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mashtatosworld · 2 months ago

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heiress of my heart

summary: G-Dad and Diva have a shopping addiction...

The day usually starts with the little diva waking up the whole house.

Not crying - no, she was far too dramatic and refined for that. Instead, she simply calls out for her Appa, repeatedly, until he has no choice but to wake up and get her from the crib.

"Appa." A pause. "Appa." Another pause. "APPA."

Jiyong groans beside you, his face buried in the pillow. Zoa sat loafed on his back. "Five more minutes," he mumbles.

"APPA."

You sigh, sitting up in bed and carefully plucking the grey cat off his back, pulling her into your arms. She settled immediately, always ready for a cuddle. "She’s not stopping until you go get her."

“I hurt, jagi," Jiyong peeks at you through messy hair, pouting. "Why aren't you hungover?"

You had shared a bottle of wine last night after putting Diva to bed.

"Because I'm not an old man," you smirk teasingly.

Defeated, he rolls out of bed, shuffling down the hall in his plush Chanel robe and slippers - because even half-asleep, Kwon Jiyong is still Jiyong. The father of your diva.

He returns moments later with said baby in his arms, her small hands clinging onto his pyjama shirt as she rests her cheek against his shoulder.

"She said she only wants Eomma now," he complains, dropping onto the bed with his mini-me. "I was just the transport."

Diva crawls towards you and snuggles into your side, gently petting the sleeping cat with one finger, just like you'd taught her. You smile at her lovingly.

Jiyong sighs dramatically. “I give this child everything...”

But he doesn’t mean it - because ten minutes later, after some morning milk and cartoons, your diva is climbing all over him, stealing his hat, and demanding attention.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong insists on dressing Diva every morning.

"She has to be cool, jagi. She’s my daughter.”

Today, he’s in front of her wardrobe, holding up two outfits.

"This one?" He shows her a tiny blue Burberry sweater and cargo pants.

"Or this one?" A Chanel dress with tiny matching shoes.

Diva stares at him blankly. Then she points at her pajamas.

“No.” Jiyong is scandalised. “We don’t wear pyjamas all day in this house.”

You sip your coffee, sitting beside Diva on the floor, thoroughly amused. “You do."

“I'm an old man, remember?” he defends, using your own words against you, before turning back to your daughter.

Diva yawns and crawls into your lap. She’s over it.

Jiyong sighs, heading back into her wardrobe for more inspiration.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong doesn’t go anywhere without Diva by his side. Whether it’s a quick errand, a café trip, or a studio visit - she’s his little shadow.

Today, he takes her out shopping since you wanted to work on writing some new songs and it was nearly impossible with the pair of them around.

If Diva wasn't clinging to your legs, it was Jiyong.

But only an hour after they left, you receive a Facetime call on your phone. It’s Jiyong and Diva, inside a store. He’s pointing his camera at a Chanel bag on display.

"Should we get this for Eomma?"

Diva stands beside it, holding a smaller, identical one, nodding her head.

Jiyong flips the camera to his face, and chuckles. "She has Eomma’s taste."

You roll your eyes, "Ji, I don't need another one."

"Yah, yah bad connection in here- gotta go, we love you!"

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Hours later, they stop for snacks at a quiet café.

Diva sips from a Chanel-branded baby cup. Yet another purchase he'd have to disguise from you. But to Jiyong, it was an investment. Your next babies would get to use it too.

Jiyong, feeling sentimental, strokes her tiny hand.

“You know, Princess, someday, you might have a little brother or sister.”

Diva freezes.

She slowly lowers her cup.

Jiyong waits.

She stares at him for a long moment.

Then -

She throws her cup onto the floor.

Jiyong jumps. “What - ”

Diva glares. “No.”

He blinks. “No?”

She crosses her arms. “No.”

“Baby, you’d be the best big sister!”

Diva shakes her head violently.

Jiyong looks around, panicked. “Okay, okay, let’s not - ”

But Diva is already kicking her legs, huffing, and looking seconds away from a meltdown.

Jiyong FaceTimes you immediately.

As soon as you pick up, you hear Diva wailing in the background.

Jiyong looks stressed. “Jagi, we have a crisis.”

You blink, putting your pen down with a sigh. “What did you do?”

“I said she might get a sibling, and now she’s - ” he turns the camera.

Diva is full-on sulking, arms folded, cheeks puffed, absolute betrayal on her face.

You laugh. “She’s one and a half. She’ll change her mind.”

Jiyong looks horrified. “But what if she doesn’t?”

“She will.”

He turns back to Diva. “Baby, don’t you want someone to play with?”

Diva pouts.

"Princess?"

She turns her head away dramatically.

Jiyong deflates. “She’s ignoring me.”

You laugh harder. “You’re scared of her.”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

He never tells her off. In all fairness, he never really had to. They were two peas in a pod.

Jiyong sighs. “I might be.”

And then - he hangs up.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong carries Diva inside, arms full of shopping bags.

You stare. “Jiyong - ”

He cuts you off. “Before you say anything, we've had a stressful day.”

You fold your arms. His idea of retail therapy was excessive.

He sets Diva down, and she immediately runs off calling for the cats, her tiny shoes tapping against the floor. He shifts under your scrutiny, finally admitting, "I had to buy my way back into her heart, okay?"

You blink, glancing at the sheer number of bags he’s just abandoned in the entryway. “Ji, I’m sure a juice box would have cut it.”

He drops onto the chair opposite you, rubbing his face. “You weren’t there. She looked at me like I’d betrayed her. My own daughter.”

You laugh. “I did warn you. She needs friends other than us.”

He groans. “Jagi, what are we gonna do?” His voice is almost distant, like he’s lost in some great, existential crisis.

You laugh, closing your notebook. “Not let our lives be ruled by a toddler?”

He gives you a look. “What do you mean?”

Diva’s voice rings from the other room. “Appa, juice!”

Jiyong is already on his feet. “Coming, my Princess!”

You watch him go, shaking your head. A wave of love washed over you so you opened your notebook again, finally feeling the words pour out of you.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

i wrote this for another fic i'll be posting soon! featuring the adventures of g-dad, eomma and diva ofc

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev

#kpop #bigbang #gdragon #kwon jiyong #mashtatosworld #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #gdad

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hayatoseyepatch · 4 months ago

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𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷: Sae had never been good with vocalizing what he wanted. He always took what he wanted, a man who beleived in actions and results over meaningless words. Besides, you were already his, so why fret over asking for a taste of you?

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻: Sae Itoshi (Blue Lock)

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 2.1k

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼: Sae x Fem!Insert SMUT. 𝓒𝔀: Fingering, degradation, praise, penetrative sex, hair pulling, unprotected sex, one mention of spanking, use of nicknames, Sae maybe being a little ooc.

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻’𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: This is my contribution for the @pixelcafe-network's Secret Santa event! @lumiambrose I hope you like it this was so much fun to write and I so enjoyed being your little elf. This is my first time writing for Sae so I hope you like it my love, Merry early Christmas!! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა₊˚｡❆

The feeling of Sae’s hands against your skin is something you are more than accustomed to, he would rather die than admit it, but the feel of you beneath his fingertips was something he craved. He spent months away from you at a time throughout the year, keeping you from him. Sure you both never went a single day without speaking but nothing could match the warmth of your skin, the scent of you, he wanted to encompass his senses with nothing but you. So on the rare occasion that he was home he was hard pressed to tear himself away from you.

Even now, as you both are on the couch, you are curled into each other’s sides. Sae paid little mind to the Christmas movie playing on the screen, no, he couldn’t care less about it. How could he? Your form pressed against him, clad in nothing but some warm socks and a ridiculous holiday sweater that barely brushed mid-thigh. One hand busied itself with the globe of your ass, gently kneading the flesh that lay beneath the material of your clothes. This was also something you were quite used to at this point. If Sae’s hands were on you, it wasn’t long until they sought out the tender flesh.

And it was even shorter before his hands started to wander.

He loved taking advantage of the way you were so akin to his touch on your skin, it only made it that much easier for him to glide his fingers along your skin without so much as a raised eyebrow. So, with his eyes mindlessly locked onto the screen, faux attentiveness graces his features as he begins to move. The hand caressing your thigh continues its fluid motion, traveling closer and closer to your heat with every pass. On the other hand, deciding it had been dormant at your hip for far too long slides under the fabric of your sweater. The cold appendage, slid up the warm soft skin of your stomach, before taking a mound in his hand. A perfect handful of delicate flesh as always, he lets his fingers press into the softness as he nuzzles into your neck. Nose burring into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, eyes still never losing focus on the TV.

The subtle ways your body reacted to his was what truly was his favorite part of you. He never missed a beat. Sae Itoshi never misses an opening, he’s tactical and has developed an unmatched pinpoint accuracy. Every hitched breath, every subtle arch of your back, every whimper you try to swallow. None of it goes missed by him. So as his hand slid to grip the plush of your hip, there was no way he would miss the subtle intake of breath. Your eyes desperately still locked onto the television where some droning Christmas cartoon played out on the screen. There was no way he would not take note of the subtle angling of your hip when his fingers traced the hem of your panties at the apex of your thigh. The way you placed down your glass of hot chocolate as your fingers started to tremble as he kept with his movement, torturingly tracing the hem of your panties and the tops of your thighs. Try as you might to deny the way your body reacted to his on a subconscious chemical level, you couldn’t deny the way your cunt was already drooling at the subtlest of touches.

The hand on your thigh finally traveled to your heat, fortunate that the only barrier between his fingers and your clit were the thin panties now drenched with your slick. He uses that as leverage to allow his index and middle finger to circle the nub, wet fabric clinging to the sensitive area easily as he draws lazy circles against you. Mouth beginning its own movements, tongue lolling out to slide against your neck, lips, and teeth pawing at the area. While they were busy with that, his other hand released itself from cupping you opting instead to take a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently. He has to conceal the grin that threatens to pull at his lips, keeping up his façade of distraction, using your body as no more than a fidget toy for his wandering hands and mouth.

Taking note of your horrid attempt to swallow the moan that threatened to slip from your lips, watching the way you bit down on the side of your cheek. Seeing the tears forming along your lash line, unblinking, trying your hardest to pay attention to the movie, though it was proving to be pointless. Unable to focus on the lines spoken due to the pleasure wreaking havoc across your body from his wandering touch. The added pleasure from his tongue and the change in place from his abuse to your chest, had a soft whimper being pulled from your lips as your head rolled back further exposing your neck to his trailing kisses.

Getting tired of missing skin-to-skin contact, his fingers remove themselves from the circles they were drawing, opting instead to push your panties to the side, finally coming into contact with your clit fully without a barrier. He slides down, dipping the tips of his fingers into your entrance, just enough to gather some additional wetness from your dripping cunt before resuming his previous ministrations. He continues to place kisses and licks to your neck, relishing in the fact there was more skin available to him, the hand on your nipple switching to its twin so as not to leave you feeling neglected there. He had decided he'd teased you long enough, now that your body had reacted so blissfully to his, the noises you were letting escape only viable as proof of that.

“That’s my girl. Already dripping for me, mi amor. Always so responsive to me, angel. Like your body craves my touch without even a thought in that pretty head otherwise.”

His voice was devoid of its typical monotone, taking more of a mocking purr as his words were spoken into the shell of your ear. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as his fingers continued drawing maddening circles over your sensitive pearl. He knew you craved more, could feel the way your cunt clenched around nothing, but you were going to have to admit it. He grabbed to hear how needed he was in that beautiful voice

“Sae.. fuck… please” Your voice was desperate, your cheeks flushing as you heard it in your own ears.

“If I knew you were this needy I would've taken you on the dining room table and not have bothered with coming in here.”

His voice held a mocking tone, one he often took on when he was pent up after being away for some time.

“You'd like that though, wouldn't you? Eating a meal with my brother, knowing the last time you were at that table I was fucking you into it, your dribbling cunt leaking onto the wood from just how fucking wet you were mi amor?”

He releases you from his grip, fingers slipping from your center, as he grabs the back of your neck using that and his legs as leverage to urge you forward. He effectively switches your positions so he now has you face-first into the plush of the couch. Using the hand gripping the back of your neck as leverage to push your face further into the material. His lips are poised at your ear as he hovers over your frame.

“Who am I, though, to deny such a pretty request?”

His hands made quick work, pushing the fabric of your sweater up past your hips, exposing your skin to his hungry gaze. Your plump ass and drooling cunt, still visible due to your panties that had long been slid to the side. His hand comes in contact with the skin of your ass before either of you could truly catch it, the sound of the slap echoing off the walls. He soothes a hand over the reddening skin, gipping your skin as his other hand deftly slides down the hem of his sweats. His cock springs free from the material, slamming the entirety of his length past your velvety walls with ease due to just how wet you were for him.

“God, angel, look at you, sucking me in so eagerly, you miss me that bad, hm?”

He doesn’t afford you the opportunity to respond, sliding nearly all the way out until only the head of his cock remained, before surging his hips forward as he impales you on his cock once more. He sets a steady pace, eyes rolling back at the delicious sounds he pulls from your lips and your cunt that would rival any cheers he would ever receive at a game. He reaches forward, fingers wrapping your hair in a makeshift ponytail. Using it as leverage to pull you back against him bodies flush together as his grip guides the way he was fucking up into you. He picks up speed, allowing you to hear all the filthy noises he was making while pounding into you with reckless abandon.

"Do you hear that, angel? Hear how sloppy that fucking cunt is for me?”

Sae keeps his agonizing pace, though hitting that spot that he knows makes your eyes roll back, his thrusts are deep and shallow not allowing for you to get any closer than you were right now. After a few more harsh slaps of his hips against yours, he removes himself from you entirely, letting go of your hair and sliding from inside you. The distance doesn't last for long, grabbing under your knee and flipping you with ease until you're on your back looking up at him. He grabs you by the undersides of both your knees this time, pressing them to your chest before slamming the entirety of his length back inside of you

“Missed that pretty face, angel, I want to see every face you make while I fuck you”

His words came out gritted through clenched teeth the way you looked up at him through teary lashes was enough to have warmth bubbling up within his belly. The cries of his name and the way your walls engulfed his cock, squeezing him, was more than enough of an indicator that you were right there with him. His hips continue their brutal treatment as his cock bullies the velvety walls of your cunt. He must have been more pent-up than he thought he was, Sae wasn't necessarily a vocal guy when it came to sex. However, the feel of your walls clamping down on him as he lets out the last couple months of pent-up frustration out on you has him tossing his head back, groans, and growls falling from his lips at a volume you didn't think he was capable of. His expression morphs into a teasing grin as he lets out a deep laugh at your fucked out expression. Hand releasing your legs, grinning when you keep them there so he can rub tight circles over your puffy clit.

“Sae.. fuck.. go good. I’m close.” You whimper through broken moans, the sound like music to his ears. “Gonna, fuck, can I? Please need to cum on your cock Sae..”

Feeling your tightening and recognizing it immediately as you being close. He picks up speed on his thrusts as well as the fingers circling your clit. He looks at your pleading gaze and listens to your cries, expression softening for a moment. He leans down movements slowing to allow him to kiss you full of passion and ferocity throwing every ounce of love he has for you into the kiss. Never being so good with his words but showing his love for your through action. The way his tongue slid past your lips to tangle with your own, never ceasing his ministrations has you both roughly thrown over the edge. His thrusts grew sloppy at the way your walls spasmed around his cock, hips rocking with his own to ride out both of your highs as he pumps rope after rope of cum inside of your waiting cunt.

The two of your movements slowly wind to a close, his cock still buried inside you as you both caught your breath. Sae presses kisses against the side of your face, stopping their trail ad he finally places a sweet kiss to your lips. Pulling away and resting on you without crushing you under his weight.

“Wanna just stay like this for a minute feeling you, then we'll get you all cleaned up, have a nice bath and relax, I love you my angel.”

Sure, Sae sometimes struggled with voicing his emotions, but in moments like these, only few words needed to be said when you could more than feel just how much you meant to him.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune & me. Character banner and writing by me.

#blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae smut #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi smut #bllk smut #bllk x reader #₊⊹⁀➴ — Events #✐ᝰ. — samwrites

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angsty-art-ist · 3 months ago

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part 2 of the NPMD Monster High AU! seriously thank you guys for all the love on part 1, it means a lot that you like my silly hyperfixation crossover :]

a little lore note: in this AU, monsters can use magic to blend in with humans during the day, sort of like in the g3 cartoon. Hatchetfield is kind of split into the normie side and smaller monster side. the monster part of town is magically warded to make humans want to leave quickly, and monsters don’t tend to cross over into the human areas (with the exception of adults with normie jobs, like Mayor Lauter and most of the adult HF cast). Hatchetfield High is a “exclusive private school” in the monster part of town, and the normie teens, like Grace and Max, go to Sycamore.

why are Grace and Max humans if this is a monster AU, you ask? don’t worry, i have plans for them :)

Steph:

she’s a vampire because… well because she’s rich. you’ve heard of old money? these Lauters are ancient money

i had a hard time with her outfit because my main references were Draculaura and Elissabat, who are both very dressy, but i wanted to stay true to Steph’s casual grungy style… and then i remembered The Lost Boys were THEE original grunge vampires, so i mashed David and Paul’s jackets together and gave her a Santa Carla tee as a shout-out

the chains and plaid pattern tie back to Pete’s design, like the plaid of her flannel and his bow tie in the show <3

her father isn’t technically actually a king, but runs Hatchetfield’s monster community like he is one. a close encounter with a band of monster hunters the better part of a century ago forced the monsters into hiding under his command, and Steph’s mother ended up staked. Solomon hasn’t been the same since…

Max:

his design is simpler than the others, but that’s for a reason :) the mansters usually have more boring outfits than the ghouls, so it’s not that out of place for Monster High, right? i plan to make a few more ‘doll lines’ for this au- i’m thinking Dawn of the Dance next ;)

his jacket is based on the G1 varsity jackets that Heath Burns and Slo Mo had in their first waves, but with Max’s iconic blue. i got rid of the Hatchetfield ‘H’ since he goes to Sycamore with the other normies in this AU. go Timberwolves, i guess?

his striped shirt is based on Freddy Krueger’s iconic sweater, because Max in the musical seems to take a lot of cues from Freddy; coming back from the dead to get revenge on his killers, vulgar one-liners, gruesome kills, and even a parody of the Freddy rhyme painted on the set background. one, two, Jäger’s coming for you…

side note but i had a really hard time getting Will’s likeness in this pseudo-MH style. i think he ended up a bit too Bruce Campbell-y. maybe it’s the chin.

Grace:

sorry, Grace, i’m changing your name a bit. if you need a refresher on the G1 MH lore; Van Hellscream is the Monster High expy of Van Helsing. his niece Lilith appears in the Ghouls Rule movie, but i’m stretching out the timeline a bit so let’s say Lilith is Grace’s aunt or something. Chasity is her maiden name, which the family goes by because “Hellscream doesn’t sound very Christian”

these days, the Van Hellscream’s monster-hunting legacy is more of a family legend than history, and her parents don’t even believe that monsters exist… but Grace knows that something unholy is going on at that “private school”. she may not have Great-Uncle Abraham’s arsenal, but she has the power of God and years of repressed rage on her side

design wise she changed the least from her canon outfit. she’s covered in monster-killing weapons- crosses, stakes, silver bullets, and the flowers on her blouse and jeans are alliums, aka garlic flowers- which, fun fact, were originally thought to be what repelled vampires, rather than garlic bulbs!

her blouse is based on Nancy’s nightdress in Nightmare on Elm Street to match with Max’s Freddy stripes

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qtubbo · 1 year ago

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It’s so funny how off Pac looks next to the rest of Morning crew, because they all wear fairly muted or brown colors while Pac wears a bright neon blue hoodie. Tubbo’s current skin, main color soft muted green, with secondary white and light blue colors. Bagi’s skin main colors dark brown and dark green, with a light blue sweater. Fit light brown, with a soft green and blue as secondaries. Pac who decided not to get with the program wears bright neon blue, with yellow and cyan as secondaries, along with the only one to wear so much pure black.

Every time I line them up it looks like I pulled Pac from a kids cartoon. Love him and his oddities anyways.

#qsmp #Qsmp pac #qsmp tubbo #qsmp bagi #qsmp fit #morning crew

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is-the-thing-actually-jewish · 1 year ago

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are Hanukkah sweaters a Jewish thing? i've seen them before but 90% of the time, they're people trying to make christmas displays more "inclusive." so are they legit Jewish or no?

Rating: Capitalism.

Hanukkah sweaters are a prime example of what I previously characterized as "capitalism's tendency to tepidly repackage any Christmas symbols in literally or metaphorically blue-and-silver wrapping paper to appeal to a Jewish market." As the "ugly sweater" phenomenon has grown more popular, retailers saw an excellent opportunity to widen their market by having "Hanukkah" versions.

That said, there's a wide range of Hanukkah sweaters out there, some of which are more problematic than others. Ones that are literally just recolored Christmas designs with a couple Jewish-y things tacked on, like this "Shalom Gnome" design or this "Oy to the World" design are more problematic than enthusiastically tacky designed-from-the-beginning-to-be-Jewish ones. The former says "Hanukkah! It's Christmas for Jews! Jews! They're just Christians without Santa or Jesus!" while the latter says, "Oh, you're going to walk around with an eyesore sweater full of tinsel and actual little jingle bells as though anyone could possibly forget that it's Christmas season in this country? I see you, I see you, and I'm just going to casually wear this sweater with a menorah and candles that actually light up because Judaism rocks, that's why."

Then there's a whole genre of Hanukkah sweaters with, let's say, more adult content, and people's mileage may greatly vary on how they feel about them. Personally, I find the ones riffing off more secular aspects of the holiday to be largely harmless, such as this "You Spin Me Right Round, Baby" design with dreidels. On the other hand, while some may find it amusingly subversive, I find ones making fun of the religious part of the holiday (i.e., the actual hanukkiah/menorah) to be in poor taste at best. There are a plethora of "let's get lit" Hanukkah sweaters like this one that genuinely annoy me. (For one thing, Hanukkah isn't even a drinking holiday! If you want a drinking holiday, we actually have those but Hanukkah isn't it!) Ones like this that make it into a creepy pick-up line actively disgust me. And this "gelt digger" one is genuinely antisemetic, given the stereotypes about Jews and money.

I would be remiss not to mention what I personally think is the best of the Hanukkah sweater subgenres: animal puns. My fiance owns this Meowzel Tov sweater with a truly garish design. What does "mazel tov" have to do with Hanukkah, you may ask? Absolutely nothing, but hey, cats! Can't be upset about Jewish cats! Similarly, llamas? Not Jewish at all! But Happy Llamakka? Okay, cute pun, cute graphic, I'm reluctantly charmed. Your Menorasaurus would not be kosher for actual use as the candles are all different heights, but you know what, that actually makes me smile.

So, basically: If you get joy out of being loudly Jewish during a season where everything is yelling about Christianity all the time, go ahead and wear your ridiculous ugly sweater to the company party. Just take a close look at the design to make sure it's not actually full of Christmas trees, not pretending something extremely Christmas is Jewish because it's a pun now, doesn't use Charedi men as a cartoon stand-in for anyone Jewish, and doesn't makes being Jewish primarily about not being Christian.

In sum: RIP my browser history, I'm going to be getting such terrible ads for the next several weeks. Click the links at your own risk.

~Mod Leora

#rating: capitalism #hanukkah #hanukkah sweaters #christian hegemony #jumblr #animal puns

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s1ut-4-rafe · 11 days ago

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casual + extra: Reader after leaving, she becomes pregnant with rafe's baby but she's already moved to wherever and she began raising her bby, and then years past, they met again because of rafes business trip and unexpectadly saw reader doing groceries with her child, and make rafe self reflect abt their times together and how reader was genuinely hurting during their casual moments. and then he later learns that the child was his because he saw that the child is basically a carbon copy of him. AAAAAAA (feel free to ignore this, i daydream to much)

Casual | Continued...

Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Word Count - 1587

Two years had passed since you left. Two years since you walked away from him, the man who had never understood the weight of his words or the heaviness of his actions. And yet, despite everything, you carried a piece of him inside you.

At first, you hadn’t realized. The pregnancy came as a surprise, one you hadn’t expected after that one last night with Rafe. The night that had felt like it was meant to be something more, something deeper, but turned out to be just another casualty of miscommunication and misalignment.

You had thought you could walk away from him, that leaving was the best thing for you, but there was no preparing for the shock when you found out you were carrying his child.

You left town. Moved far enough away that it felt like you could start over, like you could build something new without constantly bumping into reminders of the past. You were near the coast, just close enough to the Outer Banks to catch a whiff of salty air on a windy day, you settled into a quiet, simple life.

You didn’t want to reach out to him, couldn’t, even if you’d wanted to. You knew that once you told him, he’d either run or promise to be there and fail. So, you chose silence. You raised your child on your own, as much as your heart ached for the life you could have had if things had been different.

Your son grew quickly, and every day, you learned more about him. How he looked just like Rafe, the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited, the small smile that always seemed to dance at the corners of his lips. He was Rafe’s, through and through, even if Rafe never knew it.

You were still in that small, quiet town when you saw him again.

It was an ordinary day, your son in your arms as you pushed the cart through the aisles. Your son was busy scanning the shelves for the cereal you always bought, the one with the cartoon characters he loved. He was so innocent, so unaware of the emotions that were brewing just outside his little bubble.

You saw him before he saw you. Rafe. Standing by the produce section, looking a little too perfect in a blue and white striped sweater that probably cost more than your whole month’s rent. He hadn't changed much, still the same Rafe you knew all those years ago, but now there was something in his posture that was different. He was a bit older. More worn.

You tried to brush it off. But there was no ignoring the fact that your son, with his dark hair and bright blue eyes, was unmistakably his.

Rafe’s eyes met yours, and time slowed for just a moment. The connection was instantaneous, and it hurt. It was like every unspoken word from the past rushed forward, crashing into the present.

Rafe glanced down at your child, then back at you. His face changed in an instant, confusion, disbelief, and something else… guilt? He didn’t speak at first, just stared, trying to process what he was seeing.

You watched him, all those old feelings bubbling up like an ancient wound reopening. But you stayed calm, steady, and determined. There was nothing left to say to him.

"Is... is he...?" Rafe started, his voice tentative, as if he couldn't quite believe what was in front of him.

You met his gaze, calm but heavy with everything that had passed between you two. “Yeah. This is your son.”

The silence stretched, his mind working through the revelation, piecing it together, bit by bit. The resemblance wasn’t subtle. Your son’s eyes. His smile. That curious, unguarded way he looked at the world, like Rafe did when he let his guard down... before everything had fallen apart.

Rafe’s eyes flickered with emotion, something raw and unprocessed. You could see it how the reality was starting to sink in. He looked between you and your son, like he was trying to find the right words.

“I... I didn’t know,” he whispered, almost to himself. "I had no idea."

You shook your head slowly. “No. You didn’t.”

There was no bitterness in your voice, just the weight of truth. You had done it. You had raised your son without him, and while it had been hard, you had never regretted it. The man standing before you now didn’t hold that kind of power over your life anymore.

Rafe seemed lost for words. “I—I'm sorry,” he muttered, almost too quietly for you to hear.

You paused for a beat, watching your son as he played with the string on your hoodie, oblivious to the gravity of the moment. “You don’t have to apologize. I don’t need you to. I did this on my own, Rafe. I didn’t need you then, and I don’t need you now.”

His eyes dropped, that familiar guilt creeping in. He stepped closer, but you took a step back. “You don’t get to just waltz in now,” you said, a quiet intensity behind your words. “You don’t get to pretend like this changes anything.”

He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come.

You watched him, this man who had once been so casual with your heart, who had made you feel disposable, like you were nothing more than a fleeting moment in his life. The same man who left you questioning your worth. You couldn’t let him do it again.

But as you stood there, a sudden realization hit you. Seeing him again, seeing him try to process this, the pain was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp. It was like a dull ache now, a part of you that had faded with time.

“I don’t hate you, Rafe,” you said softly. “But I’m not the same person I was when we first met.”

You turned away, your heart strangely at peace, even as it beat a little faster. Your son, your future, this was your focus now. You didn’t need Rafe to validate any of it.

Behind you, Rafe stood frozen, his gaze still lingering on the child who was, unmistakably, his. And as you pushed the cart toward the checkout, you knew that this was the end of something, even if he wasn’t ready to let go.

Rafe’s POV

I stood there, completely still, like I had been struck by lightning. My chest tightened, my mind racing, unable to keep up with the surreal moment I had just stumbled into. My heart pounded as I watched you walk away, and everything inside me screamed to stop you. To say something. To explain. But the words wouldn’t come.

My eyes flickered down to the boy, your son, and then back to you, walking away, a quiet but unwavering finality in your steps. The resemblance between us hit me like a freight train.

A carbon copy. Your son’s wide eyes, his dark brown hair, the small set of his jaw. I felt a wave of realization wash over me, the fog lifting as everything clicked. The kid wasn’t just similar to me. He was me, in every way that mattered.

A sinking feeling took root in my stomach. It was like a punch in the gut, one that left me breathless. This child, this boy who was too young to understand any of this, was mine. My son. My blood. My legacy.

I had been so careless. So detached. I was in and out of your life like you were just another convenience, a fleeting distraction. I had never really seen you for who you were, what you needed. I had ignored every small thing that should have mattered.

My mind was spiraling. Memories from the past flickered in my mind, unbidden. The nights when I left you cold, the casual words I’d thrown your way when you needed me most. The way you had looked at me, eyes brimming with something deep and unsaid, something I didn’t want to see then. I had shut it out, pretending it didn’t matter. And now, standing here, in the quiet aisle of a grocery store, I realized how wrong I had been.

I had hurt you.

That night, the night you had walked away from me without a second thought, I had assumed you were fine. That you were just another girl who had wanted something casual. It had been my defense mechanism, too: keep things light, keep things easy, never give too much, never expect too much. But now, in the wake of this revelation, I saw it differently.

I had hurt you. And not just emotionally. I had taken so much from you without ever giving anything in return. You had carried so much weight, so much pain, on your own, and I was too selfish to notice.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, just staring after you, but when I finally turned and walked toward the checkout, my heart was heavy. I could still hear your voice in my head. “I don’t need you now.”

You didn’t need me. Maybe you never truly did. And for the first time, I understood what that truly meant.

You were everything, and I failed you.

As I loaded my groceries into the car, I found myself staring at the empty space where my future should have been, and I couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

My son was a stranger to me. And it’s all my fault.

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

Thank you for the request love! Enjoy!

#inbox #request #casual asks #s1ut-4-rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron obx

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queerfables · 1 year ago

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Why all the crowd scenes look the same, aka: Something is WRONG in Soho

I'm not even gonna tease and draw this out because it's so cool it doesn't need the fanfare. Ready?

Season 2 takes place over the course of 5 days. During that time, most of the passersby in Soho - maybe even all of them - stay exactly the same. It's the same people every day, wearing the exact same clothes, and they wander through the neighbourhood in paths that don't make any sense. You won't be able to unsee it. I can't believe it's taken us this long to realise.

Don't believe me? Rewatch the scene from 2x03, I Know Where I'm Going where Shax confronts Crowley outside the bookshop, appearing in a series of different guises. Pay attention to the people going past.

I've marked out five people you see on screen when Crowley first exits the bookshop at 39:37:

Numbers 1, 2 and 3 are following the path right. Number 4 follows the path left. Number 5 crosses the road.

Here the five people are again, at 40:19, when Crowley goes to return to the bookshop:

Number 5 is still visible in the distance, in the direction she walked in. This makes sense! But numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4 are rounding the same corner they just passed. It's as though 1, 2 and 3 all decided to turn and head back the way they came just 40 seconds ago, and number 4 has circled the block to join them.

This on its own would be super weird, but they're not the only people to do that in this scene. The man in the purple sweater from the first picture crosses the road, then appears back next to the bookshop, then starts walking back the way he came again.

Here's the part that made me absolutely certain, though. At 40:05, a man wearing an orange hoodie with blue sleeves walks past Crowley, who is heading towards the bookshop entrance.

The camera cuts to a view from behind Crowley, and a moment later, at 40:08...

He reappears in front of Crowley and walks past him again.

It's such a distinctive outfit, there's no mistaking it. They are absolutely fucking with the background characters and they are absolutely doing it on purpose.

Your turn. There are at least three other characters in this scene who pass by multiple times. Watch it again and try to spot them.

This scene is really chaotic and obvious, but the phenomena I'm talking about is much bigger than just one scene. Let's go back to the first thing I said: the background characters don't change. All our leads do. Maggie and Nina wear distinctive outfits, clearly demarcating each new day. Even Crowley and Aziraphale, who in season 1 were like cartoon characters with wardrobes full of identical clothing, vary their looks. Crowley changes his (very subtly) each day; Aziraphale is less rigid on timing, but he has a few different coats that he switches between. The background characters, on the other hand, wear the same outfits every single day. They walk by on the street but they never actually seem to have a destination. They sit in the coffee shop or pub and don't eat or drink anything, and nearly everyone leaves together exactly on closing time. It's eerie.

For reference's sake, here's a rough timeline of season 2, with pictures of Maggie and Nina's outfits to show the passing of time. I had to outsource this section because my post was too image heavy, lol. The main point I wanted to make is that five days go by.

Five days, and all the same faces keep showing up in the background, and almost none of them change their clothes. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but there's no way it's an accident. It might, in fact, be a game changer. To me this is proof positive that something is not as it seems. I've been a massive Clue skeptic, adamant that I'd only be convinced by the most unambiguous evidence, and honestly? This is enough to move the dials. It's too big for me to ignore. Whatever grand explanation of Good Omens we come up with has to account for this. I don't have it yet, but my current working theories are that Crowley and Aziraphale are under some seriously heavy surveillance, that time warping is involved, or that reality itself is not what it seems.

It would take a really long time for me to go through all of the background characters who turn up over and over but I do want to show you what I'm talking about. To wrap up, then, I'm going to pick out some memorable characters and walk you through a few of their appearances through the week. I highly recommend looking out for this yourself on your next rewatch and seeing how many other characters you can recognise.

Yellow Skirt

The first person I kept coming back to as being not quite right. You probably remember her from the first episode - she's the one who waves and walks past Maggie and Nina the night they're locked in together. Incidentally, she's also Person Number 3 in the scene with Shax.

Day 1 (2x01 - 36:20):

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:03)

Day 3 (2x03 - 06:36)

Day 5 (2x06 - 30:00)

Coolest Leather Jacket In The World

It's not so easy to recognise people wearing lots of nondescript dark colours, but I love his hair and his jacket, so he stood out to me. I think there might be a lot more people who are wearing fairly nondescript clothes who I just can't recognise from episode to episode.

Day 2 (2x02 - 16:44)

Day 4 (2x04 - 41:20)

Day 5 (2x06 - 29:20)

Dressed In Mustard

Ms Mustard shows up everywhere. If you want to see what I mean about their paths not making sense, pay attention when she comes on screen, because she'll often show up a few times in succession and walk very purposefully to nowhere in particular. The thing that she is doing, essentially, is behaving like an extra in a tv show. Which of course she is, but you're supposed to make that invisible by not having the same person go back and forth in the same scene, or changing up their outfit each in-universe day to give the sense time is passing. Not doing that is a really deliberate choice.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:37)

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:03)

Day 3 (2x03 - 01:49)

Day 3 (2x03 - 37:07)

Day 5 (2x06 - 29:59)

Swishy Dress

This character shows up a lot in the first episode. I've struggled to find her in later episodes, though. None of the characters seem to follow the same patterns or show up to equal extents each day, which makes me think this isn't a straightforward time loop. I haven't actually cross referenced character appearances to in world times, though. Possibly this is a project for someone who's more across the time-related shenanigans than me.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:43)

Day 3 (2x03 - 07:01)

Yellow Vest

I've only seen this guy a handful of times, always around the French restaurant. I wonder if there's significance to that.

Day 2 (2x02 - 41:06)

Day 4 (2x05 - 12:49)

Fuzzy Blue Coat

Another background character who shows up frequently. The blue doesn't stand out quite as much as the yellows and reds some characters wear, but it's very distinctive.

While we're getting a lot of shots of the street, it's worth noting that I'm pretty sure the vehicles we see are also just the same few cars repeating each day. A lot of them are in neutral silvers and monochrome, but there's a couple of blue cars, one red, and one black and white that I'm fairly sure I've seen over and over through the season.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:45)

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:04)

Day 3 (2x03 - 02:00)

Day 5 (2x06 - 40:10)

Day 5 (2x06 - 48:56)

Day 5 (2x06 - 50:06)

One final note: Whatever this is, Nina's employee who you see in the background at the coffeeshop sometimes isn't affected by it. He's wearing different outfits each day. On the other hand, some of the other shopkeepers do seem affected. I'm fairly sure Mr Brown and Mrs Sandwich wear the same outfits a few different days, only changing because of Aziraphale at the ball.

And that's it! Thanks for reading and I hope your mind is blown as much as mine is.

EDIT:

Hey I don't mind anyone pointing out production reasons that this might be the case or disagreeing with my analysis (over-analysis, some might say 😉). Please be kind about it, though. I'm not ignorant of the practical limitations involved in film making, but some of these costumes were really distinctive in a way I thought might be intended to draw attention.

For those of you who do find this theory convincing, I feel I should mention that I was working under the assumption that this stuff would have taken a few days to film, even filming it all together. That would strongly suggest that the actors were deliberately costumed the exact same way over multiple days of shooting, which made me think it had to be purposeful. @coranax was kind enough to point out, though, that behind the scenes videos said the extras were filmed separately to the main actors because of Covid protocols. In that case, they could have done it in just one day and that weakens my confidence in its intentionality.

Finally, all of my points about the scene with Shax in 2x03 stand. That was not a case of accidental continuity errors, it was really elegantly choreographed to enhance the tension in the scene. I say that with confidence because the extras are doing exactly what Shax is doing: circling Crowley, appearing where he doesn't expect them, creating a whirlwind sense of being off balance and out of control. I think it's really cool and effective, whether there's a deeper meaning to it or not.

#good omens #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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propheticclown · 6 months ago

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I need you all to understand. I've seen so many people talk about how Eridan would be slaying the fashion scene. How his fashion sense is awesome and epic, or whatever. NO! Firstly, I wanna preface this by saying that Pesterquest falls under the category of "Dubiously Canon." so his massive closet isn't actually canon. But secondly, LOOK AT HIS FUCKING FIT, MY GUY!

THE DEEP BLUE WITH THE PURPLE??? THE CAPE??? THE HAIR??? BROOOOOTHER!!! THEY EVEN CHANGED THE COLORS OF HIS SCARF AND PANTS TO LOOK BETTER IN PESTERQUEST!

It's subtle but the color shifts towards indigo/cobalt rather than royal blue. "B-But what about March Eridan? March Eridan looks good and is canon!" I don't know how brainrotted you are from buying all your clothes from shien (derogatory) and temu (derogatory) to think that March Eridan looks good, but let me just show you what it looks like again to refresh your memory.

Ignoring the insanity that's even happening with this image in the first place, this IS the Original March Eridan image. Now let me tell you why this fit is more atrocious than Kankri Vantas' takes on feminism. 1. THE COLORS DO NOT WORK!!! His VIOLET symbol combined with MAGENTA arm warmers and thigh highs and a RED SKIRT???? AUUHHG NONE OF THESE COLORS LOOK AESTHETICALLY PLEASING TOGETHER IN A FASHION SENSE!!! NAME ONE TIME RED AND PURPLE HAVE EVER LOOKED GOOD TOGETHER IN TERMS OF FASHION??? 2. STRIPES AND FUCKING PLAID??? WHAT??? IN CARTOONS, MUSIC, BOOKS, AND EVEN FUCKING GAMES, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH "Ew stripes and plaid." IS SAID??? THAT IS LIKE THE NUMBER 1 NONO IN ANY FASHION WORLD!!! 3. AND WHILE THIS ONE IS A BIT OF A STRETCH, THERE IS NO CONVINCING ME THAT ERIDAN AMPORA WOULD WILLINGLY WEAR THIS SHIT! IT JUST DOES NOT MAKE SENSE FOR HIS CHARACTER TO WEAR THIS OUTFIT! FASHION IS A WAY OF EXPRESSING ONESELVES! FASHION, AS A MEDIUM OF ART, IS A WAY A PERSON CAN EXPRESS HOW THEY FEEL ON THE INSIDE! March Eridan as an outfit, artistically expresses confidence, empowerment and a general "I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me" energy. Here's the problem. Eridan at his base components is envious, closed off, emotionally volatile, and a massive fucking nerd, which the old outfit actually does express.

His clothes are long-sleeved, showing the least possible amount of skin he can, which usually can represent being closed off. His cape is large and grandiose, showing that he likes to be exaggerated and theatrical. His scarf indicates his nerdiness, with it being a reference to Harry Potter and how it could be a tie-back to his nerdy love of wizards. The only other outfit he's shown wearing is with a flashback to when he and Vriska were a kismesis.

Here the outfit, even with as little as we see of it, is big and intense. Unlike Vriska, who essentially doesn't change outfits, Eridan puts time and effort into each theatrical performance he considers himself to be a part of. He adores intricate and exaggerated outfits. Things that are fancy, complex, and over-the-top. So that even though he doesn't feel great on the inside, even though he feels as though he's "wworse than evverybody. all the bodies." He can still look well put together. And that's WHY I don't think March Eridan as an outfit works. It's too casual for him. It's not big or flashy in a way he likes. There's not enough for him. It doesn't cover him up and because of that, he'd feel exposed. He's not closed off anymore. It doesn't exude "Eridan Ampora". Who's "most casual" piece of apparel is probably a sweater vest.

Even in the original image, he looks uncomfortable, like he doesn't actually LIKE wearing it. The only way I can find this artistically working from a writing standpoint is if Kanaya made it for him because, in the story, it is shown time and time again that Kanaya doesn't understand Eridan, so by making him this outfit, she'd take it a step further by not even understanding what he likes. Kanaya doesn't understand that Eridan is terrified of being culled, because Kanaya doesn't have to worry about that. Kanaya doesn't understand the pressures Alternian society is forcing upon him, as an Orphaner. Because Kanaya's only societal expectation is raising the new mother grub. Kanaya doesn't think about how he's most likely going to live the longest out of all his friends. Eridan has the second highest lifespan out of every troll blood color, but even then with Feferi, she's most likely going to get culled by the Condense when she's the proper age to inherit the throne. So in Eridan's mind, he's going to be alone, expected to be an Orphaner until the day he dies, utterly alone to feed Feferi's lusus until he eventually succumbs to old age or dies in war. That's why he's so closed off, yet so emotionally grand. That's why March Eridan doesn't suit him from a fashion-artistic standpoint. It's not what Eridan Ampora embodies as a character. Envy.

#homestuck #beta trolls #eridan ampora #march eridan #outfits #fashion #art #fashion art #fashion design #maybe I'm just weird #kanaya maryam #started as a rant post but turned into an analysis post #i'm too passionate about art #character design #character dynamics #character analysis

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gojos-thot-patrol · 2 years ago

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Starring Vampire!Gojo, who's become obsessed with his favorite barista at an overnight cafe. He knows that they're soulmates. He just has to convince her that they are as well.

CONTENT WARNING: This fic contains Yandere typical behavior, kidnapping, obsession, noncon/dubcon, blood kink, (spit kink if ya squint), unprotected sex, references to murder, and mind control. Obviously I condone none of this behavior, and reader discretion is heavily advised.

Satrou watched as you fluttered around your apartment, lighting candles and turning on Over the Garden Wall. You had on your coziest sweater, and not a single overhead light was in use- opting instead for the warm glow of your table and floor lamps. You were welcoming in fall with everything you had in you. You looked warm, cozy, and safe. And despite all of that, he couldn’t help but imagine just how much warmer, cozier, and safer you would look trapped in his mansion.

He adjusted his sitting position on his tree branch, watching you pumpkin spice your tea as you cuddled up on the couch. He loved that you left your curtains open just for him, just so he’d be able to keep an eye on you. He knew it had to be for him, who else could watch you on the fifth floor? And if you didn’t want to be watched at all, surely you would close your curtains. It didn’t make sense for you to just leave them open for no reason. Not with the amount of creeps running around in this town. Creeps he would protect you from.

He thought back to the first time he met you. A brand new barista at his favorite overnight cafe, seemingly hand picked for him. Your sparkling eyes and dazzling smile drew him in, but your irresistible smell is what trapped him. Like warm cinnamon and honeyed apples, already nostalgic to him even if it was his first time experiencing the smell. He was hyper aware of the fangs in his mouth, the need to sink them into whatever was producing that intoxicating smell threatening to overtake him. He felt like a cartoon character drawn to a fresh pie on a windowsill. Your voice sounded damn near angelic. He could still remember the poetry you relayed to him, the first words ever spoken between the two of you. Words he'd treasure forever.

“Hey, I like your glasses!” You smiled, definitely being nice to him because you liked him not just because you wanted a tip. He almost blushed. His glasses- round with red lenses- were more for utility than they were a fashion statement, or something he even liked wearing. They hid his eyes, making them appear to be intensely blue rather than the bright red they really were. Still, if you liked them he’d wear them until the inevitable heat death of the earth.

“Oh, thanks.” He chuckled nervously, giving you a tight lipped smile. He didn’t want to freak you out with his…condition. At least not yet.

“No problem man, what can I get you tonight?” It was then and there he decided you would be his one day.

And it was here and now he decided one day was today. He stood up on his branch and leaned against the trunk of the tree. He watched as you did your regular bedtime routine, going to sleep safe and relaxed, knowing your prince charming was coming to take you to his castle tonight. He knew you were on the same wavelength as he was. He knew from the friendly smiles you gave him every time he came into your cafe, from the way you spoke to him as if he was an old friend- with trust and understanding.

Like, when you first started talking about your boyfriend for example. At first, he thought you were trying to discourage his affections, hint at him to go away. But, he quickly came to his senses. You were his one true love, and he was yours, why would you try and throw that away for some mortal asshole? It wasn’t hard for him to figure out that you were asking him to take out the trash.

He remembered how pathetic that boy sounded as he pleaded for his life. It disgusted Satoru that he was able to get so close to you. You deserved someone that could defend you, not some child that cried the moment things got dicey. You deserved him, Satoru Gojo. No one else would do. Still, it was an honor to take care of this chore for you, even if he wished it had been more of a challenge. He was glad to have taken on the task. It reaffirmed his love for you, and the desire to give you what you deserved.

The lights in your neighbors windows finally went out, assuring him that no one would try to be a hero if you decided to play hard to get. He waited another hour to make sure everyone was asleep before he dropped out of the tree, taking on his bat form and flying to your window. He turned back into a human, catching himself on your brick windowsill. It was around now he realized he didn’t exactly think this through, but- it’s fine. It’s fine! This is true love, this is fate, things were going to work out. Probably.

He pulled himself up, balancing with one arm on the thin ledge and opening your window with the other. He smiled when he found it unlocked, confirming that not only were you on the same page as him, you were waiting for him. Good girl. He slid into your studio apartment, and immediately had to brace himself against a wall. It was overwhelming just how much this space smelled like you. It made sense, of course, you spent more of your time here than anywhere else. He expected it to be rich with your smell, but he didn’t expect it to be so intoxicating. He could feel his fangs buzzing with the need to feed, and his body flush with lust. He was down right giddy at the realization that soon, his home would smell like this.

But he had to get you there first. He straightened up, coming to his senses as he turned took at your sleeping form. He felt his chest tighten with affection. You looked so peaceful when you were asleep, softly snoring and completely content. You looked ethereal in the pale moonlight, snuggled under your fluffy blanket. If he saw a picture of you like this, he wouldn’t believe you were real. Which, is saying something cause he’s, ya know, a fucking vampire.

He strode over to your bedside, gently running the back of his knuckles along your angelic jawline. “Rise and shine, beautiful. It’s time to go home.” He whispered softly into your ear, his rich voice filling your mind and causing you to stir.

“Mm- wha..” You muttered softly, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation in your groggy state.

“Come on darling, our bed is waiting for you at home.” He cooed again, taking your warm hand into his ice cold claws.

“Wha..wait, Gojo?”

“You can call me Satoru. Or Love, that would work too.”

“GOJO?!” Oop- you were awake now. You ripped your hand from his, scrambling to get away from him. So you were going to play hard to get. “What are you doing in my home?!” You demanded. He tried to push back his annoyance.

“Darling girl, this isn’t your home.” He gently reminded you, “Your home is all the way on the other side of town, with me.”

“Oh, fuck That!” You yelled, grabbing your bedside table lamp, a heavy porcelain antique, and smashing it across his head. To your credit, if he wasn’t a supernatural being- that would have really fucking hurt. If he didn’t know you were just playing, he would have thought you were actually trying to injure him! But, even if you were just playing, he couldn’t let violence slide.

“Now now baby girl, Is that anyway to treat your lover?” He asked, pulling you into his arms with a speed that you quite frankly could not comprehend. His grip was impossibly strong too, not only rendering escape out of the question, but making it hard to breathe. You could feel bruises forming where is fingertips met your flesh, and bile rise in your throat.

“I’m not your fucking lover Gojo-”

“Darling, please it’s Satoru to you.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” You snapped, trying to wiggle out of his grip, despite the futility of it.

“Crazy for you Babygirl.” Oh great, not only was he out of his fucking mind, he was going to be cheesy about it too.

“Let me go!” You demanded, trying to thrash but only managing to squirm. You tried kicking him, but it was about as affective as performing CPR on a corpse.

“I will, as soon as we get home.” He “assured” you. It was then you realized he was leading you to your open window. Oh no. Oh no no no no no! Was he going to fucking kill you?! Was home the afterlife?!

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You screamed, clawing as his arms and struggling against him in any way you could, “Gojo-”

“Satoru.” He was starting to lose his patience with your insistence of using his family name.

“Motherfucker, we are on The. Fifth. Floor. You’re gonna kill us!” Ohhhh riiight, You were human! You had never flown before! Of course you were freaking out, the first flight is always a little scary. He reminded himself he needed to be more sympathetic with you while you were adjusting, and mentally berated himself for forgetting in the first place.

“Don’t worry darling,” He said, sitting on the ledge and holding you even tighter to his chest- if that was possible, “I won’t let you fall.” He said before promptly falling back first out of the window. You don’t know what was louder, the sound of the wind rushing past your ears, or the screams ripping from your throat.

And then the wind got softer, as if you weren’t falling but-...You looked up to confirm your suspicion. Gojo was holding you on his chest as coasted through the air, looking as relaxed as he would if he was on an inner-tube on a sleepy lake. You suddenly understood what was happening.

“Oh, I’m dreaming!” You all but laughed at the realization.

“It is a dream come true, huh?” He smiled, “I thought we might share dreams.” You rolled your eyes at him, but noticeably relaxed. If you were dreaming, that meant there was no danger. You weren’t flying through the air with a sociopath that was trying to kidnap you, no. You were at home, safe in your bed. In the morning, you would throw away the expired clove in your pantry, and watch The Lost Boys as this fucked up dream slowly seeped out of your mind. All would be well.

That was the thought you were clinging onto as he landed in the lawn of an old southern gothic mansion on the edge of town. You were familiar with this property. The kids spread rumors of it being haunted, overrun with ghouls and ghosts and all things that go bump in the night. Most of them wouldn’t go up to it’s front door, even on Halloween night, with the promise of candy hanging in the air. They believed that once you knocked on the door, your days were numbered. Even the adults spoke about it in hushed whispers, sharing conspiracy theories about who the home owner could possibly be, and why no one ever saw them. Many assumed it was abandoned.

And now that you were in the front lawn, you understood where all the fear came from. The house was overwhelming, a dark aurora clinging to it and a sense of dread radiating off of it. But, you were dreaming! You couldn’t be hurt! You let Gojo lead you into the front door with zero fear, knowing that you were impervious to danger at the moment.

Inside you were greeted with a surprisingly warm interior. The outside seemed more like a defense mechanism now, like a bug that disguises itself as a much deadlier creature, when in reality the bug was harmless. Antique table lamps bathed the room in warm light, The red vintage wallpaper making the old black furniture look inviting. The class and elegance of the home put you even more at ease. Leaving you vulnerable.

You didn’t even notice the amount of locks he was locking behind you, or the fact that some of them required a code. “Welcome home darling,” He said as he finally finished securing the million latches, returning and wrapping his arms around your waist, “What do you think?” He purred.

“It’s…cozy.” You said. It was, in it’s own weird way. “I always wondered what the inside of this house looked like.”

“Well, it’s yours now, so feel free to make any changes you want.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. You felt a chill as his cold lips pressed against your skin. Your brain may have known it was dreaming, but your body didn’t. You still felt shaky, your heart was still racing, and your palms were still clammy. Your body was in super-hyper-defense mode. Which, was to say you felt like you were seconds away from a panic attack. He must have noticed the blood draining from your face.

“It’s late darling. The grand tour can wait, let me show you to our room.” Oh, good idea. If you slept, you could wake up in your bed and get this dream over with. You nodded and let him lead you up the ornate, spiral staircase, and down the hall to the master bedroom. An absolutely massive room that matched the living area, only instead of red it was a powder blue, A truly extravagant bed was the center piece of the room, a large canopy hanging over it. You noticed there were no windows in the room. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen any windows at all, other than in the living room. And even still, they were boarded up.

“Thanks for the room, I uh…I think I’m going to go to sleep. You can go now.” You told him. His laugh sent a blizzard through your body.

“Go now?” He cackled, “Darling, this is my room too.” He said gently, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “We share everything…” He leaned down and pressed his nose into the juncture of your neck, taking a deep breath and getting lost in your scent. He felt you try to push him away, but you would have had an easier time trying to push Mount Fuji over.

“Gojo, I-”

“Satoru.” He growled, “For the last time. My name, is Satoru.” He very gently reminded you, gripping you tighter and digging his long black claws into your side. You gasped from the pain, feeling drops of blood leak from you new would. You felt the pain. You felt pain.

You weren’t dreaming. You weren’t dreaming.

You felt a sharp icy chill rip though you as he dragged his cold, slimy tongue along your neck. “You smell so decadent my love.” He praised. You lost your words as you felt him run his hands under your sleep shirt and up your bare skin. His chilled fingers left frigid trails along your body, reminding you of where he had touched- where he had violated. Your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your throat, and your stomach turned as he pressed your hips into his, making it painfully clear just how happy he was to have you here.

He could smell your blood leaking from your side and it was clouding every other thought he had. He hadn’t fed in weeks. No one else was worth it, no one smelled nearly as appetizing as you. Every other disgusting mortal tasted rotten to him now, and no matter who he chased they were never you. They may have had your skin color, or your eye color, but none of them could hold a candle to you.

But he had you here now. His darling, his world. His perfect meal. And he was fucking starving. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.” He purred, dragging his fangs across the thin skin on your neck.

“N-no, don’t-!” Your words turned into a scream as he dug his fangs into your flesh, your scream dying in your throat as he bit down. You felt his sharp fangs pierce into you, opening up your veins and letting the blood flow freely for him. You felt his cold tongue collecting the very crimson that give you life, greedily feeding on you as if you were the finest meal he had ever had.

Probably because you were. The flavor of fresh apples and salted caramel spreading in his mouth and through his being, making his cold body buzz with your warmth. You tasted better than he had ever imagined. He roughly grabbed your hair, tangling his claws in it as he pulled your head to the side, giving him more room to feast. It restarted your nervous system. You found your will to fight again, thrashing in his grip and trying even harder to push him away. He growled at your sudden insolence, forcing himself away from your throat.

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look in his eyes. “Why do you insist on fighting me, Love?” He groaned. You realized he wasn’t wearing his normal glasses, and his eyes were still as red as the blood currently flowing through you. Fuck, how could you have been so blind? You tried to break away from his grip again.

“Because you’re a fucking monster!” You snapped. Well that was harsh. He didn’t want to do this so early on in your living with him, but really you left him with no choice. “Let me go!” You demanded again.

“Why would I do that?” He asked, his eyes burning into your very soul. “You want to be here.” You watched as his eyes changed. Red irises now ringed with violet, then gold, then violet again. It was so…mesmerizing.

“No I-...” Your words fell from your lips, and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. You could feel your brain filling with fog, the edges of your vision becoming a vignette. Slowly you could feel the ice he filled you with melting from your body, leaving you feeling something much warmer instead.

“Yes you do. You’re my girl, of course you want to be here with me.” He purred, a soft smile looking so misplaced on his bloodstained face. “You do want to be with me, don’t you Y/n?”

“I do.” N-no. No that's not what you meant to say. What the hell?

“Then why are you trying to fight me?” Because he’s a fucking creep that stole you out of your bed and was now practicing the ancient art of BLOODLETTING on you!

“I don’t know.” No! Why weren’t your words matching your thoughts?! Why couldn’t you say what you meant!?

“If you don’t know Darling, then there's no point to it. I don’t want to hurt you my love, please don’t force my hand.” he sighed, cupping your cheek in his palm. You wanted to jerk away, but you felt your body lean into his cool touch. It felt nice against your warm cheek.

“I’m sorry.” You absolutely were not sorry.

“It’s okay Beautiful. I know how you can make it up to me.” His grin was wicked with ill intent as he returned to your neck, licking at the blood flowing there. You could feel your body temperature continue to rise, what was once almost pleasant slowly becoming unbearable. You whined softly at the unpleasantness of the heat.

“You’re warm,” He noted, running his cold hand along your side. The ice he held wasn’t unwelcome anymore. Now it felt like the cool waves of the ocean on a hot summer day. You felt you head nod limply at his obvious observation. Of course you were warm, you were on fire.

“Let me help.” He whispered, pulling your shirt over your head. You’d think being exposed to the cool air in this drafty mansion would have helped your situation, but you felt no change. You didn’t feel a change when he slipped your bottoms off either, and you almost whined when he pushed you onto the bed, the fluffy fabric of the blanket making everything worse.

And then his lips were on yours, like the first chill breeze after a heat wave. More, more, you needed more. Your hands fumbled with his shirt buttons, struggling with numb fingers to fit the brass through the holes. Finally, after undoing three, you gave up and ripped the shirt off over his head- possible ripped fabric be damned.

“I knew you wanted me darling,” He grinned, your eagerness to have him undressed fueling his undeserved sense of confidence. You didn’t care though, because his skin was finally on yours. His chest pressed against yours, you finally felt some sense of relief, like putting aloe on a bad sunburn. You moaned softly as he trailed kisses from your jaw to the wound on your neck, still bleeding but much slower now. He gently sucked on the dripping injury, and instead of pain, you felt euphoria. You moaned softly, pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the building pressure.

He gave you a tight lip smile, red covering his lower face, as he moved down on you, spreading your legs. His grin grew once he saw what you were working with. He knew it would be pretty, he had imagined it more than a few times while fucking his hand- chasing a high he knew only you could give him. But honestly, he didn’t think it would be that pretty. You noticed his lack of commentary just in time to find out why he was keeping his mouth shut.

He leaned down and spit your own blood out and onto your cunt, making an already pretty pussy prettier. You were embarrassed to say you moaned, but the blood chilled by his mouth felt do fucking good on your burning body.

“God, you’re a freak.” He laughed, showing blood stained teeth. “Yet another thing we have in common.” He cooed as he massaged the sangria into your clit, sending waves of euphoria through your body. His hand moved down, slowing tracing your entrance before slipping a long finger inside, quickly followed by a second.

“Oh, fuck!” You gasped as he curled his fingers up inside of you, gracing your g-spot with an expert precision. You felt your hips buck up against your will, reacting to him in ways that would have made you nauseous in any other state.

“You like that Darling?” He asked with a smirk, curling his fingers again and again. You whined softly, chasing the chill of his touch. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You grumbled. You wanted to tell him no. You wanted to tell him to fuck off and stop touching you, but at the same time that was the last thing you wanted him to do. It felt like his touch was the only thing that could regulate your body, not to mention the fact that it just felt so fucking good.

You were sure whatever he did to you was causing this heat, but you had also never been this sensitive before. His every movement sent waves of electricity through your nervous system. Your body craved him in way it had craved no one else before, responding to him like it was made for him. You felt a cool pool of pleasure forming in your stomach, your body buzzing with desire and anticipation.

He bit his lip as he felt you clench around his fingers, and immediately he had to feel that clench around his dick. He pulled his hand away, placing his two fingers in his mouth and sucking them clean, eyes rolling back at the sweet taste. You whined at the loss of contact, hips bucking in search of the pleasure they were robbed of. You wanted to cry, the frustration of a lost climax clouding your already cloudy brain. “Noooo!” Was all you could manage to say, and god did you sound pathetic saying it.

“Don’t worry Darling girl,” Satoru chuckled as he pulled out his cock, “I got something even better for you.” You watched as he pumped his dick, the angry red tip looking so much redder against his pale skin. He rubbed his hand over the leaking tip, using the fluid there to slick himself up. You wouldn’t say this about a lot of guys, but you thought even your normal brain would be able to admit he had a pretty dick.

A pretty dick he was about to shove into your soaking cunt. You bit your lip in anticipation as he lifted your hips up to meet his. “Ready pretty girl?” He purred. You nodded an aggressive affirmative and he almost laughed. “No no Beautiful, with your words. Tell me you want me.”

“I want you!” You whined, hearing your voice but not your words again, “I want you so bad, please. Please I need you, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore, until I can’t think straight, I want to be ruined for anyone else, please!”

“Atta girl,” He praised, finally pushing into your needy cunt. He shuddered as he did, your warm velvety walls enveloping him and pulling him deeper than he realized possible. He almost came right then and there, like an untouched virgin, but managed to contain himself. Your moans weren’t doing him any favors, but you couldn't help it. He felt like a snowstorm inside the inferno that was your body, controlling the fire that raged there and finally giving you some relief. The stretch stinging at you was just an added bonus.

“You feel so fucking good Darling,” He praised, pulling back and slowly pushing himself back in, perfectly rubbing against your g-spot. You curved your back in pleasure, electric waves of euphoria crashing into your body, and quickly dragging you back to the edge.

“It’s like you were made for me,” He cooed, “My perfect meal, my perfect fuck toy, you were designed to be mine.” He moaned, tangling his fingers into yours as he looked you in the eyes, painting a scene of what he thought intimacy looked like.

“Fuck, you feel so good Satoru..” You moaned, cunt fluttering around him as your climax quickly approached. Something in his brain switched. Before you fully understood what was happening, you were folded into a mating press, his cock reaching places inside of you you weren’t even sure were possible to reach. Your veins felt like they were full of smoke and your entire body felt like it was made of stars, ecstasy exploding inside you every time he moved.

“Say it again.” He demanded.

“Satoru!” You yelped, honestly a little pissed off he expected you to talk now.

“Again.” He demanded, pumping into you with a vengeance.

“Satrou!” You whined, digging your nails into the pale flesh of his back, dragging your nails and leaving angry red claw marks in your wake.

“Who do you belong to Y/n?” He asked, eyes burning into your again. You knew the answer he wanted. You clenched your teeth and sucked on your tongue. You used any willpower you had left not to say it. He may have taken your body, but you couldn’t let him take you.

“Come on Darling, answer me. Who do you belong to?” He prompted again, this time coupled with the perfect thrust of his hips, lining up perfectly with your sweet spot, and using a free hand to rub your clit. The wave of lust and pleasure that overtook you washed away any willpower you may have had left.

“You, Satoru.” You whined, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“That’s right darling,” He grinned wickedly as he licked at your neck wound, letting the blood flow over his tongue. “You’re fucking mine.” He started pounding into you with a vengeance, and you felt the strings in your stomach start to snap. Your entire body tensed up vision went white hot as galaxies exploded inside your veins, euphoria crashing into your body in seismic waves, making your cunt quiver from the after shocks. Your head felt like it was filled with cotton and you could feel your thighs trembling around him as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Satoru I-” You tried to communicate but couldn’t get the words, your already altered brain turning to much and leaking out of your ears as he fucked you through your high. His was close, he wouldn’t be far behind. The way that your cunt fluttered around his cock mixed with the pretty sounds you were making were frying his own nervous system, and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look with his cum dripping down your thighs.

“Y/n,” He panted as he pounded into you. Your eyes met his. You lifted a shaky hand to push his snowy hair out of his face and he was done for. The small intimate act leaving him gushing deep inside you to the point of overflow. “Fuck I love you,” He moaned as he fucked you through his high, “I Love You, I love you so fucking much.”

He all but collapsed on top of you as he finally finished, pulling you into his cold chest. Your body temperature finally felt normal again, and you could feel the effects of his hypnosis slowly wearing off. He noticed too, and kissed away the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry Darling, did I overwhelm you?” He asked, genuine concern filling his voice. You wanted to scoff at the question, but choose to keep quiet instead. You were locked in his house. You had to play his games now to stay alive. He took your silence to be an affirmative.

“I’m sorry Darling. You don’t have to say it back yet, it’s okay. I know you love me.” He smiled, your blood still staining his fangs and making you sick. He finally pulled out, and you hated the empty feeling that followed. “Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #yandere gojo #yandere jjk #vampire gojo #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #yandere gojo smut #gojo smut

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iolite-moodboards · 7 months ago

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scooby gang vibes

things i associate with the scooby gang!!

requests for these are open if you're interested!

fred jones~♡

diners in the middle of nowhere

late-night drives to think

coffee with cream and sugar

butterscotch

his playlist is either motivational 80s or 2000s music

saturday morning cartoons

diner pancakes

fresh, clean smell

geo guesser

lends his jacket if someone is cold

early mornings

always buying new accessories (steering wheel covers, fuzzy dice, little pine trees) for the mystery machine

attempting to read a map while driving

blue jeans

history books

interviewing priests for answers about hauntings in the area

camping

forgets to drink water

messy bedroom

daphne blake~♡

aliens and anything outer space

iced matcha

fun cereal

scrunchies

always offering to pay

binge watching tv

going to the planetarium

girly music

boxing

sneaking in past curfew

peaches

freckles

dragging friends out to stargaze

sheet masks

strawberry ice cream

taking notes with glitter gel pens

conspiracy theories

grwm tiktoks filmed in the back of the mystery machine

pinkpantheress

almond nails

velma dinkley~♡

library trips

hydro flasks

pasta

conspiracy theories pt 2

mothman

freshly brewed coffee

ballpoint pens

falling asleep on the bus

staying up until 4am reading

oversized sweaters

rock collection

digging on reddit to find their next cryptid spot

cinnamon

sunscreen always in her bag

jack stauber

lip oil

doodling stars in her notebook

sitting by the coast

gummy worms

charcoal stained fingers

shaggy rogers~♡

pizza

indie music

skating

beanies

naps

cd collection

stopping for snacks at shady convenience stores

track

skipping stones

keychains

bubble gum

an old mp3 player he won't get rid of

plants in his room

baja blast

rocky road ice cream

stealing daph's sunglasses

afraid of the dark

french fries

always smells both like he just got done grilling and like dog

superstitious

scooby-doo~♡

fancy dog shampoo (literally titled "le ham")

loves going to the beach

fetch

stealing the gang's french fries

sleeping in the back of the mystery machine

oreos

Big Stretch™

unreliable guard dog but he tries his best

hiding behind shaggy

scooby snacks

#text #character vibes #character aesthetic #scooby doo #mystery incorporated #mystery inc #fred jones #daphne blake #velma dinkley #shaggy rogers #aesthetic #character aesthetics #scooby doo headcanons #character inspo #character ideas #character inspiration

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aurora-starlight-silly · 1 month ago

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Here is my persona's ref ! My most completed ref yayy >:3

Her name's Aly ! (Like one my nicknames!)

(click 4 better quality)

Don't forget: this is my persona, but that doesn't mean you can't draw me as aurora ! I love both !

Here's what there is (idk what word to use ._.):

Middle:

my sona's full body. I tried to give her clothes I would wear (comfy clothes !!),she has that bag I ALWAYS wear, and the green soul necklace, cuz my soul would be the kindness soul (and I do have a necklace like that lol)

Bottom left:

Some Informations ! :

•kindness soul: (she has a kindness soul)

•create things by drawing them and then making them real, creates aus sometimes too (she likes to create things for fun, and alot of her items are made by her :3)

• Can heal, but can't make physicall injuries disappear

(because I have magnetism (idk how to explain but like it's kinda like you can heal like if someone has an headache y'know-)

•A bit clumsy, very silly (just like me)

• Knows poeple are characters but still sees them as living beings

• Loves to create things for others (gifts)

•comes from the real world but messed up and is now stuck in the game (llllooorreee)

Top left:

The scarf ! I tried to make my irl scarf :3

Here's how to make the patern !!

First:

Second:

Then add these pink lines:

Right:

1. Eyes:

Normal eyes:

The eyes, and the save point replacing her left eye

Simplified:

Kind of cartoon eyes for example for smal drawings or drawings where the she's in the background, and also the save point replacing her left eye

2. Bracelets

Left hand:

A yellow bracelet with two gems:

An amethyst (my fav) and an aventurine

Right hand:

A light blue bracelet with also two gems:

An citrin and a lapi lazuli

These bracelets are a mix between my bracelets with gem and some comfy and cook bracelets I have :D

3. Bag

Inside the bag, the space in infinite, that's how there is so many things in it heheh >:333

Notebook: it's a blue notebook with a dark blue pen (I have this irl)

Dagger : a cool dagger made of bones, the dogs keep trying to eat it :(

Bone: a bone so that the dogs stop trying to eat the dagger, but apparently they prefer the dagger

Squishable ice cream: a very fun to squish lil ice cream (I also have it irl)

Drawing book: a drawing book with a pencil and an eraser (I have it irl too)

Small bag: a smal bag with mirtillas when you eat one, one appears in the bag, so they're infinite

Camera: a camera to make photos with friends or in aus !! It can print the photos :]

And more !!!

Top:

All the colors used !! Order:

Hair and face, save point, sweater, bag, scarf, pants, socks, shoes, heart necklace

and that's all !!

I'm finally done ! I hope y'alls like it ! And I hope it helps if you want to draw them ! I'm pretty proud of it, it's the ref with the more infos and things I've ever made ! I love it, and I'm pretty happy abt how my persona turned out, even if the colors aren't really good, I'm still pretty happy >:333

I'm soooo sorry it took SO long and I didn't have alot of time- (it took me 7 hours or more) but at least it's done before my bday >:3 (wish is tomorrow yayyyy)

Anyways thx for reading !!! Byyee !! :33

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estellan0vella · 4 months ago

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Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Four: Tequila First, Sage Later SS: 7 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 1.8 K Content Warnings: sex dreams, discussions of sex dreams in detail, Minho is unhinged and has no shame

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Ayame sprawls on her plush couch, surrounded by the charmingly ridiculous chaos of her apartment. Smurf figurines litter every available surface. Perched on bookshelves, clustered on the coffee table, and even lined up along the windowsill like a tiny blue army preparing for battle.

One particularly smug Smurf in a chef's hat surveys the room from atop a stack of novels near the TV, his expression seeming to judge her questionable choice in reality dating shows.

Clad in an oversized fluffy sweater that slips off one shoulder and a pair of shorts, Ayame lounges with her legs tucked under her, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, ignoring Minho's spam texts. Her hair is piled into a messy bun that's more chaos than style, a few strands escaping to frame her face. The sound of keys jingling in the hallway pulls her from her aimless scrolling.

The door flies open, and Minho bursts in like he lives at the place, which, considering their years of friendship, he practically does.

"Okay!" he announces dramatically, throwing his arms out as if delivering divine proclamation. "It's an Oppa-and-Ayame day! That tyrant Haechul accidentally gave us both the same day off, so we're drinking wine and shit-talking the Four Devils. Especially Jisung, that squirrely little fucker."

Ayame grins lazily from the couch, not bothering to move. "You two should just fuck already. All that tension? It's gotta be sexual."

Minho freezes mid-stride, a look of exaggerated horror overtaking his face as he heads for her kitchen. "I considered it once," he says, yanking open her cabinet with unnecessary force, "but then I realized, ew. I'd get Miroh slime on my dick. Hard fucking pass."

Ayame snorts, watching as he emerges triumphantly with a bottle of red wine and two hilariously mismatched glasses, one a delicate crystal goblet, the other a mug with a cartoon penguin on it. "Bold of you to assume you'd be the top between you and Jisung."

Minho freezes, the wine bottle in one hand and the penguin mug in the other. His face twists in mock indignation as he glares at her. "Yah! I am a fucking top!"

"Sure you are," Ayame hums, accepting the glass he hands her. She takes a sip, savouring the rich flavour with a soft sigh.

Minho plops down next to her, kicking off his shoes. He watches her for a moment, his usual playful smirk softening. "You okay?"

Ayame twirls the stem of her glass between her fingers, staring into the wine like it might hold the answer to all her problems. "I think I'm going to have to quit."

Minho jerks upright, his glass clinking as he slams it onto the coffee table. "What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

"Haechul's going to pull strings to make sure Chan gets the managing director job," Ayame explains. "And I made that dumbass deal with him. If he gets it, I have to leave."

Minho stares at her, his mouth agape. "You can't fucking leave. Who the fuck would drive Chan insane if you're gone? More importantly, who's going to keep me sane?"

"Minho," Ayame says, smirking softly, "you're already insane."

"Fair." He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. "But I'm serious. If you leave, I'm leaving. No way I'm sticking around without my favourite pain-in-the-ass maknae. Besides, if you're gone, there'd be no HR complaints to keep me entertained. What the fuck would I even do with my time?"

Ayame snorts, taking another sip of wine. "You'd miss me."

"Of course, I'd miss you," Minho says, his voice dropping to something softer. "But seriously, that deal? Fucking stupid. You're a pabo."

She grins, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I love you too, Oppa."

He rests his cheek against the top of her head. "You're still a pabo."

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sound of the city humming faintly in the background. Then Minho speaks again, his tone laced with mischief. "Have you ever thought about just getting it out of your system with Chan?"

Ayame jerks her head up, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. "I'd rather fucking die than have sex with Bang Chan."

"Yeah, but he's hot," Minho says, grinning like a cat who's cornered a mouse.

"Too hot," Ayame mutters begrudgingly, her nose scrunching as she sips her wine. "Oh, speaking of disasters, you'll never guess what I found in my closet yesterday."

Minho raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "What?"

Ayame sets her glass down and stretches dramatically. "Remember that BDSM novel manuscript from before the merger? The one with the dolphin metaphor?"

Minho's eyes widen, his grin practically splitting his face. "No fucking way. You kept it?!"

"Oh, I kept it," Ayame says, grabbing the bottle of wine and glasses as she stands. "This is bed and wine reading material. Let's go."

They head to her bedroom, fairy lights strung along the headboard casting a soft, warm glow over the space. The Smurfs have infiltrated here too, perched on her bedside table and dresser like a tiny blue cult.

Minho flops onto the bed, spreading out like a content cat as Ayame rummages through her closet, eventually pulling out a thick stack of papers.

She plops onto the bed beside him, flipping to a random page. Clearing her throat, she reads dramatically, "'Her body bent like a bow, her legs both entwined and spread apart as his hands worked magic she didn't know existed.'"

Minho chokes on his wine, doubling over as he coughs. "How the fuck do you do both?"

He attempts to mimic the described position, his limbs sprawled in every direction like a broken action figure. Ayame howls with laughter, clutching the manuscript as tears stream down her face.

"Okay, okay," she gasps, flipping to another page. "'Electric pulses shot through her as his velvet tongue traced-'"

"Velvet tongue?!" Minho interrupts, his voice high with incredulity. "Is he a man or a fucking fabric swatch?"

Ayame collapses onto the bed, laughing so hard her stomach hurts. "This is even worse than I remembered!"

"It's art," Minho declares, striking a ridiculous pose. "High-brow erotica for the mentally unhinged like us."

Ayame's breath hitches as she lies in her bed, her room dimly lit by the soft glow of her bedside lamp. The air feels thick, heavy, as Chan's voice cuts through the silence. "Ayame," he says, his tone low, almost a whisper.

Her heart pounds in her chest. "Chan," she whispers back, her voice trembling.

Before she can say anything else, his lips are on hers, firm and unrelenting. One of his hands grips her thigh, the warmth of his palm searing through her skin as he pulls her leg over his waist. His kisses trail down her neck, soft but insistent, leaving a path of heat as he moves lower, his mouth grazing her sternum.

Ayame's breathing grows shallow, her fingers curling into the sheets. He lifts her leg effortlessly over one of his impossibly broad shoulders, his movements deliberate and assured. The room feels like it's spinning, her senses overwhelmed by the weight of him, the feel of his lips, the strength in his hands-

Nope. Nope. Fuck no.

She slaps a hand over her face, jolting up in the bed. Beside her, Minho stirs under the covers, mumbling something unintelligible before flopping onto his side.

"Minho," Ayame hisses, shaking his shoulder urgently. "Red light. Code fucking red."

Minho grunts, his voice muffled by the pillow. "What? Fire? Bug? Break-in? Mouse? Talk to me, Maknae, I'm barely alive."

Ayame sits up, hugging her knees, her voice trembling as she whispers, "I had a-"

Minho rolls onto his back, squinting at her through the haze of sleep. "A what? A bad dream? A good dream? A fuck-you dream? Spit it out."

Her cheeks burn as she finally blurts, "A sex dream. About Chan."

For a moment, the room goes silent. Then Minho's entire body stiffens, his grogginess vanishing in an instant. "No," he whispers, sitting up like he's just heard the world's worst news. He grabs her by the shoulders, staring at her with wide, horrified eyes. "No."

Ayame groans, burying her face in her hands. "It was so fucking real. His stupid hands, his stupid voice, his stupid fucking broad-ass shoulders. Why the fuck does my subconscious hate me?"

Minho's face twists in exaggerated pain as he pulls her into a tight hug, rocking her gently like a child. "No, no, no. We're cleansing this shit right now. You are not allowed to let Miroh trash like him into your brain space. Not even dreamspace."

She laughs weakly into his shoulder. "It's not like I fucking invited him. I didn't send out an RSVP."

Minho pulls back, his expression deadly serious. "Tequila. Sage. We're getting both. Right fucking now."

Ayame snorts, wiping her face. "You're overreacting. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Not that bad?" Minho leaps out of bed, pacing dramatically. "It's the end of the fucking world, Ayame. Next thing I know, you're gonna tell me you dreamt about licking his abs while he growls stupid shit like, 'You're mine, shortcake.'"

Ayame flops back onto the bed. "Stop. You're making it worse."

Minho stops mid-pace, snapping his fingers. "Wait here. I'm getting the tequila." He toddles out of the room, his bare feet pattering against the floor as he makes a beeline for her kitchen.

She sits up, her hands pressed to her cheeks, muttering to herself. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Minho returns moments later, a bottle of tequila in one hand and a shot glass in the other. He unscrews the cap dramatically and wafts the bottle under her nose. "Smell that. Salvation."

Ayame leans forward, inhaling the sharp, familiar scent. "Smells like my saving grace."

"Exactly." He pours her a shot, his movements precise. "This will cleanse your soul. Tequila first, sage later."

Ayame downs the shot without hesitation, grimacing as the liquid burns its way down. "How do you even know this works?"

Minho pours himself a shot, his expression unreadable as he takes it like a pro. "Because I've had to do it, Maknae. More times than I care to admit."

She raises an eyebrow. "You? What, you had a sex dream about Chan?"

"Jisung," Minho says matter-of-factly, pouring another shot for himself. "His cute little cheeks, full of my cock. Tequila and sage every fucking time. I call it a sanity reset."

Ayame chokes on her laughter, falling back onto the bed. "I hate you. I hate this. I hate everything."

"You'll thank me later," Minho says, patting her leg as he sits beside her. "These men are like incubi, Maknae. They latch onto you. But tequila? Tequila is your tether to reality."

Ayame groans, throwing her arm over her face. "I can't fucking believe I'm having this conversation."

Minho smirks, nudging her with his knee. "You should've seen my face the first time I dreamt about Jisung. I woke up like, who the fuck am I? But you know what? I've survived, and so will you."

She pulls her arm down, her laughter bubbling up despite the lingering embarrassment. "You're insane."

"And you're welcome," Minho says, holding up the tequila bottle. "Now, another shot. For good measure."

Ayame sits up, taking the shot he pours and downing it like it's medicine. The warmth spreads through her chest, dulling the edges of her anxiety. "Okay. Fine. This helps."

"Of course it does," Minho says, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "Now, for the record, if you ever even think about looking at Chan like that in real life, I'm moving out of the country and dragging you with me."

Ayame laughs, shaking her head. "Deal. No Miroh trolls in my headspace."

"Damn right," Minho says, raising his glass. "To tequila, sage, and exorcising Bang Chan from your subconscious."

"To my stupid fucking brain," Ayame mutters, clinking her glass with his before downing her shot.

The tequila's warmth settles into her, and as the laughter spills out between them, Ayame feels the weight of her nightmare lift, replaced by the comfort of Minho's ridiculous, unwavering loyalty.

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