gonna be influenced by his actions and act just like him. Well that's how Kuai convinced himself

It's totally not because he's jealous or anything, right? He isn't like his brother, he doesn't get jealous

At the end of the day he voices his concerns to you in a mostly civilized manner although you can hear the jealousy in his voice, you can tell he's almost at his breaking point.

Bi-Han tried to convince him to act the same way he does but Kuai refused

He still stares at Johnny every once and a while

Bi-Han

Straight up opposite, the man is screaming at you or growling to be more accurate. He hates it

Johnny is NOT allowed in the Lin Kuei temple ANYMORE. He swears that if Johnny ever comes back, he'll kill that bitch

Liu Kang, Smoke, and Kenshi are holding this man back every time you and Johnny interact

Liu had to step in to ironically cool him down, one time he had to wrap his twin dragons around Bi-Han just so he wouldn't do some dangerous shit or start some stuff

You tried to convince him that everything is fine and that you have no interest in anyone besides him. It calmed hin down...a bit

Johnny is making this worse by teasing him

He got sucker punched with an ice covered fist

For the next week or two, Bi-Han is always holding onto your waist every time you two go in public or wherever there's people around

Tomas Vrbada

The most sane out of the bunch

He knows he's jealous, he knows he should talk about it with you but he thinks you're doing this on purpose so he won't react much physically atleast in anger

He won't attack anyone (as far as you know)

Would absolutely spoil you in front of Johnny just to get back at him

Not in the "this bitch is mine, stay away" way that Bi-Han is but more "give up, no one would treat them better than me" way

Acts all sweet and romantic but gives Johnny some side eyes just to see his reaction

When you ask him if something is wrong, he'll deny everything. Blames it on the fact that he misses you every time he goes on missions

[pollyanna-nana]

I think it’s so interesting that Thistle sealed the Winged Lion away because it’s undoubtedly the reason why he was able to keep the dungeon going for 1000 years. And the thing is I don’t think we really know WHY he sealed it away, and he might not either!

He grows distrustful of the demon, like we see here, and at some point after this (and having more of his desires eaten, which we can tell by the WL’s increased size…) he seals it away. And knowing that he’s totally willing to do things like stuff his own grand nephew in a doll for going against him, it’s not like doing something like that is against his character. But, still. The fact that he just so happened to stumble upon the action that would allow him to prolong the kingdom’s existence as part of the dungeon is… interesting. Hell, even the Winged Lion is surprised that Thistle apparently did this without knowing that the demon ate desires:

This is just a hunch, but before taking Delgal into the dungeon and smashing the statue he talks about investigating the ruins a lot. And we know he does a lot of research, too. Could it be that he actually stumbled across the truth of the demon, but had the desire to do anything actionable with that knowledge nibbled out of him and forgotten about? But somehow, still had the overwhelming feeling of distrust in what the demon was saying?

He knows the Winged Lion lies and manipulates people, and yet he lacks the willingness— or perhaps, the capacity— to reflect that back on his own behavior. It’s fascinating, and makes me wonder how long he would’ve lasted if not for sealing it away. It could’ve been simply the same kind of lashing out we see him do towards the people he distrusts that serendipitously turned out to be the right move in this circumstance, or it could’ve been something more. Honestly I’m not even really sure what I think, I’d be interested in hearing other’s interpretations!

[imnameimswrld]

ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ¹⁶ ׄ ⑅ CL16 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ alex's twin sister has had the hots for a certain blue eyed ferarri driver, and it's finally time to stake her claim on him.

— PAIRING ੭ charles x albon!reader.

— FILE ੭ social media au.

— WARNINGS ੭ language.

— FACE CLAIM ੭ tontawan tantivejakul.

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

alex_albon & yn_albon • 1 hr.

seen by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 988 335 others

lilymhe replied to alex_albon story !

stop being mean to ur sister alexander.

landonorris replied to alex_albon story !

oh, so that's how it is ? golfing without me now ? okay. cool.

pierregasly relied to your story !

wooaahh, what's with the heart there girl ? trying to steal my man or something ?

get in line gasly, this boy is mine.

user replied to your story !

THE HEART MISS MA'AM !!?!?!?

THE BETTER TWIN

so golfing was fun guys !

we should totes do it again sometimes 😄

STUPID STINKY COPY & PASTE

why ?

so you can just stand there like a flag pole and flirt with charles the whole time ?

THE BETTER TWIN

exactly ! 😁

LILY MOMMY

AND SHE LOOKED DAMN HOT DOIN' IT TOO.

STUPID STINKY COPY & PASTE

i-

it's always 2 against 1 here.

LILY MOMMY

you'll get used to it hun 💋

THE BETTER TWIN

eewwww no being lovey dovey in the gc allowed.

brb guys, gonna go text my man's

STUPID STINKY COPY & PASTE

HE IS NOT UR-

oh forget it, ur hopeless.

FUTURE BF

hey y/n !

it's charles here, lily sent me ur number I hope that's cool with you ?

HIS FUTURE GF

hey charles !

yes ofc omg 😊

FUTURE BF

I think I grabbed ur golf set by accident haha 😅

HIS FUTURE GF

oh no problem !

you can give it back tonight at 8pm, at reagan's diner, and wearing ur finest suit because it is a 3 star restaurant.

FUTURE BF

I...

...uhm....

...huh ?

are u... asking me out ?

HIS FUTURE GF

did I stuttter, charles ?

no ?

so 8pm, sharp. those are my favourite golf clubs that i never use, so i'd like them back.

are we clear ?

FUTURE BF.

yes ma'am.

charles_leclerc & ynusername added to their story ! • 2hr

seen by pierregasly, alex_albon, and 1 224 353 others

alex_albon replied to charles_leclerc story !

WHAT

CHARLES

ARE. U. INSANE.

SHE'S CRAZY !?

but she's miiiinnnneeee 😁

maxverstappen1 replied to charles_leclerc story !

so, what did you do ? huh ?

because how does a total dope like urself, bag a 20 like yn ?

ahh, come on max :\

lilymhe replied to your story !

YAAASSSS QUUEEENNN

GET UR MANS

YOU KNOW IT 😝

user replied to your story !

my wife... had been stolen from me....

user replied to your story !

NO COME BACK TO ME YN 😭

charles_leclerc replied to your story !

how am I going to get people to believe that u wanted me first ?

u won't 🤭

yn_albon

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, and 1 332 454 others

yn_albon suck on ur zero points alexander.

View all comments

logansargeant OUCH.

▹ yn_albon not u logs u know i love ya !

[ liked by logansargeant ]

lilymhe as the girlfriend I shouldn't click a like on this post but...

▹ alex_albon but ? BUT !?

▹ yn_albon love ya too lils baby 🎀

maxverstappen1 the real mic drop is alex thinking that YN ALBON couldn't pull a kid like charles.

▹ charles_leclerc I want to take offense but I can't, because ur very much right.

▹ user HOL' ON- alex thought YN MOTHER ALBON couldn't pull any man of her choosing !? 😭

▹ yn_albon aw, thanks maxie !

alex_albon just say u all hate me and call it a day.

▹ yn_albon quit being dramatic lex and answer mum's ft before she beats ur ass with the wooden spoon again.

user so no one's gonna talk abt slide 3 ? NO ONE !? HELLO !? 😭

♡. ♡. ♡.

imnameimswrld OOHOOO BACK AGAIN ??? hiii lovelies, I hope you're all doing well ! college is trying so hard to kick my ass but i am hanging in there (just barely lol)... but I hope you enjoyed this one, I'm switching up the look of my stuff coz I hate the old look :)

[openphrase123]

actually you know what. i'm thinking about body craft and like. how it's such a goofy and magical thing to throw into a setting but like. i'm thinking of the implications

like ka bue strictly does not allow it. to a terrifying extent. and the first kneejerk instinct is to go "oh so ka bue is bigoted against trans people" but then odile's like "what? no. look at the king. we don't allow body craft cause it's dangerous" and then slyly changes the topic to make herself look a little more mysterious

and then i'm thinking like. yeah. is body craft SAFE in vaugarde? i suppose if you mess something up you can craft it back in the right shape. but even so recently as when isabeau changed, it seemed like there was not a true standard for teaching people who were not craft-focused how to do it. cause it seems like you have to do it yourself??

you have a bunch of people doing DIY magical surgeries on themselves - overseen by religious figures but still, these are amateurs - do people mess up? do people have body craft trauma? if you craft on yourself enough does it have any adverse body effects? culturally it seems like sometimes people just Leave and disappear into a House for a while and come back Changed. and it's culturally rude to point this out or ask what they were like before. what's THAT like, socially

and then mirabelle comes in saying there are new advancements in body craft that let you be Changed in a few months and EXCUSE ME? all of vaugarde is going around doing experimental body morphing magic on themselves and they just found out how to do it QUICKER? no wonder ka bue is worried. vaugarde is about to be an entire country of shapeshifters

like what if there's an advancement that makes body craft instant. obviously cool as hell but what the FUCK are the political and social implications of that. is there anything vaugardians learn to change and go "mm no that's too far" or is it all totally fair game.

also unlike a lot of magical fantasy settings, disabled people DO exist in vaugarde. how does that intertwine with body craft? it doesn't seem like they can craft a new eye onto siffrin. there are people missing limbs and in chairs. there's a blind guy. i would not WANT this stuff to be magic-ed away but i'm so SO curious how it fits in with the "you can change whatever you want about your body forever" setting

[bilesproblems]

Just in case any baby mspec lesbians are here, that might still be unlearning the validity bullshit and drawing lines in "acceptable" vs "unacceptable" lesbian identities:

You are not gonna be one of the good ones. Even if you're one of the ones who isn't attracted to men at all, the exclusionists will never accept your mspec identity because it goes against their hatred. The transmasc bigender lesboy who's primarily a guy but still feels like a lesbian will validate your identity and affirm your simultaneous lesbianism and mspec attraction. Even if you're a SAM user so clearly you're experiencing 2 distinct identities, exclusionists will decide on a whim that SAM users can't be lesbians and they'll demand you leave the community. The omni lesbian who's got a heavy preference for women and so calls themself a lesbian will validate your distinct experiences as two different things, deserving of having both labels.

You have to learn to give these people the same acceptance. They are your community. They are the people that will listen to you when you explain how you're simultaneously mspec and a lesbian, and they're the ones who will validate your identity. You need to unlearn the things exclusionists say. You need to unlearn "nonmen loving nonmen" as the One True Definition of Lesbian. It will take a little bit, I know. It's an adjustment. But if you push away the community you have, then you'll end up alone. The people who would have accepted your identity don't want to associate with you because you invalidated them. The people who most of your beliefs align with hate your identity. So please, don't push away the community. Take time to learn it, accept it, and be part of it. Ask questions if you want to, in good faith. If you have to, make up an explanation like exclusionists do, but instead of something bad faith, make up something you'd accept (I did this with binary trans man lesboys when I was still attached to nmlnm, because I was thinking about orchid aces and how despite not fitting a definition they're still a part of the asexual community because their unique experience makes them feel more like an asexual than an allosexual, and I realized that would totally apply to a lot of binary trans man lesboys). Whatever it takes to accept the rest of your community because if you reject it, you're aligning yourself with people who hate you.

I learned this from experience. I wanted to be one of the good ones for a hot minute. I was against pan lesbians despite being a bi lesbian because I hadn't even thought of split attraction and I thought "well bi is compatible with being a lesbian because 2+ genders and nmlnm don't contradict but pan lesbian isn't because all genders and nmlnm do." I was resistant to non-SAM mspec lesbians that liked men. I was resistant to lesboys. But thankfully I held my tongue long enough to hear them talk about their history, their experiences, and point out how genderqueerness and multigenderism would very obviously allow men to be lesbians (before I had my epiphany about binary trans man lesboys). I am forever grateful that I didn't voice my shitty baby bi lesbian opinions and immediately push away the community that accepted me as a lesbian, as a biromantic, as a term collector, and as all of me. I got the chance to grow as a person.

So even if none of this stuff makes a lot of sense to you yet, I promise you will get it in time. Do not try to be one of the good ones. You'll never be accepted by the people you're trying to appeal to. The people who will accept your explanations, will also accept the rest of the community and their explanations. You don't have to other anyone to be accepted by the people who are willing to accept you.

[hg-aneh]

Yo, I don't know if you know this but your work is being posted on Pinterest

I sort of knew but never really cared about it until now-?

-lots of angry feed up whining below... and a bit of a breakdown-

Just a few hours ago I saw the comments on some of them and holy shit tiktok children are some of the most braindead individuals i have ever seen

I'm fine with reposts, and if I wasn't, I know I wouldn't be able to stop them

What's pissing me off rn is that my stuff is getting attention from *that* crowd, the booger eating snot nosed mocosos de mierda who are so privileged their main problems are "what's skrimblo skromblo doing now? omg is it problematic??? omg theyre like so evil 💀💀"

I- they're still fucking going with the Crowriel thing- How cool, how fun, totally not making me want to disappear again bc of all the trauma from that particular mess, nope, not at all

And the angel crowley x demon crowley thing- i swear to fucking god i- they're so dumb- they're so stupid- how is it incest you- they're the same person🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉

I even saw some little shit saying "omg i used to like that artist until i found out they draw nsfw" ... WHAT IS HAPPENIGNJDNGKDBG??????¿?¿¿????¿

I swear I'm going insane, I wish I could take my shit away from those people, they're so-??????

Like I'm legit about to enter another joker era, I can't believe this is what fandom spaces are now, what is wrong with people

Sorry I'm using this as a vent post or whatever but honestly I'm tired of being subservient when it comes to these fucking people, at one point a bitch has gotta explode

"Why do you care so much about what ppl say abt you online"

Because I have Seen what happens when you shut up about it. You either address it indirectly or become tiktoklovr103892's punching bag, there's no in between. Each second of silence is an admission of guilt for these motherfuckers

And I know that at the end of the day it doesn't matter but bro just allow me to be emotional over having an online space where I can have fun and take a break from life, be riddled with people who I've seen talking like they're praying for my downfall

Seriously what the fuck

What. the fuck.

.

Now if you'll excuse me

[olomaya]

Shhh!! It's a Library (mod)

27 Sept Update: Found a better shushing sound so I replaced with that. Also added ITUNs for the non computer interactions. Thanks to @cs2te for the Brazilian Portuguese translation! Redownload (if you want these updates) at the link below.

(Note: This mod uses the Ticket Machine animations for the kiosk. If you don't have it, you can download it here. Honestly, it's not that important and without it, your Sim will just stand in front of the machine for a second, that's it)

I'm officially in my Streets era. I'm building out all the community lots in my town so you're going to be seeing a lot of community/town related stuff from me for the next few months. My Sims are trying to be outside!

First up! This is a small library mod that allows you to search for books at the library using this gorgeous kiosk object from @aroundthesims. If the book is in the library, it tells you where they are by panning the camera to the bookshelf that has the book and putting a blue outline around it for 10 Sim minutes. Pretty simple. 

Features:

Browse Catalog… pulls up all books in the library

Search by… Category | Title | Author - pulls up any book that matches your search entry

Request a Book to Order -  allows you to add more books to the library. 

You can only order the types of books that are allowed in community libraries so no books that are destroyed after you finish reading them (e.g. recipes, song compositions) and no academic textbooks.

You can order written books, including articles, as well as books from other worlds (e.g. Shang Simla, etc) though for the latter, there is a §35 “overseas shipping cost” added to order these books. 

Once you order a book, the mod will check whether the library has enough money to purchase it and then place the order. 

Ordered books are added to the library at 8am the next day and you’ll receive a notification that the books have been added.

Library Funding

In order to pay for the books ordered, library kiosks have a budget. Every kiosk, upon creation, comes with a §250 budget.

The library budget is the total amount of funds in all kiosks on the lot. Costs are deducted from individual kiosks even if that specific kiosk doesn't have enough money for the book so long as the library budget has enough money.

Support your Local Library

Sims can donate books (up to 3 books at a time) to the library using the book donation bin. The bin must be placed on the library lot (either outside or inside) and you need to have books in your inventory. Your Sim will get 500 Lifetime Happiness points for every book donated. (this is related to another mod that I’m working on. More on that at a later date!)

There is also a computer interaction that lets you donate money to the library. Sims that donate §2500 or more will get a 4-hour charitable moodlet. Donations are added to the library budget.

Finally, Bookworms and Proper Sims can shush other Sims at the library. Once shushed, all Sims in the same room doing social interactions or playing music instruments will stop. (You'll find, like in real life, people quickly go back to doing what they're doing so it's kind of useless but it was a low lift so I kept it in). If someone can think of a good "shushing" sound from the game, let me know!

Credits/Thanks: Both credit and huge thanks go to @aroundthesims for creating this beautiful library set and the kiosk which I used as the main object. I did recategorize it to Misc Electronics instead of Sculptures. If you already have it in your game, you may need to remove it or you can just change the script to “Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.olomaya.LibraryStuff.Kiosk”.  The donation bin is from Sketchfab created by TheLatestShit (that’s their name, thank you TLS!) and can be found in Misc Storage.

Read through everything below the cut before downloading please! Important instructions below!

Important things to note:

The kiosk must be placed on a counter. If it’s not, your sim will reset because they can only interact with it if it’s on a counter. If you are having issues with resetting, place it on an EA-made counter to confirm it’s not this issue first before you reach out for support. You can use OSMP counters provided they are cloned from a counter and place the kiosk on there and put it wherever you want (like I’ve done in my photo. the kiosk is actually on an OSMP counter, not the white table).

Pulling up the entire library catalog, depending on how many books you have on the lot, can take a few (or several) seconds. Or maybe it won’t, I play on a brick laptop so it does for me

Keyword searches are case sensitive so “raymundo” yields no results, but “Raymundo” will bring up the 85 copies of that 🤬 book that your library probably has

The search will only check books that are in bookshelves, it will ignore library books that have been taken out of the bookshelf and are being read or lying around.

Book requests and financial donations can only be made at public libraries and not privately-owned libraries. So if a Sim in your town owns the lot, these options won’t come up (it should be the owners’ responsibility to buy books). You can still donate books though.

You can have multiple kiosks on the lot. If you delete a kiosk, its funds (if it has any) will be transferred to any of the other kiosks on the lot so you don’t lose the money. 

There is a debug interaction on the kiosk that allows you to check the library budget.

You can order one book at a time but there’s no limit to how many you can do in a day but once the books are delivered the next morning, the mod will check whether the library has enough money and will only order the books there is money for

Download HERE | alt: HERE

@simstifulccfinds @kpccfinds @katsujiiccfinds @pis3update @wanderingsimsfinds

[xxsycamore]

KING'S GAME

╰┈➤ ❝ I just need to know in case…❞ ❝ In case what? In case you take it a little too far in role-playing? In case you go down on me and the words mon empereur leave your lips? ❞ - After a round of some silly drinking game, MC can't help but have certain thoughts about Napoleon and how easily he takes on the role of someone in power. Naturally, she wants to know his boundaries of it.

Napoleon Bonaparte/MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Drinking Games; Alcohol; Shenanigans; Humor; Sexual Tension; Massage; Kink Negotiation; Sexual Roleplay; Power Play; Dominant Napoleon; Dom/sub; Master/Servant; Blow Jobs; Oral Sex; Choking; Dacryphilia; Stripping; Dirty Talk; Vaginal Fingering; Begging; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Aftercare • wordcount: 6,055 • masterlist

a/n: The idea for this fic was conceived long before an event of the same theme came to Ikevamp EN... We ended up not seeing them all play together in the game so I hope this right here fixes that, maybe? I have no idea how it ended up being that long. I guess I've been looking for the right opportunity to explore this part of Napoleon's character in a smut fic, namely his feelings about being called emperor and the likes in the bedroom. Hope you enjoy!

"Oh, I know! How about we play the Ousama game? It's a popular drinking game back home, in my era!"

It's rare for MC to be the one initiating activities on game nights, so naturally, all eyes are on her. Dazai is quick to give his enthusiastic approval, wanting to know more about a game that came after his time but originates from his homeplace. Sebastian smiles in a similar fashion.

"Good pick, MC. I think our residents are going to like it. Will you please excuse me for a second?"

As Sebastian stands up from the table and dashes out of the room, someone's comment oh my god, he's totally fetching his diary, can be heard. But really, there are no hard feelings. Everyone's more than happy to welcome Sebastian at the table and see him being more open and relaxed around his masters for once. Maybe it does have to be documented.

"It's not something like Arthur's games, I assume?" Isaac directs his gaze at MC, almost pleading under the surface for an affirmative response.

She rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. As much as she hates to disappoint him…

"Erm, it's basically a game of dares… but don't worry, you can always refuse a dare!"

"That's it, if you want to take the punishment, Newt." Arthur seems ready to dance on the physicist's nerves with a complimenting chin-cupping stance, elbows rested on the table and all. Theo rolls his eyes.

"Let me guess. Refuse a dare and drink a shot."

"That's correct." MC nods before Arthur can take more liberties at orchestrating her own game, even if they happen to be thinking in the same direction. "Let me go get what we need for the game!"

By the time Sebastian is back and patting his breast pocket suspiciously, so is MC, with a handful of… chopsticks. And a fountain pen.

"So, what I'm going to do now is write a number for each one of us… Vincent, Theo, Arthur, Isaac, Mozart, Dazai, Sebastian, Napoleon, and I…so that means numbers 1 to 8, and on the ninth chopstick, I'm going to write Ousama - which means 'King' - and then we shuffle the chopsticks in a cup - Arthur, can you pass me the empty cup next to you? - then we each take one but without showing our numbers to the others. Whoever gets the Ousama chopstick becomes King and he places a dare for someone, using the numbers! Is everything clear?"

"Uh. What kind of dares are allowed?"

Napoleon nods at the direction the question originates from. "Good point. Hey, maybe tone it down with the sexual stuff. There are taken people at the table."

Arthur snaps, "Why are you looking at me? I wasn't intending to. Besides, if a dare doesn't stand right with you, you can always drink and avoid it!"

Memories of other game nights seem to flood multiple minds at once, so MC lets out a half-chuckle half-sigh and moves on. She does take a mental note of the hint of possessiveness in Napoleon's comment just now who instantly got worried about another man being prompted to touch her inappropriately. As if anyone has the balls to touch Napoleon's woman, she thinks to herself… and kind of likes the way it sounds in her head.

It's a shame that Leonardo and Comte aren't joining them tonight and are instead enjoying a more sane way of getting alcohol in their system, in some quiet corner of the mansion. And Comte is totally not smoking a cigarillo right now while talking to his old friend, claiming that he hasn't had one in forever, again. And for that matter, Jean's presence is missed as well, but sadly (although understandably) he dislikes partaking in such activities. He's a lot like Mozart in this regard, with the difference that Mozart becomes another person when he drinks some. And that person loves joining drinking games with his buddies!

"If we're all ready - here we go!"

MC gives the cup a rather unnecessary bartender-style shake, assuring the chopsticks are well shuffled and ready to make it to all the wrong hands.

Once placed on the table, a crowd of hands quickly reach into the cup and sneakily withdraw in order to hide their new secret identity, with the exception of one person who has nothing to hide.

"I'm the king. My, I wasn't prepared for this."

As Sebastian holds up the chopstick of fate high in the air for all to see, a few pairs of surprised eyes catch his own. And something like a shimmer lights up in Sebastian's ones.

For someone as unprepared as him, he surely doesn't waste time on thinking about his next move. Not at all.

"Number 6, exchange a clothing item with number 1. Number 3, take off your pants without using your hands. And number 4 must do a handstand."

"By Jove, Sebas, your fetishes are showing!" Arthur blinks, both surprised and somehow entertained by the turn of events which (in his own head) kicks him off the position of number one most perverted person around the table. Or at least for the time being. He's only smiling now because he's safe, being the lucky number 7 and out of Sebastian's fantasies.

Isaac and Theo can't say the same. They exchange a look - eyes traveling up and down each other's frames - looking for a convenient clothing item to exchange, given their different builds. Theo is done with his choice first, and he reaches over the table to undo Isaac's necktie. The smaller man averts his gaze, turning his head away as much as he can so it's not in Theo's way, or perhaps out of embarrassment, but it's over before it ever began thanks to Theo's rough but effective methods of freeing the cloth from under his collar. Using the chance coming with the shortened distance, Isaac snatches Theo's scarf in return as the most adequate thing to take.

"Aw, you two are boring." Napoleon mocks for change, drumming his fingers on the table with a smirk. Theo muses with the thin black tie in his hands, turning to Napoleon with an empty look and silently wrapping it around his forehead instead, tying it off at the side.

"Is this better?"

"Snrk. I don't know, what do we think, Sebas?"

"I approve of your new look, Master Theodorus. Or should I drop the 'Master'? I'm the King now, after all."

MC gasps, "Sebas! Oh, this game is dangerous…"

"Tell me about it. My first dare and I already have to drink. Woe is me." Dazai weeps, rising up from his seat to point at his hakama, making it impossible for him to complete the take off your pants without hands dare.

"Guess that leaves me." Napoleon sighs, pushing his chair back audibly as he stands up.

"Ooh! Go for it, Naps!"

"Good thing it went to someone who's in good shape. I bet it's a piece of cake for him."

"We'll see now." Napoleon smirks to himself, rubbing his hands together as he prepares to tackle the handstand. His eyes get serious for a second as he calculates it all, and in the next moment, his hands are flat against the floor changing the center of his weight. While he's upside down, the gravity makes his partly untucked shirt expose his abs.

Someone whistles, and MC finds herself staring. As if for the first time.

All too soon, Napoleon is back on his feet again, dusting off his palms and retaking his seat by the table. Sebastian is beaming. "I like this game. Thank you for the idea, MC."

"Thank you, MC." Mozart chimes in, for some reason, oblivious to Sebastian making history tonight as opposed to quietly observing it from the side like usual.

"Haha, you guys are welcome… so, let's do it again, shall we? Let's see who will be King this time around~!"

After the new shuffle of chopsticks, everyone seems a little more lively, a little more hopeful - some driven by revenge and some simply by the contagious evil brewing in the air.

"Who is King?"

Out of the people looking at their newly acquired chopsticks, Napoleon is the one who speaks up.

"I guess that would be me."

"It's Napoleon, huh…"

"Oh, how fitting! You were born for it, Naps."

"Haha, not really."

"My bad. You're an emperor, not a king. I'm so sorry, Your Majesty."

Napoleon snorts, not playing along - or perhaps his dismissing the extended apology is his way of playing along. MC raises an eyebrow, studying his reaction. Napoleon's attitude towards these things is… rather complicated, as he seems to both loathe his so-called days of glory and simultaneously accept them for what they are, a part of him. She's been confused more than once about what's a good way of navigating through the situation when the topic is brought up in their conversations. On one hand, she hates the change of expression on his face that makes her feel like winter has returned - even if it's never going to feel to her like how it felt to him, the cruel winter - on the other, she knows he hates it when people walk on eggshells around him.

But now they're all at least half-drunk and merely goofing around. No one's bothered to care about these things, and maybe Napoleon prefers they don't anyway.

"Number 5, hold three ice cubes in your mouth until they melt. Number 4, confess about a fetish you have in front of everyone. Number 2, crack an egg over Number 7's head. Number 1, give me a massage."

"N-Napoleon is a sadist!!"

"So cruel…"

And he's laughing too. Sadistic tendencies aside, his laughter sounds every bit as genuine (and loud) as MC always remembers it to be, and it's strangely soothing. Maybe she should refuse a dare just for the shot, just to drown her worries a little more… Taking a look at her chopstick again because she thinks she heard her number, she sees a 1.

Theo goes somewhere, for ice presumably, despite Sebastian's offer to do it in his stead, and Arthur follows. "Wait, I'll go for the eggs."

"Who got the fetish one?" Napoleon browses the faces of the ones left at the table to spot the flushed one. Vincent raises a hand.

"My fetish is, um… I don't really-"

"Come on Vincent-kun, we all have fetishes~"

"I think I could say… maybe… um.."

"Yes? Go on, say it. We won't judge."

"I'd love it if my partner would touch themselves and let me watch."

"That's perfectly normal, Master Vincent. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Woah, it's both very vanilla and somehow kinky at the same time..." MC muses out loud. "Oh, but nothing to be ashamed of, certainly!"

Arthur and Theo return, with the latter immediately taking note of Vincent's beet-red face.

"What did I miss? Broer?"

"The fetish dare… Don't worry, Theo, I just had a shot instead."

"Oh, that's good. I mean, no it's not! Napoleon, how dare you make mjin broer take a punishment!"

"It wasn't really- Anyway, Theo, let's shut you up now."

Theo groans, dragging on every move as if giving the ice a chance to melt as much as possible before the inevitable contact with his mouth. At last, there's nowhere to escape and he pops the cubes in his mouth, thankfully they fit.

"Okay, I've been waiting for this. Who gets an egg in the head?"

"It's me… I hate this game…"

Isaac cards his fingers through his strawberry locks, as if for one last time while they're still egg-free. In the meantime, Theo's expression twists, less out of sympathy and more because the ice begins to torture him from the inside out.

"And the executioner?"

"Master Isaac, I'm truly sorry, it's me." Sebastian raises his gloved hand.

"Ahahaha! Haha!" Mozart laughs at the turn of events seeing a servant disserving his master. Or maybe the reason behind his laughter is nowhere that complex. One thing is certain, for some reason, he always gets out of the bunch's drinking games taking no damage in the form of nasty dares and punishments.

Sebastian stands up reluctantly, then sits down again. "Should I just drink? But I have to remind, I can't hold my liquor very well, I'm afraid."

"Just get it over with. I won't be mad at you or anything."

Sebastian sighs to show a little more reluctance before committing the deed. He looks like he's trying to miss his target, but unfortunately the raw egg still perfectly lands on Isaac's head, quickly descending down his face. Isaac's grossed-out expression mirrors Theo's current agony. As someone hands Isaac a handkerchief to wipe off the sticky mess with, another jokingly calls the sight erotic…

"Alright, I'm ready for my massage. Who shall serve the King?"

Napoleon relaxes back in his seat demonstratively in anticipation. It's a bold invitation, and everyone looks up to see the chosen one.

"My king."

MC stands up, showing her chopstick marked with the number 1. She tries to mute the sound of the others' reactions in her head as suddenly her pulse speeds up.

Napoleon flashes her a grin.

"Very well. The King is expecting you."

He lifts his glass to his lips as he hasn't touched it since the beginning of the game, probably deeming it worthless with the nature of the game. Not that he's expecting to be drinking anytime soon - he's simply not the type to back out from any dare unless it's too ridiculous even for him. Maybe that's why he started to miss the warmth at the back of his throat.

As MC makes her way to where he sits, she witnesses the singular bobbing of his Adam's apple when he gulps down the liquid, and she watches dumbstruck for a second as he motions for her to take a sip if she wants to, from the same glass. Well, yes, she finished her own drink a while ago. She accepts the glass from his hold.

"Now, what kind of massage should I request? Hmm…"

Arthur's dirty remarks fall on deaf ears as MC focuses on not choking on the liquid in her mouth.

Napoleon is a giver.

But there's something damn attractive when he allows himself to take from others.

"The king orders you to rub his shoulders."

And it's damn attractive when he's commanding like that. She sees now what the others were referring to in their provocations earlier - it rolls so, so easily off his tongue when he gives an order like this. Even if it's for a stupid game, the sharp look he gives her feels rather… real.

Not that this is anything new to her. For all Napoleon's gentleness, in the bedroom, he has this side of him that colors him rather dominant. And she'd be lying if she said she's gotten so used to it by now she doesn't feel anything between her legs right this moment. Instead of being a liar, she blames it on the alcohol.

Standing behind Napoleon, MC puts her hands on his broad shoulders… and really, it's been a while since she last gave him a massage. Usually, it's the other way around, as Napoleon added it to his ever-growing list of skills, even if initially it was something he'd never done before, given his status in his past life. Now she has his shoulders all to herself to knead and push at, and she catches herself putting selfishness in the act of service. Because she can't help but have impure thoughts.

Napoleon groans. It's quiet but she catches it over the cacophony of other noises in the room coming from the rowdy bunch. They're already setting things up for the next round, and here she's still stuck on her dare. She doesn't want to go back to her seat. Maybe Napoleon can read her thoughts like he always does and offer her his lap for the rest of the night; maybe he will go further and excuse the two of them for the night-

One hand at work, she reaches the other into the cup because they tell her to, and it appears to be Isaac's turn to be King. Good for him, but bad for everyone else. Seems like it's going to be a long night…

Later in the night and a few more rounds down the line, apples have been eaten without hands, glasses have been downed, a few mounts were the targets of unpleasant substances, either deadly spicy or deadly sweet, some clothes have been removed, some eyes filled with tears - and the collective level of soberness in the room has been drastically lowered.

It's a surprise how they even managed to put an end to it before the sun came out when naturally there's always someone who didn't get a chance to take revenge on someone else. Napoleon and Theo, being the best at holding their liquor as per usual, felt it their duty to help the others to their rooms.

MC didn't have much to drink, otherwise she'd be asleep on the pile of residents by now. Not that she intended to retain some of her soberness, it simply happened - because the bubbling feeling in her chest wasn't caused by alcohol, to begin with.

Napoleon, always the caretaker. Maybe if she throws herself at him he'll carry her to her room as well.

"Goodnight, Theo, go get some sleep." The sound of him returning after separating from Theo interrupts her daydreams.

Once he sees he's all alone with MC, he offers her a smile.

"And we're the last ones again. C'mon Nunuche, let's go to our room."

"Carry me?"

MC tries her best puppy-dog eyes at him, and he tests her for a second like it doesn't work on him. He then gawks at her laziness, hoisting her up his shoulder and giving her ass a little spank. "Let's get you to bed, naughty Nunuche. Some of those guys will be mad at you for weeks, you know? But you better not give them those eyes. Only I get to see them."

"Mm…Napoleon?"

The varnished floorboards creak under Napoleon's steps as he makes his way down the hall, holding MC's weight securely. "Yes?"

"Do you really enjoy it? You know, being treated like a majesty."

It's a short trip, and MC's perspective soon goes back to normal as the floor and the walls swap their places once more before her eyes. Not that she's interested in it, so she throws herself at the bed in the next second, sinking in the welcoming embrace of the comforter, not bothering with removing it at least for the time being.

"Pfft, where did that come from?" Napoleon says while closing the door behind him. The crickets are still singing their songs under their window, it can't be that late in the night.

"From the game. For a second I was worried it left a bad taste in your mouth."

"Hmm." Napoleon fake-muses, kicking off his shoes before sinking one knee on the bed. "I think I liked it when you were the one treating me like a majesty."

"No, don't joke, tell me seriously."

"I am serious though."

Somehow they end up in this position that doesn't help resolve the tension poisoning the air around them one bit; with him caging her with his body on the soft mattress and her having nowhere else to look at but right at his penetrating gaze. Her fingers twitch, nails catching into the fabric of the comforter, seeking a sense of stability.

"I just need to know in case…"

"In case what? In case you take it a little too far in role-playing? In case you go down on me and the words mon empereur leave your lips?"

Like a spark to the kerosene pooling low in her belly, Napoleon's words make beautiful explosions bloom behind her eyelids that have fallen shut amidst the last sentence. She takes a breath but it only feeds the fire as she can't help the way her exhale sounds raspy.

"Would you like that?"

"Would you?"

MC bites on her bottom lip. "This is not about me."

"I thought you wanted to serve your King."

She averts her gaze, because if she looks a little longer at this alluring jade gaze that reeks of sex, she'll be able to feel herself losing her composure, and she's trying to have a serious conversation here.

"I do."

"Hmm." Napoleon plays with her, trailing a hand down her modest home dress, prodding at the buttons at the front. "This is bad, I don't know what to ask for first. I've lost shape."

"Liar. You were perfect at it earlier."

"Someone's been paying attention. Were you also fucking me with your eyes? Right there, at the table?"

MC takes two sharp breaths, and it resembles panting, all too soon. It's out of irritation and not arouse, not yet. When she pictured their little game, she thought she'd just have to bow her head obediently and indulge in her desire to serve. Not enduring Napoleon's verbal teasing as any other night.

"Is it that bad? Will my King punish me now as he sees fit?"

Napoleon looks at her. For all the things that may be at the tip of his tongue, MC imagines most vividly the tone Napoleon would speak them in and how much he's cut for the role. Her soul sings at the thought, but it's nothing holy.

"Get up then. Don't you think it's a little rude to be lying down in my presence?"

That's fair. With renewed vigor, she pushes herself off the bed and waits readily by the side of it.

"Remember to not look me in the eyes. It's forbidden. You'll only look when I allow you to, if I allow you to. You'll have to earn my grace."

Instinctively, MC wants her nod to be accompanied by eye contact, but she corrects her mistake before it can even take place.

"Present yourself. Take it all off."

MC blinks surprisedly at how fast things are happening but isn't against it at all. She has the feeling that he is capable of making her do all sorts of dirty things with a mere flick of his tongue, undressing for him is nothing.

She makes a show of it, despite not having many articles of clothing on her to take off seductively - before long, she's stepping out of her dress that has pooled at her feet, and she retakes her previous position.

"I'm pleased with what I'm seeing. Come closer. Kiss me."

He doesn't have to ask twice. It's something familiar and yearned for since they crossed the threshold of their room—hell, no, since they took a seat at the table for that game. It's welcoming and fulfilling and it's just what she needed-

Or so she thought, until she terribly embarrassed herself with a rather awkward and rigid pressing of lips against lips, and no movement. In her selfishness, and out of habit, she left her mouth open for Napoleon's invasion. But she's forgetting to consider that kings get tired of their conquests too.

She summons her boldness and turns the desire in her veins into fuel for action. She shoves her tongue in Napoleon's mouth, but gently, not with the intention to dominate, but rather to serve. To kiss him until he gets enough. Her tongue swirls against his own, the movement rather clumsy, the making out of a juvenile rather than that of a skillful lover… but it's what he wants. He wants to see her seduce him, use every millimeter of her body for his pleasure, and keep going until he has his fill.

A thin string of saliva connects their lips upon her withdrawal, and her eyes are shut tight. She has to keep them shut, otherwise she'll look right at him. Napoleon chuckles.

"You may open them."

She does, and the sight is not kind on her fragile composure. Locking eyes with Napoleon has never felt like this, like a privilege, and exploring this new feeling is exciting.

"You're not half bad with your mouth. Undress me and put it to use."

Heartbeat thumping in her ears, MC finds it impossible to conduct herself in that moment; to sturdy her hands into performing the task and to break her gaze from his piercing pools of jade. She starts with the shirt, more tugging at the buttons rather than precisely undoing them, before pushing it completely off his shoulders, and finally letting it fall to the floor. He's glorious with just his trousers on and that scrutinizing, almost cold gaze. She opens the fly enough to take his hardness out, and her stomach tightens instinctively.

She wets her lips and parts them, taking in the head of his cock, letting it rest on her tongue. Even when her world narrows down to the hot pulsing flesh in her mouth, she catches herself dividing her focus between pleasuring her lover and.. the position she's doing this in. There's a little bit of getting used to it being required, and it makes her realize how unfamiliar that is - her being on her knees, on the hardwood floor, and Napoleon standing upright. When was the last time they've found themselves in that exact arrangement? It could've happened once or twice before, in the heat of the moment, or when the space had limited them. But never intentionally. Not because MC has anything against it - rather, it would be Napoleon who changes the position whether he's about to receive oral. He makes sure he's at least sitting down at the edge of the bed, where MC can rest her hands on his hips, or on the bed. Where he can see her better, to check up on her. Now she has to look up to see him, and he seems so far away, or maybe her eyes are doing tricks on her, or maybe her vision is blurring because she accidentally took his cock too deep down her throat and now tears are gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Napoleon brings his hand over her head and collects a fistful of her hair, one unfamiliar thing after another - but before intimidation can mix into her blood, she breathes in deeply, because it's not him forcing her down his cock, it's him forcing her off it.

He holds his cock firmly by the base as he directs it at her parted lips again, but doesn't breach the gap between them. He simply rubs his cockhead on the soft cushion of them, gathering the saliva that starts to droll down and smearing it back on her lips.

"A pretty mouth indeed."

MC can only look at him. She looks at him like she's looking straight at an open flame.

"Next," Napoleon begins, cupping her chin and caressing with his thumb where his cock used to be just a second ago. "I want you to go on the bed and show me the position you want to be taken in. Can you do that for your King?"

MC finally averts her gaze; it happens involuntarily, purely as a reaction to another surge of surprise and embarrassment.

"I— Yes, my King."

Napoleon angles her chin up, a signal for her to rise to her feet. Yes, that would be a good start.

The bed is just two steps away from where she is but MC feels like she can trip thrice on the way there with how much her legs have turned to jelly. Still, she makes it. There's not much room for thinking this through, for deciding on what would work out best for both of them - normally it's him who takes these decisions, anyway - so once she leans forward on the bed, she gives way to impulsivity and the way it saves her from having to give it any more thought. If she has to name the reason, it would be that it aligns with everything that Napoleon is tonight. Of course it would be fitting if he were to take her on her hands and knees.

"Does this… please you?"

She hears the rustling of clothes behind her back, probably the sound of Napoleon getting rid of his trousers, before he approaches her. He doesn't say anything about approving the position or not, and MC can't decide if his silence is worse. He comes to stand right behind her, and she crawls a little closer to the edge of the bed to make sure their skin is touching. Napoleon lets one hand roam from the fold of her knee up to the curve of her butt, and MC jumps lightly at the touch. Needless to say, she's sensitive and oh-so neglected. Her insides throb at the mere proximity of Napoleon's slender fingers close to her sex - it's a miracle she doesn't come undone on the spot as he actually directs his touch to the apex of her thighs. Wetness catches on his fingertips and he wastes little time caressing her folds before plunging two fingers inside.

"Nnghhh…" MC tosses her head, trying her best to enjoy the feeling of finally, finally claiming some pleasure but without losing herself completely in it. Napoleon twists his fingers until his open palm is facing upwards, thrusts in and out a few times in a way that doesn't intend to bring pleasure but rather to prepare - and then his fingers audibly and briskly exit her wetness.

MC whines at the loss of his fingers but finds a new fire sparkled to life inside her, and she's more than happy she wouldn't have to wait any longer for the next dose of intoxicating pleasure.

"Good girl. Do you want my cock?" Napoleon asks, openly and greedy. He's not risking having her beat around the bush by posing a more generic question like what she wants next. They both know the answer to that already.

Not that he spares her the torturous reminder of what she'll get by saying the right thing. He rubs his flushed tip on her glistening folds, pressing it in enough to just barely catch on her entrance; to make her bite her tongue and assume he just might show mercy and put it in without her pleading for it.

"I- Yes, please, Napoleon— take me, fuck me! Please…"

She only realizes once it slips out that she used his name and not the object of their little game of pretend that is his title, but there's no going back.

Napoleon doesn't punish her for it. Instead, he rewards her, giving her what she wants most. The groan he lets out as the familiar warmth and tightness enfolds his aching cock is telling of his own desperation.

MC cries out at the intrusion, only now understanding the difference of not having him finger her for longer prior to this. It doesn't hurt - she just feels a little fuller somehow. A little on edge. He gives her time to adjust, however, and she just basks into this dangerous feeling for as long as it's there until he carefully withdraws only to give it another thrust.

"Ahh!" Her insides squeeze around Napoleon again, as he goes in deeper this time. She blames the position, trying to reason out why she feels him in her guts. Napoleon withdraws again, and then pushes in, trying to fit even more of himself inside.

"You're taking me so well. I'm so deep inside you, I bet you can feel me in your deepest parts."

She groans at his words and their truthfulness as his thrusts grow rhythmic, the place where they're connected burning with the delightful friction, and her arms soon give out. She buries her head between her hands, enduring the change of angle as her rear sticks out, and Napoleon keeps pounding at her. His own sounds of pleasure are barely masked by the sounds of skin on skin, but he's not hiding them either. He lets her know how good she's making him feel, telling her something dirty in a low voice that she can barely register over the drumming in her ears.

"You feel so good- merde- Ngh. I want to stay inside you forever."

He's always holding her tightly when he fucks her, his grip being strong enough to leave marks the following day, but there's something about the way he takes hold of her hips now. At first, MC thinks nothing of it, lost in euphoric pleasure. It's only when she feels her knees being lifted off the bed that she understands what's happening.

Napoleon rises up her bottom to meet his hips, in his standing upright position, taking full control of her body in that moment. He's so strong, making it all seem effortless; and it's not a matter of matching his thrusts anymore - she can't do anything. She's facing away, with one pair of limbs immobilized and the other grasping uselessly for purchase at the covers. Her whole body rocks back and forth, feeling like a ragdoll in Napoleon's arms. There's something primal and simultaneously embarrassing about how good it feels to give herself over to him like that; about the trust she puts in him to have her completely at his mercy.

And then Napoleon stills inside her. And he groans. And before she knows it, a warm spray of come hits her walls. Her eyes widen, only now realizing they've already been going at it for a while, for a while enough that he seemingly couldn't hold back and—

And maybe he just didn't feel like waiting for her to come before he does.

The realization makes her dizzy in an unexplainable way, and she moans so loudly she feels herself pathetically falling into that bottomless fit, just like that, just as Napoleon takes his cock out of her. It's petrifying, coming without him inside her, but strangely the pleasure never ceases. His hand finds his way between her quivering thighs and shoves them apart in a quick manner, beginning to rub at her clit; whispering praises against the skin of her nape, enveloping her smaller body with his own from behind as she presses into the bed so violently, chasing after her peak.

"Come for me. Come for me and scream my name."

And that's enough to tip her over the edge. Coming with Napoleon's load inside her intensifies the feeling; the way her insides are still remembering his shape, the way she's so full yet so empty. It makes her see stars.

"Napoleon— Ahhhhh!!"

"I'm here. I'm here, mon amour."

Napoleon holds her trembling form as he draws out the last of her high, gently moving her into a spooning position. He keeps touching her everywhere, her belly, her breasts, the curve of her shoulder, caressing all the spots that went unloved in their game.

"I felt— so good I thought I might die—"

Napoleon huffs out a breathy chuckle, and it tickles the babyhairs at the base of her neck.

"I'd be lying if I said this doesn't stroke my ego, Nunuche.", he whispers, and it's somehow more shiver-inducing than anything he's said that night. "I think you might be right. I might be enjoying myself a bit too much when I'm calling the shots."

MC turns her neck just enough to look at him from the corner of her eye. She studies him again, with his disheveled hair and boyish smile and his low tolerance of putting up a front now that he gave voice to his most basic instinct and let it rob him of the ability to give anything more thought than he needs to. She leans in for a kiss and he takes the initiative enthusiastically but ends up drawing it out to make the remaining endorphins dance slowly between their bodies.

Letting the tiredness in her limbs settle in just like the fact that the room is several shades a brighter blue than how they entered it, MC only nuzzles back onto Napoleon's chest, trying not to give voice to the heat between her legs beginning to awake again without a sense of the time.

"And I might just love to see you like that. Mon empereur."

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[pillarsalt]

hi um

I was? transmasc but recently I’ve been seeing a lot of really misogynistic sexist transphobic stuff from trans community and it’s just been totally accepted, even by other transmascs. It’s been going on for a while but recently there was a murder of a nonbinary afab person and yet the whole trans community here has been silent, instead screaming about a transfem user being banned or something? This isn’t the first time an afab trans persons suffering has been dismissed, but now right after this awful death, i see transfems making posts about how transmascs talking about their oppression are terfs.

I didn’t want to think about it but all i could think about was that it was weird how despite everyone claiming trans men have all this privilege, trans women always come first…they get the most representation, they get the fame the admiration and the opportunities, their voices are always the loudest and their problems always always come first no matter what.

But despite popular belief trans men’s issues aren’t actually less significant, in some cases we suffer far more than trans women especially in regard to sexual violence. Yet we are silenced. We are frequently left poor, we are discriminated against for our sex we are discriminated against for being trans we are discriminated against for being perceived as lesbians. Yet we are made to be silent?

Why are our voices less important than trans women’s?

And all I could think about was that this is how females are treated in every other area.

I don’t know what else to say… I tried so hard not to reach that conclusion because I don’t want to be transmysogynist but I kept coming back to it and I couldn’t find an argument against it. This is how females are treated. This is what male privilege look like. And if trans women have male privilege, then why the fuck am I sitting here letting them talk over me?

I just feel really really angry. Your a blog who I liked your art but I blocked you when I discovered you were a radfem, but I sort of had you in the back of my mind for some reason and now I feel lost and confused, and I don’t think I want to be part of the trans community anymore.

Hey anon, firstly I really appreciate your willingness to have an open discussion with me. This must be weighing on you pretty heavily.

Secondly, holy shit, you're right. While the entire website is treating this user's ban as a national travesty, I haven't seen a single person talking about Nex's murder despite how much they claim to care about trans people. That's really fucking low, and this situation does very much encapsulate the state of misogyny within the trans community.

And you're right, this IS how females are treated in every other area. Throughout history, the suffering and injustice women face is minimized, laughed at, ignored, and when we want to talk about it, we're shut down and told we're making people uncomfortable and our pain isn't that bad. And here we are again, with a female person's death outweighed by a male person's inconvenience.

The denial of sex-based oppression that permeates trans spaces is a blatant lie that can only be held together if nobody is allowed to acknowledge it, and those who do are punished. If the trans community truly stood behind what they say, discussion would be encouraged! The foundation of their movement would be backed up with facts and replicable science! But instead, they'll call you a bigot for pointing out systems of oppression you can see with your own eyes. Because if you do, transwomen's position as Most Oppressed, and therefore the final authority on what's right and wrong, collapses. You are correct when you say that it seems like transwomen always come first; I don't remember who said it first, but just look at magazine covers featuring trans people -- the transwomen are fully clothed CEOs, athletes, movie stars, but transmen mostly get on magazine covers for... being pregnant and half naked. Misogyny is built into every society on earth, and individuals simply calling themselves something else doesn't change that. And when you give male people free reign to be as misogynistic as they want without consequence, they'll grab that opportunity and hold on like their lives depend on it. The way they weaponize transmen's sex against them is indistinguishable from what 'cis' men do to 'cis' women, but if you ever speak out about it, somehow YOU'RE the one hurting THEM. They do not want transmascs to find solidarity with other female people, because then they would have to face the reality of their own place in a patriarchal world, and face the fact that there are experiences exclusive to female people and that we have the right to speak about it. I mean you see shit like this and the motives become completely transparent:

I do find it funny how hard the trans community and their allies work to prevent anyone from hearing what radfems have to say in case they "corrupt" you with mere words. A lot of the time, it's simply listening to transwomen themselves that sparks the feeling of "something's not right here" in your brain. That's what happened with me too. I'll tell you that most of us also used to be proponents of trans activism, many formerly identifying as trans too. You are seeing through manipulation, and I know it's quite shocking to realize. Even when I first started having doubts about trans rhetoric, I thought "well everyone else agrees about this, so I need to shut up and be nice about it even if I don't agree." It's an unpleasant place to be in. The cognitive dissonance is exhausting though, and it becomes impossible to ignore.

The mistreatment of transmasc people in the trans community by transfems is brutal, and It's hard to watch from the outside because I just want to say "Hey, you know you don't have to take this shit, right?" And you really don't. You are not at all a bad person for recognizing the frankly absurd amount of misogyny in the trans community. Feeling lost and confused is shitty, but it's normal for this situation. The best thing you can do is keep observing, keep reading, form your own opinions, and never let anyone tell you to shut up. Above all, prioritize yourself and your mental wellbeing. If you need to remove yourself from gender-related spaces and discussion for a while, that's totally alright. Just know you're not evil or a bigot for not blindly agreeing with everything the trans community has told you. Your opinions and experiences are worthwhile too.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Notice Me Part Two (Diluc, Albedo)

My sister suggested these and now that it’s cool enough to think, I figured I’d do them.

CW: Fluff

Diluc x Fem!reader, Albedo x fem!reader

Requests are OPEN

Diluc

Surprisingly, Diluc is actually pretty good

He does what Ayato did and starts with flowers from a secret admirer

Every few days a bouquet of flowers ends up at the Adventurers Guild with an anonymous note addressed to you

Sometimes they are your favorite flowers other times they seem to be random

You get teased about this some, though after a few sharp looks and a comment about how “you don’t see them getting any flowers” quickly quiets your co workers

Of course, even after the teasing stops, you and the other girls do discuss who might be sending them to you

One of your friends points out that on the “random flower” days the flowers usually use the language of flowers to say something in addition to the notes. When the note says “good luck” the flowers might say “be in good health” or “Thinking of you”

Your heart totally skips a step when your friend said that

This goes on for a while. More and more you take more domestic commissions in an attempt to figure out who might be sending you the flowers

Eventually, Diluc--having heard that the flowers we more than well received-- decides to take a few days off

He goes to the adventurer’s guild, ostensibly to drop off a commission himself (literally all of his employees mentally called bullshit)

When he came to you personally, things clicked. Expensive flowers+knowledge of something fancy like the language of flowers=rich boy and Diluc certainly fits the “rich” label. It’s not like you were complaining. You would have thought of him earlier, but the guy seems to be completely indifferent to romance. “Married to work” some of your friends might say

Once you figure this out you start putting yourself in a position to take commissions for the Dawn Winery and the Angel’s Share

Once you even accepted Kaeya’s invitation to go drinking with him and Rosaria (Diluc’s attentions hadn’t escaped his notice) in hopes that he would be at the Angel’s Share

He was not. And he was mildly irritated when Charles told him that “the future Lady of the Dawn Winery” was there (Charles knows what’s up, hehe), though impressed that you kept Kaeya and Rosaria’s drinking to a minimum

The next time he had free time, Diluc stopped at Flora’s and personally ordered an extra large bouquet of your favorite flowers and went to ask you out

He just about spontaneously combusted when you kissed his cheek as an answer

 Albedo 

If Diluc is surprisingly good at this thing, Albedo is unsurprisingly bad

His first tactic is to commission your help long term

Which might have worked except every now and then he does stuff like that. The guild is used to “go fer” commissions from the alchemist

Albedo realized this a few days into the commission, when you showed no signs of acknowledging the attention. At first he read it as a rejection before realizing that this isn’t unheard of behavior for him and that he needs to augment it with something more obvious

Much to his delight, the failed attempt at showing you his affection allows him to study you in detail without ending up like the forever disliked Albert (he frequently feels sympathy for Barbara and the other nuns who constantly have to deal with his “affections”)

Over the next week or two he figures out your favorite food, flowers, and some other mundane tidbits that might prove useful in the future

It isn’t long, however, before he starts to think that maybe the best idea isn’t subtlety. He’s not good enough with people to successfully pull off the subtle wooing that some others might be able to

And so he’s faced with an unfamiliar feeling. Nervousness. Just the thought of going up and asking you to date him fills his stomach with butterflies.

Of course, this doesn’t actually stop him. The day you leave to go back to Mondstadt he pulls you aside

When he asks you giggle, “so that’s what this was about. I did think it was a little odd that you wanted company for this long” before happily agreeing to date him

You leave and he comes face to face with his next objective: planning a date

[laviefantasie]

When Emma Falls In Love…

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: If there was one thing Satoru was thankful for, it was you.

| Masterlist |

They say it is incredibly rare to find someone that cares about you without another agenda. One that wants to see you achieves your hopes and dreams. One that encourages you to grow and is right by your side throughout each and every mess. One who does not define love with an ‘if’ or a ‘because’, but with an ‘in spite for’ and an ‘even though’. One that is brave enough to love unconditionally, without ever expecting anything in return; one that just gives.

The world has approximately 8 billion people in it and yet, to love or be loved unconditionally is a once in a blue moon occurrence.

Y/L/N Y/N knew this.

She has always known that love is a serendipity. Something fortuitous. She has always known that it is the greatest curse of all; that loving is giving the other person a gun and have them point it at you, allowing them to decide if you live or die.

Yet, she has also always known that everything that can be considered a curse can be considered a blessing, all depends on the point of view.

So, Y/N has never closed herself off to the idea of love. But she has never looked for it either.

To be honest, even if she wanted to look for it (which she doesn’t) she wouldn’t have the opportunity (nor the choice) to do so. Not when she was a Jujutsu Sorcerer from the Y/L/N clan. Not when she was the heiress of said clan.

She didn’t have choices when it came to trivial things like love. She was set to marry as soon as she graduates to start producing another heir, to make sure to pass her family’s curse technique. She had always known this. She had always been taught about it.

So… why was this happening now?

Why was she ignoring Yaga-sensei’s lesson to stare at her white-haired doofus childhood friend/classmate?

And why was her heart beating so loud?

A paper ball hits the back of her head, startling her. Turning in her seat, Y/N meets the nonchalant eyes of her best friend, Ieiri Shoko. Said girl gestures with her eyes to the paper on the floor, so with a fleeting glance at her teacher Y/N bends to pick it up.

[ Why are you staring at Tweedledee over there? ]

Y/N winces slightly as soon as she reads the message. Hurrying to hide it in her notebook, even if there was no one close enough to read it.

Damn Shoko and her intuition.

Deciding to ignore her best friend, Y/N stares straight ahead at her teacher. Physically restraining herself every single time her eyes dared to try to gaze at her white-haired friend.

When class finally ends, Y/N tries to pick her stuff up as soon as possible, hoping to be able to outrun her curious best friend.

But, of course, she was naive for thinking she could.

“Someone’s in a hurry” Shoko’s unbothered sweet voice states from her side, “Wonder why”

Y/N closed her eyes in defeat before opening them to look at the amused eyes of her best friend.

“Now, will you answer my—?”

“Y/N!”

The loud and excited voice of the boy Y/N had spend most of the class staring at startled them both. And soon they are joined by their two other classmates.

The problematic duo. The strongest boys: Tweedledum and Tweedledee, known also as Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru.

The white-haired beauty rests his arm on Y/N’s shoulder as soon as he comes to her side, Geto mimicking his actions with Shoko. Both of them smirking.

“What are you girls whispering about?” Satoru asks with amusement, “Is it about me?”

Shoko scoffs, “In your dreams”

“How’d you know?”

Geto rolls his eyes, “Ignore him. We wanted to ask you both if you wanted to go to Tokyo, there’s this cafe we want to try”

“Sure” Y/N nods, “We should ask Nanami and Haibara if they want to join us”

Satoru groans loudly as soon as the words leave her mouth, and pushes most of his body weight onto her, making her almost lose her balance.

“I refuse”

Suguru lets out a big laugh after his best friend’s words while Shoko only looks totally amused, as if she had already expected that.

Y/N, on the other hand, looks at Satoru with a frown.

“You refuse? Why would you refuse?”

“Because”

“What do you mean ‘because’?”

“Because”

Y/N narrows her eyes before looking at her other friends for answers, but both of them just smile at her, totally amused by the scene happening in front of them.

“One reason. Give me one reason and I’ll agree”

Satoru shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t like sharing”

“Huh?”

Satoru doesn’t wait for her to try to decipher his statement, instead he grabs her bag before pushing her so she starts walking.

“You said to give you a reason, there it is” he pushes her once more “Now, move”

She does as told, even when her mind still works to try to understand what he said. Either way, as soon as they are all out of their school’s barrier said statement is forgotten. After-all, Satoru had always said vague things like that to her ever since they met, nothing worth frying her brain for.

Okay, something was really wrong with her. Not only had she spent all of last month staring at Gojo Satoru every single day whenever he was close, but now she was glaring at said boy while he flirted with a non-sorcerer.

Why the hell was she glaring? Why was she even looking at them? Satoru flirting wasn’t a new occurrence, on the contrary, it was a daily event. For Satoru flirting was as natural and as necessary as breathing, so why was she so bothered by it right now? It’s not as if she had never witnessed it before, so why did it mattered now?

Why was her chest aching so annoyingly? Why did she feel so nauseous when she had barely touched her food? Why couldn’t she drift her gaze away from them?

Y/N clenched her hands shut, forcing herself to look at her food. Why was it so hard to do something as simple as that? Why did her chest hurt enough that she had to remind herself to do something as natural as breathing?

“Not hungry?”

She moves her gaze from her food to the reason behind her inner turmoil who had finally seemed to remember he came here with her, not with the pretty blonde non-sorcerer he was just speaking to.

“Uh…” she fleetingly looks at her untouched full plate, “Not really”

Satoru frowns, “Do you feel okay?”

Breathe in. Breathe out, she reminds herself.

Why was it that she suddenly felt like crying? Was it because he was looking at her with such sincere worry? Or was it because he had lowered his round sunglasses to really look at her with those mesmerizing blue eyes so he could make sure she was okay?

What was wrong with her?

"Uh—I…Jus—Can we go back?" she stammers, "I don't feel really good"

Satoru’s frown deepens, but he nods and soon both of them are making their way back to their school. In complete silence.

As soon as Y/N makes it back to the security of her dorm, she doesn’t waste a single second. She hurries to lock her door and to close her blinds, grabbing her phone as fast as possibly and dialing her mother’s number.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She needed answers or she would lose her mind, and the only person who she knew could give her those was the one she trusted the most: her mom.

“Honey?” She hears her mom’s sweet and soft voice as she answers, “You good? You never call”

“I…”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Something is wrong” she whispers.

“What’s going on?”

What was going on? That was a hard question. And so she explained, as best as she could. And her mom listened, silently and patiently. Never interrupting her, even when she was stammering and rambling all over the place.

As the words leave her lips in hurried whispers, her feet pace around her room anxiously.

“Oh, honey”

Maybe it was the understanding in her mother’s voice or maybe the softness in her pet name, but it was then that she understood.

“I’m not in love”

But, oh, how ironic. It was the moment the words left her mouth, the moment she tried to convince her mom (or maybe herself) of it, that she understood it.

She was in love with one of her best friends.

Her feet stop pacing. Her heart stops beating. Her breath slows down and her knees tremble. All adrenaline leaving her abruptly.

She has to force herself to move to her bed so she can sit before her body gives up on her.

“Oh” she whispers, “Oh”

“Yeah, oh” her mom responds, “So, the one blessed with the six eyes?”

“Satoru” she whispers as a reflex, used to having to remind a lot of sorcerers around them that Satoru is more than just that.

“Satoru” her mom repeats, “What is he like now? I haven’t seen him in a long time”

“Uh, well… he is something else, definitely” she whispers softly, “He is kind and loyal. Also funny. Although, he has a huge ego… uh, he—kinda a womanizer”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“He is a womanizer” she repeats, as if reminding herself, “Never one to settle down. Gets bored pretty easily of people. Things he’s above all that—romance, I mean. He’s not really serious about anything, so commitment is out of the question. Doesn’t really trust people with his feelings, so that’d be a problem, right? And—”

“Honey,” her mom interrupts, “sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself about how this could end up going wrong without even trying first”

Huh.

So that’s what she’s doing.

Everything changed after the call with her mom. Everything changed once she finally understood what was truly going on with her. How could it not when she was never one to hide her feelings? Always wearing her heart on her sleeve, never knowing how to hide the light in her e/c eyes.

Everyone noticed and she constantly scolded herself for it. Yet, she couldn’t help it.

She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Satoru as if he hung in the air like the stars in outer space, brighter than the moon itself. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling every time their eyes met nor the way her eyes lit up.

But just as she couldn’t stop herself from expressing how she felt, Satoru couldn’t force himself to reciprocate her feelings.

Satoru had never been one to believe in love. He, as she did, believed love to be the worst curse of them all. But, contrary to her belief, he could never even think of the possibility of it being a blessing. So, even when his attitude towards her never change, there was this new wall built between them that kept her far enough to never reach his heart.

She didn’t need to confess for him to know her feelings.

He didn’t need to reject her for her to know his.

They had always been close, since the moment they met when they were six. They had always understood each other without the need to explain themselves, and maybe it was because of the way their cursed techniques were interlaced but it didn’t matter to them.

Both always knew where the other stood.

Y/N knew Satoru wasn’t ready for the love she felt for him. Didn’t even know if he’d ever be ready for it. But she had no intention of falling in love with anyone else, at least not at the moment. So, whenever he’s ready, she’d be there.

He was her first love. He had forever changed her and she knew no matter how hard she tried, that wouldn’t go away.

So, for now, she was content with how little he gave her. She was content with how careful he was with her feelings even when he had no intention of reciprocating them.

So, when did everything change?

There were only four known special grade sorcerers so far in Japan: Tsukumo Yuki, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Y/L/N Y/N. Although Tsukumo is not associated with Jujutsu High, so the only sorcerers that Yaga would entrust a mission as important as the one of the Star Plasma Vessel are the three special grades in his care.

“Escort the vessel and erase her?” Satoru asks.

Geto and Y/N share a look before focusing once again on their teacher, who confirms the mission. Not even a second later, Suguru and Satoru start whispering about Yaga losing his mind making the only girl present roll her eyes.

By the end of the conversation, the three best friends were on babysitting duty of the girl meant to reset master Tengen’s cursed technique.

Y/N receives her cold black tea from Satoru’s hands before they start making their way once again to the location of the Star Plasma Vessel, all while Suguru tries to answer each of Satoru’s questions.

“Anyways, it should be okay” Satoru shrugs, “We’re the strongest”

Y/N scoffs a laugh, while Suguru sighs and tries to explain to Satoru how he should start dialing down his narcissistic tendencies.

“Sheesh, give me a break” Satoru groans, “Y/N likes me the way I am, right?”

Her eyes widen and a blush soon makes home in her cheeks, making her turn her face away from him to avoid his amused smile.

“Uh—I…”

An explosion saves her from answering, although she isn’t sure she’d rather deal with that. Maybe that’s when everything started truly going downhill.

It didn’t take long for the three of them to take action and defeat the Q workers, saving the girl they learned was Amanai Riko. The young girl was a firecracker that had made Y/N laugh after she slapped Satoru and insulted Suguru. Maybe things would’ve been better if she hadn’t been so innocent and likable; if she hadn’t been so young and pure.

But things hadn’t been better. Honestly, things couldn’t have gone more wrong.

She wishes they’d stayed in Okinawa. All of them had been so at peace there. All of them had so much fun. They had gone to the beach after rescuing Amanai’s caretaker, where Satoru had run to the water with Y/N on his grasps while ignoring her screams. They had eaten and joked around before going to the aquarium.

Maybe she should’ve stopped Satoru from staying awake that night, maybe she should’ve made him rest for some time instead of deciding to make him company before falling asleep on his shoulder. Maybe then things would’ve been different.

But Y/N had done none of that and now she was staring at the consequences.

Satoru was just stabbed in front of her, just after they crossed the barrier around Jujutsu High that protected them.

Y/N had never wanted more to fully dominate her cursed technique. Never had she ever wanted to understand the depth behind the intricate time manipulation cursed technique her family possessed that made them the Gojo clan’s greatest ally. She possessed one of the most powerful known cursed techniques, one that could make her an equal to Satoru, yet she had never truly bothered with anything below the surface.

Not even when her father had explained to her the greatness she was destined to achieve. Not when, like Satoru, her birth had change the world.

She had never wanted to be exceptional, she had always just wanted to be strong enough to protect those she loved. Acquiring her cursed techniques full depth came with a great sacrifice. One she had never been willing to pay.

But now?

Now she’d pay the price without a second thought. What did it matter if she’d have to suffer through the pain of her eyes bleeding until her irises and pupils turned completely white? What did it matter if her lifetime shall shorten with every time she fooled destiny? What would it matter if she’d have to live with the possibility of losing her mind at any moment, never distinguishing the difference between the past, the present or the future again?

She would do it. She would do it without a second thought if that meant not staring at Satoru in the eyes as he orders her to follow Suguru, to leave him behind, as he bleeds.

She shakes her head.

She wasn’t leaving him, not with whoever that man was. She could feel he was dangerous, she didn’t know how she knew it but she did.

Y/N would never forgive herself if she left him behind.

“You have to trust me, Y/N” Satoru’s smile softens, “Trust me”

She shouldn’t have turned around, but she did. She trusted him with her life, so she had to trust him with his own.

She’d never trust him like that again.

Blood flows from her mouth as she lays face down on the floor, wounds all over her body as Fushiguro Toji stares down at her.

“So this is the Y/L/N pride” he murmurs, “Aren’t you supposed to be strong? The Gojo’s Six Eyes biggest ally or something like that? That’s the story, isn’t it? The space and time techniques are supposed to coexist with one another according to the legend of the Six Eyes and the Blind One, am I wrong?”

Y/N coughs out blood, her gaze blurring.

“At least he put up a fight” he scoffs, “You were doing so well until I told you I killed him”

She flinched at the reminder, making him scoff once again.

“The Blind One that sees all” he scoffs in disbelief, “What a joke. Let’s end this here, agree?”

He stabs her once more, forcing her to cough out even more blood before forcing the blade to go from her lower back to the back of her neck.

“You’re no threat with how little control you have over your cursed technique” he murmurs, “but waiting for you to become one is not an option. It was to meet you, let’s never do this again”

She tried to stay awake, tried to remember everything Shoko had ever taught her about reverse cursed technique, but her mind was too out of it to form any coherent thought. Maybe that was how she was meant to die, after all her life had always been intertwined in a way with Satoru’s, so if he was gone what was the point of her being there at all?

Her eyes closed, yet she kept breathing.

Her mind was fuzzy, yet like a mantra the names of every single person she loved repeated themselves over and over again.

That’s when she felt it happen.

Her eyes open wide and a painful scream, strong enough to tear her vocal cords, left her body. Blood started pouring out of her eyes as the e/c and black in them starts being burnt away as if the water in her eyelids was acid.

She had never felt pain like this. It felt as if her eyes were being stabbed by a hundred needles over and over again. And when it finally stopped, and her body started healing herself once again, she understood every word her father had ever uttered to her about their powerful cursed technique.

So this is what it means to be blessed and cursed. To give more time as you lose your own. She had felt herself dying, yet her own cursed technique sent her body back in time, to when she hadn’t yet been hurt. Even as hours of her future self were taken from her for cheating death, she could still see it. It was crystal clear in her mind, as if it was a scene she had seen in a movie.

So that’s what her father meant when he told her she could lose herself to the past, the present, the future, and all its endless possibilities?

That was meant to be her world from now on.

“Y/N”

She blinks once. Twice. Thrice. Before pushing herself to a kneeling position so she could move her gaze to the source. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.

Yet it was. She knew it. It wasn’t one of the possibilities on the multiverses she could see.

Even with her eyesight lost, she could sense his cursed technique. He could visualize him by the way his cursed technique lit up his body shape.

He was here. He was alive.

“Stand up” he tells her, “ Amanai is dead. We failed”

Her knees tremble as she forces herself to stand. How could he be so calm? How could his voice sound so devoid of emotion? She wishes she could truly see him, she always used to know what he was feeling with just one look.

Things were gonna be different now.

It started with little changes. First, Y/N had to return to her clan immediately to train her technique. She had to learn to control what she saw before frying her brain. She had to also learn to dominate reverse curse technique.

She wasn’t just a normal time cursed user like the rest of her clan, it wasn’t just freezing or slowing your opponent anymore. A touch from her could now age, could kill. A touch from her could now rebirth, could save.

She was now a weapon. A shield. More importantly, she was the strongest right hand. Space and time always cohabiting with each other.

When she finally came back to school, everything had already changed too much and she couldn’t even bother herself with adapting to the changes, too trouble by the different dreams of the different future outcomes. Of all the choices that hadn’t yet been made but could be, of all their consequences.

She didn’t remember the last time she had spent some time with her best friends, the only person she spent time with lately being Satoru. Satoru, who for some reason she didn’t bother to analyze, always seek her when he finally had time off from a mission. Never leaving her side unless he really had to.

All of them had forever been changed after their failed mission. So, when was it enough?

She hadn’t been there to see Suguru slowly start to lose himself, too focused on Satoru and herself to notice the little clues laid in front of her of the future she had seen yet refused to believed.

Then, she had seen Haibara’s dead body.

She tried to stop it then. Hoping, wishing, it wasn’t too late. She had run to him that night, meeting him on the courtyard of their school as he smoked the night away.

“Please don’t”

He didn’t look at her. Barely inhaled a smoke before letting his gaze fall from the moon, as if its light was too much for him.

“I don’t know what you’ve seen, but I’m not planning anything”

“I know you’re not” she whispers “but I also know what you’ll see. Please don’t leave us behind”

His dark saddened eyes turn to look at her, really look at her and her breath hitches. One of the things she loathes about being able to see the past is the new perspectives she has of those around her. She had always been living her life as the Earth, always rotating around her sun. Never bothering to look at the moon, that always rotated around her.

Satoru was her sun, but Suguru had quietly always been her moon. And she had never once noticed before.

While she was too busy staring lovestruck at Satoru, Suguru had stared at her. But he had always been selfless, and he has always been happy with just gazing from afar, just like she was always happy only staring at Satoru.

This new depth in her technique made it painfully obvious for her the softness in which he gazed at her, even with all the sadness and conflict he carried in them he could still gaze at her with that particular softness. It made her heart ache.

“I would never leave you behind”

It sounded like a promise to anybody else, but to her it was like a blade to her heart. It was one more step to the future she so wanted to avoid.

She sat by his side that night, giving him the comfort of her presence.

On September, he went on the mission to exorcise a spirit to blame for the mysterious deaths and disappearances on a village.

That day he killed 112 villagers. On that day, he was sentenced to execution on sight as a curse user.

She was the first one to arrive when Shoko called, and the smile he gave her was all she needed to confirm her greatest fear. Her heart bled once she saw the soften in his gaze as he saw her, never wavering.

“I’m sorry I have to leave you behind” he whispered once they were far enough from Shoko, “I don’t want to, but I know you won’t follow me”

“We can fix this. I can fix this”

She could. She had the power to. She would do it if he asked, even if it cost her half of her lifetime.

“I don’t want you to” he whispered softly, “I want you to live a long and full life, not to sacrifice it for my own choices”

“You promised…”

“I know, that’s my only regret” he smiled, “You look beautiful. You are beautiful, I’m sorry I never said it before”

“Suguru…”

Both of them stopped as soon as they felt the curse energy of the only one missing from their group.

“Explain yourself, Suguru”

His smile faltered. He looked at her one last time, softly and full of adoration.

“Don’t let him hurt you” he whispered, “Thank you for everything”

And then, Suguru turned around to face his best friend before leaving them all behind. Before leaving everything he once believed in behind.

“What are you doing here?”

It was around 2 am when a knock on your door had woken you up, the last thing you had expected was to see Satoru’s aura on the other side. Since Suguru’s departure your best friend had started going to even more missions then before, making it impossible for you to actually see him for more than a few minutes.

You hadn’t really expected to see him soon, much less at the current time.

“May I come in?”

His tone is low, with no hint of a joke in it, which makes you open your door wide enough for him to cross without hesitating in the slightest.

Honestly, he could ask anything from you and you’d give it to him. No questions asked.

She feels him move to the middle of her room as she closes the door, his feet drawing circles on the floor showing the anxiety he must be feeling.

“I didn’t know you were back”

“I just came” he murmurs, “I’m sorry for barging in, I just—I needed to see you”

Y/N’s breath hitches and her heart throbs loudly in her chest. It was weird, the feeling of drowning that she had become so familiar with was slowly disappearing, as if just the sound of his voice was enough to remind her how to swim. Enough to help her breathe again.

She had been alone all this time. Shoko had been dealing with the abandonment in her own way by herself, only coming to her when the loneliness became too much. When that happened, Y/N had to ignore her own broken pieces to help hold those of her best friend. And once she was sure Shoko was well enough to go back to her own cave, she was left alone to take on both of their pain to bear it all by herself.

She wasn’t one to walk away, not unless she absolutely had to leave. But all she had needed all this time was to hear Satoru’s voice to remember the strength she possessed.

“You wanna lay down?”

He sees his aura move towards her bed, making her know he agreed to her suggestion.

With a deep breath, Y/N moves to join him. It wasn’t the first time they had ever slept on the same bed, they had tons of sleepovers as kids.

But this was different. They were older and wiser. They knew pain firsthand now. They also knew what the other really meant to one another, and how precious each moment together truly was. How ephemeral everything could be.

So as Satoru pulled her closer to him as he hugged her from behind, both of them felt the tension they had been carrying leave their bodies.

After so long, Satoru finally felt at peace once again. The void that had been his heart all this time felt completed. He could finally breathe without feeling something pushing against his chest.

That was the first time in a while he truly slept.

There truly was no reason for Y/N to love him, so Satoru didn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky. After Haibara’s death and Suguru’s betrayal, after Nanami’s abandonment, Satoru truly didn’t think he was someone worth staying for.

But Y/N never once left his side. Never even thought about it. It didn’t matter that she had spent ten years loving him without even a glimpse of him reciprocating said feelings, she had stayed.

He loved her, he truly did. He just didn’t know what being in love meant or felt like, so he couldn’t say he was in love with her. All he knew, as he stared at her right now while she said her goodbye to Yuta, was that knowing her had changed his whole world.

He had once asked her a few years back why she loved him. She had stayed quiet for a few minutes before finally answering in her soft voice that she reserved just for him.

“You just know. There doesn’t have to be a particular reason. I don’t think you need a reason to love someone, your heart chooses them before your mind even has a say. It’s something you can’t really control, it just takes over you. It hits you when you least expect it. You feel alive, you feel better; I don’t think it’s something anybody will truly understand, and they don’t have to. It’s not something meant to be understood by others, only by your heart”

He hadn’t said anything after her. Hadn’t even smiled or nodded. All he had done was stare at her and repeat every single word in his mind over and over again, until they had been engraved in his memory.

Those words were repeated like a mantra whenever he needed something to give him hope, something to fight for.

Those words along with the memories of the hundreds of nights they looked for refugee in each other’s arms were the inhaler that helped him breathe. He had never truly known what a real home felt like until she had held him with so much care, care he hadn’t ever truly known; care that made him feel like a kid needing to be cared for instead of the strongest everybody expected him to be.

He was grateful for her. For every time she made him feel loved and appreciated. For every moment she stared at him as if he was the moon and the stars and the whole galaxy. For helping him raise Tsumiki and Megumi without ever complaining about it. For helping him mend his broken heart even when the broken pieces scarred her hands until they bled.

He didn’t know if he was in love with her, he just knew that he did love her with all his heart and soul.

And as she finally started walking towards him after letting go of Yuta, with her bright smile that made her whitened eyes crinkle, it finally hit him. She was the person he wanted to come home to every night. The person he wants to tell about his day. The person to share his happiness, his sadness, his success and his failures with.

Everything was better with her. Everything had been better since her, because of her.

She who had loved the parts of him that were not easy to love. For turning the pages in his book gently, and helping him rewrite a happy ending to his tragic narrative.

Y/N was like a book the you couldn’t put down once you pick it up. The kind of girl that would make every bad boy turn good. A shelter for his heart when it rained. A breath of fresh air whenever he felt like drowning.

She was everything and so much more and he truly didn’t know how to tell her. He was never good at expressing how he felt, he was of an acts of service guy. So how could he show you how much you truly meant to him? How much he really needed you? How much he loved you?

“…ru. Satoru. Satoru!” His gaze snaps towards you, seeing you look at him with amusement, “I’ve been calling you nonstop. A penny for your thoughts?”

Don’t ever stop smiling at me. Don’t ever stop looking at me. Don’t ever leave me.

“Ready to go home?”

He can see the confused frown on her face, but her smile is never wiped and that gives him hope of her understanding the underlying message on his words.

Home was wherever she was. So wherever she went, he would follow. He wanted to go home with her, because he wanted to hold her and never let her go. He wanted to be the reason for her smiles and the ones she chose to share her laughs with.

He wanted everything.

“Let’s go home, ‘toru”

He may have been cursed since birth, but it was all worth it if he had you.

[[ Really not my best work but my first Gojo One-Shot. Hope you all like it! I’m open to requests. Thank you for reading!!]]

[thankskenpenders]

There’s been some discussions on Twitter recently about if Blaze’s dimension is worth keeping around and expanding on or if it should be ignored/merged with Sonic’s world thanks to a Bumblekast clip. What are your thoughts on Blaze’s dimension as a story-telling hurdle/ alternate setting? I personally feel like it wouldn’t make a difference if Blaze was a princess from another dimension or a princess from the other side of the world, it would just be easier for her to show up if she wasn’t from another dimension, but I also think it’s be neat to expand on Blaze’s world as a parallel to Sonic’s.

I think there's a whole cottage industry of Sonic fans who just like to take things Ian says out of context so they can rile people up on Twitter, and the fandom falls for it every time, and it's extremely tiring

But also I think Ian is right

This isn't something I've really shared, but I actually have a document where I've kept ideas for what I would do with a hypothetical modern reboot of Archie Sonic where I'm allowed to start from scratch and change anything I want. (I might share some of this someday, perhaps with some character designs, but for now it's just a thing for me. It's not like I'm gonna do a comic or anything.) For Blaze, I immediately decided that all of the elements from the Sol Dimension should be merged with the regular Mobius. I would just say that Sonic and friends have all their adventures on one hemisphere of the planet, and Blaze is from the other. I mean, the Sol Dimension already has a heavy Australia/Oceania vibe. It'd be really easy. This way, there would still be some level of separation, and Blaze would still have her own territory where she gets to be the main hero, but it'd be WAY easier to actually use those elements. Characters can just show up on whatever part of the planet they need to be on for any given story

For some reason people seem to think that Blaze being from a separate dimension isn't a storytelling hurdle at all, and I really don't know what franchise they're following, because it sure as hell isn't the version of Sonic I know. Yes, in theory it could be as simple as just using a warp ring to hop over to the Sol Dimension whenever. There are ways to write around it. I'd love to see that happen so that we could flesh out Blaze's world some more. Give Blaze some more allies and villains of her own! Give her more to do over there, and more reasons for Sonic and co. to visit! But clearly Sega isn't down with that, considering the Sol Dimension has only ever been in one game and, what, two issues of the IDW comics for maybe ten pages total? Sega's just sitting on it, and it's impossible not to see the fact that it's a whole separate dimension as the reason.

Even if we were getting more stories about traveling to and from the Sol Dimension, it'd still be a hassle. You want to use the Chaotix in a story in the Sol Dimension? Wanna use Marine or Johnny or whoever in a story set on the main world? Well, you'd better think up an airtight excuse for why those characters are traveling between the dimensions and pray that Sega approves of it. And right now that seems to be one hell of an obstacle, given how little we see of the Sol Dimension even though I know damn well Ian and Evan would love to explore it more. It's gotten to the point that Blaze is now on an endless "vacation" on Sonic's Earth so that they can actually use her in stories. People have been acting like merging the worlds would completely take away everything that makes Blaze special as a character, when it would just make all of her personal story stuff infinitely easier to work with than it is right now.

"Oh but what about the Sol Emeralds?" There's no reason the Sol Emeralds couldn't exist on the same planet as the Chaos Emeralds. We've already got other magic rocks like the Time Stones, the Phantom Ruby, and the Warp Topaz. "But what about Eggman Nega?" I could not give less of a shit about what happens to Eggman Nega and Sega doesn't even use him anymore, but also he's already supposed to be from Silver's future, not the Sol Dimension. "But what about the plot of Sonic Rush where the whole point was that they had to stop the worlds from being merged because they thought it was a bad thing?" Yes, because Sonic has always been a series that treated canon as sacred an immutable, and Sega would never do something that contradicted a game from almost 20 years ago

Anyway, all of this is a moot point. It's not like this is going to happen. Ian just brought up the possibility on the BumbleKast as an "if I could change literally anything" type deal. Sega is not going to do this. He is allowed to have his own opinions on Sonic things without fans having to take it personally and scream and cry about it. You don't have to agree with him on everything. I've certainly had points I disagree with him on! It's fine! That's normal! He's only human. Yes, Ian is on the Lore Team, but he's just one voice in the room. He's not even the boss of that team. If Ian could get whatever he wanted, we'd have seen the Freedom Fighters and Sticks by now

[frannyzooey]

The Dinner

Marcus Moreno x f!college reader

The Secret Universe

Rating: Explicit, Daddy Kink™ (seriously, like a lot)

A/N: I have many people to thank for this one: @imaswellkid @the-ginger-hedge-witch @whatsnewalycat @obiknights and the amazing @the-scandalorian - every single one of them gave me the most amazing advice, but also gave me endless reassurance when I needed it, and I could never thank them enough. Sometimes it really takes a village ❤

--

“How is stats this semester? Need any help?” 

You take a slow sip of your ice water, listening. 

“It’s okay,” Missy replies. “Better, now that I signed up for tutoring during my free period, which — “ she points her fork at her father, who currently has a slightly smug expression on his face, “— totally sucks. I know you said it would help, and it did, but at what cost, dad?”

His shoulders move as he huffs a laugh and he pokes around his dinner plate, spearing some roasted broccoli. Shrugging, he glances at you. “Is a couple of hours a week impacting your guys' social life that bad?”

“No, sir,” you answer with a polite smile. 

The title slips off your tongue with ease, and his playful expression falters for a moment. 

Clearing his throat, he shifts in his chair. “That’s what I thought.” 

He takes a swallow of his water — a small sip, then a larger one — and the three of you continue to eat. 

The dining room where you sit is seldom used, but cozy. The lighting dim but inviting, the sparse surface of the table lends it a more formal appearance and you think about how much you would have preferred to eat at the table in the kitchen. The one you passed earlier, cluttered with mail, magazines, keys, and other things that never really have any other home than a flat surface in the kitchen. 

Eating there would have made you feel more at ease. Eating here makes you feel more like a guest. And with Marcus at the head of the table, the formality of the seating arrangement pulls at you: a constant reminder of who he is. 

Forks slide against plates, glasses being set down with a muted thud on the wooden surface of the table and when Missy reaches for another bread roll, a glance over at him has you noticing his body language.  

He’s looking everywhere but you – at a painting on the wall, at his half eaten plate, at the condensation gathering on his glass. He lets his hand rest around the glass, his thumb swiping through the water and a thrumming, heady pulse that Missy seems oblivious to grows until it fills the space between your chairs. 

Swallowing, you place your elbow on the table near his own. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and his attention turns back to Missy. 

“What else is new?” he asks. “I never hear from you anymore. The room still okay? The bed still make that funny noise?”

Missy frowns, holding a bite of chicken aloft in front of her mouth. “How did you know about that?” 

Marcus sits up straight, shifting again in his chair and opening his mouth as if getting ready to speak, but Missy interrupts him. 

“Oh yea, it was there on move in day,” she remembers. “Whatever. No, we got that tool kit out that you gave me at the beginning of the year and fixed it yesterday. A real girl boss moment.”

She looks over at you and grins, and you return it despite the rapid beat of your heart.

“Yea,” you add, not allowing your eyes to stray from her face. “You killed it.”

You can feel his eyes on you, aware out of the corner of your eye how they slide down your frame and back up again. Whether he’s conscious of it or not, he’s been doing it all night and you want nothing more than to return the look, but you don’t. 

“You ladies have any plans for the weekend?” Marcus asks. 

Missy nods, excitement filling her eyes. “Yea, I think so? I got laundry and stuff to catch up on, but there is this party tomorrow night I wanna go to. I got a text about it earlier, I think it’s around 8ish?”

A small frown appears between Marcus’s brows. “Where’s it at? Around here?”

“Yea, I think so? I’m not really sure. I’ll have to look up the address or something.”

He doesn’t like that answer, you can tell by the way his frown doesn’t go away and you chance a peek at his face while he’s distracted. A pulsing beat gathers between your thighs, at both the sternness of his expression but also the care behind it. 

“Well,” he continues, taking another bite of dinner. “Let me know, okay? I’ll drop you off and pick you up.”

“Dad,” Missy playfully whines. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He rolls his eyes, stretching his legs out under the table and when one of his knees knocks into yours, you still. 

His eyes glance down, a short, apologetic smile showing briefly in your direction but he doesn’t move it. It stays there, his leg shifting just enough to press against yours with intent and as the dinner goes on, you resist the urge to smile. 

–

You met them both for the first time on move-in day. 

Cars lined along the driveway to the dorms with their trunks crammed full of new bedding and boxes and the bare essentials for kitchens and showers, you noticed them right away. 

Missy, true to the picture she emailed you weeks ago when introducing herself as your new roommate, and Marcus, when he stepped around the side of the car to open the trunk. Close-cropped dark hair shone browner in the sun, the strands neatly combed into place, yet slightly curled with the humidity. His shirt stretched tight across his wide shoulders, tucked neatly into dress pants that fit him perfectly. The fabric pulled across his back when he leaned forward to reach in for the first boxes and when Missy shouted your name, he turned around. 

You had to pull your eyes away from his face to greet her with a shy smile. 

He stuck around the entire morning – making sure the lofts were set up correctly, helping move furniture, his kind, good humored eyes on his daughter as he took in her first day at college. He offered to take the two of you out to lunch in celebration, but before you could reply, Missy shooed him away. 

“We’re gonna go grab a coffee or something. Get to know each other. You can get outta here, dad. Thanks for the help.”

You could tell she genuinely meant it, but the paltry thanks wasn’t enough in your opinion. He had already done more than your parents had ever done for you, and you wondered what it was like to grow up in a house where it happened so often you took it for granted. Your parents hadn’t even bothered to give you a ride on your first day, you had taken the bus with your meager boxes. 

He humored her, giving her a soft smile and when he turned to say goodbye to you, you made sure to hold his gaze when you thanked him. 

“Not a problem,” he replied sincerely. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

–

The two of them clear the plates while you grab what you can from the table, and it’s apparent that they have their own shorthand method of communication with each other. She clears, he starts the dishwater. She empties scraps into the trash to stack plates neatly by the sink, and when you help her, his eyes linger on your mouth when he turns to say thank you. 

A routine that had never taken place in your own home, you revel in the roles everyone plays. The comfort of them, the domesticity. You imagine the two of them doing this every night before Missy left for college, and the mental image of Marcus standing at the sink with his t-shirt stretched over the strong muscles of his back warms you from the inside out. Even more when you think about him reminding Missy to clear her place, or asking her what she wants in her lunch tomorrow. 

The qualities of a dad: one who does because he cares, but also guides. 

Done clearing, Missy leaves the room, the telltale sound of the washer door opening down the hall, and Marcus stills at the sink, listening. 

“Listen, don’t jam it all in there like last time, okay?” he warns, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. “You can do more than one load. No rush, Missy, okay?”

“Yea, yea, I got it,” she yells back, and he sighs, shaking his head. You meet his eye in a knowing look, and the corner of his lips pulls up in a rueful smile. 

“She almost broke it last time, trying to fit about a month of clothes in all at once.”

You laugh, and nod. “She does that at the dorm too.” 

He shakes his head, pushing his hands into the water. 

“You don’t need to use those machines — either of you. You’re always welcome to come over and do it here,” he offers, searching in the sudsy water for a plate. Finding it, he begins scrubbing it with a rag. “Either of you. Even if she can’t come, you can.”

A pause.

“Anytime you want.”

The invitation hangs between the two of you in the silence, and you keep your eyes on his forearms as they flex above the suds. A sudden, unbidden image of them flexing between your thighs flashes through your mind, the weight of his fingers felt inside you. 

His voice lowers. “We could even plan it that way, so we don’t have to keep…“

He gives you a knowing look, and guilt gnaws at you as you listen to Missy hum in the next room.  

“It’s not that I don’t want that,” you explain, your voice keeping quiet. “I just don’t want…” Uncertainty flashes across your features and when you look up, you find that he’s already looking at you. 

“Don’t want what?” he asks. 

Unsure how to put your fear into words, you hesitate. Moving your meetings to his house somehow makes them more of an offense in your mind. In the space he shares with his daughter; their family home. 

The duality of the man standing next to you has been messing with you all night: the Marcus that stands beside you now versus the Marcus that you know. The unassuming, kind face of a good father masking the hooded lust you know his eyes contain. The strength held in his arms when he takes the trash out; the flex of them under your bare knees when he spreads you wide. His plush bottom lip in a soft smile for his daughter; the same pressing against your skin, your mouth, between your legs. 

A secret shadow follows him around constantly, fleeting slices of the man you know appearing if you watch him long enough. His throaty laugh, the spread of his thighs on the couch, the flex of his jaw.

Seeing him here in his kitchen or at the head of the dining room table has the men merging in your mind despite your ability, until now, to keep them separate. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth, thinking. 

“Don’t want what?” he repeats, softer this time, tenderness curling around the words and you’re about to answer when Missy walks back into the kitchen. 

“Hey, you don’t have to help him with that. I got it.”

He stands taller, shifting away from you and you back up from the sink, making room for her. She immediately scoops a delicate mound of bubbles and flicks them at Marcus, laughing when he grimaces with a chuckle. The teasing makes you smile.

He’s so good with her — so patient, and kind, and attentive. So genuinely invested in her answers in a way you’d never experienced, and though you are happy for your best friend in that she has such a doting parent, you’d be lying if you said a little jealousy never crept into your heart when you watched them. 

Not because you wanted either of them to choose you, but because they so clearly had each other. Someone to depend on; a traditional parental/child relationship full of trust and respect and love. 

You watch them for a moment as they work in tandem, their mannerisms similar from behind. 

“I’m gonna take a shower before bed,” you announce, and excusing yourself from the room, you leave them to finish the dishes. 

—

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.”

Down the hall from his room and across from Missy’s, the guest bedroom door clicks shut quietly in the dark. The shuffle of sheets whispering as you shift to make room for him in the bed, the mattress dips when he joins you, the heat of his body felt close. His hands reach for you, pulling you closer and there are no other words spoken as his mouth meets yours, deepening the kiss immediately. 

His tongue slides against your own, your taste familiar and maddeningly addictive, and he groans deeply into it, rolling you onto your back. 

Beneath the solid weight of his body is your favorite place – secure, safe, desired, wanted. Trapped between the soft bed and the scent of his warm skin, his mouth takes and takes and takes from yours until you’re drunk with arousal beneath him, wanting to stay there forever. 

“I wanted you so bad at dinner,” he breathes in a low confession. “So fucking bad, even when you walked through the door.”

Every one of his words is matched with a weighted grind of his hips into the cradle of your thighs, and you roll right back against him, a soft sound catching in your throat at the delicious pressure. There is something that makes you weak about his voice in general, but when he swears – especially in his desperation to express how much he’s wanted you – it lights a path straight from your ears to your center; need blooming fierce and bright.

You would tell him how much you thought about him just as much if his mouth didn’t immediately cover yours again, and pushing your fingers through his close-cropped dark hair, you match his urgency. Your knees hitch higher around his broad torso, your thighs tightening with every flex of your hips up and the stiff length of his cock underneath his sleep pants fits perfectly along the damp seam darkening your underwear. 

You can feel the thick ridge of it, aching for the filling heft as he grinds his hips against you again and again, and whimpering for more underneath him, the words slip out. 

“Please, daddy.”

He stills for a split second, breaking the kiss as a shudder slips through him and a wash of embarrassed heat floods your face, but it’s quickly replaced with arousal when he groans as if in pain, his furrowed brow pressed into the plane of your chest. 

His hand splays against your side to keep you in place with a pained press of his fingers. “Jesus Christ, baby, you can’t — you can’t say things like that. Please. Please.”

“But I want it,” you whisper. 

You do. You’ve wanted it ever since you met him, just knowing by looking at him that he would give you what you need. So thoughtful, so considerate and kind, so attentive and warm but also very much a man – a handsome, understated man with needs that showed clear on his face every time you met him after that first time. 

The second, third, fourth time you met him, the flicker of interest in his dark brown eyes. 

The magnetic, heady pulse of attraction that filled the small room when he showed up once while Missy was at class. 

The lunch that he invited you to instead of her, and the undivided attention he gave you from across the table. The way he reminded you to buckle your seatbelt, and the way you leaned over and kissed him when he waited a beat too long reluctantly saying goodbye outside your dorm, on the street.  

That first, tentative kiss after he followed you back to your room at the reassurance Missy had classes that afternoon, and the frown furrowed between his brows, both at how wrong it was to want this and relief at finally giving in. 

The soft cotton of your sheets sliding against your bare back, the way his body seemed too big for the narrow twin. 

His giving mouth, soothing guidance rumbled in his deep voice. 

Something that’s taken root in your mind with every time he brings you to bed, you don’t know how else to describe how you want to be tucked into his side to be made felt safe and secure, while also fucked deep into the mattress until you’re sobbing with fullness. 

Being here with him has made the need for it unbearable, and what you do know is that no matter what you want, he’ll give it to you. 

Your confession is a quiet one that lingers in the air and he looks up, his doleful, brown eyes finding yours. They stay there, searching for the truth and when he finds it in your slightly ashamed expression, he pulls himself up until you are face to face. 

“Yea?” he asks, soothing stray hairs at your temple. “You want a daddy?”

The word gives him pause, but his cock hardens painfully against the cool sheets and when you nod, the vulnerability shown on your face is so open that he finds himself mirroring it, wanting to soothe. 

He not only understands but wants, so very badly.  

“Okay, okay,” he agrees. The tension in your body drains as you soften underneath him; pliant and moldable for his needs. “Say it again, baby.”

“Daddy,” you whisper in a relieved rush, your plush lips parting only just. 

His hooded eyes watch the word slip from your mouth, and his thumb skates along the plump cushion of your bottom lip, before pushing just inside. He slides his thumb over the wet muscle of your tongue, letting you suck on it. 

Bright need swells and aches between his thighs, your soft, lush skin slipping against his as you squirm in need underneath him and he slips his thumb from your mouth before pressing his lips to yours with a rough kiss. 

Desperate to feel the clutch of your tight, wet cunt, he reaches down to open you up for him, his hand slipping beneath your panties and his fingers sliding with a familiar swipe through your soaked curls. He finds the dip where you need him most, your arousal soaking the pads of his competent touch and his breathing quickens, his eyes flitting between your face and his cotton covered hand. 

The same fingers that made dinner, that queued up the movie, that clasped under his chin when he listened to Missy talk. The same ones that held the steering wheel in a loose grip as he drove you to the store.

They’ve slid into your mouth before, and then your cunt. Brushed against the puckered rim of your asshole, swirled with divine pressure over your clit, and filled you to the brim until you cried out, your cunt a snug slip around them. 

Two fill you now with an urgent slide, the action making him swallow the soft catch of your whine and the ease in which he slips them in and out is aided by how wet and ready you are for him. 

Always so wet; his perfect girl.

“When you called me ‘sir’ at the dinner table,” he pants, nuzzling the bridge of his nose along your jaw as he looks down at his hand. Your thighs open wider for him, and you softly moan, chasing the thick fill of his fingers. “I almost fucking lost it. So sweet. So sweet, baby.” 

“Just – just for you.” Your brow furrowed in pleasure, you chase what he’s building inside you, your small hand slipping down to cover his larger one. Your fingers push over his, guiding him as if he needs it, and the both of you get lost in the slick, consuming motion; his eyes glued on your parted mouth. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to say it. The daddy thing, I –”

“Don’t be sorry. No, fuck. Don’t be sorry, baby. I wanna hear it. I want it.”

His soothing words wash over you, your cunt accepting him deeper as he adds a third finger and before he gives you time to adjust, he’s slipping them from your wet heat, sliding them into his mouth with a suck. He groans with a frown, his lashes dark against his face as his eyes flutter shut and he shifts abruptly down the bed. 

His fingers grip the band of your underwear and tug them roughly down your legs before the width of his shoulders forces your knees apart. The heat of his mouth felt in a humid gust against your spread, bared seam, he tugs you tight to his face, and the emptiness left by the sudden absence of his fingers is immediately replaced with his thick, eager tongue. 

“Marcus!”

His whiskered cheeks brushing roughly against the tender skin on the inside of your thighs, he devours your cunt, his back flexing as he nearly pushes you up the bed in his hunger if not for the way his hands curl around the top of your thighs to hold you in place.  

“Shhh, baby. Shhh,” he reminds you, and you let out a quiet sob, clasping your hand over your mouth. 

He’s so much, a sensory overload being amplified by the darkness around you: the needy grip of his large hands, the slick slide of his tongue, the muffled groans he’s letting out between your legs. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he breathes, his mouth dragging damply over the inside of your thigh with a thick kiss before he licks your clit with the flat of his tongue. He slides it from side to side with pressure, a motion that makes you bow off the bed. 

Mindless with pleasure, you’re overcome with the need to anchor yourself to something — the direct attention is so much, too much — and your hands fist the sheets, your back arching. 

“I washed it just for you, daddy.”

You should be embarrassed but all traces of shame are turned to cinder the second he groans deep and loud, the sound muffled by the way he immediately buries his face with an open mouthed kiss. It’s messy and decadent, his tongue pushing inside you and then it swipes lower. 

Your hips jolt up to meet it; his low, satisfied groan sounding between your cheeks. 

“Fuck,” you whine, the tip of his tongue pressing against the tight ring of muscle before he flattens it to lick a wide, wet stripe from the seam of your ass all the way to your clit. Another one, before he gives your soaked entrance a hungry kiss and the pressure of his face being buried so deep makes you grind against him, your hips moving in time with his, as he seeks his own relief against the sheets. 

“I’m gonna — I’m gonna fucking come. Daddy, you’re gonna make me come.” 

It’s a plea if he’s ever heard one, and he zeroes his focus in on your clit — circling it with his tongue before giving it a light suck. He keeps going as you thread your fingers into his hair with a tug, keeps going as you press your lips together to try to stifle your moans, and keeps going when your thighs tense around his cheeks and you come with a breathless whimper; his tongue swiping hungrily through the salt of your release.

All tension in your body gone, he kisses a path slowly up your body while you lay and catch your breath – up over the top of your thigh, the rounded curve of your hip, the soft, plush underside of your breast. 

He cradles you to his chest, tugging you onto your side as his mouth drags along the line of your neck. He kisses a path over the skin and your hips shift, seeking his out. He can feel you squirming, looking for relief and bellies together, he rolls you onto your back, your hands working together to push his pajama bottoms down and off. 

Your touch is back to frantic as he pulls from your mouth, his hands cradling the sides of your head to keep you in place as he gets his fill and you wind your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push inside. 

He does – a motion that makes your moan get lost underneath his deeper one – and the snap of his hips is immediate and hard, the filling weight of his cock pushing the air from your lungs. 

His lips kiss your closed eyelids, his tongue sweeping over the salt rimmed lashes where a tear lingers and his mouth finds the fragrant, soft skin below your ear. His lips press against it, his mustache tickling you, the roll of his hips never ceasing. 

“You’re being so good for daddy. So good.”

Your eyes open and find his, and he throbs with how sincerely vulnerable you look underneath him right now, desperate to know you’re being good. 

“You’re such a good girl. Always letting me fuck you the way I want. Always letting me take care of you, like you take care of me.” His lips find the corner of your mouth, the delicacy of the kiss in contrast with the way you have to dig your nails into his broad back to hang on as he fucks you harder and he pulls back just enough to look at your face.

“You’re so good, aren’t you, baby. Aren’t you.”

It’s not a question for you to answer, but rather a statement he needs you to confirm and you nod, a tiny frown of pleasure appearing between your brows as you shift rhythmically underneath him. 

“My baby,” he murmurs, catching your mouth in a deep kiss. “My baby.” 

Your hand trails down the line of his spine and splays over his tailbone, sweat beading along the skin as he fills, fills, fills and you widen your thighs, digging your fingers into the swell of his ass to force him deeper. 

“Please, daddy. Please.”

His hips shift into a slow, weighted grind when you beg using those words. He never pulls all the way out, rather forcing himself so deep into the heart of you that you tremble with the need to come underneath him. 

“You’re so fucking pretty. So pretty when you’re gonna come.”

His praise fills you with light from the inside out, pouring out through your sweat damp skin where it’s flush with his own and another tear slips free; your release both a bright, shining edge that he’s guiding you towards and a strong, powerful current that threatens to pull you under. 

“Give it to me.” 

His voice is husky and strained, a quiet plea for you to let go and when you do with a silent cry, the deep dimpled smile on his face is a proud one, equal parts awe and lust. 

He follows shortly after, the tight, wet clutch of your cunt too much for him – but it’s your relieved face that makes him spend every ounce inside you with slow, smooth strokes until there is nothing left. You look so light underneath him, so content and drowsy and drunk with relief. 

He can’t help himself when he bends to kiss the tear track that runs over your temple, giving you another kiss on the apple of your cheek. 

“So good. You were so good.”

You’re so spent you can’t even kiss him back, rather letting him gently nudge you to meet his mouth and even then you let him take what he needs from your kiss swollen lips, opening up for him when his mouth demands it. 

Eventually he shifts, just enough to settle beside you rather than on top, but you automatically follow the heat of his body, curling into his chest. 

“There’s, uh —” he starts, closing his eyes. You watch the thud of his pulse under the tanned skin of his neck. He licks his plush lips, trying to catch his breath. “There’s milk and cereal — or eggs, if you want those in the morning. I didn’t know what you guys would want, so I —“

Your quiet laugh stops him and he looks down at you, smiling when he sees your expression. 

“Are you really telling me about my breakfast options, like some kinda guest?”

“Yea, I guess I am,” he grins. “But you are a special guest in this house,” he replies, tugging you closer. His mouth finds the curve of your collarbone, his smile felt against the skin there. “Especially for me.”

“Guests really get the full treatment here, huh,” you tease. “Dinner, laundry, breakfast, their ass eate—“

You can almost feel his blush in the dark, his fingers immediately digging into your side to stop your sentence, and your stifled giggles fill the dark room but he doesn’t let up until you’re squirming underneath him, breathlessly begging him to stop. 

“What?” you laugh, trying to keep quiet. “I liked that part of the turn down service.”

He grins, the knowing smile of a pleased man who is well aware he did good. He leans in, putting his mouth by your ear. 

“Good to know. Maybe tomorrow the service will include it again.” He pulls back and winks, leaning back in to give you a quick, full kiss. 

“I wish I could stay, but I better get back to my room.”

“I know.”

“See you in the morning?” he asks, so soft and mussed and hopeful yet grown; his voice low and husky. His eyes are soft with affection, his unwavering gaze showing that he genuinely wants to make sure you’re okay before he leaves. 

His hand cradles the curve of your cheek, his thumb swiping along the line of your cheekbone and you tilt to press a kiss against the heel of it. Relief like you haven’t ever known floods through you, but more than that is what you feel underneath that earnest gaze. 

Safe, secure. In both yourself, and what you mean to him. 

“Yea. See you in the morning.”

He smiles, bending to place a delicate, warm kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

You sigh with contentment. 

“Goodnight, daddy.”