#all that on top of any future commissions

[mjrdm]

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[leohtttbriar]

i mostly just pretend that the curzon-loving-jadzia thing didn't happen because acknowledging it honestly makes me so frustrated and uncomfortable and it reveals too much of the biases underlying the writing of one of the more interesting star trek characters (to me) in any series. but, setting aside my reactive feelings about this reveal, i can read a narrative purpose and theme in this that i don't think was deliberate but is still interesting.

by the time she finds out that the reason she was rejected and then accepted into joining with a symbiont was due to curzon's feelings for her--attraction and then guilt, she'd already: a) held up curzon's promise, at the risk of her own lifelong imprisonment, to protect curzon's former lover, b) held up another of curzon's promises to kill a guy in battle (despite being told she shouldn't have to by kira of all unlikely people), c) had her symbiont taken away from her outside of her choice and then joined with the person who took it at gunpoint, and d) learned that the symbiosis commission lied to her to cover themselves about the fact that her symbiont had once been joined to a murderer, a person she then had to accept within herself or die about. and then she learns that the most recent host of her symbiont had feelings for her, who she was pre-joined. on top of all this, sisko has been calling her "old man" since he met her because sisko remembers curzon. and it's a joke--she's a young woman, it's ironic--but that's still the nickname he gave her. this man, curzon, who she has to carry with her for the rest of her life. who was a burden (which she accepted with a certain kind of nobility) before she found out about his feelings and his subsequent unjust actions because of those feelings.

she learns and experiences all this and then she meets lenara. and lenara breaks her heart and chooses trill society and custom. and lenara says to her, explaining why she's not going to choose to be adventurous or brave and go against the norms, "we don't all have a curzon inside of us". which is sort of crazy for her to say given that it was torias's memories that inspired jadzia's initial connection to lenara, not curzon's. (and like torias was established in the show as being a daredevil pilot who took big risks. so why mention curzon at all?)

and then after jadzia meets worf, she accidentally gets all the main crew trapped on a planet in "children of time" where she meets both her great-grandson and future host of her symbiont and it's his actions that have ensured she crash there and have to commit to reproducing with worf so he and the rest of the colony can exist.

so, counting, that's curzon, varad, joran, torias, and yedrin--all male hosts of jadzia's symbiont and all who in some way hurt her. and in each instance the conclusion to her agential action in each story was simply accepting it.

the curzon of it all is the most frustrating part. people have joked that jadzia is like a klingon "weeaboo" and it's true, there's so many instances where she performs klingon culture--sincere or not, there's still a level of performance. and that interest and that memory of past relationships with other klingons comes from curzon. and it's one of the reasons i was a little annoyed that sisko scolded her like a child and insisting she's a prideful young woman when she doesn't want to go through a ritual she had promised to do to marry worf. he calls her “old man” constantly, the value of her curzon memories has been celebrated again and again, the value and source of her personal choices have been attributed to curzon, her life as a joined person came solely down to curzon’s control, curzon is the previous host mentioned most who is implied (deliberately or not in the show) to have the most influence over who she is—and she’s called a little girl over a moment of maybe unearned pride and told she is not curzon.

all of this would read better to me if: a) we got way more substance about who jadzia was as a person before being joined and b) if dax’s other previous hosts, like, perhaps, some of the women, were given equal consideration and implied screen-presence. but as it is, as it’s written, deliberately or not, jadzia’s story is one of accepting the things that come at you and the people that hurt you, especially if you have to carry them in the most intimate way. this frames a lot of her actions in later seasons as one of a person who has to keep learning this lesson and then frames her death, with all its other accidentally concordant details like quark and julian lamenting they’d never gotten with her or the random introduction of her wanting a baby with worf.

obviously i think the intent when writing jadzia dax was not to write someone who swallows her opinions and convictions and pride. i think the intent was to write someone both youthful and old, fun and intelligent, committed to the ideals of exploration but also committed to her brothers-in-arms, so to speak, and in all that they succeeded. she’s a really fascinating character and is performed and written still with a richness of person that i think a lot of fans don’t give the character credit for. but the resulting character also has all these instances of learning a similar lesson over and over: accepting people who have wronged her and also that an enormous portion of her value comes down to curzon--the memories that she didn’t make but she still has to honor and own.

this is also why i sort of wish they'd had a plot where, like, jadzia is injured, she insists they remove the symbiont to send it back to trill to be joined to another, they do but it pisses julian off and he and his augmented-brain team figure out how to keep jadzia alive after the symbiont has been taken away, and like it’s a dire and permanent solution and it’s disabling maybe in some way, but it works and she’s alive, and then lenara hears about what’s happened when she realizes the dax symbiont is being joined to someone else and she races to jadzia’s side because now it’s just a gray area of the law, being together, and jadzia is like “i’m just jadzia now” and lenara is like “cool, can you help me build an artificial wormhole again? one that lasts?” because like, jadzia has several science degrees. one of exactly two things about her pre-joining self that is fully textual. and lenara returing specifically to be with jadzia would have implied an enormous amount of non-curzon-derived worth. and that’s how jadzia dax is written off the show, instead.

[padmerry]

Ford’s love for & view of Stan pre-memory erasing: a lengthy analysis

A big misunderstanding going on in this fandom is the idea that Stan was the one yearning for Ford while Ford was too busy hating Stan (at worst) or at least thinking he hated Stan (at best), too focused on his research and academic accomplishments to pay his repressed/heavily denied love for Stan any mind, up until Stan’s sacrifice in Weirdmageddon. Ambitious, self-centered Ford, who would be shocked at the preposterous idea that he still loved Stan deep down if, say, his post-Weirdmageddon future self revealed it to him. “I thought I hated you, but I was wrong,” old Ford says to Stan, remorseful... and painfully out-of-character!

Another very popular idea is that Ford genuinely values the greater good over Stan, to the point he wouldn’t have rescued Stan if their positions were reversed. This idea is so rooted in people’s minds that when Ford’s most dedicated fans attempt to defend him, they argue that he was right to be angry about being rescued from the portal because Stan was acting irresponsibly (as if Ford wouldn’t have done the same thing). This is not about anyone in particular—it’s a tendency I’ve seen repeated again and again and again, in different ages of this fandom.

The gap between Stan needing Ford vs Ford needing Stan is so big in some people’s minds that they seem to think that poor, guilty Ford ending up with Stan all alone on a boat wasn’t the best ending for him. That was just Alex trying to make a point about “family above all” in a show about family, teaching Ford a lesson, and rewarding Stan’s unhealthy codependency...

It’s just incredible how Ford’s own love and yearning towards Stan is shoved under the rug by the fans!

I understand why, of course. Ford is arguably the most complex character in Gravity Falls. His love for Stan is shown more subtly than Stan’s love for him. You have to actually pay close attention, and often enough people aren’t invested enough in the Stan twins’ relationship to do so. Sometimes because they’re more invested in the relationship of Stan and/or Ford with other characters, and this is not throwing shade, either—on my part, I can admit I am so invested in them that I don’t care as much for other characters, and that’s natural.

My most controversial takes here are: 1) Ford has always known he loved Stan. Yes, even at his most bitter. He just didn’t think Stan was worthy of that love. 2) Ford valued his family, including Stan, over any noble ideal of greater good. 3) Ford missed Stan and yearned for his company just as much as Stan missed Ford and yearned for his company. I have dedicated this particular meta to pointing out not all moments (that would make it longer than Tolstoy’s War and Peace, just by the amount of times Ford mentions Stan in his journal) but the most telling ones re: Ford’s repressed but obvious love for Stan and their implications. I’ll break it into a few different subjects that I believe drive my point across.

Ford’s sentimentality over Stan:

A good place to start as any. Stan is in literally everything Ford does, sometimes in ways so subtle that people miss it, and in ways that Ford himself would love to deny, even if it meant lying to himself. Ford is very, very sentimental, and that is reflected in his relationship with Stan through the decades, with all the different paths he takes to cling to his past and the idea of his brother.

Let’s explore some examples, shall we? We don’t need to go far.

First of all, the Mystery Shack cottage, commissioned by Ford and built by Dan Corduroy according to Journal 3, is clearly based off a childhood toy he shared with Stan.

It doesn’t stop there, of course. Ford loves his boat motif decorations. (At least the boat on top of the shelf is very likely Ford’s choice of d��cor, and not Stan’s, given that it’s placed beside Ford’s shrunken heads referenced in Journal 3; we know that the boat painting belongs to one of the Stan twins and not Dipper, since it was already there in Tourist Trapped as Dipper arrives. I think it’s fair to assume, given the boat on top of the shelf, that it was also Ford’s.)

And would you look at that, his favorite place in his beloved Gravity Falls, a town full of wondrous places full of fantastical anomalies and literally a weirdness magnet, is, for some reason, a lake. A very weird lake? A very cool lake? No, a lake that reminded him of his childhood, aka Stan (as seen by the drawing of a boat and the codified message). “There is no other place in Gravity Falls I would rather be than the lake.”

But that isn’t enough for Ford. He must keep, still, pictures and videos of Stan. I won’t even focus, here, on the picture of the Pines family that Ford stares at in the beginning of his college days, despite Stan and Ford being at the very center of it and it being a visual parallel to Stan’s own picture of him and his brother. That one included Filbrick and Caryn, and the speaker had just mentioned making one’s family proud. But what about the rest?

People usually focus on the overall adorableness of, say, Ford leaning his head on Stan’s shoulders or Ford’s apologies (again, in Journal 3) to notice the implications of what Dipper says: “Ford even found an old film reel of them as kids, which he amazingly saved all these years.” Even Dipper himself is amazed. I’ve seen people assuming that Ford had these and forgot about them, or that Caryn was the one to send him these and he simply agreed to avoid a fight (there is a tendency in this fandom to think of her as a very doting and/or caring mother, but we have no evidence to think so, as explained here). Years later, TBoB was like, “nuh-uh, that was all Ford Pines!” In TBoB, Ford not only does remember some of these itens, but he makes a conscious effort to hide them from Fiddleford, worried that his friend was getting “too close” (to what? to the inner depths of his heart and mind, where Stanley was?) “I’ve quickly re-hidden here, away from prying eyes.”

And a picture of teenage Stan (as seen below), too! You would think he would just attach himself to the idealized version of baby Stan in his head to feed his nostalgia and completely ignore teenage Stan, the traitor, the one who destroyed his science project. But no, Ford wouldn’t be Ford if he acted consistently about Stan. The funniest thing to me about the ripped yearbook page is that it implies Ford made the conscious decision to include Stan as he ripped the page off, when he could have just focused on his own picture. And then we also have his drawing of Stan, a perfectly accurate portrayal of Stan’s face as he got kicked out, implying that not only he paid an enormous amount of attention to his brother and how he looked like back then (after he closed the curtains), but that particular image was living rent free in his brain. Very vividly. With details.

Now, folks, do we have any doubt whatsoever of the power Stan had in Ford’s psyche? Seeing that this is how the bedrock of Ford’s mind looked like? The boat, the swing set? I’ve seen it suggested before that these items represent Ford’s greatest regrets—I don’t know if I fully agree with that take, seeing as the swing set is fully intact, unlike in Stan’s mind, but one thing is true: they represent what Ford deep down thinks is most important, and two of three are directly related to Stan. Even the portal, from a certain angle, is connected to Stan.

Now, another thing that I believe to be related to that, is the claim that Ford didn’t spare Stan a single tought in the many decades they went separated. But here is Ford, casually confessing that he spent the last thirty years thinking of Stan:

But back to pictures. According to Alex in the commentary of Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls, that picture of Stan has always been in Ford’s coat pocket, through all the decades, even before Bill’s betrayal. That’s why it’s so damaged. He was dimension hopping with it. I don’t think I even need to make any comment here, hahah.

I almost imagine if McGucket found that photo in his, you know, coat while they’re working on the portal or something... [imitating Fiddleford’s creaky voice] “What’s this? What’s this here?” And Ford says, [imitating Ford’s deep, very serious voice] “OH, yes. That’s a very important moment, that’s when I, um, first decided I wanted to be an adventurer.” [...] There would be NO reference to... the real reason he’s keeping it [...]. “Oh yes, this is about, uh, science, as a horizon, as a frontier to reach towards. You know, like a boat, like a ship, like science. It’s about SCIENCE!”

Ford’s protectiveness:

Stan Pines is very much ones of Ford’s weaknesses. Ford knows this and accepts this with shocking ease. How so? Well, first of all, the nightmare he had. As he tells us about it in Journal 3, even though he attempts to make light of the situation, his hand is clearly trembling as he writes, making drops of ink splatter on the page. The climax of his nightmare, the peak, the scariest moment was when Ford realized he was not the one at risk; rather, Stan was. “I realized my hand wasn’t chasing after me at all—it was chasing after my brother, and it was going to squeeze him to death!”And then, may it be noticed, there was no hesitation whatsoever on Ford’s part about whether to save Stan or not, nor does he try to hide his protective reaction. It was immediate and instinctive. “I tried to run to help him, but my feet were frozen.” It’s very telling that the Dream Hipster, the nightmare inducing ghost, thought that Stanley Pines would be the most effective thing to make Ford shake in his boots. Not even, say, failing and being ridiculed by other scientists, considering how ambitious he was.

And you know who else has noticed this weakness? Bill Cipher, of course. After psychologically, emotionally, and physically abusing Ford in horrific manners (including but not limited to: forcing him to eat spiders, driving a nail into his hand, and making him wake up on the snowy roof of the Mystery Shack as a symbolic threat of forced suicide), Bill involves Stan, as the grand finale. “But then he crossed a line.” Why was Ford’s brother that line, after everything Ford himself went through? “No. He wouldn’t.” Ford couldn’t even believe Bill’s audacity in involving Stan, even though he very much already knew Bill was as evil as evil could get. Because Bill knew, having free access to Ford’s mind, how terribly important Stan was: the person Ford loved the most in the world, more than himself.

You could still argue, then, that Ford wasn’t very protective of homeless Stan. After all, how could he have allowed his brother to be homeless in the first place?

Simple: he didn’t know. There’s a lot of things about mullet!Stan that Ford didn’t know! From canon, namely TBoB and Journal 3, we can deduce that Ford didn’t think of him as homeless, thought he was doing well for himself, living a well traveled charlatan/adventurer’s life, perhaps even a friend/member of the mob:

As Stan was kicked out, he told Ford (and the rest of the family), “Fine! I can make it on my own! I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone! I’ll make millions and you’ll rue the day you turned your back on me!” The way I see it, Ford took that at face value. Stan didn’t seek Ford out in those ten years, either, presumably out of a mix of pride, shame and self-hatred, so Ford could only assume Stan truly didn’t need him. Despite the many, many crossed out mentions of Stan in Journal 3, I think Ford at least tried to not let his mind linger on thoughts about Stan too much, because that hurt.

In his most recent interview, by HanaHyperfixates and ThatGFFan in 2023/2024, Alex talked about Ford’s issues:

He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, “oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.”

I think he is, uh, deeply deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships.

If he sees achievement and creation as distractions from his real feelings, no wonder Stan didn’t get a call (or a postcard) from him earlier.

We also have Ford’s condescending, but protective, attitude towards Stan in TBoB as he considers asking for his help. Condescending protectiveness, if you will:

Notice how Ford briefly looks at Stan when Stan rants about his life:

A very ☹️ face. He’s probably surprised and concerned about what he’s hearing.

And then Stan, unfortunately but understandably, starts insulting/accusing him of selfishness:

You can notice the ☹️ face slowly becoming 😠 as Stan started attacking.

Again, when Ford accidentally hurts Stan by branding him:

That’s not even ☹️ anymore, it’s almost 😩! Things would probably have deescalated and perhaps even been fixed if Stan, unfortunately but understandably, hadn’t punched Ford in the face as retaliation.

“Oh, but what about old Ford kicking Stan out after everything, then?”

I think a lot of people who talk about this moment operate under the assumption that Stan was, well, completely and thoroughly screwed if Ford followed with his original man. An old man, no place to go, no money...

But Stan did have money. A lot.

No, really, he had, per his own words, in the extra commentary of Land Before Swine:

I do have a son, Benjamin Abe Hamilton Washington. This pile of money I’ve collected over the years! That’s my true family. Y’know, I can sorta glue it together into the shape of a child, maybe… Eh, I dunno. I do my best, right? And I do have—I do actually—not to brag, but I have an obscene amount of money. Uh, y’know, all the years of collecting and etcetera—and also grifting!

I’m not defending Ford’s actions here. Ford is my favorite character, but I’m not a Ford defender, hahah. You could still argue that what he did was an ungrateful, jerky move, and I would agree. I’m just against painting it as a “Ford doesn’t care at all about Stan’s safety” moment. Especially because, when Ford told Stan he wanted his house back, sufficient time had already passed. Enough for Ford to change his clothes, visibly, and enough for them to have had a talk, in which Stan could have revealed this little fact about himself.

Another thing I’d like to address is that Ford doesn’t hesitate at all to save Stan when he gets into trouble and acts natural about it, which is way more that we can say for Stan (as seen by how Stan reacts when Ford is kidnapped by Probabilitor the Annoying and when Ford is turned into a golden statue by Bill):

Again, not saying that Stan wasn’t justified in not wanting to help/save Ford after Ford’s blatant ungratefulness (I’m also sure he didn’t know Bill was actually torturing Ford). Not the point.

Now, back to Bill.

What I always loved about his little victory moment in Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls is that upon surprising his enemies with his appearance, he proceeds to turn everyone into tapestry, including even Fiddleford (whom we know Ford cares a lot about!) but forces himself to spare Stan and the kids and place them inside the cages, even though they didn’t know the equation and would have zero usefulness to him. That could only be because he thought he could use them against Ford, so Stan was obviously included (instead of turned into tapestry or outright killed) for that very purpose. From a Doylist perspective, of course they couldn’t have excluded Stan, since he was one of the main characters; for the sake of character analysis, though, this is the best explanation in-universe.

That is why, when Stan-as-Ford tells Bill, “My only condition is that you let my brother and the kids go!” Bill easily believes him. Because he thought that it would be in-character for Ford. And Bill wouldn’t be wrong, not at all. He wouldn’t, because Ford himself was the one to tell Stan, just a moment earlier: “We need to take his deal. It’s the only way he’ll agree to save you and the kids.” It’s blaffling to me how many fans seem to forget Ford’s own words, and the fact Ford was very, very much willing to damn the whole universe (with seven billion people living on Earth at the time) to save three (3) people, including Stan. That Stan himself was the one to oppose and stop him. I think that happens because people buy Ford’s facade of Cold Responsible Greater Good Guy, which couldn’t be more deceiving. At this point I’m begging you guys to look deeper!

One common misconception about Ford’s character—not only Ford, but many, many fictional characters I have had the pleasure of considering blorbos—is that people take his facade at face value and judge him based off that. You’re falling for his bullshit. You’re looking at Ford and seeing exactly the man he wants you to see, instead of the man he is.

Ford demonstrated being hypocritical many, many times through the show, the comics, his journal, and even TBoB. I would go so far as to say it’s a Known Personality Trait of his. He chews Stan’s ass for being selfish, reckless, a criminal. Then proceeds to be: selfish and completely unaware of it, ten times more reckless, and a much more dangerous kind of criminal. He reproaches Stan for risking the world for only one person, but would have done the same thing.

Now, the last point of this particular subject: Ford and the erasing of Stan’s memories, which is sometimes interpreted as Ford prioritizing the greater good, or the kids’ safety, over Stan.

Dear reader, Ford erased Stan’s memories because he had literally no other choice. This is what Ford said to him: “He’ll be able to take over the galaxy and maybe even worse, but at least he might let the kids free.” Emphasis on the might, here. Might! Perhaps! Maybe! Perchance! Ford, in this line, was referring to Bill’s immediate threat to the kids’ lives—Bill had, after all, ran after Dipper and Mabel with a terrifying threat of disassembling their molecules as their grunkles were forced to watch inside their cage, powerless to stop him. After reflecting about their whole situation, he included Stan’s safety in the deal, too, now more certain than ever about his decision to sacrifice not only himself but, in his own words, “the galaxy” (and later, “the universe,” as he was pretending to be Stan) to, again, perhaps (!!!) save his family. Ford had literally no guarantee Bill would follow through with his words. Given Bill’s track record, it was way, way more likely that he wouldn’t. Bill is a liar and a manipulator through and through, one who takes great enjoyment in people’s suffering. Ford’s suffering, specifically, above all, since TBoB painted Bill as this toxic and possessive ex obsessed with his pet scientist. What were the chances?

Even if Bill, through some miracle, did end up keeping his word, we saw Bill’s plans for Earth in his daydream fantasies: taking a bite off the planet, drawing a smiley face on its surface as millions died... What a guy, that Bill! If the Earth was wrecked beyond repair, where would Stan and the kids live? How would they survive among all the chaos and destruction of the literal apocalypse? With nightmarish creatures lurking in every corner? With what food, what water, what shelter? Answer: they likely wouldn’t. The probability of human survival would be abysmally low.

Ford, tragically, had no other choice but to sacrifice Stan’s memories. It was that or risking the possibility of having to watch his family, including Stan, die horribly painful deaths at Bill’s sadistic hands or to condemn his family, including Stan, to a slower but still certain death after the entire human race perished.

Ford being aware of his love for Stan:

I have faith that most people already knew, to some extent, that Ford never stopped loving Stan, even at his angriest. A much lower percentage of these people, I believe, know that Ford himself was very much aware of that, and not in denial at all. He never even thought he hated Stan.

First, I choose to point out how young adult Ford, still in college, with his bitterness and resentment still very fresh, admits to missing Stan. He wrote, “MISS YOU” in their Bro Code, the code he memorized and never forgot. He not only thought about Stan, which would be understandable, since all of us have intrusive thoughts, but he took the time to write it down, and in code, which would be even more difficult than just writing it in English. That requires at least some level of acceptance. You may not be able to filter your thoughts, but you are able to filter your writing.

Ford does attempt to filter his writing, I know, by crossing out a lot of lines in Journal 3, most of them about Stan. But he does not cross out all of it. He freely admits to having a nightmare about Stan, to wanting to protect Stan from the giant six-fingered hand, to having the lake as his favorite place, to missing Stan. I think that Ford, if asked about his love for Stan back then, would also freely admit to it, as well. Stan is his twin brother, so of course he loves Stan.

One thing that always caught my attention is how Ford still refers to Stan as his “family” in the Journal, even after Stan’s attempt to disown him. Stan makes it pretty clear that, from now on, his “family” is just Mabel and Dipper:

Days after this, Ford didn’t seem to have taken this to heart, as seen by what he wrote in his Journal:

It’s way more likely than not that he IS including Stan, here. He says “the rest of the Pines,” instead of just “the children” or “the kids” or “the twins,” and even singles out Dipper as someone he trusts (contrasted with Stan and Mabel, whom he doesn’t).

I wonder if that’s just Ford being stubborn or if he really thinks his relationship with Stan is in a somewhat better place than it actually is.

I mean, for instance, this is their swingset (symbol of their relationship) in Stan’s mind:

And here it is Ford’s mind:

Still ominous, but very noticeably intact.

It’s ironic—I think that Ford was aware of his own love for Stan, but not aware of how damaged their relationship was from Stan’s POV.

Ford and stubborness:

I’ve also seen people saying that, if Stan hadn’t sacrificed himself, Ford would have continued, quote unquote, “hating” him. Or that his happy ending with Stan was a byproduct of his guilt over the same sacrifice, and not out of a genuine desire to reconnect with Stan. According to Alex’s commentary on this scene in Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls, that isn’t true, either:

This whole sort of conclusion here is—what we needed to happen in this scene was—we needed pressure to be at the point where Stan and Ford recognize their lifelong rivalry and Ford does a sincere apology to Stan. And almost more importantly, he acknowledges Stan’s intelligence. Like, he says, “you wouldn’t have fallen for Bill’s nonsense,” like, he recognizes his brother has a kind of intelligence that he doesn’t. [...] And even though it’s Stan who agrees to—“I’ll be the one! Erase my mind! It’s fine. It’s worth it.”—like, it’s a sacrifice for both, like, Ford at this point is willing to get his brother back and has to lose him again. Like, both of them were... just doing what they have to do here.

This means that Ford was already wanting to reconnect with Stan before Stan offered to sacrifice his own memories. His comment about how Stan wouldn’t have fallen for Bill’s flattery wasn’t just self-reproach or some comfort to Stan, but a conscious attempt to soften things between them.

Which also means Stan’s offer to sacrifice himself wasn’t actually necessary for Ford to forgive him (or switch the blame entirely, more like, and start blaming himself instead) but just came at the worst possible moment. It was too late for them, now.

Reconciling Ford’s love for Stan with his treatment of Stan:

Now, we arrive at the last problem, which is something I’ve seen a lot of people struggling with. How to even reconcile Ford’s love for Stan, something we see hints of again and again, with his treatment of Stan?

First, this infamous line in Journal 3, which is arguably the most vicious (towards Stan) Ford ever was in canon:

That’s probably also related to Ford’s control freak tendencies. If Ford admits to himself he is not in control, that he needs help from other people, that he is really that desperate... Well, he can’t admit that, so he rationalizes his way out of that conclusion by convincing himself he would be the one doing Stan a favor (offering him the chance to prove himself to Ford), and not the other way around. He doesn’t need Stan, he doesn’t need anyone; Stan is the one who needs him and his forgiveness. (This is the moment I get the urge to reference a manga protagonist with a very similar control freak mindset, Light Yagami from Death Note. Why am I always attracted to characters with deep cognitive dissonance issues who desperately shape their own narrative to convince themselves of their full control over it? Like a moth to a flame.)

Don’t get me wrong, I do believe Ford looked down on Stan—on people in general. There’s plenty of evidence for that in both Journal 3 and Word of God, if you count Word of God as evidence. Ford himself admits to that after Weirdmageddon. And let’s not forget what is probably the biggest elephant in the room, the 2016 TVInsider interview (if you’re nerdy enough to read such a long meta, you’re likely nerdy enough to have seen this quote already):

In terms of Stan and his brother’s conflict, we always wanted a moment where Ford saw that he was wrong. Ford’s spent an entire life imagining himself as this lone solitary hero and imagining his brother as this bumbling leech. From a narrative point of view, for Ford to see Stan be the hero finally lets Ford see the true side of his brother that he’s been too blinded by pride to see.

Ah, yes. Ford looking down on Stan enough to think of him as a “bumbling leech.” To most people, this sounds way harsher than “selfish jerk,” the term Ford himself used in Journal 3.

Fittingly enough, that was in the same interview Alex said Ford would have deserved to lose Stan:

If Stan had lost his memory for good, that would [have] provided some interesting narrative places for him and his brother to go, but ultimately the show is about the kids. Stan and his brother are meant to be a parable [that show] what can go wrong in a family relationship, [but also] show that, with hard work and sacrifice, the riff can be repaired. If Stan’s memory had been fully erased, it wouldn’t punish him so much because he’d be gone, but it would punish Ford, Dipper and Mabel most. Even though Ford might deserve that punishment, Dipper and Mabel do not.

The interesting thing here, though, is exactly that: losing Stan would be a punishment to Ford. Why? Because it would hurt. Why? Because Ford loved him. Enough, it seems, that he would suffer more with it than Stan himself would.

I think what confuses people so much is that they conflate love with like with admiration with trust with respect. They think of it as the same thing—a confusing, amorphous mass of positive feelings towards someone.

The way I see it, though, Dipper was someone Ford loved (considering love a deeply rooted, complex emotion), liked (felt general fondness/amiability towards), and trusted (to be capable of handling all the mystery stuff). Mabel was someone he loved (she was family), liked (she was weird and creative and pure-hearted!), but didn’t trust (due to his constant projecting; before anyone attempts do deny this, I’ll remind you that Ford himself admits in Journal 3 that Dipper was the only family member whom he had come to trust). Stan was someone he didn’t like nor trust, not anymore, certainly didn’t admire and—let’s be honest—barely respected (or didn’t respect at all, depending on your point of view), but still loved with the fierce intensity of one thousand suns.

I do believe Alex is at least mindful of the difference between love and respect, as seen by his commentary on Stan’s condescending love for Mabel in Land Before Swine:

But this idea that Waddles is sort of a metaphor for what Mabel loves. And Stan loves Mabel but he doesn’t—he doesn’t really think that anything she thinks is necessarily smart or right. You know, he loves like her, ah, she’s my sweet niece, but [Stan’s voice] “she doesn’t know anything.”

In the same interview by HanaHyperfixates and ThatGFFan referenced earlier in this post, Alex revealed his view of the Stan twins’ relationship:

Those characters at sea—it was so rich. They’re really really funny, because they both have major major blind spots. I can kinda write stories about them as a duo forever, because you can always excuse them both getting hyped on a bad idea for their own reasons, and then you can always come up with a reason for them to disagree about it, and it’s always sweet to see them come together again, because they’re so full of themselves, but they are also both so damaged they desperately need each other.

As you can see, the codependency is genuinely mutual, not something imposed on poor, guilty Ford after Weirdmageddon. One thing I find really interesting about Ford is his black & white mindset, the fact that the only way he knows how to be with Stan is a codependent way. They’re either separated and estranged or sailing completely alone on a boat for the rest of their lives. Either rivals or best friends forever. There’s no middle ground for him.

Dipper tells us in Journal 3: “Still, it’s taken about a week of intensive scrapbook therapy to get Stan fully back to himself. [...] Ford’s been working at it the hardest.” Ford was the one putting the most effort in getting Stan back. Despite all, I believe Ford is the person who loves Stan the most. Not the one who loves Stan better—that one would be Mabel, I believe, or Soos, who are non-judgemental and understanding. But Ford is the one who loves him with the most intensity, which is fascinating because for most of the show he doesn’t even know how to love Stan, as exemplified by his treatment of him. Too fierce, too selfish, too much of everything.

[emchante]

through every moment | l. norris

summary: 5 times lando comforted you + 1 time you comforted him

wc: 2.2k

helloo lovelies. this admittedly is a very old thing from my docs, but i thought i'd get it out there. i don't write for lando anymore (unless it's a commission), so i hope you enjoy it.

i. stressful day

you had one of those days where nothing seemed to go right— coursework was stressful, your to-do list for the day was never-ending, and you just felt drained. 

when you got home, lando immediately noticed how off you seemed. your shoulders were drooped, the way you lazily carried yourself and the biggest giveaway of it all; the look on your face. you looked done, exhausted. lando hadn’t seen you in such a state in a long time. 

with the stream he had in mind now forgotten, he made his way to you as you still stood near the front door. you lazily kicked off your shoes, threw your jacket on one of the pegs and then turned to be met with lando’s sympathetic gaze.

without a word lando wrapped you in a tight hug, holding you to his chest as his cheek rested on top of your head. a soft smile painted its way onto his face when you melted into his embrace, feeling the weight of the day slowly dissipate.

“we don’t have to talk about it,” he whispered, moving so his lips were brushing your forehead. after placing a gentle kiss on the skin he heard a faint sniffle against him, and felt you slightly shake against him. lando gave you a soft squeeze, his right hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. 

“just relax, i’ve got you.”

ii. anxiety 

you’d been spiraling about your future all night, overthinking every possible outcome. lando knew something was up, because you just weren’t yourself. it was as if a shell of yourself was in front of him, and it worried him. you hadn’t spoken to him about anything, and he didn’t want to force it out of you. he knew you’d talk to him when you were ready. 

and it took a few days, but you did eventually go to lando and talk things out. about how you were feeling with the thought of the future in your mind, every little possibility— good and bad. lando was taken aback at the word spew he was presented with, your thoughts were spilling out faster than you could control, which you yourself didn’t even realise. 

but lando listened patiently, never interrupting you. he let you get it all out, no matter how long it took. when you finally paused, a large sigh escaping your lips, lando reached over to take your hands in his own. he gently stroked the back of them with his thumbs, the roughness of his thumb pad a stark contrast to your softer skin. 

“you don’t have to figure everything out right now,” he started, his voice soft. “you don’t have to have everything figured out right now. you’re already doing amazing and i know whatever happens, you’ll be great.”

you felt yourself tearing up as he spoke, not expecting him to comfort you so well with such few words. lando could see the tears welling up in your eyes and couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped his lips, moving one of his hands to your face as he wiped them away. 

“don’t cry love,” he told you, smile still wide on his face. you shook your head and wiped your eyes as you felt more tears well up. 

“that was so sweet, i’ve never heard you be such a softie,” you sniffled, your own shaky laugh escaping you now. lando dramatically gasped, shoving your shoulder gently as another giggle escaped you. 

lando couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you, heart swelling with pride as he realised he was cheering you up, helping you. his hands moved to your sides and you gasped as his fingers worked against you, causing you to let out a burst of laughter as you tried to kick him off. 

“take that back!”

iii. homesick

being away from home for long stretches of time wasn’t new, it was part of your lifestyle now that you were with lando. just because it was part of your life, didn’t make it any easier to handle. this particular race weekend, the distance was hitting you a lot harder than usual. 

lando noticed how much quieter than usual you were; sitting off to the side, staring at your phone, scrolling through old photos of family. it didn’t take a genius to put together what was wrong with you this weekend. 

sitting down next to you, lando placed his hand on your knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. you gave him a weak smile, shutting your phone off and turning towards him so you could give him your full attention. 

“missing home?” he asked gently, testing the waters to see if you wanted to speak about it. when you didn’t verbally reply— with only a nod in return— he could tell it wasn’t a conversation you were wanting to have. lando gave you a sympathetic smile, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“let’s call your family then,” he suggested, nodding his head towards your phone. you were slightly taken aback, as lando had media duties. it wasn’t exactly something he could miss.  

“but you—” you went to try fight back, but lando cut you off immediately. “i still have time, and who says i don’t miss them too?” he winked at you, making a more genuine smile finding its way onto your face. you nodded, and moved your phone so it was in the middle of you both, letting lando see as you tapped to the facetime icon, and started to ring your family. 

“can’t wait for your mum to tell me i’m her favourite.”

iv. insecurities 

you had been feeling off lately, doubting yourself in small ways, but the small things started to build up and it was all weighing on you. you usually managed to talk yourself down from it, realising it was simply overthinking. but this time was different. 

after one particularly rough night with battling your insecurities, you decided to go to lando about it. you confessed to him that you didn’t feel great about yourself lately, lots of little things nagging away at you. 

it scared you how quiet lando was, still and unmoving. it only made you feel worse. but before you could start to overthink about that too, lando’s hands made their way up to your face, cupping your cheeks softly. he let his thumbs brush over your cheeks momentarily before speaking. 

“i don’t want to hear you saying that about yourself,” he told you sternly, and you immediately grimaced and felt bad for bringing it up to him. it was stupid of you, really. 

“sorry, i shouldn’t have mentioned it. i—” you started to apologise, trying to stop the subject but lando pinched your cheek making you yelp. you frowned at him, refocusing your attention on him when you saw his raised brow. 

“no, i’m glad you did. but i don’t want to hear you talking down on yourself like that,” he explained, reassuring you. lando leaned into place a soft kiss on your lips, before pulling back. “you’re my pretty girl, aren’t you?” he asked, smirking as he saw you flush. 

“lando, stop,” you whined, but couldn’t help but kiss him back when he leaned in again. the kiss was longer this time, more passionate than chaste. you let out a small noise when his tongue grazed your bottom lip, pulling on it as he pulled away. he looked into your eyes, and you felt yourself swallowing thickly as you recognised the look that was clouded within his gaze. 

moving his hands off of you, he swiftly moved to pick you up, hands holding you by your ass as he walked you both towards your shared bedroom. your head rapidly switched between the direction you were walking in, and lando’s gave. you gasped when you realised where he was taking you, and the stupid smirk was still on his face. 

dropping you onto the bed, lando had his knees at either side of you, looking down at you as you lay below him. his hands trailed your body and you felt yourself growing more flustered as his touch continued. whining his name you tried to move his hands. 

“no no, let me show my sweet girl how pretty she is.”

v. when you were sick

you had caught a nasty flu from the last trip you and lando were on, which had left you bedridden when you arrived back home. you weren’t too bothered, you knew it would clear up soon enough. lando on the other hand was a different story. you had told him not to worry, that you’d be fine. but lando refused to leave your side, making sure to tend to any and all of your needs. 

it was a week off racing, which worked in his favour for staying with you at all costs. you made sure he was still following his routine, not allowing him to break it because you were ill. when his schedule was free though, he was in bed right next to you, making sure you were okay. 

he brought you warm soup, made sure you were warm enough, and sat with you through every episode of your comfort show that you were now rewatching, hoping it would raise your spirits. 

at one point, as one of the episodes played the intro, you groggily apologised to lando for being so out of it. lando shook his head though, disregarding your apology as one of his hands moved to the stray hairs around your face, gently brushing them away. 

“no apology needed, you’re sick. i don’t expect you to be as alert as you usually are,” he reassured you, leaning into kiss your forehead. your skin was hot, it slightly worried him but he tried to brush off thought, seeing as you told him too many times to count that he shouldn’t be worried. 

you leaned your head against his shoulder, whining about how disgusting you felt when you were sick, and how annoyed you were you couldn’t kiss him on the lips. lando chuckled at the latter, but gave you a small nudge at the first thing you said. he told you he always found you stunning, even if you had major bedhead and a bright red face. it was your turn to give lando a nudge back. 

“i’m being nice! i told you, you’re always my pretty girl.”

+1 when lando needed you

lando had just finished a race, where nothing seemed to go right. an early collision, some strategy mishaps which lead to him not even hitting the points despite all his effort, due to the damage the car has taken. he usually tried to brush off bad races with a witty comment or a joke to the people around him, trying to keep the spirits up a little. but today, you could see the frustration and disappoint evident in his eyes, and the slump in his posture when nobody had their eyes on him. 

you decided to wait for him in his drivers room, allowing him to have his own space before he had to get his post-race duties done. as soon as he had done everything that was required, he practically bolted for his drivers room. 

lando was staring at the floor as he walked into his room, slamming the door shut rougher than usual. looking up he saw you standing with your arms open for him, and he took a couple of slow steps over before he allowed himself to melt into your arms, holding you against him so tightly— as if you’d disappear otherwise. 

you rubbed his back softly, placing your chin on his chest as you looked up to him. you give him a look, one that encouraged him to talk. lando sighed, his voice low and defeated as he spoke up. “today was a fucking failure, i just— i can’t stop thinking about it. thinking about what i should’ve done differently.”

you gave lando a sympathetic look as you leaned up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “you shouldn’t be dwelling on it, nothing can change now,” you started, your hands moving to his chest as you rubbed slow circles into it.  “it’s just one race, lan. you’ll bounce back, you always do.”

he sighed, leaning his forehead against your own as he shut his eyes. the tension still lingered in his body, but it was starting to slowly ease, now he had you with him. once he opened his eyes to look at you again, you spoke up. 

“you don’t have to be perfect all the time,” you whispered, one of your hands moving up to his hair; playing with his messy curls. “you’re allowed to have bad days, too. i’m here, no matter what.”

a small smile appeared on lando’s face at your reassuring words, his hands resting on your waist as he pulled your body right against his own. “thank you,” he finally spoke up, his eyes meeting yours with a look of vulnerability he rarely showed. “i love you,” he murmured quietly, staring at you expectantly.. desperately. 

“i love you too, so much.”

[optionalwarninglabels]

"The gorgeous female ghost with a poisonous heart" by @artingstarvist, an illustration for @naamah-beherit 's fic "you promise me heaven, then put me through hell"

For the last year I have been working on a complication bookbind of any and all fem!Hua Cheng, fem!Xie Lian, and hualesbian fics I can get permission for. This fic was obviously going to be a part of it and when @artingstarvist opened commissions, I knew I needed an illustration to add to the bind. The bind is still a WIP, but I hope to have updates in the near future!

Anyway - LOOK AT THIS ART!!! I have been enamored with Missy's style since coming across it in her fic Never Forget, Never Forgive (if you're looking for a rec - it is at the top of my list. A phenomenal coffin rescue fic with a sequel currently posting weekly!) She did an amazing job researching for the design; I keep finding more details each time I look at it. From the way she reincorperated bells into Hua Cheng's skirts, to the Miao inspired jewelry and the butterfly motifs - it is perfect!

[thefaiao]

Here's a portrait I did based on the movie Hackers (1995), which I'm posting on its own because I want to talk about this movie!

I had never watched the movie before working on this commission, but it was truly magical to watch. I've been kind of taking in what I watched over the last days and it has given me so many thoughts that I don't even know to begin. Watching without any knowledge of how the movie was received, I was shocked to learn that there is a major split in opinions about the movie, which has left me completely puzzled. How can a movie, that in my eyes is simply phenomenal, be even able to receive such negative reviews to this day?

I think the keyword here is what I used to describe the movie: magical. There is a magic circle that needs to be accepted and entered for you to truly enjoy the movie, and see how the silly sequences are a depiction of reality that is juiced up, and not a substitute of reality. If you just take the movie at face value, you won't be able to appreciate how this effect works. You'll think just because an interface is translated as two obvious HACK buttons, they can in no way actually be depicting hacking. But they are, the movie does a lot to show its appreciation and love for the scene, with accurate references to relevant books, multiple little "tricks" like phreaking and resetting the phone to call someone other than your lawyer when you get arrested. You can appreciate that effort and also how it was dressed up to resonate more with a larger audience, and keep the movie's amazing pace!

Now there are also things that maybe were taken for granted in movies of this time. The set design and costumes are fantastic, and somehow still feel fresh today. Maybe they are not realistic but they are effortlessly cool in a way I think almost no one does well nowadays. All the characters are visually strong and are immediately identifiable, on top of having great chemistry and represent a decent variety of archetypes. Despite being a movie, it communicates strongly that this world is bursting with life and character, that the game is not set, and that there is still future ahead of us. They have a scene of the main guy wearing lingerie in a dream, and the main girl joyously, sincerely smiles at the thought. That is a deep understanding of the human spirit.

Yet it kills me! It kills me that people watch this movie and think it's "terrible" or "cringy", that they don't have eyes to see how much heart it has. People have convinced themselves that reality can only exist within their brain specifically, that there is no use for magic, even in movies, even in books and games. What's the point of being smart if you just want all the answers handed to you? The abstraction is not a defect, it's a working piece.

The people who saw the world through these cold lens have removed all of the punk and empowerment that the movie champions. They boiled down the culture to just code and went on to make lame companies that serve to optimize suffering and take the people's ability to actually interface and express themselves through computers and electronics as a whole.

You can accept both the material reality and understand the purpose of abstraction and interpretation beyond furthering material gain. Perhaps the movie didn't intend to show me such a complex message, but that's what I got from it, and it gave me room to interpret it that way, allowed me to be curious.

That's all I have to say. Maybe I'm preaching to the crowd, but whatever. When you approach something, have heart! Without your heart, your head would have no blood, and your mind, no thoughts. Treasure, and use, it!

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Elise

Request: Butler (Monster) x Fem Chubby Reader: Honestly you can take full creative direction with this one. However to note the Reader is the heir to her father’s company and the butler has been working for their family since they were both children (i.e they were friends when they were younger they would play with each other but then as they grew older they stared to have their respective responsibilities). If the monster could be a Minotaur that would be great. Thank you. (Also NSFW if possible)

Company policy

Minotaur x fem!reader || dry humping, heavy make out, dirty talk, (light) boob-worship || tw: specisim (like racism but monsters), (very light) classism

The fucking specism with monsters is so blatant in the company that, once you are high enough position, you start to want to make changes. You already knew it was bad when you were just a teen, but lately, being “taught” how to control the company next to your dad…

You hate it.

You hate how they treat their lower employees, most of them monsters… You are so sick of it, you want to make changes, starting with firing your dad for trying to steal money from the company without the board noticing. Too bad that he’s not smarter than you, or than any of the members for the matter.

You were already talking to some investors before all the scandal blew up, but now? The board would 100% side with you, already wanting to make some changes around the company and expecting you to be the first to take a step towards the future. New blood, younger blood, but most of all… not specisits as your father is.

You are just out of the boardroom when everyone tries to stop you to congratulate you on being the new CEO. They all want to say some words encouragement. But you are having none of it. Your father left happily, not a single care in the world after being offered a huge sum to remain silent and step down quietly.

You are happy that he accepted, but right now you couldn’t care less about him or any of the others. The only thing in your mind is the awful way you left things with the only one that mattered to you. That mattered truly. You were scared by your new responsibilities, and he was ready to take his father’s job as the family butler. It felt so wrong when you walked away from him, but you didn’t know better, you didn’t know what to do…

But now, now you do. And you need to face your past mistakes in hopes to make better choices next time. Smarter choices. Especially the ones relating the awesome minotaur you left behind when you least wanted to. So you walk to him, waiting at the door of your office like he always does, silently staring at you.

“I feel like we haven’t talked in ages,” you let out, trying to hide your own embarrassment at the obvious stupidity of the catch phrase.

You see each other every day, when he brings your packages up, when he opens the door, even when he helps you get stuff to your car. He’s always around, but you barely talk more than necessary. You just grew up to be the stuck up your father once was. But you are so tired of acting like that all the fucking time. You hate how it drove you away from one of the best things in your life. How it drove you away from him.

“Can we have coffee? Talk?” He stares at you for a beat, not saying anything but nodding once, following you to the little coffee corner you have on one of the empty offices on the top floor.

He doesn’t say anything about that either, but you know what he’s thinking. You signal for him to sit down and you prepare his coffee how he used to have it back in the day, setting the coffees on the table and sitting in front of him. The love-seats are ugly in the best way possible, comfortable and nice against your back.

“What is this about?” He asks, looking around, humming appreciatively when he takes a sip of his coffee. You don’t fist pump the air, but you are close to it.

“I want to make changes to the company. Monsters are as capable of any human, and it’s time they are hired and compensated accordingly,” you start, feeling self-conscious as he just stares at you. “And I want to hire you as my personal assistant,” you add.

He scoffs, asking a short: “Why?”

“Because you excelled all your classes in college, we might not be in the same major, but we shared a lot of classes and I noticed. And you deserve so much more than a butler job.” I let out in a rush, realizing a beat too late how bad that sounds. “Not that there’s nothing bad with being a butler. Shit, I sound classist now, do I?” You let out a degrading laugh, feeling like you are messing everything up.

He doesn’t comment on your awful words, but asks something else instead: “And what if I tell you I don’t want to be your assistant?” He’s staring intently, and you are glad he didn’t say no and walked away directly.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t force you. I will give you a rise in your butler job, though. But that’s not for you!” You rapidly explain. “Either you accept or not, the position is going to be better compensated.”

“Why?” He asks again, licking his licks after another sip of his coffee. Fuck, you miss that tongue.

“Because I want to be better. I want this company to be better,” you tell him, truthfully.

“And how are you going to convince your father of that?” He says with a huff of amusement, making you almost smile at him.

But then you opt for the truth: “I fired him,” and watch him sputter his coffee out as you let out the laugh that you were holding back.

“And why tell me all this?” He asks after a beat, his eyes filled with emotions you don’t know how to name.

“Because…” You take a deep breath. “Because I wanted you to know.” He arcs an eyebrow, crooking his head to the side and almost knocking the hanging art on the wall down. “Because you are still important to me, okay? My feelings didn’t disappear when we broke up. I was just scared and, and…”

He stands up, stepping over the table as if it wasn’t even there (his legs are that long), and kneeling in front of you. “Are you scared now?”

“Not anymore,” you whisper, hopeful.

That’s all it takes for him to lean forward and claim your mouth in a kiss that feels possessive. Like he’s claiming you with his mouth, and good goddess if it doesn’t feel good to be claimed. You give him as much as he gives you, kissing him the way you want to own him. And he moans, making you feel like floating on a cloud.

You grab onto his horns as he deepens the kiss, hugging your middle and pulling you forward until he’s sitting on the floor with you on his lap. You feel frantic, rubbing your body against his like a cat seeking for attention. He trails a series of kisses down your neck, licking your throat with his too big tongue and sending sparks of arousal down your spine until your panties are so wet you are worried there’s a spot of juices on your crotch.

“Mmmm I missed you sweet you smelled when you are all wet for me,” he whispers against your collarbone, making you hornier.

He pushes your hips down, grinding up at the same time and short-circuiting your brain as you let out a very undignified moan. He huffs a laugh and does it again. And again. And again. And before you realize you are helping him, rubbing your clothed pussy against the front of his pants.

You can’t look down as you guide his head with his horns as handles towards your shirt. He opens the buttons, pulling down your bra until he’s nipping and licking your nipples and you are an absolute mess. You grind against his erection, rubbing yourself shamelessly as you moan his name and he worships your boobs.

And you come. Just like that. You let out a cry that sounds like his name and you feel a gush of juices wetting your panties and pants as you come very messily on his lap.

“Did you just come in my lap, little morsel?” He asks, the smug tone making you look down in embarrassment. “Don’t hide from me, you know I like when you are extra needy for me,” he says, pushing your face up with a finger in your chin. You nod shyly. “Now, now. I hope your chair is a bit more comfortable than the floor, because I seem to remember you need to ride a bull-cock to be fully satisfied…” He rubs his still hard dick up, and you shiver, nodding with your face as red as a tomato. He gets up with you on his arms, kissing your neck and whispering: “I’m not going to be your assistant, but I’ll claim the position as your boyfriend.” You laugh, grabbing his horns again and kissing him until he’s pressing you against the closed door of your office.

Firing your father is the best decision you ever taken… Well, after fucking your minotaur boyfriend on your office.

[nyoomerr]

Luo Binghe Shimeji (Extended Version!)

a couple years ago, riladoo created an adorable binghe shime! he could be picked up and tossed around your computer screens, climb around on all your windows, multiply, and all the other cute things that come in the standard base shimeji set.

more recently, i reached out to riladoo with a commission request - more action sets for binghe! over the past couple months, riladoo has worked hard to make some adorable binghe art, and i've updated all the source code and config files to accommodate the new actions! 🎉

the extended action set includes: - a 'sit and eat' idle action - two 'head patting' actions when the mouse hovers over him - a 'fall and cry' action for when he falls from tall heights - a 'land nicely' action for when you place him down gently

the original binghe shime listing on riladoo's gumroad has been updated to have all these new actions, so go grab him now!! he's free / pay what you want! 🥰

i've put more details about the new action sets + general shimeji setup tips below the cut, but otherwise -- LET THE BINGHE COMPUTER INFECTION COMMENCE !!

**these extended actions only work on windows, not mac. sorry ;w; the original shime set has a mac version, though!

Extended Action Set Details

when you download the files from riladoo, you're looking for the .zip file labeled "Updated Shime code" !

sit and eat this is an idle action that will trigger randomly the same as any other idle action. if you want to trigger it manually, you can right click the shime -> 'set behavior' -> 'sit and eat'

head pats these are 'stay' actions that will trigger automatically when you hover your mouse over the shime. i recommend hovering your mouse over his head for maximum head-pat-effectiveness! unfortunately, this action won't play if the shime is actively climbing a wall/ceiling - maybe in the future this can be extended further, but for now there are only head patting actions for sitting and standing poses :>

falling variations (crying / default / land nicely) there are now a total of 3 'falling' actions. to see the 'fall and cry' action, allow binghe to fall from the top half of your monitor. to see the standard/original 'fall and trip' action, allow binghe to fall from the low-mid range portion of your monitor. to see the 'land nicely' action, gently place binghe down at the bottom of your monitor. this means you're rewarded for catching binghe when he falls off a window - if you catch him and set him down, he lands nicely, but if you let him fall normally, he'll start crying!! 🥰

Shimeji Installation Tips

if you've never had a shimeji before - don't worry, they're super easy to install! i recommend following this video tutorial created by the person who originally created the source code for shimeji. you can skip the parts about downloading the shimeji itself - you'll get that from riladoo's website :>

if you install everything but opening the shimeji executable does nothing, download jarfix to resolve this issue.

if you follow the tutorial and update the 'interactive windows' but the shime still doesn't stand/climb on the specified windows, restart your computer to resolve this issue. alternatively, make sure you don't have any 'unexpected' monitors plugged in - a friend of mine had their shime constantly falling down through their monitor onto their screen drawpad, which was confusing until it got figured out!

if you are on mac instead of windows.... i am so sorry i actually have no idea how to help 🙇‍♂️ the original/default binghe shimeji set DOES have a mac os folder in with the downloads, but i've never tested it (don't use mac), and even if it works, it won't include the extended actions (i didn't build an executable for mac with the new code).

More Questions???

feel free to hit me up! in the replies of this post / through DMs / send an ask - whatever is best for you. i'll tag any asks i get about the shime with #binghe shime chronicles so they get archived nicely. i got very familiar with all the source code / config files to get this lil guy set up with his extended actions, so hopefully i can answer any questions you have! 💪😤

that's all!! i am so happy w how the new actions turned out - the art riladoo did for them is SO cute! - and i hope y'all will be, too!

[lockes-woods]

Kinktober '24 Day 11

Request: Would love to see some Fatgum x reader breeding kink shenanigans? Fatgum’s defensive abilities would make for a great quirk marriage scenario

Requested by: CherryDad (AO3)

WARNINGS: PIV, Oral (f! Receiving), cream pie, size difference, breeding kink

A/N: This is gonna be another morning edit for sure.

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You sighed to yourself as you sat perched on the edge of your couch. You could feel your anxiety manifest in your gut, as you waited for your ‘husband’ to come home from patrol. It had been just over a year since the hero commission announced their new program of forming a new hero bond for the future from preexisting ‘relations’. In so many words the hero commission was revitalizing the archaic practice of quirk marriages. Last year every hero from the top 100 heroes was sent a list of approved ‘partners’ for them to choose from. You were one of the lucky ones in that fact that you actually knew, well had known, your top approved mate.

You have a fat-based quirk, you are able to manipulate and create on a cellular level of all living things. When healing you do not only rely on the energy, and body fat, of the person you are healing, but also tap into your own energy to aid others. Based on the nature of your quirk, your top match was Fatgum, or Taishiro Toyomitsu.

 You have known Taishiro since your time at UA. He was two years ahead of you, but because of the caloric nature of your quirks, you were on a strict high caloric intake. You often crossed paths when working on meal alternatives with the support lab. He had mentored you in a way, you weren’t sure if he even remembered the conversation, but he helped you feel less self-conscious about your body size. Because of the nature of your quirk, you were almost always sitting at a weight deemed ‘unhealthy’. The label of unhealthy, stuck with you so badly while you were still a teenager, that you stopped the overeating necessary to be able to use your quirk effectively. You began to work yourself to the literal bone, often passing out, just to maintain a ‘healthy’ image. When Taishiro caught wind of this, he pulled you aside and encouraged you to do everything in your power to aid the most amount of people, even if it meant being shamed by the media for encouraging an ‘unhealthy’ standards for young people. You don’t think even if he remembered the conversation he ever realized the impact that one talk had on you. Or how his kindness led to you having a not-so-small crush on him that carried onto adulthood.

You had lost touch with him after he set up his hero agency in Esuha City. While you were still on good terms and were friendly with each other you had drifted apart as people often do while growing up. You were never nailed down by any agency. You worked as an independent contractor that agencies could lease. Your nickname as the ‘One Women Hospital’ proceeded you: making you a fought-over strength to any agency. Your normal clientele were heroes in the top 10. You loved your life and independence, that was until the hero commission brought your normalcy to a halt with their sudden decision to bring back and enforce quirk marriages.

You would never feel as relieved as you were when Taishiro accepted your request of marriage. It was a huge relief off your chest of the fear of being randomly assigned to not only marry a stranger but also carry the minimum of one of their children. That’s what led you here to tonight, pacing in Tai’s home, waiting impatiently for him to get off of work. You had been married a little more than a month at this point but hadn’t consummated the marriage. Fuck, you hadn’t even kissed outside of your wedding. Coitus was only mandatory while you were ovulating like you were today.

You couldn’t help but feel uneasy. You both had been working your normal hours since the wedding, there was a silent agreement that you wouldn’t worry about the act itself until you had to. You had already pushed down your schoolgirl crush on Tai. He was one of the most genuine people you had met, and kind to a fault. Outside of his personality, he was so handsome to you in either of his forms. You hope if you were to have kids they’d inherit his lovely golden eyes and bright smile. Despite those nice images your nerves still stood strong. How would you even go about being intimate, but still remain on the same terms? That’s of course only if he wanted to have sex; technically he just had to cum inside of you. Would he want that?  Just as you felt yourself bordering on a spiral you heard him entering the house.

“Hey,” he greeted with his normal chipper smile. He was in his skinny form, which while smaller than his fat form of 8’2”, was still huge. He easily towered over you standing at a minimum of 7 ft.

“Hey,” you greeted back shyly. You were in your normal lounge clothing of an oversized t-shirt paired with a well-loved pair of cotton sleep shorts and fluffy socks. You had debated dressing up special for tonight, but you didn’t want to make this any weirder than the situation already was.

“How was work?” you asked,

“Good, it was a slower day, there was only one incident of bank robbing, so I mostly just worked on paperwork.” He answered smiling down at you, “How was your day off?”

“Good, I ate at my favorite café and read for a but before going to the doctor’s.” you answered.

“How was your appointment?” he asked.

“Good, they did a blood and urine test. I’m definitely ovulating today.” You responded.

“Alright,” Taishiro nodded, “When did you want to…” he started before trailing off, both of you walking on eggshells as you attempted to not offend or make the other uncomfortable.

“I guess sooner than later,” you answered, in a noncommittal tone, “I guess we should talk about how you want to go about this. Are you okay with sex, or do you just want to cum in me-”

You stood in shock as he pulled you in for a surprisingly soft kiss. You gasp, your eyes widening, before easing shut. It felt like your brain shut off as Tai pressed you firmly against the counter and he deepened the kiss. You let him dominate the kiss, a whine escaping you as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, panting lightly, “I couldn’t hold out any longer.” He confessed. Before he could explain any further you fisted the front of his jacket and pulled him in for an equally demanding kiss. He let out a surprised groan, melting into the kiss as he pulled you close, holding you in his arms.

“Fuck,” he groaned as you pulled back, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He admitted bashfully. You hummed in response.

“It has been a long month,” you agreed.

“No, baby, I’m talking years,” he elaborated, blush staining his cheeks.

“Oh,” you said dumb found, “I didn’t-, I always thought that-, that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“Baby, I’ve been holding a torch for you since we met. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured when I was your senpai.” He admitted, “And then after I graduated, my biggest regret was not telling you how I felt.” He took a breath before saying, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same-”

“How could I not feel the same way.” You cut him off with a smile, “You were my senpai, you were one of the first people to make me feel of value despite the number on the scale.”

“Fuck, you have no idea how relieved I was when I found out my top match was you,” he confessed, looking down at you fondly.

 “I know we have to talk about this more, but the doctor gave us an hour window, and it’s starting soon.”

“Okay,” he nodded, there was nothing you or anyone else could do to wipe the smile off his face.

“Are you okay with us having sex?” you question.

“Baby, I’ll take whatever you give me,” he answered honestly.

“O-Okay,” you nodded your nerves returning, “Do you want to-, Or should we-, um is the bedroom okay?” you fought to get out.

“The bedroom sounds perfect love,” he replied, before scooping you up in his arms. You let out an “Eep,” as he walked up to his bedroom and softly laid you in the center of it.

“Do you have any hard stops?” he asked, tugging not only his sweatshirt over his head, but his shirt as well. You unconsciously bit your lip, taking in his toned form.

“Baby,” he said, pulling your attention back away from his body.

“Hmm?” You replied.

“I was asking if you had any hard stops,” he repeated, amused.

“Any body fluids outside of cum and spit,” You answered, “I also don’t feel comfortable with consensual non-consensual.”

“Okay,” he nodded, working at his belt.

“You?” you asked.

“The same,” he nodded, “My safe word is takoyaki. Yours?”

“Code,” you answered eyes locked in on his jeans sliding down revealing the large hard-on pressing against the front of his underwear, your eyes widened as he eased himself out of his boxer briefs. You knew objectively he was going to be big, but you didn’t realize how proportional he would be. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together needily as he began to crawl up his bed towards you.

“Aw, are you feeling needy baby?” he asked teasingly. All you could do was let out a whine as he began helping you out of your shorts, “Can’t have my wife go unsatisfied.”

You could feel your heart rate go up at him casually call you, his wife. Normally you may find it a bit cringy, but his genuine tone made you feel butterflies. He helped you out of your shirt next, leaving you bare. He pulled you into a soft kiss, before slowly making his way down your body. He pulls a whine from your throat as he nips and sucks at your nipples. He takes his time, only making you more desperate.

“Fuck, Tai, please,” you plead with him

“Please, what love?” he asked, looking up at you with a smirk, making your stomach flip. You’d never seen his face without his sweet smile.

“Please, I need you,” you beg, “Need you so bad.”

“Oh, and where do you want me baby?” he asked, teasingly.

 “Lower, please” you beg, getting more and more desperate.

“Down here?” he asked, stroking your inner thigh.

“Fuck, yes.” You said tears of frustration gathering in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help but moan as he separated your lower lips. A whine escaped you from the contrast of the cool air in the room and Taishiro’s hot breath against your clit. He didn’t give you any warning before he dove in. You were left a moaning mess, as his fingers stretched you to your limit, while he sucked on your clit. You threaded your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair, tugging on it hard and harder the closer you got. You let out a guttural moan tugging hard on his hair so that he was flush with your pussy. He narrowly avoided getting crushed by your thighs as he angled his shoulders to keep your thighs open. He fingered you through your orgasm, whispering prairies against your skin. Your grip loosened as you fell back onto the bed limp as you came down from your height.

“Ready, love?” he asked, wiping the excess of your release off his face with the back of his hand.

“Please,” you answer, still feeling desperate, despite just coming down from your high.

“Okay,” he said, grasping his cock to give it two hard strokes before sliding it up and down your slit to collect your excess release, before thrusting his tip inside, Taishiro hissed at his first time breaching your walls, He slowly rocks you back and forth thrusting a bit more of himself each time as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a second before you whined craving more stimulation.

“Just, can’t get enough can you love?” he teased, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, knocking the wind out of you. You share a moan as he begins to pick up speed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Can’t wait to see you if it takes. Fuck you’re gonna be all round and plush when it comes.” You both moaned shamelessly.

“Fuck, need it Tai, fuck, need it so bad,” you blathered seconds before clenching around him in a throat. “Wanna be full, please,” you pleaded desperately. “Want it, want it so bad, please fuck. I wanna have your kids.”  

“Fuck,” Taishiro groaned, His hips stuttering as he came in you. You both shared a moan, staying still for a moment before your little bubble of peace is ruined by the sound of a phone ringing. You ignore it for a moment before rolling over and seeing a slew of messages from different agencies. He pulled you tight back against his chest.

“You’re not leaving until we know it takes.” He said staring down at you; dead serious. You couldn’t help but gasp as she felt his cock once again stir against your back. He pulled you in for a loving kiss, as he eased your phone out of your hands. He quickly clicked on airplane mode, before tossing your phone aside. You let out a pleasant sigh, as your lips once again found each other and he pulled you back so you were straddling his abs once again; ready for the next round.

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MASTERLIST

A/N: K, officially broke the streak. Hoping to have this edited in the morning along with a TA! Shikamaru x Student! Reader one shot.

[umbrace-rambles]

TBHX Top 10 Character Info

Actually let me just do a text version of the whole thing so I can easily edit it w more info in the future <3

As of Year 41 after Commission (Lin Ling's arc)

01. X

Real Name: ???

Age: ???

Birthdate: 6th of June (???)

Sign: Gemini

Height: 190cm [6'3"]

Weight: 75kg [165 lbs]

Blood Type: 0

Agency: None

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Gathering information, sweets (strawberry milk, carbonated drinks), piano, magic

Abilities: ???

02. QUEEN

Real Name: Liu Yuwei

Age: 27

Birthdate: 18th of October (14AC)

Sign: Libra

Height: 180cm [5'11"]

Weight: 62,5kg [137 lbs]

Blood Type: 0

Agency: DOS

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Heavy metal, horse riding.

Abilities: Can set any rules of her control within a boundary, everything inside of this boundary has to obey her.

03. DRAGON BOY

Real Name: ???

Age: 23

Birthdate: 14th of February (18AC)

Sign: Aquarius

Height: 178cm [5'10"]

Weight: 69kg [152 lbs]

Blood Type: B

Agency: Mighty Glory

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Classical music, local volunteer activities.

Abilities: ???

04. GHOSTBLADE

Real Name: ???

Age: 41

Birthdate: 28th of August (0AC)

Sign: Virgo

Height: 180cm [5'11"]

Weight: 76kg [167 lbs]

Blood Type: AB

Agency: Mighty Glory

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Assassination, cooking, general housework.

Abilities: ???

05. THE JOHNNIES (Little Johnny)

Real Name: ???

Age: 28

Birthdate: 8th of August (13AC)

Sign: Leo

Height: 170cm [5'7"]

Weight: 60kg [132 lbs]

Blood Type: B

Agency: DOS

Hobbies, interests and special skills: The internet, latest technology, asset management (which he has repeatedly failed at)

Abilities: ???

06. LOLI

Real Name: ???

Age: 18

Birthdate: 1st of December (23AC)

Sign: Sagittarius

Height: 160cm [5'3"]

Weight: 45kg [99 lbs]

Blood Type: 0

Agency: FOMO

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Mechanical engineering, work, long distance running

Abilities: ???

07. LUCKY CYAN

Real Name: Renamed Cyan. Original unknown.

Age: 21

Birthdate: 24th of March (20AC)

Sign: Aries

Height: 166cm [5'5"]

Weight: 53kg [116 lbs]

Blood Type: B

Agency: DOS

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Singing, playing instruments (especially guitar)

Abilities: Has absolute luck and can transfer it to others.

08. AHU

Real Name: ??? (assuming same name)

Age: 13

Birthdate: 4th of April (28AC)

Sign: Taurus

Height: 30cm [12"]

Weight: 10kg [22 lbs]

Blood Type: -

Agency: FOMO

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Sunbathing, patrolling, cat food evaluation

Abilities: ???

09. E-SOUL

Real Name: Yang Cheng

Age: 27

Birthdate: 11th of November (14AC)

Sign: Scorpio

Height: 185cm [6'1"]

Weight: 80kg [176 lbs]

Blood Type: A

Agency: Mighty Glory

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Bicycling, stage performance

Abilities: Various skills such as super speed and the ability to release electricity, condense it and fire it like a bullet. Can inject it into objects

10. THE COMMONER

Real Name: Lin Ling

Age: 21

Birthdate: 22nd of May (20AC)

Sign: Gemini

Height: 180cm [5'11"]

Weight: 75kg [165 lbs]

Blood Type: A

Agency: Treeman

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Creating PPT presentations and planning ideas

Abilities: Can punch real good

--. NICE

Real Name: ???

Age: 25

Birthdate: 11th of July (16AC)

Sign: Cancer

Height: 180cm [5'11"]

Weight: 75kg [165 lbs]

Blood Type: 0

Agency: Treeman

Hobbies, interests and special skills: Real state and stock investments, redevelopment projects

Abilities: Has all the abilities people believe a "perfect hero" should have

[pfatter-university]

When their second semester starts, Pfatter freshmen who've failed to show any growth get assigned to hook up to the Thickening Machine. These five skinny guys are about to catch up to their bigger classmates!

Their transformation videos will be posted on Pfatter University’s brand new Patreon page! Grady, the first victim, is already posted! Become a member to see extra photos from all future Tumblr posts, exclusive Patreon-only pics, live versions of your favorite Pfatter students, and the ever-popular transformation videos. Top tier patrons even get their own video commissions!

Can’t wait for you to enroll! 🐷

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

MOST WANTED II (Sukuna x Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

“You’re mine tonight. And if you value your job and your life, you’d better do everything I say.”

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK CONTAINS R*PE & NONCON SEXUAL ACTS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS.***

READ PART I HERE!

*********

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Self-Insert!Reader

Synopsis: After your failed mission with Toji that ended in humiliation—and unwanted hot dreams—, you beg her boss to put you on the next one to bag Sukuna Ryomen, a famous criminal boss and gangster who is wanted for many murders and trafficking jewels. After you’re refused, you go undercover as an escort at a masquerade party to get Sukuna alone and take him in…whether dead or alive. Agreeing to go back with him to his hotel after drinks, flirting and a game of pool, you attempt to complete the mission, but not before Sukuna uncovers your secret and punishes you for lying to him. He’ll show you that nobody fucks with him. And that maybe you’re not as strong or tough as you think you are. Maybe, just maybe…you enjoy being a gangster’s plaything.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Self-Insert!Reader; Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized; Flirting; Sexual Tension; Eye-Fucking; Escort!Reader; Agent!Reader; Action/Fighting; Noncon/R*pe; Dubcon; Handcuffs; Knife Play; Dirty Talk; Mask Kink; Daddy Kink; Degradation; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Facefucking; Choking; Slutification; Objectication; Mean Dom!Sukuna + sub!Reader; Doggystyle; Condescending Sweet Talk; Reader Cums 2x; Facial/Cum on Tits; No Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Got another one for y’all & for my fave @curiouscutie143!! We plan on expanding my “Most Wanted” world, probably even to other characters in the future! I had so much fun writing this AND it’s my first ever Sukuna fic! I hope y’all enjoy reading about that mean ol’ nasty man lol. Kisses! 💋-Jazz

*********

You stand in your bathroom mirror, staring at the woman staring back at you who looks like she could use a drink, a good orgasm, and some sleep.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you ask the woman. She moves her mouth with yours as you speak in the empty bathroom with its tiled walls and hardwood floor. A folder holding your next target sits next to you, a label reading “CLASSIFIED” stamped across the front.

The sound of Friday night in the city—cars honking, someone blasting music from the apartment across from yours—fills the space of your studio apartment. Usually, you would use tonight to order a pizza, watch a movie, or go to the bar across the street to pick up a guy for the night. But tonight, you stand in the mirror in your night slip, hair and makeup already on, getting ready for a party. Not just any party. A masquerade ball. One that is crawling with all kinds of elite figures, celebrities, politicians, business owners…and gangsters.

One of which you have your eye on. You grab the file sitting next to your sink that is littered in traces of makeup, your curling iron sitting unplugged right next to it. You open it with trembling fingers, making it hard to turn the pages. Your anxiety is already taking over. “Stop it,” you mutter to yourself as you finally making it to your target’s photo. You snagged his file a week ago in n secrecy. You had flirted mad hard with one of the file clerks—geeky, unattractive, and painfully awkward—and gave him a hard-on in order to sneak by and get into the file room. It is imperative that your agency have such a room to keep track of your old and new targets.

Ryomen Sukuna is one of the new ones and at the top of your boss’ list in terms of most wanted people. Big in the crime world and well-known for being a “professional killer”, Sukuna is feared in his area of business….which is anything that has to do with crime. Most of his business is underground and unknown to the public, but your agency has been keeping tabs on him for months now ever since other high-demand crime bosses and crooked officials in the city started coming up dead.

According to your team’s findings, Sukuna’s operation stretches across Japan and overseas in New York and London. His men, who are just as devious and dangerous as him, usually do all of his dirty work, including smuggling items and taking out those who threaten Sukuna’s businesses.

But Sukuna isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty either.

He delves into the areas of illegal drug-smuggling, gun trafficking, imported, exotic seafood, and, mostly recently, jewel smuggling. It seems that Sukuna is a man of history. When a recent thousand-year-old diamond went missing a month ago from a history museum in Tokyo, your boss already had a feeling that Sukuna was behind it. But when a crime boss known for his jewel smuggling wound up dead just a week ago, he knew that Sukuna was most definitely the culprit. The man is like a piranha in the crime world, taking out every other being he deems as weak or a threat to his survival.

But you knew you could get him, especially when you found out that he would be in your city for a masquerade ball to celebrate the presentation of a new line of art worth millions. You knew he was planning something. Possibly even a massacre of potential buyers.

”Let me get him,” you begged your boss. You stood in his office a week ago once the news of Sukuna broke, your hands on your boss’ desk. “I can do this, sir, I promise. I can take care of this for you with my kind of skill.”

Your boss sat behind his desk, looking haggard and exhausted from running such a lucrative company. “V, I already have two agents working on this case.”

“Who?” You asked, but it must’ve came out harsher than you intended because your boss looked at you in alarm. “I won’t disclose that information only because I don’t want you to have any negative feelings towards them as your partners.” You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was stare down at your hands that laid flat on the wooden surface of the desk. “Boss, I can do it,” you said, your voice soft and shaky. You hated sounding so weak.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can do it, V,” he said, his voice gentle but affirmative like a father. “I’m only looking out for your safety and best interest.”

“My best interest,” you scoffed, unable to swallow back your pride or bitterness. “You and I both know that this is about what happened with Toji. You think I can’t handle this just like I couldn’t handle him.”

Your boss looks away from you, staring at his much-needed cup of coffee instead. You feel all of the air rush out of your lungs as he confirms it without confirming it.

It has been five months since your ordeal with Toji Fushigiro. You haven’t caught wind of him since he left you in that strip club, covered in his cum and completely humiliated. The walk of shame back to your apartment after receiving medical attention and a week of paid absence was even worse.

You did nothing but stew in your apartment, filled with bitterness, humiliation, and revenge. You often had dreams of the crime boss, your plump body squeezed between his big arms and his muscular body on top of yours as he drove his cock into you. You would awaken in the night, sweating and your panties soaked in arousal from the flashes of that night.

Toji had ruined you, but he didn’t break you entirely. You knew that you could put the pieces back together and redeem yourself if you got on another mission, which is where Sukuna came in. If you could just convince your boss to put you on this case, you could show him, yourself, and everyone that you were stronger than the likes of Toji.

“Please, sir,” you begged. “What happened with Fushiguro will never happen again. I know what I’m doing. Have I ever failed you before?”

Your boss turned back to face you, his expression apologetic but firm. “V, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” he explains. “You’re the most overqualified agent and hit woman we have here…but what happened with Fushiguro was serious. Your health and safety was seriously threatened.” He pauses, biting his tongue. “What is it?” you pushed, your heart hammering in your chest.

He ran a hand through his graying hair, sighing to himself. “We also found out that Ryomen is a close contact to Fushiguro,” he added. “They had been in business with each other before and worked with the same clients.” He took a sip of his coffee as if to calm himself. “You’re too close to the case, V. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay out of this one and wait until we get another case to put you on.”

That was the end of it. There was no convincing him. You walked out of there with tears in your eyes and feeling exposed to the whole department as the hit woman who became a slut for a crime boss. When you got home that night, you downed a bottle of wine and told yourself that you wouldn’t let this happen. No more self-deprecating or feeling sorry for yourself. No more thinking of Toji, his dirty words, and his big, beautiful cock.

You wouldn’t allow this type of disrespect for ANYONE. So if you were going to redeem yourself, you would do it without your boss’ approval. This is for you now and you alone.

So here you are now, about to go against your boss’ wishes and the rules of your profession by inserting yourself in a case that has nothing to do with you. But you were prepared. You would find Sukuna, seduce him, and turn him into the authorities at means necessary…even if that means making him bleed.

You turn away from the mirror and look down at your vanity stool where your outfit for tonight’s event is laid out nicely for you—a strapless red dress with a slit in the thigh, a diamond set, and red bottom heels. Most importantly, a mask encrusted in diamonds sits waiting for you to put it on.

You pick up the mask and hold it in your hands, feeling the ridges of the diamonds against your fingertip. “Okay,” you say to yourself, feeling adrenaline fill your veins. “Let’s do this.”

**********

When you arrive at the ball, it is in full swing and brimming with luxury, excitement and the energy of the nightlife crowd.

The party is located downtown in a high-end, five star hotel ballroom. It is shockingly easy for you to get in, but then again, as a renowned hit woman, you know exactly how to blend in. All you had to do was slink by while the security guard posted in front of the hotel was busy with another masquerading couple.

As soon as you walk in, you are bombarded by the sound of a live band playing classical music and the aura of luxury. It is all around you—on the snack table where a crystal bowl of punch and champagne flutes sit; in the tasteful decorations of feathers, streamers, and entertainment blowing fire, making the crowd gasp; in the conversations and laughs of the guests decked out in their best designer and masks.

There are so many masks of all colors and kinds, making you blend in perfectly with the crowd. You keep your silver clutch close to your side, your little Glock hidden beneath your lipstick tube switchblade…and your lipstick. You can’t ever leave the house without your MAC.

You begin to look around the room, Sukuna’s face in your mind’s eye. You studied his appearance for days before coming here. Though you have no idea what he’ll be wearing tonight, you know that once you see him, you’ll know that it’s him.

“Drink, ma’am?” a voice suddenly asks. You jump slightly and turn around, finding a smiling waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes. “Oh, yes,” you reply. “Thank you.” You give him a red-lipped smile and take one before he walks away to serve someone else. You might as well drink and try not to act so tense. Any kind of slip and your act will be exposed. You already know Sukuna’s men are slinking around here too.

You decide to walk over to one of the snack tables where a couple stands with their own snack tables, both matching in their rich, violet clothes. You give them a nod as you take a plate, lower your glass on the table, and randomly gather some cheese cubes onto your plate.

Beside you, the male in his gold mask and long, wavy hair, leans in towards his partner. “He’s in here somewhere,” he murmurs. “Keep your eyes peeled.” Immediately, you know exactly who he is. A C.O.D.E. agent. You sneakily eye him and his partner who glares at him behind her leopard-printed mask that somehow meshes with her violet gown. “And keep your mouth shut,” she hisses. “This place is crawlin’ with his men.”

You plop some veggies onto your plate and dribble on some ranch dressing, still listening. “Sorry,” the male mutters. “It’s my first mission, okay? I only got transferred to Japan just a month ago!”

The woman rolls her eyes and drops his arm from hers. “Stay here,” she sighs before she struts off in her heels. Her partner watches her go and you can feel his irritation radiating off of her. “Bitch,” he mutters before he presses down onto his left ear, obviously calling someone. Probably your boss to tell him that he hates his partner and wants to abort the mission. You nearly laugh and have to bite your lip to keep from giggling.

These are the agents your boss sent out tonight to get Sukuna? Them?! This guy was just transferred a month ago from wherever-the-fuck and he’s already messing up! Even on your first mission, you knew to always keep your guard up and act the part, wherever, however.

The male walks away to a nearby table, talking as he does to your boss or someone else at headquarters. You scoff to yourself, actually offended. How could your boss send someone like this ameture on a mission? But you’d show him. You nibble on a broccoli stalk and some cheese as you begin to scan the room, nodding at anyone who passes. Your eyes pass the stage to the far left where the exit into the hotel lobby is.

There, you see him. He is chatting with two men in suits and their own masks, a glass of champagne in his big hand. Each thick finger is inked and adorned in silver rings that wink at you under the bright lights. He is big and tall—about 6’6 at least. His big frame fills out his black suit and tie outfit which is rather plain for such a gaudy party.

But the blackness of his suit makes the pink of his hair, fluffy-looking yet spiked, and his red mask pop. At first glance, his mask reminds you almost of the Devil. It’s a fitting look for him, you suppose. He isn’t flashy, but he still looks rich. Like he has no problem making such a statement with his outfit and red-bottom shoes.

But you doubt that anyone would have anything to say to Sukuna Ryomen about anything he wears.

He tugs on his right ear where several small hoops, including a cartilage piercing, hang. From where you stand, you can see that his neck is roped in tattoos as well. He says something to the men and gives them a smirk before turning and walking through the exit.

You wait until the men depart and drain your champagne before tossing your snacks away. The hunt is on now. Keeping an eye on your fellow agents, you strut across the room to the exit, paying no attention to the gents who have their eyes on your bouncing chest, thighs, and ass. You finally make it to the hotel lobby and quickly scan the area, looking for Sukuna’s broad shoulders and long legs. You immediately find him at the entrance of a bar on the right hand side chatting with a doe-eyed waitress who immediately giggles and guides him into the bar.

You follow, the click of your heels against the marbled floor egging you on. The swanky, dimly-lit bar is damn near packed when you walk in. Most of its patrons are from the ball with the exception of businessmen at happy hour and women in their finest looking to score a rich man for the night. You spot Sukuna sitting at the end of the bar and passing the bartender a twenty-dollar bill for his shot (and bottle) of whiskey. About three stools down is a plump, balding man in a wolf mask and an Armani suit, his face flushed from too much to drink.

Immediately, you get an idea. Smirking to yourself, you strut over to the bar, brazenly staring at both the wolf and Sukuna who both have their eyes on you. You sit down beside the balding wolf, giving him a small smile in greeting. You place your clutch on the bar where you wave your manicured nails at the bartender. “One martini with five olives, please,” you order. The bartender nods and begins to ready your drink.

The wolf, on his fourth or fifth Bourbon, sloppily smirks beside you. Perhaps he thinks it makes him look sexy. “Five olives?” He chuckles. “You storin’ for the winter, Ms. Red?” His eyes graze down your body from behind the eye holes in his mask.

“Just for this party,” you joke. “Why? Do you suggest somethin’ more delicious than olives, Mr. Wolf?” You put a sultry, seductive lilt into your voice, leaning your chin into your hand. You hope Mr. Wolf catches on…which of course, he does.

“If you’re interested in what’s at the snake table, sure,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. He suddenly digs into his pocket, fishing out a twenty. “Here. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t buy her own drink.”

“I appreciate that,” you giggle, taking the money from him just as the bartender returns with your drink. “How can I repay you for such a kind act?” You lean forward and press your tits enticingly against the bar to which Mr. Wolf shamelessly stares at. You think you hear Sukuna scoff behind you, making your neck feel hot. But you don’t dare turn around. Not yet.

Mr. Wolf opens his mouth to say something either dumb or lecherous, but a slender blonde in a cat mask and a skin-tight dress struts up to him. “There you are!” she scoffs, rather loud. “I’ve been calling you nonstop! You dragged me to this damn party and then you just left me alone to come drink some more?”

She is so loud that it drowns out the jazz music playing overhead, catching the eye of the others in the bar. Mr. Wolf lowers his Bourbon, sighing to himself. “Karen, please don’t start,” he mutters, seething with rage. “You begged me to take you here.”

The woman—Karen—ignores him and turns to you. “And who is this?” She demands, scowling at Mr. Wolf. “Another one of your ‘business partners’?” The sound of shocked laughs and whispers drift in the tense, musky air. Mr. Wolf looks at you apologetically as he slides off of his stool, nearly falling. “Sorry,” he whispers. You give him a smile as he walks off with his nagging…girlfriend? Wife? Sugar baby? As if hearing your thoughts, Sukuna answers them for you. “I could’ve told ya he was married,” he chuckles. His laugh is smooth and rich yet deep and lethal, like a shot of whiskey.

You turn to him, raising a brow at him as you sip your martini. “How do you know?” you question. “He didn’t have a ring on his finger.”

Sukuna chortles again as if you’re some dumb little girl he needs to school. “Don’t have to. Rings can come off, ‘specially at events like these.” He takes a sip from his shot glass, eyeing you across the rim. “There’s plenty of pretty women like yourself swimmin’ around here for the pickin’.”

His gaze is hot like fire licking across your exposed skin. The air that Mr. Wolf and his wife left tense becomes even more so. But you straighten your neck and regard him with a smirk. “Like me?” you scoff. “I doubt he could’ve even been able to afford me.”

You take another sip of your martini, leaving a red stain on the rim, before fishing out the toothpick rowed with olives. You pluck one off with your teeth, knowing that Sukuna is watching. ‘Just keep up the act. Hook, line, and sinker.’

“Sooo you’re one of those city girls, huh?” You turn to him, silently asking him to elaborate. “The kind who chase the bag and never look back at the broken hearts they leave behind?” His smirk is playful. Almost sneaky.

“Close,” you reply. You place your toothpick back in the glass and lean in to give him a shot of your cleavage. “Merchandise,” you vaguely explain, accentuating each syllable with your plump, red lips.

Sukuna carefully watches as if attempting to pick your features apart behind your mask. He leans back on his stool, smirking. “So I was right: this is a ‘pay for the night’ situation. I had a hunch.”

“Oh, you did?” you scoff. “You a cop?” He nearly snorts into his glass. “Not even close, mama,” he chuckles. You cock your head to the side, acting curious. “Then what do you do? You already have my occupation, so what kinda work got you here?”

“I thought we were talkin’ ‘bout you,” he smoothly remarks, eyeing you down. “That’s some dress you got on.” You give him a look, standing your ground. Finally, he gives in defeatedly. I’m a…man of all types of businesses. I’m kind of an arts conasor, I guess you could say. I’m big in tradin’, auctions, collectin’…” Trafficking. Criminal activity. Killing. “Cool,” you reply, nodding. “Oh, I’m V, by the way. Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

Sukuna chuckles, his crimson red alight with mischief. “Well, I know you’re fine,” he jokes. “Little spitfire, ain’t ya?” You can tell he likes your wittiness. Most men like him do. “Apologies, V. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He puts his big, ringed hand out for a shake. You take it, ignoring the zing of electricity that shoots up your arm as his fingers clasp yours. “Sukuna,” he says, his voice suddenly deeper than before. Quickly, you take your hand away and place it in your lap. If he notices, he doesn’t act like it, instead lighting himself a cigar. “Mind if I smoke?” he asks, regarding you with those blood-red eyes. You shake your head. “Not at all. So what brings you to this riveous party, Sukuna?”

Your target wraps his lip, pierced lips around the cigar, inhaling before exhaling the smoke. “Business. Money. Potential clients and partnerships. I ain’t much of a party person as I’m sure you can tell.” He gives you a smirk. “I’m guessin’ you’re here for business too?” You chuckle, liking his blunt humor. “I got a call from a regular client of mine to come here. He’s a big-time CEO—the owner of a chain of gas companies. He asked me to come here, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

You come up with the lie on the spot and make a show of looking around for your imaginary client. “Hope he’s not playin’ me out,” you huff. “He’s been generous before, but he’s also generous with other women much younger than me.”

“Well, I’d be glad to give ya some company,” Sukuna says. “Between you and me, that guy sounds like a dickhead for even invitin’ you here.” You tilt your head at him, curiously and flirtatiously. “Why is that?” you ask.

Sukuna takes another drag of his cigar, and as the smoke escapes his nostrils, he looks so much like the Devil appearing in a gray cloud to you. ‘Cause this place is crawlin’ with guys like me. And I always get what I want.” He gives you a white-toothed smile that sends shivers down your spine and suddenly, your facade slips a bit.

But not until you’re fortunately distracted. “Sukunaaaa!” someone suddenly shouts from the other side of the bar. He is in a fox mask and black suit with a red tie, standing among other powerful and rich-looking men. “Come! Play a game with us!” The other men agree, shouting him over.

You and Sukuna share a look, him looking like he wants to be anywhere but over there. “Come on,” you chuckle. “I don’t know how to play, but I’ll watch you. I can be your good luck charm.” You sip on your martini as you rise to your feet, waiting for him to follow. After some thought, Sukuna gets up, standing a whole head taller than you. “If ya say so, but be prepared for looks.”

Together, you walk side by side over to the pool table. Just as he said, you gain the curious eye of every man surrounding the pool table, cigars and drinks in hand. The entire area smells of cigar smoke and expensive cologne. Wealth. Sukuna introduces you to the men and you pretend to act flattered as the men kiss your hand and compliment you on your dress.

You stand among them and drink your martini, sizing up Sukuna and his gang. You don’t know if any of them are “his people”, but you stay on guard anyway, sipping as little alcohol as you can. You watch them play pool together, laughing when you’re supposed to and answering questions when asked but not giving too much about yourself away.

Sukuna is pretty quiet most of the time, primarily focused on the game. He is very meticulous; a strategist at pool. His long fingers twirl around his pool stick, his eyes sizing up each player and the eight balls that roll this way and that along the green table. He is good, you admit. He knows just where to shoot and how to do it, betting on each ball with the probability of an expert.

But Mr. Crane—a banker in a crane mask and dark blue suit—is on his ass having gotten close in points. He stands there laughing and joking about while Sukuna sizes him up. “Oooh, I think you’ve got some competition, Mr. Sukuna,” you whisper. “He’s winning.”

Your target grunts in disagreement. “Not for long,” he growls. “I don’t ever lose.” You hum to yourself, staring up at him through your lashes. “You sure about that?”

Now Sukuna turns to you fully and you realize just how tall he is. You have to stand back a bit to even look at him. “Do me a favor,” he purrs, his eyes hooded from the smoke. “Wager somethin’ with me.”

Your heart thunders in anticipation for his next words..but you don’t expect them even when they come out. “If I win this game, you ditch that client who stood ya up and spend the night with me.”

Sukuna’s tatted hand goes for his pocket, patting it. “And trust me, mama: I’ve got the money for it.” A shit-eating grin crosses his lips, showing you the two gold canines embedded in his lower row of teeth.

”And if you lose?” you ask, alarmed by how breathless you sound. Sukuna passively shrugs. “Then I’ll buy you a drink and slip ya the money anyway.” You take a moment to think on this. He could be lying. He could be testing you. But figuring you’ve got a weapon, you agree by clinking your glass with his. “Deal.”

Sukuna’s smile grows, almost looking joyous at your agreement. The game continues and you watch with bated breath as he and Mr. Crane go head to head. You sip your martini, not even noticing how less tense you seem from the alcohol or how bright the lights have become or how hot you seem or how Sukuna shoots the last two balls into a pocket because Mr. Crane missed. Oh, shit. You gape at the astonished player and then at Sukuna. He turns to you, prideful and giddy. “Oh, would you look at that,” he whispers. “I win.” You get a bad, bad feeling in your gut, but you ignore it. Big mistake on your part.

You swallow hard, fixing your mouth into a flirty smile. “So how would you like to spend the night with me, Mr. Sukuna?”you ask. The gangster shrugs, acting clueless. “I dunno…dancing, drinking, or your legs wrapped around my head. It’s your choice.” Suddenly, the obvious sexual tension that has been in the air erupts as soon as the vulgar words are out in the open. You feel your tongue become heavy and your nipples harden beneath your dress. You ignore it all. You can’t be hot over this criminal. Not again!

“You stayin’ here?” you ask though you already know the answer. He nods, his expression lustful. “Let’s get out of here then. I’d like to come back and get some cake from the party though.”

He nods again and lays a hand on your lower back, leading you out of the bar and into the lobby where you walk to the elevators. When you’re finally alone with him behind the elevator doors, you momentarily think about sliding your gun out of your clutch and shooting him, ending this now.

But when his hand slowly slides down your backside to grip your ass, you bite your lip and hold firm. ‘Not yet. In time.’ Finally, the elevators open up onto a hotel suite that looks more like a penthouse. There is a foyer in the middle of the room with glass tables, a private bathroom near the exiting door, plush furniture overlooking a flat-screen, and a small kitchenette with an attached island and mini-bar.

Your heels click as you walk into the suite, admiring the luxurious room. “Nice setup,” you comment. You twirl around to face Sukuna as the elevator doors shut. You’re glad you remembered to wear gloves. You don’t need to leave any fingerprints here. “It’s a little small for my tastes.” Sukuna strides toward you, reaching you in about three steps on his long legs. “But then again, I don’t use this room to sleep.”

Silently, he takes you by the hand and leads you into the large bedroom suite on the right hand side. The walls are painted an indigo blue, giving the room a calm sensation that the king-sized bed in the middle doesn’t. Two plush armchairs sit across from it near a balcony overlooking the city beyond, the moonlight shining onto the bed’s crossed ceiling and bedposts guarding each side of the headboard and the bottom of the bed.

You turn to Sukuna to say something, anything to take the edge off of you, but you’re silenced when he takes a seat at the end of the bed. He sits with his legs spread and his hands in his lap. Even from here, you can tell that he is hard—his dick print is pulsing beneath his slacks. “Take that off,” he demands. “Let me see you.”

Showtime. You lay your clutch down near your feet within arm’s reach before you reach back to slooooowly unzip your dress. The beautiful, red garment slips off of you, leaving you in your strapless corset, panties, and nylon stockings. All trimmed with lace. All sexy. You purposely chose this outfit because the corset lifts your breasts in a way that is enticing and your panties hug your ass, making it plumper and much fatter.

Sukuna gives a sharp intake of breath before he takes off his jacket and starts reaching for his tie. You chuckle though your blood runs hot. “Oh, startin’ already? I didn’t take you as the eager type.” The gangster smirks, yanking his tie off of his throat. “And I didn’t take you as a liar,” he replies.

You blink at him, startled by his words. “W-What?” you stammer. Sukuna continues to strip, unbuttoning each button on his top. “You agreed to let me do whatever I want if I win. I’m askin’ you to take off everything. Includin’ the mask.” He still gives you that humored smirk as his top comes off, revealing a tattooed chest and big, muscular arms to you roped in ink.

You can feel your anxiety peaking. Your stomach is roiling and you feel sick. “I’m not taking off the mask,” you firmly say. Now Sukuna’s smile fades. He looks confused as if he can’t figure you out. “You disobey me?” he asks.

You swallow, not liking how that sounds. “I’m just not comfortable with that. I don’t want you seeing me. It’s something I do with every client.” You keep up with your role, hoping that he’ll take that as an answer…but you’re wrong. He fixes you with a laser-hot look that you don’t like. “You sure?” he asks. “Or are you just tryna save yourself from your sinkin’ ship?”

“What are you talking about?” you snap, glaring at him. You stagger back as he suddenly gets up and walks over to the nightstand. As he does, you quickly unzip your gun and place it behind you in the waistband of your panties. Better to be ready than not at all.

Sukuna turns to you then, holding a glittering diamond wrapped in cloth in his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight of the stolen jewel from the museum. “This is what you want, right?” he asks. “This is what you’re lookin’ for?” His smirk grows into something menacing and almost mocking. “Or is it me you’re lookin’ for, V? It is V, right?”

‘Oh, my God. Not again.’

Sukuna knows he’s got you judging by the deer-in-headlights look you’re sporting on your face despite the mask. “Can I ask you what your plan was tonight?” he asks. Not waiting for an answer, he continues: “What, you thought you’d seduce me, get me up here, suck my dick a bit, and then slap some cuffs on me so you can save the day?”

He snorts at the mere thought of it, the diamond still in his palm. “Stupid girl. I know all about you. Toji and I are close in this business.” He begins to walk toward you, slowly and teasingly like a serial killer who takes joy in scaring his victims before the final kill. He told me aaall about how he used that pussy till it was sore and got away in the end.”

You grow hot at the vulgarity of his taunting words, even more so at the fact that your cover has been blown again. “So what now?” you ask, dropping the act entirely. “You gonna kill me?”

Sukuna places the diamond on a nearby dresser right where a few bottles of wine sit. “I should…but I won’t. After all, we’re up here now.” His eyes grow dark and lustful, frightening you. “So I’m gonna do just what I planned to do: I’m gonna fuck you like I paid for you.” And he definitely is a man who will act on what he says.

Quickly, you take the gun out of your panties and aim it at him. Sukuna stops moving, standing as still as a statue. “Stand back,” you growl. “You come any closer and I’ll put a bullet in you.” One finger sits on the trigger, ready to press down at any given moment.

Anyone else would cry, flinch, beg for their lives…but not Sukuna. He is as stone cold as the look in his eyes. He takes another step toward you, then another, until his chest is pressed against the barrel of your gun. “Do it,” he growls. “I fuckin’ dare you, bitch. Shoot me.”

And so you do. Despite your hammering heart and shaky hand, you pull the trigger….only to hear a click. You pull again, hearing a click. Nothing. “What?” you whisper to yourself, staring at your gun. It’s the perfect advantage for Sukuna to take, which he does by slapping you dead in your face.

With a shout, you fall to the ground, your gun clattering to the floor. You check your lip for blood, finding only smudged lipstick. This motherfucker ruined your makeup! “Slipped into your clutch while you were chattin’ with that wolffish slob,” he explains, grinning evilly at you. “You’d think a hitwoman would be a little more savvy.”

Now you’re angry. He’s insulting your intelligence. Embarrassing you. Humiliating you. “Oh, I am,” you snarl. “I was gonna go easy on you, but now…I’m just gonna make you bleed. Do not ever underestimate me, dickhead.”

You lunge at him and grab onto his belt, using all your might to yank him down onto the floor. As soon as he’s down, you place your arm over his stomach and leap onto him, straddling him. Ignoring his smile and handsome features, you raise a hand to punch him, but his hand shoots out to grab your neck.

You grunt, trying to break his hold which he uses as a distraction to pull you off of him. Back onto the floor you go with the gangster on top of you. He forces your wrists at the top of your head, his big hands gripping and pinning them down to the floor.

“Nice try,” he chuckles, his big body pressing into yours. “I’ve seen better though.”

You try to buck him off, but he wedges one knee between your plump, soft inner thighs, his belt buckle pressing into your pelvis bone. You gasp, feeling suffocated. “St-Stop!” you stammer. “Don’t—“ You’re rudely cut off as his knee glides against your crotch, giving you a spark of pleasure. A soft moan leaves your lips followed by a rush of hot embarrassment.

Sukuna notices, his crimson eyes glinting like a cat’s in the night. “Oh,” he coos. “Was that a moan, babygirl? You like this?” He rolls his hips down into yours, unfortunately causing that same spark of pleasure to explode in your core. He cackles, overjoyed by this. “Maybe this is what you came here for: to get fucked by a gangster. I’m better than Toji though. I promise you that.”

He sits fully on top of you, straddling your waist, and reaches for your clutch. “Let’s see what ya got in here, shall we?” He turns your clutch over, causing each content of it to fall out onto the floor. Your lipstick and switchblade. Your phone. Your powder compact. And a pair of silver handcuffs.

Sukuna’s brow raises in interest and he gives you a smile that makes you damn near sick. He snatches the cuffs before you can reach them and suddenly gets off of you. Before you can wonder what’s happening, he flips you over onto your stomach and begins yanking you across the floor by your ankles. An animalistic grunt leaves your lips as you try to grab onto something to slow your trip, but it’s to no avail.

So you begin trying to kick him, hitting his arm and his leg. You try to get his balls, but you end up getting his knee. “Oooh, bratty!” he cackles. “I’m gonna have some fun with you, whore. You’re dressed for the part already.”

He is rough with you now, taking great pleasure in your shouts of pain and desperation. Finally, he forces you over to the nearest bedpost and yanks on your wrists. You wriggle and squirm, trying to escape him, but you can’t do much when the cuffs are clicking around your wrists.

Clank, clank.

You panic, trying to shake your wrists out, but the chain linking the cuffs together are looped around the bedpost. You are trapped. Sukuna stands back with his hands up his hips, admiring his handiwork. “There we go,” he chuckles. “Nice and tight. You look so good for me right now.”

You turn to stare at him, on your knees and cuffed to the post. “Fuck you,” you growl. His smirk grows along with his cock in his pants. “Oh, not yet, mama, but I’m glad you’re so eager.”

You begin to scream and clatter the cuffs around, making as much noise as you can to alert someone. Anyone. But when the familiar barrel of a gun presses into your backside, you pipe down. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls. “You’re mine tonight. And if you value your job and your life, you’d better do everything I say.”

He uses the gun to press it underneath your chin and turn you to face him. “Understand?” he growls, his red eyes glaring. You know better than to argue or scream or curse. So you swallow your pride and everything you learned from C.O.D.E. training. “Y-Yes,” you whimper.

Sukuna’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree at your obedience. “‘Yes, sir’ is the correct response, but I’ll let you off this one time.” He keeps his gun in his hand, but doesn’t aim it at you anymore. “Now if you wanna do somethin’ else with that mouth besides complain and talk shit, I’ve got an idea.”

His smile fades as he watches you watch him, his gaze molten hot and lustful. You have no choice but to watch him unbuckle his pants with one hand and pull his cock out. Your eyes widen at inch at his long, thick, pulsing shaft protruding from a nest of pink curls.

“Suck my cock,” he demands, his tone firm and serious. “Apologize to me for all of the lies and deceit. Oh, and look up here while you do it.”

You feel your eyes watering and your lips quivering. Everything in you is screaming at you not to comply…but there is one part nesting in the deepest, darkest depths of your being that is interested and curious. The same part of you that emerged in that VIP room with Toji five months ago.

Swallowing your pride, you start by kissing and licking along Sukuna’s shaft, introducing yourself to his cock. He softly groans and hums in enjoyment at your ministrations, pushing his hips forward.

He does so in a way that makes his cock slip between your lips and in your mouth without your permission. You gasp as his thick cock passes the threshold of your mouth, the taste of him all over your tongue. “That’s a good girl,” he moans, using one hand to grab the back of your head.

He pushes you forward onto his dick, taking him deeper into your mouth. You force yourself to open your throat and to breathe through your nostrils in an effort not to choke. He’s about as big as Toji with a thick, bulbous head, heavy balls, and—

Click.

Your eyes tick up to see Sukuna with your phone in his face, the gun now in his pocket. How did he break your code? Did he use Face ID? His cock slips out of your mouth and you take a moment to gasp in some air. “What are you—?”

“Just givin’ you some encouragement and persuasion,” he cuts in, smirking. “After all, you need to do a good job, don’t you? And I would just hate for your boss to somehow see this if you—“

“Don’t!” you cry, tears springing into our eyes. “Fine, I’ll do it! Just don’t send anything!” You want to shield yourself from the camera eye of your phone, but you can’t. You can’t do anything.

Sukuna keeps the camera on you, the threat of pictures or videos looming over you. “Open up then,” he growls. “And don’t even think about usin’ teeth…but you’re a good, smart girl, so I doubt you’ll try it with me.”

His cock pulses in front of you and you shiver. You don’t know if it’s out of repulsion or excitement. Either way, you suck on his cock like you mean it, hollowing your cheeks to take him easier. Sukuna lets out a loud, throaty groan, one hand tangled in your hair.

“That’s it, mama,” he groans. “Take that fuckin’ cock. Y’know, you’re better at this than ya are fightin’.” He pushes in deeper, making you gag and nearly triggering that button in the back of your throat to vomit. “You should think about changin’ occupations…bein’ a little cocksucker is way more fittin’ for ya.”

He begins to fuck your face now, slowly at first, but he is still brutal and rough. You have to force yourself to keep breathing to avoid throwing up all over his dick. “You could be my little cocksucker,” he growls. “My cock slut. My whore. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

You gurgle and gag in response, your throat forced to flex around his cock interrupting its natural state. You feel as if your throat and mouth are being molded into his personal fleshlight with the way he fucks your face, grunting and groaning like a desperate man. His balls slap against your chin, filling your nose with the scent of his cologne and his cock.

You’ve never been used in such a way. You are being resorted to nothing but a toy. A hole for his own use. Saliva drips from your chin and down onto your tits, making you slick and messy…just like another part of you between your thighs. The more he fucks, the more your cunt throbs and pulses in anticipation for it to be fucked the same way.

What is wrong with you?

You can only ask yourself this question more as Sukuna’s thrusts grow rougher and stronger, his fingers digging into your scalp. “Fuck, baby,” he grunts. “You’re about to make me cum. You’d better fuckin’ take it…take it, bitch!”

Finally, with a few more brutal thrusts that steal your air away, Sukuna lets out a loud moan and cums deep down your throat. Your moans of protest and shock are muffled as his cock pushes deep, ropes of warm cum shooting down your throat.

“Take it,” he pants. “Take my fuckin’ cum. I know you want all of it.” He begins to rock his hips slowly, riding out his orgasm as he gives you more and more of his spunk. You take all of it because what other choice do you have?

When he finally pulls away, a string of cum-mixed saliva attaches itself to your bottom lip. He grips your chin, forcing you at look at him. “Show me your mouth,” he demands. “I wanna see it. Stick out your tongue and don’t let a single ounce drop.”

You do as he says, carefully sticking out your tongue so he can see the pool of cum on it. He smiles, patting your cheek. “That’s a good girl. Now swallow.” And like an obedient puppet, you close your mouth and swallow his cum before he gives you a long, wet, open-mouthed kiss that steals your breath away.

When he pulls away, he honestly looks…softer. Like he’s in love with what he sees. “Now,” he coos, wiping a drop of spit off of your lips with his thumb, “let me give you a reward for such a job well done.”

You let him grab your arm and force you onto your feet. Your body feels unbalanced and your legs are wobbly. To some degree, you’re thankful for the support of the post to hold you up as Sukuna’s big hands glide down your ass and thighs. Then, suddenly, you feel his breath caressing your asscheeks and something cool on your skin.

You realize what it is when you feel your panties slice off of your body. A knife. “Please,” you whimper. Sukuna chuckles, humored by your humiliation and fear. “Don’t fret, mama. This is just to get these panties off…if you’re good, that is.” He presses the cool metal of the knife into your thigh, making you feel the jagged edges.

“You can be a good girl for me, can’t you?” he whispers, a wicked smile in his voice. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer before lightly licking you against your slit. You gasp, your wrists straining against the cuffs. His big hands glide up to force your hips back, causing your ass to jut into his face.

Sukuna hums in enjoyment, licking and sucking away at your pussy that seems to grow wetter with every ministration of his tongue. How is he so good at this? You try to hold back your moans, but you can’t. Plus, the knife against your thigh doesn’t allow you. One wrong move or something that he doesn’t like and that knife could be cutting your skin.

So let him do as he pleases. But you don’t really have a choice either. All you can do is grip the pole you’re shackled to as Sukuna sucks on your pussy lips and swirls his tongue around your clit before he dips the muscle inside of you. Your mouth falls open on a loud moan, his soft lips cushioning your clit. Your thighs begin to quiver and you feel your body shake in pleasure.

You hate how good this feels. And you especially hate that the man you hate is making you feel this good.

Sukuna lightly pulls on your pussy lips, earning a whimper from you. “Isn’t this so much better than fightin’ me, baby?” he asks before French kissing your cunt once again. He kisses you sloppily and messily, his tongue licking and sliding this way and that. “Fuckin’ slut,” he growls, gripping your asscheek and giving it a smack. “You’re so desperate for me. It’s what you should be.”

He moves the knife to your lower stomach, pressing the tip into your lace bra. Your pulse jumps as you feel it puncture a hole in it, ruining the bra and grazing against one of your breasts. “Please,” you whine. “Please!”

Sukuna smiles, still licking and sucking your pussy with all of the vigor of a hungered man. “I like you beggin’,” he replies. “Do it again for me. Beg real pretty for me, slut.” You have no choice when he continues on slurping on your cunt and fucking your hole, his nose swiping against your clit.

“Please, please, please!” you sob. “Please let me cum!” Your begging must satisfy Sukuna because his tongue moves a little faster, his pace causing your body to quake against the restrictions of the cuffs. His hot, wet mouth causes your orgasm to wash over you quickly yet powerfully, controlling every part of your body. You let out a whine of pleasure as your cum explodes in Sukuna’s mouth, drenching his lips and chin in your juices.

The aftershocks come and your body starts writhing, causing you to grip the pole for dear life. Sukuna hums in satisfaction, cleaning you up as you writhe for him. Finally, when the aftershocks subside, you slump against the pole, your knees nearly giving out. Sukuna pulls away from you finally and lovingly strokes your ass. “Good little slut,” he coos in his deep voice. “But we ain’t done yet so you’d better get it together.”

Instantly, your stomach grows fluttery with butterflies and your core grows warm. You know exactly what is coming next. You can’t stop. You can’t avoid it. And more frighteningly, you’re not even sure if you don’t want it.

Sukuna stands behind you and places one foot between yours to widen your legs out. His knife glides up your side to your neck to come across your throat. You freeze as soon as you feel the cold metal touch your tender, warm skin. Sukuna chuckles into your ear as his other hand plays with your wet pussy. “What a thrill, huh?” he hisses. “You ain’t been thrilled yet till you’ve gotten me.”

You concur. You can’t help but to do so when he finally slides that big, thick, long cock inside of you. Slick and open from your orgasm, he slides right in and makes his home between your velvety walls. He groans into your ear while your mouth falls agape on a silent moan.

You feel stretched. You feel full. You feel used. And you feel absolutely, positively amazing. Sukuna digs his nails into the fleshy part where your ass meets your hip, his fingers fondling your tummy. “Fuck!” he grunts into your ear, panting hotly. Even he can’t get a grip on himself. Your pussy feels too good wrapped around him, stroking him of all he’s worth.

He drops the knife, no longer needing it, and your body relaxes…until the blade is replaced with his hand. “Take it,” he demands. “Take that fuckin’ cock. You know you need it.” His other hand grips your stomach, kneading the plushy, soft flesh as he fucks into your wet heat. “So let me give it to you,” he huffs. “Lemme give you everything that slutty pussy needs.”

His hips hammer harder and faster into your ass, making it quiver and recoil. Your moans are loud and high-pitched, unable to be silenced due to Sukuna’s pistoning thrusts. He fucks you like a machine, pumping in and out, out and in, his cock pulsing inside of you. “F-Fuck!” you stammer. “Wait, Sukuna! You’re going t-too fast!”

Your pussy feels like it’s going into overload, being stuffed too much and too quickly. Tears spring into your eyes as Sukuna grips your throat tighter, cutting off your air for just a moment. “Quiet!” he snaps. “Sluts don’t talk. They only take dick. They take all that’s given to them and they’re thankful for it.”

Short moans and gasps leave your lips as he continues to squeeze, still fucking you dumb. Your knees buckle and your head feels fuzzy from the overstimulation and his hand gripping your throat. The pleasure somehow mounts to astronomical heights because of this, leaving you a dumb, mindless mess.

Sukuna presses his lips to your ear, his lip ring cool against the shell of your ear. “So tell me thank you. Say “thank you, Daddy, for givin’ me that dick. Thank you for fuckin’ me so good. Thank you for makin’ me your little cock whore”.” He loosens his hold on your neck, allowing you time to breathe. But you can’t breathe. You can’t even speak. Your mind is full of cock, unable to focus on anything but Sukuna’s big thighs against yours and his dick pummeling into you.

His hand grips your neck again, tighter this time, and you gag. “Say it!” he demands, roaring into your ear. “Say the fuckin’ words!” This time, he doesn’t release your neck, so you’re forced to get the words out with his fingers pressing into your throat. Fat, wet tears drip from your lashes, wetting your cheeks behind your mask.

“Thank you!” you sob out, finally broken. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you for giving me your dick! T-Thank you for…for…!” You trail off, your words turning into a desperate moan as you feel the knot in your core tighten.

You’re about to cum. Your target, this gangster, a lowdown, dirty criminal, is going to make you burst all over his big, fat cock as if you’re his lover and he’s deserving of all of it. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you warn. “Please, please let me cum, Daddy! I can’t take it!”

You grip the cuffs for dear life as he fucks and fucks and fucks you. Your knuckles turn white, an indication of the pleasure you’re experiencing. Sukuna chuckles, enjoying your torture. “Aww, but the fun just started, baby,” he condescendingly coos. “You gonna cum already? Is this gangster cock just too good?” You whimper in response, your eyes fluttering closed.

Smack!

Sukuna slaps your ass hard, making it sting. “I don’t hear an answer,” he growls. His thrusts grow quick and brutal, turning your pussy into mush and making your clit sing. “Yes! Yes, it feels so fucking good!” you babble.

“Cum on it then,” he orders. “Give Daddy what he wants. Fucking cum for me now, V.” He continues this brutal, controlling pace with one hand gripping your throat and the other on your ass, drilling into your pussy and against your G-spot with all of the mercy of a sinner.

It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to snap. “Oh, fuck!” you whine, damn near screaming for all to hear as you cum hard around Sukuna’s cock. Your orgasm hits you hard and intensely, sending you on a trip as you thrash in Sukuna’s hands and against the post.

Your pussy grips him tighter than a vice as you cream him, coating him from his cockhead to his balls in your juices. He grunts in pleasure by how tight you’ve grown, gripping and stroking him until he has no choice but to cum. Before he can, he pulls out of you and forces you down onto your knees. You’re so weak that you go tumbling down like a baby deer still weak on its hind legs.

“Look at me.” You stare up into Sukuna’s eyes, now facing the man behind the red mask. He has taken it off, revealing his handsome face and strange, tatted stripes on his cheeks. He furiously pumps his slick cock with one hand while he uses the other to rip off your mask. You’re too weak and spent to protest or fight him off.

His face grows red and glistens in sweat from the fury of his pumping, his arm tense as he jerks himself off in front of you. “Take me,” he demands. “Take my cum, my good little whore.” With a few more pumps, he finally bursts with a roar of pleasure, his head flying back as he shoots his spunk all over your face and tits.

You gasp as the warm liquid hits your face, dripping down your cheeks, lips, neck, and juicy tits, making your skin sobbing wet and sticky with him. Your breath comes out in short puffs of air as you recover from the vigorous fucking, completely spent. And ruined.

Sukuna deeply exhales, relaxed and satisfied. “Not bad, little girl,” he chuckles. “I haven’t cum that hard in a minute.” You watch as he picks up his knife and begins to redress himself like nothing happened, fastening his buttons and his belt. Like this was just a quickie and nothing more.

When he finishes, he smirks down at you as he fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Look at you, all messy,” he tuts. “Didn’t your boss teach ya to clean up after yourself?”

He kneels down and begins dabbing his cum off of your face, but not your tits. You already know you look crazy—mascara dripping, lipstick smudged, foundation fucked up. You eyeball Sukuna as he finishes cleaning you up. Even when he takes the key to the cuffs out of your clutch and releases you, you still glare at him like you’re trying to kill him with your eyes.

He tuts, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, now don’t look so glum. Here, I’ve got a present for you for your hard work.” He gives you a wink before walking over to the nightstand, leaving you to recover on the floor.

Slowly, you put your dress back on, hissing at the burn of your hands and wrists from the cuffs. You do your best to keep the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks at bay. You’re almost dressed when Sukuna comes back to you and presents you with the diamond, covering it with the cloth.

You’re stunned into silence for a while, even as he places the rock in front of you and then backs away. He watches you as you watch the diamond, half expecting it to blow up or something…but it doesn’t. Immediately, you feel enraged. “So you’re gonna give me that and what? Let me go?” You laugh, dry and loud. “Was the pussy that good that now you feel bad?”

Immediately, Sukuna’s hand is wrapped tight in your hair. He grips it and yanks you up, making you shout in pain. He brings you up an inch away from his irritated, crimson eyes. “Don’t get too cocky, bitch,” he hisses. “This ain’t about how hard you made me bust or how good you looked takin’ my cock. This is about teachin’ you a lesson.”

Your body tenses and grows cold. As if sensing this, Sukuna soothes your fears. “I’m not gonna kill you,” he explains. “Instead, I’m gonna give you that stupid rock you wanted and you can explain all to your boss about how you saved the day to get it…but only you’ll know what it took. Only you’ll know how you failed again.”

He leans in, smirking. “And that cuts deeper than any knife.” And it does. Already, you feel gutted than Toji made you feel. You’re bleeding out all over the floor, humiliated. Broken. Destroyed. You have failed again.

Sukuna’s smirk grows wider and he loosens his grip on your hair. “But I like you,” he chuckles. “And I don’t like a lot of people, so I’ll throw ya a sweetener: if we ever cross paths again and you get tired of bein’ a hero, you can come kick it with me. Be my little slut and my partner.”

He leans in, giving your neck a long lick, making you whine. “How’s that sound, doll?” he whispers, stroking your cheek. You don’t answer. If anything, you feel like spitting in his face. “I’ll let you sit on it, but my offer stands. Till we meet again, V.”

He gives you a wink and releases you before fastening his mask onto his face. You watch as he turns to leave, unable to take him from behind. You’re too weak and too defeated to do so. “Feel free to use the shower!” he calls, and then you hear the elevator ding.

So you do. Once he is gone and the hotel suite is now yours, you drag yourself to the luxurious bathroom, undress, and take a scalding shower to wash Sukuna’s cum, your ruined makeup, and tonight’s mistakes off of you. You use as much of the floral-scented body wash as you can, washing, scrubbing, and rinsing until your fingers and toes are pruned.

But even that isn’t enough. When you end your long, hot shower, you feel just as dirty as when you walked into it. You then steal one of the plush hotel robes left by the shower and drag yourself back into the hotel room, leaving the floor a mess with your discarded items. The only thing you pick up is your phone.

There, several calls from your boss wait for you. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself. Is it possible Sukuna sent him something anyway? Only one way to find out.

With your mind made up and your heart pounding, you press on your boss’ contact and wait for him to answer, each dial tone making your anxiety peak. Finally, he answers. “V, Thank God!” he exclaims. “I’ve been calling you for hours! Where the hell have you been?! The agents that I put on the Sukuna case told me you’re at the party and Sukuna’s file is gone. V, are you there right now?”

You don't answer for a moment, too busy staring at the diamond sitting next to your discarded mask. Both signs of your failure. Tears begin to rise to the surface again, but this time, only one falls. You can’t fool yourself anymore.

“V!” your boss shouts. “V, answer me! Where are you right now?”

“I’m sorry, boss,” you choke out, wiping your cheek. “I’m going to have to resign.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unraveled 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: thanks for waiting on this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets. 

Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b. 

“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.” 

You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you. 

You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens. 

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--” 

“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.” 

“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him. 

“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.” 

“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you. 

“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.” 

Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch. 

“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway. 

“I need only see your sister,” you insist. 

“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs. 

“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask. 

He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so. 

You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace. 

“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps. 

He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.” 

You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks. 

“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say. 

You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again. 

“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.” 

You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth. 

“I told you, I’m busy--” 

“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.” 

She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.” 

“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.” 

She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.” 

“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever. 

“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.” 

You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply. 

“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.” 

“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you. 

You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper. 

“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.” 

You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--” 

“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.” 

You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know. 

“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.” 

“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?” 

You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape. 

You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down. 

“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.” 

“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola. 

“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.” 

You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.” 

“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug. 

You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?” 

“If you insist,” she pouts. 

You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte. 

-🪡

When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position. 

Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway. 

“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.” 

You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--” 

“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.” 

You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.” 

“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.” 

“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.” 

“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--” 

“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer. 

“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.” 

“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag. 

“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.” 

“I’m--” 

You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead. 

“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.” 

He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite. 

“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept. 

“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.” 

You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms. 

Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands. 

When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?” 

You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his. 

Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door. 

He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt. 

You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles. 

“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.” 

You nod, uncertain of a proper response. 

“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.” 

“Suppose not,” you reply dully. 

“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.” 

“A spinster?” You supply. 

“I didn’t--” 

“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?” 

“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.” 

“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.” 

He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.” 

“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.” 

He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.” 

[toastbabiesweek]

"As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe."

This August marks the 15th anniversary of the release of Mockingjay, where at the end, our heroine who had been terrified of having children in the dangerous world she was raised in, reveals to us that she has two children of her own, indicating that after all of her grief, there was finally a world where her children could be safe.

This is the true heart of Toast Babies Week, a celebration of two children symbolic of a future where every child can be safe.

While originating as a fandom event, it didn't seem right to simply dream of this future. And so in conjunction with Toast Babies Week, we're also going to be promoting a charity fundraiser for the following children's charities:

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund: "Our mission is to provide medical and humanitarian relief collectively and individually to children throughout the Levant, regardless of their nationality or religion."

Save the Children: "We work in the United States and around the world to give children a healthy start in life, the opportunity to learn and protection from harm. When crisis strikes and children are most vulnerable, we are always among the first to respond and the last to leave."

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[arcaneauthor]

Can you do things hyunjin does as your bf🙏

Cute things Hyunjin does as your bf

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Tags: fluff, like that’s all there is

Warnings: none

Author’s note: sorry that my requests are being posted a little slower now but I’m currently trying to write multiple different requests, a multi chapter story, and complete a couple of art commissions so my creativity is stretched a little thin rn. But I’m gonna try to start getting them out faster in the future! Hope you enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If you’re shorter then him then expect lots of head pats and hair ruffles

Which are usually accompanied by him calling you cute

Likes to hug you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder or head

If you’re also an artist like him (which I am) he’ll set you up a second little art station in the room with his so you can do it together

Ik y’all are probably expecting me to put sometime about liking you to sit on his lap while he paints or something but if he’s anything like me I absolutely hate when people watch me work lol it makes me nervous

Buys you matching couples rings

He loves play with your hair. Like he’ll just constantly be running his hands though it.

As he’s stated before he’s not a big spender and really thinks before he buys so when he does buy you gifts you better believe they are super meaningful and thought out

Just makes you feel way funnier than you are. Like he literally laughs at everything you say

Pulls his phone out to snap candid pictures of you any time he thinks you look exceptionally beautiful. Got a whole album atp. Most of them are of you laughing or smiling at something. He’s absolutely obsessed with your genuine, natural smile.

Loves to just lay on top of you and wrap his long limbs around you like an octopus while nuzzling his head into your shoulder. Like if he comes in tired from a long day and sees you laid on the couch he’ll just flop himself over top of you without a word.

He’ll do it playfully too. Like if you’re trying to leave he’ll just lay his whole body weight on you so you can’t get up. “Nope. You can’t go” He of course lets you go if you really want him to get off, but I mean who would want him to get off of them👀

As an artist who has been known to make portraits, he analyzes the details of someone’s features more than most meaning when he compliments you it’s not always just “you’re pretty” or “you look beautiful” instead it’s: “The speckle of colors in your eyes are gorgeous.” “The way your hair glows in the sun makes you look like an angel” etc.

Like he literally just lifts you and your confidence up so much whether it’s from compliments about your appearance or praising you on certain skills or things you do well. Low self esteem does not exist when you’re around hyunjin

Without really meaning to, he makes you the focal point of his art more and more. Even when it’s not directly an image of you he’s creating an abstract piece that represents what you make him feel. Love. He just paints what comes to mind and more often then not that’s you these days

[psaiouma]

TOP 10 SAIOU AUTHORS EVER GO!!!!!

Due to the length of the response I will be putting everything in a Read More, but please do read it!! I have so much love and compliments to give!! And there's DEFINITELY more than 10 listed! But this list was hard as fuck and NOT definitive. Did I miss one of your faves? Write them in the replies :D!!!

Other than the #1 & 2, all of these are in no particular order!

Rovelae! THE platonic love of my life and my #1 inspiration. I would not be here and would not be writing if I hadn't read Hologram and all of her amazing other works. Genuinely, I believe that every single thing Rov writes is a genuine masterpiece full of complex thought and strict planning. Never in a million years did I think she'd become one of my best friends, but I always said she was my #1 long before we ever spoke a word to one another. To this day, no other fic has come close to the way Hologram has made me feel over and over again. She'd bashfully list many other things that should top it, but they simply don't. Her understanding of Shuichi and Kokichi, plus their dynamic, is something that speaks to me and my preferences directly. I cannot express the true glee I feel that she regularly asks me to beta and read her early works, and that I get to see inside that brilliant mind over and over. AND that she sends me pictures of snakes daily!!! You should read (among many others): HOLOGRAM (my #1 fic recommendation with ART I COMMISSIONED FROM CELE HERE!! AND ART BY AUNI HERE!!!), Ruin, Potion of Steal Your Heart, The Flat Effect (WITH ART AUNI DREW HERE!!), and Before the Stars Evaporate (She gets five recs because I LOVE HER!!!!)

FrostieFroakie! My beautiful, amazing, perfect, talented beloved <3 Any time someone asked me who my fave author was, I said Rov, and if you asked me who my fave nsfw author was, there was no competition. None whatsoever. And now the former is one of my best friends and the latter... is the love of my goddamn life of almost four years. <3 My faves have never changed and I WILL hold my angel up on the HIGHEST goddamn pedestal and you will too <3 Froakie is one of THE best authors I've ever had the goddamn PLEASURE of reading. Not only does she write the hottest shit ever catered to ME, but she does it all in such a way that you really feel like you're in a new world. She has one of the most vivid and amazing imaginations I've ever experienced in my entire life, and I will GLADLY rub in all of your faces that I get to see and hear every amazing thought that comes out of her gigantic, beautiful brain. Guess who knows the plots to the Orcahara and Wolf/Bunny sequels? ME, BITCHESSSS <3 On a much more serious note, I do genuinely mean it that I absolutely love everything she writes and does. Call me biased I do not give a single shit. She's never written anything bad in her entire life. [Once again, she will disagree with me, and she is always right about everything, but I do not care, her works are breathtaking and brilliant.] You should read (NOTE: all nsfw): Cowhara Sins (this is quintessential Intro to Saiou reading), Orcahara Sins, I Make Them Good Girls Go Bad, Hunting Season, and Despite Everything, (She ALSO gets five because she's my GIRLFRIEND and the LOML!!!!)

Unseeliekey It is with great sorrow that I tell you that all of Eye's fics on AO3 have been deleted. Last I'd heard from Eye in 2022, he was moving on to OC content, but would continue his multichaptered fics in the future. Should he do so, I know we'd all be GIDDY to see them, but for now, my inclination is to believe that won't happen, since his account still existed last we talked. Though I do not know my stance on fic saving and sharing once an author has deleted their works, everything that Eye ever wrote HAS been saved, with (I believe) one exception. If you DO want to experience some of the most incredible, breathtaking, life-ruining fics in the entire Saiousphere, I have the connections to get you the Goods(tm). His works are remembered fondly, and anyone who was lucky enough to be around when his fics were still up will most likely list him in their top ten, even though he's been gone for over two years now. From his magnum opus, Therefore You and Me(...), to You've Got the Right(...), to Kattar Shuffle, to Fob, to (...)Tragedy and Comedy(...), to Put the Knife Down(...), to Puppy Love, to (...)You are the Captain, to All Drama(...) and EVERYTHING in between, his works are remembered, worshiped, loved, and envied. Eye was truly, truly, a requirement of Saiou reading. And if you were to ever see this @unseeliekey, I hope you know that you were an inspiration to all, and it was an honor to have read your things while they were public. I hope you are doing well wherever you may be, and that you come back someday.

Majorinconvenience When filling all of these out, I saved Kam for last, because I knew it would be the hardest due to a falling out between what I thought was going to be an everlasting friendship. However, I also knew it would be a god damn lie if I didn't put them in my top 10. Their work still shines beautifully all these years later, and come hell or high water I am gonna recommend them. Kam's pieces are jaw droppingly, achingly gorgeous. They are filled with emotion and yearning very few are able to match. I could list many things from their time in the Saiou fandom, but the loudest of which is easily Drowned Words followed by "Gymnopédie No. 1" and The Truth is in the Eye of the Beholder. I highly encourage you to check out everything, though.

Chuwuyas Jul is, in my opinion, one of THE staples of the Saiouma Fandom. Not only being the GOD behind everyone's favorite reverse Phantom Thief AU, but also one of the funniest goddamn oneshots of all time, and also some of the best smut. Jul can write, Jul can DRAW, Jul is THE hottest person IN the Saiouverse and it's NOT even close. They are my favorite Komaeda kinnie and one of my dearest friends. Every time you read a Chuwuyas fic, you know you're in for the best goddamn ride of your entire life. They have SUCH a way of absorbing you in one of the best whirlwinds of all time, and it's a ride you never want to get off. Look, I do a lot of bragging in this post because I am truly proud of the friends and connections I have made, but I genuinely believe one of my greatest accomplishments and prides in my entire life is the fact that Jul has called me THE honorary Moriarty Kinnie, and the fate of Catch & Release has been left in my hands should anything ever happen to Jul before ch 5 releases. [Not that anything will happen. But holy shit what an honor????] You WILL learn about Moriarty Saihara (aka me) by reading Catch & Release. And you should also check out How to Fall in Love in Three Easy Steps!

LovingDefiance Did you think I would make a top 10 and NOT put LovingDefiance on it? I don't give a SHIT if they haven't uploaded anything in five years. I am STILL subscribed and if they were to ever make a return I WILL sob the happiest tears you've ever seen in your entire life. Quite frankly, their Love Hotel Collection (nsfw) is a must-read four part recommendation for me. Saiou switch, there's aftercare, and god DAMN are you going to have a good time. But that's truly not all. Everything they've ever written is an absolute goddamn treat that will leave you salivating for more. I have read and reread their entire collection many times, and it truly never gets old. I hope wherever they are, they are happy.

Rannas I fear this description will not be as long as it should be, but truly, all I can say is that Rannas' writing is great. They had my favorite fic in Your Hand in Mine, a Saiouma Zine, and I've been reading their works consistently for a long, long time. Every Rannas fic is something special and unique, with each sentence being filled with grace and care. I've known many people who have claimed Rannas as their #1 Saiou author, and it's not hard to see why. Hell, when looking through their AO3 again to recommend something, I was wonderfully reminded JUST how much I love everything they've ever written. I will not out their nsfw account here, but know that it is ALSO in my top 10, and it's in yours too. Of course, I am recommending Our Deal, but I'm also going to dance and sing about the hilarious Salmon Mode Series and Meeting Your Match!

Teharissa Though I only have one fic to recommend, Teri's writing is by far and in large the best goddamn stuff I've ever read. They are my FAVORITE writer when it comes exclusively to writing style. This one example will not do Teri justice, but you must trust me on this. It was an honor to work with them on Spilled Ink (a DRV3 writing zine) and their Kiiruma piece is the absolute best work in the entire zine. Also, overall, I just loved talking to them and I miss our conversations and getting to hear their thoughts. Truly an upstanding individual who I gleefully recommend with no hesitancy. I am begging you to read A Thousand Paper Cranes!!

Nxllberry Just to prove I'm not EXCLUSIVELY an oldhead yearning for 2020/1 (though I am), I MUST put Nxllberry on this list, but not for the reason you're probably going to assume. Though their fic Godspeed IS a good recommendation, and you should definitely check it and their other works out, I am here to spread the gospel (pun intended) on their fic Rising Tide, which is, to this day, my favorite postgame smut ever written, and the main reason they are getting put in the top 10. Nxllberry's work is absolutely legendary, and though I haven't checked out the MCD works, I'm sure if that's your speed then you're going to LOVE those. Because the way they handle emotions is just delicious in every way.

ME!!!! Ezra Psychiccupid! You should ALWAYS include yourself in your top ten!!! I always know exactly what I want to read in a way no one else does LOL!! If you don't love your writing and think it's the best then what are you DOING? Perhaps you are an aspiring author and you think people are better than you, and that's okay! It's great to have writers you look up to. But you better think your stuff is AWESOME or about to be awesome!!! YOU put that out there!!! I'm still a relatively new writer in the grand scheme of things. Saiou Prom was only done FOUR YEARS AGO. Sep. 2020. I've grown a lot and I've seen many things since then, but I loved what I wrote then and still do. GRR You should always been in your top 10!!! I'm fucking awesome and I write really good stories because I have really good ideas. I'm extremely honored and thankful that so many people agree. Please, please read my fics and also hype yourself up today!!! Feels a little weird to rec myself but if you DO read anything of mine, please have it be King Piece or In the Aftermath of a Killing Game. If you want to get a feel for how much my writing has grown and improved since those two, check out My Stick; Your Bites (latest work), or One Day We Will Both Die(...). Also, would be a fool to not rec my most popular work, Poison Mouth, though I hope something better outshines it one day :)))) Please,,,

HONORABLE MENTIONS: I have many friends and I know SO many talented people that I'm gonna shout out a LOT and you better be READY. (I'll try to be quicker here ahaha!)

Bcschauer! Aka Lulu! Do you want fluffy Saiou? Because this is the QUEEN of fluffy Saiou. I especially rec Behind Pale Gray which I WILL bully her about to finish. :) Cinderous_scrivenings! Aka Sixth! One hit wonder, though I've had the HONOR of reading more than has been posted. Please read What's Yours to Have, you won't regret it! I_Am_A_Ruin! Aka Bee! One of THE most important people in my entire life. I cannot recommend their works more. Bee has such a way of making everything they write whimsical, like you're sitting by an enchanted campfire being told a story. Their brain is so beautiful and massive. Narrowing down my recommended list for them is extremely difficult, but I think I'm going to go with Poor Unfortunate Souls, Bite the Hand That Feeds You(...) (nsfw), and Fluffernutters and Buttons the Bear! Kokichiouma! Aka Hope! Obviously, I'm going to recommend Reaching, THE time loop Saiou fic. But beyond Reaching, Hope is one of the most in-depth minds in the entire Saiou fandom, who has been writing V3 analysis and translation differences for years. I cannot recommend his work enough. Khattikeri! Aka Keri! Has one of THE BEST canon divergent/postgame AUs of all time. Alongside being one of the most talented people I'm honored to call a friend, Keri is brilliant beyond compare. Please read one of my favorite fics of all time, Everyone's Killing Reality. Notchucktingle! Aka Jess! I think now more than ever, Jess' work is not only incredible but NECESSARY to read. He is, in my personal opinion, one of the most incredible authors to read to get an authentic trans perspective and experience. As someone who is too scared to be out, these fics mean a lot to me, and I know they do to other trans people as well. He's also just an awesome writer. You MUST read Come Into the Water, but I think he'd be a little cross if I didn't also recommend his current brainchild Bad Habit, and who am I to ignore good food? ReturnToZero! Has been in this game a LONG time and has so much to show for it. You absolutely get the best of both NSFW and SFW fics with Zero. From Agrypnos and •.¸♡ Dreamweaver ♡¸.• to Wishing it Was You (KISSING PRACTICE FIC!!) and Drop-Dead Gorgeous, you will always find something to read! Thatsrightdollface! is THE current go-to if you want consistent, good works near-daily. How they have the writing capacity they do is beyond me but, genuinely, they are SO powerful. I'll confess that I slept on their works for a long, long time, but on Rov's insistence, I started reading daily and I have not regretted it for a second. My favorites thus far are The Rubber Horse Head Mask Strikes and "Gamest in the Land" even if it HURTS!! Myaami! Whose works are always to die for. Extremely excitedly, they are about to do a raffle for a PHYSICAL, PRITED OUT COPY of their fic Dawn Again, on this Vibrant and Violent Night (and you BET I'm getting on in that), but I'm also going to sneak in a recommendation for Dream with Me, because I LOVE this fic.

And SO MANY MORE!!!!! Seriously. I could list like. 20 more people in an instant.

If I did individual fics that I love??? We'd be here ALL DAY. (I'm working on a doc of every Saiou fic I've ever read, actually). It's impossible to make a top ten, truly. Some days, the honorable mentions are in the top ten, some days, you wake up and a brand new INCREDIBLE phantom thief AU has just dropped and all of a sudden you're talking to one of the newest, most brilliant minds of the Saiou fandom out of nowhere.

If you didn't make the list, please know that I love your writing. Even if I have you muted, even if we have beef, even if you never share your work, I love you for writing.