#‘what if they fade and look bad later-‘

[rambles-on-dragon-age]

Solas also continually operates in small cells that can't be traced back to him and sent the freed slaves about their business. Why would he keep his slave army wrapped around himself at all times. That doesn't make sense. There's a banter where he explains to Sera how he works, after all. They're either freed and doing what they want or acting as his spies; we learned that much during Trespasser. He's not going to make them work for him and frankly he probably started working more and more alone and just using the information the spies give him. They still work for him in the Missing Collection and I think mentioned in Tevinter Nights that's part of how he's keeping tabs on the Inquisitor and friends. He sees some stuff in dreams but that's not the extent of everything he knows and how much stuff he's keeping track of. The point of them being spies is moot if you know who and where they are after all. :)

Now you're confusing "bad writing" for "suspension of belief so the story can continue" and "quality of life is important to move the game narrative forward". The Blight changing and acting different and being a tool of the Evanuris was a major plot point; they can't have characters shying away from it "for the realisms lol"

The Wardens say, repeatedly, that everyone is infected at different rates. Even if Rook & Co got "just a scratch" and were infected, they could reasonably survive that infection for weeks/months before Antoine and Evka went rogue and performed the Joining on them like they've been shown to do/offer to other people that are infected.

But that's not conducive to the story. Like @postcardsfromheapside said, the Inquisitor & Co mucked about in tons of red lyrium and yet never got infected nor affected. You know. Like basically everyone else was re: Cory's army and the people mining it. Would it have made story sense for the Quizzie and friends to fall to the lyrium before the end? No. So they aren't infected/affected by it.

Rook keeps fighting these huge dragons? Uh, yeah. Rook and Co. fights exactly ONE dragon that was blighted, realized they probably couldn't kill it and were lucky to hurt it, and then went out and hired a dragon killing specialist to help them with that dragon and its friend when it comes back. Quality of life team building won't lock you to needing Taash every time you fight a dragon, but they are considered side bosses for the most part that are completely optional.

As for Minrathous falling, yeah it's not the dragon that takes down the city. The Floating Attack Palace is focused on the dragon, it's the murderous nationalist death cult killing the leaders while they were distracted fighting the dragon, taking over the city, and routing out the Shadow Dragons and later the Threads as those are the people still standing against them. If Rook is distracting the dragon so the Murder Palace isn't focused on it, then the magisters could focus on the death cult knocking down their door instead. No one's invincible, especially when the Ventatori also have powerful blood mages. Their focus is split, they fall. Their focus not split, they could defend themselves.

And, again. Bellara acting hateful and distrustful would have been out of character for her. If you want a Mean Dalish Bellara instead of Sweet Veil Jumper Scientist Bellara, write one for yourself. She wasn't written badly, that scene was written exactly right for her character. You are trapped in the bubble with her, the only person that can take it down, and she knows it. You are in the palm of her hand. Also ? If you were going to kill her you could do so on sight. You'd still be trapped in fade bubble prison until you die one way or another. (And yeah, that look she gives you at first reeks of distrust until you tell her who sent you. :) You know her leader and didn't attack on sight. Not the behaviors of evil Tevinter mages or bad humans.)

You're looking at the previous games through years of nostalgia and with rose-colored glasses. All that "rich, cultural atmosphere" is similarly shallow in every single one of them if you don't take the time to delve into the extra content the game offers.

Frankly, it feels like 90% of our time is spent in fantasy Britain's mudhole because we've spent so much time in Ferelden and when we got to Kirkwall it's similarly shitty. There's even memes about how awful and dragging the Hinterlands is. That's not dense or rich, it's literally the same place over and over again. Are you confusing fantasy racism and oppression being rubbed into your face extensively for all that dense culture? Is that the dense culture you're missing? Is it the brief glimpses we get of the Deep Roads and Dalish elves? Is that the rich culture? (You know, the stuff we see again in Veilguard. We even get to explore TWO Dwarven areas! Not counting the Fade one. There's so much cool shit to explore in Veilguard I'm never going to get tired of looking around for more details.)

This is the exact same world, the exact same setting, and we're being shown all these places we've only ever heard of. They're no longer just a name in passing, they're real places and we can see them and their architecture and the types of people that live there and how the weather is different and how the people are different and their different styles of dress and different foods and EVERYTHING. It's that environmental storytelling thing the game does very well and it's SO COOL. The maps had to be more compact but they're absolutely jam packed with puzzles, people, visuals, codex entries, etc... You're calling it shallow because what, they didn't add 500 codex entries from past games rehashing the same exact things we've already done three times before? We've been there, done that, learned it, we're doing something new now!

I thought you missed the context and content in the game but I'm steadily realizing that maybe you just flagrantly ran past it at full speed with your fingers in your ears and screaming because you think hating on this game is cool at this point in time. Gods forbid you take anything from this game at all besides regurgitating the same tired complaints that showed you approached this game hating it and didn't bother giving it a chance because "It's not like the other games!!"

a really cool part about dragon age veilguard is the first scene where you meet bellara, especially if you're a shadowdragon mage and you have neve with you

so to set the scene: bellara, the dalish elf who's devoted her life to the conservation, discovery and protection of her people's lost and ancient history, meets two strangers, two tevinter mages, in sacred arlathan. They tell her, hey your gods are back in the world but also they suck and we gotta kill them, and instead of telling them "fuck off you vile enslaving shem, you defile this land with your presence" like most normal dalish, not only does she instantly believe them that her gods are bad for some reason, they're back among the people and need to be stopped, she also happily starts telling them all kinds of secrets and valuable knowledge about ancient elven magic and is even so kind to, without question, take them on a grand tour of this very historically important and sacred ruin in arlathan to find a truly priceless artifact, a one of a kind archive of ancient elven knowledge thought lost forever, because really, what could these unknown tevinter mages possible want with that!

...

are these writers smoking crack?? is that it? theyre smoking crack??

[quarterlifekitty]

Another installation of the MonsterHunter!AU

Context: a baku is a demon/yokai that eats bad dreams. It has a lot of depictions, often in modern times its design is loosely based on the Malayan tapir. So I picture reader as being a tapir girl, with the cute ears, and some teeny tusks. And that really cute mottling that baby tapirs have bc it’s my post and I do what I want. But she can look however you like, really.

While Price often takes killing bounties, Ghost is a bit less picky. He doesn’t mind capturing monsters alive and delivering them to the highest bidder.

Lately, there’s been a trend amount the local nobles. Get a baku, and it will eat your child’s bad dreams, they say. So demand is high. These people don’t know that a baku can also eat your hopes and ambitions if it isn’t well fed on nightmares, but Ghost doesn’t really care to inform them.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy job— be back before dinner. But things often don’t go to plan in this line of work. If you can manage to find a baku, capture is easy. They don’t have a means of really defending themselves, and they��re docile by nature. Ghost doesn’t realize how attractive such a thing is to other bounty hunters.

He doesn’t even tie your hands when he finds you. Baku are not stupid. You know he’s faster and stronger than you are. The rival bounty hunters throwing a weighted net over you don’t realize this.

He spends half the day taking them down one by one as you’re dragged behind them in the forest. Not enough time to travel back to the guild, he has to camp out. Ghost uses his knife to cut you loose. Out of precaution, he draws his symbol on your back with a prick of his blood so you’ll be bound to his vicinity. But he doesn’t see the sense in keeping you cramped in the net.

He manages to forget what you are when he gets to sleep. You amble to his side when he starts to thrash with the visions of dead heaped up across the landscape. You sigh, gently planting a hand on his chest and coaxing the vapor of his dreams from him.

It’s the best you’ve had. So addicting you follow the plume straight to his mouth, kissing him through the cloth of his mask. It tastes of glistening red, of a brittle splintering husk, like ichor pouring from the wound of a god.

Simon startles when he awakes and sees the position of the sun in the sky. Much later than he’s risen in years. And he slept through the night, entirely uninterrupted, which is completely unheard of.

And he feels like a fucking new man. The light of the sun doesn’t feel like punishment against his skin, piercing beneath the thin membrane of his eyelids. He feels light. Packs up camp, nearly overflowing with energy,

You smile at him, flicking your little tapir ears. You look good, too. Healthy, shining hair and bright eyes. Strangely pretty, for a dream demon. You follow him closely without much provocation when he decides it’s time to get going.

He thinks about forgoing the bounty. His sigil fades from your back, falling in rusted flakes from the large white patch of your two-toned fur. He’ll get something more permanent for you when you’re back at the guild. He’s certain he has enough nightmares to keep you fed for the rest of his life.

[hyperions-light]

Good riddance to that mess: Thank the Dread Wolf we’re done with the Mage-Templar conflict

(because magic in Thedas is more interesting this way)

Okay the people who love conflict have won and I am going to talk about this now lol

I've decided to stick within the framework of the world/story for this particular post, because I think you could talk about the issues with the mages/templars in connection with how they relate to real-life groups for an entire essay AT LEAST, and I want to focus on magic here, so I don't think it's that germane to the discussion. If you all want to talk about that later, I can put it on the pile.

It turns out that Jenny Nicholson was 100% right about the efficacy of numbered lists on the internet, so this essay will be hybridized into a list. Here are the reasons I'm glad the mage-templar conflict is gone and hope it never returns:

It limits storytelling avenues I understand how they arrived at this dichotomy as the logical extrapolation of a minority of people in Thedas being born with magic BUT it's very boring and it doesn't facilitate interesting stories. If you have this strict system and hierarchy that means that every mage has to live in the tower or they're a) a criminal or b) Dalish, that seriously limits the kind of characters you can make who are mages, which is dull as both a player and a writer.

Trying to make it nuanced is difficult Attempting to show that everyone has a point in a situation is difficult when one group has absolute power over the other and can kill them whenever they feel like it. Also, with the abuses the Templars regularly perpetuate against the mages established in DAO and DA2 any attempted justification reads as the story sanctioning an oppressive force. If they try to demonstrate the danger of magic, they end up with the 10,000 blood mage problem from DA2. It's a hard thing to do within the framework they set up, but they also haven't been particularly successful with it, imo, so abandoning it is a better choice.

It's the most reductive version of the conflict Reducing the entire discussion to whether magic is good or evil, whether mages should be free or confined is really boring. It's a false dichotomy that promotes extremism in characters on either side of the conflict who never interact with one another. "Is magic bad?" is a useless and uninteresting question. Who cares? What does it do?; Where did it come from?; What different ways can you use it? are all better questions.

Makes it difficult for the audience to learn more about magic If the only characters the audience ever meets are people who come from the Circle, Dalish mages, and apostates, the amount they're going to learn about different perspectives on magic and its various uses is limited. Part of the reason Jaws of Hakkon was such an interesting DLC for DAI is because the Avvar have a completely different philosophy about magic and spirits. It was refreshing after several games of having the same ideas about magic shoved down our throats to hear someone give a different perspective and ACTUALLY NEW information. Everything I needed to know about the mage-templar conflict, I already knew by the end of DAO, but I had to sit through two more entire games while people discussed it at length.

Magic in the North is fascinating Now that we're finally rid of that conflict, look how many different kinds of magic we get to see in DATV! We get to meet a Rivaini Seer, a Mortalitasi (who can use magic to TALK TO REAL DEAD PEOPLE!!!), a non-Altus mage from the Tevinter Imperium; we get to see magic as it was utilized by the ancient elves and how it interfaces with technology. We got DWARF MAGIC!! Finally, an answer to what Sandal was doing! We found out you can use it to turn yourself into a LICH!!! All of that stuff is so cool, and we had never encountered it before this game! It brings up so many new questions about the nature of the Fade, the source of magic itself, the strength of magic in Thedas relative to other places in the world. And NONE of it could be discussed in the South because they are too busy arguing about fucking towers!!!

tl;dr: The mage-templar conflict was a boring and reductive lens through which to view magic in the DA universe, I'm glad it's gone, I hope they continue what they started in DATV and explore different ways magic can be used in the future.

[lady-of-blossoms]

WHEN LOVE FADES

Pairings: Toji x Y/N

From this poll

synopsis: Toji’s relationship with Y/N was always a little tricky but Y/N still stayed even though her friends told Y/N how he wasn’t a good partner until he forgets their anniversary and leaves Y/N waiting for him at the restaurant for 6 hours, then when Y/N finally realizes Their love faded.

WC: 1k

CONTENT WARNING: Toji is an asshole, he forgets about your anniversary, alcohol abuse, A HELLA LOT OF ANGST, Fighting, Blaming.

A/N: Sorry this was so unintimate, i didnt have much motivation. Class has been really hard on me rn:(

I sat at a small table, a single white candle flickering in the center, illuminating the carefully crafted menu that lay untouched before me. The whispers of other couples floated around, filled with laughter and sweet nothings. I glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was 9:30 PM, and the reservation had been at 3:00 PM. I could almost hear my friends’ voices in my head, their warnings echoing like a distant memory.

“Y/N, you deserve better than Toji. He’s not good for you.”

But yet, here I was, waiting. Toji and I had always walked a tightrope of chaos and comfort, his flaws often eclipsed by a flicker of charm. He’d sweep me off my feet one moment and leave me questioning my worth the next.

I poured the last drops of water from the pitcher into my glass, staring through the translucent surface. The ashy blue of his eyes would twinkle with mischief, the kind that made my heart race in ways I didn’t even want to admit. But today, they felt as distant as he was.

By the time the waitress cleared my empty table—half-heartedly touching her arm as if to say “maybe you should go”—I felt the weight of hopelessness pressing down on me. Had I been foolish to wait? To believe that today would be different?

Suddenly, the bell above the restaurant door chimed, breaking through my encasing silence. I straightened, my heart stammering as I turned to see Toji step in. He looked disheveled and slightly out of breath, his typical swagger dampened by the despair that surrounded him.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed when his eyes found me—first a flash of relief and then, confusion.

“Where have you been, Toji?” I hardly recognized the coolness in my own voice.

“I… I lost track of time. Things got a bit out of hand.” He ran a hand through his messy black hair, something he did when he was trying to gather his thoughts.

My heart ached as the memories swirled around us—the fond moments we’d shared, entwined with uncertainty and unfulfilled promises. “You forgot our anniversary,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tremor in my words betrayed me.

“I’m here now, right?” he said, and there was a hint of desperation in the smile he tried to muster. “Let’s make the best of it.”

“Six hours of waiting is a long ‘now,’ Toji.”

The flickering candlelight danced between us, casting shadows around the worn features of his face. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just… I lost track. It won’t happen again.”

But something shifted in my heart. Each year, we’d been caught in this carousel of doubt and affection, wit and sorrow. I could internalize this moment, mark it and brush it aside, but tonight, something felt irrevocable.

“The bill…” I started, but Toji cut me off with a wave of his hand, a look of guilt etching across his face.

“We can talk about that later.”

“Can we?” I challenged quietly, rage bubbling beneath the surface. “How many ‘laters’ do we have to go through before we face what’s real?”

His eyes flickered, and for a moment, I saw the man I fell in love with, his heart laid bare in the dim light, vulnerable and exposed. But just as quickly, he masked it with nonchalance.

“It was just a bad day, Y/N. We’ve all had them.”

This was our never-ending dialogue—Toji, the eternal optimist, hiding behind reasons and excuses, often leaping from the serious to the unserious, brushing aside feelings as if they were dust. And I, the craftsperson of resilience, sweeping them under the proverbial rug of sanity.

“Six hours, Toji.” I breathed, the hurt echoing in the quiet as I struggled to find reasons to hold on. “What if today wasn’t just a bad day? What if this is just how things are now?”

Toji remained silent, swirling the ice in his glass. It was haunting, the way he could make the space between us feel like a chasm filled with regrets. We used to dance around this exhaustion, always painfully avoiding the heart of the matter.

Realization hit me like a sudden rush of cold. Our love was unfurling like an old leaf disintegrating into dust. The passion, the thrill—it was fading.

“I don’t want to keep waiting, Toji. Not for you or anyone.” I could feel the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes, a testament to the years gone by.

“What are you saying?” His voice slipped, and I could see a hint of panic in his eyes.

“I think I’m saying goodbye.”

“I won’t let you go ma…” he stated fiercely, but even that sounded hollow amidst all the despair coursing between us.

“It’s not about wanting or not wanting. This isn’t working anymore. I’ve tried to hold our little family together long enough…” A silent pause filled the air, thick with words left unspoken. What once felt sacred was now fractured, barely held together by strands of laughter obscured by shadow.

Toji reached for my hand, squeezing it tight as if it would anchor him to the present moment. “Please, don’t walk away,” he begged, his voice raw and pleading.

But I needed to walk. I needed to step into the light of clarity, however painful. I wished I could splinter away his demons, sprinkle his life with joy and love, but you cannot save someone who doesn’t wish to be saved.

“I need to know I’m enough for myself first, Toji,” I whispered, wiping away the tears that had betrayed me. “Maybe one day, you’ll understand.”

With one last lingering look, I stood and slipped out of the restaurant, leaving echoes of what once was behind me, wrestling with the shadows of heartache, yet free from the chains of those delicious, yet debilitating memories.

I guess this really was WHEN LOVE FADES…

🏷️:

@bananaminn @morikosa @morikosahh

[milkandhwaney]

all my works can be found here

Bedight

an old english adjective meaning "adorned"

Summary: upon your mother forcing you to attend the kingdom's yearly gala, you find yourself drawn to a charming young man

WC: 2.8k

Tags: period drama, light angst, smut, duke!seonghwa, lady!reader, praise, oral, fingering, pet names, dirty talk, seonghwa is a bit dominant, some rough sex, unprotected sex (bad!!), reader's mom sucks, mentions of family death, light alcohol use, a bit of fluff

Disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction and in no way represents the members

"Daughter, please hurry up,” your mother sighed, poking her head around the corner of your room, “goodness, you have never been one of speed.”

“Mother,” you shot her a look of irritation through your vanity’s mirror, stopping the brush from combing your hair. You slammed it down onto the table, purposefully with loudness. “Perhaps you would be so inclined to not insult me for once in your life.”

“Why you-”

“Lady Dupont, your carriage is ready,” Sir Yeosang, the butler, interrupted, suddenly appearing beside your mother in the doorway.

You thanked him with your eyes as they met yours in the reflection, knowing he did it on purpose. Having worked for your family for many years, he’d seen firsthand the way your mother treated you. Her backhanded compliments and continuous throwing of offenses never went unnoticed, and with the kindness of his heart, he’d always swoop in to change the subject and express his sympathy towards you in private at a later time. As someone who had a sister of his own, he viewed you just the same. He felt protective, almost fatherly, towards you and wanted to make it clear to you that there was someone on your side when it seemed like no one else was. 

“Get on with it, y/n.” Your mother snapped.

Sighing, you stood up, carefully bunching your dress above your feet and scurrying towards the door. You followed behind your mother at a distance, staying closer to Yeosang as a means of comfort. You hated going places with your mother, and it was especially irritating that your father enabled her toxic behaviour. He’d once been so understanding, but it seemed he eventually got worn out, most likely due to your mother’s constant bickering and, dare you say, emotional manipulation. 

The carriage ride was silent, the faint sounds of the horses’ hooves against the earth ringing through your ears in a muffled tone. Your mother was saying something, but you weren’t listening.

“Y/n!” Her sudden loud voice snapped you out of your daze.

“What?” You blinked.

“We’ve arrived. Good heavens, pay attention, will you?”

You said nothing. Hastily, you opened the door of the carriage before Yeosang could get to you, as he was helping your mother first. The quicker you went in, the quicker you’d get out. Your mother had the habit of making the kingdom’s yearly gala a “mother-daughter” event. It seemed odd, considering the majority of others in attendance brought their entire immediate families. But truthfully, your father hated parties, so in due course he stopped attending. It naturally faded into this facade for social obligation, though you didn’t care about any of that. Your mother, however, was very big on appearances. In all honesty, if she didn’t have that trait, you truly believed she’d be warmer towards you. But you digress. 

You snuck away towards the food and drinks, knowing full well your mother wouldn’t notice you were missing- at least for a long period of time. She’d be too engaged in her idle gossip to care. 

You placed a few treats onto a plate, grabbing a glass of champagne before leaving the table. You found an empty spot in a windowed corner away from the crowd, sitting down on one of the sills. You watched the party unfold in front of you as you enjoyed the refreshments. A few moments later, your eyes landed on a tall male in the opposite corner. He was doing the same as you, hovering by the window in solitude. His eyes caught yours, and you looked away shyly. Shit, you thought, I hope he didn’t notice me staring. But when you looked in his direction again, you realized it was too late. He was making his way towards you.

He smiled sweetly once he reached you, taking a seat on the windowsill beside yours. “S’pose these are not really your thing either, huh?” He chuckled, folding his hands over his knees as he crossed his legs.

“No,” you sighed, placing down the empty champagne glass beside you. You turned your body slightly in his direction, “unfortunately, my dearest mother prefers to drag me along. Though, I do fancy free food and drinks.”

“Touché.” The atmosphere between the two of you grew quiet, but only briefly before the man spoke again. “I’m Seonghwa, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied, continuing to pick at your food.

“I haven’t seen you around before? Though, if I may be so frank, I’m not much of one to pay attention when I’m frequenting these yearly galas.”

“That makes two of us,” you joked. “I’m a Dupont. I’m sure you’ve heard of Dupont Industries.” 

“Ah,” he sang, the lightbulb clicking in his head once he made the connection, “that is the carriage manufacturing company, yes?” You nodded and he continued, “I thought as much. My family highly prefers your build amongst others. My cousin is Prince Kim Hongjoong, I’m sure you’re familiar. I’m the Duke of Zella.”

You nearly choked on the last bit of your buttered bread, Seonghwa’s eyes widening at your gasping of air as he leaned over to try to help you. You politely threw your hand up between you two to stop him. “My apologies, Duke Seonghwa,” you said once you caught your breath, “I should not be speaking to a royal so casually.”

“Please,” he said, “just address me as if we were friends.”

“Are you sure? A lady and duke conversing so informally will draw suspicion.”

“No one is paying attention,” Seonghwa shrugged, indicating your surroundings.

He was right. Everyone was too immersed in conversation to take notice of you two seemingly cozying up to one another in the corner. “Alright,” you agreed, “then, shall we take a walk in the garden?”

“Now that would certainly draw suspicion,” he laughed.

You crossed your arms and pouted. “Fine, I will go alone. I was enjoying the company, though.” You stood up and began to walk off. You were being playful with the hope he would catch on and follow.

“W-wait!” Seonghwa called after you, maneuvering to catch up. “I was only jesting.”

Once you reached the garden, you paced beside each other as you walked through the floral bushes, unintentionally standing closely to one another. Seonghwa watched the way your eyes lit up when you saw your favourite flowers, leaning over to give them a whiff. Your hair fell off your shoulders towards your face as you did this, exposing some of your skin. His breath hitched at the sight of your bare upper back, eyes flickering across your tanned skin. He found the birthmark on your left shoulder rather endearing. He cleared his throat awkwardly as you stood back up and turned to face him.

“What’s your favourite flower, Seonghwa?” You asked.

“Hmm,” he started, “I’ve never thought about it too much, but I suppose I’d say daffodils. They were my mother’s favourite.”

You quickly read the atmosphere, understanding his implications. “I’m sure your mother was a lovely woman.”

“She was,” Seonghwa nodded, a glisten of bittersweetness in his eyes. “What is yours?”

“Lilies.”

Seonghwa followed your eyes towards the flowers a few feet away. Quickly, he shuffled over to the plant and picked one of the blossomed buds before returning to you. You watched him as he brought the flower up to your right ear, tucking it behind. “There,” he smiled, “I bedight thee.”

You blushed, breath hitching in your throat. Seonghwa was quite the charmer, though he certainly didn’t seem like he was putting up a front in comparison to the other men you’d had the misfortune of being involved with. “You’re very sweet.” you thanked him softly.

“It’s been a delight to spend this evening with you, it only felt right to gift you something. Perhaps I’m being too doltish, I apologize if my advances have given you any discomfort.”

You shook your head no. “Not at all.”

In that moment, you both became aware of your proximity to one another. Mere millimeters stood between you as your eyes met. The gentle summer breeze swept through your hair, a loose strand taking its place on your lips. Gently, Seonghwa reached up to remove it, your body fluttering at the touch of his fingertips against them.

“Perhaps,” you started, narrowing your eyes flirtatiously, “I’m the one who is being too doltish, but, if I may be so curt,” you began to close the gap between your bodies, “if my observations are correct, you want to kiss me right now.” You bit your bottom lip, looking deeper into his eyes. “And quite frankly, I want to kiss you, too.”

Seonghwa’s breath grew heavy as his eyes darkened. He placed his hands on your hips, pulling you in abruptly. His lips met yours, warmth vibrating through your entirety upon the friction. You wrapped your arms around his neck, using one hand to caress the back of his head. You felt his grip on your waist tighten as you slipped your tongue past his teeth. A small moan escaped him.

“It may be that we are acting awfully prudent,” Seonghwa exhaled as you broke apart for a moment.

“I do not mind,” you whispered, pressing your hand against his clothed chest. You played with the lapels of his suit for a moment. “I ache for you.”

That was all that he needed to hear to know you were both on the same page. “I know a place more private.”

Seonghwa carefully led you towards the barn a bit further from the palace, though it was not so far that the outline couldn’t be made out in the darkness of the night. He glanced around at his surroundings to make sure the coast was clear as you made your way to it. It was dark inside, but the moonlight shining through the open roof gave just enough light for you to enjoy each other's beauty.

“Hongjoong and I used to come here when we were teenagers to drink. Our parents never found out, so I could only assume this is a safe place.”

“To your knowledge,” you teased, poking his side with your elbow.

He chuckled before suddenly picking you up and placing his lips against yours again. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer by his bowtie. The friction of your core against his chest caused a low groan to erupt from you. 

“You have such pretty moans,” he praised as he lay you down on the soft pile of hay, “I must hear more.”

With haste, Seonghwa hiked your dress up above your waist, exposing your unclothed core. “My,” he gasped, “how revolutionary of you.”

You laughed. “I have always been one to interrupt the status quo.”

Seonghwa pressed his tongue against your swollen bud, allowing his teeth to graze it ever so gently on occasion. You whimpered as he entered a finger inside of your seeping hole, wasting no time to start curling at your sweet spot. “Fuck,” you hissed, gripping the hay surrounding you tightly. “Oh my god.”

You felt the vibrations of Seonghwa’s laugh on your center, sending another pleasurable sensation through your body. He was enjoying watching you fall apart below him, and it brought him great pride to know he was the one who was making you feel that way. He lifted his mouth off of your clit, replacing it with the thumb of his free hand as he continued to pump in and out of you with the other. “Has anyone ever made you feel this good, darling?” He sang, watching the changes in your face with delight.

“N-no,” you moaned, eyes rolling back as he pushed you close to the edge.

“Hmm, I better be making you forget all of the others, y/n,” he growled, accessing a bit more of his dominance. “Tell me how much you love my fingers.”

“So much,” you cried, beginning to shake as you reached your climax.

“I didn’t hear you, love.”

“Fuck!” You squealed, “I love the way you fuck my cunt with your fingers, Seonghwa!”

“That’s it,” he smirked, pumping fast, “come all over my fingers, pretty. Make a mess for me.”

You screamed as your body began to convulse, mouth agape with an ungodly sound as you drenched his hand with your juices. Seonghwa watched as your sweet nectar dripped out of you, moaning from the sensation. He brought his fingers up to his mouth to taste them before hovering over your body to place them into yours. “Taste yourself, baby.” He demanded softly.

“So good,” you groaned, holding his wrist in place as you sucked all of you off of his fingers. You stared into his eyes seductively as you released them with a pop. “Unravel me,” you begged, gripping his hips to pull him closer, “devour me with your cock, Duke Seonghwa.”

As much as Seonghwa hated being addressed as duke in his daily life, when he had you like this, begging you to fill him as desire sparkled passionately in your eyes, it was the sexiest thing in the world. “Fuck,” he exhaled, quickly pulling his trousers down to release his hardened member. You watch it slap against his stomach, eyes widening at his size. You weren’t much to care about that, but you’d be lying if seeing his didn’t arouse you even more.

“You’re so big, Seonghwa,” you said, slowly removing your eyes from his hard cock to look at his face. “Don’t treat me gently.”

Seonghwa leaned in and kissed you sweetly as he aligned his tip with your entrance, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip before giving it a soft nibble. “As you wish,” he muttered against them before grabbing your hips and slamming himself into you.

The pleasure came quickly, seeing as you were already prepped from his hands earlier. He threw his head back as his cockhead brushed against your g-spot, sending shivers through his body. “God, love, you feel so fucking good on me,” he growled, “fit just right on my cock.”

“Mmmm,’ you hummed, watching him pump in and out of you, “I was made for you.”

Seonghwa was quickly falling apart, deciding to slow down so he wouldn’t come too quickly. He wanted to stay in you as long as he could. “My god,” he started, eyes taking in every nook and crevice of your being as he filled you, “you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“You’re quite dashing, yourself.” You winked in response, your eyes doing just the same as his. “I love the way you fill me, love,” you sang as his hips snapped harshly against yours, “both with your cock and kindness.”

Seonghwa moved one hand from your hips to reach under your back, lifting you up off the hay so you were now sitting up. You refused to break eye contact with another as he fucked you relentlessly. 

“Right there,” you whined, throwing your hand up to grip his arm in pure bliss, “oh god, right fucking there.”

“Yeah?” He taunted, “what will you do if I do this instead?” 

He was teasing, but somehow knew that the slight change in how we was fucking you would be even better. Your eyes widened at the sudden rush of pleasure, your moans growing louder. “S-shit!”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but match them, the two of you only getting noisier as each second passed, eyes focused on the growing passion in one another’s. The way you groaned only a moment later caused him to lose it.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he whimpered, bring his lips to meet your neck and sinking his teeth into them in every so slightly.

You mewled at the overflow of sensations, nothing but pleasure filling all of your senses. “Come in me,” you whispered, moving one of your hands to your clit. 

Seonghwa’s eyes rolled, cries falling from his lips as he felt you getting wetter from the added stimulation of your own fingers. “Oh god, y/n.” He whined, throwing his head back again with a loud grunt, “just like that, fuck!” You let out a loud cry as your body shook again, squirting all over his cock. “I-I’m,” Seonghwa began to squirm as he reached his peak, releasing his hot seed into your dripping cunt. He rode out his orgasm as he continued to slowly thrust into you before stopping completely. Breathing heavily, he collapsed beside you, soon pulling you flush against his body to spoon you.

“Was that alright?” He asked once you had both settled, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“More than alright,” you hummed, shimmying yourself closer to him. “Would you like to go on an outing sometime soon?”

“My, you really are revolutionary,” he chuckled at your initiation as it was a rare practice amongst society. He smiled at the fact that he had found someone on an equal footing. He never wanted someone that felt they needed to seem inferior towards him. “I’d be honoured.”

[httpsbilliesmilo]

Prompt: you are having a bad day and are getting sever backlash and hate on your socials since it was confirmed that you and Billie were dating. You don’t want Billie to find out since Billie was so happy confessing but everything comes to light when she reads the comments under your instagram post. set in the same cinematic universe as the last one

The notifications hadn’t stopped buzzing since the news broke—constant reminders of how cruel people could be. You sat cross-legged on your bed, the phone glowing in your hands. Each swipe brought another hateful comment, each one cutting deeper.

“She’s not even pretty.”

“Billie could do so much better.”

“This is obviously for attention.”

You tried to shake them off, but they lingered, heavy and sharp. It wasn’t just the words—it was the sheer volume, an avalanche you couldn’t escape. Billie’s laugh from a recent interview played in your mind, bright and carefree. She’d been so happy when the two of you went public.

You bit your lip hard enough to sting. Billie didn’t know what it had been like for you. You didn’t want her to know.

Later that night, your phone buzzed again, a relentless reminder of everything you wanted to ignore. Against your better judgment, you unlocked it. Your latest Instagram post—a photo of a book and a coffee cup—was flooded with comments.

“Attention-seeking much?”

“Why does Billie even bother?”

“This girl’s a nobody.”

Your hand trembled as you locked the phone and shoved it under your pillow, tears spilling over before you could stop them. The weight of the past few days settled heavily on your chest, pressing down until it felt impossible to breathe.

Curling into yourself, you pulled your knees to your chest and let the tears come, silent and unrelenting. You tried to stay quiet, but your shaky breaths betrayed you.

The bedroom door creaked open, startling you.

“Babe?” Billie’s voice was soft, cautious.

You stiffened, hurriedly wiping at your cheeks as she stepped into the room. She was wearing sweats and an oversized hoodie, her hair a little messy, like she’d been running her fingers through it. Her smile faded the moment she saw your red-rimmed eyes.

“What’s going on?” Billie asked, concern lacing her voice as she crossed the room in a few quick steps and sat down on the edge of the bed.

You shook your head, forcing a weak smile that crumbled almost instantly. “It’s nothing,” you whispered.

Billie frowned, her gaze drifting to the pillow where your phone was hidden. “It’s not nothing. You’re crying.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Billie’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Know what?”

Wordlessly, you reached under the pillow and handed her your phone, unable to meet her gaze. Billie hesitated before unlocking it, her expression darkening as she scrolled through the comments. Her jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the phone so tightly it looked like she might break it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Billie asked, her voice low but sharp.

“Because you were so happy,” you whispered. “You were finally able to be yourself, and I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Billie set the phone down on the nightstand and turned back to you, her green eyes blazing with emotion. “You’re not ruining anything. This—this crap they’re saying? It’s not about you. It’s about them. They don’t know you like I do.”

You looked up at her, tears still slipping down your cheeks. “But they hate me, Billie. Just for being with you.”

Billie leaned forward, cupping your face in her hands. “Let them hate. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. It never will.”

You nodded weakly, leaning into her touch, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift.

A week later, Billie sat across from the interviewer at Vogue, her hands resting loosely in her lap. The conversation had started light, but it had inevitably shifted toward her relationship.

Billie hesitated, her smile fading. “You know,” she began, her voice quiet but firm, “I wish nobody ever knew anything about my dating life. It’s… complicated.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and in that moment, she wasn’t the pop star everyone idolized. She was just a girl trying to protect the person she loved.

[starsha-k-luna]

OK, so ever since I saw Transformers One, I couldn’t help but think of that scene from Netflix She-Ra Series Finale where Adora sees her future and Catra saves Adora life, then tells her she loves her and they kiss at the end.

I was thinking of Optimus Prime being in Adora’s place and Megatron in Catra’s place.

I wanted to draw up a comic, but DRAWING TRANSFORMERS IS SO HARD!!!!!!

So I decided to try and write it up as a mini story instead, being set where OP is sacrificing his life for Cypertron (think of when OP sacrifices himself in TF Prime Season Finale) and Megs being at his side trying to get him to wake up and keep him alive.

Sorry if it’s a bit weird, I’m an Artist not a Writer.

Megatron is holding his foe (former best friend) Optimus Prime in his arms as he slowly slips away after giving his life force to save Cybertron from destruction.

“Hang in there Prime, you’ll bounce back, you always do,”said Megatron with tears starting to form in his eyes.

“It’s ok,” Optimus says in a quite small voice as he closes his eyes.

“Orion!” calls out Megatron, not caring he called Optimus by his former name a name he has not said in such a long time.

* * * * * * *

Optimus wakes up in an unfamiliar place looking in a mirror his reflection, he looks slightly older. Then he hears the door open Bee comes in with Megatron (who looks like his old self when he was D 16) right behind him.

“Let me just clean you up a bit,” said Megatron in a playful voice.

“Nooo,” Bee says as he runs giddily toward Optimus and hides behind him before Megatron can catch him. “You need to save me, Dee’s going to torture me”.

“Stop being dramatic already,” says Megatron with a small smile on his face.

Then Elita One comes into the room.

“Alright everyone, enough playing around,” says Elita. “We have to meet up with the city leaders and we cannot be late.” Then she grabs Bee by the arm and begins to drags him out of the room.

“Ok, bye guys see you later,” says Bee as he and Elita leave the room. Megatron starts to follow before turning back and facing Optimus who has been quite through out the whole ordeal.

“You coming Pax” Megatron says as he holds out his hand for Optimus to hold.

Optimus smiles (especially after hearing his old name) and begins to take Megatron, no Dee’s hand.

Then Dee’s hand glitches, then his whole body before his form glitches into Sentinel Prime’s form.

“What a beautiful wish,” says Sentinel Prime with a sinister grin on his face, “Too bad it will never come true”. Then Sentinel grabs Optimus by the arm and the whole room turns into a Black Void.

* * * * * * *

Now Megatron is Panicking!

He can literally see the life fading away from his former friend’s body.

In a last ditch effort to get through to him, the starts to talk to him.

“ORION PAX!” He calls. “Please don’t give up come back.”

Then he notices Optimus twitch. He heard him! Megatron keeps talking.

* * * * * * *

Meanwhile Optimus is being dragged down further into the Black Void by Sentient Prime as he laughs.

Then he hears a familiar voice.

“ORION PAX!”

He eyes open wide then in an opening he sees Megatron holding out his hand.

“Come on Pax!” Megatron calls out. “You can’t give up, you’ve never given up on anything in your life, not even on me, so don’t you dare start now!”

Despite Sentinel Prime’s grasp, Optimus is able to get his right arm free and try’s to grab Megatron’s hand, but he’s just out of reach.

“I, I can’t” said Optimus.

“No, don’t give up,” said Megatron pleadingly, “I’ve, I’ve got you.”

Optimus starts to look away looking defeated as Sentinel wicked smile grows wider.

Megatron then says with tears flooding his eyes.

“Don’t you get it Pax!” Begging at this point because he was not about to lose him.

“I love you, I always have, so please just this once stay!” Then Megatron grabs Optimus’s hand.

* * * * * * *

Megatron wakes up, wait when did he fall asleep and looks over to see Optimus has also woken up. He looks at him and asks.

“You love me?”

“You’re such an idiot” Megatron responds, then a gentle hand motions his head to look towards Optimus, he has a gentle smile on his face and simply says.

“I love you too Dee,”

Then Megatron pulls Optimus close, then they share a kiss.

The Matrix of Leadership glows brightly and heals Optimus.

That’s The End!

I don’t now how exactly too end it, so I’m just going to leave it there.

Anyway let me know what you all think?

I’d love to hear some feedback and if there’s anyway to improve it?

I’ll see you all next time👋

[thecryptidenthusiast]

I love this so much. but also I can't believe that she got this BEFORE meeting the vampire love of her life lol

(-wayhavenots in case you didn't know haha)

Abby, when she realizes the adults in her life were right and yes, she does regret some of her tattoos, but for the most unforeseeable reason:

[davemustaine]

last night i hand dyed my old super faded 1987 megadeth shirt because it was literally so well loved that it was GREY and it turned out so good ... i was so worried id ruin the graphic but everything went perfect wtf. it looks new again ... wearing it today

[guardianscry]

Just created a whole story in my head in the span of 20 minutes and cried why is everything I make so fucking sad

[icharchivist]

I had a dream this night where Sir Ian McKellen came to perform a play at my school. In the middle of the play, his character, who looked like Gandalf but wasnt Gandalf, turned to us and said "i haven't known such joy since Gandalf got his big naturals". Moment of silence where we turn to each other in the crowd, going "does. Does he know." Because it made sense in the context of the play and could have been a line written for him without him having the reference. But no. He smiles so foundly to confirm yes. He knows. And it's the best thing ever to him.

And it made me laugh so hard that it woke me up I'm OBSESSED. I want to believe the Real Sir Ian McKellen appeared to me in dreams to pass me this message.

[kamiversee]

Big ruby shaded eyes, matching that of her father’s, have this adorable thin layer of gloss over them as she pleads with her parent for the millionth time.

“Daddy pwease?” She has the cutest little pout on her face, one that’s worked on her mother time and time again that’s sure to work on her father too—

“No.” Sukuna says yet again.

The child is tired of asking and receiving that same answer over and over. She doesn’t understand one bit why but she hates hearing that word. Folding her arms, she lets out an annoyed puff, “Mommy would never tell me no…”

One statement and there’s already another vein bulging in the right corner of Sukuna Ryomen’s forehead. “Go away, brat.” He breathes out in an overly irritated tone.

The child, unable to take no for an answer and more like her father than she even realizes, takes her foot and brings it down on the curse’s foot in frustration.

If he wasn’t ticked off before, he damn sure is now. “You little—“

“Sukuna,” And there it is, the voice of the sole human in this reality who could ever even dream of cutting the king of curses off mid-sentence. Not only is it you, the mother of his overly insolent child, but you have the nerve to give him that scolding tone he hates (loves).

He scowls for a long moment before looking down to the smaller human who carries more of your features than his. “Fine, child.” Sukuna drawls out after a long roll of his many eyes.

Then, with a big smile plastered all over her small face, her hands are shooting up and she’s making a grab motion with her hands.

Sukuna stares down at her and sighs, “You really are a spoiled brat, y’know…” He grumps while leaning down to pick his daughter up with one out of his two pairs of hands. “…Just like your damn mother.”

The child’s smile fades for a moment and she tilts her head, “Damn?” She repeats in a confused tone, making Sukuna’s heart spike.

“Wait-, don’t… don’t say that.” He’s been down this road one two many times—having taught the child how to say ‘fuck’ the moment she began spewing words. He received an earful from you that he didn’t care for so, here he is now, “That’s a bad word.”

His daughter blinks, “But, Daddy said it.”

Sukuna groans lowly in irritation, “Daddy can say whatever the hell he wants.”

“Hell?” Oh she had to be doing this on purpose, knowing her mother was only a room away.

“Child.” The curse scolds, “Are you trying to irritate me?”

She shrugs playfully, “This is what you get for telling me no.”

“You asked me if you could draw on my face.” He deadpans.

“And you should’ve said yes,” You suddenly chime in, entering the room, “Instead of teaching her more curse words.”

The little girl snickers in Sukuna’s arms and he swears he has an image of the child being flung across the room for just a moment. That image is interrupted by the girl speaking again.

“Like fuck?” She says loud and clear. “I heard Daddy say it again earlier today—“

A big hand goes over her mouth (practically her entire face) and she’s cut off by her father who’s innocently smiling at you, his darling wife.

“Ignore her. I was just about to let her draw on my face so,” He glances down at his daughter who’s giggling victoriously beneath his palm and then sighs, “If you’ll excuse us.”

You’re left smiling at the two as Sukuna turns away with his daughter and exits the room—the sound of them bickering as soon as they’re out of sight heard moments later.

And the next time you lay eyes on the two, Sukuna’s got a face full of stickers and marker and his little mini-me has a mocking face full of her father’s markings. To which you just had to take a million and one pictures of.

[screampied]

‘ ONE OF HIS GIRLSSSS ! ,

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)

wc. 6k

warnings. fem! reader, vōyerism, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), unprotected, praise, dirty talk, squírting, cunnílingus, slight dumbification, impact play, size kink, spit.

dbf! toji masterlist

“guys, i’m serious,” you’d utter, your monitor staring right back at you — a full live audience of over twelve thousand eyes listening to you speak. you were cooped up in your room, slouching on your chair with your legs pressed together. “he’s totally real. we even almost got caught one time.”

you were referring to your dad’s best friend, toji…

just muttering his name aloud made you feel all sorts of tingles. oh, to think how that 'one time' was just about three days ago. you still remember everything like it just happened, the intoxicating taste of toji’s lips, his unforgettable loud cologne scent, how fucking mean he was, you missed him, who were you even kidding. last time you checked, him and your father went out somewhere. you didn’t bother to care where, probably fishing or something.

skimming through the plethora of donations with filthy questions, thirsty provocative questions that desperately craved your attention, you read one, “how is he in bed, oh—well,” and you squeeze your thighs before re-adjusting your screen. “he’s okay. i had to fake my orgasms a few times though, figures ‘cause he’s kinda old.”

“oh yeah?”

as if on cue, there toji stood—right outside your doorway, hands buried in his deep roots of pockets and that same unreadable expression. he’s sending you straight daggers, you crane your neck to glance at him before you panic, “uh, i’ll talk to you guys later.”

“nah keep that shit on, girl,” he shakes his head, trodding his bare feet towards you. you mentally face palm. you could have sworn he was out somewhere with your father. “just when i thought ya couldn’t get even freakier,” he mutters, and he’s now behind you—green irises peering at your monitor. the chat suddenly spams with some of your audience lusting over toji, wondering if he’s a special guest. “heyyy,” he says to the screen, his voice was a pitchy low and then you gasp once he throws an arm around you. “is he a special guest?” and then he turns to you with a sly grin. “i don’t know, princess . . am i?”

“. . . i mean i guess,” you speak, not even realizing how your tone softens a bit. this always happened, whenever you were just a few feet away from toji, you’d feel so tense. it’s officially been a week since the two of you were screwing around—you hadn’t gotten caught, at least you think you haven’t gotten caught. the thrill of it all though, it was enticing. he eyes your little set up and he’s amused more than anything. “this is the guy i was telling you guys about,” you avert your dilated pupils back towards the bright screen. “this is . . . toji.”

“heh yo,” he scoffs at the screen with a greet, seeing how your confidence fades the moment he’s in the room with you. toji leans beside you, eyeing the lewd comments before one catches his eye. “tell him to turn around. what for?”

you sheepishly grin at the webcam, knowing some of your aroused fans wanted to take a quick peek at toji’s ass. to be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame them. you stare a bit yourself, and it was definitely. . . something.

three new tips from mod gojoclitoru: girl bye he looks like he doesn’t shower

wormfucker69: he looks like the guy who works @ my cleaners lol

shokostrapdestroyer: Where’s Shoko ?????

kanyeastinfection: Soooo hawt ;)

iloveosamudazai: i miss nanamin

“how come y’er all shy? i heard what you’ve been saying ‘bout me, y’know,” toji mumbles. he stands tall, cracking his neck towards the left. his entire frame, he was always so handsome. you take a moment to glance up at him, his perfectly chiseled physique. he looked like he was about to head to the gym, he had on a simple wife beater with dingy grey sweats. his gaze he had towards you was purely tantalizing. “. . ah,” he inches closer towards you, bending down as you sat on the office chair, getting right up close to your face. “why don’t you repeat that last bit for me. you fake your orgasms with this old man?”

“i didn’t ….” you trail off, trying to come up with some excuse. suddenly, it felt hot. you felt hot.

your heart starts to race the more he stared you down. the chat was going at a much more rapid speed, it’s like your viewer count doubled the moment toji entered. then you thought—maybe this would do you some good, having him as a special guest didn’t seem so bad.

he lightly grabs your chin, making you peer straight into his eyes. “i stay away from you for three days ‘n it seems like you forgot how to act.”

toji did have a point precisely, for the last three days you basically had the entire house to yourself. him and your father went out to some business trip, you missed him though.

of course, if you tagged along you’d be sure you’d both get caught so you just offered to watch over the house. it was as if the more time you spent with toji, the more you started to feel something.

you didn’t know what it was, it was hard to put into detail, put into pure words—but you knew for certain, you didn’t wanna stop seeing him. it was spring break after all…

“i meant what i said,” you mutter.

while returning his gaze, toji’s eyes widen for a bit, off guard by your sudden switch of attitude. you had a bit of a plan, you decided if you played along, your sweet thousands of fans would eat it up. and they were, the repetitive high-pitch sounds of constant donations rang through your ears before you continue to speak. “i faked everything, toji.”

his eyes linger into you for a long time before he drags a thumb down your lip. “well shit. that so?” and his voice—it pitches a dangerous tune. you already start to feel your thighs squeeze together more tightly. “mhm,” he grunts, watching you nod your head in response. he scoffs to himself before grumbling. “maybe i should make it more real for you then.”

with such simple words, trust and believe he does.

toji’s way of making it more real was to simply have you ride his face, all in front of your audience too.

for some reason, you felt burning up coming to the sheer realization that literally all eyes were simply on you. a quick glance at your blue light monitor and the viewer count displayed a hefty whopping amount of 12,295. all you could think about it was the hefty bank you were about to make.

your legs quaver as toji’s laid flat on your old bed, having you take your seat right on his face — his breath is hot as he runs his tongue alongside your inner thighs before giving you a stare. “eyes down here, not them,” he snarls, and you moan once he spanks your pre-soaked clit, your panties still attached. “they aren’t about to fuckin’ eat you out, are they?”

“n—no,” you murmur out, looking down back at him and he slowly runs a fat thumb down your slit.

oh, you were soaked alright.

a cute little damp spot between the middle part of your underwear makes an appearance and he slides his tongue all against it. he’s so slow with it all, making sure to take his time to make you pout out for him. “toji,” you mumble, feeling your tummy sink in before you huff out a single breath. he’s still so attractive, even underneath you—a little yet nice amount of facial hair scatters near certain parts of his face. scattered specks of brief darkened hair near his sharp jaw paint his face like an empty canvas. you run a finger against his chin and he shoots you a sleazy grin. “hurry up, toji.”

dark eyes flicker back towards you before he gifts your sopping pussy a mean spank. “hurry up toji,” he mocks your tone. you melodically whimper, watching as he licks a single stripe between your covered slit. “shut the fuck up. ‘m gonna take my time with you since apparently you ‘fake’ everything.”

you couldn’t help but merely slip out a giggle, your comment really offended him in some way. obviously, you were joking though—you and toji both knew he knew how to snatch multiple orgasms out of you at once. he was quite a skilled man without question, with his tongue—his dick, literally anything.

although, you snap out of your salacious thoughts the moment you feel him latch his tongue against your folds. it took you a minute to realize your panties were already off, he practically ripped them off and he was already digging in. you whimper, hovering your weight over his face before staring at the lit up monitor.

BIGDICKKUNA: Even my domain has better camera quality than this

gojoclitoru: here sukuna go…

FOXYKITTEN2940: clean up aisle my pants >.<

you’re starting to grind against his face, a hand combing through his hair before your bite your lip. toji stares at you, dragging a thumb down your puffy slit before leaning back to spit on it. he was always such a sloppy man—no shame in the world. you’d feel yourself pulsate whenever he did that, departing his lips away from your cunt before collecting a good wad of saliva to coat your folds with such a sheeny translucent color.

squelch after squelch, undeniably you were sopping. his nose briefly prods against your nub and you whine once he finally starts to actually eat you out.

“f-fuckkk.” you’d breathe, intaking a sharp breath. sudden dizziness overtook you—a thrum escapes from your sheeny lips as you rock your hips forward. it was hypnotic, the way you move against his mouth. toji looked so pretty underneath you too. his eyes, so hooded and half lidded—such a hungry gaze, a starved animal. he starts tantalizingly slow at first, making sure to lay the flat of his tongue against your entrance before simply digging in.

side—to—side, his head continues to swiftly shift and move as he’s devouring his meal, a thumb continues to strum against your slick arousal before he starts to suck, suck, suck.

candy, a perfect way to describe your taste in toji’s humblest opinion. he could never get enough, a few long strands of his hair tickles against your thighs as he resumes his sloppy eating. “mhm. pull on it.” he says between hot breaths, and you feel a sudden fire ignite inside of you. you knew immediately he was referring to his hair. such ruffled, messy strands desperately awaiting to be tugged by your fingers.

so you do—you take a good grab, lightly yanking him forward and he grunts.

“. . harder,” he rasps, and he’s already starting to look blissed out. eyes all glazed over, you wriggle over his face before you feel a sudden shiver overtake you. you pull harder and his face goes right against your cunt. you sloppily swipe against his nose like a credit card and he smirks at you. “that’s what ‘m talking about. ride my face, girl.”

his words, his filthy vulgarly words guide you through it all.

each pulse makes you twitch even more—each breath that runs out your mouth feels like it’s going to be your last, especially with a tongue like toji’s. he makes sure not to miss a drop, slurping quite everything out of you. he was a man—not necessarily a clean one, but he was never scared of a little mess. you start to coat the bottom part of his chin with your slit, it’s glistening so much.

after a while, toji’s already drunk off of your sweetened taste. every few flicks of his tongue against your nub makes cute whimpers coo out your throat and you only tighten the grip against his hair.

“r-right there, ‘s good when you suck there, toji.”

“cause i know what the fuck ‘m doing.” he grumbles back, bringing his same thumb to slide down your slit. he repeats it again and again. smearing your own mess right back on you, only to clean it up. he was a messy man, and with a tasty pussy that you had—you only made him ten times messier.

he was never one to complain though, toji’s the type to never say thank you—he shows you how grateful he is, it involves with being between your legs.

toji fushiguro…

a sleazy man without a single care in the word, maybe messing around his with best friend’s daughter slash colleague was a bit taboo. but did he care—no, was he gonna stop doing it—no, was he perhaps catching feelings for you the more time he spends with you? were you catching feelings?

. . .

unanswered questions, even if you asked yourself that question, you honestly couldn’t even know how to reply. the two of you never really labeled anything, so this was just a simple spring break fling right?

once courses resume and you go back to your well prestige university your father got you into due to connections, that’d probably be the last you’d see of him. toji fushiguro, the man you’ve been screwing around with for the past almost two weeks. it’s almost safe to say that you started to get attached to his presence—sometimes it’s like the two of you didn’t even care if you got caught. there was literally a time where toji fingered you under the table during dinner.

that was . . embarrassing.

the way you were trying to withhold a conversation with your father—he’s just rambling you about what a boring day he had at the office and you’re over here gushing on his best friend’s fingers. you find yourself thinking about that specific moment all too well—as well as the various other ones, him fucking you on the hood of his car, in the living room, and even the bathroom—which your panties ended up getting found.

oops.

“told you to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me,” he hoarsely rasps—snapping you out of your lewd reminiscing fantasm. his tongue, it’s swirling all against your clit as you focus your attention back towards him. with two big hands, he holds your jerky hips steady—feeling you rut against his mouth before he feels you pulse right in his mouth. “yeah.” he mutters, bringing two digits to prod towards your slick entrance. you whine, feeling him slowly insert them with ease—so wet, he was almost in awe at how you were dripping like a faucet. not even a faucet could compare nor describe how sodden your sweet cunt was. each lap he makes with his tongue gets more filthy, it turns into sucking before you’re practically spasming all over again.

you moan, hands still tight and rigidly tangled within his strands before you take a quick peek at your laptop. so many eyes were on you—so many more eyes now, the count was steadily doubling, the donations you were receiving made your mouth nearly water. tip after tip, your pupils turned into green dollar signs. this was probably the most viewers you had in the entirety of your little cam girl side hustle.

all thanks to toji.

you’re getting close, it’s inevitable—especially with the way your hips continue to rock back and forth. a cute rhythm he got accustomed to, toji brings two rough hands towards the fat mounds of your ass before squeezing it. he was always a handsy man, feeling all over your body. green pools of eyes stare right at you as you’re intaking each staggering breath that escapes your spit-glossed lips. “c-close, toji,” you’d babble out, your knees almost buckle—a sudden twinge pouring into your lower abdomen before you mewl. “gonna—cum, gonna—”

“baby hold it,” he says sternly, the base in his voice never failing to make you wet. he breaks his lips away for a moment before he glances at the screen—an upside down position. “hm. chat, should the pretty girl finish early?”

your heart drops—you knew how many trolls you had in your audience, and before you could cutely tell him to just let you climax, he hums in amusement at the incoming flood of comments.

chososbootylicker29: Petition to have Toji oiled and cheeked up

zorosballswallower: NOOOOO

anonymoususer: dad?

gojoclitoru: lol no.

and with many others the comments continue to flood.

majority of the answers being no—you hated being edged, loathed it. especially with toji because he was so damn mean. he snickers, reading the responses upside down before you feel the two tips of his fingers shove way deep inside you. your back arches and you whine ore he holds your hips in place with a single hand. “looks like y’er little fans want you to wait pretty girl,” and you look down at him with a cute glare—his lips depart and his entire mouth from the very bottom of his chin was damp. even still, he looked so attractive. “cute. a glare ain’t gonna change nothing though,” and a pout shortly stretched against your lips as he runs his tongue near your frantic pulsing clit. he brings a spank to it and it makes you whine. “be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer.”

“i can’t,” you frown out, and that only earns another sharp spank towards your folds.

“yes you fuckin’ can,” and you start to whine once he stops eating you out. it felt so warm, all of a sudden the cold air wafts against your skin and you shudder. toji loves more than anything to spank your pussy whilst staring right into your eyes. “if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.”

my girl…

for some reason, that made your pulsing ten times worse, a plethora of butterflies arise inside your stomach and you’re still just hovering over his face.

he palpates his fingers—not his tongue to rummage all inside your cunt, you frown cutely. you wanted his tongue, not his stubby thick fingers. although, the thing you wanted most was to finish. as you grind against his face, you feel his infamous scar run against your pussy and it tickles. it tickles in such a way that it drags out a sweet crying moan from you.

“t—toji,” you start to grow impatient. he’s just teasing you, blowing against your folds with warm breath, swiping his nose alongside your sopping entrance, anything but tasting you again. he likes seeing you like this, on the brink of tears because you got denied a climax. it started to come closer and closer until once it was finally there—you puff up your cheeks for a split second before moaning. “g-god, i can’t hold it. ‘m gonna cummm.”

“wait,” he utters in a husky rasp, watching as you quaveringly hover over his face—chin just soaked with your arousal, he licks the bottom of his lip before tittering at you. “you finish when i’m ready.”

“f-fuck you,” you whimper, and you end up cumming anyway—he’s taken aback but it only arouses him even more. the brat, oh the brat that you were. one of the many things he liked about you, you were submissive but not entirely—you had a backbone, you talked back to him, you even had the nerve to roll those pretty eyes at him.

it hits you like a semi-truck.

illegal full speed, the brakes were had to step on and you feel it just strike right into you at full force. your orgasm, you scoot your hips forward against his mouth and now he’s the one glaring at you. toji laps up all of you, two fingers spreading your clit apart before he spits on it again. “you just don’t listen, huh,” and his voice was even lower than it was before—a rich baritone lingering underneath it. you’re riding out your climax when he lightly shoves you on the bed.

in your mind, you’re thinking . .

finally, the good part.

toji grimaces at the cute smile that goes against your lips. you’re eager just as him— not to mention, it’s been three days since he’s touched you. “don’t get too excited, brat,” he grumbles with a scowl tugging the corners of his mouth. he plops onto the bed before staring down at you. “bend the fuck over for me. fake orgasm my ass.”

so blunt, you immensely comply—so impatient for him to just be inside of you.

the piles of donations triple by this point, and you try to take a peep at your screen before he spanks your ass. “ass up, face down little girl. don’t got all day.”

“sorryyy,” you giggle with a mere eye roll.

testing toji’s patience was always so fun for you. for whatever reason, getting on his nerves really turned you on. once you finally bend over for him, two hands grab the fats of your ass and you bite your lip once he prepares to align himself. you’re facing your bright lit screen.

the comments talking more about toji than you and you pout . . . figures though. he’s hot, no wonder all the attention would be on him instead of you.

with his right hand, he wraps it around his thick length before rubbing his tip against your pre-drenched entrance. he grunts, witnessing how your pussy tries to swallow him so easily…

you’re puckering, awaiting for him to stuff you full as you’re slump right into the mattress. “but sweetheart, y’er not sorry,” he grunts, smacking his fat tip against your slick folds. a soft mewl runs out the back of your throat before you arch just a bit more. with another spank, he snarls in a huff, “not gonna fuck ya that easy. y’er gonna have to use those manners if you wanna get what you want.”

“huh?”

“huh?” he mocks, kissing your ass with another spank from his palm. “you can’t hear? speak, girl. talk ‘ta me nice.”

glossy eyes of yours avert towards your screen, everyone’s lusting over toji and it only fuels his ego even more—you easily felt yourself throb, a pout never leaving your lips before you inhale.

“please . . ” you start, feeling him softly drag a hand against your curves, your physique. his touch always had you weak, taking in every part of your frame. all his . . just for these few weeks.

“please what?”

“please f—fuck me,” you grumble, and you’re growing more and more irritated—he hums to himself, amused. each second you spend speaking, each second he could be inside of you. you and him both knew that.

toji rubs his leaky tip with a bit more pressure against your pussy, just a a little more and he’d be inside. you started to feel your mouth salivate before you start to whine. “hm,” he ponders to himself, green eyes occasionally staring at the laptop that had about hundreds of comments spamming per second. “fine. i feel like bein’ nice to you today, especially since i haven’t seen my girl in a hot minute,” and again, he refers to you as his girl. it sends an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies brewing up in your stomach before he spanks you for probably the umpteenth time now. “now, arch a liiiitle more ‘n stare at your fans for me, yeah.”

you’re propped on the mattress with your ass all up in the air. from your screen as you stare at it, you spot toji’s mirroring reflection. that sly smile that slowly and gradually forms against his lips.

“lie the fuck down.” he mutters, feeling you try to sit up. you do, intaking a single breath before you feel him huff out a low puff. toji’s eyes stare right at your ass, he takes every moment in. the way you suck him in, it’s just filthy. the saturated squelches that shortly follow afterward—so filthy.

a six letter word to perfectly describe this entire situation.

arched over for your dad’s best friend, who would have thought—not you, not in a million years.

“ . . . shit,” he pants, and you’re so wet. you moan, pawing at the fat silk sheets in front of you. so many flooded comments of your audience merely thirsting over toji, wishing desperately that they were in your position. ( . . quite literally . . )

and toji’s just so fucking big.

he’s got a lofty height of inches under his belt.

metaphorically speaking—just a single sharp thrust and you’re speechless.

the wind gets snatched out of your lungs and it’s so vigorous that your head’s spinning. this entire angle, he’s got you right where he wants you—on all fours with your ass perked up. toji can’t keep his hands to himself anyway, his hands roam all over your waist before holding both hips in place. clammy hands just about stick to your skin before he starts to create a decent pace.

a slow pace — a slow pace that turns more mean.

languidly, you feel yourself leaning to his touch as he runs a hand down your spine.

toji brings one leg up to deepen the position and not even moments later, your lips part.

“t—toji . . ah ah,” and you don’t even recognize yourself. he repositions himself for a split second, making haste with his hips before sliding his feet right past your knees. with this, it’s more stimulation and you feel it all. just the right amount of pressure, his balls sharply thwack against your ass and it makes your mind cloud up with fuzz.

“. . damn,” he groans, a hand grabbing towards the back of your university hoodie. as he leans forward, dark viridescent colored pupils stare at your rear. the way it jerks and recoils against him, everytime . . it’s the best part. even more when he spanks it, deepening his hips against your cunt to earn out a cute whine or two from you. for what seemed like the millionth time, toji kisses the right cheek of your ass with various spanks. the sting has you gnawing on your lip like it’s candy, curling your toes up with a few droplets of sweat coating the bridge of your nose. “missed this pussy, three days too fuckin’ long, brat.”

“i missed you t—.”

“girl hello? i wasn’t talking to you.”

you frown, and it follows from a snicker from him.

“. . . so dramatic,” he’d eye roll once he hears you blow out a cute sigh. “fine, i did miss you,” and that was only a half lie. you knew in actuality, he missed what’s between your legs. toji still remained sassy as usual, it never left and it’d always stay. he’s buried all into you, deep to the hilt that each time his angry reddened tip drives against that spot, you squeal out in sweet pleasure.

it didn’t take him long to locate it, your g-spot. after a while you start to feel your pussy open, spreading wide—gaping. he was so ridiculously big, it’s leaving such question marks floating over your forehead because how can someone be this thick.

with a gruff—toji groans, veins bulging through his veins as he yanks your hoodie forward into him. he’s lenient, at least for a good while. letting you have your fun, get drunk off his cock before he edges you a more . . . oh just maybe.

gojoclitoru: does anyone want the link to my only fans :(

willbang4curses: Idk who I wanna be more…

iamnotsugurugetoseriouslyiamnothim: i want your only fans @/gojoclitoru

hotpeach03: Toji please I’m a single mom

your chat continues to spate, it’s so much that as your eyes watch them all flood down the logs, you could barely read the words.

he’s so deep inside, you’re almost drooling.

the stretch—he always leaves you so full, lips all parted and that same gaping mouth opening. pant after pant, you’re heaving heavily with your chest feeling tight and warm. “so deep,” you’d shriek, and he makes your arch lower just a bit further. he’s hitting all the right spots, not missing a single area. his dick retreats as it pulls out, then back again—twitching all inside of your cunt, he lunges forward with his hips before making you plop on your chest. “. . . .ohmygodohmygoddd,” and you were so whiney, you still can’t believe such pathetic noises slither past your damp lips. engulfed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him tight, he spanks you again . . . and again, and again.

“miss me that bad, huh?” he starts to speak. his voice was a pitchy rasp. a gruff base hides underneath it and you can hear the grit lingering like he needs to clear his throat. nevertheless, you throb anyway as he’s jackhammering his cock right into your swollen cunt over, and over, and over. “that why ya keep walkin’ around with these outfits? with no fuckin’ panties underneath, yeah?”

“forgot,” you whimper, shuddering once you feel toji grow playful. he trails his thumb towards your neglected puckering hole, fiddling with it just to get a reaction out of you, and he does. “s-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

“you don’t just forget to put panties on, slut,” he groans, and he feels himself approaching soon. it’s at the tip of his tongue—he feels the burn arise in the lower parts of his thighs, veins contouring to bulge all throughout his body. “wonder what y’er old man would think. ya only pull this shit ‘cause ‘s just you ‘n me here.”

he was right.

then again—if you’d have your father here, you’d never pull a bold stunt like that.

you’d rather drop dead than save yourself the embarrassment. funny though, considering the amount of times you almost got caught.

“so . . ” you mumble, and that’s when he presses his weight right against you this time. ah, prone bone.

you were really in for it now, thickly you swallow before his weight merely hovers over your ass, really deep in you this time.

he vigorously rams his thick cock into your sweltering cunt that’s hugging him oh so tight. he’s such a tease too—using every few chances he gets to poke and gingerly rub a thumb against your pulsating hole.

sweet moans die from your throat as you’re clinging onto the bed—such force that the springs nearly collapse from the whopping amounts of weight creating sheer impact. each thrust, it rings rapidly throughout your ears before toji groans. “f—fuck,” he’d groan, ignoring your little attempts of pure bratiness. you were at your wits end, smothering your glossed lips together before you feel his rounded cockhead mash against your most forbidden spots. spots that was so deep inside the inner areas of your cunt that it makes you mewl out in pure ecstasy. “gonna make me fill you up, princess,” he huffs out, tugging even tighter on the bottom part of your cerulean blue pull over. “s—shit,” and his gruff voice pitches time and time again. for a moment, you think you can hear toji whimper. it was real subtle though, but you heard it. loud and clearly. “gonna take it like you always do?”

“yesyesyes,” you nod—words pouring out of your lips like a waterfall, kneading your fingers into your palms as you bawled up the bedsheets right into your hands. with hooded droopy eyes, you stare at the screen with a dumb expression—he then takes the opportunity to get closer, grabbing you by the hair before holding your head up in front of your thousands of viewers.

“yes what, girl.”

you whine, feeling how perfectly his dick mashed throughout your folds—so easy for him, he was so thick that the stretch was simply immaculate.

“yesss, ‘m gonna take your c-cum, toji,” you’d pant, feeling your own eyes roll backwards—you probably looked a mess in front of your own thirteen thousand viewers, but you could care less. all that your empty brain could fathom was how you were ludicrously stuffed with his hefty cock. he’s drilling into you so good that that it almost feels like a massage. rough fingers run down your spine with one hand, another holding your head by the hair like it’s a prized possession before you whimper. “fuck me, fuck me, fuh—”

toji slaps a hand over your mouth the minute he hears something from downstairs—sure enough, it had to be your father.

shit.

he must have came home early. you remember him mentioning to you he was taking a trip to the corner store after work, probably to get some booze for him and toji to enjoy for some dumb football game.

“honeyyy? you up there?”

you moan, almost feeling your eyelids grow heavy as he’s still holding your head up in front of your laptop—his reflection in the screen just pounding into you at full speed.

already, you’re coating the back of his hand with nothing but your damp saliva—such a dirty girl, preferably his dirty girl.

maybe you were a bit delusional, no. you were very delusional—maybe this could go somewhere? then. again, it was no secret on how toji’s only around to get his dick wet, a reality that you forevermore choose to ignore—until you’d soon find out how that would bite you in the ass later on.

dead silence—you’re just muffling out mewls right into his mouth, and as if on cue, toji ends up finishing inside of you. it’s so much, velvety ropes of hot nut that fill the very insides of your pussy, shooting straight into your womb that your tummy flutters. it’s so much to where it spews out of your hole, he’s gotta poke his thumb in and swipe some out with the way it continues to leak. it’s so dirty, then again—toji fushiguro was a dirty man, the dirtiest.

“are ya gonna reply ‘n let y’er old man know you’re getting off his best friend’s cock or . . ?”

his words, such a tease that he’s still slowly pumping into you. gradually but slow, he plugs into your walls—seeping with cum that oozes out of your folds and you stare at the screen with a cute cock-drunken expression. “mmph,” was your reply, the only reply you could formulate since his big hand almost covered your entire face. so you give him a concise nod, hooded eyes feeling dry from staring at the screen for so many amount of minutes.

eventually, your father leaves and returns back to what he was doing . . . phew.

“that’s right,” he whispers in a low risqué tone, bringing a kiss towards the left part of your neck.

so tender—you’re gathering the strength to sit up but you end up slumping forward. with a pathetic, ‘oof’ you land on your chest, your own climax at the very edge. it’s cute because you end up finishing around the same time—your chest feels heavy, lungs tightly collapsing and all. the perfect way to describe your orgasm was a bomb—a bomb that was ticking and ticking, preparing to detonate before it finally does. instead, the destruction was you squirting, all over toji’s dick that stuffed you full. he’s so close up to your ear, hot breath fanning against your earlobe before he continues to speak. “. . oh, y’er fuckin’ dumb right now, aren’t ya. can barely speak.” and he removes his hand to where a trail of your spit departs. so lewd, you’re spasming from your recent release before with a quick glance—you stare at your monitor. you surpassed your tip goal by a huge milestone, yet like toji said—you were too dumb to even process let alone acknowledge it.

“t—toji,” you whimper, feeling the remnants of his sweet and savory seed pour down the crevices of your thighs. it was sticky, sticking to your skin like glue, sweltering of its entirety.

“come here, princess.”

it surprised you. for once, he was being . . . soft.

you reach backwards, closing your laptop before leaning right into toji. you moan, feeling his beefy ripped arms wrap around you, bringing you right into his embrace. bulky arms go around your waist and he pulls you into a sloppily heated kiss.

simultaneously, your heart skips a few beats—a few, probably an understatement. he tastes sweet, you could make out a brief tang of liquor on his tongue—a taste you didn’t want to ever forget. as your tongue rummages against his, you moan once he gets a bit handsy, a hand going right between your legs to feel the mess he made. the mess you made yourself also.

breathy pants could be heard from your lips as you press your dampish perspiring hands all on his bare chest. he’s wearing a somewhat of a formal shirt — you tug on his collar, yearning for him to come closer, to touch you more, hold you more. something, whatever it was was just brewing up inside of the very depths, the very pits of your stomach.

toji groans, the warmth of his breath wafting against yours before he pulls you away to get a good glimpse of you. a big hand holds your waist, and his eyes peer into you for a long time before as if he hesitates—he kisses the top of your forehead, only to stare away with a scowl.

“. . . toji,” you murmur, and by this point you weren’t speaking with your brain—more so with your heart. it was apparent, especially with the way your droopy hooded eyes suddenly soften the moment you speak out the two syllables in his name.

“let me speak first.” he grouses, a thumb stringing alongside your back, gently strumming against your skin. with the way you gazed at him, making him lie back before aligning yourself, it was clear as day that you wanted more of him. he leans back, long strands of black hair run down his face with his legs sprawled before he prepares to finish.

you straddle him, sitting flat on his lap and he’s so warm—he’s a bit flustered, flaccid from his release and of course a bit sensitive. it’s quite rare to see toji in such a . . . vulnerable state. perhaps you soften him in a few ways or less. at least, that’s what you’d like to think.

it takes him a long time to formulate the words, it’s as if his tongue was tied—weird for him considering it’s toji, he’s always direct and blunt.

and yet for once, you have him speechless.

toji lets off a irritated sigh before while what seems like forever, he mutters out a gruff, “shit. i . . i think ‘m in love with you.”

“ . . . ”

[lilacgaby]

katsuki didn't expect to be here today.

with you, a gorgeous woman at that, laid in his arms. found passed out in the meadows, a flower bed beneath the two of you. time still, wind blowing through your bodies as you rested.

he had been out hunting, blowing off smoke. annoyed at his current situation of being forced to marry a woman he didn't know, one who'd likely never love him. one he knew he'd never love.

a life of loveless marriage, one he was raised under, scared him more than he'd pray tell.

he'd rushed out quickly, barging through the servants, the large doors, and his grand estate. only his bow and sword on him as he trekked through. familiar lands enveloped him, but the sight of you didn't. more importantly, the sight of you, who had started falling.

he was moving before he realized, catching you in muscled arms, the sad crunches of ruined flowers beneath him. though none compared to the sight of the one he held now.

his bow and sword discarded, hands moving out of instinct to wipe the tears off of your face. it was clear you weren't supposed to be out here, your dress one of a high noble, silks too expensive for a common folk to afford. a satchel.. one that bore an emblem that seemed all too familiar. thoug it didn't take his full attention. his body seemed all to keen to focus on you, his chest sought to match your breaths, hearts beating in tandem.

you awoke just a few moments later, eyes wide at the sight of him. he settled you next to him, as you spoke to him. "thank you, i don't know what came over me." you spoke gently, a tone of unconfidence as you looked down at your hands. a ring on your finger.

though it looked unfit on you.

"i understand." he replied gruffly, picking up his weapons behind him, hands feeling antsy to be occupied at the sight of the gorgeous stranger in front of him. "bad feelings 've been in the air lately, it seems."

you looked up at him finally, allowing him to get a clear view of your face. with eyes puffy, lips swollen and bitten, and cheeks red. he fought off a smile, this wasn't the time to be thinking of how cute you looked.

you let out a sigh of sorrow. "it's been getting to all of the heirs of age, it seems."

he held you for a minute longer, hands grasped together tightly, wordless comfort based of mutual understanding given. neither of you said anything, but you both felt like you needed it. he knew it in the way you didn't want to let him go. and you knew it in the way he didn't. it was hard for him to pull away, but he knew he had to.

after a beat, he stood up. lowering a hand to you. "no sense in worrying about the inevitable," you smiled slightly and took his hand. "right."

he looked at the sun, it was slowly falling, prime hunting time. "you should head back to wherever you came, it'll be night soon." you nodded, and brought a bag up from the floor, you opened it, and a bracelet was in your palms.

you handed it to him, the red ruby of the beads matching his eyes as they shinned in the sun. "take this, please."

he was taken aback, seemingly unaware of why you would do this for him. he tried pushing your hand away, but it was unrelenting. a stubborn look in your eyes and he rolled his, sliding it onto his wrist.

he moved to leave, when you grabbed your wrist. it was out of impulse, he felt the internal panic in your stance, your mouth hung open slightly, though no words escaping. finally though, you manage a weak, "your name?"

for the first time since his arrangement, he laughed. laughed at the simplicity of the gesture, at your expression, at his situation.

with a boyish smile, he rested your hand at your side, touch lingering for a second too long. "call me katsuki."

he turned to leave, feet feeling a little more heavy now, knowing he was walking away from you. someone he seemed to get along with so easily.

you yelled your name after him, the crunches of the grass underneath your shoes fading away too. you were gone now.

he looked back at you, feeling the beads of the bracelet under nimble fingers, before squeezing it in his palm.

the hunting went poorly, he was too distracted to aim. the night went painstakingly fast, the arrival of the family, his wife, the agenda for the day.

uncomfortable traditional clothes felt even heavier now, the chains of being binded to someone he didn't know being heavier than any chain he could break physically.

his head that was slumped on the table was now forced up, his mother kicking him in the foot to remind him to at least try and be polite. he sighed, a feeling of dread hanging over him as the footsteps neared.

each one was sealing his fate, the door click the nail in the coffin.

but all his negativity vanished, all poor thoughts ceasing at the sight of you. your eyes were just as wide as his, your hand over your face in shock. the entourage beside you confused at your expression.

"madam?"

"katsuki?" you whispered under your breath.

though he managed to hear you. how could he not when you demanded his attention so seamlessly?

but now it was his turn to be speechless. speechless at the prospect of your rank, of your arrival,

and at the realization that he'd be married to you.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans @lulumi1u @bakunis @twirlyphim @drawingforshitsandgiggles

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

[emacrow]

Damian and the Dumpster baby.

Damian was doing patrols, with a bit of a minor rescuing and feeding the strays animals until he heard a noise from a dumpster.

Tonight was going to be a storm coming, and he rather check up on the strays, feed them, fixing any of the secure hiding places he put out for them for rain occasionally, and try to smuggle 1 or 6 into the barn again without Father knowing. Alfred can keep a secret sometimes.

Jumping on the edge of the dumpster to see a plastic bag tied up on the pile of trash with something squirming inside, alive obviously. Oh if this another group of puppies, he going to find the culprit himself and break their kneecaps and arms this time.

Easily untying the plastic bag and opening to reveal.. a little baby.

Not a kitten or a puppy, a living breathing human baby, cut and tied umbilical and a pale with a unique birth mark in a shape of a lichtenberg from his tiny hand fading to his chest.

This..

This was out of Damian's comfort line.

He had dealt with saving animals, people, children, hell even toddlers. He never dealt with a baby before much less a newborn.

He could panic later as he hear the sounds of a storm brewing. Carefully picking up the baby by the back of the head and and by the body, using his cape to as a blanket to cover the obvious nudity of the baby. Climbing onto his Red Robin theme Doom Buggy.

Taking care of a baby is no different then taking care of a baby animal, right?

.....

.....

.....

.....

He got caught after 5 month and a half by Alfred during feeding Danyal time, while scolded him about hiding the baby instead of coming to him.

He had a good reason to though, last time he told Alfred about the last newest addition, Bruce sended the Jafar the Ligor to a sanctuary. He still felt betrayed by that.(even though now Jafar is happily spending his days with the other mixed big cat breed but still)

He done a good enough job taking care of Danyal, even though he had to secretly look up baby stuff, medicine, clothes, a soft bedded cot and diapers.(the smell was much less worse then the sewer) he considered himself a great care-taker.(even though in the back of his mind, he feared that he might had unlocked that genetic adopt-bat bait traits that Dick warned him about)

Damian had gotten.. a bit attached, considering the idea of putting danyal in orphanage or a foster care wasn't ideal afterall the corrupted ones that Father and him had broken through over the years left a bad gut feeling if he had actually gone through with his plan. Danyal was one of his babies, only not covered in fur, scales, or a shell.

And he didn't do everything all on his own, Cass was the only who figured it out, kept it a secret and help out.. then steph found out... and Jason, Tim and Duke unfortunately found out after Cass and steph snuck danyal in the manor for a nice bath.

Only reason Dick didn't found out because everyone know he can't keep a secret away from Bruce's ear for long after found out Jason's new girlfriend was the new therapist in Gotham, and telling Bruce would feed his adopt-holic again and he end up having baby fever. (Tim didn't tell him what that word meant but he did look it up in a baby care guide book for new parents. And EW)

They were going to wait it out til Danyal was at least toddler age before sneaking him in the manor to gatekeep gaslight girlboss Father into thinking he already adopted him. (Steph's words, not his)

New post <-