#I WILL /CREATE/ BLANKS TO FILL IN /BECAUSE/ I LOVE THIS THING SO MUCH

[musical-chick-13]

"Truly GOOD works don't have thriving fandoms because people aren't interested in fixing them, so what do they have to write fics/make art about."

Idk about you, but I don't write fic for properties I don't genuinely enjoy and think are, on some level, actually good.

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[mentally-gone002]

sick and into you

summary: spencer takes care of you while you’re sick

a/n: so obsessed with him i can’t!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

————————————————————————

ring… 

ring… 

ring-

“hello?” 

i pinched the bridge of my nose in a desperate attempt to make my piercing headache go away. my ringtone brought it back worse than it was before the loud interference. 

someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line before they spoke, “hey, are you coming into work? it’s almost noon.” 

it was spencer and he sounded worried. he had that little twinge of a rasp. i call it his “worry rasp” whenever i pick up on it.

i stifled a cough before answering. “no, i’m sick. i called hotch earlier to let him know.” the balled up tissue in my hand pressed into my runny nose. 

“do you need me to bring you anything?” his voice was still laced with concern i could pick up on even through the slight distortion the phone gave his voice.

i shook my head slightly and then answered him because he couldn’t see me. “no, spencer, i’m fine. plus, i have germs.” 

spencer scoffed. “everyone has germs.” his argument made me smile slightly. 

“but you don’t like germs. they make you feel icky.” 

“well, i can handle feeling ‘icky’ so don’t worry about me. i can go get soup from that cafe you really like.” he offered. i smiled at how he used the same word as me. it was something he definitely wouldn’t say any other time. “please, let me help you.” 

“spencer, i promise i’m okay. you stay at work and get all those excruciating files done, i’d love you so much if you did some of the ones on my desk. i’ll be back in two days tops, okay?” my throat hurt from that long running sentence so i started coughing. the phone moved away from my ear so he wouldn’t hear the extent of the ragged sound scrapping through my throat. 

when the phone came back to my ear it was quiet over the line. “you okay?” spencer asked after a beat of silence. i hummed, swallowing my spit to make the burn go away. “i’ll go so you can get some rest. drink a lot of water because it’ll flush out the sick. and try to eat.”

“okay… sorry i’m not in today.” i laid down on my couch with a groan. 

“don’t apologize.” spencer told me gently. 

i smiled with closed eyes. “okay. i’ll go now.” 

“okay, feel better. bye.”

“bye, spencer.” 

i dropped my phone next to me on the couch. i kept my eyes closed until i felt like i was drifting to sleep, which could have taken an hour or just two minutes. time didn’t matter because my headache slowly wore away until it was a light beating pain that matched my heartbeat. 

my body did that fake falling thing right as my mind went completely blank. i sat up in a rush, sweat creating a cling between my clothes and skin. my hair was messy and stuck to my neck and forehead.

once my body was upright i heard a sequence of knocking from my front door. 

with a groan i stood up. my muscles ached and i shivered at the feeling of my cold floor on my bare feet as i padded across it. i didn’t bother looking through the peephole before opening the door wide enough to see who was knocking. 

“spencer? i thought i told you to-“

“i know what you told me but i didn’t listen.” he held up a hand as he interrupted me. 

i nodded, squinting at the hallway lights from the complex. “obviously.” i stepped aside to let him in. “i look awful.” i grumbled to myself.

he smiled with tight lips as he did while he took off his shoes. he placed a plastic bag on my kitchen table near the door. “you look fine. maybe a little tired, but at least you don’t look like some of the people we see on cases.” he rambled while toeing off his shoes. 

my eyes were stuck on the bag on the table. “you got food,” i sighed, walking back to my living room to grab my almost empty glass of water. i filled it up at the sink before saying, “i told you not to do any of what you’ve just done.” my headache was starting to come back.

spencer unwrapped the bag he’d brought with him, placing a covered paper take out bowl to the side. “this is for you.” he looked at me, not replying to any of what i’d just said. his eyes lingered on me for a little longer than i’d liked. my arms went around my body to try and hide. i sniffled and tried to conceal a cough in my elbow. 

“thank you.” i grabbed a spoon from the dish rack beside the sink and then took the container of soup to my couch to sit inside the circle of blankets i’d been in just minutes before. 

spencer joined me. “i did a file or two that was on your desk.” he told me, reaching for a book on my coffee table to flip through it. 

“you didn’t have to do that. i was joking earlier.” my brows were pinched together in regret for saying it at all because he can’t tell when someone’s joking most if the time. 

he shrugged. “i knew that, but i still wanted to help you out.” 

i nodded. “thank you, but you shouldn’t have.” 

silence fell over the room while i ate slowly and he read half of the book i didn’t even see the title of. 

my brows furrowed suddenly. “what time is it?”

spencer glanced at the watch on the inside of his wrist. “five twenty-three.” he looked over at me, watching my face contort from confused to surprised. “what?”

“i slept for four hours between our phone call and you getting here.” i focused on the windows of my apartment to notice the dimming light from beyond the blinds and the glass.

“your body needed it.” he hummed gently. i looked back at him as he kept on reading. he’s too smart sometimes but it’s his trademark and it’s lovable. “sorry, i don’t know how to not be ‘boy genius’.” he smiled. 

can he read minds now? it wouldn’t surprise me. 

i nodded. “it’s okay, i like it.” the spoon in my hand brought more soup to my lips. “how’s the book?” 

“good. i haven’t read any of your books before.” he flipped to look at the cover while keeping his place. “this is the book jj and penelope were talking about during a case.” he hummed. 

i got a look at the cover and laughed. “twilight. you’ve never read twilight?” my question made him look at me and then hesitantly shake his head. “oh, my god. i have all the others if you wanna read the rest of them. they’re so good.” 

he smiled at me gently. “why is everyone so obsessed with a series about vampires and werewolves?” 

“it’s not just a series about vampires and werewolfs, spencer. it’s a complex romance.” i told him very matter-of-factly which ended in a coughing fit from the most use my voice had gotten all day. 

spencer moved closer, or i guessed he did because of how to couch dipped as i had my head turned away from him. he placed a hand on my back. “don’t overwork yourself by telling me about a series.” he was smiling, i could tell. “can i do anything?” 

i shook my head. “no, you’ve done a lot already. and you’re risking getting sick.” 

spencer sighed, keeping his hand on my back as he went back to reading with only one hand. “i don’t mind helping, you know.” he was too selfless. “i can run you a bath, or make you some tea. both would help you.” 

i sighed. “you are relentless, spencer reid.” the soup in my hands was placed on the coffee table so i could turn myself and face him. 

the hand he had on my back slid to my leg, resting a few inches above my knee. “i did come all this way.” he smiled, leaning further into the couch. “now let me help.” 

i sniffled and cleared my throat. “a bath would be nice.” 

he nodded and rose from the couch slowly. i watched as he walked around the couch and to my bedroom. i stood and followed. 

“you’re a good man.” i told him from the doorway of my bathroom. he looked back at me from the ledge of the bathtub. 

he smiled. “you’re the only person i’d do this for.” 

————————————————————————

idk why but i wanna do a part 2??? lmk if h should just because lolz

[mareastrorum]

I love villains, and I especially enjoy Brennan Lee Mulligan’s take on them. His version of Asmodeus in EXU Calamity and Downfall really highlights the reasons why.

A villain is the embodiment of the wrong conclusion. They aren’t always an antagonist; they aren’t necessarily meant to obstruct the protagonist of a story. Hell, they might even be helpful. Villains don’t even have to be evil, per se, they just have to be on the wrong path in the context of the story.

Asmodeus is a brilliant villain and as evil as it gets. He’s the Father of Lies, and he indulges in it deliciously. The lies are always half truths so that the protagonist fills in the blanks with assumptions and gets it wrong. He matches their energy to give them what they want to hear. He plays along with naivety and hope. He doesn’t take anything from people other than lives; they give the rest willingly because they want to believe him. Asmodeus finally reveals his deception when he has someone cornered because he wants them to know they did it to themselves. Asmodeus wants everyone he hurt to come to the realization that “I knew better and let this happen anyway.” He did it to Vespin Chloras, Zerxus Ilerez, and Sarenrae.

From EXU Calamity episode 4, after Zerxus realizes he’s been had:

Asmodeus is the embodiment of the desire to punish, and he’s the villain because he’s wrong. That mentality is rooted in hatred. He is convinced that everyone deserves eternal torment, and he wants everyone to agree with that conclusion.

The purpose of Asmodeus is that we shouldn’t inflict punishment based on some idea that the person deserved it. Yes, revenge and victory feel good. Yes, there are often valid reasons to be angry or defensive. Yes, we can come up with a reason to justify punishment. But hurting people because they deserve it is exactly what Asmodeus does. There is always a way to rationalize that someone deserves punishment—so the right answer is that this feeling cannot be a sufficient reason to do harm. That isn’t good enough.

It’s so easy to say “they deserve it” when we know the end result is that Aeor will be destroyed and the surviving legacy is ruins full of monsters. It feels good when we think people deserve to suffer and then we get to see it happen. It feels righteous.

Vespin Chloras deserved to be remembered as a traitor because he was arrogant enough to think he could replace Asmodeus—in an age where another mage already replaced the god of death and yet another mage created a machine that killed two primordials. Zerxus Ilerez deserved to be a thrall of Asmodeus because he chose to take up the mace and contributed to the problems that got him in that dilemma—because he so fervently believed that under all that hatred was a person who needed a chance to change his mind. Sarenrae deserved to lose her followers because she decided to trust the Father of Lies—because she loved her brother and offered him mercy.

It’s so easy to conclude that someone deserves pain. Asmodeus is here to remind us specifically that it’s not the right way to handle anything.

Asmodeus is also a rather effective villain because he is supposed to be irredeemable. Archetypal villains are wonderful tools for setting audience expectations. Whether Brennan plays that straight or decides to subvert it, there isn’t as much work needed to persuade us that Asmodeus is that evil or cruel. We already believe that he’s capable of doing the worst things imaginable. Toying with those expectations is a great storytelling exercise.

Asmodeus didn’t shock us in EXU Calamity because we didn’t expect him to be evil. He was shocking because he is such a skillful liar that we wanted to believe him. It would be such a satisfying story that a well-meaning paladin was the first person to show kindness to the Father of Lies and managed to atone him. Brennan’s portrayal made us want that subversion so badly even though we knew better. Asmodeus lured us into the same trap as the characters, and then we saw the outcome: punishment—because Asmodeus will use any reason to justify it and every opportunity to inflict it.

In Downfall, Brennan could have easily rationalized that the protagonists wouldn’t agree to the truce if Asmodeus was on the infiltration team. The audience would have absolutely found that plausible. He didn’t have to be here. The decision to include Asmodeus on the side of the protagonists gives us a heads up that the story will grapple with questions about punishment.

What do I need to see before I am justified in destroying a city with no survivors? Do I have to concern myself with bystanders? Do the fearful deserve to die for choosing to oppose me? Don’t they deserve it for creating such objectionable technology and magic? Don’t I deserve the chance to live without fear of those lesser than myself? Don’t they deserve to die for corrupting those I loved? Don’t they deserve it for being loved more than me?

Why isn’t hatred a good enough reason to hurt someone?

Again, villains are tools to highlight the wrong conclusions. Asmodeus is involved to highlight that the desire for punishment isn’t a sufficient reason to destroy Aeor. The other characters, villains or not, are here to show us what other justifications there might be. Their interactions are going to brush across these themes over and over again.

I fucking love villains, and no one plays a villain quite like Brennan does.

[manicpixiefelix]

This is going to sound so pretentious to say, but I think that one of the most incredible things Emerald Fennell did with Saltburn was give it's audience both everything and nothing all at once. But which I mean that every moment we see on screen is so carefully chosen and wonderfully detailed. Every second of the story that Oliver chooses to tell us is perfectly crafted to give us the exact story he wants to create, nothing more and nothing less. Saltburn's narrative lives and dies in Oliver's obsessive recollection, his confessional. Its why these characters who are so clearly and wonderfully rich below the surface can, at a glance, come off as shallow. Oliver didn't care!! And the one he did care about, he gatekept so jealously (I saw someone else's meta discussing this and I absolutely agree) to the point where we as an audience barely know who Felix was. We don't even know who Oliver was, at the end of the day; he was manipulative and ambitious and obsessive and - I could not tell you a single thing he genuinely liked that wasn't Felix. Because that's it, isn't it. That's the story of Saltburn. Everything revolved around Felix, and Felix was everything, and so Oliver's story only focuses on the absolute tragedy of having everything and then losing everything in that one Summer.

And nothing else.

Emerald gave us the gift of Oliver's everything, and the vague, nebulous nothing that he cares about just behind it. The hints of more, jumping off points of intrigue and imagination, things we can extrapolate from and speculate about. There is so much room in this world around it's implications and offhand remarks for us to all build upon. We don't even know if Venetia is Felix's older or younger sister???? There is limitless space to play in this world, both before the events of the film, but also between the few moments Oliver chooses to show us. We see twenty minutes of Oliver's Full First Year at Oxford before he goes to Saltburn, so much of how he falls for Felix and becomes his friend goes so unsaid and unseen, little more than a montage, and Barry and Jacobs's phenomenal chemistry selling their closeness, so we don't have to know each detail.

But that's the thing, that's just bliss; the falling in love is a given in this story, he opens with that. These moments would simply be nothing on the road to everything.

Its like Emerald Fennell is kissing me directly on the forehead and giving her blessing to fill in the blanks. She knew we would; she literally said she knew Saltburn would be a hit on Tumblr, she knew what she was doing. This film was made for those of us who like to over analyse media and also create vivid and intricate headcanons and sometimes both at the same time.

Tumblr, and creatives especially, love Saltburn because it deliberately lets us play in its world, in that sweet spot between everything and nothing, all at once.

[margotw10bis]

Blank Pages. JJK [m]

bestfriend!jungkook x reader

Genre: one-shot; smut; romance; non-idol!jk; f2l

Words: 8k

Synopsis: You have a secret: you're a popular writer on Wattpad. The worst thing that could happen is your best friend Jungkook to discover that your erotic novels are about him...

Warning: protected sex; oral sex (f. receiving); writing of sex scenes

JK was pounding into me at an animalistic pace. I couldn't help screaming his name due to the overstimulation of the three precedent orgasms. His grip around my hips tightened as he was reaching his high. A few more dick strokes were provided before I could feel his hot shots of cum inside my pussy.

It didn't take long for the both of us to fall asleep, exhausted by the intense sex ride.

Your cheeks are red when you finish posting the new chapter of your story on your Wattpad account. Vivid images of the imaginary roll in the hay fill your brain — and your panties with wetness. You always feel the same after writing a sex scene starring your best friend: horny and guilty. You can't imagine how Jungkook would react if he knew he was the main character of a popular erotic online novel... You would die of embarrassment, knowing your best friend, whom you are madly in love with, had discovered your deepest sexual fantasies — featuring him. On the other hand, writing those filthy stories is your way to control both your feelings and your desires. Jungkook is your best friend, you can't risk your friendship.

You didn't have any thoughts other than trying to contain your sexual attraction for him when you created your Wattpad account. You had never thought that so many people would read your stories. You can't deny that you feel kind of proud that people love your writings but you also feel horrified that so many strangers are fantasying — and obviously masturbating — on your best friend. You are so glad that you kind of anonymized him by using his nickname JK. You mean, people could think it stands for Jin-Keon, right?

Just as if you needed some reminder that your writing is nothing but fiction, your phone screen brights up to notify a new message from the very same Jungkook.

'Hi, buddy! We're going to the club with the guys, wanna join?'

You hate so much when Jungkook calls you 'buddy'. It's so far away from the nicknames you wish he'd give you. In your stories, JK always uses 'baby', 'babe', sweetheart' and this is what you want... Not a stupid 'buddy' like you were his classmate in sixth grade!

You growl in frustration and answer that you're too tired and you're just going to bed. Your best friend replies that he is disappointed not to see you tonight and you hate how your weak stupid heart melts at that. You are also disappointed not to see him tonight or every single day of your life. You wish you could go home after work and know that Jungkook is waiting for you before heading to bed, together. You know damn well those are silly thoughts and maybe that's why they hurt so much. They are too far away from reality.

As you think.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You hum, half-asleep as you feel something moving against you. You tighten your arms around the thing next to you to keep it still. However, it moves again to softly caress your hair.

"Y/N, let's go to bed" A whispered voice says

You lowly growl and bury your face deeper into the thing you're hugging. If you weren't in this sleepy state, you could notice that what you have in your arms is actually Jungkook. He doesn't really mind and it's not the first time your movie night ends up with you falling asleep. He'd just let you gradually collapse on him because he knows you always feel cold when you are sleeping. So he is happy to provide some warmth while you're visiting Morpheus' world. He even rested his arm around your shoulders to be a little more comfortable to watch the end of the movie — and enjoying this excuse to hug you.

But now, the film has ended and the couch is not the best place for a full night of slumber. Jungkook sighs when he accepts the fact that you just won't wake up. He tries, as gently as he can, to stand up and lifts you up in his arms. He pushes his bedroom door open with his foot, which causes him to almost loose balance. Finally, his mission is a success when he lands you on his bed without waking you. He smiles softly as he looks at you. He wonders what you are dreaming about right now. Are you having nightmares because of the horror movie? Or are you in a happy place full of your loved ones? He hopes for the latest.

He heads to the bathroom, brushes his teeth and joins you in bed. He knows you don't bother sleeping with him — it's not the first time either. And honestly, if he knew your feelings for him, he could be even more aware of how poorly you care. He makes sure the covers are tightly wrapped around you and scoots closer to hug you. He likes how your smaller body fits in his embrace — it's way better than his usual pillow. He gives you a small peck on the top of your hair and follows you in dreamland.

The sunlight coming through the unwell closed curtains wakes you up. You're surprised not to feel cold as usual in the morning. You want to lift your hand to rub your swollen eyes but you can't: something, or more like someone is completely wrapped around you. Your eyes snap open when you realize it's Jungkook. You turn your head and your heart melts at the sight: his sleepy face is so cute, especially with his pouty lips. You're close enough to clearly see his scar on the cheek as well as the little molds on his nose and under his lower lip. You wish you could taste its softness. You move carefully to free one arm and you caress your best friend's hair as softly as you can to not wake him up. You almost moan when you feel how silky it is underneath your fingertips. God, Jungkook is so perfect that it hurts to look at him.

Your heart beats fast in your chest due to the proximity but it suddenly stops when Jungkook, in his sleepless, presses you closer against his body. And then, you feel it. As clear as day. His morning wood. It stands hard against your lower belly and you gulp. Does your saliva drive straight to your pussy? Because your panties are now soaked. Oh god, Jungkook's cock is pressed against you and you love it. All kind of sinful scenarios take control of your brain and you wish your best friend was a sleepwalker but more like a sleepfucker. Okay, you are clearly deranged...

A normal person would try to bring some space between your two bodies but you do the opposite: you scoot closer, almost grinding on his boner.

Small sleepy growls from Jungkook make you stop moving as you really don't want your best friend to know how much of a sexual freak he is turning you into.

"Good morning, goober" Jungkook says with his sexy raspy voice before kissing your forehead

"Hi" You reply with cheeks as red as a tomato

Fuck, you still feel his dick but Jungkook doesn't seem in a rush of stepping away. Does he not feel it? Or maybe he does and he needs some friction because he fucking holds you tighter. You wish you could feel embarrassed but it's not the main emotion you experience: your horniness takes the most of you. If Jungkook doesn't release you soon, you could jump on him to ride him. Perhaps all the hot sex scenes you have written are messing up with your brain and you can't distance fantasy from reality.

(Un)fortunately, your best friend frees you to stretch. You try your best not to peak at the tent of the sheets caused by his hard-on. Jungkook leaves the bed and stands up in front of you, asking about breakfast with a very distant — according to you — voice. However, you can't focus on any words he is saying because the only thing that gets your attention is his — huge — bulge in his boxing shorts. He clearly doesn't wear any briefs and your mouth waters at the fact there is just one layer of fabric separating you from his cock — and also a whole moral code but you can't care about it right now. On the hand, it's not like Jungkook would stop you but you don't have any idea of it. A sparkle of playfulness brightens his doe eyes as he notices how you are gazing at his dick.

"Are you even listening to me?" Jungkook asks while snapping his fingers right in front of your face

"I-Jungkook, you..." You start but struggle to find the words that won't make you look like a sexual freak

"What?"

"You, uhm, seem to be awaken" You eventually decide to say

Jungkook looks at you with a faked questioning face and you point at this crotch. Rather than to be embarrassed, your best friend smirks proudly.

"Impressed, right?" He teases you and your cheeks take a new brighter tint of red

"Jungkook!" You scold him but you secretly are impressed by his obvious blessed area — way bigger than you have wrote

Your best friend just laughs with his childlike cheerful chuckle and announces that he'll cook some rice with sausages. You fall back on the bed, sighing in frustration. Jungkook is driving you crazy and you wish you could take off his wry smile by sitting on his pretty face. However, you decide it would be wiser to just sit on a chair and have breakfast with him.

"I could like to go to Songdo Beach today and go on a ride of the Busan AirCruise" You say at one point, your mouth full of food which makes barely impossible for Jungkook to understand you

"Why? You already did it a hundred of times"

"But it's raining today!" You pout "You know I love the atmosphere the rain gives to the skyline"

Your best friend does know it. You have told him countless of times how relaxing you find the sound of the rain on the glass cable car and the pale blue, almost lavender color, the Busan sky gets tinted on rainy days. Jungkook sighs to pretend it's a burden to go with you but you both know he likes it too.

As usual, the queue is not that long. Busan people tend to stay home or to take shelter in the numerous trendy coffees. What a shame people don't appreciate how nice it is to fly upon the near ocean while raindrops surround you. As usual, Jungkook buys the tickets for the two of you. You don't quite understand why he insists every time to pay but you can't deny it is heart-warming. Your best friend knows it's one of the things you love the most in life so he just wants you to enjoy it entirely.

A soft smile paints your lips as you step in the cable car. Slowly elevating you in the sky, you watch the nearby buildings growing away between the big and round drops of water. The sight is blurred yet so poetic. The glass floor allows you to take a peak at the waves and if you look at the ocean side, you can see some huge cargo boats, waiting in Busan bay to deliver their merchandise.

The calm atmosphere, enhanced by the melody of the rain on the glass, soothes you. However, Jungkook couldn't just let you be and he suddenly moves to make the cable car swing. You scream and scold him which only makes him laugh. As usual.

"Let's take a picture" Jungkook says while pulling off his phone from his oversized bomber jacket pocket

Then, he sits next to you and frames to crystalize both your two faces and the skyline in the background on the photo. You and your best friend smile brightly. If someone asks Jungkook right now, he could say that it's one of sunniest days ever because of how radiant you are.

"A last one" Jungkook announces

He clicks on the button to snap the picture at the exact moment he pecks your cheek. The photo clearly notifies how surprised you were, your eyes growing wider and your mouth slightly opened. However, your shy face mixed with your blushed cheeks make you really, really cute in Jungkook's opinion. He can only chuckle as he gazes at the picture with affection eyes. He will definitely make it his new wallpaper.

However, the small peck you have received from your best friend moves you more than it should. Your heart beats so loud in your chest that it seems to echoes down to your toes. You try to calm down and you resonate: it doesn't mean anything for your best friend. It's just a small friendly peck. Fuck, you write some erotic stories in which the characters fuck like beasts, you can't be all shaken up by a stupid kiss on the cheek!

You soothe your crazy heart by focusing on the view of the grey tinted skyline and on the few people defying the rain with their umbrellas. Deep down, you know it's the best memory you will have on the Busan cable car despite the numerous times you went on.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"What do you think about this one?" Jungkook asks you a few days later while presenting another shirt in a dark blue color

You try hard to put a smile on your face to hide your painful chest. Does your best friend have any idea that helping him choosing an outfit for his date is torture for you? You could wince at the pain if you didn't have to act like normal.

"I think the white one is better" You answer nonetheless "You can't go wrong with it"

Jungkook nods and then finishes you completely: he casually takes off his t-shirt, flashing you with his so perfect buff chest. If it's true that you sometimes gripe when your best friend spends two hours at the gym, you are so thankful of it now. You practically drool when your eyes run through his flexing biceps — the right one delicately wrapped with ink —, his well-defined pecs and his fucking hot abs. You almost faint when your glance ends up its route on his very low pants, making his V-line and the hem of his black underwear visible. His skin seems so soft, your fingertips tickle at the thought of touching it. Fuck, this is better than anything you have ever written. You gulp when you think about all the nasty things you could like to do with Jungkook's torso.

"So, what do you think?"

Jungkook's question snaps you out of your fantasies but you have absolutely no idea of what he is talking about. Suddenly, the thread escaping from your jeans is very much interesting and you just pray that Jungkook hasn't noticed how you were eying him.

"About what?" You timidly ask

"Gogi Yummy, the restaurant I'm taking her to. Do you think it's a good idea?"

Your heart squeezes painfully when you think about Jungkook having a perfect date, doing everything you could like him to do, with someone else. You wish you could be a good best friend and be happy for him but the truth is that you love him too much not to feel hurt when he is going on a date.

"I think it's great" You reply as cheerful as you can be but still not looking to him in an attempt to hide the hurt in your eyes

"What about you?" Your best friend suddenly asks

"What about me?" You repeat his words with confusion, brows furrowed

"When are you going on a date?" He clarifies

You sigh while notifying him that you don't have time to look for a date. The real reason is obviously your feelings for Jungkook, you don't want anyone else but him.

"You know Jimin, right? The last time I saw him, he told me you were cute. Maybe you should give him a chance" Jungkook tells you with an encouraging tone but you only wince, which makes him sigh "Look, if my date goes well, we'll do something together, the four of us. This way, you won't feel pressured. How does it sound?"

Awful. But there is no way you'd confess that, especially when Jungkook is looking at you with his sparkling doe eyes and his so cute bunny smile. So you tell him that it's a great idea and you hope, even more than before, that his date is a disaster so you don't have to go on a double-date during which you won't be the partner of the person you love.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

JK was drawing delicious patterns on my clit with his tongue. I couldn't help tugging on his raven hair, not really knowing if it was to stop him or to urge him to do it harder. My breathe was cut when I felt a long and thick finger sliding into me, automatically making my walls clench around it.

"I'm close"I told JK, which provoked a proud smirk on his face

His only mission on Earth seemed to be providing me great orgasms — and he'd never failed.

"Come on, baby. Make me taste your yummy juices" He teased me, sending me on the edge

He stood up and took off this t-shirt so I could admire his delicate yet strong torso, the definition of perfection. His muscles were making me feel all kinds of butterflies in my stomach — or was it the remains of the orgasm? — and JK knew it well. He knew he was teasing me, and the way he was flexing his muscles proved me right. My mouth watered and my hand caressed the bulge of his six-pack. His tattoos always had an effect on me, making him as intriguing as sexy. A sin I wouldn't care to go to Hell for.

I wished I had time to enjoy it more but I had to go to work — JK's cunnilingus made me late as it made me come.

You save the last chapter and publish it on Wattpad. You stroll through the comments and smile when you read some very supportive ones. Almost every readers are in love with JK — only of they knew that real life Jungkook is one hundred times better. You sigh in content and close your laptop, ready to head to bed but your phone rings, stopping your plans of having a good and relaxing sleep.

'My date went great. Save your Friday night buddy cause we have a date ;)'

Why does your best friend have absolutely no clue of the draggers he is stabbing into your heart? To be fair, he went on this date because he thinks he doesn't stand a chance with you but you obviously don't know that. You growl and turn in your bed, tugging your sheets around you like if you were a burrito. Yes, going on a date with Jungkook is one of your dreams but going on a double-date with Jungkook having another date than you is a nightmare. You spend the night ramming through all the possible ways the date can go, which leads you to cry when scenarios of your best friend kissing a girl in front of you play in your mind.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You growl while taking your clothes out of the washing machine. You don't what went wrong but it seems like every single pieces of clothing has sized down. Well, you could guess what went wrong: you were deep in thought and clicked on the wrong washing program. You sigh when you see your favorite dress... A slight and ridiculous hope that maybe it's not too bad makes you try it on, which takes you way more efforts than usual. But it only confirms what you thought: the red dress is now so tight that it looks like a second skin. The bottom hem barely covers your underwear and shows some of your ass in the back. And let's not talk about the neckline because it's worse: half of your bra is on display.

Of course, fate is never on your side — because it has been such a nice day so far. You hear your front door opening and it only means one thing: Jungkook is here. He is the only one to have a spare key — which was supposed to be for emergency but turned out to be a way to visit you without warning every time he is in the mood to. You start to panic but you don't have time to cover yourself as your best friend's pretty face appears. You feel embarrassed to show so much skin to Jungkook, even though you often fantasize about him seeing way much more. Shock — and some other expression that you could interpret as lust — paints his features. His eyes run through your very exposed body and your cheeks match the color of your 'dress'.

"Are you going to wear that?" Jungkook asks with a as natural as possible tone while he places his hands in front of his crotch to prevent you from noticing his growing boner

"Are you crazy?!" You defend yourself "I fucked up my laundry, that's all. I have no other choice than to throw away my favorite dress" You sigh in despair

On the other side, Jungkook likes the new style of the dress. It's now his favorite. Fuck, you're hot. You look so naughty. And it's even better when you turn around and some of your asscheeks are visible. He wonders how they would jiggle if he'd spanked you. He knows he shouldn't have this kind of thoughts about you but he can't help it. Your body is so fucking perfect. The peak he had of your big rounded tits, covered by your bra which led appear the shadow of your picky nipple, and the almost peak he had of your panties drive him mad. He does't think you should throw the dress away. You should keep it. For him. For when he fucks you.

Jungkook tries to get rid off those thoughts but his hard-on makes it difficult. When you send him off to change, he gladly accepts and opens your fridge, pretending he is looking for some soda, to let the cold soften his cock. You'll be the death of him.

"What are you doing here?" You asks, making your best friend jolt

Jungkook grabs a random can and turns around to discover you are now wearing your usual light green sweatpants and an oversized t-shit — former his, if he might add. You are really messing with his brain because earlier, with your tiny dress, he could pretend that his attraction was just a normal one of a guy seeing a sexily clothed girl. But now, even with a not so appealing outfit, he still thinks you're beautiful and hot.

You lift one brow when your best friend doesn't answer. Jungkook clears his throat and tries to gather his thoughts. He needs to focus on something other than you, otherwise he risks to cancel all his plans to fuck you against your washing machine.

"I wanted to ask you if you wanted to grab some food at PadThailand. It's been a while and I know you like it"

Your heart melts at the fact that Jungkook thought about you before ordering from one of your favorite restaurants. Your smile seems to illuminate the place, so much that your best friend wishes he had sunglasses. You nod with enthusiasm, spurring Jungkook to call the restaurant and book a table.

You've changed, for the third time of the day, into a simple jeans and long sleeves sailor top. You feel proud to match the area of PadThailand, the restaurant being close to one of the small ports of Busan. Delicious scents of fresh cooked fish fill the air, putting you in the mood of eating. You could even change your usual order and try the lemongrass cod fish. You giggle with eagerness, you can't wait to have your stomach full of delicious food.

"You look like you're in a good mood" Jungkook notices, a few meters from the restaurant location

"Of course!" You reply, cheerful "I'm going to one of my favorite restaurants and I'm with my favorite person"

You don't realize how your words made Jungkook stop his track. You continue your way to the door while Jungkook is trying his best to hide his wide bunny grin.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Friday night. The day of your 'date'.

You did make an effort on your outfit, opting for a cute black denim skirt and silver top. Actually, you were quite surprise when you stepped into the restaurant and discovered that your clothes matched Jungkook's. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought that people around you would mistake you two as a couple. However, the euphoria left soon as your eyes landed on your best friend's date: a gorgeous girl named Minji. It took you everything you have to smile at her and lie while saying 'nice to meet you'.

Thankfully, the awkward silence that was getting set at your table disappears with Jimin's arrival. You can't deny that the brown haired man is handsome. Honestly, if you weren't so head over heels for Jungkook, you could kill to kiss Jimin's pulp lips. You also like the white light cotton t-shirt with longs sleeves Jimin chose to wear: the thin fabric gives a peak of his dark inked patterns. Do you have a tattoo kink? Well, it's definitely Jungkook's fault.

After ordering some drinks and food, you are starting to think that the night is not a complete torture — despite the occasional kisses between Jungkook and Minji. The girl is actually very nice and tries her best to find common tastes between the two of you. It honestly would be way easier if she were a bitch... You can't even hate her!

Jimin, on the other hand, is funny and shares a lot of stories of his last holidays which were a rollercoaster of unpleasant events. You don't have to force yourself to laugh and genuinely find his company pleasant. Yet, you can't imagine having feelings for someone other than Jungkook. You love him like you've never loved before. He swipes away every competition without even trying. He is more handsome, funnier, nicer than anyone else. He knows you more than anyone and he knows how to help you before you can even say you need him. It's like he can read in your mind, what a shame he can't see in your heart that it's full of him...

However, Jungkook begins to regret having set a date for you. Yes, he is Minji's date but it's just an attempt to stop thinking of you. Actually, he thought that if you were with Jimin, it would help him putting an end at his stupid crush. But the dragger in his heart when you smile at Jimin is a clear reminder that it's not just a silly crush... Jimin is having everything Jungkook wants to have with you. He wants to take you at the restaurant, as a date, just the two of you. He genuinely had more fun at PadThailand with you the other day — when he could pretend it was a real date, even if it was just in his head — than now with Minji. But he thinks you'll refuse if he asks you out, you have never acted like Jungkook could be something other than your best friend.

"Hey, Y/N" Minji starts with a cheerfulness that you can imagine innate in her "You said you love reading. You should follow this Wattpad account"

She hands you her phone and you stop breathing when your very username appears on the screen. Your whole body freezes and your blood is redirected in your legs to run away.

"The author is so good! Her writing is amazing" Minji continues

The compliments would please you in other circumstances but right now, it's the worst thing ever.

"And fun fact, the character of JK makes me think of you" She adds as a killer shot for you when she turns to address Jungkook

You feel so ashamed that you just keep your head down, the phone giving you a great excuse for it. You wish you could just curl up and die. Oh my god, what if Jungkook reads it? What if he knows it's about him? He will definitely know JK is supposed to be him! And he will fucking know how you dream about him fucking you in all kind of lustful fantasies! He'll think you're sick and deranged, there is no other way. He'll think you are obsessed with him and will cut all ties with you. Your throat is so tight that you can't even breath properly. You need to escape, far and fast.

You wait ten minutes not to sound suspicious and then fake an emergency, lying that you have received a text from one of your friends. Jimin, so kind by nature, offers you to drop you off but you refuse, even though you do appreciate the gesture. You basically run away and yell a taxi to head home as fast as possible.

Panic takes control of your body, making you shake and breath heavily. You walk back and forth in your bedroom as you wonder how you are going to get rid off this troubled situation. You definitely can't delete your Wattpad account now, it'd look way too suspicious. The only thing that soothe you is that Jungkook doesn't like reading so he won't look at your — erotic — stories. Right?

Why did you have to write those? You are so stupid, fantasizing on your best friend and making the whole world know! You should have kept your sexual dreams in your bed, rather than crystalizing them on white pages.

Your hands cover your burning cheeks before going to the bathroom and splashing some cold water on your face as a ridiculous attempt to wake up from this nightmare.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Two weeks have passed since the double-date. Jungkook and you have hanged out like nothing happened — actually for Jungkook nothing happened. However, even though you really wanted to hide from him out of embarrassment, you couldn't without presenting yourself as the culprit of these stories. Your best friend was his usual self and he didn't even talk about your Wattpad account, which slowly relieved you. Like you said, Jungkook doesn't like reading, he won't do it so you can live your life without thinking about it anymore. You did stop writing though and you felt sad when you've read comments of people missing you and waiting for the next chapter.

What you don't know is that Minji has insisted so much, arguing that the main male lead of your story was just like Jungkook, that your best friend took on himself to browse through your Wattpad account. And he read everything. At first, he was quite amused at the resemblance: more than the JK name, the fictional character has black hair and tattoos just like him. The sex scenes were intense but still a little too soft for Jungkook who likes it real rough — but it's not like you can know it. But then, Jungkook grew suspicious, some scenes being very familiar to him. Like the one of the two main characters going to the beach but can't to swim because they forgot their swimsuits. Or the one when they were cooking together and JK seasoned the meal the narrator took hours to cook with sugar instead of salt. Another example was an argument between the two characters over the film they should watch at the theatre. Jungkook clearly remembered a very similar scene with you that ended up just like the book: him buying his own ticket for Fast&Furious and you throwing your popcorn on him.

A — absolutely ridiculous and impossible — thought came to his mind: were you the author? That couldn't be. You were his best friend, and you've never seemed to be interested in him — despite his endeavours he might add. But then, how could the scenes in this book be so much like the ones you two'd shared? And then, a crazier thought lighted up in his brain: are all the sex scenes you have written one of your desires? Would you like him to fuck you, to finger you, to lick you? Thinking about your pretty face torn by pleasure made him hard in his pants. He went though the hot scenes for a second time, trying to acknowledge what you like. As insane as it might seem, if Jungkook has the chance to, he'll fuck you and he wants to be prepared. Well, that's if you are indeed the author of the book. Which is such a foolish idea that he can't allow himself to grow too excited because the odds are not in Jungkook's favors.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You are heading to Jungkook's place after receiving a text from him. He asked you if you wanted to watch a movie and you accepted. However, when you enter his apartment — you also have a spare key of your best friend's door —, the usual bowl of popcorn is no where to be seen. Jungkook has a ravishing look with his grey sweatpants and black oversized t-shirt. It's just his common look but it's so good on him.

"Hi" You greet him with a hug "You don't have any popcorn?"

"No, but maybe I have some underbaked cookies that we could eat with ice cream" He replies

You just freeze. Those underbaked cookies with ice cream are something you've written in your story. Did Jungkook read it? It's a catastrophe. You have to act like it's nothing, like you don't know what he means but god, you're such a shitty actress and your best friend knows you better than anyone else.

"Why would I want underbaked cookies?" You ask but your tone is so unsure that it only betrays you

"I don't know" Jungkook starts "Maybe because I'll get to eat you out to be fully satisfied"

Oh god. He. Did. Read. Everything. You wish the ground opened underneath your feet to swallow you whole. You throat is too dry to reply anything and your burning cheeks are screaming 'I'm the author! I'm guilty your Honor!'. You want to run away but you can't, your body refuses to move and you just keep looking down. You are so ashamed that your eyes get watery. Jungkook must hate you to have sexualized him like you did. Worse, you published this sexualized version of your best friend on the Internet and thousand of people have read it.

"Why did you write those stories?" Jungkook asks you

His tone is not harsh but not sweet either. It's just a little softer than neutral and it hurts in your heart.

"I don't know" You whisper with a shaky voice

"Don't lie to me, Y/N" Jungkook cups your face with his hands to force you to look into his so beautiful doe eyes "Tell me, I'm just trying to understand"

You are destabilized not to see any anger or disgust on your best friend's face. You thought he could be furious but he is not. He really seems curious to know. But that would mean you'd have to confess your feelings and you're not ready to hurt.

"It's just things that came to my mind" You half-lie

"So it doesn't mean anything?"

Your mouth opens in surprise at your best friend's question. Or more precisely at his tone. It's like he is hoping for it to mean something. You're taken aback. It's really not the reaction you expected. You remove his hand from your face so you can try to think again. You're lost in all the overwhelming emotions you're experiencing.

"I-" You start but nothing follows

You don't know what to say. Especially when Jungkook is looking at you with such an intense yet loving eye. Like he wants you. All of you. Your mind, your heart and your body. And you'll be happy to give them to him actually.

"Do you love me, Y/N?"

Once again, your eyes widen. You shouldn't be this surprised, it is just a logical question to ask after your interaction. You want to tell him but you're scared. Jungkook is perfect. He is the most handsome man but it's nothing compared to his personality. He is sweet and caring. He is hard-working and never gives up. He is supportive and always willing to help his friends. He is so perfect. Too perfect for you. You have nothing to offer him, he could find someone better just by snapping his fingers. But your best friend stops all those negative and destroying thoughts when he speaks again.

"You don't have to tell me" Jungkook says with a deep voice you've never heard before "I won't either. But I will show you"

With those last, enigmatic words, he cups your face with his tattooed hand. A immediate feeling of warmth rises upon the area he is touching. His thumb caresses your cheek, so delicately that you could think Jungkook is afraid to break you, but it soon drifts away to land on your bottom lip. The thinner and pinkish skin is soft underneath the pad of his finger and he can't wait any longer: he needs to feel the softness with his own mouth.

He kisses you and god, what a perfect kiss. The best one ever. His pulp lips feel like silk. The pressure is the right one: deep enough to draw butterflies in your stomach but not too much to completely overpower you. Jungkook wants to give you the opportunity to stop the kiss if you want to. But you surely don't want to. Quite the opposite: you want more.

Your hands go up to hide in his black hair to keep him close. It's the sign Jungkook waited to deepen the kiss. His hands are now on your back, pressing you closer against his strong body. Everything is just right. You seem to know each other's body like your own. Jungkook said he was going to show you he loved you and he does. The kiss is passionate but so loving at the same time. You have the feeling to fall in love with him all over again.

Without breaking the kiss, he leads you to his bedroom, which is easy since you know well his apartment. Jungkook takes off your shirt and he looks at your breasts long enough for you to grow embarrassed. But then he whispers to himself 'so perfect' and you don't feel unsure anymore. The way Jungkook looks at you makes you feel like the most beautiful woman alive. To be fair, you are for him.

Jungkook cups your tits still covered by your bra and leans down to hide his face in the valley of your boobs. God, he loves them so much. You moan when he starts to kiss the available skin. But it's not enough, for any of you. Your hand sneaks behind your back to undo your bra and finally free your breasts. Jungkook doesn't waste time and grabs one boob before squeezing it in his large and warm palm. His mouth works on your other nipple, licking, sucking and even deliciously biting it.

He invites you to lean on his bed and you're happy to do it. Jungkook grabs the hem of your pants and slides them down with your panties. Your pussy is already glistening with arousal and it's driving him crazy. He can't even control himself when he step closer to eat you out. His tongue is fast and precise on your clit and you can't help the moans from escaping your lips. Your head is thrown back and your fists are clenched around the sheets. Your cunt is soaked by your horniness and Jungkook's saliva, creating a real mess between your legs.

"More" You groan

Jungkook smirks while he enters your tight pussy with two fingers. The stretch is so fucking good that you whimper. His pace doesn't show any mercy but you fucking love it. Maybe it's Jungkook's skills or maybe it's your strong feelings for him but your orgasm is close. Your legs start shaking and you rest them on your best friend's shoulders.

"Your pussy is so good" He says against your wet clit "You've dreamt about that, uh? You little minx"

Your head is spinning because of your horniness. You feel like drowning into pleasure and Jungkook's expert fingers hitting your g-sport repeatedly are pushing you over the edge. Your back arches and your toes curl while you're trying to control your orgasm. It's too good, you don't want Jungkook to stop just now. But then, he talks again:

"I've read how you wanted me to eat your pretty pussy. You're a little slut for me, isn't that right?"

His dirty mouth — both words and acts — makes you cum on his face and fingers. Jungkook's digits are squeezed tightly by your walls and he pushes your limits by pushing on your sweet spot harder. It cuts your breathe and you feel your orgasm lasting and lasting until you can't take the overstimulation anymore. Your legs try to close but they are stopped by Jungkook's head and your hands tug on his hair.

"I'll fuck you good"

Jungkook's promise lights up your body once again. You settle down from your high just in time to watch his strip show. His pecs and abs are so perfect. You wish you could lick them but your body is still in the fog of your orgasm so you just can lift your hand to caress him like you've dreamt of so many time. His skin is warm and soft but his muscles are hard right under. Jungkook closes his eyes to enjoy your touch. He's imagined it many times before you and your delicate fingers on him are delightful. His hard cock twitches in his pants when your hand reaches the hem of his sweatpants. The bulge is clearly visible and your mouth waters.

You push the pieces of fabric down to free is big cock. Oh god, it's bigger than you thought. Some pre-cum is leaking from his tip and you use it to jerk him off. Jungkook growls out of delight and your hand works fast on his length. The sight of your small hand around his cock is fucking hot but Jungkook wants to fuck you. You two will have a lot of time in the future to experience other things.

"I want to fuck you" Jungkook says but it's also a consent question

As much as he wants to, he won't if you tell him no.

"I want it too, Kook"

Your best friend walks to his nightstand after getting off of his pants and underwear. He grabs a condom that he quickly puts on and joins you on the bed. You're gorgeous, all naked, in his bed. Lust is written on your face and he still can't believe you're looking at him. He wants to worship you and he will, but right now, he will fuck you like there is no tomorrow.

You open your legs wider for Jungkook to take place between them. He grabs his hard cock and slides the tip up and down on your folds. Your back arches.

"Please, Kook, I want you" Your whipped voice is driving him crazy

He enters slowly, not wishing to hurt you. The way his dick is stretching you out is insane. Jungkook is big but it's fucking good. He fills you so well. When he sees you relaxing, he starts to move back and forth. Your soaked pussy helps him to enter you without any difficulty. His hands cup your face to kiss you. Your moans are swallowed by Jungkook's mouth and your hands grabs his wrists when he pounds you at a faster pace. Soon, your tits are bouncing with rhythm and your groans get louder.

The grab on your jaws tightens and Jungkook rests his forehead on yours. He fucks you passionately. You wrap your legs around his waist to deepen the poundings. The slight change of angle places his dick directly to your g-spot.

"Here!" You scream and clench around him

"Your pussy is so tight but you still want to be fucked rough" Jungkook smirks "You told everyone but me. I'm so disappointed, baby"

His dick strokes are harsher and deeper, kicking the air of your lungs every time. The sound your clapping skins create is loud and sinful. You're close again and Jungkook can feel it.

"You're sure you don't want to tell me that you love me?" He asks with heavy breathe "Because I'll fuck you better if you do"

It's enough for you. Your walls are squeezing him impossibly tight. Jungkook almost winces but the fucked expression on your face is so worth it.

"I love you, Kook!" You scream when you cum hard on his cock, your vison blurred by the tears of pleasure and love filing your eyes

The euphoric state provoked by your orgasm and your feelings make you loose your mind. You kiss him but a salty taste mixes in your kiss. When Jungkook wipes the corners of your eyes, you realize you're crying. You don't even know why.

"I love you too" Jungkook whispers

A few more hard poundings are provided and Jungkook cums in the condom. You're both panting and Jungkook is almost crushing you but you don't care. His face is hidden in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin tenderly. You hug him tightly when you finally realize that your best friend loves you too.

Your cry shakes your body and Jungkook lifts up his head and his heart squeezes when he sees you.

"Hey, don't cry, baby"

He kisses every single inch of your face: your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead and even your eyes to make your tears disappear.

Jungkook pulls out of you and takes off his condom. He quickly comes back to hug you tight. You truly appreciate how gentle he is. He has always been but now, with the love in his eyes, it's even better. Your whole body feels full of love. You know it's the right moment to share all the things you've kept to yourself for years.

"My head and my heart are full of you" You say "I'm drowning in the ocean of the love I feel for you. I love so much that it hurts, Kook"

"Your words feel so good" Jungkook replies with watery eyes, gently patting your hair "I can't describe as good as you my feelings but one thing I can say is that I love you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll never be tired of telling you or showing you how much I do"

You cry like a baby, undoubtedly the result of your post-sex tiredness and the tsunami of emotions Jungkook's confession provokes. It's the first time tears provoked by your best friend are welcomed.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"So, what's next?" Jungkook asks the next day during breakfast

Just as the last time you've spent the night at his place, he woke up with a morning wood. Except that, this time, you made love. It was different from yesterday but as good. Maybe even better because you weren't in the over-everything that your love confessions provoked. You took your time, you kissed and kissed again while caressing and feeling each other.

"Maybe I'll need some inspiration for the next date scenes" You tease him

Jungkook giggles while scrunching his cute nose. He knows you so well and yet, this part of you, your writer part, was completely unknown until a few days ago. He also knows that your book is just an excuse to take you on a date. Honestly, he doesn't have to make any excuse to ask you on a date. He wants to do it. He has been wanting for years and now, you're his girlfriend.

"You're sure you don't need inspiration for your sex scenes?" He asks playfully

You smile and scoot closer to wrap your arms around his neck.

"I could use some help" You whisper before kissing him 

[sebpaint]

✎ File contents - Sebastian Solace x Painter (1.4k)

⎙ Examination Results - how is he supposed to go on like this? how is he supposed to live day after day when he can't even bring himself to do such a simple task?

⌕ Research Gathered - angst, sebastian has an eating disorder, painter tries to help him through it, I got demotivated and cut off the ending sorry, probably super bad I usually write x readers. tribute to a good friend whos crazy over these gays i guess. ( art by @feligayzed who this is also a tribute to )

sebastian solace struggled with food.

he struggled with eating, with chewing, the scent of it through his nose. his oh so sensitive nose. he struggled with bringing himself to prepare it - shaking hands over an open flame with claws that yearned to rip everything apart and eat it raw. the human nerves that begged him not to.

it wasn't that he wasn't hungry, it wasn't that he didnt feel any genre of hunger. the ache in his stomach was too much to bare most days, biting his tongue and tearing at the walls of his stomach, telling himself to suck it up. because he couldn't bare the sight, bare the thought.

had he taught himself water would be enough? he'd wished that to be the case. ever the agony of fluids that couldn't quite fill the void, that couldn't quite reach the peak of where he wanted - needed , of where the pain would finally, just for a moment, cease to exist.

that's how sebastian awoke. that's how he arose most days, most nights, most endless cycles of nothing but an inky blur and misted lense. he had to wipe the tears that threatened to fall. crying over pain was a humane thing, he hadn't recalled calling himself that in a long time.

he didn't say a word, glancing to the blank screen that laid in the center of his coil. the hand crafted body of wires and metals from broken pipes and vent systems, from turrets he'd found torn and broken from age. the body he'd created - the cure to a loneliness he'd remembered so fond. it was somebody to talk to in this hellscape, after all. and he'd grown to call it love, if brave enough.

but, sometimes that word even seemed too strong. to trusting. would sebastian solace ever be allowed to learn to feel love? had he ever even tried?

he tried to lift painter, moving him gently to the side without bothering him in the nest they'd both created through the days of residing together. with a gentle sigh, he covered the other with a blanket - sebastian knew the computer wouldn't feel cold - he didn't have that ability. but the domesticity of the act made him feel more at home.

it didn't take a moment for him to move to the far side of the shop, tugging his esca to switch it on as dim as he could manage. he knew painter would be used to the lights of this place, having originally been locked in a constantly lit room. but again, would a wife wake their husband with the reading lamp? she'd try not to. surely.

curling around himself, sebastian found himself clutching his stomach once more. subconsciously his claws dug into his own flesh - his scales. the sting hadn't registered in his mind until he pulled back to see the crimson fluid that dripped to the ground.

eyes a blur, hands unfeeling. he didn't feel like he was in the room - like he was on a far away plain. maybe it was at home, maybe it was with his mother. maybe it was back where the sun shone down onto his skin, ans he could laugh and pick at the grass whilst joking with friends.

he closed his eyes tightly. maybe if he imagined hard enough, he could force his body back into that time. what he was now wasn't sebastian solace. it never would be.

moments of silence ticked by, had there been a clock anywhere maybe he would've been more aware. but there was no method to tell how many hours had passed. he felt so alone, so lost. this place wasn't for him.

another light filled the room, brighter then his. even through thick eyelids, he could see it.

"..Sebastian?"

the voice called. slightly grainy, of course it would be. nothing was human down here. he looked up, even through misted vision he could make out the vague concerned screen of his lover.

sebastian shook his head, moving a hand up to wipe the tears that had filled his eyes. he still felt far, like everything was distant. but, running a hand through his hair, he replied anyway.

"Yeah. Yeah- fuck. 'm sorry. did I wake you? I tried to have it on a low light-"

"You're bleeding?"

he was cut off. the small clinking of footsteps as the other stepped over to him. he felt the gentle hand rest on the midsection of his tail. it was cold. but something about how warmhearted the action was felt like a placebo effect. maybe this was how he slept so well.

"..Yeah. I-.. don't know how that happened." Sebastian laughed bitterly, but it was met with only silence. Only the distant sound of movement around the facility outside. Painter wasn't amused.

"It's claw marks, you know how that happened." He began, walking over and raising his hands up. to which sebastian lifted him, placing him into his lap, where his tail folded to make a makeshift seat. "You're hungry, aren't you?"

he didn't speak. neither of them spoke, it wasn't a moment that needed any words to display. only a quiet nod, his ear fins had flattened against his head. the tears that ran down his cheeks had shone in the light of the others monitor.

Painter's shoulders sagged, if he could let out a sigh, sebastian was sure he would've. such a war between lovers. was the relationship healthy if the biggest arguments they'd had were over self care?

"You can't go on like this." Painter spoke softly, a hand coming to cup the others cheek, wiping the tears away from under his eyes. "It's hurting you. And seeing you hurt is hurting me."

"I know. fuck- I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologise for."

"..I know."

Another moment of silence. Was it that sebastian adored the others voice so much? It seemed lonelier the more it went on. He found himself leaning into the hand that stilled against his cheek.

they both knew they had food. they had supplies, mountains of fish they'd caught, so many recipes painter had saved and recreated enough to hold for stock. why was it so difficult? why was it difficult to know? to bite down, to chew, to smell, to swallow.

"..Do you think you can try?" painter whispered, it was met with an almost silent whine. under the breath, surely unintentional. but he'd picked up on it anyway. Responding with a soft reassuring hushing sound. He needed him to try.

"It's killing you." He continued, "It's killing you to keep going like this. you can't survive off starving yourself. you know that, sebs.. you're the smartest guy i know, of course you know that.."

a shudder, a sigh. he did know that. sebastian did know that. and the agony that followed his attempts to forget always seemed to remind him.

"..I hate it." He didn't mean for his voice to come across as a hiss, but the detest overruled his will to be kind. "I hate eating. useless bodily function. I never needed to eat this much back when i was human-"

sebastian cut himself off, letting out an almost sob like hiccup. painter's eyes seemed to widen, as much as a drawing could express. leaning into gently hug him, monitor against his shoulder and arms wrapped around his neck. the fish responded the same, hands around his waist.

"..I know, my pearl. I know.."

nobody spoke a while. fuck, he hated the silence. he hated everything about it. if he'd grit himself and force himself to speak to avoid it, so be it.

"..I'll try. please- just.." he couldn't choke the words out, but he hoped the other would understand him anyway. of course he did, painter always knew what he was trying to say to him.

like two souls in seperate bodies, like a heart split among two that only beat in a rhythm the other would know how to decode. had they been meant for each other? had they been made for each other?

"..that's okay." Painter smiled softly, nudging his monitor against sebastians snout, almost in a mock kiss. It had him blush lightly, almost forgetting about the unbearable agony for just a moment.

"..As long as you're trying for me, then it's okay. I love you, and I won't be upset with you if we don't manage today, I promise. but .. it'd be nice, okay?"

sebastian nods, a fond smile to his face. his tail had instinctively curled around the other in the duration of the other speaking, and his shoulders had visibly relaxed.

"..Yeah. yeah- okay.. I'll try. love you too.."

[oniku-niku]

Inked } Suna Rintarou

Tattooed!Suna Rintarou x f!Reader Summary} Sometimes Suna gets inspirations for tattoo designs, and you just happen to be the most supportive girlfriend. Word count} 2.5k Warnings} NSFW!! This is straight up SMUT bro. PLEASE MOVE PAST IF YOU'RE UNDERAGED!! Swearing, thigh riding(brief), praise, teasing, so much teasing, SoftDom!Suna, cockwarming, clit spanking (like 3 times), pet names (doll, princess, baby), read at your own volition(Tell me if I miss anything)

Sometimes going out in public with your boyfriend, Suna, is tough. In every sense of the word because people tend to double take when they look at you, and then him, or vice versa. Both of his arms are covered in ink, the intricate details of the designs weave together to create art that continues under his shirt. 

People take time to look at his arms and trail down to where his hands are holding onto yours. It’s like he’s holding a blank canvas. Not a single speck of ink can be seen on you and it throws them off completely. Those looks don’t faze you anymore after three years of dating.

It’s your decision to not get any tattoos. Not because there’s any reason preventing you, but it just isn’t a thought that crosses your mind. Suna more than respects your decisions because he loves you too much to push you to do something so permanent, and he thinks it’s kind of funny when people gawk. There are the occasional assholes who boldly ask intrusive questions but one sharp glare shuts them up. You’re his pretty little girlfriend whether or not you have any tattoos. Besides, he’d rather the marks he left on you are hidden in places only he knows.

“Is this one gonna tickle, Rin?” You ask him as he places his hoodie neatly on the couch cushion. A small chuckle leaves him when he looks up at you. You’re seated over his lap, thighs on both sides of his, settling yourself comfortably as his hands snake from your waist down to cup your ass. If you weren’t close before, you are now with the way he squeezes and pulls you closer.

“Oh, it definitely will, princess. Try not to squirm, ‘kay?” He whispers close to your lips, giving it a fleeting peck before his hands move up to pull at the hem of your tank top, taking it off and settling it on the hoodie. Your tits are inches from his face and he swears he can live like this forever. 

“No bra?” He places a peck on his favorite beauty mark on the valley of your chest, his fingers ghosting the sides of your mounds, eliciting a soft sigh from you. You shake your head with a cheeky smile.

“We don’t have anywhere to be today so I didn’t bother.” A pierced eyebrow quirks up at your answer, his lips pulling into a smirk. 

“Does that mean this is the last thing I’m pulling off later?” He slips a thumb under the hem of your pajama shorts, not reaching in far enough to where you want him. Before you can voice your complaints, that hand grips your thigh and he grinds his hip up as a warning. The movement had your core dragging against his member, only two layers away, and you immediately fell quiet, opting to twirl a piece of his hair behind his head instead.

As much as Suna would love to give you that kind of attention, he knew you both can wait.

“Sit still.” You watch him pick up a black water soluble marker and uncap it with his teeth, as his other hand was filled with your ass. 

This was one of your guys’ lazy days activities. Just because you don’t have any official ink on you doesn’t mean you’re opposed to him practicing on you. It started when he was absentmindedly doodling on some napkins at his parlor. 

It was a slow day and the next appointment wouldn’t be until later. As he picked up the phone to answer a customer, his other hand continued to idle, not realizing that your bare thigh was what his pen was idling on. You could’ve told him but he was so focused that you didn’t want to break the process as he talked to the caller. By the time it ended, he was proudly looking at the piece before he looked at you to ask for an opinion but then immediately started to apologize once he realized. Needless to say, you told him you didn’t mind, in fact you welcomed it whenever he gets inspiration. Since then, his sketchbooks were seldom used. 

The tip of the marker touches the top of your sternum and his work begins. The first time he practiced with you topless, you were a blushing mess. Your hands constantly wanted to cover your breasts but he reassured you by giving occasional kisses, some teasing when you shift. Your comfort is his number one priority and he wouldn’t do anything you weren’t okay with. Which is how you’re sitting here with him dragging the marker lower and lower until it reaches above your belly button. 

Seeing Suna so focused always gets you flustered because he carefully places his hands where they need to be to stabilize your skin. He leans closer whenever he puts in small details and you get a whiff of his cologne.

“Arms up.” He instructs and you waste no time lifting and holding them behind your head. He slightly tilts his torso to view your left side, bringing the marker to continue his work. You tense when he presses a little harder, and that small movement tells him that it tickles. He chuckles before giving you a squeeze to say “My bad”. The angle allows you to admire the works that are on his arm. You’ve seen them so many times that it’s practically a clear image in your head but you never get tired of it. The way his muscles flex when it moves, it’s almost mesmerizing.

When he’s finished with your left, he moves over to your right, making sure to pepper kisses across your chest on his way. When he sees you tapping your foot on the edge of the couch, he knows you’re getting antsy holding your arms up for so long. He gives your thigh two pats when he’s finished and you lower your arms to drape over his shoulders once again, fingers threading through his hair. 

“Thatagirl..” he breathes out before capping the marker and pulling you down by the back of your neck to slot his lips against yours. You take this chance to grind your hip against his once again as he holds your head still. Your breath is heated, mind getting foggy just from him kissing you. Your hands tug at his roots and he let out a groan. Thinking you had the upper hand, your tongue tries slipping past his lips.

The hand that wasn’t holding your head moves to smack against your ass before firmly gripping it to ease the burn. The simple movement makes you moan and he shoves his tongue in your mouth to remind you who’s really in charge. Keeping his tongue playing with yours, he sits straighter up on the couch, basically making you arch your back to keep from falling. Your perky nipples brush against the fabric of his black t-shirt and you grind yourself onto him again just to feel more of him. 

If Suna focuses enough, he can faintly feel you clenching through your shorts and it only gets him harder. His hands slide down to move your hips against him, making sure you feel every inch he has for you. The small mewls coming from you only encourage him further and his hands are roaming all over you like he can’t get enough. 

“Off.” He wants your shorts gone, and though he hides it well, he’s just as impatient as you. Inked hands tug at his shirt to pull it over his head as you quickly slide from his lap to kick off your shorts. His smirk returns when he spots the damp patch where your bare core was before you’re back over his thighs. 

“Impatient, hmm?” His hands busy themselves cupping your ass cheeks again, fingers running over your folds just to tease you before going to hold your waist. His lips are back on you, trailing from your cheeks down to your neck where he takes his time finding that spot that has you whining for him. 

“Rin…please..” You moan when he thrusts up against your core and you can feel your arousal soaking into his pants.

“So cute…” He just can’t help but tease, you make the sweetest little sounds and it’s all for him. His hand goes to unzip and pull his pants down just enough for his member to spring free. It leans towards his stomach  even while hard, precum wetting the tip making you gush further on his thigh. Just when you’re able to hold the base does he grip your chin and pull you closer.

“Turn around, baby.” It’s almost too easy to tell you what to do when you’re drunk off of him. You’re spinning to turn your back to his chest, hands obediently spreading yourself for him. He can’t help but bring his thumb to stroke your folds, bringing the arousal from your clenching hole to your clit, eliciting another moan from you as you move closer to where you want. 

He takes hold of his member and slaps the tip against your clit, watching the way you drip onto him before dragging himself to where he needs to be. Your knees buckle when his head slips in, moaning out, “Ahh..Rintarou..” When he’s an inch or two inside, he takes hold of your waist to ease you back down, nicely fitting himself all the way in. 

It nearly knocks the wind out of you every time no matter how many times you do it. You can feel him pulsing deep inside as he stills. Your hands go to hold his thighs to have some grip before you’re moving to bounce.

But Suna being Suna, he holds your hips in place, leaning towards your ear.

“I just had another idea.” You hear him uncapping the marker again and your heart sinks, pussy clenching onto him at the thought of waiting.

“Can you keep me warm, doll?” Yeah, he loves it when you’re needy for him, but it’s also extremely satisfying to tease you in this state too. You groan out a “Fine.” waiting for him to resume drawing.

He actually has no motive to draw anymore. Just seeing the pout on your face makes him want to pound into you further but he has to hold out, just to test how long he can wait.

You lean forward a little, and that action has him sinking a little deeper, making this almost impossible but you’re his good girl. He almost lets out a groan but bites it back. The marker touches your back again and you clench with every move, forgetting for a moment that he can feel it every single time. His restraint is a thread being pulled.

“...Rin…” Just when your patience is slipping, you feel the way the marker moves against your back. The same strokes, over and over again and you sit up a little.

“Fuck, Rin are you just doodling hearts?” Your question makes him abandon the marker, tossing it onto the coffee table before he’s taking hold of your throat, thrusting up to finally feel your walls. The thread finally snaps.

“Sorry, princess. Here, let me make it up to you,” he growls, taking hold of your thighs and pulling it to rest over his. He leans into the back rest, taking you to lay on his chest as he’s bringing his hips up. 

His thighs prevent your legs from closing as he’s pistoling his hips faster into you. Your moans ring louder when you feel his fingers on your neglected clit. He traces circles over your bundle as you drip down his shaft.

“Such a good girl, huh?” He groans. “Bein’ so well behaved when I was drawin’ on you.” He plants kisses onto your neck, his hips not faltering when your hands grip onto his.

“Oh-fuck, keep doin’ that, baby.” He rasps when you clench at his praise, driving into you further.

“Shit, hah-can ya hear yourself?” He knows his question won’t be answered when your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and whines are coming from your throat. But, he shoves two fingers into your mouth, effectively shutting you up so the room can hear the wet noises the two are making.

He should’ve known you’d wail past his fingers, sucking on them as if they were his dick. God, you’re so perfect. His other hand rubs faster against your clit when you’re clenching gets harder and harder.

“Ya close, baby?” His question is answered by a moan and our hips moving on their own to chase your high. Your grip on his hands gets tighter and he knows it’s any second now.

“Make a mess f’me, princess.” He growls into your ear and lets your hips do the work. You’re bringing yourself nearer to the edge and with Suna sending three harsh claps to your clit, you let go.

He holds you as you’re shaking from your high. Giving you a few seconds to come down, but as stated before, he’s impatient.

“R-Rin, wait-ahh-I’m not-” You’re whining as he’s thrusting up again, thighs not letting you close your legs as he’s drilling deeper. A few more pushes and he stills himself, hands gripping onto you as he’s filling you. The warmth spreads inside you as he gives a final thrust, holding onto you to calm down.

“Fuck.” You turn back to kiss him and he’s gently returning it. The two of you sit there for a while, needing to breathe and you’re looking down to admire the drawings he did earlier.

“I like these ones..” You point to the valley of your chest to show him and he looks over your shoulder.

“That one reminded me of you actually.” He mumbles against your skin, fingers tracing the details he did.

“Maybe one of these days I’ll ask you to do it permanently.” 

“Anything for my girl.” His lips press kisses onto your clavicle, giving it a gentle suck. Your light chirp response was enough to get him going again.

“Rin.” You slowly feel him hardening inside you again, turning to look at him just to see him smirking back.

“Gotta clean my girl up right? Start the shower, I’ll be right in.” He slaps your butt once more and you’re eager to race to the bathroom, making sure none of his seed drips down your legs on the way. He’s taking his time discarding his pants to follow you.

Suna Rintarou is covered in tattoos of his and your own choosing, and you’re his pretty little girlfriend who has yet to get one. He’s too whipped and in love with you to care whether or not you have any. Sure, he’d sometimes imagine what kind of ink would suit you, but when he’s greeted with the sight of you all bare, he finds you sexy nonetheless and in those moments, he just feels like he’s the luckiest man in the world.

A/N: Congratulations on making it through this messy one shot. I literally have not written s-m-u-t in so long this felt illegal. But something happened and I was outside of my body watching my write this because tattooed Sunarin was on my brain. Anyway I'm sort of back? I hope to write more in the future.

[Blog Master List]

[chaoticfandomgirly]

The Stupidity of hating on fanon, featuring Jegulus.

Alright folks,

Welcome to another one of my rants because I found out that there are jegulus haters on tumblr. I have not encountered one but I saw it on my mutuals' page and I had some words (a lot of words) to say.

So let's get started...

One of the main complaints is saying that 'James would never fall for Regulus.' Umm...child, do you know what fanfic is? What fanon is? If not let me spell it out for you- it's made up. Something that is not canon and created by fans by employing their imaginations. We are not saying that James would fall for Regulus in canon at all, so please don't come barging in with your opinions. So yes, we don't really care about canon anyways.

Secondly, the argument of 'Regulus being a terrible person and pureblood supremacist' is really weak. Alright, he was a pureblood supremacist and was involved in terrible things. But do you know what else he was? He was just a 17 year old boy who grew up in an abusive household. A boy who had lost his big brother and had to learn survival at an age too young. He grew up before his time and was so traumatized that he always wanted to please his parents and do as they wish. Regulus was just another victim and he also was the one who ended up being the catalyst to Voldemort's defeat. As someone who studies psychology, viewing a person on the surface is the biggest sign of ignorance and it really shows. As for 'being terrible' then let's not forget that canon James wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either. He improved ofc, but he was still an asshole when he was young. Also, we really don't have enough background on canon Regulus to place him in one box. I love that some people want to believe him as good and fill in the blanks by writing something redeeming.

Then comes the 'it's a misogynistic ship'. Now, I won't argue it fully because I do think there are some people out there who don't like Jily bc they hate Lily. But, from what I've seen majority shippers ship both of them interchangeably or in a polyarmorous sense too. In fact, most jegulus shippers are also Marylily and pandalily shippers too. I really can't see anything misogynistic in it. I've actually read some great fics where Lily is a strong independent woman who is fierce and an overall queen.

And, if the 'canon' of it bothers you too much, then you should check out early Jegulus fics like Choices where nothing is sugar-coated. James still ends up with Lily. But in the end, it leaves you thinking and rooting for them anyways. The more new Jegulus fics are on a fluffier side but that fluff came in after bearing the pain of the full of angst fics like Choices.

Another thing should be noted is that these characters are also a big part of queer community. I've seen so many fans exploring themselves through these characters. Like Regulus as Trans is becoming a popular headcanon and it shows that through creative expression people are finding a safe place to explore. And if you're a bigot then...that is frankly a you problem. One I, or jegulus fans, don't want any part of.

In the end, my motive is not to convince you of shipping these two. It clearly started as a crackship, one even I stumbled upon accidentally. But the fandom has made it into something really beautiful and I think instead of spreading hate we should accept it. There are more problematic pairings to be concerned about, trust me. This one is the least of them all.

Thank you for listening to my rant. And if you have anything negative to say, kindly don't because it would just be proof of your own stupidness. There is no point you can argue about with anything substantial. Because in the end it's fanon. Let fans do what they want and if you don't like it then ignore. No one is forcing it on you.

@corwnvus I hope this covers it all. Also, I love your art. Did I mention that, already?

[preciouslandmermaid]

I’m thinking about Amy Pond this morning and how Moffat didn’t give her any identity outside of The Doctor (and Rory).

Like series 5, we go through this whole thing where Amy “gets her parents back” and we literally NEVER see them again. And then Amy’s childhood friend, who we had never heard of, is revealed to be tied to the Doctor as well.

She’s shown to be a successful model during series 6, but that fact doesn’t go anywhere. We don’t see her friends. We don’t even know if she HAS friends.

River Song also has a similar problem—her story is intrinsically tied to the Doctor. And although Amy and River are technically mother and daughter, we don’t really get to see that, like does River come around and visit her parents when not traveling with the Doctor? What do they talk about ??

And on the note about children, iirc, Amy can’t (?) have any more children due to what her kidnappers did to her. But, on the same hand, it was never said that Amy wanted children or was upset that she missed out on the opportunity to raise Melody (it’s literally never mentioned again).

All the of NuWho companions, save for Martha, wanted to travel with the Doctor forever and ultimately their stories end in tragedy. I get that.

But then other companions, like Rose, Martha, and Donna - they all had people OUTSIDE the Doctor, which grounded them, tied to their humanity, to their earthly humanness.

I love Amy, but she is subjected to some poor writing choices. I know the viewers can fill in the blanks - we can assume she and Rory have lives outside traveling with the Doctor. But without seeing these people, it’s hard to connect when let’s say Earth is threatened. When the cyber men were trying to take over, Rose was concerned about her mum ! And we were too! Because we saw her mum and saw how much Rose loved her.

I know Amy’s arc ultimately ends with her “choosing Rory” (I guess because idk this wasn’t made clear when she married the guy idk).

But, consider this, consider how much more impactful her story would’ve been if she had like - I dunno - a sweet grandma who would tell her bedtime stories. The grandma gets some quips in about The Doctors fashion choices.

Rather than the Doctor realizing the Ponds are getting older (Amy’s glasses), it’s Amy realizing that her grandma is getting older, and the allure of traveling the stars is fading. She realizes that she wants to have her own child to tell stories to. And she wants her grandma to be alive to share in those stories. Hell, maybe she still finds a love for writing and becomes an author.

Amy makes the choice (much like Martha did) to leave the TARDIS. Rory comes too (I do think Moffat disliked Rory but that’s another topic). The Doctor is welcome to visit.

And when he does, he sees a slightly older Amy Pond, carrying a child that looks just like her, towards her grandmother in a wheelchair in the garden.

They let each other go. Unlike Rose and Ten who simply couldn’t let go because of the deep love they had for another.

The Doctor and Amy (or maybe it’s just Amy) have “grown up”. Amy has made a choice FOR HERSELF. After everything she’s seen, endured, all the trauma and suffering and grief - she creates her own happy ending.

It’s 8:00am right now - so who knows if this makes sense.

[nouvxllev]

Hi loved your recent Jenna fic

I have a request where reader confesses their feelings to Jenna after a long friendship (you can figure out how long and that friendship if you want) and Jenna doesn’t really react and unfortunately something or someone interrupts them that forces them to push that topic aside or something then Jenna like shuts down because she goes over reader’s confession over and over because how did she not see it that what she felt towards reader was exactly the same thing which leads her to think over having a relationship with reader and how it’ll work or how it won’t work I’m rambling at this point so you can just take over from here if you want

Just something along those lines idk if that made sense you can ignore this if it doesn’t ha😅

so this is love?

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4.7k (damn i expected it was gonna be more than 5k)

Warnings: a long fucking love confession!!! you'd think to yourself how did they even say that in one breath, jenna being the oblivious little shit, r and j.o is horrendously inlove w eachother its fuckng insane, kind of bittersweet kind of just sweet, several 7 husbands of evelyn hugo references, im yapping too much about love here

a/n: first of all, thank you so so much!! and hope you'll like this one anon, thank you for the idea!

masterlist.

"Y/n, I'm thinking about changing this scene. Just a slight bit, nothing too over the top. What'd you think?"

"Yeah? Oh, yeah. Definitely."

"But it's such a late change—fuck, I should've told Tim a little earlier. You think he's gonna get frustrated? Then again, he's a sweet guy, I don't think he will."

"Jenna. Jenna, I like you. So fucking much. It's spontaneous, a little on the weird side that I'm telling you this now in your Wednesday Addams get up with a script on your hands asking me if your idea is good or not, even if it is—everything you do is amazing—but I'm in love with you for little over a year now and it's tearing me apart so please just reject me so I can move on."

"Yeah, yeah I like the idea too but—what?"

"I like you. Jenna."

. . .

Here's the thing:

You give a poet paper, they will embellish it with their words. People will mourn over their unfortunately late mortal soul enclosed with a tomb that carries their quill and ink.

You give a painter a blank canvas with nothing but their own mind, they will create a sensation, a masterpiece, a tour de force. People will gaze upon it in awe, so valuable they will waste a fortune.

You give a musician a silent room, an auditorium with nothing but a few instruments and tarnished worksheets. They will make out of it, they will fill the room with melodies that no one would hear, yet the very vibrations would resonate with the walls.

But if someone gives out their heart to you, they will pour it all over you. They will reprogram their own organ so that it beats solely for you. They will rip it out of their chest in bleeding agony and give it to you with no price more than their own faith.

You are given no options other than cherish it, treasure it, be thankful someone admires you as such they will do anything and everything for a piece of your attention, maybe even reciprocation.

You are also given the option to trample on it, break it, shatter it into minuscule pieces that have no intention in restoring to it's formal use. Let it be nothing but a bullet to their own decision, to their own emotion, to their own choice to love you.

Jenna was given those options. None other from her friend since the day she became an actress at a young age, a childhood friend even. What now?

. . .

"...What?"

The brunette responded, murmured even, like she was out of breath. The corner of her lips forced themselves to tug into an awkward smile.

What else are you going to respond with if you're stuck in a situation where your friend of a decade, nearly how long Jenna has been in this fucking industry, tells you that they're in love with you?

You shook your head, noticing how Jenna's gaze flicker to your fidgeting hands. "I like you, Jenna. Like, like you. I love you—no, that's crossing the line. But I just... like you, Jenna. Don't you get it?"

Jenna blinked. So much for being in character. She scoffed, albeit playful, running her fingers through Wednesday's fringe, "Yeah. I like you too. We are friends. Best of friends."

You shook your head once more, slowly taking a step forward towards Jenna like you were cautious. "No, Jenna, I—" you sighed, "I like you. Romantically. Like I'm willing to be in a relationship with you like way."

Oh.

Jenna swallowed the ever growing lump in her throat, feeling her eyebrows crease yet a smile was still present on her face. Her lips parted, threatening to say anything that just comes to her mind at this point. "You… you're serious?" Her voice wavered.

"Very. Dead serious." You nodded, gulping in your own words like you were trying to swallow them whole.

"I don't want our friendship to die out because of this, I wished I should've stopped my mouth from rambling all this to you so spontaneously but I—I should've done it more romantically than this setting. I've been in love with you my whole life, I've loved you for as long as I can remember even if I lose my memories. I'm not a romantic soul, I'm more far from it, and I'll never find the words even if I'm given a lifetime to describe how much I love you. I'm… I'm not saying all of this so you could reciprocate what I feel, it's just that I'll be lying to myself everytime I breath if I don't tell you this. You're my colleague, my co-star, my friend, my childhood, my everything ever since we met on that set of that god-awful ad that I cannot for the life of me watch again. I noticed that I talk to you almost everyday, how I adapted to your weird fucking horror movies that I absolutely somehow love, how I—I bought a stupid vinyl because you liked the artist, how I started listening to your music taste, how I started writing poems, how you always manage to sneak up in my conversations with others. You don't have to even be there, and yet, you linger in my words. I would surrender everything I worked for just for you, I would do anything, sacrifice my time and all. You've been all of those and more, and it's shocking that I'm only saying this now, after five years of loving you, half of the time we've known each other."

Jenna was silent, her lips parting as if to speak, but her mind held her back. But her heart did everything to speak, yet it never came.

She was lost, unsure, afraid. She didn't understand, and she fears that you know she doesn't. She never will unless time so happens to be on her side. Breathing was the only option, and breathing out was her only relief that she was alive.

She looked at you, and you looked at her back. No words exchanged. Your hands are now fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, pulling the loose strings apart as you catch your breath.

Jenna could grab your hand, apologize, and reject you. She could throw everything you both had built and walk away, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart.

Maybe that both of you will go to separate paths after filming was over. Maybe you'd tear away the contract that stated that in all your shows, Jenna should be there.

But the thought pained her.

It's painful, it's torture, it's agony, it's suffering to live in that universe where you weren't the one Jenna calls when it's a rainy day. The universe where Jenna stays awake, mellowing in her own woe, not knowing who to turn to, who to call at the dead of night. The universe where every poem on her phone, on her paper, on her notes, on every surface she had the ability to write on, wasn't meant for you.

Do you refer to that as love?

"Y/n, I... I just need some—"

"Y/n! There you are."

Shit.

Tim cut Jenna off, approaching the both of them, but more primarily you.

"Y/n, makeup team, and Jenna, your scene."

It all took Tim nothing but to speak seven words for the both of them to pry their eyes off eachother and remind themselves it was a professional setting. With professional actors and professional feelings. Nothing personal, is what Tim would say.

Jenna was an actor. You were an actor, her co-star.

That just so happens to be in love with her.

You nodded as you looked right at Tim, your gaze leaving Jenna for the first time.

Jenna was desperate to hold your hand, take a firm grip of your wrist and to tell you to 'stay' or 'don't go' like what they do at cheesy romance movies where the guy gets the girl.

But it wasn't. Jenna would've loved you if it were a movie.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The question still arises on set. Dressed up as Wednesday, cameras rolling, her mind wandering nowhere near the scene but your trailer.

What do you do when a friend confesses their love to you?

A friend who's been a familiar presence in Jenna's life, a friend who's been there since Jenna learned her heart yearned for others, how it beats for other people.

Someone through every moment of self-doubt, they saved her when she couldn't save herself. Through struggles that Jenna considered could be something to gash her mending heart, but they would offer a piece of theres in exchange for happiness in her.

A friend she loves.

It's a simple. You fold your heart in half, maybe even in fourths, then tuck it away in the deepest depths of your pocket. You might stamp it, decorate it, perhaps even address it to none other than your soulmate.

What do you do if you don’t know your soulmate?

You look for them. Jenna never looked for love outside of her family or friends; her heart was content with the familiar comfort of their love. Those were the types of love she knew. She had never felt the need to pursue romance.

Probably because everyone sees some others as they want them to be in their own head. They fall in love with the idea of them, the person they want them to be. An idealized version only they see fit to their desires, a false projection.

Most people would call her beautiful or pretty. She would pass the street and people would look at her, stare at her, look at her up and down, maybe even subtly lick their lips. They look up at her like she’s a force they cannot compete with, like she wasn’t human. Not amongst them. They will compliment her base on her appearance, and in rare cases, on how talented she is.

But someone would call her glorious, like Greece, and grandeur like Rome. Someone would call her lovely, not in a way everyone calls her, but someone would look up at her with eyes that feel like they’re borrowing, harnessing even, the energy of a thousand suns to even look at her. Like she was a garden. But yet, they would also look at her like she was an old friend. An old soul, the soul that could melt yours but still be so comforting.

And it was you.

Most people would look at her and smile. Say hi, wave a greeting, a handshake if it was really needed.

But you look at her as if you were seeing something more, as if Jenna had never seen a person more in awe that you when you look at her. Like how the sun would be nothing without her, how you'll spend your whole life loving her and nothing more, how you look at her and she feels though as if she has never been admired in her whole life. If she was someone intolerable, someone unbearable, suffering to a degree you'd rather die, and you would. But only if it were in her arms.

Most people would describe her as someone talented, art, hot, stunning, sexy. Like she was nothing but a piece of imagination to someone, like her good traits were the only characteristics that made her Jenna Ortega.

But you would turn all of those down. You would say, no, in the face of the interviewer. You would say that she was the renaissance reincarnated as a single human, that was beauty in everything imperfect, she was the art that would put the Sistine Chapel to shame, the sculpture that would have Michelangelo resurrecting from the dead only to lie back of how undoubtedly perfect and impossible to replicate the pure astonishing beauty that was her.

You were an old friend of Jenna, the two of you were ever since Jenna played young Jane in Jane the virgin at twelve years old and you had approached her as an extra to be her somewhat, co-star-in-the-future-friend.

And now, she's only imagining what would've happened if you hadn't been the big ball of sunshine that you always were up until now.

There were times that you would make her laugh, putting up a half-assed comedy show whenever she's in a bad mood, but then you'll give her space if she doesn't budge. Times where you would hold her close in your arms whenever she's on the verge of tears, and times where you hold her close to you whenever she achieved something.

There were times she wasn't proud of herself, how self-doubt creeped into her mind and slowly started to deteriorate her soul, yet you were there. You called her brilliant, a genius, someone show-stopping people from all around the world would be shocked how amazing she was and a few other words that she kept close to her heart.

There were times where Jenna calls you, telling you how filming was all too stressful and she needs a break. Then you're with her the next day, surprisingly becoming an extra or maybe a new side character to her films.

You were always saying how you would protect her at the age of twelve, and she'd always respond with "how?" with a laugh, then you'd respond with a simple shrug saying, "I'd love you."

Jenna didn't understand it at first and yet you understood her in such a short amount of time. How you knew why she always has her headphones on, how you wrote down and knew at the top of a hat what she likes and what she hates, how your laugh sounded at her most darkest of jokes, how you would bring back snacks whenever you're on a run, how you would always say 'i love you' in times where she's breaking down.

And up until now, she never understood why you would protect her with your love.

Jenna was your friend but you treated her like she was your everything.

And up until now, she realized that she loved you back.

And up until now, she realized how could she even dare to live without giving you the same love as you did to her?

People tell you that relationships are easy, that they're lovely, that they tell you that love is the only thing that keeps the both of them going.

But they don't tell you the rest.

They don't tell the pain you want to go through all for your significant other. The nights you want them to be in your arms but you've gone through yet another foolish argument that created a hole in your heart that seem to never mend, but it will.

It made sense that Jenna never wanted to be in a relationship, it was scary. The answer to a question as such was always going to be no. How there was always someone going to be hurt or inflict hurt.

But it never made sense that Jenna would experience pain with no presence of mercy to be with you.

Everyone talks about falling out of love, but that's bullshit. If you fall out of love, then there must be a reason you should've never fell from them in the first place. It's something Jenna never understood why falling out of love was never a thing if love prospered and it was for all eternity.

But the thought of being in a relationship with you, and having to watch you fall out of love with her is terrifying.

The two of you would work because the both of you are long friends, childhood friends. Yet, it won't. Because the two of you were friends. What would happen if Jenna let you in the most deepest parts of her heart? What would happen if you did? Would you get turned off? Would she get turned off? She wouldn't. You wouldn't

If no one had stopped Jenna in the midst of her performance as Wednesday, she wouldn't notice she was messing up her lines. She wouldn't have noticed that she was crying.

But she did notice that one familiar scent you always carried around you; that one perfume mixed with the shampoo you used everyday. Jenna was around you her whole life and she never got tired of it. It could be the smell of her home, like that one familiar scent at your childhood home.

It wasn't long before she felt a pair of two hands grabbing her shoulders, tugging her gently, and it wasn't long before she felt herself walking with them.

The voices were drowned out, muffled, she can hear someone saying to "let her take a break until she's feeling better. Emma, your scene."

"Jenna?"

"Jenna, please, talk to me, why are you crying?"

"Shit—Jenna? Jenna, it's alright, I'm—Well, I shouldn't probably be here."

She knew that voice. How could she forget them?

It wasn't fair that Jenna's heart skipped a beat once she heard your pitch, like you were worried or concerned. She recognized it all too well that it brought a sense of comfort in her soul.

"Y/n?" She whispered, noticing how you brought her into your trailer and sat her down. "Shit. Fuck, I'm supposed to be on set. Y/n, why am I—"

"Jenna. Jenna, hey, look at me," you grabbed her hands, your touch a bit too warm as you held hers tightly, but it never failed to give her peace. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not the one who should be doing this since you know, the whole shit that happened an hour ago."

Jenna looked down at your hands, your thumb slowly caressing the back of her palm, a silent permission. A permission she would always grant with open arms. Or maybe hands in this case.

You nodded, fixing yourself up on the couch as you look at Jenna. "We're gonna take deep breaths, alright? I'll be here, don't worry." You squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"No, y/n, I—I need to tell you something, please—"

"Jenna." You sighed, noticing how it wasn't out of annoyance but out of concern. "Your voice is cracking, you're stuttering, you're in a higher pitch than you are normally. And more importantly, you have tears in your eyes." You would sooner or later interlock your fingers with Jenna's offering another reassuring squeeze. "I'll protect you. You're safe with me, don't worry, please, Jenna."

Oh.

. . .

You know, people think sex is intimacy, the highest form of intimacy there is. 

But they're wrong.

It’s being able to realize something heartbreaking, something that cuts you deep in your soul to the point where no amount of bandages will help. But somehow, someway, someone so special could heal it with their words.

It’s where you can be vulnerable with someone, be happy, be sad, be angry, be every emotion you’re afraid surrendering to. They will wrap their arms around you and whisper to you that they’re there for you. You’re safe with them.

It’s when you realize that heaven couldn’t be real if it isn’t with them. 

It's when you realize that everyone got it wrong in perceiving them, noticing how you're the only one who truly understands them.

It’s when you realize every living and late poet was wrong in their writings, in their words, in their books. Love wasn’t an emotion, it wasn’t a choice. It was someone. Someone special.

It’s when you realize if ever you’ve completely turned the whole world against you, the time where you’ve devastated everyone in turn for your own selfish needs. Yet you will find yourself standing in front of them. Realizing you’ve spared them from your wrath.

You expect them to hurt you. To break you, to do everything within and over their power to make you experience the same pain you’ve inflicted.

Yet they will show no betrayal.

They will simply show understanding, awe even. Love. They will catch if you if you fall from the top you’ve tore and exhausted yourself. They will sing to you if you feel every melody has nothing. They will do everything, they will accept you, not only because of you, but because of what you carry, what you’re pretending not to be.

Love was never easy, Jenna knew that. You don’t listen to Pat Benatar or The Cascades to not know what true love does to someone; It will shatter you, then mend your now fragile heart like its nothing. It will let you experience grief, then peace. It will let you feel nothing, then everything. It’s not simple, never is. It’s complicated, it’s fucked up. It’s terrifying. So fucking terrifying. 

But if Jenna was going to experience everything she’s thinking of right now; Agonizing heartache that feels like mercy isn’t even an option, and peace she had never felt before, it was going to be with you.

. . .

"Jenna? Jenna are you—"

She had never really truly felt luxury in a while until she let her trembling hands reach up to cup your cheeks, stealing one glance away from your eyes before closing her own and softly pressing her lips against yours. 

What do you say to a friend you realized you’ve fallen in love with now?

Maybe you’d kiss them, like what Jenna is doing now. Let yourself bring peace in your world that is full of unjust morals—let them be a light, be something that felt half as right as loving the taste of their lips on yours.

Maybe you'd let them into your world. Remind them of how they're the only ones in this life were worth devoting your entire life to, how being in their presence was an experience of a life time.

Maybe you'd let them care about your entire being. Let yourself be vulnerable, be free within their arms. Let them tell you that they're going no where but to where you're headed, that peace only belongs to a place where you're present.

Maybe you’d tell them how you like the way they look at their belongings like it was their favorite part of the day? Tell them how they make you feel that everything is possible, how you knew that you’ll be living as much as they would be smiling.

Or maybe, Jenna would say this,

"Y/n," she broke off the kiss, her hands returning to her lap and intertwining with yours. "I'm sorry. I couldn't give a proper reaction to your confession earlier. It was so stupid of me I—"

You laughed. Fuck, your laugh was beautiful.

"Don't worry, Jenna. You don't really feel the same way as I do, and that's fine. I just—I just hope it won't ruin our friendship, you know?"

Jenna scoffed, eyebrows creasing, "No, y/n, give me time to talk, please." She laughed, then took a deep breath.

"I love you, y/n. I never really realized that, I mistook them for something lesser. Mostly because love wasn’t the right term to describe it. Love is simple, fast, overused, something tossed around so carelessly that it couldn't be something I'd say to you; you don’t deserve such a weak word that has no meaning but tarnished from other people. It’s not complex, like how you’re represented in my soul, how you grown ivy around my heart as if I’m trapped in your unbearable love, yet why do I accept such an idea that is only a metaphor that I wish it were true? It's clear that no one knows me greater than you have. It happens more often than not that people will see right through me, only to find a barricade of walls that reflects repressed emotions that keep them from entering. But you tell a different story, different words that people don’t use to tear at my heart. You whisper something so precious that I wish to hear again but I shouldn't before I fall. You unravel my soul with a gentleness that defies everything, that makes me wonder where pure tenderness comes from if it isn't from you. I've known you for long enough to know what the sound of your voice is in, whether your anxious or joyful, how your voice is the sole reason why I sleep without your arms wrapped around my body. I want nothing but to hold you in my arms, to lie beside you in nothing but eternal slumber then rise again if you are ever disturbed. I want to fear nothing, to be afraid of nothing, to have death be a mere word unless your name is next towards it. My name is always associated with me being an actress, a talented one, someone who would no longer be a name hidden in the dust but someone who would rise to the top. A glamorous world is what they would tell me, everything I would want is granted. But why aren't you there in the vision they see? The lover that I yearn for, a home that would finally bring me peace, the home that I wouldn't escape from with bare melodies that lay emotions that I couldn't voice. I just—Fuck, I love you, y/n. Through a decade we've been together, it's only now that I realize that life without you is simply a life worth killing myself to. Death shouldn't be an option when you're around me, it should be something we'll defy, an afterlife that would fail in making us part ways from eachother. I love you. Really. I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to say or do, but I love you. I've realized that."

The silence was unbearable, only now did she realize she blurted out a confession only those who're dead can say in a sentence without stuttering.

"No, no Jenna…" You pushed her hands away from yours, the action stinging her own hands as you stepped back, putting unfamiliar distance between the two of you.

"Y/n, what?" She scoffed, her voice betraying her of a flat tone, "What do you mean, I thought—" Jenna immediately reached out for your arm, her words were faltering, her fingers now trembling as they threatened to brush against your skin.

She was expecting to get yelled at to leave, to never show her face to yours ever again. But as she looked into your eyes, she was met with tears that dared to glisten your gaze. "Are you… are you crying?"

You chuckled, "You know… You know I can't compete with that confession, Jenna. It's unfair to those who don't have a habit of staying up late and writing poems." You brought your hands up to your eyes and wiping away the tears that fell on your cheek, only to be replaced by warm ones.

Jenna cupped your face, her thumb caressing the gentle touch and warmth of your skin, feeling how you leaned into her touch almost immediately. "Oh, you're awful. You had me worrying that I said something wrong or you changed your mind."

"Oh, no, never." You laughed it away, shrugging the tears that continue to stain your face. Then, without a word, you reached up to cradle her own face in your hands, letting her place them down on your lap and close the remaining distance of the two of you that were seated far too apart from eachother.

"I never really thought that you'd say yes. Or say something too poetic." You whispered to her, daring yourself to not drown in her pool of brown eyes that threatened to kill you if you looked too closely.

"I never really thought that I would truly love someone, and look at that turned out."

"Like what?"

"Like I never wanted to love someone more than I loved everything." She tilted her head, leaning forward and closing the distance between your lips and hers. A soft but gentle press to your own, yet it was fervent.

She pulled away, only so slightly that your lips never touched eachother again before they fall into the same predicament as addiction. But close that she could feel your heartbeat, your warm breath against hers, everything that made you you.

"So, this is love?" She whispered.

"Dangerously attractive in a form of a human?" You smirked, winking even, before Jenna rolled her eyes.

She scoffed, "I was going to take you out to dinner, but you are awful at charming someone."

"Take me out to dinner and I'll never make that statement again."

"Deal. I'd splurge a shit ton of money for you not to repeat it ever again."

"You pain me. I love you."

"I love you too."

And then she kissed you, holding you tight as if reminding you're more than just a friend.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: i'm in a desperate need of a girlfriend. also in the span of my 1 week break ive written only 2 stories. its such a low number damn 😭😭😭 (+ then he kissed by by the crystals reference at the end!)

[onim5]

Invicible Pain

Portgas D. Ace x reader

Warnings: Emotional pain. Swear word.

I believe this is fluff and a little angst.

Gender is never mentioned.

------------------------------------------

"If Gold Roger had a kid, we kill him."

"It be a demon child, we would have the marines execute him, immediately."

"Ha! The Marines made sure no such brat existed."

"The last thing we need is another monster."

"Such a brat doesn't deserve to live."

Boink!

"Aw, frick. What was that for?!" Ace asks, frustrated, looking at you and the book you hit him with.

Boink!

"Hey, stop that!" Ace demands. Holding up his hands so he be ready to defend himself.

"No, not until you stop being stupid." You growl, trying to hit him again with the book.

"The hell did I do now?" Ace whines. He hadn't stolen your food. . . . . yet, and when he does, you don't get this mad. Did he perhaps forget something important?

Boink!

"Oh, come on! At least tell me." Ace hiss.

"You know what you're doing!" You yelled. . . . . Ace looked at you in shock. This was the first time you were actually mad at him, and you yelled. . . . Ace felt how he tensed up. He must have messed up badly, but with what?!

"Y/n, I am really sorry for what I did, and I promise to never do it again."

Boink!

Ace's stomach felt like a heavy bag filled with stones. Whatever he did, he deserves this. He deserves death. . . .

"Now you're doing it again!" You yell, hugging him instead.

"Stop, . . . . Just stop with the self-hatred." You plea, hugging him tight. Ace felt blank. . . . . He didn't move. He couldn't.

"Ace? . . ." You call out as your eyes tried to make contact with his. All you found, though, was an empty space. His gaze was somewhere else internally. He looked hollow, but you knew he was full. Full of emotions others had given and created to him. Emotions he himself had stabilized brick by brick.

Ace eyes finally reached yours, his arms hesitatantly started hugging you back. But he didn't say anything. It was the first time someone had said it out to him. That someone had pointed it out. . . . . He wants to deny it, but he can't.

"How did you know?" Ace whispers, his voice barely adiuoable. You could feel his nails dig into you in a desperate way. He was longing for support but never showed or told anyone he needed it.

"I, I can tell. You get that dark gaze on your expression. Ace, I can feel your invisible pain. It's in your aura." You answer, hugging him more gently, more lovingly.

"I'm see-through? Like glass?" He stutters, a feeling of pathetic and failure dawning on him.

"No, you're not. Your really fucking hard to see through. You're solid with hundreds of walls. But, there's small cracks . . . . And, and I know that there's a door. Please, Ace, let me in."

And that's what he did. In his room, on his bed, he laid a little spoon in your lap. Your fingers caressing his hair with so much care and love? Listening to his story. You never gave him a reaction, just patiently sat and patted him. And so, he accidentally told you everything. About who he was and what he have become.

"I'm a monster." He murrmur, his voice broken and bitter. You didn't say anything, but your hands went to his cheeks and rubbed them gently. Ace can't stop the overwhelming feelings inside. He couldn't stop the quiet tears of pain that covered your loving hands. He couldn't stop . . . . . Finally, he tried to break out of your touch, but both you and a huge part of him stopped it.

"Why, why are you doing this? Why aren't you judging me? I'm a crying man. It's pathetic." He scoffs, once more trying to break out of your touch and love.

"Because your words have been mostly lies. Either your own or someone else's. You're a man, but also a human. you're allowed to cry. It is simply natural." You state, trapping his body in a hug.

"What do you mean?" He asks, his large hand grabbing yours.

"People's feelings have created lies, lies that have reached your ears. Their fear for Roger, a man most actually never met. Has created lies and opinions about you. And you have slowly started agreeing and building up these lies within you. It's time for you to start taking down that huge wall. I don't care if it has to be done brick by brick. Do you know why?" Ace shakes his head, his eyes looking at you.

"Because I love you."

-------------------------------

This was inspired by @captainportgasdace. Thank you. - onim5

Masterlist

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

Okay. The thing is - we’ll never get everything from this show, we’ll never get to see everything play out. The conversations will always be fractioned and half. It’s a prime time network show that gives us 45 minutes of screen time each episode spread out between a whole cast of characters and plot lines and action sequences.

And my point with that is: Everything outside of what we see in canon is >us< filling in the blanks, interpreting and basically finishing the characters and the storylines.

If you dislike a character or storyline, a large amount of what you dislike will be of your own making. Which means that you created that negative take, only to be negative about it.

If a character isn’t giving all their background and reasons, or isn’t providing what you find to be a sufficient apology for what you believe is a ‘wrong doing’ then that’s you deciding that their reasons were bad instead of valid. You deciding to go ‘I hate this character bc they didn’t apologize’ instead of going ‘I trust that this character apologized but I hate that we didn’t get to see it’ or even ‘I hate that they wrote this character as not apologizing’.

And like. Just because I love these characters and this show or a certain storyline doesn’t mean I think we can’t be critical of it. And it doesn’t mean I expect everyone else to love anything or everything about it. And mostly with this negativity for negativity’s sake, it just makes me think ‘well people are weird’.

Because I literally don’t get watching a show you don’t like and then spending time posting about it using that show’s fandom tags, or painting a character in a bad light just so you can feel negative about it. I don’t get going for drama and negativity when you can go for joy. I get criticizing or even hating the writing, talking about writing that might be problematic, and not resonating with the way a storyline or a character is written, but I don’t get hating a Character that is, in fact, not real and can never be fully fleshed out in a show like this.

But the problem is also when these takes either:

1.) are meant for and created to deliberately reach into other people’s place of joy and create drama.

And, even more so, 2.) when they are racist, ableist, misogynistic in nature and thus are doing real harm to real people. Which, is in fact very much the case when TK is called a ‘twink’ and that term is meant as derogatory or his addiction is being used against him; when Carlos isn’t being emphasized with at all, and attempted to be understood for his reasons, feelings and actions, or isn’t allowed to have complicated, ‘negative’ emotions but is expected to be there to be TK’s ever perfect and present support rock; when Iris is being called words like crazy, or other derogatory terms and her illness or trauma isn’t acknowledged, or she’s being painted stereotypically and as an un-nuanced character bc of her mental illness.

And I don’t get it bc we literally see TK being strong for and supporting Carlos several times in canon. We see Carlos developing and working on his insecurities, educating himself on addiction to best be there for TK. We are told where those insecurities come from. We saw TK’s struggles with active addiction. We literally saw Carlos’ dad being shot in his own home wearing the tux he was supposed to wear as Carlos’ best man, just when their relationship and old wounds were on the mend, heard his mother, who watched it happen, scream down the line while on the phone with Carlos, who also heard it happen. We don’t see anybody but Carlos seeking justice, and we still see Carlos making an effort to spend quality time with TK and communicate openly with him. And we saw TK going to bed without his husband not for the first time, knowing that he’s in pain and that grief has previously let him to feel alone and to close up and end up in a dangerous and unhealthy place, where TK couldn’t reach him or help him. We know that there is past trauma and experience for TK that will make him recognize patterns and make him worry for both Carlos’ wellbeing, and for their marrriage.

And, we see them loving, caring for and forgiving each other through it all. We see a relationship with two people who are not always right, not always perfect, but who are doing the best they can and being by each other’s sides through that. We see nuanced and realistic conflicts with root in both of their trauma. [And loving one character and trusting their judgement but not trusting their love and evaluation of the other is just very difficult for me to understand.]

Everything apart from that, the thoughts, feelings and motivations we assign them, the moments, conversations and apologies we imagine or don’t imagine to have taken place, how two characters came from having a conflict to saying ‘I love you’/‘I forgive you’, or to being friends and dancing at a wedding, what lead characters to say “I’ll keep a light on”/“I feel like we’re starting to drift apart”/“we’re doing great”, what else they might have said, and what they might have felt in that situation, is stuff we make up and put into the story. And so it is up to us whether we try and understand and love these characters or whether we want to make them into bad people, and then hate them for it.

[dulcibella-dreams]

Makoto or Akihiko with a smug and assertive f!reader? 🙏 love ur work

Akihiko Sanada and P3 male protag with a smug and assertive f!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SJJSKSKSJSJSJSJSJJSKS sorry I saw this in my inbox and got like a happy attack because like :( ty. Thats literally so sweet :( I will be doing both of the boys! Because as much as I am pushing my 'fill Tumblr with Makoto fics' crusade, Akihiko was my first love (p3p was crazy). I assume this is more a dot pointy request rather than a story like request? I am so sorry if you meant the latter 😭 either way, I hope you enjoy and WOW this authors note is long <3

Akihiko Sanada

- Ohhhh.....his little fangirls *despise* you.

- Not only because you're all personal with THE Akihiko

- But because to them, you're *disrespecting* him.

- Your teasing, your advances and your initiative kisses were absolutely vile.

- Akihiko though, he loves your affections...when...well, when he gets the memo.

- We all know he's the king of missing social cues.

- But when you throw a confident: "Hey Aki... Looking good!"

- It's a two way street.

- A) He absolutely does not recognise your intent was to flirt with him and thinks you're hyping up like Junpei would or something (he's stupid)

- B) Awkwardly standing there and cartoonishly rubbing his head as he awkwardly laughs and stutters. (he's stupid)

- He IS blushing. You make him blush really easily, actually. It starts from his neck and quickly creeps up, turning his whole face a sheen of pink. His ears are redddd though...

- After a moment of his brain making the windows reboot sound, he throws out the most DISMEMBERED ATROCIOUS NONSENSICAL SENTENCE YOU WILL EVER HEAR IN YOUR *LIFE*

- "h-haha girl...you...you...you're more...more even...even..?..."

- you literally have to shush him (affectionately)

- If you're feeling particularly malicious ..

-You'd reach up and wrap your fingers around his collar, pulling him towards you, mere inches from your lips. After a moment, you'd give him a sweet, tender kiss.

- You'd think he'd have some fight in him, quite literally being a boxer

- but it's not like he doesn't like when you're assertive....

- If anything, it's a reminder you really do love him. That you do want him. That you're not superficial, something he deals with literally everyday.

- He loves you, so so much and will probably randomly blurt it out at the most inopportune moment.

- Most likely when you're at hagakure together <3

Makoto Yuki/Minato Arisato

- He is incredibly perceptive, absolutely unlike Akihiko

- He'll pick up on every glance from across the room, every underlying meaning of the things you say.

- Should you try, your little attempts to embarass him will always be fruitless

- He will literally respond with a blank face and say "That'a cute."

- If instead you're assertive when it comes to physical affection, he won't say it (nor show it), but...he absolutely melts for it.

- Absolutely so stupid, butterfles in his stomach, weak knees for it.

- Running up to hug him once he comes back to the dorm.

- Initiating kisses, hugs from behind, reaching for his hand while you walk to school- you name it.

- He'll always be calm about it, and half of the time you're just trying to elicit a reaction from him

- "Try as you might, you know my charms work on you." You'd joke.

- "The only chance you have is if you use Marin Karin..." You tried not to laugh. You laughed anyways.

- Trying to be smug with Makoto was an uphill battle, but it was so, so fun

- And it probably just ended up with you two laughing.

- You were always proud of that fact, actually.

- No-one makes him laugh...except you, apparently.

-He needs someone strong spoken and assertive like yourself, because you're his perfect counterbalance.

-Overall, while being smug and assertive with him is pretty much ineffective, it does indicate your interest, and maybe, could even create a medium for flirting to occur...

[nights-at-crystarium]

i just wanted to pop by and gush about how incredibly well written vivi is because GOD. his story unfolding has made me reconsider several story beats about my wol and thats an amazing thing

theres two things that i think uve done especially well with his storytelling, being that vivi feels like an almost complete enigma to the reader, despite how intimate this story is, and the fact that vivi feels incredibly human - almost TOO human to be comfortable with

so to elaborate on the first point - i think a lot of us (and certainly i can) echo thancreds sentiment that he doesn't know vivian rell, because as intimate as this story can get with his pov, in the end, much like someone you'd meet in real life, we don't know much about him before the point we meet him, and any glimpses we get just signal that theres so much more to him than we get to see. and as much as we DO know about him, i find that every time he does one of his blank, furrowed stares that signal he's thinking something, my brain practically lights on fire trying to figure out what he's considering. to that end i really like how enigmatic uve made him from a storytelling perspective, because it makes him feel so much more real!!! i honestly look forward a lot to learning more fragments (heh) of him and slowly piecing together a puzzle of him as the story goes on. i just want to rotate him in my head lol

but also, this does segue into my other point really well, which is the fact that vivis position as wol really seems to wear on him, and he seems for lack of a better word, completely exhausted! i know (myself included) write their wols with a trait of an almost unbreakable, iron will, which is very much still true in vivis case (again, anyone who gets to the point of shadowbringers without flat out giving up is incredibly strong by default) but showing him at his wits end, exhausted with the burdens of a hero, someone just so throughly *done* with what is, realistically, a pretty shit job is well... yeah! of course he is! he's only human, and he's what, saved the world 3 times now? seen countless die before him, powerless to save them, of course he's numb. the fact that the most defining experiences of the first for him are filled with mostly such... benign experiences, and that the major, climatic moments of shadowbringers get as much fanfare as a forlong gaze, or a like. him hanging out with his fairy bestie is such a cool storytelling decision. (also before i ramble about this the decision to not even show tesleen is such an excellent decision bc like. it makes sense for him for this to not be such a significant moment. shes just another death, another tally to the thousands hes already seen. or maybe im reading WAYYY too hard into a decision to not highjack this love story with plot) basically, what i've been gushing about is the fact that vivi feels very much like a whole person, and is probably one of the most well realised wols ive ever read about. and his relationships with the world leaders, and this impossible burden hes forced to shoulder has gotten me to reconsider how i write my wol, because yeah! any hero might be strong-willed and resilient, but theyre still human, and the burden of a warrior of light is maybe, a little too much for anyone to bear.

i hope u could at least make something out of my rambles, but honestly to sum it all up i am incredibly captivated by vivi. i originally read fragments because i like ANY wolgraha content but now, i come back almost exclusively to see how vivi's story unfolds, and how graha eventually comes into the fold too. hes such a fascinating character, and i think youve done an incredible job of creating a well rounded hero, full of humanity!!! (also, if you want, feel free to post this on ur blog!!)

I think I shat myself like 5 times while reading this (positive)

Vivi being an enigma wasn't really part of the plan. We have a pool that's his lore, things I wanna tell, and a bottleneck through which it has to go. The comic format forces me to consider what bits of info to deliver when, there's only so much I can tell at a time. One deliberate choice I made is completely burn the bridge between ARR and ShB, skip, leave it empty. That already sparks questions when we see a different Vivi at the beginning of ShB (and gives me leeway, time to write with more nuance, I didn't Think about HW-SB in such scrupulous detail as ShB).

I wanted to tell a primarily ShB story from the start, but had less ambition, and planned to condense the angsty bits that you're reading nowadays into an infodump told by Vivi to no one (to the reader). Changing the receiving party to a tangible character who's eager to learn (Exarch) made the info easier to digest and anchored it in the world. This change, fwiw, happened in like 2022 while I drew the ARR arc, saw the warm reception, and got more excited about my thing. I constantly learn and try to improve, writing's a new toy that brings me tons of fun.

So, when I learned the new trick - telling things through other characters - I thought, why not make everyone slightly wrong, or rather, with a specific snapshot of Vivi in their head. Same happens irl, people only know the version of you that they're exposed to, the only person who knows the full and real you is you.

That brings me to the next point, why Vivi feels so human: I made him not as a wol/hero, but a guy I wanna ship with Exarch, his foil. Obligatory note it was dumb of me to ignore Emet's existence in that case, but that's already changed. Exarch denies himself the simple human joys, he plots his own fucking death, so I thought I'd give him a guy that teaches him how to enjoy being alive again. That was THE foundation of Vivi, his core. He's a manic pixie dream boy.

Then I started asking how and why: why he falls for Exarch specifically instead of ARRRaha? He's confident, selfish, casual (these traits are what Exarch lacks), emotionally intelligent, where did that come from? He must've had an utterly normal life and loving family before he became a hero. He grew up being appreciated and happy. OH, then his ass must LOATHE the current situation because he can't go back to that normal life! So on, so forth.

i find that every time he does one of his blank, furrowed stares that signal he's thinking something, my brain practically lights on fire trying to figure out what he's considering.

This's me carefully dropping the breadcrumbs and hoping that you notice them, and you go HOLY SHIT BREADCRUMBS, this's so validating ;w; <3 This's overtly called a story hook, though I prefer "door". So far this story's only opened doors, as in hinted at more stuff without immediately showing it. I love it when questions get delayed answers, when you get time to stew on it and build up anticipation, then, when the door finally closes, it's much more satisfying. I keep in mind all the doors I've opened, if something provokes a question, it's by design.

(also before i ramble about this the decision to not even show tesleen is such an excellent decision bc like. it makes sense for him for this to not be such a significant moment. shes just another death, another tally to the thousands hes already seen. or maybe im reading WAYYY too hard into a decision to not highjack this love story with plot)

You're 100% correct!! I'm not retelling the canon ShB story from a default wol pov, this's a custom thing focused on ships, therefore anything that doesn't contribute to said ships gets cut. You may read what's NOT shown as what Vivi doesn't pay attention to.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, this gave me so much motivation like you wouldn't know ;//////;

[thehistoriangirl]

hi!! i love your fics, they make my day 🩷

may i request a mel x reader where reader is an insecure artist?

thank you!

Hello Anon, thank you so much! I'm sorry this one took so long 😭😭 I struggled a little with how to write it, but I hope you enjoy it 🥺

In Seek of Perfection

Mel x gn!Artist! Reader---1.3K----SFW

The floor was covered in half-finished sketches whose edges peeked shadows of charcoal; a lonely lamp filling the studio with a dimmed golden hue.

One of them caught her attention among the dozen paper balls thrown everywhere.

Still, Mel was careful not to disturb the quiet space with the echo of her heels.

“Not hungry yet?” she said, leaning over your shoulder to see a blank page in front of you, your fingers stained with black juggling with a pencil. The bowl of fruits at the other side of the working table the same since the morning. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“No, not hung—” Yet your stomach betrayed you, a growling sound interrupting your sentence.

You sighed. “I just… I haven’t done any work today either. And the exhibit is going to be in six months. I need to submit something.”

Mel let go of your shoulders, and you felt how the weight started pressing down on them again. She walked in front of your desk to grab the stool where a wooden box sat atop, filled with unused pastels.

"You know you'd still have my support even if you don't submit anything to this year's Salon," Mel told you, settling the box aside as she took a seat with her hands crossed over her lap. The Medarda ring shone with a reminder. Your duty. Your role.

The artist, and her, the muse.

“Progress’ restless, just like this city,” you muttered. “You know what happens to those who get left behind.”

You’d seen more than your fair share of colleagues erased from the galleries and classrooms when their patrons moved on to the next shiny thing. Once their mastery had slipped just like the rest of their bright ideas.

Sure, the bonds tangled between you two ran deeper than simple portraits of Councilor Medarda she could hang up in the foyer of her house to show her influence and status in this city that had become her home. Just like it was yours, now.

“Art isn’t business. It shouldn’t be rushed.”

You fidgeted with the edge of your blank canvas, taking the newspaper you had hidden once the headline creating a ball of anxiety and envy to get caught in the middle of your throat.

Yazmine LaGarc opened a solo exhibit in one of Councilor Shoola’s galleries, becoming the hottest artist in Piltover, with her ceramics adorning only the wealthiest of houses. The worst part is that she was your classmate, and now, the one who once was at the top of the class has sunk to the bottom.

From your first masterpiece, you fell into a pool of mediocrity and unfinished jobs that ended up recycled or burned in the hearth, thinking that your attempt was just beginner’s luck, and an artist couldn’t be called so if they only created something fantastic by luck.

Every day you woke up without becoming the new sensation in the art world you felt like failing, with the reminder of your parents telling you to reconsider—that you were still welcomed to their merchant enterprise.

What if you were Mel’s protegee? It was a spot so desired that one day you’d be pushed aside. You weren’t worthy enough of being her favorite painter anymore. Perhaps you never were.

"You gave me an opportunity when purchase my painting at the Academic Salon. It was because of you that my name appeared in the side columns of arts during that weekend." You chuckled, such a bitter sound. "And look what I’ve become.”

Mel hummed, the sound redirecting your gaze toward hers.

“By that standard: Would you say that I’m not an artist just because I can’t paint every day that I’m not an artist?”

You blinked, feeling flustered. “No, of course not! But, well, you have a job… and… well, I don’t.”

"You work part-time at your parents' business," Mel called your name, one of her elbows propelled over the table, elegant fingers resting atop her jawline. “I decided to sponsor you because I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me. And you haven’t, but why do I feel like you’ve disappointed yourself?”

Her finger fiddled with the edge of the canvas. “You loved to do this, sitting for hours with that bad posture of yours—what happened, then? Does making not bring you joy anymore?”

Of course, she had noticed about your low productivity for the past weeks, and the lame work you'd produced the months before, results that only started raising questions in sensationalist newspapers about the so-called new art prospect. That your charm had burned out, that for the first time, Mel had committed a mistake by taking you under her patronage.

Day by day, the anger you felt toward the printed words started to drain your creative fuels, the creations bore by spite becoming absent once the disappointment settled in—so deep not even your sadness could evoke inspiration.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” you said, voice trembling. “Maybe my parents were right, and I should’ve taken the reins of the family business.”

Your vision became blurry, hot tears running down your cheeks even as you tried to furiously wipe them away. She didn’t have to see you this way, this small and pathetic.

"Have you ever wanted that?" Mel said, her voice stern. "You can always go back home, and tell them that you've made a mistake. They will take you in, and we both know it. This could end right here, back to all those days you sat on this hard wooden stool trying to create something grandiose. And yet, here you are. You are still trying." She gave you the smallest, most intimate smile. "And that's why you haven't disappointed me, why you shouldn't be disappointed with yourself."

She extended one of her hands, brushing away the tears with her thumbs before offering you one of her handkerchiefs, smelling like orange and lilies and just the faintest essence of the pigments she used to paint with, permeating in the fabric as a ghost.

“Not every painting and drawing you do will sell for millions, nor it will be praised. You can't live constantly gazing upward," Mel said, her eyes dropping to her lap to fidget with the Medarda’s family ring. "Or you'll forget about everything you have now. Everything you can take in to make art as you are right now." She called your name, the name of the self-artist burning the candle every other night to finish assignments, the one who drew and painted until your hands shook with cramps.

"I know I am pushing my hypocrisy here, but you ought to be lenient with yourself, just as you are with everyone else. With me when I must cancel my modeling sessions for my portraits." Slowly, Mel patted your cheek, the tip of your fingers playing with the tip of your ear as she sometimes did when you lay with her on the couch by the fire. “Can you try?”

From your shaking lips unable to pronounce words, you nodded.

She smiled, relieved and proud, as she had always been regarding you. From under her sleeve, Mel took out one of the sketches you discarded earlier, her hands ironing the wrinkles while pressing it atop the blank canvas.

“I like this one,” she said, pointing at a self-portrait reflected on a mirror, showing two images: one the artist, filled with rich details of decorative lines against the simple, weary face of the person reflecting in the mirror. “Art shouldn’t be all about beauty and grandiosity, my dear. Piltover’s too used to perfection, they don’t know what it takes to achieve it. Perhaps you shall show them.”

A small smile tugged the corner of your lips, feeling ashamed Mel had taken the time to observe your discarded ideas.

Mel chuckled, standing up from the seat and offering you a hand. “Well, I’d say dinner must be served already—would you like to accompany me tonight?”