#also he looks immaculate up close

[chuluoyi]

✎ wife

- gojo satoru x reader

in which the new batch of first years are unaware that their eccentric teacher's wife is the pretty woman roaming the school grounds

genre: fluff, crack, gojo being a silly little menace as always, yuji and nobara are confused, an attempt at humor, lovesick gojo, mention of breastfeeding

note: it’s so silly but i had fun writing this! based on a request by anon (thank you!) but i tweaked it a bit and partly inspired by this fanart. reader is also a teacher at jujutsu high and has a baby with gojo—loosely a continuation of protect

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Take that off immediately!"

"Kyaaah~! Yuji is here, you pervert!"

Yuji was a laughing mess. Megumi and Nobara collectively sighed. Nanami attempted to retrieve his once-immaculate suit, now a crumpled mess, from the one and only Gojo Satoru, who found humor in stealing his signature attire and impersonating the stern-faced Nanami in front of his fresh batch of first years.

"He is incorrigible," Nobara grumbled, her eyes slitting. They said that he was a strong sorcerer, possibly the strongest there was, but she found it really hard to believe.

Megumi threw her a deadpan stare. With many years of putting up with this kind of antics under his belt, he pitied her for not knowing that this was far from the worst. "Yeah, he is."

"How does anyone ever put up with him?"

That was actually a good question. "We don't..." Megumi paused, recalling each and every occasion where he tried to do so. "His wife is probably the only one who can."

Nobara sputtered, spinning towards him. "What the—wife? That annoying man has an actual, living, breathing wife?"

"Who? Gojo-sensei?" Yuji chimed in, jumping into the conversation, leaving the supposedly two adults in their catfight. Nanami was still clawing to get his suit back, and Gojo continued to giggle and evade him, playfully running away.

Nobara scoffed. "I bet the woman just married him for the money. He comes from prestigious clan, yes? That must be it."

Yuji felt his eyes would pop out of its sockets. "What are you talking about, Kugisaki!? What woman—"

"Shut up, Itadori! Don't be too loud!"

Nobara and Yuji's unharmonious ruckus irritated Megumi to the bone, and he decided that the best course of action now was to leave them all in the dust. With a glare and a shake of his head, he stalked away.

And thus the two new first years were left with half-truths that would lead them into a major misadventure later that day—

—which happened when they spotted Nanami with you, whom they were still unfamiliar with.

They were convinced that Gojo’s wife must be some sort of boring tramp eyeing his wealth and not this positively radiant, mature woman, and so ruling that possibility out, they positively swooned at the sight before them.

"He's irresponsible, egotistical—" snippets of Nanami's frustrated words conveyed enough to paint a picture of Gojo's character. He was definitely ranting about Gojo to you.

"Is that Nanamin's wife?" Yuji mused, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "She is so pretty..."

"They... look cute together," Nobara hummed with dreamy eyes, and then looked at Yuji sharply. "And yes, she's indeed pretty, but know your place, Itadori!"

"I know!"

Based on how the two of you interacted, they concluded that you must have been close, with the way Nanami visibly relaxed around you, and not as formal as he was with anyone else. They highly suspected that the two of you were married, as you wore a ring, which was the ultimate sign.

"And how's the baby?" Nanami asked then, directing the question to you with a smile on his face, prompting surprised gasps from both Yuji and Nobara.

You were glowing, to say the least, and when you let out a small giggle at his question, even both students couldn't miss the way your expression exuded pure happiness. "He is well. Ah, I really wanted to bring him along too, but he was a little messy after eating so I left him at home. You can see him later…"

Yuji gaped. "So it's true..."

"Oh my gosh... and they have a baby." Nobara almost squealed.

And that sealed it. The headline of the day: Nanami is married to this stunning woman wandering the school grounds.

So imagine their utter shock when the second time they found you, you were with Gojo, and he was shamelessly snogging you in the hallway.

“Why are you here?” Gojo was breathless after the soul-sucking kiss he smothered you. His tone remained playful yet carried a clear undertone of concern. "You're still on maternity leave. I'll make sure Yaga knows that."

“Satoru,” you whined, and the use of his given name made Yuji and Nobara gasp in disbelief. “I’m perfectly okay and I don’t need to breastfeed anymore. I should start getting back to work.”

Nobara seemed to finally understand the implication. But Yuji didn’t. His mind flitting from one scandalous idea to another—

Gojo-sensei seducing Nanamin’s wife? Nanamin’s wife cheating on him with Gojo-sensei?

In the brief period he spent with Gojo, Yuji realized that he didn't exactly have a reputation for decency. So despite himself, he could only muster up this one word: “Homewrecker. Homewrecker!”

Yuji’s shriek took all three of you by surprise, and now both you and Gojo were aware of his presence.

“You absolute idiot,” Nobara hissed, face-palming.

“Oh, Yuji? Nobara?” Gojo genially asked, his concern towards you quickly dissolved into a meaningful smirk on his face. “And what do you mean by—?”

Yuji yelped. “You! You are! You’re trying to seduce Nanamin’s wife!”

Silence. Gojo’s eyes twitched beyond his blindfold. You blinked. Nobara wanted to save herself from the second-hand embarrassment. And his loud voice caught the attention of Megumi too, who was close by.

“You seem to be mistaken. First of all, Nanami isn’t married,” Gojo said with a strained voice, maintaining his smile. He then gestured at you, showing you off with pride. “And this here, is my wife.”

“Y-your wife?!” Yuji exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. “H-how?! I saw her with Nanamin! Talking about a baby—”

“That would be my baby.”

“But how?!”

“Yuji, do you want me to give you a crash course in baby-making—”

“Satoru!”

You sent him a glare and turned to the young first years with a smile. "You must be the new first years? I’m Y/N, and I’m in charge of the second years.” You gestured towards your husband. “And please, ignore most things he says. He’s a bit crass, and if you ever feel he's harassed you, don't hesitate to report it to me."

“Wifey! How could you!”

“Shut up, Satoru! You’re embarrassing yourself!”

“What are you doing here?” Megumi inquired with a deep frown, getting between Yuji and Nobara as they stared at Gojo in total bewilderment.

Yuji exclaimed in disbelief, pointing at you. “Fushiguro! Gojo-sensei’s wife is a beauty!”

“…I know that already.”

Nobara whipped her head towards him. "You knew?! Since when?!"

“They… took me in.”

“THEY WHAT?!”

Gojo grinned at their chorus of surprise. “And what a fine boy he turns out to be, eh?”

Megumi scowled, but Gojo wasn’t bothered at all. If anything, what offended him was—

"What makes you think my dear wife here belongs to Nanami instead of me?" he joked with a mock scoff, earning an eye roll from you.

Nobara and Yuji blurted out their thoughts simultaneously.

“They look good together?”

“Nanamin is dependable?”

Gojo gasped dramatically, one hand flying to his mouth. "So, not only do I not look good with her, but I also don't seem dependable enough?" He turned to you with the most aghast expression. “Tell me that isn’t true—”

You shot him a withering look, deadpanning, “Actually, you might be.”

And Gojo clutched his chest, letting out an anguished cry.

Epilogue

“Satoru… come on, you know I was joking.”

Your dramatic ass of a husband had his head on your lap, hugging your torso tight. The pout on his face hadn’t faded a bit ever since he was done with his class, and now on your marital bed, he was clinging to you with all of his might.

He shook his head petulantly, clicking his tongue. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of my students. You’re so mean!”

You sighed. “I’m sure you have made a fool out of yourself far often. This is insignificant.”

“Hmph! How could you say that?! I don't care if it's me, but I can't believe that it's coming from you! I shower you with my undivided love each and every day!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Somehow seeing him like this made your heart lurch. He reminded you so much of your baby boy who was sleeping right in the next room that you couldn't resist smiling and pinching his cheeks.

“Okay, okay. My husband is handsome, looks good with me and definitely someone I can rely on,” you relented, and like a lightbulb going off, Satoru suddenly beamed so wide that you were certain his cheeks hurt.

“That’s more like it! Now, now, there’s only one way that can prove how responsible I am! Let me just fill you up with another baby—”

You smacked him on the head.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: so basically i know next to nothing about photoshoots and stuff and this is just something i imagined and tried to convey in words. also im using my lil hc that bakugou has piercing holes in his ears, occasionally wears some small hoops or just dots just so they dont close. enjoy!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ contains: sexual tension? i guess?? masturbation, bakugou discovering his praise kink through reader. gender neutral reader. i think that’s all. not proofread!! im too tired sorry babes

part two!

just a thought on timeskip! bakugou where he begrudgingly agrees to do one photoshoot for some jewellery brand he doesn’t care about. since beat jeanist kind of forced him to do this and threatened to make him the face of his new clothing line, katsuki thought “fuck it”. and he is very well used to people looking at him in awe, as smug as that sounds, and he expects a huge set with dozens of people running around and whispering between each other, like he’s seen happen when he was visiting kirishima on his shooting.

he’s seen the obnoxiousness of the photographers, the over the top extravagancy of the designers and panicked makeup artists and other workers, and he despises the atmosphere that settles in studios, so of course he doesn’t wanna fucking do a shoot. but best jeanist assures him that the photographer/designer/whatever the fuck is a friend of his and a professional, and this shoot will be very different from any of the things he’s seen.

and it is different indeed.

the studio he goes to is a penthouse on top of a building; and as soon as he steps in he is met with a big ass room and windows that circle the said room, opening up an immaculate view from ceiling to the floor. and he counts only 3 people roaming in and out of the doors that lead to other rooms, which is a fucking surprise. him and his manager exchange a suspicious look before you finally emerge from one of the rooms, so busy setting your camera that only a timid call of your name from his manager is able to bring you back to the world.

a warm smile appears on your face as you extend a hand to his manager, which he shakes a little too excitedly for bakugou’s liking, enamoured smile stretching on his lips as he introduces himself. after slapping the back of his head, katsuki also shakes your hand and grumbles about getting this over with as he strides forward to the makeup artist.

he observes everything while his face is being touched with different brushes and powdered to the point of him sneezing it all off; one guy works on the lighting around the centre of the room where the shoot is going to be filmed, one girl runs around with a rack of clothes, gathering the stuff he will be wearing— mainly the jewellery he will be wearing since this shoot is supposed to be focused on that. and you occasionally chat with his very obviously crushing manager and continue to lead your small team, managing to build something out of nothing, and bakugou finds the atmosphere uncomfortably intimate.

there is no constant muttering around, a background noise he’s used to hearing even outside of the studios and all that; there is no arguing and no stress and no drama, which katsuki finds to be very weird, but somehow pleasant. a soft tune plays in the background after he gruffly declined an offer to put his own music if he wanted because no, music is indeed personal, and while you hum under your breath, oblivious to his staring, bakugou finds himself allured.

soon he is seated on the lonely looking stool: for the first round he’s got a couple of earrings in his ears, all rich looking gold and not as simple as he thought they would be, all carefully chosen by you. you stand extremely close to him, your hands coming up and down as you imagine how every piece would look on him and choose the best ones, the ones that fit only him, and at some point katsuki notices that he waits for your approving, pleased expression to appear with baited breath.

you don’t press him about posing a certain way, more focused on directing the lighting’s guy, most of your face hidden behind your camera as you angle it to capture the radiance of the stones and the way they compliment his skin tone. you gently order for some of the curtains to be opened and closed while you change sides and katsuki’s sure that he is doing literally nothing, just looking the way he thinks he looks good and relaxing when you smile down at the pictures on the small screen of your camera.

he is very much infatuated at this point, though. with how your soft voice guides everyone, guides him to sit a certain way, place his hands a certain way, asks him if you can touch him before you hang your camera on your neck and your soft fingers hover over his skin, scared to touch as if he’s made of porcelain yet gentle in the way they tilt his head to the side, effectively showing off his neck and the gold necklace that rests over his exposed collarbones.

“you’re a natural,” you mumble under your breath appreciatively, nimble fingers styling his hair, as you nearly stand between his spread legs. “nearly every shot is perfect.”

katsuki fucking prays that his chest isn’t turning red because the red will then crawl higher and reach his face too, and looking like a blushing schoolgirl in front of you wasn’t an option, not at all. he is used to being praised, unresponsive to it because frankly he couldn’t give a flying fuck about what people thought of him, however you’re so close and so soft and so sweet with that silky voice of yours and your charming smile.

you touch his cheek, wiping something off with an attentive gaze and pursed lips, and inquire if he wants to take a break or anything, but katsuki refuses. he honestly doesn’t even know if he wants this to be over, yet he knows that he will have to find your number one way or another, no explanation needed. everyone leaves to eat or whatever and he is finally left alone with you, waiting for you to come back from the makeup stand.

“bakugou-san?” you ask him and he snaps his head up, noticing a black pencil in your hand. eyeliner, he recognizes. “mind if i put some on?”

he nods and your free hand cups the side of his face, tilting it to your pleasing, moving him around any way you want because he lets you. while you apply and smear the liner over his lash line and lids, thumbs moving softly over the skin, katsuki is wondering: is he that touchstarved that fleeting touches, professionally required even, from a stranger he met a couple of hours ago make him want something he doesn’t even know he needed before? it’s fucking pathetic, awfully stupid of him, but when your thumb slides down to rub the corner of his bottom lip bakugou is pretty sure you aren’t just giving him some extra attention.

he isn’t a baby who needs someone to do things for him, you could’ve asked him or the makeup artist to do this stuff, yet you figured out that he isn’t opposed to your close proximity and stepped in, thighs brushing against each other and minty breaths mingling with his.

katsuki’s losing his mind by the end of the shooting, hoping that the loose pants that he is adorning are able to conceal the half hard dick he’s been trying to get down for the last half an hour.

and when he is finally home, alone, he shoves his hand deep in his pants, fist getting a hold of his fully hard, raging boner, a relieved groan escaping his throat as he strokes it up and down, thinking about the way you smelled so pleasantly and smiled at him like he was a gem, a precious stone you found, just like the real ones in the expensive accessories he’s worn today. dozens of cameras flashing in his face from different angles couldn’t compare to the attentiveness of your gaze that never left him during the photoshoot.

and while he is getting closer and closer to release katsuki thinks of the praises you muttered under your breath, how you appreciated him, told him how good he did for you and how pretty he was.

“doing so good f’me,” you whispered, looking at him through the camera while he slowly threw his head back to show off a necklace, careful to not stumble off the small stool, and he acted like the mesmerised tone of your voice didn’t make his dick harder. “wonderful, angel.”

fuck, when was the last time someone’s words had such impact on him? feels like a thousand fucking years, but katsuki’s too fucked out to think about that, gasping as he convulsed through his orgasm, his hand unable to slow down as spurts of milky liquid covered it.

“good boy.” rings in his head and his phone vibrates along with it.

a message from his manager containing your number.

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[daycourtofficial]

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1.5k | warnings: none

Summary: fears and doubts cause you and Eris to do your first irrational act together: a secret mating bond ceremony

Author’s note: happy Eris Week to all who celebrate and to @erisweekofficial for all their work!! I gotta start with my roots and my first post has to be gingerfucker!! I have to give the people what they know me for!! This can be read as a stand alone tho 🫶🏻

You breathed deeply, the chimes of the clock tower drowning out any other noise. Eris stood before you, an immaculate jacket of deep red adorning his chest. He wore a black dress shirt beneath, embroidered with the phases of the moon around the collar. His jacket was a rich velvet, gold thread woven throughout.

It was the perfect way to symbolize your unity. You were not sure who made such a garment, unsure if black fabric was even allowed in the Autumn Court.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care when his soft amber eyes look down at you as he held out his arm for you.

The two of you were in the Day Court under the cover of darkness, a secret mating ceremony. It was truly quite romantic, a tale you hoped to share whenever it’s safe for you to do so.

You had come to visit Helion a month prior for negotiations on behalf of Rhysand. You had asked to come in Rhys’s stead because 1) you also had wanted to peruse the libraries and 2) you were hoping to negotiate a pegasus from Helion.

At least, those were the reasons you gave your brother.

The end of Amarantha’s reign had allowed you to finally see your mate for the first time in five decades, having slipped away to a spot in the woods after Rhys’s return to wait in hopes of just a glimpse of him.

You had waited impatiently, certain that the nerves and anxiety were rolling off you in waves for any nearby wildlife to intercept. It felt incredible to see him again, your face tucked beneath his chin as he held you close to him, his scent burning itself into your memory once more.

His first words to you following your separation were a desperate plea for a ceremony, his pleas soft as he clutched you tightly to his chest.

You knew it was too risky to do it in either of your home courts. Spring was an obvious no, Winter and Dawn were quite risky, leaving Summer and Day as your only real options.

You were quite fond of Helion, and you were sure you could convince him to allow the two of you passage into his court for a few hours.

After he listened to your pleas, he agreed to allow the two of you access to one of his temples for a few hours.

“Not all of us can see so well in the moonlight,” he had told you, letting you know the location of the most beautiful temple in his court. “Only one priestess roams the halls on Tuesday nights. She is quite fond of performing such ceremonies.”

His words were no embellishment. The temple before you was massive and stunningly beautiful. The high arched ceilings with suns painted everywhere almost glowed against the blue backdrop behind them.

You wondered how it looked during the day.

Eris looked down as you hooked your arm into his. You had accepted the bond decades ago, but the two of you wanted to go through with the ceremony. To ensure that no matter what happened to two of you moving forward, whatever happened to your courts, your people, your homes, there was some record with this date and your names on it. Some written record for future generations to find eons later, when the lands look nothing like they do now and the people live lives that resemble nothing like your own.

When the common tongue is gone, replaced with some newer language you couldn’t begin to understand. Your names would live forever within the pages of this temple, tucked away in their recorded archives: the prince of the Autumn Court and the princess of the Night Court, bound together by fate and by their own wishes.

The flickering light from the candles made Eris’s freckles dance across his face.

The lord led you down the long aisle, your arm nestled into his elbow. The two of you moved in tandem, your long skirts kissing the ground as you went, the black fabric turning red as it moved down your body until it looked as if you walked in the flames.

The priestess nodded at the two of you as you approached the altar, your dress’s slight train cascading down the steps behind you. You turned to Eris, his hands outstretched in invitation, pleading for yours to rest atop them. His hands were warm against yours, the familiar heat calming your nerves.

The priestess before you wore all white, a long flowing gown cinched at the waist. It looked nothing like what Helion wore - instead of long, flowing fabrics, the priestess wore a long, tight-fitted dress, long bell shaped sleeves adorning her arms. A white hood covered her dark black hair, and dark hands adorned with gold rings peaked out from her sleeves.

The priestess lit the candles around the altar as you two looked into each other’s eyes, every emotion strumming through the bond between you two, a song you swore you could hear humming through the air and your chest.

She approached the two of you, a golden silk ribbon in her hands. You moved your right hand into his right hand, and he gently scraped his index finger against his palm. She began chanting, wrapping the soft silk around your forearms. She connected the two joined hands, and you squeezed Eris’s palm, offering a soft smile that he returned.

He was captivating in the night, a fire that kept you warm long through a treacherous night.

Her chanting paused as she looked at you, her low voice telling you, “if you wish to exchange any personal vows, now is the time.”

You took a deep breath, turning back to Eris.

Your mate looked back at you, and any nerves you had dissipated as you started speaking, the words coming from your lips as you gazed into his amber eyes.

“I’m not sure if we were ever two separate things, but if we were, if we are, the edges of you and I have been blurring since I met you, our definitions becoming hazier. I am officially laying claim that there is no longer any part of me that hasn’t been invaded by you.

“I have prayed for you in bonfires, in the dying hearths of my childhood. I always viewed fire as a sacred thing, always offering it something so it can continue to burn before me. Perhaps I was just learning how to stoke the flames, or maybe I knew that worshiping the flame would lead me to you.”

His hand squeezed your own, the ribbon not feeling tight enough to truly blend the two of you together.

His eyes shone in the candlelight, his beauty intensified in the flame as if it knew he was kin.

“I have gone by many names. Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn throne, prick, eldest, …. All of those names pale in comparison to the first time you called me ‘mate’.

“That awful playwright who you adore so much put into one of his plays, “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” And yet, he never knew what it felt like to be called ‘yours’, what it feels like when you gaze at me so softly, to see the words ‘mine, mine, mine’ swimming in your irises.

“I do not know where my promises can lie, what I am truly capable of. I do not wish to commit to false promises. Our foundation has always been on feeble ground, and I do not wish to build a mateship on such poor foundations.

“I promise to do my very best for you, every day, every minute, for the rest of my life. I promise that every decision I will make will include you as a factor. As the factor. My life is complicated, as you are aware, but you are not complicated. You never have been. My chest yearns for you, at all times. You have always offered me the peace of familiarity.“

You surged forward, capturing his lips in a kiss before pulling back quickly.

“Er, I don’t care about my name, or my title. None of it compares to being called your mate.”

The priestess looked at you two, probably waiting to see if you would pounce on him right here. Maybe that was how they held these ceremonies in Day. You were sure Helion wouldn’t mind.

“You are bound together, from here for eternity, in perfect union. May the Mother bless you both with endless love and patience for each other.”

The air had a certain crispness to it at her words, the bond humming in your chest with satisfaction, satisfying a yearning that hadn’t let up for centuries.

Nobody could deny either of you the sanctity of your bond anymore.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124

Thanks for reading ❣��

[star-sim]

hello kitty meets batman (real not clickbait!) ☆ jake sim

☆ youtuber! super down bad! bf! jake x youtuber! fem! reader ☆summary: jake sim was youtube's cut-throat, horror creator, known for his dark video style. meanwhile, you were the cutesy beauty vlogger, lighting up every algorithmically generated home page you touched. no one would have expected you two vastly different people to know each other, let alone be in a long-term relationship. ☆ genre: fluff, youtuber! au, secret dating! au, established relationship, suggestive, im sorry im never letting the ytber au go, cutesy!reader, jake is SO down bad its kinda painful #patheticmen ☆warning(s): no, just fluffy, also reader is really feminine and girly in this ☆ word count: 13.4k words ☆ wrote half of this in spanish class so im sorry if there are mistakes, first time writing established relationship in full, kinda nervy

Jake Sim was many things.

One of the most popular and well-respected content creators on Youtube was one of them.

As Jake's nimble fingers darted across his keyboard, his other hand rested firmly on his mouth, he thought that the blue light emitting from his computer screen should burn his eyes. Except, it didn't. Despite what most people thought, 90% of being Youtuber was just simply staring at a computer screen, rather than being in front of a camera lens. The man felt his nose prickle before he let out a soundless, but satisfying, yawn. He leaned back against his office chair, stretching his neck and arms before he rubbed his eyes.

There was a reason that he was an extremely respected creator on Youtube.

For one, the production quality of his videos were high. Down to the Closed Captions or his camera's grain, Jake's attention to detail was immaculate. Not to mention, the content itself was magnificent. 

Whenever people asked Jake what he did for work, it was hard for him to answer.

He'd said that he made horror content, but he'd only earned incredulous looks, like he was a madman. Even then, "horror" content wasn't the correct description.

In short, Jake liked to make videos about obscure things. Which just so happened to be a little spooky. Sketchy true crime cases, searches for lost media, strange Internet phenomena, government cover-ups— Name anything a little bit eerie and Jake probably already covered something of that sort on his channel. Given the nature of his content, Jake almost always maintained a serious tone, but when the opportunity came to offer his opinion, he liked to relay it in a straightforward way. 

Another reason why he was so regarded was because of his content style. He preferred using darker colors, having a crisp microphone that picked up every rasp of his deeper voice. When he had camera shots, Jake liked to be in a dimly lit room. Unfortunately, his room was dark, too. 

This all combined together to create a singular image for Jake: the cool, high-quality, but a little bit scary, guy that likes to make videos about scary topics.

Now cracking his knuckles, Jake sucked in a sharp breath. Although he could easily export his upcoming video now and upload it, garnering millions of views, he refused to. There was something missing from it; it needed a little umph, a little embellishment to really pull things together. If there was one thing about Jake, it was that he'd put quality over quantity any day.

Jake is torn out of his thoughts when his phone, long forgotten next to his mouse, lit up. Usually, when he worked long afternoons like this, he silenced his phones in order to maintain focus.

However, there was always one exception.

You.

pretty girl: hi babe, do you think you can help me take promo pictures later?

The moment that Jake saw your contact show up, he picked up his phone immediately. His fingers tapped his screen, quickly responding to you.

me: yeah i can do it rn if you want

pretty girl: if youre busy, it doesn't need to be today, it can be tomorrow or something

pretty girl: oh

pretty girl: are you sure?

Of course he was.

Jake was already shutting off his monitor, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes at your first message.

me: yeah i'll come over right now

You were Jake Sim's girlfriend. But other than the people in your personal life, no one else knew that.

Not that either of you minded.

Like Jake, you were a Youtuber. Except, your community was the complete opposite from his.

Your niche was cute makeup and lifestyle. Your videos had cute, blushy sets, characterized by cute plushies in the background and pretty, pink decorations. When you weren't making makeup tutorials or "get ready with me's," you were giving your viewers small sneak-peeks into your life. Whether it be your rosy morning skincare, or your sunny afternoon cooking attempts, or your illuminated late night thoughts, your content was light-hearted, soft, and personable. 

And if you weren't doing any of those things, you were modeling.

You were a beauty influencer, so you had sponsors from different makeup companies and such. What was most distinguishable from your personal brand was that you were one of Sanrio's biggest ambassadors. If there was someone that was the living embodiment of Hello Kitty, it was you.

Your personability, and your ability to feel authentic to your viewers, was a key factor in your large viewerbase. And what contributed to that the most was the fact that you had no idea how to use a camera. One would think that a content creator would know how to use a camera, but you were somehow the exception.

Not a problem!

Because you had your boyfriend, Jake!

Who was basically the master of content creation and film, in your opinion.

"Jakey!" you pounced on your boyfriend the moment he appeared at your apartment doorway. You threw your arms around his neck, immediately peppering his neck and cheeks with kisses. You heard him let out a few chuckles, feeling the rumble of his strong chest as he did. 

"Geez, babe, let me take my shoes off first," Jake teased you, taking in your sweet strawberry perfume. You immediately peeled yourself off of him, your lips forming a cute frown. 

"Shut up," you murmured, punching him on the arm while you jutted your bottom lip out. The lip tint and gloss on them shined, which made Jake grin. And when you noticed that he was staring at your lips, you gave him a gentle shove before saying again, “Shut up, Jakey.”

There it was, his favorite thing about you.

You were so, very, really, undeniably, mean to him.

Okay, that sounded weird.

But it was the truth.

Your relationship could be summed up in a few words—

You were just the cutest, and could barely contain your feelings for Jake, so you'd get all cuddly and affectionate with him. He'd tease you about it, so you'd get all shy and flustered, and you would begin to be mean to him. You'd call him stupid or annoying, and you'd tell him to go away but make no effort to resist his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And then he would get to tease you more, until you were so embarrassed that you relented and let him kiss you.

How could he not resist teasing you?

You were always so pretty, with makeup or not, and it was easy to tease you since you got embarrassed so easily.

Even if he was holding his most expensive camera in his hands, he'd still let you pounce on him, if it meant that he got one extra kiss from you.

You led him to your bedroom. It had the same sweet, strawberry scent as you. Your room was pink, and along the walls were shelves, all filled with the many, many plushies that Jake bought you. Plopping onto your bed, Jake watched as you dug around your filming desk.

"Sooo," he started, "You're gonna do a promotional post on Instagram?"

You hummed. Sanrio recently launched a new line of lip tints, and they sent you their newest ones to review and promote. 

"I already made a review, and it's going to go up later," you said, digging through your drawers. "I want to make a promo post, too, y'know?"

You let out an 'a-ha!' as you found what you were looking for. It was a tube of lip-tint, the newest one from the collection. You then touched up your makeup a little more. 

Jake watched you in awe. The way you applied lip gloss and brushed setting powder (or was it blush? he didn't know anything about makeup) onto your cheeks was so mesmerizing, as you weren't already so captivating to him.

Finally, you stood up, straightening out your outfit. You puckered your lips, and when you noticed Jake staring at you, you gave him a little twirl.

"How do I look?" you asked. 

Jake, with his camera in hand, pointed the lens at you. He looked through the viewfinder.

"Beautiful." 

As always.

The shoot went smoothly. As you always did when Jake was your photographer, the two of you drove to the film studio, renting out a room for a good hour. Jake was a pro with the camera and you were an even bigger pro at modeling. Other than a few compositional edits or changes in exposure, you and Jake were done as soon as you started. The two of you decided that you’d go back to your place, cook dinner together, and maybe watch a movie.

Except that got delayed.

“Y-You’re so annoying, Jake,” you struggled out. You were in the back seat of your car, legs thrown over your boyfriend’s hips, his soft lips connected to your neck. Your fingers gently tugged on his hair, you yourself pressing soft pecks against his forehead and temples. It started because you gave Jake a kiss on the cheek as a ‘thank you,’ which spiraled into a makeout session in your car.

“What,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flickering up to yours. “You said you’d do anything to express your thanks for me.”

Jake kissed your neck again, before trailing up your throat to your jaw. Your fingers raked through his soft hair, pushing his dark locks out of his face so that you could see his face clearly. Jake reached up, took your hand out of his hair, and instead held your palm against his cheek, nuzzling into your warm hand. The way your eyes widened into saucers, lips parting, in response made the man’s lips curve upward.

“W-Well I thought you’d ask me to hug you… or something,” you said sheepishly, your voice soft as your boyfriend’s actions flustered you.

Jake grinned to himself internally before pulling away from you altogether. 

“Then do you want to stop?” Your eyes widened a fraction. “Then, let’s go hom—“

“No!” you cut him off, your hands squeezing his shoulders. “Let’s not!”

You stared at him, brows furrowed, for a few moments, before you noticed the growing grin on your boyfriend’s face. That look you knew too well, the one that said that he was going to tease the everlasting fuck out of you.

Jake pulled you in by the waist, close enough so that your chests touched, noses almost brushing against each other. He could feel the heat radiating off your face, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“You sure you don’t wanna stop?” His voice was teasing, but you knew better. The earnest look in his eyes, you stared into yours, was filled with sincerity. He gave your waist a squeeze, almost as if to ask, “Do you actually want this?”

“Yes, Jakey,” you breathed against his lips, matter-of-factly. “I don’t wanna stop.”

The corner of his lips begin to lift.

“So you better kiss me,” you quipped, gripping his shoulders.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he rasped back, before attacking your lips.

(Later, when you were done, you two went home and went about your plan for the night. Except, you had to yell at Jake to go wash his face, because the sight of your lipstick at the corner of his lips was too much for you to take.)

"Hi, everyone!" you greeted the camera, folding your hands in your lap. With your thick, pink, knit sweater's sleeves falling over your wrists, you shot the lens a pretty smile. It was another normal day on the job of making content.

"As you guys know, VidCon is coming up soon." You pulled your makeup pouch toward your chest, leaning against the edge of your filming desk. "So, let's pack with me!"

Vidcon was an event for people to meet all of their favorite Youtubers. This year, you were invited to be one of the featured creators, given your popularity. As you filmed your "Pack with Me!" vlog, surrounded by ring lights aided by your windows cracked open, you recalled the email you had sent earlier, squeezing your eyes shut.

You see, Jake and you were both invited to VidCon. Since no one else, not even Youtube the corporation or your fellow Youtubers, knew that you guys were dating, Jake and you were given vastly different things. Youtube booked an entire hotel complex for all of its creators, and unfortunately, your room was located 10 floors below Jake's room. And worse, your booths and events were so far apart from each other that you probably wouldn't even see your boyfriend even if he decided to traverse the Convention. 

That's what you got for being vastly different content creators.

This year would be the first year that you and Jake got invited to VidCon, and you two wanted to share this experience with each other as much as possible.

Which is why you just shot Youtube one of the most embarrassing emails of your life.

"Hi, Youtube. The hotel complex you booked has a bar, and it is much closer to the top than the bottom. I really want to visit that bar. Can I request a room change so that my room is maybe on the 15th or 16th floors?" except add more formalities and much more discreet language, and that was the email you sent to your employers. You knew that it wouldn't be hard, and that the Youtube PR manager wouldn't reject your request. After all, you were the Sanrio beauty girl. Regardless, you'd gotten a response about an hour ago, and your request was approved, luckily. 

As you continued talking to your camera, folding your clothes neatly while chatting to your viewers about updates in your life, you thought about what you and Jake should do at VidCon. It was in the LA area, but you definitely wanted to visit other places in Southern California. 

It was no surprise that you and Jake had been more than touchy and close to each other. You were dating. Still, butterflies formed in your stomach as you thought about what you would do with him. Your face heated up at the thought of you and him spending time together in the hotel's rooftop hot-tub. The idea of him sneaking in your room at night, warming you up and pepperinging your cheeks with kisses, made your heart rate speed up, and you could only relish in the thought of exploring LA, Irvine, or wherever Jake wanted to take you with him.

You were a grown woman with a job and responsibilities, but the mere thought of your boyfriend being within the same vicinity as you made you nervous.

Just as you finished folding your clothes, you heard your front door crack open.

"Babe?" you hear Jake's voice call out your name. You turn off your camera to greet him, swearing to forget all of the thoughts you just had. Except, the moment that you locked eyes with him, all determination to not be teased left your body. Your lips wobbled, trying to bite back that stupid, bashful, and lovesick smile that made its way onto your face when you thought about Jake, but your eyes gave it all away. Instead of throwing yourself at him like you usually did, you only reached for the hem of his black T-shirt, playing with it sheepishly. 

You mumbled a small, "Hi."

You could feel Jake staring at you, and you could hear the way his lips curve into a smug, shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," you told him, your eyebrows crashing together.

"Baby, I didn't even say anything," Jake said, his hands finding their place on your lower back.

You felt shy and exposed before him. "Well, I know you're going to say something."

Jake grasped your chin, gently making you look at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible to avoid those dreamy, caramel eyes. Then, he took your face with both his hands, leaning in.

Was he going to kiss you? Oh my god, he was! Quick! What do you do? You felt like you were going to melt.

Instinctively, your hands tightened on the hem of his shirt, the black fabric scrunching in your fists. You closed your eyes, your lips softly puckering. You could feel him coming closer and closer, until his breath fanned your cheek.

As if he hadn't kissed you a million times before, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. 

Jake ghosted his lips over yours, inching just close enough that he could brush his lip against yours. 

And then, he pulled away from you. He took off his shoes, placed down his keys, and made his way into your bedroom, leaving you there standing alone.

Heat spread across your face and neck and ears as you realized your boyfriend had just teased you once again. You hid your face in your palms, letting out a small whine of embarrassment, before recollecting yourself and joining your boyfriend.

"Woah, what's going on here, babe?" Jake asked, standing at your bedroom doorway. 

"Oh." There was clothes and film equipment sprawled across your floor and bed. "I was filming a video."

You saw Jake's expression twitch, before he took your hands in his.

"My bad, was I interrupting something?" He was sincere in how his face showed a small drop of guilt for disrupting your filming. How could someone be such a tease one moment yet be so genuine the next?

"No, it's okay, Jakey," you said. "I mean, I need to finish my video, but I don't mind if you're around."

And that's how you found yourself trying not to burst out laughing as you filmed your video. Jake kept making funny faces at you, that goofy grin growing on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Jake, stop making faces!" you laughed, throwing a shirt at him.

He dodged it, throwing his head back into one of the plushies that he bought you. "I'm not doing anything!"

You threw another shirt at him, this time hitting him square in the face. Instead of admitting defeat, Jake only grabbed your shirt, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking a long, dramatic, sniff. 

"You smell sooooo good, babe," he said, ignoring your contorted expression, "I think I'm gonna keep this. You won't mind, right?"

"Ugh, Jaaaaakee!"

You plopped on top of him in bed. You felt his chest rumble as chuckles left his lips, rolling your eyes at him. You gave his chest a smack, a pout forming on your lips.

"You're so annoying," you mumbled as his hands slithered up to your hips. He gave your ass a pat, gesturing you to adjust your position. You did, sitting up so that you straddled your boyfriend's hips.

"And you're so pretty," he said, squeezing your hipbone.

"Let go of me," you poked him in the chest, but made no attempt to get off of him. 

"No."

"I need to finish my video," you pouted, still not moving to get off of him. 

"I don't care." Jake instead sat up on his elbows, his hands sliding down to your lower back, his face getting suspiciously close to your boobs. "Just lay with me."

Your fingers ran through his dark locks, before giving them a tug towards your chest. Jake laid his cheek against your boobs like they were pillows, arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and neck. The next thing you knew, he was pressing sticky kisses against your chest and neck, soft gasps escaping your lips.

"Sorry, babe," he muttered against the shell of your ear, "I just can't resist you."

You let out a soft "ahhh!" when he bit down on your skin, his teeth brushing against the nape of your neck. Jake briefly pulled away, a smirk making its way onto his face as he admired the red-purple mark on your neck. 

"You're just too addicting."

Long story short, your video was still finished and uploaded. As Jake edited his video, he let yours play in the background, your bright voice illuminating his dark room. Somehow, your voice was the only thing that made him focus. 

However, when he heard a familiar laugh— his laugh— in your video, Jake stopped in his tracks.

His mind flashed back to what happened the other day in your apartment, when he interrupted you during your filming.

"I don't know if I turned off my camera, Jake," you had purred as Jake's tongue dipped into your collarbone. At that point, both you and him were shirtless, hair disheveled and pupils blown out with desire. Jake remembered the electricity that ran through him as those words left your lips.

"Am I supposed to care?" he had muttered, trailing kisses down your chest. "If they hear us, that's not my problem."

It was almost like you, who edited your video, added that clip to tease him. 

Immediately, his cheeks began turning the brightest shade of red possible. If you were here, he would have only coughed and looked away shyly, but since he was alone, his embarrassment spread across his face like a wildfire. Jake almost never showed it when he was flustered, at least when he was around you. 

He hid his face in his palms, sucking in a sharp breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, warmth prickling his skin. You were going to be the death of him. He let out a small, lovesick giggle, one that his friends would flame him for. He couldn't help it, not if it was you. 

When he read the comments, still flustered out of his mind, he felt a twinge of disappointment when no one seemed to notice him. 

For some reason, Jake couldn’t help but want people to know that you were his. He knew that you and him kept your relationship private to preserve it, but he still wanted to show you off.

Except, one comment caught his eye.

“Wait, does [Name] have a boyfriend? Who laughed at 6:34?” it read. Jake’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. The warmth that spread across his chest as his lips pulled upwards. He almost wanted to jump on his bed and roll around while giggling like a schoolgirl, but he contained himself.

At the corner of his eye, Jake spotted a certain plushie. 

As you were a partner of Sanrio, for a time there was a Limited Edition [Name] plushie, clad in pink with a cute, ruffle-lace bow to top it all off. Of course he bought one the moment it launched. Jake preferred his room to be completely dark and black, but he liked to keep that plushie on his bed, and although he’d never admit it, he hugged it when he slept if you weren’t with him.

Would it be wrong of him to tease you back? After all, Jake still had to film the brand deal for his new video. 

Would it hurt to position the plushie just enough so that it was in frame? 

So that maybe someone would see it.

Vidcon came crashing on you and Jake like a meteor, and before the two of you knew it, you were in the venue, wringing your fingers as the event commenced.

Sometimes, it was difficult for you to comprehend the level of your popularity. Sure, the numbers that Youtube loved to display for you told you that you had millions watching you, but mere numerical figures were simply not enough for you to wrap your mind around.

Your schedule that day was simple: you were going to have a booth that you'd tend to for an hour or two, where your fans could take pictures with you and take a few freebies with them. Then, you'd go to your main event, which was in a smaller venue.

At your booth, where you sat currently, your personal table was set up in a very special way: your table was pink, and covered in a lacy, white tablecloth. Even the wall behind you was specifically painted pink and decorated with various Sanrio-esque decorations. You had stickers that you'd give out, as well as a Limited Edition Vidcon Sanrio plushie of you that people could buy. The pink polaroid decorated with Hello Kitty stickers hung around your neck with a pink lanyard. You genuinely looked like Sanrio and Hello Kitty vomited all over you, but you didn't mind. And plus, that didn't matter, because you were cute either way.

You were hit with pure surprise as multiple groups of fans came your way. The amount of people that came to you, rambling nervously about how much they loved you, how much they looked up to you, how much you inspired them and made their days better, made you feel light-headed. And very warm inside.

Jake was the one that did the talking for you (thank goodness!), but for some reason, you pushed through your usual shyness, instead wanting for people to come up to you and talk.

Your face lit up as one of your fans, a girl that looked around your age, maybe only a few years younger than you, approached you. You could tell by the Sanrio sticker of you on her phone case that she was most definitely here for you.

"Oh my gosh, hi [Name]!" She gazed at you with wide, glimmering eyes. 

Your initial reaction was surprise, but then you broke out into a smile. You cocked your head, fingers gripping the hem of your dress, both nervous and excited. "Hi, there."

You fan took one look at your face, and squealed. The way that she giggled, bouncing on her feet as she fangirled over you made warmth spread across your cheeks, getting shy and looking down briefly.

"I'm sorry, [Name]!" Your fan couldn't stop giggling, which you thought was very cute. It was now that you noticed the camera in your hand. "I just really love your content, and I'm just so excited to meet you in real life!"

You blinked at her a few times, before you smile only widened. 

"Don't worry about it!" you said, taking her free hand in yours. Your shyness melted away as your fan squealed again. "It really means a lot to me that you came out here to personally see me."

Your eyes flickered over to her camera, squeezing her hand and motioning to it with your other. "Can I...?"

She nodded enthusiastically, so you took her camera. Turn on the 'photo' setting, you posed for the camera, taking multiple pictures of yourself for her. You hoped that that would make up for your shyness. The two of you hugged, and you took many polaroids for her.

Almost immediately, after she left, you were tagged in a Twitter thread. It was that fan, reporting her experience with you.

"She was so much prettier in real life, I thought I was in heaven," her tweets detailed, "And [Name] was so sweet! It felt like I was meeting the real life Hello Kitty."

She posted the pictures you took on her camera, and then the videos. You couldn't help but grin like an idiot, especially at the comments (and the rapidly-accumulating likes and retweets).

"The way [Name] gets so shy is so cute!"

"I don't really watch beauty content but I love [Name] so much."

"She's like an actual Disney Princess."

You loved your fans, you really did. You were grateful for them, and you thought they were very cute. 

You were excited to see how Vidcon would treat you.

Jake was fighting.

He was fighting demons, wars, the little voices in his head.

Did you have to look so pretty today?

Jake's own event was an entire venue away from yours. He had a few events, so after his first one, he took a small break, where he looked through his notifications. 

Of course, the first thing he looked at was your texts. They were from a while ago, during his show when he didn't have his phone on him, so he responded to them now. He smiled at your cute texts, expressing how excited and happy you were. His heart jumped out of his chest when he saw the selfie you sent him: there you were, in all your cutesy Sanrio glory, smiling so prettily for him. Jake had to clasp his face to hide the stupid, love-struck grin that bled onto his face. 

"Oi, what're you giggling about?" Jake was interrupted by Jay, another one of his fellow horror Youtubers.

Jake immediately wiped his expression clean. "Nothing."

When he glanced back at his phone, that dumb grin began to form again.

Jay groaned. "This is so weird. It's like watching Batman smile."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake scoffed.

"I'm sayin' that you're basically Youtube's Batman," Jay scrunched his nose, "And it's weird seein' you all... smiley and stuff."

"I literally smiled earlier!"

"Not in the way that you did just now. I have a bad feeling about it."

"Shut up!"

Jake really tried his best to swallow back his pure admiration for you as he opened his phone screen again, but he failed miserably.

He wished he could see you right now. He loved to see his fans, he loved to talk to them about their shared interest: all things horror and obscure.

But Jake missed you right now.

His heart plummeted to his stomach, however, when he logged onto Twitter, and saw the worst hashtag he could ever think of: #[Name]isSoCute.

He agreed with it. No, he embraced that sentiment with every molecule in his being.

Just... he wished that he could see you right now. When he checked the tag and saw all the cute pictures that people took of you and the sweet experiences they had with you, he frowned— That should be him!

However, Jake actually saw the worst thing to ever materialize when he saw the top video under the tag.

It was a shaky video, starting off with a teenage boy walking up to you. In the background, he could hear your pretty voice in the background, exchanging small greetings and words with the poster. Jake was almost lost in his sheer love for you when his eyes narrowed. The boy in the video let out a little chuckle, before dropping a cheesy pick-up line on you.

"[Name], if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber." What made it worse was that you only giggled, leading the boy to drop a few other dumb pick-up lines. The camera panned up to you, showing you all smiley and bashful. Then, you and the boy hugged, before taking a few polaroids together.

Jake almost snapped his phone in half.

He understood better than anyone that you were a content creator just like him. It was part of the job to interact with fans, and given your character, of course you were sweet to them. He could tell that you were perfectly comfortable in the video, and that the kid probably was just joking around with his favorite Youtuber.

But did that stop Jake from mentally lambasting every single aspect of the video? Absolutely not.

Shaky camera, probably filmed on a phone, Jake's hands balled into fists, Fucked up aperture, exposure to low, bad mic.

Was he being a little immature? Yes, and Jake knew that. 

Though, Jake would admit that he agreed with a lot of comments and retweets under that post, hearting many of them in agreement.

"[Name] is such a cutie!" one read.

Absolutely.

"I love her so much," another read.

Me too, Jake thought.

"I want her so bad."

Just as Jake's finger hovered over the 'heart' button, he let out a small hmph. Did it annoy him that other people wanted you? Yes. But did he disagree with the comment? Nope. He pressed the "like" button.

He wanted to see you so bad. As Jake was queued up on stage, ready for his second event, he hoped that he could see you soon.

And his wish came true a few hours later.

It was now past noon, and Vidcon was in its (unofficial) intermission period, where a lot of the creators were now taking breaks. As Jake traversed the convention, he texted you trying to find a spot where the two of you could meet.

He passed the many booths and venues of his fellow Youtubers. The layout was unique in the way that Youtubers of similar genres were placed in similar areas. So when he started seeing Youtubers with bright makeup and problematic pasts, Jake knew that he was near you.

And lo and behold, soon he found you. Under the fluorescent light, you still glowed. There was some kind of halo around you as you turned over your shoulder, your face instantly brightening up as you spotted your boyfriend. You had a few fans that you were talking to at the moment, so you tended to them first, while Jake made his way over to you.

You and Jake agreed that you wouldn't make your relationship too obvious at Vidcon, but all of that was left forgotten the moment that Jake saw you. 

However, as you ran up to him, people couldn't help but stop and stare.

Why wouldn't they? You were the living embodiment of Sanrio, that one Hello Kitty girl, whereas Jake was that one guy that made scary content and was often shrouded in darkness, dubbed as Youtube's personal Batman. Absolutely no one would have expected to see the two of you interacting with one another, let alone be within the same vicinity.

"Hi, Jakey," you smiled up at him, and Jake thought that he could die right there. With the amount of people staring, Jake had to restrain himself from throwing his arms around you and hugging you.

"Hey, baby," he grinned. 

Before either of you could do anything, you and Jake were interrupted by a shrill squeal. You whipped your heads around to see a young girl and her older brother, who still looked relatively young. They explained nervously that the girl liked your content, while the brother liked Jake's content. They were expecting to scour in order for each of them to meet either of you, but were surprised to see you and Jake in one place.

You and Jake took a few pictures with them, both individually. Though, the two of them requested a picture with both you and Jake in the same frame, which you happily did.

When they left, you and Jake shared a look, before going off together.

Vidcon Day 1: Over.

Jake returned to his hotel room, too tired to do anything other than wash up and order room service. 

As Jake laid in his half-hard hotel mattress, he scrolled through his phone. He was tagged in a lot of pictures and tweets, and he found himself grinning at a lot of the sweet words his fans left. Although he was tired, he could definitely do this a few more times, feeling invigorated by his fans.

As he scrolled, the trending Twitter hashtag caught his eye.

#HelloKittyMeetsBatman.

Interesting name, he thought as he clicked on it.

Jake's heart skipped a beat as he saw what came up.

Apparently, people were extremely surprised to see you and Jake so close to each other. 

There were so many pictures of you and him taken together from afar just from that one instance earlier, from multiple different angles and distances. Jake would admit, the way he was dressed in all black while you were dressed in cute pinks and whites was almost laughable.

What truly caught his attention were the captions of all these pictures.

"Craziest crossover of 2024."

"I'm crying they legitimately look like Hello Kitty and Batman."

"Jake Sim and [Name] interacting was not on my Vidcon 2024 bingo card."

"This is like seeing two worlds collide, absolutely wild but I'm pleasantly surprised."

For the most part, it seemed like everyone just thought that you and Jake were friends, but it was still a little funny how taken aback the entire internet was.

Then, he saw the picture of you, him, and those two kids together. 

"They look like a family," was one of the most popular retweets under that post. 

Family.

That word rang through Jake's head, before he buried his face in one of the pillows, giggling to himself. He felt a little ridiculous getting so excited over such a small comment, but he couldn't help it. He felt so giddy inside at the thought of having a family with you, and felt even giddier knowing that people could see it, too.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Jake wasn't going to answer it, too caught up in his flustered-ness, but when he realized that it was you, he quickly cleared his throat, instinctively straightening out his hair (because what if he accidentally turns on his camera?-- he needed to look good for you!).

"Baby," he greeted suavely, as if he wasn't just giggling like a schoolgirl seconds ago.

Maybe it was the fact that it was already getting late, or the fact that Jake barely saw you today, or the fact that you were just so goddamn perfect, but your voice sounded so attractive in that moment.

"Jakeyyy," you whined. "Come over."

His chest was already throbbing but Jake played it cool.

He chuckled. "What for?"

"I miss you," he could hear the pout in your voice. "And I want your attention."

It was rare for you to be so direct with him, and while Jake wanted to melt on the spot, he wanted to tease you a bit longer.

"What's wrong with just being on the phone with me?" Jake's lips pulled into a smirk. "You can just talk to me like this."

"Noooo," you said. "I want— I want you."

Jake tried his best to not crumble then and there, but it was too hard.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Okay then, baby. I'll come over right now."

He didn't miss the cute little "yay!" you let out before you hung up.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Eep! Jake, what are you doing here—?!”

You’re cut off when you realized that you were, in fact, backstage of one of your events. Today was the second day of Vidcon, and you had just finished up your first event. As you went backstage, carrying the little bags of gifts that your fans got you, you didn’t expect your own boyfriend to be waiting back there for you.

“Hey there, Princess,” he said cheekily, sprawled across the backstage couch. "Miss me?"

He opened his arms up, and you instinctively crawled into them, sitting on his lap and sliding your arms around his neck. 

As you did, you eyed him up and down.

Clad in black as always, he wore a black button-up, paired with black slacks, a black belt, and a loose, black tie. That's right: today, Jake was going to have a panel with a whole bunch of other horror creators, ones that transcended the internet— authors, authors that Jake spent his whole life reading and looking up to, which explained why he was dressed significantly more proper today than yesterday.

The way his shirt fit his chest and hugged his shoulders made it hard for you to not stare, and the way that it wasn't buttoned at the top, revealing his honey-tan collarbones, mixed with the scent of his rich cologne, made you feel dizzy.

"Ay, are you checkin' me out?"

On any other day, you'd be embarrassed, maybe even pushing him away, but today, you only nodded your head, humming mindlessly in agreement.

Jake blinked at you, before he pulled you in by the waist so that you were flushed against his chest completely.

"Kiss me," you mumbled, pushing his dark bangs away from his face.

Jake chuckled, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles. "What's with you these days? Getting so bold."

You only leaned into his touch. Maybe it was sometime in the LA air, or maybe it was the vigor that your fans gave you earlier, but all you could do was look at your boyfriend with glossy, wide eyes innocently, watching the way that his resolve trembled.

"Shit," Jake cursed under his breath. "Hold on—"

He grabbed your hips, then tilted your chin so that he could have a better angle. Your lips crashed into one another. Not in the way that a meteor would crash into Earth's delicate atmosphere, but in the way that gentle sea waves crashed onto themselves, dark folds of blue creasing over each other, only to brush up against the foamy seashore, none the wiser. 

Jake liked the taste of your lip gloss; it tasted sweet, but not nearly as sweet as you, hungrily squeezing your hips in his hands. He swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, earning a squeal from you, who tugged on his hair. 

When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, chests heaving not for air, but for each other. You stared at each other for a few moments, losing time in each other's eyes, when your eyes trailed down.

God, the button-up and tie were going to drive you crazy.

Without thought, your fingers twirled around his tie, slinking up his chest before you yanked him harshly, jerking Jake toward you abruptly. 

In a moment of pure, unadulterated boldness, you attacked his neck, laying sticky kisses all across his skin. One hand laced itself in Jake's hair, keeping a firm hold of his tilted head, while your other hand crept around the buttons of his shirt. 

Each soft sigh that Jake let out made you only press more kisses on him. When he let out one particularly loud whine, his arm jerking up to grab at the couch's armrest, you knew that you found the sensitive spot on his neck. You pressed another kiss on that spot, this time sinking your teeth into his skin. The hickey was dark and purple, and when you ran your tongue over it, Jake's hands shot to your hips again.

"Shit, [Name], wait a sec—"

Skillfully, your fingers began to slowly unbutton Jake's shirt, just enough that you could see more of his chest. 

Your head was feeling fuzzy now, drunk off your desire for him. The way he threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp of air he took in, curses falling from his lips, sent electricity coursing through your body.

When you unbuttoned the last button, you noticed the way Jake's eyes were squeezed shut, his other arm resting over them, hands balled into fists as his desperation for you increased.

"Jakey," you said. Jake was going to go mad, the way your voice was so soft and innocent as it said his name, all the while you were kissing and touching him in ways that made him go light-headed. He squeezed his eyes shut, another whimper escaping his lips. If he looked you in the eye right now, he was sure that he'd burst. "I want you to look at me."

He couldn't refuse you. Immediately, he opened his eyes, the arm strewn over his face dropping back to its position on your hips.

If he didn't die by combustion, Jake was certain that he'd die now— Your pupils were blown out, eyes lidded and staring at him like he was your prey to be slaughtered. He'd seen you wrought with desire so many times before, but the way you gazed at him like he was a piece of meat, like you were going to absolutely ruin him, made him feel weak.

"Watch me, Jakey," your voice sounded so sweet, but your actions said otherwise. You abruptly got up from your seat on his lap, Jake frowning at the loss of your touch. You dug through your purse thrown across the room, returning with a tube of lipstick.

You plopped back onto Jake's lap, making sure that he was watching as you applied it to your pretty, swollen lips. 

Then, you discarded it, throwing your lipstick to the side as you snatched his tie again. You brought the black fabric to your lips, staring your boyfriend down as you pressed kisses on his tie. You kissed it a few times, making sure that the color of your lipstick, as well as the shape of your lips, was well-imprinted on it.

Then, you yanked his shirt's collar toward you, pressing a harsh kiss on the fabric, making sure that the shape of your lips was once again imprinted on the fabric.

You looked back up at his face, unable to hide your smugness as his entire expression was painted with red.

"You're so hot—" Jake attempted to force out of his throat, but you only cut him off with a rough kiss to his lips. Without a word, you covered his face, from his forehead to his jaw, with kisses.

You pulled back to admire your work, before you pulled away from him.

"I have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said quietly, your back turned to him as you straightened out your skirt. Dumbfounded, Jake could only stare at you, but when you turned over your shoulder, flashing him a bright, but terribly cheeky, grin, Jake's heart fell out of chest. "I can't be late, right?"

With that, you left your boyfriend, all hot and bothered, on the couch, running off to prepare for your next event.

Almost immediately, Jake melted. He threw an arm over his eyes as he leaned back, letting out a groan.

Was this how you felt when he teased you?

Was he now sexually frustrated? Absolutely. But now he wanted you even more.

After mulling over it for a few minutes, Jake began to go back to his venue. But, as he passed the backstage vanity, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Some of it was obvious to him already: disheveled hair, messed up shirt. But what made Jake want to evaporate was the sight of his entire face and neck covered in lipstick marks. The corner of his lip had a big lipstick smudge, the hickey that you gave him earlier was so dark now, and he couldn't even dare to forget your lip imprints on his shirt and tie.

You little tease.

Jake's last straw was.... right now.

After the backstage fiasco, he didn't get to see you all day. That night, you had a PR event to attend with your fellow beauty creators, so he didn't get to see you at night either.

Which was why Jake was practically glowing with a dark and negative storm cloud as he pranced around the third day of Vidcon. It didn't help that he saw so many pictures of you and fans all across platforms. Poor guy almost lost it when one of your fans' vlogs blew up, the most replayed part being when you let out the most angelic and sweet laughs he'd ever heard in his life.

That should be him!

Meanwhile, Jake sat in the convention room at a panel. Lined up along the table were other horror creators, from authors to Youtubers to filmmakers, similar to yesterday. The way that this specific event operated was simple: fans got to ask anyone on the panel questions and they'd answer, which the entire room got to hear, and later there would be one-on-ones along the panel.

Jake was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the fans said that they had a question for him.

"Jake, your videos take a long time to make, how do you balance work and your personal life?"

Good question. He had a simple principle when it came to how to balance everything. Jake thought about it for a moment, before reaching for his microphone.

"I don't have any outright method," he began. Jake's mind flashed with your image: all the cute messages you'd send him throughout the day, all the times where after hours of rotting in front of his computer screen he could always count on your loving embrace to give him life, all times that he'd tune into your Spotify playlist so that he could be listening to what you were listening. It was easy to balance work and life, if it was you. "But I always put my life before the screen."

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

"To be clear, I understand the privilege of getting to work in a profession like mine," Jake continued. "I don't expect everyone to be able to follow my advice exactly, but the more I live, the more I realize that what happens before my very eyes will endlessly matter so much more than what happens in my own little Youtube bubble."

Jake's mouth jumped to you faster than his mind could stop him.

"My beautiful girlfriend is everything to me," he unconsciously began to grin stupidly to himself, "I'd put her above work any day if I had to."

The moment that those words left his lips, the room erupted with gasps and whispers.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend?!" one of Jake's Youtuber friends asked, leading the room to laugh.

Oh.

Shit.

Jake's eyes visibly widened. He clutched his microphone, bringing it up to his mouth, but no words came out.

There was no way in hell that he'd outright deny you, not even in a million years.

"I.... Well..." Jake stammered, trying his best to generate any words at all. He sucked in a sharp breath, a bashful expression making its way onto his face. "That's..."

The room filled with more laughter, alongside the teasing grins and pats on the back that Jake got from his colleagues.

"Oh, so that's what you were giggling about yesterday, lover boy..." Jay, also on the panel, quipped, his brows raised so high on his forehead that it could have touched his hairline.

"Sh-Shut up, Jay!"

Jake's chest felt fizzy. In a weird way.

A part of him felt on-edge. You and him always wanted to keep your relationship secret, for the sake of preserving it. He'd seen what the Internet did to relationships: it tore them apart. It wasn't like he name-dropped you, but he felt so... exposed, so vulnerable.

But at the same time, Jake felt his chest also swell with pride. That's right. He had a girlfriend (a hot girlfriend at that), a girlfriend that he was nefariously down bad for. He hoped everyone knew that, that he was taken and that if there was anyone that he'd spend the rest of his life with, it would be you.

Jake huffed. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend. What about it?"

No one questioned him further. Probably out of fear.

You were in the middle of trying your best to get through a conversation with some beauty guru that you knew one thing about: their personal makeup line launch failed horribly and they gave everyone hairy lipsticks. It was difficult, to say the least.

Exchanging your final regards, you quickly rushed back to your booth.

The first thing you saw when you checked your phone was a viral video, in which Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend. Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you initially read the caption, but when you watched the video, you had a difficult time processing your feelings.

Did you hate that Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend? … No, you didn’t. You didn’t at all. At a certain point, seeing the way that your boyfriend smiled so earnestly made your heart jump out of your chest. The way he was so giddy and smiley (of course, only you could tell that that was how he was feeling— to everyone else it probably looked like he was brooding) made your neck and cheeks warm up.

But, the way that the room erupted with voices and laughter, combined with the quirked brows of everyone on the panel, made you quiver.

You weren’t prepared for it, for how vulnerable you felt as a chorus of “ooh’s” filled the room.

Frankly, there were too many things that you had to focus on at the moment. You'd rather enjoy Vidcon now, and address it later, when things settle down. 

Pushing it to the back of your mind, you tucked your phone away, greeting another wave of fans. Though, not without taking an extra second to "heart" the post, adding it to your favorites folder, and rewatching the video one more time, feeling warmth and giddiness filling your chest.

As the cool night air kissed your cheeks, you fought the shy smile that seeped onto your face. It was late now, late enough that you could see all the city lights gleaming, lighting up the dark sky with blotches of all different colors.

There was a Vidcon party for creators, to celebrate the end of the event. Everyone was going. Although it was meant for any creator, there was a very exclusive VIP section; only those of high prestige could get in. Both you and Jake were invited, but upon realizing that nearly the entire hotel complex would be empty due to the popularity of the party, the two of you ditched it.

You'd been wanting to go to the rooftop hottub for a while now, but you never went because you wanted to go with Jake, and it was always too crowded for the two of you to go there comfortably. But now that everyone was gone, it was the perfect time.

Your boyfriend was already waiting for you up there, towel thrown over his shoulder with a shirt and swim trunks. His face lit up the moment he saw yours emerging from the elevator doors, rushing over to you to take your hands.

He paused for a moment. His dark eyes peered at yours, licking his lips before sucking in a sharp breath. Jake gave your forehead a peck, before saying a small "C'mon" and pulling you over to the hottub.

Jake took your towel for you, folding it next to his and perching it on a sunchair.

"They're gonna get off fireworks soon— Oh, damn," he cut himself off as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing a bikini top. Your face scrunched up, squirming under his gaze. It's not like Jake has never seen you like this (in fact, he'd seen you in much more compromising positions), and it wasn't like he never complimented you, but as the hottub bubbled, the rosy scent of the water filling the air, you felt shy.

Jake slinked toward you, taking his own shirt off. 

"Hey there, Gorgeous," he said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts that had yet to be taken off. Your heart pounded in your chest, fighting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and groan in embarrassment. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. Jake chuckled softly, before clutching your chin gently, making you look up at him.

"Don't get shy on me now, babe," Jake grinned when your lips pressed into an unconscious pout. He squished your cheek, relishing in the look of confusion painted across your face. Then, his hands fell to your hips, pulling them toward his. "You look so beautiful."

Jake's fingers hooked onto the hem of your shorts, meeting your eyes for permission before pulling them down himself, revealing your bikini bottoms.

Jake's eyes glazed over your figure, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Jaaakee," you whined, squeezing his hands.

"Sorry," Jake's eyes flickered up to your face. "I can't help it. You're just so hot, baby."

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub.

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub. 

The two of you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water, you felt your limbs relax. 

Vidcon was very fun, some of the most fun you've had in a while. But, it was very tiring, having to be around so many people at a time. And plus, it was hard not seeing your boyfriend whenever you wanted.

You pulled your knees to your chest. You could hear the loud techno music a few blocks away, probably coming from the club nearby. The bright night lights of LA was something that you could only imagine sleeping under.

Other than the sound of the city bustles, the hot tub’s jet system, and the occasional ripple of water, the night was silent.

“How was your day?” Jake broke the calm silence. The way the blueish water reflected off his skin made you dizzy.

“Good,” You cursed your voice for being so small. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. It was your boyfriend, for goodness’s sake!

Jake loved it when you were shy, but sometimes he was genuinely worried about you. Part of why he loved you was the game that was trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

He reached out for you, clutching your knee. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Your stomach churned. For a second, you thought about that video of him admitting that he had a girlfriend. It made your skin crawl, but when your boyfriend squeezed your knee, it all stopped.

"Nothing," you said simply.

There's a few pulses of silence, before Jake clicked his tongue.

"H-Hey—!"

Jake got up from the water, wrapping his hands around your waist, and hoisted you up so that your legs were thrown on either side of the body, before sitting back down so that you were perched right on top of his lap.

Your chest, nearly bare, pressed against his own bare chest in a way that made your heart race. The warmth of his skin as it contacted yours was an addicting feeling, enhanced only by the warm water surrounding you. Either it was the steam from the tub, or the heat collecting between the two of your bodies, that rose to your cheeks.

You rested your hands on his chest, your fingertips barely reaching his broad shoulders, while Jake’s hands stayed in their spot around your waist.

"C'mon," you could feel Jake's warm, strong chest rumble beneath you. "Tell me what's wrong."

Under the sky, his eyes gleamed, like two gems. For the flirt that he was, Jake was too genuine and pure of a person. The sincere worry in his eyes made you feel warm, even warmer than you felt right now. And sometimes that was enough for you.

You leaned into him, your hands coming up to cup his face. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks, to which he let his eyelids fall shut, relishing in the comfort that was your presence. Every time your thumb pressed against his lips, he kissed them, unable to hide the smile growing on his lips when you giggled softly.

At the corner of your eye, you spotted the purple hickey you left on him the other day. That combined with his wet hair, the water droplets temptingly running down his chest, and the fact that you were right on top of him made you feel light-headed.

Your hands left his face, and Jake opened his mouth to whine about it, but was shut up when your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss.

It was a soft, innocent kiss, the type you gave when you just wanted to be close to him. Jake hummed against your lips, squeezing your thighs. You pulled away first, but Jake gently guided the back of your head back to his, pecking your lips.

"I just missed you," you said. You kissed his cheek. "I really missed you."

"It's only been a day," Jake teased you, but he knew better than anyone that he had absolutely no right to say that to you: he was practically dying each moment he couldn't see you.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. You held onto his strong shoulders, eyes glued to his lips. You were feeling needy, needy in the way that you simply wanted to be close to Jake. You were already close to him, but you wanted to be even closer. Your heart thirsted for it.

Then, you heard a rustle, whipping your head around toward the sound.

"Nuh-uh," Jake whispered in your ear, gently holding your face and guiding it to look at him. "I want you to look at me."

It wasn't until a few seconds later that you understood why Jake's tone sounded so teasing: he was referencing you and him the other day backstage. 

"Stoppp," you whined, pushing your face into his neck. "You're so annoying."

Jake laughed, his chest rumbling. He stopped to admire the way you were all pressed up against him. He could feel every curve of your body, and he could feel the way your cheeks puffed with air, your lips forming a pout. He poked your cheek.

"You're so cute, baby."

"I know."

"What's with you getting so bold?"

"You're annoying me."

"Awww, you love me so—"

Fireworks fired off in the distance, painting the gray-blue sky with bright colors. 

You stayed in your position, only your eyes moving upward to admire the show. However, Jake stayed staring straight at you, practically ignoring the fiery flowers forming in the sky. He gazed into your eyes, watching the reflection in them.

"It's so pretty," you murmur.

"Yeah," Jake felt like he was falling into your eyes, "So pretty."

Just as another round of fireworks shot up into the sky, Jake grabbed your face, crashing his lips onto yours. Your lips fit into each other well, like puzzle pieces, in a way that was so satisfying, almost like you were made for kissing Jake. But for all of the desire and roughness that the kiss was filled with, it was a soft one. 

Jake swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, making you squeal and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands kneaded your body, roaming all over you with no intention of leaving a single part of your skin untouched. Likewise, you gripped his biceps, digging your nails into his skin to keep yourself grounded.

"Fuck—" Jake mumbled against your lips, only to get cut off by your lips attacking his— "Wait—"

Jake tasted sweet, like candy. He tasted like home, like love, like everything was going to be okay no matter what. How could you pull away now? 

"B-Baby, wait—"

"Stop talking, Jakey," you pulled away briefly, only to bite his lip, pulling on the pink flesh with your teeth. You let your tongue roam his mouth, feeling the warmth as your own hands began to wander his toned chest. 

"Just kiss me," you breathed.

You kept Jake like this for a few more minutes, trapping him in the heaven that was your lips. But when your bikini top began to untie at the back, something that Jake noticed immediately, he ripped away from you.

Something in his eyes had changed.

Quietly, he tied your bikini top back for you, ignoring your confused (and very breathless) gaze.

"If you keep doing what you do to me," he began into your ear, "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

With that, Jake threw you over his shoulder as he hoisted himself up to his feet. He grabbed everything that you brought to the rooftop, throwing your towel over you and ignoring you fussing.

"W-Where are we goin—?!"

"Back to my room."

You were in for a night.

You and Jake were going to stay in LA for a little while longer after Vidcon, so you extended your stay in the same hotel rooms.

After last night, Jake and you fell asleep in his bed. 

It was going to be the best, Jake thought. Neither of you had anywhere to be, anyone to put on a show for. The two of you could sleep in for as long as you'd like. It didn't really matter to him, as long as he could wake up with you in his arms, he'd be all right.

Which is why Jake's heart dropped to his stomach when he woke up to you already dressed, pacing around the room nervously.

"Baby?" Jake was alarmed, even as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Baby, what happened?"

You whipped your head over to him, your expression pinch and painted with anxiety. 

"Check your phone," you muttered as you chewed your lip.

Jake did as you said. The moment he opened up his phone, his screen was filled with text messages from everyone: his colleagues, his friends, heck even his own mother. He was tagged in about a thousand posts all across his social media accounts, and his Youtube home page was plastered with his face. But not only his face. Your face too.

What caught his eye was an article from a major Internet news source that made its round across every platform.

Its headline?

Jake Sim and [Name] [Last Name] are reported to be dating.

The worst part was the cover page.

It was a photo of you and Jake, together in the hottub last night, with your arms thrown around his neck with your lips connected. When he read more into it, the photo evidence got more and more specific. Close-up pictures of Jake's neck to reveal a hickey and lipstick mark on his shirt, your smudged lipstick, a screenshot of the Sanrio plush in one of his videos, even that clip of his laugh in the background of one of your videos. Of course, the most crucial one was that clip of Jake admitting that he had a girlfriend.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For everyone to know about you, to be able to show you off.

Objectively, this was bound to happen.

But as Jake watched you pace around, your hands shaking as you looked like you were about to cry, he didn't feel the pride that he thought he would feel if everyone knew. He didn't feel happy, he didn't feel excited that he got to show you off. All he felt was a mix of guilt and anger.

And before he could reach out to hold your hand and pull you close, you quietly said that you were going to go on a walk, and left the hotel room.

The quiet that filled the hotel room was piercing. Jake stilled in his spot, still groggy and disheveled.

Had he always been like this?

He swore that at the beginning of your relationship, he took every measure to keep it private. Because you asked him to. Because he respected you.

Why did he throw it all away? 

He agreed to keep things private. 

But now he put you in an uncomfortable position and an even more vulnerable position than you'd ever been in before. 

Was he a bad boyfriend? Were you going to break up with him? Would your relationship with him ever be the same? That made Jake's heart palpitate. He couldn't lose you. No, he'd die. But then again, he fucked up, he knew that.

Jake ran a hand through his hair. This was an asshole move.

But he couldn't help feeling his fingers twitch for his phone when it ding'd.

The first thing he saw when he opened up Twitter were tweets at him.

And they were surprisingly... supportive?

"Emo boyfriend, cute girlfriend, the best combo!"

"Sending love to both of you. Hope you're doing well. We support you."

"I'm very pleasantly surprised."

"This is literally like Hello Kitty and Batman meeting this is crazy"

But as he scrolled deeper, he found more obscure comments.

"Feel so bad for [Name]. Her boyfriend is a freak."

"He doesn't deserve her."

And the nail in the coffin:

"No wonder they kept it a secret. I'd hide it too if someone like that was my boyfriend."

Why did you keep your relationship with him secret? Jake knew the answer to that: you just wanted to keep your personal life private.

But as Jake plunged himself deeper and deeper into the hole that was the media, he could only imagine alternative answers, and one stuck out.

Were you ashamed of him? 

Of course you would be.

You were beautiful in every capacity and just the most perfect person in the world. And Jake was just himself. You were always cute, and sometimes, Jake felt like he couldn't keep up with you. You were far out of his league. His content was considered "niche" and "obscure," of course people, maybe even you, considered him a freak.

He was a bastard, and you were a princess. He didn't blame you for being embarrassed about him.

That's why you were so anxious and against your relationship being exposed, right?

No, no, no!

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Jake thought, his hands balling into fists. You wouldn't. He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you would never be embarrassed about him. You weren't like that, and he was a fool for even thinking of you in that way. He was being insecure and stupid.

But even so, as Jake let all the guilt, shame, anger, and anxiety settle in while he thought of an apology to you, he couldn't help but feel his insecurity seeping in.

You knew that you were overreacting. You shouldn't have left Jake in there all alone, you should have sat down and talked to him about it.

But there was something scary about having everybody's eyes on you at once, scorning you. You were a Youtuber, of course you knew what it felt like to be watched, but to have the entire internet so hellbent about your personal life made you jump into your own skin.

You just took a walk along the early city streets, you reflected upon yourself.

Why did you keep your relationship with Jake secret? 

Part of it was privacy. You didn't want the internet to interfere with your personal life, of course. 

But it wasn't like you wanted to hide your love for your boyfriend forever. It wasn't like you wanted to stow him away somewhere no one could find him. You were both adults, and you had to start living at some point.

You'd be lying if you said that you never thought about making a cute video with him, if you said you never wanted to post a cheesy anniversary picture on Instagram with a long caption just for him, if you said you never wanted the world to know that Jake Sim was yours.

You remembered the first time you and Jake talked about keeping it private. He was unsure, but because he cared so much about you, he agreed. Had you ever stopped to think about how he felt? You may have wanted to keep your relationship quiet, but did he? To a degree, there was something selfish about you, both now and in the past. You wanted to preserve yourself and your feelings, but you never even considered how Jake felt.

You were afraid, you felt vulnerable and too exposed to the world. But you cared far more about Jake than those fleeting emotions. Desire outweighed fear, you had to see him now.

But as you marched back to your hotel, your mind racing as you came up with paragraphs of words that you'd spill to Jake, you began to notice your worst nightmare.

A group of men, each with massive cameras that had even bigger microphones. 

They called themselves the paparazzi, but they were really only middle-aged men that made money off of being invasive towards people half their age.

Maybe you should have worn a hat, or something, as you were in a camera-infested area that was even more infested with celebrities and influencers. As they approached you, you quickened your steps, trying to get as far as you could from them. You tried your best not to make eye-contact, but alas, they got to you before you could escape.

"[Name]?" one of them called out your name, practically running to you.

Oh my god, you thought, ignoring them as you sped up. Please not right now.

"[Name], are you dating Jake Sim?" The sound of your boyfriend's name out of their mouths made your stomach churn. You kept walking, but you could feel them pointing their massive cameras at you, taking any measure to make a buck off of you.

You had a few choices.

You could make a run for it. Though, you had about six men double your age who would probably chase you down.

You could also give in to them, and give very vague answers. That would require a lot of patience, and simply, you wanted to go kiss your boyfriend, not talk to these so-called paparazzis.

Your last option was the one that seemed the most appealing, but could stir the pot of the media even more and it would give the tabloids what they wanted: you could tell them off and shut them down completely. The only issue was that you were the cutesy, sweet, Sanrio Hello Kitty girl. You've talked about adult topics before, but for you to be hostile and mean to another person? That was completely unheard of to anyone on the Internet. It would also be very reactive, and the media could twist that into something more.

But you wanted to get out of there.

You wanted to go see Jake. If you had to throw a few curse words at people if it meant that you could go home to Jake, then you'd use every curse under the sun.

"[Name], everyone is saying that your relationship with Jake Sim is real and not a publicity stunt. Any comment on that-?"

You were getting irritated.

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder.

"Will you fuck off?" Your gaze hardened on the group of men shoving cameras in your faces. You didn't even bother looking into the lens. "It's 10 in the morning, I don't have time for this."

"We didn't mean to offend you, [Name], we just wanted to know your relationship with Jake Si—"

You huffed to yourself, rolling your eyes. They loved acting polite only to violate your privacy. 

"Cut the bullshit, okay?" you narrowed your eyes. You were only a few meters from the hotel entrance, and they were still stalking you with their massive cameras. How shameless. 

Your anger was bubbling up inside you. It was rising, rising so much that you could feel it attempting to spill out of your mouth.

"You want to make a quick buck off of me so bad?" You stepped through the hotel doorway.

If the media was so curious about your life, and if they wanted to go so far as to try to disrupt your relationship, you wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

Everyone loved seeing what you were doing, everyone loved to watch you. It was your job to put on a show, to give people what they wanted. If you wanted to live, then you'd have to accept that.

You were an influencer, a micro-celebrity. You could make tides move if you wanted to. Why be so fearful of the eyes of so many?

But more than anything, you were a performer. And if that's what they wanted from you, that's what they'll get.

"Fine," you huffed. "I'll give you a story: me and Jake have been together for six years. In fact, we met each other in high school when he was my Physics lab partner. Go investigate that, won't you?"

With that, you slammed the hotel entrance door in their faces.

Jake swore he heard the trumpets of heaven when the hotel room door cracked open, revealing you.

He'd been waiting in front of it for a while now, and he jerked up immediately as he saw your face. He jumped right to his feet, ready to spill every word he thought of on you. You deserved an explanation.

But all you did was raise your hand, silencing him instantly. Instead, you took off your shoes, took his arm, and pulled him with you to the bed. You motioned for him to lay down, and did so yourself.

Jake stared at you like you were insane. Were you not going to yell at him? Why weren't you hitting him or telling him that you wanted to break up with him? Should he be on his knees begging you to stay at this point? But he complied (because of course he did, it was you).

You laid on his chest in silence, pressing your cheek up against him. 

That made his mind wander.

Maybe you were trying to ease him into a hard conversation. Maybe you were going to forget this until later.

He didn't want that. No, you deserved to hear what he had to say. If you were going to leave him, Jake wanted to say everything that he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Jake blurted. The silence was deafening, before you took a deep breath, turning over onto your stomach so that your chin laid on his chest.

"What for?"

The gentle look in your eye as you looked at him made Jake choke up himself. He had to hold back or he'd start sobbing.

"For going against your wishes a-and..." Jake searched through his mind for all the words he practiced, but nothing came to mind. Not with you looking at him like you still loved him. "And for telling people about our relationship. I—I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry for disrespecting the promise w-we made.... And... And—"

Jake sucked in a loud, sharp breath. His eyes were getting watery. He took your hands in his, squeezing them. 

"And I know that you're ash—ashamed of me, and I know that y-you won't— you won't want to be with me anymore, but—"

"Wait what?" you interrupted him, squeezing hands back. "I'm not ashamed of you, Jakey."

Jake stared at you.

Jakey.

"I'm not breaking up with you either. What makes you think that?"

The gate that was holding back Jake's emotions broke.

Jake let the tears that he tried so hard to hold back roll down his face. He let out a sob before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

You didn't hate him? You still wanted to be with him?

You instantly threw your leg over his hips, straddling him as you pulled his head to your chest. He melted into your touch, his wet face hiding in the crook of your neck. You pet his hair, pressing kisses to the crown of his head.

"Baby," you whispered into his ear gently. "Why are you crying?"

Jake's crying only got louder, and you couldn't help but giggle. He was a total softie. The way his hold around you tightened told you enough.

Jake sniffled through his words, cutting himself off every now and then with a hiccup and more sobs. "Th-Thought you were gonna l-leave me."

Your fingers stopped in his hair. "Leave you? Why would I?"

Jake pushed his face back into your shoulder, shaking his head.

You let him cry like that for a little while longer, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear as you patted his back. 

And when he was ready, the two of you talked it out, because that's what people did when they loved each other. You exchanged apologies, explained to each other your thought processes, and created an agreement: start anew, and you both didn’t mind that your relationship was now public, and if either of you disagreed, you had to voice it immediately. You ended it with a kiss.

You clicked the camera on, checking in the viewfinder that you were in-frame. You were back at home, the pink Hello Kitty decorations in your room, as well as the scent of strawberries, surrounding you. 

“Hi, everyone!” you smiled brightly, clasping your hands together. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all. How are you?”

You chatted about a few updates since Vidcon, telling about your wonderful experience there and how you were so happy to meet all your fans.

“Now, onto the video!”

You peered to the side, where you spotted Jake sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting intently for your cue.

“Oh, Jakey!” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Come out now!”

With that, Jake popped into frame, dorkily saying a quick hi before plopping down onto the chair beside you.

“Today, I will be doing my boyfriend’s makeup!” you chirped happily. “Are you ready, boyfriend?”

The two of you shared a grin.

“Of course, girlfriend.”

[peachylynnie]

garlic

word count: 1.4k

synopsis: in which sylus feeds you too much garlic.

contains: sylus x reader (doesn't have to be mc, gender neutral), an obscene amount of garlic (slight crack fic), mentions of cooking, eating, and love of food, suggestive at the end, and cussing.

a/n: i was rewatching wgm the other day and the male star did this to the female star. couldn't help but feel inspired to write this for sylus since he would totally tease us. do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs and comments always appreciated :)

you love sylus' cooking. even before you started dating, you always thought his cooking was immaculate—so immaculate you can't help but wonder why he even had a private chef. rich people shenanigans, you like to conclude. you also wonder if rich people put a lot of garlic in their food. because there are a shit ton of garlic slices on the linguine pasta sylus just served you.

by no means are you a picky eater. heck, you love garlic. it's a blessing to humankind. garlic bread, fried rice, pesto, you name it. so many foods have garlic in them, and you enjoy all of them. but this? this was way too much.

sylus raises a brow as he sits next to you, wondering why you haven't picked up your fork yet. "something wrong, sweetie?"

"what's with the garlic, sylus?" you turn to face him, leaning back in the leather high chair.

he looks at your plate, then back at you. "is there something wrong with the garlic?" picking up his own fork, he goes to inspect your food. you stop him by holding his wrist.

"no," you shake your head, laughing a little. "it's just... this is a LOT of garlic." you nudge your head towards the incredibly noticeable pile of garlic slices. "did the tutorial really call for this much?"

sylus chuckles, returning to his own plate. meticulously, he twirls the pasta with his fork, leaving you to admire his sturdy forearms. not only do you love sylus' cooking, but you also love WHEN he cooks. why? because this absolute godsend, silver-haired, ruby-eyed, strong-nosed, supple-lipped, and deep-voiced of a man rolls up his sleeves when he cooks. his veins protrude and his muscles flex whenever he chops some vegetables with a knife. you don't pity the buttons that hold on for dear life to keep his sleeves together whenever he maneuvers a pan. resting an elbow on the kitchen island, you set your head on your hand to admire the current view.

you're taken aback when sylus holds up his fork to your mouth. normally, you would gush at such an action. the ruthless and relentless head of onychinus, offering YOU the first bite of HIS food. oh, you would happily accept, eager to taste absolute heaven in your mouth because sylus always makes great food. but, this time, you frown, noticing the mini TOWER of garlic slices on top of the noodles wrapped around his fork.

"i didn't take you for a picky eater, sweetie." sylus teases as he tilts his head. your jaw drops, flabbergasted by such an accusation. not that there's anything wrong with being a picky eater; it's just that sylus should know you by now. he's cooked for you plenty of times before. he's seen you eat plenty of times before. he should know by now you generally enjoy most food, and it takes a lot for you to even hesitate to pick up a utensil.

"i'm not picky," you cross your arms, a slight pout forming on your lips. "there's just too much garlic."

"there's no such thing as too much garlic," sylus quips. as if to further prove his point, he lifts the fork closer to your mouth. you begrudgingly accept, not without giving him a look, of course, because only you would accept a mouthful of garlic offered by sylus himself.

it's not necessarily bad. that's the first thought you have when you close your mouth. except you immediately change your mind after you bite down. holy shit, it's just straight garlic. you grimace, immediately uncrossing your arms to cover your mouth. you can't even taste the linguine. groaning, you try not to spit out the food. no matter how bad a dish may be, you wholeheartedly believe it's rude to spit it out in front of the person who made it. furthermore, this was sylus we're talking about; you're fricking boyfriend. you scrunch your shoulders as you painfully swallow, instantly reaching over the counter for a glass of water. after you relieve your mouth of garlic hell (it didn't help at all), you face sylus, glaring at him with all your might.

"that's too much garlic!" you snap, using one hand to slap sylus' shoulder and another to cover your mouth, overwhelmed by the smell. trying to ignore sylus' snickers, you drink more water. this motherfucker dares to laugh at your agony. you swear the next time he calls you over for some parmesan garlic linguine, you're going to tell him to shove a garlic braid up his ass.

"oh come on, sweetie," sylus jests as he twirls some more noodles with his fork before offering them to you again. "it can't be that bad."

you look at him with wide eyes. there's no way he's serious right now. "why don't YOU try then?"

"gladly," sylus says smugly. he takes a bite and lets out an obnoxious "mmm!" you scoff when he goes back for a second bite, unable to believe the audacity he has.

"there's no way it tastes that good," you say as you jerk your head away, determined to stay mad at him. "you just want to flatter your cooking."

"you're missing out," sylus says nonchalantly as he takes another bite. "besides, garlic is good for your health. it can provide a lot of strength. in fact, laborers were fed garlic back then, so they could have enough stamina. "

you roll your eyes. of course, he brings health into this. not that there's nothing wrong with it. you actually admire how much sylus takes care of himself. he's quite the competent man. but you know what he's doing. he's making fun of you. your eyes can't help but twitch as you look down at your plate. good for your health, my ass. no way an entire plate (sylus has massive plates by the way) topped with heaps of garlic is good for anyone. not even five serving spoons can rid your plate of its garlic slices.

suddenly, you get an idea.

"hey, sylus," you say as you reach over the counter for the serving spoon he used earlier to serve your plate. "since you like your linguine soooo much, mind if i feed you?"

sylus doesn't look up from his plate, clearly too occupied with his own making. "sure, sweetie."

you giggle, setting the spoon against the edge of your plate before scraping only the garlic slices onto it. given how much garlic there was, it doesn't take long for you to fill the giant spoon with it—garlic and garlic only.

"don't do that."

"don't do what?" you don't stop scraping.

"that," sylus answers as he warily eyes the spoon your hand is now holding up to his face. that was, indeed, too much garlic.

"come onnnn," it's your turn to tease. "there's no such thing as too much garlic, right? besides, it's good for your health. what good is the head of onychinus if he doesn't have enough stamina?"

"i have plenty of stamina," sylus insists. "and that," he juts his chin towards the spoon, "is too much stamina."

you snort as you nudge the spoon closer, ignoring him entirely. "say ah! eat and gain lots of stamina! you need it!" you chirp as you lift your free hand and extend it underneath the spoon, hoping to catch any stray slices.

sylus' eyes flicker from the spoon to your face. he leans in, acting as if he's going to listen to you. though, not before asking, "where will i use all this stamina? will you use it with me?"

you choke, immediately retracting the spoon. "what?!" you dump all of the garlic back onto the plate, avoiding the amused look on sylus' face and also the imagery of exciting... stamina-related activities involving him. "pervert," you grumble, a rosy hue appearing on your cheeks.

"i was talking about training, sweetie," he smirks.

no fucking way. you gape at him, not believing a single word.

sylus stifles a laugh, enjoying the hilarious expression on your face. look at you, so cutely flustered over the idea of taking your relationship to the next level. yes, he was talking about whatever was going on in that head of yours. no, he wasn't talking about training. but hiding such a fact was worth it, given your embarrassed state. wanting to admire your adorable face some more, sylus grips your chin before tilting it up.

"although, i'm not against what you have in mind, sweetie."

[daisies-daydreams]

TWST Housewardens During Your Period (Headcanons)

Header Credit: Disney Pairing: Multi Scenario x F!Reader Category: Fluff/Light Angst Tags: Depictions of Periods/PMS, Mentions of Body Issues, Physical Affection, Non-Sexual Nudity (Leona's Part), Vil/Leona Being Rude, Tooth-Rotting Fluff Word Count: 1.3k+ Summary: Your boyfriend helps you cope with that time of the month in his own way. A/N: I was inspired by my ancient Fire Force headcanons to make one for TWST! I hope you enjoy! 😊 (Headcanons below the cut)

Riddle Rosehearts, whose face gets as red as his hair when he realizes what you mean when you say you're experiencing "that time of the month". Sure, he's heard of periods...but he's not exactly well-equipped to help someone who has them.

He hesitantly asks for advice from his close friends, his arms crossed and gaze awkwardly shifting around the room. Despite the discomfort he feels talking about the subject, he wants to make sure his darling is well taken care of. You're surprised when he returns to you with every pad, tampon and cup known to mankind, stating that he's "ready to help".

His face grows even more red when you smile and kiss his cheek, telling him you appreciate his kind heart. After he gets more in a routine of helping you through your period, he'll start making you hot, fresh tea for you to sit back and relax with. He also enjoys reading to you, his voice lulling you to sleep as he smiles softly and kisses the top of your head.

༺♥༻

Leona Kingscholar, who is the embodiment of the "what pussy size you wear?" meme. But in all seriousness, he knows when it's getting closer to your time of the month since you'll want to cuddle more during his long nap sessions (not that he minds). He'll keep his strong arms curled around your stomach as the two of you spend a lazy day in bed.

While he initially starts your relationship with a "tough love" attitude, being with you during your period helps teach him how to be more empathetic and caring with his S/O. Leave it to Leona to accidentally say something insensitive, only for his ears to lower as you begin to cry or send a harsh, silent glare at him.

However, if there's one thing he is good at, it's making sure to spoil you with a nice, long bubble bath. He'll gently massage all the aches and knots out of your muscles before pulling you against him, his chin resting on top of your head as he relaxes with you after a long day (just don't be surprised if he falls asleep).

༺♥༻

Azul Ashengrotto, who grows worried when he finds you curled up on his couch in his private office at the Monstro Lounge. He frowned when you sniffed and told him you felt "fat", a sentiment he relates to a little too well (for different reasons, of course). He'll gently sit beside you, his voice calm and soothing as he gently reassures you that, no matter your size, you're absolutely gorgeous. Azul will remind you as many times as you need, whether it's ten or a thousand times.

Despite his divided attention between the lounge and his role at NRC, he's more than willing to set time aside to spend it with you. Whether you want to watch a movie, go to your favorite restaurant, or just rest in bed, he swears to be there for you as much as he can.

His favorite thing to do is surprise you by cleaning up for you (with a little help from two eel brothers, *cough* *cough*). Need your dishes done? They're washed, dried and put away. Laundry still in the hamper? It's already finished and hung up in your closet. Every surface of your living space is immaculate by the time he's done, and the look of relief on your face always giving him a soft, warm smile.

༺♥༻

Idia Shroud, who nearly passes out when you message him that you're experiencing the most brutal cramps of your life and you ran out of pads and pain medicine at the worst possible time. Being the amazing boyfriend that he is, he opted to disguise himself to go in public and buy you some (sunglasses and all).

Despite not telling you, he went ahead and created an app that keeps track of your ovulation cycle. Not to be weird...but to make sure he's kept up-to-date on what to expect and when he's going to preorder your favorite snacks, pads/tampons/cups, and other essentials (Side Note: I stand by the headcanon that he gets his S/O plushies to cheer them up).

If you're into anime like him, he'll make sure you're nice and comfy on his bed with a heating pad before putting on your favorite show. Of course, he loves to snuggle with you beneath his blankets during this (he'll be a blushing mess all over again if you chose to give him forehead/temple kisses during your watch party, but he'll always return those kisses in kind).

༺♥༻

Malleus Draconia...who has no idea what to do. Lilia never quite got around to explaining it to him other than "the basics", so he's left completely in the dark until you came along. His face grows even more pale as you explain how painful your period is with cramps, bloating, and other uncomfortable symptoms you struggled with. His heart aching for his beloved enduring such a thing.

He seemed a bit taken aback when Lilia looked a little uncomfortable when he nagged him for every detail about a woman's menstrual cycle, to which the Fae replied with "every woman is different" and elaborated a bit on some pointers.

The next day, Malleus appeared on your doorstep with a few grocery bags and an averted gaze. Your smile made his reluctance dissipate as you pulled out all sorts of goodies: candy, a homemade heating pad, and even a small dragon plushie! His expression is much more confident when you thank him for the gifts. Now whenever it's your time of the month, Malleus has a stock pile of blankets, heating pads, and other essentials ready to make a warm nest of comfort for you.

༺♥༻

Vil Schoenheit, who (at first) judges you for letting your skincare routine lapse...only to quickly backtrack when you start sobbing and tell him you're on your period. He quickly makes up for it by buying you several decadent flower bouquets and chocolate covered strawberries the very next day, a sweet apology card also included in the bounty of goodies.

Since Vil is more focused on wellbeing, he won't always buy you sweet or salty food you may crave during your period. He'll get you plenty of water and fruit, though, and make sure to keep you motivated with compliments and praise if you're experiencing negative moods (he may go overboard from time to time, though you don't mind).

One day, while he was away filming a new TV show, you found a intricately decorated care package on your doorstep filled with everything you'll need. It became a tradition from then on (whether he was out filming or not) to send these personal packages, each including a heartfelt, hand-written note that remind you just how beautiful and amazing you are.

༺♥༻

Kalim Al-Asim, who pampers you endlessly. He has over thirty siblings, many of which (I assume) are girls, so he'd have a good understanding of periods. So when he finds you hiding beneath your covers with a heating pad draped over your stomach, he knows it's time to spoil you.

Do you want/need a massage? Hon, he's already got the lavender oil on hand. Mani-pedi? If he won't do it for you, he'll do it with you at the spa! And while he grew up wealthy, he's not afraid to hand-feed you your favorite food (especially since he gets to see your sweet smile).

Kalim is also mentally and emotionally ready to help you process your shifting moods during your time of the month. Even if you snap at him, he's always quick to forgive you. He has a box of tissues in his room ready to go as he gently rubs your back as you sob, reassuring you that you're not alone and he loves you so, so much. And he always will.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM NORMAL PEOPLE *  assorted dialogue from the book by sally rooney, some lines slightly changed to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

i'm not a religious person, but i do sometimes think god made you from me.

i have a sense that real life is happening somewhere far away, happening without me, and i don't know if i will ever found out where it is or become part of it.

no one can be independent of other people completely.

life offers up these moments of joy despite everything.

he probably won't come back.

what we have now, we can never have back again.

for me, the pain of loneliness will be nothing to the pain i used to feel, of being unworthy.

we've done a lot of good for each other.

people can really change one another.

you should go. i'll always be here. you know that.

generally i find men are a lot more concerned with limiting the freedoms of women than exercising personal freedom for themselves.

most people go through their whole lives without ever really feeling that close with anyone.

life is the thing you bring with you inside your own head.

even in memory, i will always find that moment unbearably intense.

i have never believed i'm fit to be loved by any person.

yes. that was it. the beginning of my life.

it's funny the decisions you make because you like someone.

your whole life is different.

i think we're at that weird age where life can change a lot from small decisions.

if people appear to behave pointlessly in grief, it's only because human life is pointless, and this is the truth that grief revealed.

i don't know what's wrong with me.

i don't know why i can't be like normal people.

it feels powerful to put an experience down in words.

people are a lot more knowable than they think they are.

there's always been something inside me that men have wanted to dominate.

i want my life to mean something.

a lot of the literary people in college see books primarily as a way of appearing cultured.

that's the only part of myself i want to protect, the part that exists inside you.

there's something so corrupt and sexy about it.

i wish you didn't have to go.

i wish you could stay the night.

life offers up these moments of joy despite everything.

literature moves me.

it almost sounds sexual.

you learn nothing very profound about yourself simply by being bullied.

it's time you'll never get back.

time is real. the money is also real.

we've done a lot of good for each other.

the snow keeps falling.

hopefully i have changed, you know, as a person. but honestly, if i have, it's because of you.

he does have immaculate taste.

it's not like this with other people.

[name], would you ever fuck off?

you lean in expecting resistance, and everything just falls away in front of you.

i would lie down and die for you at any minute.

sometimes, someone will make eye contact with me, like a bus conductor or a person looking for change, and i'll feel shocked that anyone can actually see me.

we could be in a room full of people and my eyes would always meet yours, just to find that you had already been looking.

there's something comforting about it, something good about feeling sort of numb, detached from it all.

it was different with you, didn't have to play any games with you. it was just real.

no one is ever gonna hurt you like that again. everything's gonna be all right. trust me.

i love you, and i'm not gonna let anything like that happen to you again.

we have done so much good for one another.

[kiwicopia]

🔞 MDNI | Kinktober: Lactation/pregnancy 🔞

🎃 Choso x BabyMama!Reader 🎃

TW: Pregnant reader, milking, sucking, biting, licking, creampie, fingering, praise, handsy Choso, reverse cowgirl & cowgirl position on the couch, reader tasting herself.

tags: @shes-so-insane @stygianoir @uzxotic

Honestly, you really should have seen this coming. Choso was always handsy with you before you got pregnant, but now it was tenfold. You were plumper, with a swollen belly and large—but sore—breasts. Though he didn’t mind. With the way he looked at and touched you, it was easy to tell that he enjoyed you like this. Not to mention that you had such a lovely glow to your skin now, which he also adored.

A soft moan fell from your lips as he gave your breast another gentle squeeze with his hand while he kissed the side of your neck. “Choso,” you whined, biting your bottom lip to suppress a slight groan when he pinched a nipple. With one hand occupying a tit, he kept his free arm secured around you, keeping you in place on his lap. He was mindful of your belly, and his grip loosened each time you squirmed in his lap. 

“Be still,” he whispered, “let me enjoy you, please.” His lips trailed small kisses down your neck, his tongue poking out every now and then to taste the flesh. It was difficult to stay still like that, especially when your body was so sensitive now. Choso’s hand squeezed your tit yet again as his other slid around your stomach and down to your cunt, slowly teasing it with his middle finger before plunging it deep inside of you. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against your neck. 

You whined as his finger gyrated inside your pussy, and he soon added another finger. They moved in a scissoring motion occasionally as he repeatedly slid them out and back inside. The feeling was immaculate, and your head leaned back against his shoulder as he pleased you. “S’good,” you mumbled, your body feeling the small, electrical jolts of pleasure every time he’d thrust his fingers. Choso smiled softly in response before sliding them back out and raising his hand to your face. You noticed how drenched his fingers were in your slick. 

“Open,” he said, and your lips parted in response. His digits pressed against your tongue as he slid them inside your mouth, making you taste yourself. Choso always made sure you knew how delicious you were. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. You hummed softly in response before closing your lips around his fingers. Your tongue then gently licked his digits, slowly lapping and sucking your slick from them. He then pulled them from between your lips, making a harsh pop sound. “Good girl.” 

His hand slid down your side before it vanished, but you already knew what he was about to do. You felt it again when he shifted his body a little and his cockhead rubbed against your slick folds, wetting itself before sliding right in with ease. The moan that left your lips as he slowly filled you caused him to squeeze your breast again, and his forefinger and thumb pinched your nipple once more. Choso never wasted an opportunity to fuck you, but it seemed to be more often now that you were carrying his kid, and you never could forget just how big he truly was. 

His hips bucked slowly, moving at a languid pace as his cock stretched your walls. His breathing wavered slightly as he gripped your hip with a free hand. You knew how difficult it was for him to now drill into you. He ached to fuck you senseless, just like you liked it, but he didn’t want to harm you. Not with you like this. Choso’s lips found your neck again, peppering the flesh with gentle kisses while maintaining a slow thrusting motion. “Still so tight,” he murmured, “fuck.” 

His thighs clenched underneath you as he continued struggling to maintain control over himself. It was so difficult when he had you like this, when you looked like that. You moaned when he slipped up, his thrust a bit too fast and his dick reaching a little deeper than intended. “Go faster, Choso,” you begged. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he replied. Your lips formed a small pout as you started moving on your own, gently bouncing on him. His grip on your hip tightened, letting you know that he loved it despite not responding verbally. Your body needed him, ached for him to fuck you senseless. He groaned when you moved faster in his lap, and the hand on your breast quickly left it as it joined the other on your hip, gripping it gently as he carefully turned you around on him—without ever slipping out. “Want me to go faster, huh?” 

“Please,” you whined, soon letting out a sharp gasp when he brought your hips down on his. His cock buried itself deep inside your cunt before he lifted you up slightly, only to repeat the motion again and again and again. Your tits bounced as he fucked you, and he couldn’t take his eyes off them. It wasn’t long before one hand left your hip and groped a breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching the nipple hard enough to bring forth a bit of milk. 

His eyes lit up at the sight and he swallowed hard before leaning forward, catching the liquid on his tongue before it dribbled to waste. Choso then elicited a sharp gasp from your throat when his lips latched onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around it a few times before he started gently sucking on it. Your hands gripped his shoulders, squeezing them tightly as he continued sucking on your tit like a starved man. His teeth grazed your nipple, giving it a soft bite before he went back to sucking. 

Your hips rocked back and forth against his, fucking him yourself while he kept himself occupied with milking your breast. The pleasure from it coupled with the way you fucked yourself on his cock sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. “Choso, I—.” 

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” He asked, stopping momentarily to glance up at you. “Cum for me then,” he said. You couldn’t hold yourself back with all the pleasure having built up inside of your body. He growled a little when he felt your pussy flutter at his words, and soon felt the way your walls clenched around his dick as you came for him. 

You called out his name, pushing him over the edge alongside you. He bit down on your nipple as his hips sputtered, bucking up into you harshly one last time as he emptied himself inside of you. Your cunt slowly milked him, and you whined at the warm feeling that flooded your insides, painting your gummy walls in thick, white ropes of his cum. 

Your body shook from the pleasure you felt after the fact, and Choso chuckled softly as he kept you balanced in his lap so that you wouldn’t fall backwards. He didn’t want another accident like that again. “Mm,” he hummed, eyes glancing down and watching how a bit of his seed managed to seep out of your pussy, “you have a knack for milking me, baby.” He then gently grabbed your chin with one hand, pulling your face closer to his. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too,” you smiled, tiredly. His lips brushed against yours as he kissed you gently before carefully pulling himself out and turning your body around. Your back rested against his bare chest as you kept your head leaned back against his shoulder. 

Choso kept one hand on your hip while the other gently caressed your swollen belly. He loved you. Loved to kiss you, hold you, and he certainly loved fucking you while you were pregnant. Maybe he’d knock you up again just so he could do it again? 

[2ndkaiser]

MOUTHWASHING CREW HEADCANONS

This is my first time writing. I’m not the best at this, I’m just trying to pick up a new hobby so don’t come at me if this is ass. These are my headcanons, this is what I think, my headcanons do not need to be like yours.

꩜ Warnings: Extremely small mention of NSFW content for Daisuke’s part, one swear word.

CAPTAIN CURLY (PRE-CRASH)

Has a collection of cowboy stuff he’s extremely proud of. Pridefully shows it to the rest of the crew.

I like to think he’s not that much of a sweet tooth, but once in a while he eats a spoonful of biscoff spread because he claims that “Its not too sweet” but really he just can’t go one month without the taste of biscoff.

A terrible cook. Absolutely awful. I’m talking frying an egg and made it undercooked but overcooked at the same time.

Used to take immaculate care of his hair back on earth but ran out of products within 4 months on board.

Definitely misses his shiny curls…

Genuinely loves the taste of Alpen yoghurt bars, he could down 20 of them in one sitting.

Once asked Jimmy to help cut his hair and ended up with a frizzy bob look for a while.

CO-PILOT JIMMY

Y’know how one of his canon hobbies is weightlifting? Well he only started lifting because Curly did, he wanted to appear buffer than him.

He cant lift past 50kg btw.

Has a favorite shirt hes too attached to throw away. It’s a Misfits band t-shirt which now has holes in it, the hem of the shirt is practically falling off but he refuses to throw it out.

I know people like to say he probably stinks but honestly he probably smells faint of wood and light musk. It’s not the worst, kind of smells pleasant actually.

Heavily dislikes board games because every time he’s slightly falling behind the rest of the crew he rage quits, gaslighting himself that the game is rigged and storms off.

Secretly likes The Hungry Caterpiller. (Only because it was the only book he could afford as a child.)

Likes the smell of gasoline. I’m not elaborating.

NURSE ANYA

Originally, the Tulpar didn’t have any board games (considering how shitty Pony Express is), she brought them on herself. Theres now a small box of games for everyone tucked away under the table in the living room.

Ran one of those small businesses that sold slime when she was younger but stopped because she got slime stuck in her hair so bad she had to cut her hair.

Back on earth, she was often invited to school trips as a nurse or a medic. One of her fondest memories was when she was brought on a 5 day school residential trip to the beach with 9th graders. She got to go snorkeling with them and became close friends with a few other med students who also got invited.

Never skips leg day.

Theres a hidden cupboard of kids cereal no one knew about but her. She gate-kept it and pours herself a bowl every morning since the other cupboard of cereal is only filled with cornflakes and the granola ones.

Gave a box to Daisuke though but only because he promised not to tell anyone after he saw her taking it off the shelf.

Bonds with Daisuke over animes like Ouran High School Host Club, Assassination Classroom and Life Lesson of Uramichi Oniisan. They’re best friends now.

INTERN DAISUKE

I don’t care what y’all say, he loves playing Wii Sports, specifically tennis and bowling.

Once got scolded by his mother because she thought he was watching hentai. In reality, it was just an anime where the female lead sounds like shes making explicit noises every time she gasps. Poor Daisuke.

Wants to go to Hawaii so bad. He tells his friends that he just wants to go because he loves sunny weather and the beach but really he adores those tanned Sanrio plushes exclusive to Hawaii.

A sucker for malatang. He has the highest spice tolerance out of the whole crew and brought a few packs of Shin ramen to eat. (He offered Swansea one and later saw a sprinting Swansea dashing towards the vending machine for water.)

Won’t be able to sleep for MONTHS after seeing horror movie.

Surprisingly hates gummy bears. Claims the texture is too thick to chew on.

MECHANIC SWANSEA

Tried to convince Pony Express to let his dog on board. Got refused.

Makes a mean Texas Smoked Brisket which he used to make for family gatherings back on earth. Everyone would get upset when he doesn’t show up with one in his hands.

Uses Daisuke as his tool boy like those dads who make their sons hand them tools. Daisuke holds a flashlight for him all the time and Swansea gets annoyed when the light isn’t shining where it’s supposed to be.

Fears balding and asked Anya how to deal with hair loss. She gave him her set of scalp oils to use and now he has the best smelling hair on the ship.

Used to be a jock in his school days. Pulled like 50 girls.

Has a special pair of fun socks his wife gave to him on his 30th birthday, he brought it on the ship because it reminds him of her. Though, everyone laughs at the mini pepperoni pizza patterns on them.

Thanks for reading, this is my first time writing and I have no clue if this is what I’m supposed to be doing. Requests are opened but I don’t have any rules or a masterlist yet. Take care.

[delulujuls]

the right one | jacaerys velaryon

hi, here comes the pt2 for the other one because i think i might actually be falling in love with jace lmao.

for the first time on this blog i tried not to use y/n mentioning because i know that not everyone is a fan of it so yeah, i hope i did well

also i know that the tension is immaculate here so i might write a smutty smut in pt3 eventually so lmk what you think!

summary: the hardened and hateful heart of the future king of westeros is no match for the tender and loving heart of the young prince of dragonstone. so it's not difficult to guess whose heart belongs to the young targaryen princess

warnings: swearing, mentions of threatening with a knife

pairing: sister!targaryen reader x jacaerys velaryon (ft. best-uncle-in-the-world daemon, aemond and this little menace to humanity aegon)

taglist: @gorlillaglue25 @aegonswife @fallout-girl219 @lyssaluvs @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @aleemendoza2425-blog @darkgvk @faeoffaith @slayraxes-blogs @lolilkkk

The young princess sat at the table, but her mind was elsewhere. She didn't participate in the lively conversations, nor did she laugh and joke as she had the previous evening during the feast. Her gaze was fixed on her wine goblet, from which she had not taken a single sip. Her silverware was also untouched.

The girl's behavior did not go unnoticed by those present. Jacaerys, who sat across from her, immediately noticed something was wrong. He didn't have the courage to ask, so he was relieved when the king took that burden off his shoulders.

"Is something troubling you, dear daughter?" he asked, addressing her. The princess didn't hear his question at first; she only came to her senses when Helaena nudged her arm.

"I must have caught a chill," she replied, adjusting her high-collared dress. "My throat hurts."

Aegon wished he could sink into the ground. He remembered the events of the previous night vaguely but knew what had happened. He knew what he had done. He sat next to his sister just as they had been seated the day before but he saw her pull her chair away. She had every right to. He had gone too far.

The king didn't notice Aegon's broken nose, which had been tended to by a maester that morning, nor did he remark on Jacaerys' bruised brow, which he tried to hide under his dark curls. Small scuffles between the boys were normal, and since everyone was sitting at the table eating together, he figured nothing major had happened. He was, however, worried about his daughter.

Daemon was not as blind as his brother, who might have been somewhat blinded by his illness. Viserys, however, had long failed to notice what was consuming his family. Perhaps he simply didn't want to see.

"A sore throat?" he asked as they both left the dining room. "Really?"

"I don't know what you mean," she replied, avoiding his gaze.

Daemon, however, watched her closely, and her reaction only confirmed his suspicion that something was wrong.

"I'm sure I have something for that," he said, nodding towards the corridor leading to the right. His look indicated he wouldn't take no for an answer. The girl followed him without a word. When they were in Daemon's chambers, the princess knew that lies were unnecessary. Her uncle must have seen through her at the table.

"So?" he asked, closing the door. "I'm all ears."

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, looking at him. The prince now saw even more clearly her puffy eyes from crying and her chapped lips. "Besides, it's nothing significant."

"Nothing significant, yet you wasted a night crying," he observed, pouring wine and offering her a goblet. She shook her head, so he took a sip himself.

The princess looked at him silently. She had no arguments. Daemon knew this perfectly well.

The young girl sighed, accepting her defeat. She lowered her gaze and unbuttoned a few buttons of her collar, which was fastened up to her chin. She parted the fabric to reveal her fair skin, marked by a thin, bloody cut.

Daemon took a sip from the goblet and set it down, approaching his niece. He pulled the fabric aside a bit more, looking at her neck.

"Care to share how you got that?"

"Aegon is a maniac who should be locked up in the Sept and treated," she said bitterly. "A drunk who thinks he's the lord of the world, to whom everyone must bow."

"So, I hope you taught him a lesson in humility?" he asked, moving to the table and picking up one of the ointments. He unscrewed it, returning to the girl and taking some on his finger.

"He has the same mark on his neck."

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head.

"You are impossible, I swear by the Seven," he scoffed, applying the ointment to the cut on her neck.

"They attacked Jace. I couldn't let that happen," she said, frowning. "Those fools think they can terrorize anyone they want. It's not true!"

The prince smiled, sitting down after a moment and taking the goblet in his hand.

"You defended Jacaerys?"

The young princess blushed and looked away. However, she nodded.

"Then it's clear," he answered, crossing his legs. "Aegon is jealous."

"He's a complete idiot!" she said angrily, pouring herself some wine. "Maybe I won't marry him after all, and what then? Maybe they'll find me another husband?"

"I'm afraid the decision has already been made, little bird," he said, looking at her. Her pale cheeks were flushed with embarrassment over her lover and anger at her brother.

"We're connected only by blood and name, nothing more," she cut bitterly, taking a sip of wine. "I will never love someone with such a hardened heart."

"Not like Jacaerys, right?" he asked, glancing at her. He was smiling, but it was a sad smile. All he could do was pity his niece.

"He's a good boy," she said, pressing the cool metal of the goblet to her lips. "His wife will be the happiest girl in Westeros."

This, however, could not be expected by Aegon's future wife. The young prince hadn't learned much from the previous night's events, as he refrained from drinking only at breakfast. But when only the maids remained in the dining room, he emptied almost half a jug of wine himself.

"Will you tell me what happened last night?" Aemond spoke from behind him, causing the elder brother to almost spill his wine. "I know you didn't go straight back to your room."

"Are you following me?" he looked at him nervously, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I was checking if you could make it back to bed in your current state."

The maids, who were cleaning up after breakfast, glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Aegon felt their gazes on him.

"Get out!" he shouted, gesturing for them to leave. Shortly after, the brothers were alone. Aegon sat heavily in one of the chairs and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I threatened her with a knife," he said quietly, feeling his confession burn his throat. "I threatened her with a knife while Helaena was asleep inches away."

He shook his head, reaching for the wine goblet. "If I had been more drunk, Helaena might have woken up in a bed full of blood with a corpse next to her."

Aemond only needed the first sentence from his brother. He took the goblet from his hand and threw it across the dining room. Aegon froze.

"This has to stop," Aemond said quietly and calmly, but sharply and firmly at the same time. "This has gone too far, Aegon."

The young prince rubbed his face with his hands and leaned on the armrests, pressing his joined fingers to his lips. His younger brother was right. He had crossed the line.

"You know I'm always on your side, but you threatened our sister," he shook his head. "I can't agree to something like that."

Aegon gritted his teeth and lowered his head. He felt tears in his eyes. He felt anger, regret, and guilt. But he wasn't angry at himself; he was angry at Jacaerys. He believed the fault lay with him, and if he hadn't been hitting on his sister, nothing would have happened.

"You're right," he sniffed. "I should kill that mongrel."

Aemond clenched his jaw. He didn't recognize the person before him. Had he been so blindly devoted to his brother all these years that he hadn't noticed what a monster he had become?

"You want to...kill him?" he asked, looking at him. He wanted to make sure he understood correctly.

Aegon nodded.

"It's all his fault!" he slammed his hands on the table. "If it weren't for him, none of this would have happened, and I wouldn't have raised a hand against that bitch!"

Aemond now saw before him not his beloved brother but a maniac wrapped in alcohol, hatred, and delusions. Tears were streaming down Aegon's face, but it was hard to tell their nature. Sorrow over hurting his sister? Anger? If so, at whom? At Jacaerys? At his sister? At himself?

However, Aegon wasn't the only one crying. In the doorway of the dining room stood their sister, who, drawn by the sound of the thrown goblet, had quietly peeked her head in. She had heard the entire conversation between her brothers and was devastated.

"You really are a monster," she said in a trembling voice. Two pairs of eyes turned towards her. Aegon hastily stood up, wanting to approach his sister, but Aemond firmly held him back, keeping him in place.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobbed, falling to his knees. Aemond still held him tightly, not wanting to let him do anything to their sister. Aegon was now unpredictable and had shown he posed a threat.

"Please, sweet sister!" he shouted, trying to free himself from Aemond's embrace "Please!"

The young princess took a step back, shaking her head and causing another cascade of tears to run down her cheeks. She couldn't believe what her brother had become.

Aegon fell at her feet, apologizing and begging for forgiveness, but she quickly left the dining room. She began heading towards Jacaerys' chambers, hoping to find the young prince there. However, he was busy searching for the girl just as she was.

They met by chance, bumping into each other on one of the staircases. Seeing her tear-streaked face, Jacaerys didn’t even have time to ask what had happened before she threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly, pressing her face to his chest.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he whispered, holding her close. “I’m here, it's okay.”

“Take me away from here,” she managed through her tears. She didn’t have to ask twice.

Not long after, they left the castle walls, which seemed to suffocate her. It wasn’t until the cold wind dried the tears on her cheeks that she was able to breathe. They walked along the stone wall towards the beach, not saying a word. The young princess clung to her nephew’s arm, who glanced at her from time to time, sincerely worried.

When they reached the beach, they sat on a salt-worn log cast ashore by the sea. Jacaerys pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the girl. She wiped her tears, staring at the waves angrily crashing against the shore. After a moment, she turned her gaze to the boy’s face, which looked at her with concern.

“Will you run away with me?” she asked, her voice filled with sorrow. “Far from here. Where the map doesn’t reach.”

The young prince smiled warmly at her and raised his hand, touching her tear-stained cheek and gently caressing it with his thumb.

“I haven’t been to the end of the map yet.”

The girl sniffed and lay down, resting her head on his lap. Jacaerys leaned down and kissed her cheek. He began to stroke her head, gently running his fingers through her hair. He wanted to ask what had happened when he found her crying. He wanted to ask if her mood at breakfast was really due to a sore throat. But he knew his questions were unnecessary and only thing that mattered was the comfort he could offer. The young princess gratefully accepted it.

She closed her eyes, listening to the whistle of the wind and the roar of the waves. After a while, the sound of the sea began to blend with the sound of the boy’s fingers gently moving through her hair. The girl’s bitter face took on a calm expression, and the tears on her cheeks dried. Jacaerys smiled softly to himself. He had calmed a dragon.

“Aegon threatened me with a knife,” the girl spoke after some time. Despite the heavy confession, her voice was calm. “He came to me at night, completely drunk, and tried to intimidate me.”

The young prince clenched his jaw, his whole body tensing. But he didn’t stop stroking her hair. The princess opened her eyes and turned her head away from the sea, fixing her gaze on him. A piece of her dress’s collar had shifted, and Jacaerys noticed the cut on her neck.

“I’m afraid to have someone like him as my husband.”

He cupped her face in his hand, leaning toward her.

“If you have fears, I’ll speak to the king myself,” he said calmly but firmly. “Either he will shake some sense into Aegon, or someone else will seek your hand.”

“No one will be brave enough, Jacaerys,” she shook her head, looking away. “They’ve already announced the news of the upcoming wedding to everyone.”

“I will be,” he said, capturing her violet eyes with his own. “I’m ready to fight for you, princess.”

The girl looked at him in shock, surprised by his words. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew what to do. She entwined her fingers in the prince’s dark curls and pulled him towards her, kissing him tenderly. She poured all the love she had inside into that kiss—a love that would never be given to the right person.

“And if they don’t want a fight, we’ll run away,” he continued, whispering into her lips.

“We’ll run away to where the map doesn’t reach.”

[misctf]

I just love your twink stories so much, just overall cockshrink stories of yours are immaculate. Thank you so much!

Of course! I hope you enjoy this one too!

New Year New Me

Derek grinned as his boyfriend kissed his cheek and rubbed his hand against his chest. Despite dating for two years, the passion was still there. And Derek couldn’t think of a better way to spend the New Year than with his boyfriend at a couple’s resort nestled away in the woods.

“I love you babe.” Derek kissed his boyfriend, his hands caressing his lover’s cheek.

Paul was perfect. Besides being one of the nicest and funniest guys he’d ever dated, the physical attraction was certainly there. Not to mention they were totally compatible. Derek being a total top, while Paul was a strict bottom. He loved how desperate Paul could be too- always the more submissive of the two. And as they got into bed, Derek instinctively goes to be the big spoon.

“Hey babe,” Paul says, “Would you mind if I try being the big spoon tonight?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “You want to be big spoon tonight?” He smirks, “What’s gotten into you?” He jokes and Paul smiles deviously.

“You’re always the big spoon, I kinda wanna try it out.” He chuckles, “New Year, new me?” Derek looked at Paul with amusement, but also a hint of curiosity. 

“Alright babe, we can give it a shot.” 

He said with a grin, scooting over to let Paul take position behind him. As soon as their bodies made contact, Derek felt a strange tingling sensation wash over him. His skin prickled and he shivered slightly.

“What's up?” 

Paul asked, noticing the change in his boyfriend's demeanor. Derek tried to shake off the feeling, attributing it to the unusual positioning. But the sensations intensified. He tried his best to ignore them.

“Nothing, I’m good.” Derek mumbled, blinking his eyes a few times.

Derek's mind began to fog slightly as the tingling spread through his body. His thoughts grew hazy and his vision blurred at the edges. Paul's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and Derek felt himself melting into his boyfriend's embrace.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Paul whispered in his ear, his breath hot against Derek's skin.

The words sent a thrill through Derek, but it wasn't just arousal. Something deeper, more primal, was stirring within him. Derek nodded, thinking it odd how Paul's voice took on a somewhat lower tenure. Not to mention the confidence. Usually he liked more submissive guys. But Paul's sudden confidence made his dick stir.

“So good.” He replied, nestling closer to his boyfriend. Derek's cock hardened fully, straining against his boxers as a new kind of desperation seized him. He wanted to be held, worshipped, fucked...hard, “Mmm, I love you so much, Paul.” Derek slurred, his voice taking on a higher, more nasally tone, “You're the best thing that ever happened to me.” He pressed back against his boyfriend, grinding his ass against Paul's crotch.

“Fuck babe...” Paul grunted.

Derek moaned loudly, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he felt Paul's hardening bulge press insistently against his ass.

“Oh god, Paul, please...” Derek whimpered, his hips bucking back against his boyfriend's hips in a needy rhythm.

His once strong, toned body started to soften. The light dusting of chest hairs beginning to fall away, leaving him smooth. Meanwhile, Derek couldn't help but notice that Paul's arms seemed bigger somehow. The mountainous biceps that bulged as Paul held him closer seemed... wrong. But as he felt Paul's ever more prominent bulge against his ass, he simply moaned. Paul's grip tightened around Derek's waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he ground his throbbing erection against his boyfriend's pliant ass. Derek gasped, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure coursing through his veins.

“I'm going to make you mine, baby.” Paul growled, his voice low and rough with desire, “Every inch of you belongs to me now.”

As if in response, Derek's body began to shift further. His broad shoulders narrowed, his powerful muscles atrophying to reveal a leaner, more delicate frame. His hair, once dark and neatly styled, turned a bright platinum blonde and fell in messy waves across his forehead. A sweet, innocent face emerged, dominated by large, expressive blue eyes and full, pouty lips.

With each passing moment, Derek felt himself becoming less like his former self and more like a naive, dim-witted pretty boy. His once sharp intellect dulled, replaced by a vacuous, lustful haze. And yet, emotions like fear, despair, and anger dulled. He gazed up at Paul with wide, trusting eyes, his mouth slack and drooling slightly. 

“Y-you're so big and strong, Paul.” he cooed, reaching back to fondle the massive bulge tenting his boyfriend's pants, “Can you please fuck me? I need it so bad...”

“Not with an ass like that.” Paul grunted, scratching at the hairs that sprouted from his increasingly larger pecs, “And what kinda fuckin' twink has a package like that? Paul groped Derek's proud bulge.

“But babe... please...” Derek pouted, “I.... oh gawd!”

As Paul's touch lingered on Derek's groin, the young man's erection began to shrink, growing smaller and softer until it dwindled to a mere nub between his thighs. At the same time, his once muscular ass flared outward, ballooning into an obscenely large, juicy bubble butt. Paul chuckled cruelly, enjoying the sight of his boyfriend's pathetic, diminished manhood. He reached down and gave Derek's swollen rump a harsh slap, watching with satisfaction as the tender flesh jiggled and quivered.

“You're such a fucking cumslut now, aren't you, babe?” Paul sneered, rubbing his thumb over the red imprint left on Derek's cheek. “Just begging to get your tight little hole filled with my cock.”

Derek whined pitifully, squirming under Paul's scornful gaze. 

“P-please, Paul... I'll do anything... just use me...” He reached back to part his cheeks.

That was all Paul needed. Paul set a relentless pace, pounding into Derek's ass with savage abandon. Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through the young man's core, making him clench and unclench around his boyfriend's invading length. Derek's cries degenerated into incoherent moans and whimpers, his mind consumed by the overwhelming sensations. Any thought of being anything other than a sex toy for his bigger, stronger, boyfriend evaporating from his increasingly duller mind.

“Harder, Paul! Fuck me harder!” Derek begged shamelessly, his voice high and breathy. “Make me your slutty little cumdump!”

As the night wore on, Paul continued to use Derek's willing body for his pleasure, fucking him relentlessly until both men collapsed in exhaustion. Now, as morning dawned outside, Derek lay curled up on Paul's chest, his small frame barely filling the expanse of his boyfriend's broad shoulders.

Despite the lingering soreness between his legs, Derek felt a deep sense of contentment and belonging. In this moment, he knew without a doubt that he was meant to serve and submit to Paul's dominance. Groggily, Derek opened his eyes to find Paul staring down at him with a mix of affection and superiority. Paul gently stroked Derek's hair, his fingertips grazing the delicate features of his boyfriend's face. 

“You did so well last night, baby.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “Such a good little slut for me.” Derek blushed at the praise, his heart swelling with pride and devotion. 

“Thank you, Paul.” he whispered, nuzzling into his boyfriend's warm embrace, “I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Paul chuckled, leaning down to capture Derek's lips in a dominating kiss. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a golden glow over the room, both Derek and Paul knew something had changed. But neither would be complaining all too much.

[saladscream]

Merlin’s throat is distracting.

Arthur is not sure when that came to be. The realisation crept up on him stealthily, until one day he became aware that he’d been staring at the pale column of his manservant’s neck for close to a full minute.

His only excuse for the disconcerting fascination is that… It’s a nice column. Smooth. Solid. A grain of skin as fine as alabaster. It is rather shocking that a commoner should parade around with such a flawless bodily feature, but by now Arthur is resigned to Merlin eluding the rules of propriety and class conventions. By all rights, Merlin should have a peasant’s neck – sinewy, weathered, pimpled, with creases of age-old encrusted filth. Not a Roman statue’s milky throat and perfect collarbones.

Because, yes, Merlin’s collarbones are works of bloody art too. And for everyone’s peace of mind, Arthur would rather not dwell on said offending clavicles, for gazing too long at them makes his tongue long for truly disturbing acts.

So Merlin’s throat is without blemish and Arthur believes the damn neckerchief is responsible for this hideous state of affairs. It wraps around Merlin’s neck like a loving, clingy embrace and protects it from the elements as much as from covetous looks. Arthur doubts the scrap of material is a vanity on Merlin’s part. He reckons that it rather serves a grimly mundane purpose, such as always having a convenient rag on hand to mop up spills or garrot a bleeding limb. But the fact remains that it acts as a virtuous shield against the less-than-virtuous designs of the beholder.

Arthur doesn’t know whether he loves or loathes the infuriatingly familiar piece of fabric. He sometimes wonders if Merlin is aware that his neckerchiefs were all cut from a couple of Arthur’s old cloaks.

Today, some spiteful deity somewhere must be upset with Arthur because the neckerchief is not there to serve its chaste and merciful function, leaving Merlin’s throat indecently exposed. And to make matters worse, there’s a small streak of soot or charcoal down the side of Merlin’s usually immaculate neck. The little black smudge is neat and innocent in its own way, but it stares Arthur boldly in the face – enticing him, daring him.

It would be so easy for Arthur to take it upon himself to lick his thumb and make the impertinent little mark go away. But that way lies madness. And indignity. And too much explaining. So Arthur closes his hand over his thumb and waits for the urge to pass.

Of course, it doesn't.

The wicked smudge is playing coy but challenges him nonetheless.

In desperation, Arthur catches Merlin’s gaze and nods at him, doing some elaborate finger wiggling to indicate on his own neck where the offending smudge stands, hoping the prat will get his meaning.

Of course, he doesn’t.

Instead, the ever-helpful Merlin comes to inspect Arthur’s neck, leaning closely into his space, squinting and mumbling an asinine ‘I can’t see anything’.

And that, gentle reader, is exactly why they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Arthur is now forced into sinful proximity with not only with the elegant throat and the lick-worthy collarbones, but also a remarkable shock of dark hair.

A Merlin-scented shock of dark hair.

@miyriu @neptunesyellowsands

Merlin's eyes

Merlin's lips

Merlin's hands

[yiiofsh]

✦ . BOYFRIEND DLUC RAGNVINDR . ₊ ⊹

⌗ synopsis tendencies and scenarios diluc will have while being your significant other.

› content fluff, gn!reader, headcannons, slight ooc

notes .ᐟ my last headcannon post did very well, so i decided to do one of diluc for my friend. also writing a fic for venti, stay tuned. >_<

BF! DILUC who comes behind you and hugs your waist. he would either do this while you're cooking or even while you're getting ready. diluc would also have tendency to lay his head on your shoulder or head, sometimes whispering sweet nothings.

it was around 2am, you woke up extremely dehydrated. you decided to slip out of bed and grab a glass of water, just being mindful of not making any loud noises to wake up your burnt out boyfriend. walking towards the dark kitchen, you turned on the underlights of the cabinets for just enough light to see. after pouring yourself some water, you raised the brim of the cup up to your lips. as you were about to tilt your head to sip the liquid, you felt two slender arms slither around your waist. diluc then placed his head on your shoulders, whispering, "mm... come back to bed, please? i'm cold."

BF! DILUC who likes it when you play with his hair. because of that, he makes sure he has top notch hair care products and a routine so it'll feel even better when you run your slim fingers through his red hair. diluc especially loves it when you play with his hair while he falls asleep whether it'll be when you guys are going to sleep or when he's laying his head on your lap. he loves the feeling of you touching his hair, and when you massage his scalp. he always looks up for your massages after a long day of work. your touch will always make him feel sleepy.

BF! DILUC who hates having to let you cook and would rather cook for you. though, because of his busy schedules, you end up cooking nice meals for him. even though your dishes are immaculate, he rather cook for you and take care of you. he loves spoiling you and letting you relax. on days where he has no work, you'll usually wake up to a nice and delicious smelling breakfast.

you were deep in slumber, but the sweet smell of syrup and pancakes woke you up. looking to your left, you notice that the bed was nicely made on that side. the scent of pancakes made you know that your boyfriend was already awake, cooking up a small breakfast for you. after cleaning up your bed and making yourself look presentable, you walked downstairs, looking for your red headed lover. walking towarda the table, you see a nicely stack of pancakes, syrup, and multiple berries and strawberries placed in a cute bowl you bought for diluc. "goodmorning, love. i made some pancakes for you." he sweetly said before sitting dowm infront of you. your eyes light up at the yummy food, thinking about how you managed to get togethet with such a caring man.

BF! DILUC who LOVES cuddling you at night. when i say love, i mean LOVES. he would love spooning you while ofcourse being the big spoon. when he cuddles you, he holds you so close like you'll be easily ripped out of his arms. diluc would insist that holding you at night helps him sleep while you're probably dying of lack of air. though, his embraces are alwqus warm and loving, which i guess makes up for it.

› @yiiofsh

[recareels]

it’s a craving, not a crush

so anyway, i have an obsession with sunday’s white trousers and i rly just wanna make him make a mess in them (*ﾉωﾉ) | title credit: lunch by billie eilish

character: sunday warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dom/sub power dynamics, daddy kink, talks of punishment, cock worship if you squint, noncon/dubcon as reader refuses to take no for an answer, cum licking/swallowing, pet names (darling, sweetheart, etc), bratty reader, one use of the word sir, overstimulation words: 2.6k

“Sweetheart, come now,” Sunday says, glancing over at you—splayed on your tummy across the carpet, elbows bent and chin in palms, a fraying novel open in front of you—with a small grin. “What are you doing? The floor is not a proper place to read—especially not when there are so many suitable alternatives.” 

Sunset eyes sweep across the circular room, pointedly lingering on the various chairs and couches scattered about—plush blue velvet, overstuffed and detailed in gold, with freshly fluffed pillows arranged meticulously, accentuating them.

With a huff, you look down at your book, index finger outlining the edge of the page idly. 

“What if I prefer the floor?” 

“Oh?” he turns toward you, placing his pen down on the desk. “And why is that? Are the couches not to your liking?” 

Amusement tugs at the corners of his mouth, his head tilting in question. You stare at him for a moment, your own mirth glimmering in your eyes, before finally pushing yourself up onto all fours.

“Well,” you drawl out, crawling on your hands and knees toward him, something sly smeared across your face. “Maybe there’s something I want on the floor.”

A soft chuckle vibrates in his throat as you reach his knee, propping your chin on his thigh and gazing up at him. 

“Whatever could that be?” he hums out the words, sweet as honey, a gloved palm coming to smooth baby hairs back from your brow.

“To kneel between your thighs,” a hand begins creeping up his leg, tracing the inseam of his immaculately pressed trousers, “and play with you a little.” 

“You know that isn’t appropriate, darling,” he says, his voice paradoxically both stern and soft. “I’m working right now, and you promised to behave.” 

“What?” you pout, finger stopping a millimetre shy of the growing lump in his pants. “Sucking your cock through your trousers doesn’t make me a good girl?” 

Sunday’s eyes refocus on the papers strewn in front of him, beginning to gather them in a haphazard pile. 

“Not when Daddy’s trying to sift through these documents, no. There is a time and a place for everything, you know that.” 

“But—But what if I really want to?” 

He sighs, squaring up the papers between his hands and tapping them on his desk a few times to align them before placing them back on the surface, conscientious not to mess them up. Features gone hard and flat, he casts you another glance, bordering on exasperated. 

“When has whining ever gotten you what you want? Hm?” 

Never, of course—that would instil bad habits in you, and Sunday can’t have that. 

Doesn’t mean you’ve stopped trying. 

“Please, Daddy,” you whimper, index finger sketching out the shape of his cock, touch feather-light. “Please, let me suck on it, just for a little bit? You don’t even have to take it out! I just wanna—”

“It seems the word no has vanished from your vocabulary. Does Daddy need to reinstate it?” 

“No,” you look away, cheeks burning at his reprimand, eyes downcast as a finger draws nonsensical shapes on his flesh. “I just wanna be close to you, that’s all.” 

The pout in your voice is palpable, heavy and contorting your words into something shy and mumbled. Your eyes shift up, shining with sincerity, beseeching him to understand. 

“I love being close to you; I love making you feel good.” 

You also love pleasing; this he knows for a fact. You love bringing him moments of pure bliss, creating them using your body as your tool and gifting him fragments of absolute rapture in the rawest, most authentic sense.

A large sigh crushes his chest, the edges of Sunday’s resolve beginning to melt beneath your veracity. 

“I swear I’m not trying to be bad or upset you,” you say, voice painfully earnest. “I just want you.” 

The hunger in your eyes is saturated in desire, deep and intense and almost scathing with it’s craving. Your pupils have teeth, your ardency having swallowed up any remnants of mischief, leaving behind nothing but genuine want.

“How about…A compromise? You can suck my cock when I’m finished with my work.” 

An enticing offer, to be sure. But not what you want. 

He sounds unaffected, voice cool and crisp as if he’s striking a business deal—but his cock tells you otherwise, already half-hard and beginning to strain against white linen; yearning, and you’ve barely even touched it yet.

Daddy wants it just as bad as you do; you know he does. He just happens to possess a stricter sense of self-control and a stubborn dedication to his work, that’s all. 

“But that could take ages,” you groan out dramatically, brattiness beginning to seep back into your tone; inherent, irreverent, revived by the prospect of not getting your way. “I’ll probably have to go to bed before you’re even close to finished!” 

Austerity returns to his face, unimpressed by your unwillingness, gaze set in stone once again, and he returns to his work, resolute and relentless. 

“I am tiring of this conversation,” he says, vaguely spit from his tongue as he cards through manilla folders.

“Your cock isn’t—”

“And I have better things to do than go in circles with a little girl intent on misbehaving,” he speaks loudly over your voice, drowning it out. 

Something barbed sinks in your chest, the watery sting of refusal beginning to well up beneath your tongue. It seems he’s made up his mind, a certain finality ringing in his decision—a finality you know intimately, a finality that is engraved in permanence. 

Because once Daddy’s decision has been made final, you know there’s no chance of revising it. 

You are not getting what you want—not with permission, anyway. 

“M’sorry, Daddy,” you murmur softly, true remorse in your voice. 

Sunday doesn’t answer, but to your surprise he doesn’t demand you remove yourself from between his legs, either, an act you perceive as a non-verbal allowance to stay there.

And, for a little while, that’s all you do, resting your head on his thigh as your fingers map out nonsensical patterns along his other leg, lips occasionally planting a smattering of kisses to his warm, clothed flesh. 

You’re drifting between states of consciousness when his voice sounds again, smooth and soft, a palm cupping the crown of your head. 

“My, you really do miss me.”

“Told you so,” you drool out, the words slurred and sleepy. “Still wanna suck you off, too.”

A sigh depresses his chest, chased by a disapproving click of his tongue. “Stubborn little thing.”

And although it’s an insult, his voice is tender, his fingers doting, his eyes filled with fondness. 

“You aren’t going to give up, are you?” 

Sowing a trail of kisses up his thigh, you shake your head, accompanied by a quiet sound of denial. Laying your cheek on his firm muscle again, your tongue darts from between your lips to poke lazily at the bulge between his legs.

His cock is already filling again—gosh, for someone who claims they don’t want it, you sure are easy to arouse, Daddy—jumping a little beneath your dreamy coo, damp breath seeping through his pants to warm his most intimate parts.

Another sigh leaves his lips, charged with resignation and surrender.

“Stop that.” 

A hum of mock contemplation vibrates on your tongue, eyes closing briefly as you nuzzle into his groin. 

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop.” The tip of your tongue slips past your lips again, tracing a slow, lazy circle around his clothed head. “Doesn’t really seem like you want me to stop, either.” 

And it’s true, he doesn’t seem like he wants you to stop, refraining from administering his usual warnings or enforcing his usual preliminary discipline, instead doing nothing at all. 

“It has been made clear to me that you won’t learn your lesson if I forcibly stop you. Only when you do it of your own volition can I be sure that you’ve actually learned.” He pauses, allowing room for a response, but you only burrow your face further into his lap. “Manually halting you doesn’t seem to help.”

Your lips traverse the trajectory of his cock, now fully hard, planting another row of soft, wet kisses across it as he speaks, more intent on your work than his words.

“You know if you go through with this there will be consequences, yes?” 

“I’m aware.” Your tongue curls, a sweet little flick over the head, punctuated by another peck.

“So long as you’re—ah—aware.” 

The promise of punishment weighs hefty in his tone—it will come, and it won’t be fun, you can be certain of that. 

But in this moment it doesn’t matter; in this moment you don’t care, too enamoured with him to be concerned about the inevitable consequences looming in the future, too starved for an ounce of him, any way you can have him. It’ll be worth whatever punishment he conjures up, you’re sure of it. His cum is worth anything.

And you tell him so, a half-swallowed moan wadding up in his throat in response. 

“Anything for attention, huh?”

“Any attention is good attention when it comes from you,” you murmur, nestling your cheek into his thigh.

A hand pets your head, gentle and warm, his stern tone mollified by love. “That’s no reason to misbehave, though.” 

You answer with a kiss to his cock, followed by one slow, heavy lave over the lump, dragging your tongue along the curve and leaving a wide streak of saliva in your wake. 

You’re done talking. 

Sunday sucks a hiss through his teeth, a jolt of rigidness freezing his entire body for a moment before he forces it to relax—legs, thighs, arms, fists, face—and exhales a drawn out breath, long and controlled.  

His eyes, unblinking, stay trained on the documents spread across his desk, but his gaze is motionless, stare focused on a singular spot. 

A smile spreads across your lips, still pressed to his cock, and you stifle a giggle, remnants of it still playing on the back of your tongue, planting another hot, damp open-mouthed kiss to his clothed head. 

Your pace stays leisurely at the start, tongue rolling over the length of his cock in lazy repetitive laps—up, down, up, down, savouring the soft noises you manage to elicit from him with each cycle through the routine; those little hitches of breath, stuttering in his throat on the inhale, those faint whimpers that vibrate in his chest, snuffed out long before they can reach his lips. 

All non-verbal pleads to go faster. 

But you don’t. You won’t, not until his trousers are thoroughly drenched, your saliva stretched thick and sticky on the linen of his pants, aiding your tongue in its slick glide.

Only then do you begin to accelerate, tongue flattening against the straining lump and massaging in broad circular motions, gaining speed with each lick. It hurts, scalding little pricks erupting across your sensitive flesh, tastebuds beginning to chafe from being repetitively ground into the starched fabric. But you persevere, unperturbed by the pain, dedicated to your pursuit of pleasure.

Head tilting upward, your tongue flexes, stretching itself taut and tense as you endeavour to stare up at him. And oh, what a breathtakingly beautiful sight you are, eyes glittering with a coltish mischief and lips spread into a wide, open smile as your tongue works, hard and fast, smearing a dense lacquer of spit across your chin. 

There’s something desperate in your gaze, wanton and wanting, your need to please contradicting your misbehaviour, and Sunday’s hips twitch, an involuntary action that only serves to spur you on further, nurturing your enthusiasm.

It’s nasty and messy and so fucking hot, Sunday just barely able to smother the groan that claws at his chest when he glances down at you again, looking up at him with such potent devotion it almost feels suffocating, pouring from your eyes and permeating the air, curling around his neck and squeezing. 

Blood rushes from his brain and leaves his skull full of tingles, stalling his breath in his lungs and feathering the edges of his vision.

“Ha-ah, fuck,” he chokes out, hips jerking again and you whine a little, nose nuzzling into him in a yearning caress. 

He’s been trying to keep quiet, you can tell; murdering his sweet sounds of pleasure by clenching his teeth and swallowing firmly, intent on not giving you the satisfaction of knowing that it feels good, that he’s enjoying it. 

Because, really, what kind of deterrent is that?

An unconvincing one, that’s what.

And you prove his hypothesis, slick tongue curving around his cock as best it can, embracing the shaft in tight, wet warmth and siphoning it into your mouth, drawing him in as far as his pants will possibly allow.

Lips puckered and cheeks hollowed, you suck on his clothed cock, the force of your suction keeping it steady as the tip of your tongue flicks over his soaked slit, outlined by the fabric clinging to his flesh. 

Another moan pries past his lips, fading into something airy and light, and the speed of your motions increases, tongue rubbing over the head in strong, tight little licks. 

You’re mouthing at his cock with a vengeance now, starved for more of his delicious noises, eager to tug another from him in spite of his strives to restrain them—each sound a prize to be coveted, cherished and collected—lips slurping at his head in thick smears while that slick muscle continues to work, smoothing over his leaking slit in sloppy little strokes. 

You can taste his pre-cum, oozing through drenched material and watered down with your own spit, a whimper sounding deep within your throat, a greedy plea for more.

It’s sweet and tangy on your tongue, infused with his favourite roast of coffee and the copious amounts of sugar he drowns it in, and another little whine reverberates against his cock, loud and drawn-out.

Three more swipes over the head of his cock have him cumming with a sharp gasp, pristine trousers stained hot and sticky as he fills them, hips bucking into your face. 

But you don’t dare move, eager to lap up and swallow down every drop he’ll give you, desperate tongue blotting up the thick dribbles of cream oozing through linen. 

So devoted, so desirous. 

That avid tongue continues to lave and suckle until his thighs are jerking with each flick, his breath stammering with shocks of overstimulation, a gloved hand rooting in the hair at the back of your skull and pulling gently.

“Hungry?” he asks through a smirk, the question a wispy chuckle. 

“Always for you, Sir,” you garble, words tangled in spit, sounding as if you’re drunk on him, eyes gone dreamy with lust-tinted love. 

The palm at the back of your head follows the curve of your cheek in an affectionate caress, coming to cup your jaw, thumb running along your bottom lip. 

“Are you sated now?”

“Mm, never,” you hum out, lips puckering against his thumbprint in a sloppy kiss, blinking up at him with star-encrusted eyes. 

His thumb presses against your mouth in response—a chaste kiss of its own—as he stares down at you, lips mollified into an endearing smile, eyes gone melty with absolute adoration, resting tenderly on your face for a moment.

They’re mostly pupils now, gaping orbs outlined by a thin ring of gold. They linger on each of your features, devouring your devout expression with a careful meticulousness, before sweeping to his crotch, now saturated with his cum and your spit, glazed material shimmering delicately beneath the lamplight of his office.

“You sure did make quite the mess,” he muses, eyes surveying the damage slow and thorough, hips shifting a little, as if to assess from all angles. 

His gaze flits back to you after a moment of contemplation, something glinting in his irises, mischief toying with a corner of his lips. 

“Now it’s time to clean it up.”

[azrielbrainrot]

Good For Me

Pairing: Lucien x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Pegging

Description: You and Lucien decide to try something new.

Warnings: Smut, anal sex, pegging, femdom (barely), some dirty talk

Word Count: 1,3k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This is being the first story I write for Lucien just feels right. Hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Lucien had always been beautiful, breathtakingly so, but watching him spread out before you on the mattress makes it hard to believe he's even real. His skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat, making him glow ethereally under the low lights the candles scattered around the room provided. His long, silky red hair was messily tossed around him, pushed out of his face haphazardly, creating a halo around his head. He looked like a God lying before you.

Pleading eyes track your movements silently, strangely so - it's not often Lucien is at a loss for words. In fact, when the roles are reversed and he's the one who has you spread out like this before him, he seems to not be able to keep his mouth shut at all.

Your eyes track down his torso slowly, taking note of the rise and fall of his chest, his heart racing ever so slightly in excitement, until you find his flushed cock, laying over his prominent abs, a clear liquid leaking from its tip. A smirk falls onto your lips when you notice a small twitch the longer you stare, your eyes darting to his for a moment to find him watching your face with an obscenely needy expression.

“It's unusual for you to be so quiet, Luci,” you muse as your hand falls over his right thigh, repositioning it around your hip, his left following the motion without you even ordering him to. It's also extremely unusual for him to be so compliant, but it's not like you don't know the reason for this change in behavior.

“Quiet?” A breathless chuckle escapes him, his eyes closing for a moment before he continues, “I wouldn't be surprised if the entire street heard me before.”

“Before?” You tilt your head to the side, feigning ignorance. “Oh you mean when I pushed inside you and stretched you out so good?” You press your hips into him, grinding slowly until he lets out a choked gasp. “I hope they did. You sounded so beautiful for me.”

Lucien rewards you with one of those sweet moans of his at the reminder, his eyes falling closed once more as he clenched around your strap, his cock leaking more and more. He was almost trembling in anticipation, and your patience had long since left you.

You shift your weight onto your palms, positioning them flat on the mattress on each side of his waist, leaning closer into him. The movement made you go even deeper inside him, your hips pressed flush against the back of his thighs, prompting a proper moan from his agape mouth, and his eyes, full of desire, to finally lock on yours.

“I've let you adjust for long enough,” you start, trailing your eyes down his torso once more, the sight of him swallowing you so perfectly making you bite your lip, covering a moan of your own, before continuing, “I think you're ready for me now. Aren't you?”

His legs tighten around you, his eyes begging you to move, but you keep still, leaning down to leave an open mouthed kiss between his pecs, sucking a mark you wish wouldn't be healed in the next few minutes, your hands coming up to hold onto his waist. Gods, you don't understand how you've gotten so lucky.

Coming back before you lose yourself, you meet his eyes once more. “Lucien,” you tease, running a finger over the mark you had just left on his immaculate skin, and down to just above his cock, spreading some of his precum around, making a delicious mess, “you have to use your words or I won't know what you want.”

“I'm ready! Fuck, I'm ready,” he whines, a hand coming to circle around your wrist, keeping your hold on him, as if you'd ever consider letting go. “Please, I want to feel you, need you to fuck me.” And who are you to deny such a sweet request.

Tightening your hold on his waist, you pull back slowly, moaning out along with him as you watch his hole greedily trying to keep you in before slamming your hips against the back of his thighs, thrusting back into him, going as deep as you can.

“Like this? Need me to fuck you like this?”

“Yes, just like that,” he struggles out, bliss written across his face as you grab him hard enough to bruise and repeat the same motion over and over again, setting up a mind numbing pace.

Filthy sounds of wet skin slapping together, harsh breaths and needy moans quickly fill the room. Both of you losing yourselves in the moment as a mix of new sensations rush over your bodies. Having the Day Court heir whimpering your name as you fuck him senseless is bringing you an insurmountable amount of pleasure. It's almost unbelievable how wet you were when you hadn't even so much as touched yourself.

It seems the feeling is mutual as Lucien was whining and moaning even louder than when you were slowly stretching him out earlier, carefully pushing inside him for the first time. His hands grasping onto the sheets, desperately trying to ground himself somehow.

If no one had heard him before, they could definitely hear him now, or they would have if you hadn't thrown up a ward around you, greedily wanting to keep every delicious noise that fell from his lips to yourself. Although, a part of you almost wishes that everyone could really hear him screaming your name, so that they knew this male was yours and yours alone, and only you could make him feel like this.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you notice him reach down for his cock, gripping it firmly and stroking himself in time with your thrusts. It's then you realize how close he already was, his head thrown back against the mattress, eyes closed tightly and mouth open, whiny, incoherent moans escaping with every thrust of your hips, his muscles spasming under you.

The sight makes you grab onto his thighs, pushing them back against his body and spreading him even more for you. This new angle allowed you to go impossibly deeper, a scream escaping him when you hit a special spot inside him with your thick strap.

“Fuck, Luci,” you let out almost in disbelief. “You're being so good for me. Taking me so, so well.” The only answer you receive is the feeling of him clamping down around you and a filthy moan that sounded enough like your name.

Focusing back on the way he swallowed you greedily, you push even deeper, grinding harder into him, until you feel him tense against you, a shudder running through his entire body as his climax hits him, drowning him in intense pleasure like a flood.

Curses fall from his mouth as you keep fucking him through his orgasm, watching every one of his facial expressions and the way his fist tightens over his own cock, pulling out rope after rope of cum, painting his stomach and chest with his seed, some of it even reaching his throat. You can't help but lean down and lick it off him, chuckling softly when you feel the moan it pulls out of him vibrating against your tongue.

With a loving peck you abandon his neck, having to pull back entirely too soon so you can keep fucking him through his orgasm. You don't stop or slow down when he comes down, simply smiling down at him when his desperate eyes find yours, understanding what you have in mind for him.

“What-” A sharp thrust of your hips cuts him off into a needy moan, his fingers gripping onto the soiled sheets once more.

“You look so beautiful for me,” you say, leaning over him, your gazes locking, “I think it's only fair I take care of you properly, no?”