#even changes his hair color and hairstyle

[hauntedbydreams]

imagine Vi with a gf that will do drastic things to their appearance and not mention it- like reader just shows up with new piercings, haircut, nail set etc and just plays it off to mess w/ her

"I've always had those wym?" "It was just a trim idk what you're saying"

Ok I’m obsessed w this idea bc it’s literally me, I shave and dye my hair every month and don’t realize ppl can’t recognize me when they don’t see me every few weeks, oopsi. This also ended up being very self indulgent BECAUSE I GOT A TATTOO OF VI’s NAME ON MY LOWER NAVEL 😌 I’m so down bad for her it’s not even funny (this IS a photo of MY tattoo so plz just lmk if ur gonna use it for anything)

Anyway hope u like this! (And thank u for my first Vi ask!!) requests/asks are always open!

Lil suggestive at the end but nothing too crazy I’d say…

Vi loves that you’re so all over the place, it makes her feel like you’re always changing and it’s kinda why she fell for you in the first place.

But she was not prepared for the amount of drastic appearance changes you bombard her with on a monthly basis.

You’ll show up with a random new hair color one day, walking into the gym she works at to drop off her lunch. Just strutting into the place, so nonchalantly, like there’s absolutely nothing new when in fact your hair went from brown to black with bright green highlights.

Vi’s at the reception about to head to the back with a new client when she sees you. She doesn’t even register that it’s you at first and her jaw only drops when she does a double take.

“Hey honey” you say in your regular loving tone.

“Uhh… Hi.. uh- hi baby?” Vi’s so confused but you just look at her innocently and bat your lashes. “I brought you lunch!”

“I see that” Vi looks down at the bag you dropped on the counter and leans over to kiss you on the cheek quickly. “I also see you’ve got a new hairstyle?”

You look at her surprised, “oh this?” you’re picking up strands of hair twisting them around your fingers absentmindedly “yeah I guess…”

“You guess?!?” she stares at you incredulously “it’s quite a big change cupcake!”

You fake being hurt and pretend dramatically, placing a hand your heart “So you don’t like it?”

“No, no, no! I didn’t say that! I just meant it’s so different!” Vi’s reaching over to run her fingers through your hair “I really like it”

“It’s really not that different Vi, just added the green” you brush it off, messing with her a little.

Vi swears your hair was brown and not black but she just shrugs, “as long as you’re happy!”

Then one day you’re off work early and you walk by this piercing shop every day on your way home. You’ve got a few piercings on your ears and that one on your belly button that Vi adores, but you’ve been wanting a septum for a while.

So before you can convince yourself otherwise you’re walking out of the piercing studio with a fresh silver ring in your nose.

You walk into your apartment met with the sound of Vi playing video games on the couch. Swooping down you attempt to give her a peck on the lips while she moves her head around your figure trying to see the screen “Hi Angel… one sec I just have to pass this level, then I promise I’m all yours”

You let her be and go to quickly clean your brand new piercing before she’s done with her gaming.

Later you guys are making dinner together and Violet can’t help but notice the silver ring glittering above your top lip when it catches the light. To be fair, Vi is always staring at your lips anyway, so it’s not like she really wasn’t gonna notice a piercing right above them.

“Uhhh hey babe?”

“Yeah Vi?”

“Did you always have that septum piercing?”

“Mhm” you’re humming absentmindedly as you stir something on the stove.

Violet can’t think straight, cause is she that distracted and so down bad that she didn’t notice her beautiful girlfriend had a septum piercing?!? Or is this another one of your “what do you mean I didn’t change anything!” moments like when you showed up with dyed hair and pretended it was the exact same or when you got new nails done and told her you’d been wearing them for weeks…

She swears you messing with her like this is gonna be the death of her, but… she’d never complain.

Nothing prepares Vi for your next drastic move though, cause she goes absolutely feral when u show her the tattoo u got of her name on ur lower navel.

Oh no. You’re done for. Cause she’s almost quite literally on her knees drooling, staring up at you with big blue eyes and you know she’s about to jump your bones and never let you go.

Vi knew you were going in for a tattoo appointment that day. But what she didn’t know is that you decided to surprise her with a little “VI”, the same one she has on her face, but in ink the color of her hair. The deep fuchsia pink you love.

So when you come home from your tattoo appointment, Vi thinks you just went for the bigger piece you got on your leg. So she jumps from the couch as soon as she hears you entering your apartment “Hey! you’re back!” and she’s running down the hall kneeling at your legs, lifting your trousers to see the new piece with an excited “Lemme see!!!”

You’re just as excited and giggle while she admires the work. But you keep ur mouth shut and don’t say a word about the little surprise tattoo you have of her name just above your panty line.

“It’s so cool! I love the colors and it’s so much bigger than I thought you’d go for! I love it!” Vi’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Did it hurt? You were at the studio for a while…”

“Nah it wasn’t too bad, plus the artist was so gentle and it’s not like it’s my first rodeo Vi.” You’re rolling your eyes at her concern and she’s standing back up pulling you in for a long kiss.

“I’m gonna go unwrap the tattoo foil and wash the new ink, are you ok to start dinner hon?” You yell into the kitchen as you walk toward the bathroom. “Yeah! In a minute!”

Before you’ve even finished undressing to hop in the shower, Vi’s bursting into the bathroom claiming she needs to wash her hands before cooking. (but you both know there’s a perfectly good sink in the kitchen and she just loves barging in on you in the shower).

She’s smirking as she leans on the side of the sink “Cute panties”

You look down and immediately cover your face in embarrassment realizing you’re wearing high waisted flower-patterned cottons. It’s not your usual choice and they’re kinda reserved for shark week cause you don’t think they’re cute, but it was your best option for getting a lower navel tattoo and making sure it didn’t get irritated. “Stahppp Vi, I had to wea-“ you catch yourself before you can tell Vi about the tattoo.

She’s already sauntering over to you her hands finding their place on your bare waist making you shiver. “I don’t know… I still think they’re kinda cute..” Vi trails off as her fingers dig under the band and slowly lower it.

You’re waiting in anticipation for her to notice the tattoo at any moment, and then she does.

Her eyes go wide the second she sees it. You swear you can see her brain reset to factory settings and her mind go blank.

She doesn’t know what to say or do. Sliding down to the ground, shes now on her knees in front of you, hands on your hips holding the band of your panties down with her thumbs as she just stares at the little fuchsia pink “VI” on your lower navel.

“Vi?” You try gently, dragging the word out like a question.

“Hmm?” She’s not looking at you, just staring at the tattoo of her name on your body as she swallows hard. “Fuck Angel, fuck… is that… is that my name, sweetheart?” She’s biting her lip inhaling and ur nodding a happy “mhm” down at her.

Something short circuits in her then. The way her name is permanently on your skin. The way her name on you marks you as hers. She’s breathing heavy.

She thinks she’s drooling but she doesn’t care. She’s focusing her pretty blue eyes up on you now. You cup her face and try to play it off like you usually do, teasing her with your big appearance changes, teasing her “Oh, I’ve totally always had thi-“

Before you can finish she’s up, kissing you hungrily, her hands on your waist and the side of your neck, crowding you against the sink. Your breath hitches as you notice the glimmer in her eye and you can barely contain a little gasp when Vi’s thigh slides between yours.

“Don’t bullshit me Angel, we both know you haven’t always had a tattoo of MY name-“ she’s brushing her fingers across the fresh lettering, making you wince “-especially not here of all places.”

She’s kissing your neck, sucking on the soft skin leaving marks everywhere, slowly making her way down your body. Your hands are in her hair as she reaches your navel. She’s kissing everywhere but the tattoo, stopping to say a few words in between light pecks and little kitten licks “Fuck sweetheart… mmh, I can’t believe… you, fuck… got my… name tatted… ugh.. fuck” her voice trails off sounding so thick and needy. She’s looking up at you through her lashes and you know you’re done for.

You whimper and Vi’s vision goes fuzzy. Forget the shower, forget dinner, she’s carrying you to the nearest bed… so she can look at her name on your skin while she makes you scream it.

[shrimpyjackal]

I NEED to see your versions of grown-up Sammy and Goldie

☆urgently☆

OK that last part is up to you but still give us at least some doodles of 'em pls

well that was not urgent....

I think I tried to do my spin on Goldie in this post, but now I have a tiny changes in her design! Mainly i changed ner hairstyle & made the prev clothes as an alternate option!

I have a concept of em in their casual clothes! ...they have a dozen outfit versions, this is not even funny-

Yapping abt the sillies down below!

Despite the fact that in teen years Sammy was the tallest even in non-human form...now he is the shortest one. Goldie & Peri are the same height, but her shoes make her taller than him. Irep is obv the tallest one-

they all split-up after graduation, and even if they all wanted- they wont find the time or desire to meet. If you wanna catch them all- trap them... Or pull a school-reunion card

Sammy cackled out-loud when heard abt Peri and Godparenting in one sentence. Stopped laughing when realised it was serious.

Goldie had opened to Sammy the world of skirts with poskets and he was not the same since.

Sammy:

Dude is in the middle of development of his food critic career. Never meet him while hes at work. Its like a meeting an entirely different person

oh and btw he is that one friend that has an immediate and drastic communication style-switch depending on the situation or friends he is with,. Often mirrors your behavior, so just be polite with him- he`ll be polite with you

Hanged out with Irep too much- developed a huge love for dark/achromatic clothing with small colorful accents

pockets in his skirts can be so big they can hold his Sparkle Stick without magic expancion. And Da Stick is like 50 cm/ 19`7 in long.

Goldie:

Goldie is a fairly great voice actor! ( i LOVED her voice as a kid so much you have no idea-)

One time teen Goldie (as a joke) participated in a human-world contest for a VA of a side-character in a game, but forgot abt the contest & never knew she won. If anyone told her- she would cry that she missed the opportunity to be popular even outside of the Fairy World

She has hair extentions, her actual hair are shoulder-lengh, and she sometimes dye the tips in pretty colors, for the events.

oh she LOVES pearls, even the uneven-looking ones. Has a lot of handmade pearl-bags. They`re small, but who needs a lot of stuff anyway?

[viti-ocs]

Going apeshit atm because I finally figured out how to be able to use Nicco (since he wasn't my OC). Essentially I am stealing him and making him a whole new person

[bragganhyl]

some brainstorming/patch notes for Bertalan 3.0 Larian's Version Third Time's The Charm Version

has a more messed up backstory, I won't detail it here but it involves being offered to a hag before his birth but then going back on the deal

he is actually Baldurian now, but he prefers staying outside town where he's needed more (as a monster-hunter/herbalist i'm thinking those farmlands/woods that get destroyed in act 3)

has more of a "power reveals" than a "power corrupts" mindset both in terms how power is used and what one might do to obtain power

as such he no longer takes on tadpoles out of insecurity but bc he totally know who he is and what he's about, he can be trusted with power I prommy

as such he is more aware of his own standing in society and has a more dutiful approach to things, but also has more disdain for the peacekeeping organizations of Baldur's Gate but also towards the gods

his age got bumped up a little bit to the 38-44 range

he is now grumpier and angstier but also more confident and with more of a "I know more than you" attitude in acts 1 and 2 but he also also has more of a heart of gold don't worry

alchemy is no longer a metagaming thing he actually has braincells to do it

[erenjaegerwifee]

Omg, you write so good!

Can you write something about Neteyam a little possessive about his secret crush towards his human female friend? I WOULD LOVE THAT SJSJSJS

OFC I CAN! This is such a fucking cute idea!!!!

✧₊⁺ Crushing

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: 18+, mentions of explicit actions

Disclaimer: my characters are aged-up! If u are uncomfortable reading don’t both interacting with my account

Neteyam grew up with you. From since you were a babygirl he was always around or with you, neteyam was fascinated with your small form. The way you learned to walk long after he did even though you were only months apart.

He thought you were weird at first cause you were so small and not blue like him. You had no tail and no point ears, no golden eyes instead you were kind of dull, the only thing you both had in common was your black hair.

Other than that it was wavy not straight like him, your eyes were a different color from him, your skin was brown? A shade of brown? He didn’t know the name of the color. But one thing he does know, you were absolutely beautiful.

In your teen years when you went through puberty you didn’t think much off it, your body was changing but you changed with it so it wasn’t so shocking to you, but neteyam had a hard time keep his eyes to himself. The way your scent changed slightly every month, your body filled out in ways he didn’t know was possible.

He never knew why you stopped wearing na’vi clothes until he saw you in a little tank top and shorts running around with Yuk. The way you tits bounces in your bra, the way your thighs were squeezed into your little denim shorts, he knew your body would just fall right out of na’vi clothing.

Yet still he found you amazingly beautiful. It was weird but it worked out, he would never get to truly mate with you but his mother already liked you. You were probably the only human girl she allowed around. It was perfect for him yet, Neteyam was so scared to tell you how he felt.

What if you thought he was too big and scary? What if you laughed in his face at the thought of being with him? What if you didn’t like him back? His thoughts pledged his mind, he didn’t want to embarrass himself, he didn’t want to face rejection of the first women he had every loved.

But still, his mind never drifted to another woman. Even his family saw the way he looked at you, like you were his very own gift from Eywa. Neteyam had been the only person that put himself in danger to protect you and no matter how much cuts or bruises he received he was happy with himself knowing he kept his special girl safe.

Neteyam loved the way you tied your hair up, he’d spend hours out of his day watching you style your long pretty hair if he could, and he has a few times. Watching the way you’d make different braided hairstyles or ponytails you called them. He especially loved how cute you’d look when you got mad the Pandora humidity made your hair look like you’ve been electrocuted. He thought it was adorable the way you’d continuously run your hands over your head and nothing seems to keep down the frizzy mess.

He loved your sense of human style even though you didn’t have much to work with the clothes you would make from repurposed avatar clothing when they joined the Omatikaya clan and didn’t need them anymore. Or when you would use big petals and leaves to make cute tops and skirts that always seems to fit your figure perfectly.

Neteyam was undeniably in love with you and he would do anything for you to love him back. Tonight, he walked his way to the human outpost, it was late at night but thanks to the humans moving closer to the clan, your bedroom was only about 4 minutes away from his hut.

Neteyam knows you stay awake all hours in the night so he thought nothing off it when he saw the faith glow through your bedroom window. You had a nice view of the forest from there, it faced away from the clan so people couldn’t see you unless they looked. Neteyam made a habit of checking on you before bed so he went to the window before anything else.

He walked up to it you were in clear view, luckily since your bedroom light was on your window acted as a mirror for you, but he could see you clear as day from outside. He watched you lay in bed in an oversized t-shirt undoubtedly an avatar’s, your legs were bare and shiny, you shaved. Your hair was loose, it curled so pretty over your shoulders and you laid on a big pillow snuggled up to your fluffy sheets and blankets.

You looked like you were drowning under all that warmth you looked adorable. When you got up off your bed and walked across the room to your desk, your back turned to him letting him see the back of your t-shirt.

Neteyam was not prepared. Your t-shirt stopped right under your ass and you bent over to pick up something from the floor displaying for him your pretty pink panties that were riding up your ass just perfectly.

It’s been a long time since neteyam saw some skin on you, it make his cock harden just seeing a sliver of what no one else does. He dropped to him knees by your window sill now only his face was in view, not that you could see him. You were so sexy for a little thing. He wants so bad to lay it down on you.

Neteyam pressed his forehead up against the window starting at your plump pretty ass until you stood back up. Only then did he blink refocusing on your t-shirt and then it caught his eye.

His brain lagged taking in the word he knew all too well, on the back on your shirt was the word big and bold ‘SULLY’ it was undoubtedly his father’s old t-shirt but seeing you sport something with his name on it made him shiver.

You had to be his, you’re literally carrying his name. He swears if you pumped you full of his babies it would be when you had his name written down on your skin, maybe he could convince you to get one of those human tattoos, he had hear they were permanent. He’d love to fuck into you seeing his name displayed pretty on your lower back over your ass, of above your collarbone so he can watch you tits bouce and see his ownership at the same time.

You have to be his. He has to tell you how he feels. He can’t let you get away and fall for someone else no. If Eywa didn’t give him a sign you were meant to belong to him before, she did now. Or at least that’s what he got out of tonight.

Tags: @rivatar @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @delusionalwh6re @nilahsstuff @m1tsu-ki @kylimarz @quicktosimp

✨ Part 2 is out! Here!

[thebestsetter]

Kuroo has always had a bad hair.

Ever since he was a kid, one of his main physical traits is his atrocious bed hair. He wakes up like that because of how hard he presses his pillows to his ears while he sleeps, so it's not really a habit he can change easily. Also, he has never had a problem with it, especially because his pretty wife, you, said it's one of your favorite parts of him.

You always talk about how you love his hair, even if you still call him "rooster head" sometimes. You love to pet it, you love the shape, the color and everything involving his hair. Not even he is capable of understanding the "attraction" you feel for it, so he just enjoys it.

So yeah, he doesn't really hate his hair, and overtime, he learned how to keep it more "tamed" and "behaved". So he thought his hair problems were over. No more bad hair days.

Well, he thought.

"Stupid... hair tie...." Kuroo murmured, voice coming out muffled because of the pink butterfly pin with glitter that was on his mouth. His eyes held a look of extreme concentration, akin to a hunter aiming for a deer in the middle of the woods.

He was serious. In fact, he had never been so serious in his life. Because this wasn't any occasion. It was the first time you had ever let him dress up your 5 year old daughter for school. He couldn't mess this up.

Her hair needed to be perfect. He just seemed to forget he had never braided a hair before in his life.

"Daddy, are you alright?" His little girl asked, feet moving around and hands on her lap, waiting patiently for her dad to finish the "amazing hairstyle" he promised her.

If only she knew.

"Yeah, sweetheart!" Tetsuro said, drops of sweat running down his forehead. "Just wait a little more!" He said, taking his phone off his pocket while still holding a lock of hair and still with the butterfly pin in his mouth.

He then started watching a video on youtube. It's title was "How to make a braid with only 3 steps".

"Ah, so it's actually done with 3 locks of hair, not only 2!"

He then began treading his daughter's hair with such precision that it was scary. His eyes were focused and it seemed like he couldn't pay attention to anything else. It was only him, the hair ties, and the hair. Nothing else.

After a while, things were actually going somewhere.

No way. He was almost getting it finished!

"Tetsu, honey, are you guys ready?" He heard you calling from the kitchen

"One sec, love!" Kuroo shouted back. "Now I just need to do this and... AHA! My masterpiece is ready!"

"How do I look, daddy?" His daughter asked, smiling brightly at him. Even if she had some missing teeth, Kuroo swore it was the prettiest smile he had ever seen in his life. Of course it was. It was just like your's, afterall.

"You look amazing sweetie. Like a real princess! You're your dad's princess, you know that, right?"

"Thank you dad!" She smiled again, hugging him strongly. He hug her back, careful not to touch her hair in the process. He couldn't ruin his hard work!

"Now, why don't we go show mama how great you look, hm?" He crouched down and smiled at her

"Of course! Let's go dad!" She laughed, grabbing his hands and pulling him downstairs.

She really was the cutest kid Kuroo has ever seen.

"Okay sweetheart, close your eyes!" Kuroo said, peeking from the kitchen's door. "Our daughter wants to surprise you with her amazing hair - the one I braided, of course"

"Sure, Tetsu! I can't wait to see this great work of art!" You giggled, using a sarcatic tone.

I mean, look at his hair. He couldn't have an experience with braiding. It was clear the hair would look utterly horrible.

"Hey, I sensed that sarcasm!" He said, which made you giggle "Mind you, she loved it!"

"If you say so. I'm gonna close my eyes now!" You smiled, putting your hands on front of your eyes to show them you wouldn't cheat and open your eyes

"No peaking, mama!" You heard your daughter saying, her little footsteps making you realize she entered the kitchen.

"Yeah, no peaking!" Kuroo agreed.

Gosh, they really were the same.

"Okay, okay! I'm not gonna peek"

"Now, I'm gonna count to three and say 'now'. Then you can open your eyes!" Kuroo said, voice showing how excited he was

"Okay!" You smiled

"1..."

You were really starting to think he did a great job. He looked so proud of it, after all!

"2..."

You heard your daughter giggling in the background. Maybe you really judged your husband wrong. Maybe he did know how to braid hairs.

"3..."

You were sure it would be at least decent. If it was, then you'd let your daughter wear it to school. If they were both happy, why not?

"Now!"

You then remove your hands from your face and open your eyes, meeting the most...

Atrocious braid you've ever seen.

"She's not going like that to school." You deadpanned, looking at the hair and wondering why he thought this looked good. Had he never seen a braid before in his life?

"HUH? WHY NOT?" Kuroo shouted, his chest that was once proudly puffed up now deflating

"Why not, mama?" Your daughter started tearing up, looking up at you with big, pleading eyes.

"It looks..." terrible. Is what you really wanted to say.

But looking at your the sad faces of your family members, you didn't find the strength to do so. And so, with a sigh, you smiled and said

"Too good! Other kids will be jealous!"

"For a moment there I thought you were judging my hairstyling habilities!" Kuroo laughed, that obnoxious laugh of his that you loved so much echoing through the halls

"Oh!" Your daughter also laughed, the same way her dad did "There's no problem! I can tell dad to do their hairstyles too!"

"Great idea, sweetie!" Kuroo agreed with her, eyes sparkling up

"I think... it's better if you don't"

"What do you mean by that?" Kuroo asked, looking straight at you with a very sad face.

"Just... you don't seem to have a talent with hairs."

"But you told me you love my hair!" Tetsuro pouted

"I do. And I love you, too!" You kissed his nose, making him smirk at you.

"Not enough. What about... here?"

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a kiss on the lips. It was full of all the love and passion he held for you and the family you both created together.

"Ewww, daddy and mommy are kissing! Gross!" Your daughter put her tongue out and did a "throwing up" mimic, making you both laugh.

"Now, let's take you to school, sweetheart!"

You smiled, leading both your husband and your daughter to the car.

You really loved your family, even if Kuroo didn't know how to deal with hairs sometimes.

You wonder if he would "get along" better with his son's hair. The son that he still doesn't know is in your belly right now.

Well, he still has 7 months to practice for when the time comes.

~ A/N: FINALLY WROTE A REQUEST!! It was so fun writing this omG. I love healthy families 💕. ALSO, first hq fic!! 🥳🥳

Masterlist

[kryptznnn]

♛- Hypnotized

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

➸ INTERESTS; - pro-hero! katsuki bakugo x f! intern reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - (requested submission by @nivphcyo) As you reached your early twenties, you successfully received a part time job as an intern within a specific pro-hero’s company. More specifically one you’ve had a crush on since your teens, so you do everything in your power to make him see you the way you do him.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc. roughly 1.5k, employee x boss trope, friends with benefits, working environment, age gap (48 & 22), smut, slight dirty talk, daddy/sir kink, overstimulation, p in v (unprotected), orgasm mention (both m & f), oral sex (f!receiving), marking/hickey mentions, kissing, romantic gestures, romantic tension, sexual tension, indecision, etc.

➸a.i; - thank you for the req!! sorry it’s short but i hope you enjoy it and it’s within what you expected, i had fun writing it!! xoxo

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

song recommendations:

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

His eyes hadn’t left your figure as you walked into his office for the second time this week. Your heels clicking onto the clean tile floors as he watched from his desk, slowly covering his mouth with his hand before dragging it down and looking away.

He soon stood up, buttoning the single button he had removed on his tuxedo jacket before walking over to you and leaving his hand out to shake. You took it and shook it politely, now making eye contact with him before he let your hand go and looked away.

Katsuki Bakugo was one of many things, a pro-hero, a model, a former teacher, a former husband, and a current businessman. Out of all of his professions has he never encountered a problem as great as the one in front of him today. You were a problem, you always had been since you first started several months ago.

As he went over your files and heard of the others within his firm speaking of you he hadn’t taken much thought into it, but when you came into his office all cheerful and happy he knew. He knew how much of an issue this could’ve spiraled into if he didn’t get control of himself.

He was too old to be dealing with this, far too old. The only thing that could make others not tell it either was possibly the fact that his natural hair color was so light, practically camouflaging the grey hairs that made their ways out from his scalp. He could tell of course, he always has been able too, and even as he let his beard grow out slowly he could tell. The small dashes of grey and sand that seemed to mix together within his beard proved it.

By some miracle that he might’ve prayed for, he gained a compliment from you on your first encounter, complimenting his hairstyle along with his beard. You spoke of how it suited his figure and level of maturity, that you liked it, and honestly the way you spoke he was sure you had purred the words out instead of spoke. Whatever it was had him hooked, he was hooked onto you even though he knew he shouldn’t have been.

If anything you were a little under half of his age, and towards some alarm it hadn’t bothered you, but it had to him entirely. Let alone the fact you were his employee, working towards his firm to support his work as a pro-hero, knowing he would retire soon enough further down the years.

He wasn’t sure what had switched within you or what caused you to make such a drastic thought, but when you began to come to work with different attire it awoken something in him. Your skirts getting shorter or tighter, wearing your tuxedo jacket less and less within the firm unless there was a change in weather. He hated it, he hated what you were doing and he hated how it made him feel.

He also hated how whenever you would walk into his office and did that little thing you’d do with your hands or face before letting your hair down slightly. You were teasing him, you both knew it, you loved it and you loved watching his expression. The two of you had already knew he was drawn to you, so overall if you were flirtatious or teasing there was nothing he could do to stop you or say to stick professional, because deep down in his dark desires he loved it.

He wasn’t sure if it was just lust or love, maybe a mixture of both, but he didn’t want anything else to do with anyone unless if it was you. He was just as quick to call you into his office to listen to your reports as much as he was jealous when you would be on break with other men in the firm. He would always keep his eye on you from afar, gritting his teeth as he watched you laugh with them, sway your hips, flip your hair to tie it back, reapplying parts of your makeup.

You knew better than to do things like that when he had his eyes on you, of course you didn’t actually know that, he just assumed you did. He thought the ideas and hints between the two of you were made clear without sharing any words, but apparently he was wrong. This alone has now brought the two of you here, into his office late at night after everyone’s shifts had finished.

He now was quick to offer you a seat in front of his desk as he walked over to the large glass window behind him, serving as a wall as he looked down towards the dimly lit city. He took a sharp deep breath attempting to push down the sinful thoughts he had of you earlier before speaking.

“L/n, you are one of the hardest working women I have here in my firm, and you’ve also been here for nearly a year now.” He started, still looking out the window but speaking loud enough for you to hear, your eyes were glued onto his back with furrowed brows, thinking to yourself what he must’ve been waiting to say or break the news to you.

“But I’ve also taken notice of your sudden relationship with one of the other male coworkers recently, and must ask if things have remained professional between the two of you.” He spoke, slightly turning his head over his shoulder awaiting your response, you immediately began to stutter before speaking.

“Of course sir, there’s nothing happening between us. We just joke around too much about personal stuff and other things.” You spoke in a worried tone, shaking your head slightly as you raised your hands to speak with them. He only looked back out to the window again before speaking, huffing as he did so.

“So him speaking this morning of how he was going to quote on quote ‘Fuck you senseless until you can’t think’ was also a part of the joke?” He said, his voice laced with anger. If anything even if he wasn’t turned around you could see the thick vein that would appear out of his forehead and throat out of frustration.

Honestly you were taken aback by his saying, not even aware that he had said nothing like that. You wore a shocked look on your face, thinking back to him and shuddering at the feeling of him saying those things with the other guys. You quickly realized that your silence might’ve been taken as an answer and stood up in a rush to defend yourself.

“No sir, under no circumstance was I even aware that he had said any of those things about me. I am entirely sorry, I’ve let this strain out too far, I never knew he was that type of person.” You stated, now standing up and attempting to make your way over to him slowly.

He caught onto the click of your heels again, his attitude less angry now as he could smell your perfume from behind him. This wasn’t fair, no matter how hard he tried or how upset he was at the world he could never be with you. It was as if the universe itself was teasing him instead of you, taunting him with something he had been craving, desired, but couldn’t have.

You were everything to him, and he knew it, you were intelligent and charismatic, if anything your personality was the entire opposite of his and he adored it. You gave him hope, and just by several conversations with you or about you he realized exactly what you were to him. There was even a time where he had opened up to you about his ex wife, to which you laughed at her traits and compared yourself to him, saying you would never do such things or even dream of acting that way.

And he seconded it, believing every word you said and even added that whoever you were with in the future would be lucky to have you. Then refraining back to business as he always had when the tension between the two of you became too strong. Now he had to stand here and settle this with you, his feelings included.

“I trust you.” He spoke, now turning around slowly to look at you. You only looked at him with a worried expression as your heels clicked to a stop, looking into his eyes with a slight frown. You only replied in agreement before speaking again, this time your tone hinted seriousness.

“I like my men much more older than me anyways.” You added, smirking slightly as you watched his body stiffen as his breath hitched. He quickly made his way around you before taking a seat at his soft chair at his desk, his back now facing you. You only raised a brow and made your way over to him waverly.

This was wrong, he thought to himself about everything, anything that could die down the feeling of excitement he felt when you spoke those words to him. He was old enough to be your father if he wanted, let alone the fact you worked for him, it was forbidden, everything about it was.

A large emphasis on was, because as of right now he had you spread across his desk. Your back laid flat on the harsh cold wood as your legs were spread. Your face was flushed and your hair had been a mess, let alone the lipstick you wore, as it was no surprise that your clothing had been practically forced off, scattered across the floor behind you as he ate you out.

Your small moans and mewls were like music to his ears as he hummed in satisfaction listening to you. He was intoxicated by you and everything you did, so when his grip on your thighs tightened from how hard you gripped his hair and your rambling had gotten louder he wasted no time in applying more pressure. The sight from his point of view was for sore eyes, watching as beads of sweat trickled down your throat and forehead out of concentration, and your hair sticking to parts of your face. Even every now and then when you would whimper and throw your head back as tears rolled down your cheeks, he loved it.

“Sir, I’m so close, please- fuck.” You whined, your legs now taking the initiative to press closed, nearly closing his head in between as he held your legs spread, only humming in response to which your body shook, feeling the vibrations in your clit.

Sooner than later your orgasm had washed over you harshly, your back arching as you mumbled over and over lines of curse words. Attempting to wash over your high you practically began to ride his face, heavy moans and grunts leaving your throat as you seized, now attempting to sit up straight to look at him.

He had a large grin plastered on his face, a mixture of saliva and your remains coated his lips before he licked them and yanked you closer to him. His now unbuttoned shirt was being removed as he wore a wife eater underneath, you placed your hand on his chest, quick to roll it up as he removed it.

For someone within his late forties his body was to kill for, he might’ve lost a lot of things or changed on various occasions but his body and physique wasn’t one of them. You quickly looked away flushed and drew your hand away, only for him to pull it back and place it back over his torso.

“You asked for this remember? Now help me out.” He spoke, now drawing your attention back to him before unzipping his pants, his painful erection now springing free as he pulled down his underwear. You took action before he could, your cold hands dragging down before making your way to it, hearing him hiss as you pressed your thumb over his tip.

It had leaked of pre-cum and if you hadn’t known any better when you picked up your head to look at him it seemed as if he was embarrassed by it. You wasted no time before aligning yourself against it, rubbing up and down on it attempting to coat it in your slick before pressing it towards your entrance.

Quickly catching you by surprise Katsuki slammed into you, his thrusts quick and rough as you yelled at the sudden movement towards how sensitive you were from your primary orgasm. Your hands made way to his shoulders, practically hanging onto him for dear life as he bent down and whispered into your ear.

“Whatcha think? Gonna be my little work slut? Huh?” He asked, pulling back slightly as he was answered with your moans getting louder before playing with your nipples with one hand, as he placed the other one down on the desk beside you as leverage. The way you moaned several names towards him and cried underneath him gave him his answer, especially with how quickly you were nodding now. He was surprised at first seeing and listening to you, muttering the words ‘daddy’ and ‘sir’ repeatedly, it had awakened something in him he hadn’t expected.

He only chuckled at you before releasing your nipples from his grasp and pushing down on your lower abdomen, his large hand finding way over your pelvis. His smirk had now widened as a realization came to mind before he spoke again.

“Can you feel me right here? Yeah? You feel daddy inside you?” He asked with a coo, almost as if to mock you before your tears become more, nodding to him as your nails were now digging into his skin as your legs were left lifted into the air. Somehow by your surprise your left heel had still remained on your foot, your stockings now full of sweat and having a large tear in the middle between your legs.

“Please, please sir, I can’t” you whined, now changing the name you had called him prior between daddy and sir. He only persisted you could as he angled himself deeper inside of you, hissing as he felt you continue to tighten around him, your gummy walls weakening him.

It hadn’t helped that now it felt as if he was destroying you from inside out, his tip brutally brushing against your cervix with each thrust. Causing your curses and babbles to become louder and louder as he lowered his hand to play with your clit as your leg had now recoiled back. Your knee had been bent entirely and you could feel your heel brush against your bottom as he did so.

You felt yourself about to give out before being snapped back into reality as a familiar feeling brewed in your lower belly. The feeling was more intense than before as you now began whining and repeating the same actions as before. Katsuki could already tell that you were close, but he still kept his eyes locked onto your face.

You looked pretty, he thought to himself, beautiful even. Worn out and flushed beyond the point of coming back, heavy breathing and salty skin from your sweat and small hickeys that danced across your collarbones. Without any thought he leaned down to kiss you, his eyes closed as you kissed him back, his tongue asking for entrance which you obliged as he explored your mouth.

It hadn’t helped how you moaned into the kiss when you reached your orgasm, quickly making his cock twitch from inside you. His heavy pants and worships of praise and slight degrading quickly came to an end after you reached your high, quickly pulling out of you before reaching own orgasm, stroking himself shortly before his release coated your lower belly.

As you both breathed heavy and looked at the mess you had made around his office you smiled slightly at each other. You soon laid out back on his desk as you now felt tired, feeling him wipe on your lower stomach with some sort of cloth before kissing you there.

This was going to be the first of many incidents within his office as his intern, that you both knew.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[saturngalore]

afrofuturism🪐

☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆

mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3

this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.

to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.

blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).

in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).

last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 x [human] reader (gender not implied/specified/mentioned) SYNOPSIS: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 is determianted to court you (even when in his opinion it's just a formality). TW. delusional thinking, biting, mention of blood A/N: I am fighting writer's block to the best of my abilities but man, fighting Thanos would be easier than that.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 who courts you after the very first meeting. It starts small to see if you're interested in him in the first place (in his option it's only formality but he wants to be gentlemerman). But he wants you to know he's taking the whole matter seriously. He brings you the most beautiful trinkets, pieces of coral, pearls of various sizes and colors and shells each different from another but all in perfect condition. Sometimes he even creates jewelry from an ocean plant, pearls and shells. You are often surprised to see him eagerly swimming towards you, with a bag made out of abodemen fishnet filled to the brim with various things taken straight out of the deep sea. You're even more taken aback when it turns out those things are for you. His face absolutely lights up when you accept each and every token. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 also can't help but to chirp loudly, boldly showing you how happy he is to see you accepting his (courting) gifts. You have to admit, his reaction is adorable.

"Oh...look at this one!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 eagerly picked up another shell who has caught his attention. It was big and only needed a little cleaning to make it shine. "It's perfect for the necklace! Oh, oh! And look at that!"

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 who affectionately bites you whenever he gets a chance. That's the next stage of courting where an interested merfolk is supposed to nib the one he's interested in to show them they want to take courting to the next level. It's that stage where a courting couple starts to show the public that they're into each other. It served as both letting others know it's a serious matter and leaving a mark/scent on each other for the public to back off. He's got sharp canines and premolars so it's easy for him to leave a mark on your smooth skin. Marking you quickly becomes his favorite thing. Especially when he draws some blood that leaves a wonderful smell. You don't understand why 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 does that, especially when you scold him or tell him not to do that. But he doesn't stop, nibbing at whatever part of your body he can. It's part of the courting rituals after all!

"Oh no, my marks are healing." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 deflated when he noticed the puncures began to fade. Only to quickly perk up when he realized he's got to mark you again and more.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 who takes care of his scales like never before. This is a vital part of courting since merfolk want to look their best for their mate. He was taught that as courtier, he should look his best. And that's what 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 does. Suddenly turning from a crude merman whose only interest was hunting for food and playing around, into the beauty guru. He began to thoughtfully groom his tail, until his scales reflected and sparkled under the mere streams of sunlight. He also changed his hairstyle by braiding his hair differently to symbolize that he is now taken (even when you're unaware of that). 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 was never more beautiful.

"This just won't do." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 tutted when he noticed his tail was becoming dull. He needed to look his absolute best for you!

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 who decorates his abode for you. After you accept his first courting gift, he happily swims back to where he lives. It's a cave hidden from the plain sight that, much to his horror, appears to be extremely empty and bland. Something that just won't do, especially for his precious mate. Without a moment of hesitation, he starts the preparation. Inside his cave he plants: seaweed, kelp, red sea whips and various colorful corals. Those are only various of many but soon enough the inside of his abode is filled with soft plants, floating lazily around and glistening with colors. On the outside though, he planted a few poisonous plants that he's immune to, since 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 doesn't want intruders to meddle somewhere where they shouldn't be. This part of the courting ritual should be done before the mating season takes place and both parties are in agreement to spend this time with each other. But as we can see, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 just couldn't wait and decided to be prepared. After all, he believes that this whole courting matter is only formality for you to surely return his feelings and has already accepted him as your mate. Just like he did you.

"Is it colorful enough? Should I add something more? Hm, I'll better plant more of those..."

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[kaisserin]

Show me your nails

This is your first time visiting a beauty salon with Sebastian's money. Warning: age difference (student reader), Ferrari! seb, sugar daddy, beauty industry, jerking off to a man, 18+

You rarely visited any fashionable beauty salons. Or rather, never. All your concern for appearance was reduced to a pair of masks in the morning and before going to bed. You preferred to do your nails at a friend's place. The student scholarship did not allow her to look like a model from fashion week. But everything changed when Sebastian came into your life. Of course, you were embarrassed to ask him for a couple hundred extra euros. You didn't want him to think that you were with him because of his financial condition. Your shyness made the four-time champion smile every time. - Y/n, honey, why do I need a seven-digit number on the card if I can't spend it on the girl I love? So it is this time. You and Sebastian were going to another event hosted by Ferrari. And since this should be your first appearance as a racer's girlfriend, you should look the part. You refused for a long time before Sebastian literally put a wad of euros in your pocket and told you to spend every penny on yourself. You have no choice but to obey this man. Sometimes his persistence got on your nerves and in his desire to spend money on you, he turned into a pain in the ass. No wonder that by the evening you barely recognized yourself in the mirror: shining makeup, styled hair where not a single hair gets out of the hairstyle and of course manicure: scarlet nails with a small white "five" on the ring finger and index fingers painted in the color of the German flag, his flag. Sebastian couldn't help but look at you. Almost all the way to Maranello, he tirelessly kissed your hand, which seemed so small in his large palm, calloused from gloves and steering wheel. Suddenly, he braked a little more sharply at the traffic light. You swayed in the passenger seat and leaned forward slightly. You put your hand forward and by chance it clearly falls on the groin of the Ferrari racer. Sebastian looks down. Your delicate palm with those lovely red nails on his black trousers. He feels like he's starting to tense up under your palm. You've noticed it too, and you can't help but grin. - Sebastian? -Yes, honey? You lightly rubbed the fabric of his trousers, which got a guttural growl. - Sweetheart, we're halfway to the event, I can't just show up there with a boner. - That's right, you can't. You reached for the belt buckle, then for the zipper and his organ is already in your hands. His organ was almost completely ready for action. Your fingers are wrapped around the trunk. The darkness in the cabin made the color of the penis almost burgundy and more alluring. You swiped your finger up and down several times, making Sebastian literally growl with excitement. The red nails slid over the velvety skin, the thumb froze on the oozing head. Your movements were speeding up and slowing down. Sebastian has already started to enter you on his own, wanting to get the necessary release. Sebastian has already pushed into your hand on his own, wanting to get a discharge. Already in the parking lot in Maranello, he poured out, staining your fingers with his seed. He quickly cleaned himself of his tracks, but you didn't miss the chance to lick your index finger, as if there were still traces of your prank. An hour later, you were already beaming at the event as a couple. Sebastian possessively forced you to wrap your hand around his forearm and dozens of cameras captured the moment where your delicate hand with red nails was wrapped around a black jacket sleeve. And no one guessed what this hand with red nails was capable of.

[unhingedzaryah]

uhhh…is love and deepspace bringing me out of my inactive era / writers block?? This is probably ooc since I just started playing the game and I haven’t written anything in a while soooo…yeah. Just bare with me :)

boyfriend!sylus x blk fem!reader

minors, ageless, haters/harassers dni!!

boyfriend!sylus who absolutely loves every hairstyle you wear but he makes it very clear that he loves your natural hair the most. he loves the entire process of helping you with your hair, from taking it down, to detangling washing and blowdrying. He’ll just sit next to you to hand you whatever you need. Ponytail holders, pins, gel, brushes etc. When you’re finished styling it, he always has a small grin on his face. He pulls you to his chest, biting softly at your cheek and mumbling a low “beautiful” in your ear.

boyfriend!sylus who currently has you bouncing on his thick cock right after you just got a silk press! the car windows are foggy and you’re already sweating. “sy - sylus, i just got my fucking hair done!” you whine, partly because you really wanted your hair pressed for the weekend activities you had planned and partly because your deranged boyfriend is drilling inside your pussy like there’s no tomorrow. he grabs your chin and mutters a “sorry, kitten. It couldn’t be helped.” before slipping his tongue inside your mouth, effectively making you forget how pissed off you are.

boyfriend!sylus who starts making his chefs incorporate some of your favorite meals into their meals. he notices how there’s certain things you don’t particularly like and remembers you babbling about some of the meals your grandmother used to make you before her unfortunate passing.

boyfriend!sylus who sees you wearing a bonnet for the first time since you’ve started dating. he tilts his head in confusion and you can’t help but think he looks like a really cute puppy. you explain what it is and why you wear it, when you’re done he just nods his head and places a kiss on your forehead. the following weekend, there’s a box delivered with bonnets of all sizes and colors.

boyfriend!sylus who sees you taking pictures during golden hour and he just lays on the bed admiring how good you look.

boyfriend!sylus who wastes no time in beating the shit out of a man who made a very disgusting and cruel comment about you and ‘your kind’. Sometimes his violent behavior startles you and other times it makes you want to ride him from dusk to dawn.

boyfriend!sylus who’s helping you pick out a dress to wear for your dinner date. “which one? black or burgundy?” you hold up both dresses so he can take a closer look, after a few moments of silence he hums. ruby eyes flick over to the bed to look at all other dresses you pulled out, he clicks his tongue “what about the gold one?”

you scrunch your nose. “but your tie?” he huffs. “don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll change it.” he’s already reaching to towards his neck when you speak again. “you sure?” he takes a step closer and leans down so you’re eye to eye. “yes, love. I love this color on you, wear this one.” He picks up the dress and hands it to you, gently pushing you towards the bathroom.

boyfriend!sylus who will never admit it out loud but he hates being away from you too long. he needs you around him and in his space at all times or he starts getting grumpier than usual. whenever he’s stressed or pissed off, he seeks you out and plops you in his lap so he can kiss you and play with your hair. He might even use your boobs at stress balls but you tease him about it sometimes but he just huffs and ignores you.

boyfriend!sylus who has your legs thrown over his shoulders while he takes his time teasing you with his hot velvety tongue and long, thick fingers. he’s had you wound up so long that you can’t even remember how much time has passed. “sy…please. I need it.” a low hum comes from his chest, it vibrates through your whole body. his eyes flutter open and lock onto yours immediately. “do you honestly think you deserve it? after being a brat the whole day?”

when you don’t respond, three thick fingers sink back into your cunt, making your body arch. “answer me, kitten.” except you can’t answer him and he knows you can’t because he’s curling his fingers inside you, pressing against that spot and god you’re so close. So fucking close! Just a few more thrusts and — “no!” your voice comes out weak and betrayed, you can feel the tears start to well. His fingers slow then come to a complete stop.

a soft kiss is placed on your thigh, followed by a sharp bite. “you know I don’t reward bad behavior, be a good girl and I’ll give you want you really want.”

— All rights reserved. Please do not copy, steal or translate any of my works!!. 2 dividers from @cafekitsune

[thy-lovelylionheart]

Mike Wheeler: S4 Outfits & Identity Crisis Analysis

One of aspects of s4 I find the most interesting is Mike's costuming. We see him in 4 distinct outfits in this season (not counting the white t-shirt look since it's not a separate outfit), and they are all interesting in their own right. But ultimately, they all contrast each other and represent different aspects of Mike's internal conflict and identity crisis.

s4 is the season where Mike's internal conflict is externalized via his costume design. He’s trying to figure out who he is and – like for so many queer teens – it starts with his hair and his clothes. 

Shout-out to @glisten-inthedark because it was during a fantastic discussion that I drafted out a much shorter, much rougher version of this analysis!

*Disclaimer: While a lot of my analysis is formatted as statements – more out of habit from years of writing academic essays than anything – much of this is still speculation and subjective opinion. If you have a different perspective or disagree with my analysis, that's perfectly fine! This is just my interpretation.

1.

First up, my second favorite outfit: The Hellfire outfit.

If you put this Mike beside any of his s3 outfits, the difference is incredibly stark. s3 Mike has bright colors, neons spread throughout the palette, nearly all of them collared shirts. Yet the first outfit we see Mike wear in s3 is edgier: nearly all-black, featuring the word HELLFIRE loud and proud, the face of a tiefling or daemon, and weapons. This is also the first time we've seen Mike wear a graphic tee, which is more up Dustin's alley.

Not only this, but his hair is long enough to brush his shoulders, the longest we've ever seen it. Finn Wolfhard calls it "kind of the most metal Mike's hair has ever been."

So why is this so important? Let's talk about modeling for a second.

Dustin models himself after Steve in parts of s2. He listens to Steve's romantic advice and styles his hair like Steve's for the Snow Ball. For Dustin, Steve represents the masculine, heternormative ideal: the kind of guy who girls want to date, a "ladies man." When Dustin does find a girlfriend who loves him for him, he stops modeling after Steve in terms of outward appearance and returns to his own personal sense of style in s3. In fact, it's Dustin who ends up giving Steve romantic advice in s3, because their roles have flipped: Dustin is comfortable in who he is and his romantic prospects, whereas Steve is struggling. ("Instead of dating somebody because you think it's gonna make you cooler, why not date somebody you actually enjoy being around?"

Lucas wears a Karate Kid shirt in s3 bc Max thinks Ralph Macchio is attractive, so he wears clothes that reference him to appeal to her, his girlfriend, but he mixes it with his classic camo bandana because Lucas has a very strong sense of self that was only rocked in s4, when he tries to model after the basketball team, who are also representative of (1980's) socially acceptable masculinity and heteronormativity, for popularity's sake. But he ends up rejecting their blind conformity and regains his sense of self by the middle of the season.

And Mike…..models after Eddie. Eddie “forced conformity is what’s killin’ the kids” Munson. Not just in clothes, but in his more "metal" hairstyle. Eddie even makes a note about Mike’s wardrobe change during the cafeteria scene, saying he’s no longer wearing whatever his mom buys him at the GAP, which highlight this change for the audience.

This is significant because even though Dustin and Lucas are his fellow nerds, even though both Dustin and Lucas end up being chased down by Jason & Friends for their status as members of the Hellfire Club, even though they're labeled as outcasts and reject conformity in their own way –

– they still model themselves after classic heteronormative and socially acceptable representations of masculinity, while Mike is the only one who actively models himself after the school “freak" and vocal non-conformist.

Sure, Dustin wears the Hellfire shirt too, but Dustin is the graphic tee king of the show and he still wears an iconic baseball cap and overlays his graphic tee with a fun and funky button-up in s4. How he dresses in s4 is wholly consistent with his identity throughout the rest of the show. Whereas Mike's first outfit of the show contrasts heavily with all of his outfits from the previous seasons particularly s3.

And this is intentional. This is what Amy Parris, costume designer for Stranger Things says in this GQ interview about it:

Mike's Hellfire Outfit represents his growing internal resistance to and rejection of conformity and societal expectation.

2.

....which is exactly why the airport outfit gives the viewer such insane whiplash.

It is bright, gaudy, dorky, cartoonish and a completely different person than we were just shown. It's no version of Mike we've ever seen. Sure, we've seen him in shorts, and that surfer shirt is technically a button-up, but that hat? Those glasses? Flip-flops? It's so clearly an act that it's laughable.

Amy Parris, in the same GQ interview as before, goes as far to say, "We knew we'd wanted something that felt like an outfit maybe he would've bought at the airport before he got there."

This isn't Mike. This is Mike's attempt at conformity, post-meeting and modeling after Eddie. This is Mike feeling like who he is in Hawkins – the edgier Mike who models after the school "freak" – isn't the "right" version of himself to immediately present to El after months and months apart. Almost like he feels the need to wear something more similar to what he wore in s3, the shorts and the bright colors, to "ease into" the rest of his wardrobe, because when he's with El, he strives to present as "normal."

Finn Wolfhard says this about Mike in s4: "I think Mike's just trying to be as normal as possible and trying to keep on a normal path." Yet Mike says this in s4: "Have you ever considered that we don't want to be popular?"

If Mike isn't trying to be "normal" in Hawkins and is sitting at lunch with the school "freak," then in what ways he is trying to be "normal"? It's when he's with El in California, particularly their first day before everything goes to hell. Yet we see that "normal" = not himself.

Amy Parris notes in the GQ interview that they picked an orange (a rather yellow orange) button-up because it's the opposite of what Mike normally wears (blue tones).

The purple shirt is also an attempt for him to appeal toward El because purple, according to Mike, is one of her favorite colors. He is trying to appeal to El's taste/likes while wearing the literal opposite of what he normally does.

Mike's Airport Outfit represents his attempts to conform to heteronormativity and society's expectation of what a "good straight boyfriend" does, is, and looks like – and how unnatural and unlike himself this attempt is.

3.

This plaid look is my personal favorite Mike look in s5. This is one of the very few times we see Mike with an untucked shirt – possibly the first time we see him wearing a button-up/collared shirt and it's not tucked in. Untucked makes him look less preppy, taller, and more mature. It's a very flattering look and especially refreshing after the airport look.

But, I also have a lot to say about this symbolism of this particular outfit.

The rich blue is a standard Mike color, so it's the first outfit he wears in s4 that feels familiar to us. Additionally, the hint of yellow is commonly speckled throughout Mike's wardrobe. However, look at the pattern. It's plaid.

We all know by now that Mike is the king of stripes. Stripes and the color blue are the most consistent aspect of his wardrobe other than his calculator watch. But plaid?

There are only two instances in the entire show where Mike wears plaid. (I've triple-checked this, but if I still somehow overlooked anything, please let me know!) Here, in s4, and in his final scene in s1:

(top row is unedited, bottom row is brightened – no I couldn't get a flattering screenshot of the second image lol)

A blue plaid with (faint) yellow accents. Hm. How intriguingly familiar!

In s1, we see Mike experiencing conflicting emotions in his final scene. He is very happy that Will is back and that Will is having fun with his DND game. But he is also sad that Eleven is gone and experiencing survivor's guilt. His emotions are split between Will and El. This emotional turmoil is illustrated with the use of much busier pattern than Mike normally wears, but because that pattern is plaid, a pattern Will often wears, it aligns him with Will.

Why does plaid connect Mike to Will yet not El, even though El has worn plaid before? Because El has only worn plaid because of her circumstances, not her own personal style.

El first wears plaid when Hopper gives her his flannel in s1. This continues into s2 when she begins living with him. She's receiving either hand-me-downs from him or boy's clothes because he's having to hide the fact that he's sheltering a girl wanted by the government. If Hop were to start buying girl's clothing/more feminine clothing, that would be suspicious. When El goes on her shopping spree with Max in s3, after Max tells her to focus on what feels like her – "not Hopper, not Mike, you" – she picks bold, bright colors and abstract patterns, completely avoiding plaid. Then, in s4, El is living with the Byers and receiving their hand-me-downs and borrowing from their closets.

Amy Parris confirms this in the GQ interview, that what El wears in s2 is meant to feel mismatched, borrowed, and hand-me-down because she is trying to figure out who she is in Lenora.

She also says this:

It was intentional that when El wore plaid in s4, it was meant to remind the audience of Will and look as though she was wearing his clothes.

Which means Plaid = Will, not El.

So let's put this all together: Mike has worn plaid once before, when he was experiencing conflicting emotions torn between Will and El. Plaid is Will's pattern, not El's. Blue is Mike's color, and it's commonly known that yellow is Will's, which means that not only is Mike wearing Will's pattern, he's wearing a hint of Will's color. On a more minor note, the return of the black jeans and converse from his Hawkins/Hellfire outfit means that the facade had dropped and he's slipping back into what he's more comfortable in.

It's also notable that Mike wears a blue plaid shirt the very next day after Will wears a blue plaid shirt. (Also, Will's blue plaid shirt has more white, which suits his wardrobe more than black, whereas Mike's blue plaid shirt has more black, which suits Mike's.)

And this is the shirt Mike wears during his fight with Eleven, where she calls him out on never saying, "I love you," accuses him of thinking she's a monster, and he calls her ridiculous and tries to place the burden of their relationship issues on other people ("You can't let those mouthbreathers ruin you! Ruin us!")

Visually, the plaid tells us what's going on in Mike's head and heart.

Mike's Plaid Outfit represents his internal conflict between Will and El while simultaneously betraying where his true feelings lie: with Will.

4.

Last outfit! The outfit he spends nearly a full week wearing, the teal outfit.

Right off the bat, this color is one we've seen him wearing before in s3. However, as @hawkinsschoolcounselor points out in this brilliant post, the teal polo he wears in s3 looks nearly identical to one his father wears in the same season.

This has a few nuanced implications.

Firstly, in s3, it carries the visual implication that s3 Mike is currently on a path that could cause him to turn out like Ted. What does s3 Mike do? He neglects his friendships to spend time making out with his girlfriend, tries to reject his childhood hobbies and passions as childish (Ted disdainfully calls toys "hunks of plastic," in s2) and something he needs to grow out of, and, like Ted, makes a comment that could be interpreted as a homophobic slight – ("It's not my fault you don't like girls!" – a comment that I believe is a moment of projection for Mike due to internalized homophobia, not legitimate homophobia toward Will. In s3, Mike is trying to be "normal," "grown-up," socially acceptable and heteronormative.

Remember how I talked about modeling earlier? Yeah, s3 Mike models after Ted in mild aspects.

Yet the very next season, it's revealed that his rejection of his hobbies, passions, and games like DND was a complete farce. He returns to wholly embracing DND and, other than this teal color, stops dressing like Ted. He stops modeling after his father, much to Ted's disappointment: "Might as well call [Hellfire] the high school dropout club."

Secondly, because this teal color ties Mike to Ted, it's notable that this is the color that Mike wears when he tells Eleven he loves her.

(Now if you've read this far, my guess is you're a Byler fan and you've read 50 million analyses of the I love you speech, but if you haven't, the gist of the conclusion of those analyses is this: Mike felt pressured to say he loved El in order to save her and because he believed she commissioned the painting, but he tells provable lies during it that will be dismantled in s5.)

If teal is a color Mike wore during a season where he's modeling after Ted, a husband who the show makes very clear is lacking in passion to the point of his wife feeling unsatsified, a father emotionally distant from his two eldest children, and a man who is the epitome of heteronormativity and the typical mundane nuclear family man – this does not bode well for the success of Mike's romantic relationship with El, nor does it frame his romantic relationship with El in a healthy light.

Thirdly, there are several key differences between s4's teal shirt and s3's teal shirt.

Mike's s3 teal shirt is buttoned-up to the top button (in most of his scenes wearing this shirt) and is tucked into higher-waisted black shorts. It's solid-colored, neat, and preppy, and gives two hilariously contrasting impressions: the outfit of a little boy, and the outfit of a tween trying to dress like an adult.

In s4, however, Mike's outfit is partially unbuttoned, revealing a white tshirt beneath, with gives it a more sporty or even outdoorsy vibe. It's also not a solid color and has angular grey accents – particularly, triangular and diamond shaped accents.

This is what Amy Parris has to say about those grey accents, + what she says about how they purposefully added triangles to Robin's outfit as LGBTQ+ symbolism:

Because of this, it is not a stretch to speculate that the angular accents and, in particular, triangle design on Mike's breast pocket is a nod to his queercoding.

It's no coincidence that this is the shirt Mike wears during his bedroom talks with Will, the van scene with Will, his interrupted pizza parlor talk with El (that reads more like an impending apology and amicable breakup, not a confession – just mute the music look at his face during that scene, and El's), and his speech to El.

Most notably, it's the shirt he's wearing during this moment:

Look at Mike's face. Look at how conflicted he is. How guilty. This is the first time since Mike put on this teal shirt, the first time since he had his two separate bedroom talks with Will, the first time since "as a team," and "best friends," and the van scene & painting, that Mike has to deal with Will and Eleven at the same time.

Mike's Teal Outfit represents the tug-of-war between two contrasting concepts: his internal struggle with practicing comphet and heteronormativity (pursuing a romantic relationship with El and pretending to be straight), and his growing internal resistance to comphet/hetnorm and desire to embrace a truer, more alternative/noncomforming identity (his true romantic feelings for Will and accepting his queer identity).

Conclusion

I could honestly continue this post with analysis of the s5 outfits we've seen from Mike and what that means for his characterization/arc in the final season, but this post is long enough already. Perhaps when we get more content/trailers for s5, I might put out a speculative post in anticipation for it.

If you have a different perspective and want to share it, feel absolutely free! I'd love to hear other people's thoughts.

[gyubakeries]

❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 6: christmas games | j.ww

a/n: hi! welcome to day 6!! hope you're liking all the fics so far 💗 this was inspired by the ideas of sousy and kyii from mansae network! i owe them a lot in terms of inspo 🤭

word count: 925 contents: wonwoo x gn!reader , established relationship , gamer bf!wonwoo , they play dress to impress , snowball fight , wonwoo has shitty fashion sense , christmas fun , fluff

"this is boring," you yawn, your body dramatically slumping all over the bed. "wonu, when's this getting over?"

wonwoo glances at you from the corner of his eye, his lips lifting up in a small smile when he sees you collapsed on the bed like a starfish. "just one more round, babe."

"you've been saying that for the last three rounds!" you whine. it was a cold, snowy winter day, and wonwoo was hunched in front of his gaming set-up, playing LoL instead of cuddling you.

"alright, last round, i promise," wonwoo says genuinely, and you watch as the game continues on the screen, wonwoo's fingers flying across the keyboard and deft hands moving the mouse with skill. he mutters curses under his breath some times, but you can't even understand why, because the game had always been to confusing for you to understand.

finally, the round finishes and wonwoo is quick to toss his headset off and join you on the bed, a triumphant smile gracing his lips. he pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head.

"did you win?" you ask him, noting how happy he looks, and he shakes his head. "i lost. i'm just happy i get to cuddle you now."

you laugh at how silly he is, before looking up at him again. "what kind of game even is LoL? like, what's the end result?"

"baby, i've explained it to you before," wonwoo reminds you. "i know!" you agree. "but it still doesn't make sense to me."

"what games do you play then?" he asks you, and you're struck with an idea.

"let's play dress to impress."

"dress to what?" wonwoo repeats, confused.

"just load up roblox on your computer. i'll use my phone," you instruct him, and your determined face makes him get up from bed and open roblox on his computer.

"search up dress to impress, i'm waiting for you," you instruct further, and wonwoo turns to find your phone already pulled out and the game loaded up.

is that really you? his partner who claims they don't play video games?

laughing amusedly to himself, he joins the game and quickly spots your roblox avatar.

"baby, how do i play this?" wonwoo asks. he's seeing all the other avatars running around and putting on clothes, but his own is just a blank grey mannequin with no face or hair.

"i'll guide you through this round, okay?" you say, repeating his words whenever you try to learn how to play one of his complicated video games.

you show wonwoo how to change the skin color, hairstyle, facial features, how to get clothes and accessories and edit them in different colors, and even how to get a manicure done.

wonwoo is thoroughly confused.

but his gamer pride won't let him admit that he's understood nothing of this game, so when the current round ends, he doesn't back down when you challenge him.

"okay, next round, whoever gets a higher ranking gets to hit the loser with snowballs for ten minutes," you smirk at him, noticing his 'confused cat' expression.

"alright, get ready to lose," wonwoo retorts, although his hesitant posture contradicts his words.

the next round starts, and the theme is coincidentally 'christmas dinner.'

wonwoo sees your avatar running around, dressing up according to the theme, but he himself is slow to move, still a little unsure with the controls of the game.

and unsurprisingly enough, wonwoo loses the round.

"ha! see? there is a game i'm better at than you are," you tease him, jumping around in victory. wonwoo can only sigh in defeat, dreading the consequences of his loss.

"let's go jeon wonwoo, i promised to beat you up with snowballs."

—

"not the face!" wonwoo all but shrieks when a giant snowball hits him in the face. he wipes the snow away from his glasses and rubs his gloved hands over his face vigorously to keep it from freezing.

the two of you are in your backyard, bundled up in thick jackets, scarves, caps, and gloves, and you've just started your snowball attack on wonwoo.

"sorry," you wince, going over to him and making sure he isn't hurt. "you know my aim is terrible."

"yeah, you can't hit the target even if it's two feet away from you," wonwoo grumbles, his red nose and ears making it hard for him to look serious.

"hey! i may not be good at LoL, but i'm good at other games!" you defend yourself. "that's why we're out here, remember?"

"well, maybe i should give you a lesson on aiming before you give me my punishment, hm?" an evil smirk crosses wonwoo's features, and before you can even process it, wonwoo is bending down to gather some snow in his hands.

"wonwoo, baby, darling, we don't have to do this," you stretch your arms out in front of you, slowly backing away.

"maybe we do," he shrugs, cupping the snow to make it ball-shaped.

"but you love me," you pout, pulling your best puppy eyes. "you wouldn't attack me, right?"

wrong.

the snowball hits you in the chest, and you gasp dramatically.

"oh, so you want to fight now?" you raise an eyebrow at him, taking a defensive stance. "you're on."

(wonwoo doesn't know why he spends so much time on that gaming set-up, playing video games, when he has the most fun whenever you're around.

even a hundred snowballs in his face wouldn't get him mad at you; he'll just throw a hundred back at you.)

-fin.

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[whizzing-fizzbee]

The Pact

Sebastian Sallow x Female reader (MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: friends to lovers, marriage pact, unspoken feelings, fluff, smut Word count: 6,429 Summary: You and your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, made a pact on your 18th birthday: the two of you would get married if you were both single at age 25. Now it's your 25th birthday and neither of you have a spouse.

Notes: Would like to note that under no circumstances do I believe that anyone living in the modern age of 2024 should have a marriage pact at age 25. But times and life expectancies were different back in the good ol' Hogwarts Legacy days, which is why I chose 25 for these two.

Part I is fluffy. Part II gets smutty. Both are on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: The Pact

Sebastian Sallow glanced at his pocket watch. It was five after 7 p.m., and it wasn’t like you to be late. Most times, you were annoyingly punctual, if not fifteen minutes early.

Sebastian exhaled slowly and audibly, fidgeting in his seat as his eyes scanned the view outside the window for your familiar face. His fingers drummed anxiously atop the white tablecloth.

The bistro was a bit fancier than he preferred, but he wanted to do something nice for you. For all you cared, the two of you would eat cold sandwiches from a picnic basket somewhere quiet and secluded, but you agreed to meet him here for a change of pace. After all, it was a special occasion. It was your 25th birthday.

Your mirror was the reason you were late. You couldn’t tear yourself away from it, your gaze scrutinizing every miniscule detail of your reflection. Was your makeup too much? Was your hairstyle too simple? Did the dress you picked suit you? Were you trying too hard? Would Sebastian even notice?

Realizing you were going to be late, you took a deep breath, willing the air to somehow inflate your nerves and give you the confidence to survive the evening.

When you arrived at the restaurant an uncharacteristic twelve minutes late, you found Sebastian seated by the window, rifling through the day’s Daily Prophet.

“There you are,” you said cheerily, hoping your makeup hadn’t smeared and your hair was still in place after your apparition. It was a common greeting between the two of you, dating back to your Hogwarts days.

“There you are,” Sebastian replied per usual, folding the crinkled newspaper as he met your gaze. You could feel it sweeping over you as he took in your appearance. “You look stunning.”

Suddenly, you felt foolish for wearing blush. Sebastian’s compliments were more than enough to bring a tinge of rosy color to your cheeks.

“You look nice, too,” you answered as you eyed his outfit. Sebastian had become a sharp dresser over the years. Tonight, he wore a sleek pair of trousers that matched his vest, buttoned over a fresh white shirt and tie, though his hair maintained its signature tousled look.

Nice was the understatement of the century. Sebastian looked positively, devilishly handsome. Of course, he could wear a burlap sack and you’d find him attractive. You’d been a sucker for that boy’s freckles and brown eyes since you were fifteen.

But Sebastian’s boyish features faded a few years ago, his once round face morphing into a man’s. It had sharpened, becoming more defined with stubble that surfaced over his jawline if it went too long without a razorblade. He was clean-shaven tonight, though. You could smell his aftershave, an indication he had shaved just for you, or so you wanted to believe.

“Here, sit,” he said, rising to his feet to pull your chair out. He loomed over you now, his frame having reached at least six feet years ago.

You smoothed your dress out as you sat and Sebastian returned to his own chair, brandishing a bouquet of flowers he had brought for you. 

“For you,” he said simply.

You smiled at the vibrant bouquet, pausing to smell it before placing it delicately on the table.

“Thank you,” you said, offering him a smile. He gazed at you quietly for a split second and it made you want to squirm in your seat.

Instead, you shot him an inquisitive look, challenging him to speak, and in return, he flashed his signature smirk.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretching beneath the table and his eyes still lingering on you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you said, crossing and uncrossing your legs. You shifted, tucking one leg behind the other as you willed yourself to remain poised.

You wondered if he was going to broach the subject, the topic that loomed over both of your heads. You hadn’t spoken of it in five years, and you weren’t certain Sebastian even remembered.

But you thought of it constantly, its weight omnipresent in your life and your choices, nagging every “What if?” in the back of your mind.

It began when you turned eighteen. You and Sebastian spent your birthday getting piss-drunk at the Three Broomsticks with a few of your friends. Once everyone else had returned to Hogwarts for the night, you and Sebastian remained seated at a tiny table by the pub’s fireplace, your drunken antics leaving you warm and giggly.

“I can’t believe we’re adults now,” you marveled after you lost count of how many shots of firewhiskey you had consumed.  

“Eighteen with our futures ahead of us and the world at our hands,” Sebastian declared dramatically, raising his glass to you. Before you could toast, he tipped back the drink and grinned at you.

“The future is so daunting,” you said, your tone turning serious as the liquor started to stir up your insecurities. “What if I can’t find a job, Seb?”

“You’ve had the Ministry eyeing you for its auror academy for months now,” Sebastian said. “You’re a shoo-in to become the best damn auror the wizarding world has ever seen.”

“But what if I’m no good at it?”

“You’re joking, right?” Sebastian snorted. “You literally saved wizardkind from a goblin rebellion. You take down poachers and Ashwinders on a regular basis. Plus you manage to keep Leander Prewett at bay, despite all of his abhorrent advances.”

“What if I don’t find someone who’ll want to marry me?”

“Then I suppose Prewett will have to do.”

“Sebastian!”

“Relax, I was only joking,” Sebastian chuckled. “What makes you think no one will marry you? You have half the boys in our year positively drooling over you and tripping over their own feet for your attention. And besides, you don’t need to get married to have a fulfilling life. You’re incredible on your own.”

“But I want to share my life with someone.”

Sebastian blinked at you. “I didn’t realize you were such a hopeless romantic,” he mused.

You shrugged, your eyes glassy from your drunken haze. “I just think love could be a beautiful thing, you know? And what about a family? I want a family of my own.”

Sebastian hummed in agreement, falling uncommonly quiet. “You’ll find love,” he finally said, his gaze resting beyond you, at something that didn’t exist over your shoulder. 

“But what if I don’t?” you whined, the alcohol replacing your usual composed demeanor with something far less sophisticated.

“You will,” Sebastian said confidently, his gaze returning to you with amusement. He studied you, his smirk softening as he recognized the concern in your eyes. “Tell you what,” he continued, leaning forward to emphasize his seriousness. “How about you and I make a pact? If neither of us is married by the time we’re both 25, we’ll get married to each other.”

It was your turn to blink at him as you processed his proposal. It wasn’t quite the marriage proposal you wanted from him, but it was likely the closest you’d get, at least from Sebastian.

“Really?” you asked stupidly.

“Sure,” Sebastian answered assuredly. “Why not? I doubt it’ll come to fruition considering what I said about all the potential suitors you already have, but it’d be good to have a back-up plan just in case. And despite your best dramatics, I know you don’t despise me as much as you pretend. Growing old with me wouldn’t be that bad, would it?”

Of course it wouldn’t. It was all you really wanted. But you didn’t want to be Sebastian’s back-up plan. You wanted to be his first and foremost plan, his top choice, his only consideration for a wife. 

But you didn’t dare share that detail with him. He was your best friend, your confidant, your kindred spirit. The two of you had been through so much together; the trauma, the laughs, the adventure – it was too much history to risk with romance. 

So instead of making any romantic proclamations, you kept your cool and merely shrugged. “All right,” you agreed. “You and I, married after 25.”

The two of you shook hands and laughed about the frivolity of your new vow. After that night, you only brought it up a few times on rare occasion, like on your birthday or after one of you endured a particularly nasty breakup with a romantic partner.

”Well, I suppose there’s always our pact,” Sebastian once told you after you and Amit Thakkar broke up the summer after you graduated Hogwarts. You sighed that time, saddened by your failed relationship, yet hopeful for the notion that you and Sebastian could still someday end up together.

But that was just a silly, drunken agreement with no real weight to it, right?

The last time the pact had been mentioned was your 20th birthday, which was dampened by another breakup, this time with a man named Maximilian Flint. He was a professional quidditch player on the Appleby Arrows’ reserve team roster. 

The two of you met at a Christmas party and hit it off, but distance quickly made it clear that you weren’t meant to last. You were living in London, traveling on occasion for work. Maximilian, Max as you called him, was always traveling with the team. So your relationship was short-lived, leaving Sebastian to remind you of your agreement again. But that was the final time he brought it up.  

Meanwhile, Sebastian seemed unbothered by expectations of marriage. You watched as he kept his connections much more casual, dating different women with no real romantic intent. You couldn’t help but wonder if Sebastian simply had no desire to ever get married, making your pact void of any real potential.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t had any more suitors since then. Adulthood had served you well, your body filling out nicely in your early twenties. You certainly weren’t starved for attention from men and had your fair share of dates, but even the most charming bachelors fell short.

It wasn’t them, it was you. Or maybe it was Sebastian.

Every time you found yourself in the arms of a new man, a potential husband who would be willing to love and care for you, your mind wandered to that stupid pact. You couldn’t help but romanticize it as if it were reality — you and Sebastian, happily ever after. Your daydreams drew you downward to dangerous depths where you envisioned a cozy home the two of you shared. He’d help you cook dinner before you both tucked your children in bed so that you could enjoy each other’s company privately.

It was a maddening fantasy that had managed to sabotage all of your romantic prospects, but you couldn’t help it. No man compared to Sebastian, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself otherwise, and no matter how often you reminded yourself that the two of you were merely meant to be best friends.

Now, the two of you were seated at that bistro table five years later, still without spouses.

”You didn’t have to take me to such a nice place,” you said as a waiter served you champagne.

Sebastian flashed a grin and raised his glass to you, igniting a sense of deja vu that pulled you back to that night at the Three Broomsticks seven years ago. 

“It’s not everyday my favorite person turns 25,” he noted. You clinked your glass against his and drank, savoring the champagne’s sweetness. You wondered how much of it you could have before you were drunk enough to forget about the stupid pact. The answer, sadly, was unsurmountable.

Instead, you did your best to enjoy your meal and Sebastian’s company. You swapped work stories, Sebastian telling you of his latest curse breaking endeavors while you recounted a recent arrest during your work as an auror. 

When you thought your dinner was complete, Sebastian sat back and smirked over your shoulder. You frowned, turning to see what had stolen his attention when you spotted your waiter approaching with a small birthday cake.

”Sebastian,” you hissed as the cake was placed in front of you, its frosted letters spelling out Happy Birthday in purple cursive. “You didn’t need to do that.”

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Sebastian said, leaning over the table with his fork to steal a bite of cake. “You deserve a nice birthday.”

You smiled at him before taking a bite, enjoying the cake's sweetness until you noticed Sebastian watching you.

”You have icing on your lip,” he noted with a smirk.

Before you could reach for the napkin in your lap, Sebastian was reaching across the table again. He swiped at the rogue icing with his thumb before he relaxed back into his seat, licking his thumb clean.

You had to sit on your hands to keep from fidgeting too much.

Once Sebastian paid the bill, he became quiet, his eyes drifting toward the window as the two of you watched the passerby in comfortable silence. A young couple passed, holding hands and laughing, a sight that made you long for your own companionship.

It was sitting three feet away from you, but you didn’t realize how it was sneaking glances at you.

”So,” Sebastian finally said as he tossed his napkin on the table. “Ready for our next stop?”

”Next stop?” you repeated blankly.

Sebastian rose to his feet, his tall frame drawing the attention of other women in the room. You wanted to throw the remnants of your water goblet on them, but Sebastian extended a hand to you.

”Yes, doll, our next stop,” he said as you stood. His eyes gleamed and you prayed you wouldn’t lose your composure — not now, not when you’d nearly made it through the night. Or so you thought.

”Seb, you don’t have to-”

”Nothing but best for my lady.”

You were certain you were going to pass out right there in the middle of that quaint bistro. Instead, Sebastian led you outside into the cool night air.

”And just where are you taking me?” you demanded. “If we’re heading to your flat, I hope you took care of that niffler in the closet-”

”Eager to head back to my place already?” Sebastian teased.

You tripped over your own feet. Luckily, Sebastian still had a hold on you. He failed to conceal a laugh as he steadied you, clearly enjoying your frazzled state.

”If you must know,” Sebastian continued as he steered you toward a vacant ally, “We’re off to the Three Broomsticks.”

”The Three Broomsticks?” you laughed. “Why? We haven’t been there in years. We aren’t students anymore.”

Sebastian took hold of your arm and offered a grin. “Just thought we’d head there for old time’s sake. I’m feeling rather nostalgic tonight, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t decide if the lurch in your stomach was from your nerves or from Sebastian’s apparition. 

When you landed, the familiar smell of aged wood and butterbeer greeted you. 

“Come, sit,” Sebastian said with a gentle tug on your arm. You swallowed as you realized he was leading you to that same tiny table in the corner, near the fireplace. You took the same seat you’d held before, seven years ago, as Sebastian retreated to the bar to fetch your drinks. When he returned, he set a small glass down and grinned at you.

Firewhiskey.

”Sebastian,” you started as you eyed the liquid warily. “This is a bad idea.”

”Exactly.” You couldn’t help but snort as Sebastian lifted his own glass. “Cheers,” he continued as you clinked your glasses for the second time that night. “To old times and to our future.”

You nearly choked at his words. Our future? Was he referring to your pact? 

You downed your drink swiftly and made a face, evoking another laugh from Sebastian. He took the stool across from you and grinned.

”Are you trying to get me drunk again?” you accused.

”Of course not,” Sebastian answered. “I’m merely recreating old memories. Though you were certainly capable of drinking more back when you turned 18.”

“I had far fewer responsibilities when I was 18,” you pointed out. Sebastian hummed in response before another silence settled between you.

You wanted to bring it up. You wanted to mention it, even if it was just in jest. ‘Hey, remember that ridiculous pact we made?’ you could laugh. But instead, you remained quiet, the low hum of the conversations of other patrons inside the pub filling the space between you and Sebastian.

”So, how’s it feel being 25?” Sebastian finally asked. There was something about his gaze that unsettled you. He wasn’t looking at you with his trademark smirk or the glint of mischief that typically hid in his eyes, only detectable by those who really knew him.

“It feels… exactly the same as 24,” you laughed.

Sebastian nodded in understanding. “It’s rather anticlimactic, isn’t it?” he mused.

”That, it is.”

Sebastian smiled but you couldn't help but narrow your eyes at him. “If 25 feels the same as any other year, why have you gone out of your way to make tonight special for me?” you asked.

Sebastian shrugged, the gleam of the nearby fireplace flickering over his features. “Because your 25 is special,” he answered. “Now we’re both 25.”

You couldn’t form words. Your usual sharp wit and clever quips had abandoned you. Sebastian eyed you patiently, as if you contained some kind of answer to a riddle.

”Do you remember?” Sebastian continued. “The pact we made when we were 18?”

You were certain he could hear the way your heart seemed to be pounding in your skull, rattling your brain and leaving you void of any coherence.

”I do,” you managed.

”Well, we’re both 25 now.”

”We are.”

Sebastian was still studying you with patience, a jarring contrast from his usual unrest.

”Well, do you think you want to go through with it — the pact?”

”Huh?” You had never sounded so stupid in your life and it was starting to scare you. Sebastian also seemed slightly alarmed by your sudden stupor, because he leaned in closer.

”Look,” he said, his eyes searching you with a quiet desperation to be taken seriously. “I know it was just a stupid thing we said when we were young and drunk. But that doesn’t mean that it was irrelevant, at least not to me. I actually meant it. The offer still stands.” He paused to study your expression, as if to ensure you weren’t laughing at him or appalled by the topic. “But I also understand if you weren’t serious about it. It’s not like you don’t have a line of dates waiting to take you out, if you even want to be married, that is.”

”And what about you?” you managed, your voice much pitchier than usual. “You bring a different girl home every week.”

Sebastian appeared taken aback by such a harsh accusation. “Every week is quite an exaggeration,” he mumbled, his gaze falling to the tabletop as if he were ashamed. It made you feel horrible for passing judgment on your best friend. “But you’re right, I haven’t had many serious relationships. I guess I haven’t wanted any.”

”But you want to get married?” you asked incredulously.

”You didn’t let me finish,” Sebastian replied gently. His eyes drifted upward again to meet yours, softening your own gaze. “I haven’t wanted any serious relationships beyond the one I have with you.”

”But we’re-”

”Friends, I know,” Sebastian finished. “But I don’t want that to be the case. I want more.”

His words seemed to linger in the air above you, their weight threatening to crush you with a pastiche of emotions. They hovered, waiting for your response while Sebastian held his breath.

“How long have you wanted to be more than friends?” you finally asked. You silently scolded yourself for asking such a mundane question when you should be yanking Sebastian by the tie into the best kiss of his life.

“Since the day we became friends,” he answered.

The impact of his honesty made you inhale sharply, but the air didn’t seem to reach your lungs. 

”All this time?”

”Of course.”

Your head spun with a thousand more questions, each one overtaking the next as you tried to make sense of Sebastian’s confession. You couldn’t decide which emotion was the most prominent — the surprise, the elation, or the anger that the two of you had withheld yourselves from each other all along.

”Why did you make that pact then?” you finally asked. “Why didn’t you just tell me, then and there, that night seven years ago?”

”Because your future was just beginning,” Sebastian answered. “You had so much life to explore and I was just the moron who made a mess of what little family he had left. I was still figuring things out, and even though I knew I loved you, I didn’t think it was fair to hold you back from the life you deserved.”

“I deserved the truth, Sebastian,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a juxtaposition of hurt and happy. “I deserved to spend the past seven years with someone who made me happy.”

The revelation settled over Sebastian, who became still. He looked dumbfounded, and if you weren’t about to spill your best-kept secret, you probably would have teased him.

“You mean you actually wanted to be with me?”

”Don’t be so dense,” you breathed with a soft laugh. “Of course I did. Sebastian, you’ve met some of the men I’ve dated. None of them are like you.”

”I thought that was by design.”

”As utterly exhausting as you are, you’re the only person I’ve ever deemed worth my time and energy,” you said. “I wouldn’t have agreed to that stupid pact if I’d known it wasn’t the only chance I’d have at being with you.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to sort through his racing thoughts, but you were growing impatient. You didn’t even realize you were standing now, anxious to find out where the rest of your life was now headed, now that you and the only man you’d ever loved had just admitted you wasted the past ten years pining after one another.

”So all this time, we could have… just been together?” Sebastian said.

”Apparently.”

”Are we stupid?”

”Apparently. Did you plan this evening with hopes I’d agree to carry out the pact?” you asked.

”I mean, I thought there might be a chance,” Sebastian admitted. “I was fully prepared to make a case for myself.”

It was the tipping point. The strange scene, nostalgic yet new, would become the pivotal moment in your timeline when Sebastian Sallow would no longer be your best friend. It was exhilarating and terrifying, comforting and confusing, a perfect reflection of who you and Sebastian were as humans and as a pair.

Sebastian was still looking stunned as you finally came to your senses. 

“So can we continue to our next stop?” you asked.

Sebastian was confused, but rose to his feet when he realized you were preparing to leave the pub. “Next stop? Where’s that?”

”Depends,” you answered. “Did you get that niffler out of your flat?”

Part II: The Vow

The floating candles were fading, the last remaining drips of wax fighting to keep their flames alive. The music dipped to a low hum as the live band prepared to end its performance for the night.

The remaining guests bid their farewells with cheerful laughter and hugs, offering well wishes to you and your groom while you watched them leave with sadness.

You didn’t want the night to end — or so you thought.

But your sad goodbyes were quickly replaced with anticipation as you could feel your husband snaking his arms around your waist.

Your husband. The very word made you swell with pride. You waited over ten years for this moment and couldn’t believe it was a reality. Ten years of patiently waiting for that freckled brown-eyed boy to realize how much you loved him. Ten years of putting up with his chaos, of keeping his darkest secrets, all because you saw beyond his mistakes. Ten years of hoping and praying that boy would turn into a man who would return the unconditional love you carried for him since the day you dueled in Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Ten years of waiting on Sebastian Sallow to kindly remove his head from the sand and make you his wife.

Mission accomplished.

”That’s everyone,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. “The last of the guests. Just you and me now.”

”Thank heavens,” you hissed, wincing as you shifted your weight. “These shoes are killing me.”

”Let’s get you home so you can take them off,” Sebastian mumbled against the back of your neck, his lips pressing a series of kisses there. “That dress needs to come off, too.”

The wedding had been perfect. It was a beautiful garden display with your closest friends and family, all who sighed in relief that the the two people involved had finally squashed their stubborn resistance and ended up together.

”I was really starting to get worried you were going to end up with that bloke from the Ministry,” Ominis Gaunt told you. “The one with the hideous outfits.”

”And I was worried Sebastian was going to be a bachelor forever,” Anne Sallow added. “If I can’t have kids of my own, I’d at least like to be an aunt.”

Ten months ago, you and Sebastian finally figured it out. The two of you had spent the ten years you’d known each other waiting on the other person to say something, anything, to ensure that the feelings weren’t one-sided. 

That stupid marriage-after-25 pact you made was upheld though, even if it had become less of a pact and more of an absolution as a result of a decade of unspoken words and mutual pining.

”Finally,” Sebastian declared once he’d apparated the two of you home to your shared townhouse in London.

Though you had wasted ten years waiting on another to begin your relationship, you and Sebastian wasted no time in consummating your marriage.

Actually, you’d spent the past ten months making up for lost time and, “It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten pregnant yet,” as Anne so bluntly stated.

This night was no different.

Sebastian hooked an arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss, his hands roaming from your sides to reach for the back of your dress.

”You looked beautiful tonight,” he told you for the hundredth time. You knew his words were sincere though, given the way Sebastian’s eyes had devoured you the entire evening, waiting impatiently to see beneath the dress you had only picked knowing damn well he’d be dying to remove it.

A sharp tug at the ribbons of the corset that laced up the back of your dress loosened the bodice, causing you to spill from it, exposing your bare chest.

Sebastian flashed his canines. 

He kissed you hard, his hands tugging the dress downward in frenzied motions until you could step out of it, leaving the beautiful garment in a heap. Those frantic hands found their way back to your waist, tracing the curves that led upward to your breasts.

Your breath caught as Sebastian kissed your neck, his own breath hot against your skin, trailing along your collarbone in a desperate attempt to put his mouth on every inch of you that he could manage.

Sebastian was far too overdressed for your liking, so you tugged at his tie, pulling him in to meet your lips before you helped him loosen the fabric. By the time the silky accessory slipped to the floor, you were working on the buttons at the front of Sebastian’s shirt, thoroughly annoyed that there seemed to be so damn many of them.

Three buttons in, you huffed your aggravation and Sebastian barked a laugh. “Go on, love,” he said. “It’s just a shirt.”

You weren’t seeking his permission, but his blessing was all the encouragement you needed to tear the shirt open. Its buttons popped and sailed across the room, scattering over the floor to be fetched another day.

Sebastian’s shirt sank to the floor and you practically dove for his belt buckle while he gazed downward in pure elation stoked by your eager actions. You didn’t care. Now was not the time for poise and composure. You’d spent the entire day indulging propriety, performing your part as the perfect blushing bride.

Now, you were ready for your role as Sebastian’s real wife.

You removed his belt swiftly, his suit trousers soon joining the rest of his clothes on the floor until your own panties were the only article of clothing between you.

Sebastian took it upon himself to remove them, hooking his thumbs into the sides to tug you closer for another kiss. His tongue hinted at the things he wanted to do to you as it pushed past the threshold of your lips, his thumbs working your panties downward until they fluttered to the floor.

“You’re a fucking vision,” Sebastian breathed, his fingers reaching between your thighs to drag over your folds. 

You sighed as his fingers worked at the tension that had mounted in your core, and ground your hips impatiently against Sebastian’s palm, which was pressed against your clit. 

“So tense, you are,” Sebastian mewed, removing his hand from your body to gently suck on his fingers.

Before you could form a response, he scooped you up to carry you to the bedroom. You squealed as one arm supported your back, the other supporting your weight beneath your thighs. He smirked at you as he felt the slickness that had settled between them.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Sebastian groaned as he entered your bedroom. He tossed you on the bed and loomed over you as he decided which sinful act he wanted to perform first.

He licked his lips and reached for your ankles, tugging you toward the edge of the bed. 

“Can’t wait to see if you taste even better as my bride,” he said as he settled between your knees. He planted a trail of kisses up your thighs, over your hip bones to your bellybutton, invoking a pitiful whimper from you.

You could feel him smirk against your skin, undoubtedly planning how he could use his tongue to orchestrate your demise.    Sebastian hooked his arms around your legs, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he prepared himself to feast on you.

A sharp inhale passed through your lips the moment his mouth made contact with you, his tongue gliding over your folds.

”Shit,” you heard him hiss. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

His tongue darted patterns across you, dragging deep sensations below your skin. Your fingers tangled tighter in his hair as you willed your body to produce the response you were both working for.

Sebastian grunted, a telltale sign that his own needs were making him impatient. His cock stirred and he couldn’t help but grip himself as he continued to taste you.

”Oh god,” you groaned as you could feel the familiar sensation of a climax surfacing. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Sebastian would have to be hit with an Unforgivable Curse before he dared to stop. Instead, his fingertips pressed into your thighs as his tongue applied more pressure, maintaining the pace he knew you liked.

The reward of his sinful act surged forth, your body rippling with pleasure as you moaned, your fingernails digging into Sebastian’s skull at the peak of your orgasm. When it subsided, Sebastian left you panting as he straightened up, one hand still supporting his shaft.

He smirked downward at you as he admired the aftermath of his work. He always did this after such an act, his gaze gleaming with pride, lips wet, his tousled hair making him the epitome of sin incarnate.

Most times after Sebastian’s tongue had worked you into a breathless, fucked out frenzy, he was ready to seal the deal and take you until he was finished himself. Other times, you were eager to return the favor and he’d allow it if he felt he had the willpower.

So as he stood over you, his eyes drinking in the erotic vision that was his wife in a post-orgasm haze, you rolled yourself over to lie on your stomach, facing him so that he could bring himself to your waiting mouth.

You reached for him and he hissed as your fingers enclosed around him, a thumb tracing gentle circles around his tip. He twitched slightly, the sensation forcing a grunt from him.

You smirked, your eyes raised upward as they met his while you took him in your mouth, the velvet of his skin gliding against your lips.

”Fuck, I love you,” Sebastian breathed. You hummed in response, the vibration from your lips drawing a groan from Sebastian. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said as your head bobbed, your cheeks sucked inward tightly around his shaft.

His eyes roamed your form, presented in such a pretty way for him, laid out so that he could see your backside. He reached for you, gently squeezing as you focused on using your mouth.

Sebastian’s tip hit the back of your throat and he groaned at the sensation of the soft flesh. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, but he silently thanked every higher power for forgiving his past sins enough to present him with you.

”Come here,” he suddenly growled, pulling his cock from your mouth. You whined in protest but knew you were in for the ultimate honor.

Sebastian had you by the legs and rolled you to your back again, pulling you toward the edge of the bed once more. This time, he stood between your thighs, his bedroom eyes dark with desire as he held his cock in one hand, ready to take you.

When he guided himself inside you, you moaned until he was fully engulfed. Sebastian clenched his jaw at the sensation, unsure how long he would last thanks to the wetness that was already pooling around him. But he had told himself that morning, before he got to watch you saunter down the aisle to him, that he was going to do everything in his power to make you happy. And that included satiating your every need in the bedroom, until your legs shook and your voice became hoarse.

Sebastian made a silent vow to get at least two more good orgasms out of you tonight. You deserved it. You were his wife.

The room filled with the sounds of Sebastian’s body slapping against yours, a rhythmic beat punctuated with your occasional moans. Sebastian leaned forward to leave kisses on your neck, one hand cupping your breast as the other supported his weight.

”Going to come for me?” he panted.

”Yes,” you breathed. You used your own legs to lift your hips, meeting Sebastian’s in a desperate act to ensure another orgasm.

It didn’t take long to achieve your goal. Sebastian had been here before. He was familiar with your wants and needs, the rhythms you liked and the way you secretly were turned on when he whispered absolute filth in your ear.

He fucked you harder, so hard that your cunt started to spasm before your lips could form his name. You cried out so loud you were certain the neighbors would come knocking, but Sebastian would hex them if they dared to interrupt.

The bedsheets became soaked beneath you, your gasps replacing the fervid sounds of sex as you caught your breath. Sebastian, still inside you, nuzzled your neck as he allowed you to recollect yourself.

Now, it was his turn. You knew that and you wanted it. So you sat up, indicating it was time to switch places. Sebastian obliged without a word, settling onto his back as you straddled him.

Though he’d seen you in this position countless times, Sebastian never failed to admire the sight. This time, he took extra care to savor the moment that was his absolute goddess of a wife mounted on top of him.

You held your breath as you slowly lowered your hips, impaling yourself on Sebastian. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he said through gritted teeth as your cunt swallowed his shaft until your full weight had him completely inside you.

You rocked slightly, seeking the familiar friction and angle you knew would privilege you with a third orgasm if Sebastian could hold out that long. Lifting your hips and slamming back downward, you quickly found the spot, moaning Sebastian’s name to express your gratitude for his cock that seemed to be made with you in mind.

”You take me so fucking well,” Sebastian said as he watched you ride him, your hips lifting and bucking. His gaze flickered from your breasts to the spot where the two of you were connected, and he reached to press his thumb against your clit.

”Sebastian!” you wheezed as the sensation caught you off guard. You were met with a smirk, which you didn’t see because your eyes squeezed shut to focus on the absolute ecstasy forming within your core.

”You’re soaked,” you heard Sebastian say, but you chose to ignore him as you rocked backward, the tip of his cock pressing against the most sensitive part of you.

Heaven couldn’t help you in that moment, and Hell wouldn’t know what to do with you. You choked out a moan as your cunt contracted, desperate to milk out another orgasm. You could feel the tension teetering you right to the edge as your core tingled with warning.

”Fuck, Sebastian!” you gasped as you earned your final orgasm, your walls fluttering around your husband’s cock. A guttural moan escaped your lips as you rode it out, the contractions setting Sebastian’s own climax in motion.

”Fuck!” he grunted as he spilled himself inside you in quick bursts. His hands gripped your hips and his eyes were clamped shut as his body responded to the intensity. ”My god,” he managed when the feeling finally subsided, leaving you both panting.

Once you finally managed the energy to roll yourself off of him, you cuddled up to Sebastian, resting your head on his chest. Your exhaustion left you euphoric as the reality of your evening settled in. You were a wife now, and your husband was the one and only man you had ever wanted to spend these kinds of moments with.

Ten years had finally led you and Sebastian to this point, and you were so glad that stupid pact had been replaced by your vows.

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Chauffeur.

Yan Aventurine x F Reader.

Synopsis: Life has always made losers out of people like you. You dream even now that that could be changed. But can it really?

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, drugging, misogyny, abuse of power, and mentions of violence.

Word Count: 3.2k.

*~*~*~*

When thrust into a world filled with illusions of chance, one can only hope that change will soon arise.

The company, the appearances, the losers, the winners; nothing ever changes, not even the dreams that things will.

How you are treated is a gamble all on its own too, despite you wishing it were not so. Lady Luck has yet to smile upon you, but instead of gifting you with snake eyes, she gives you the utmost displeasure of being slapped, being threatened, or having your salary lowered. You sometimes wish she would just give you the lowest score on a physical die instead of an invisible one.

You wish she would have made you less appealing to unwanted stares, would have made you have a burned face that would scare off anyone as soon as they looked at you. Hell, even make you be an old woman begging for spare change. That would be a better existence than to live in this body, where you are forced to wave and smile and conceal the bruises and slap marks whenever they appear in a place not covered by your dress. Not that your dress covers anything.

You have three jobs in this casino. Your first one is to spin the wheel or make the letters visible after all the bets are placed and the speaker gives you the signal to do so. Your second one is to always look presentable, your boss’s definition of “best”. Appearances will bring in more onlookers, he said. Just get yourself all dolled up. Okay, toots?

You conform every time your clothes change in color, size, and pattern because after all, they could just replace you with someone more willing.

After all, you have your mouth to feed and your own back to clothe.

So, you endure not all of it, but most of it. You endure the times your assigned makeup artist has called you a whore for not letting him stay in your room during his breaks, the times the suited mascot of this place squeezed you a bit too tight when you were told to take a few photos with him. You pretend not to notice things like that, because if you start a conflict who knows what will happen?

The applause of onlookers is always paired up with lewd comments about your body instead of congratulations to the winner.

The heels you are paid to wear always manage to make you trip onto someone, or rely on some flirty stranger to help you walk to and fro. Your manager told you to grow your hair out when you first started working here, and when it finally reached the desired length he gave you very few options when it came to which hairstyle you wanted. If you remember correctly, it couldn’t have been more than four. All of them had curtain bangs and waves. There was even one, you think, that had something to do with bleaching.

You opted for the one that let you keep the most of your natural hair pattern, not that that was a lot. 

Your dresses always come with a slit to see one of your legs. Temptations bring in more dreams, and with dreams come people wanting to be big shots. That is what your boss said to you after you questioned your given work wardrobe. You did not want his glare and mocking laugh to be aimed at you any longer, so you nodded and went to change. He praised you for it later, but your brain protected itself by not remembering what he said.

All you can recall is the way you shuttered at him wrapping an arm around your bare shoulders,  a lit cigarette in his hand.

You don’t shutter as often anymore after he scowled and threatened to place it on your palm.

Your world is simpler than it was before when you were sleeping on the streets and given just barely enough to scrape by. You only have three jobs to do, but the third one holds the most importance. Sabotage the gamble. Never let them win unless they hold enough power that your boss permits you to stand back.

There have been very few instances of that happening, but they happen nonetheless. They are this casino’s equivalent of a blue moon. There are telltale signs before you are told of their status. Their clothes are always glittering like an invisible spotlight is on them. They always have guards, and people sticking to their arms like glue just itching for a taste. It is an even rarer sight to see one of them being chosen to be their partner for the night. You can tell when a person can buy you off with their proportion of pocket change. Not that anyone has, much to your gratitude.

This man is just like them. You can sense the ego dripping off of him, and can sense how much all those rings on his fingers cost.

This is the real deal. You can tell. That earring of his is probably worth twice that of all of your organs. That is being generous with the price you would most likely hold on the black market. In reality, perhaps thrice. That is not even going into his pink sunglasses, which have tiny gems stuck on the sides. 

He has a gun holster, you think, but the gun itself is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps one of his men is holding it for him. Perhaps.

From the corner of your eye, you see your boss amongst the crowd, nodding slowly at you. He is sitting in a booth a bit more distanced from the others, three women on either side of him. Every time he sits there, it is your first signal that something is surely going to happen. Good or bad. This time it is good, and you will end the night with nothing less than a few thousand credits for playing your part well. Last time it was bad, and you ended up having so much more than a simple slap on the wrist.

He has three dice between his pointer and middle fingers. One green, one teal, and one dark blue. They are each twelve-sided from what you can see, but the sigils remain unseen by you. Maybe for the best, you think, you don’t want him to take up as much memory space as he already has.

All you want is for this shift to be over, but with this unplanned patron skipping the line of gamblers to gamble himself, who knows how long until the dice stops rolling?

Your fellow staff members look happier, displaying genuine smiles on their faces. Not that you can blame them though, most of them are new hires because your boss tends to fire people on the daily.

“Hold on a sec, please. Madam, I would like to use my lucky charms before you spin the wheel. If you don’t mind, that is.” The man requests. It is not a sincere question, you note, because he clasps onto the dice in his palm so lightly like they are gravity-resistant.

Instead of looking at him, you look at your boss first. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you any longer with what looks like one of the women being straddled on his left thigh. Hmm. It’s your call then, you suppose. 

“Sure,” You answer, trying to put on your best polite grin. “Who am I to deny such an… experienced gambler?”

“Thank you for the praise,” He replies, his free arm bending as he scratches the back of his head. “But you… misunderstand, I am just a simple bettor, nothing more.”

The positioned desk with a microphone attached has just become this casino’s newest playing ground. Faster than you can blink, the dice are let out of his hand and roll. When they stop, you can hear cheers and praises, as if they are all meant for him. 

A spotlight is focused on him too, a color more dazzling than the brightest glittering gold.

“I’m going to choose the peach.”

You nod and spin the wheel, all of the colors blurring together, slowly but surely soon coming to a stop.

The pink area with the same peach is on the pointer, and the crowd all clap their hands and dance.

*~*~*~*

During your breaks, you are allowed to go to your recovery room to do whatever limited array of activities your bookshelf and dusty boxes under your bed had in store for you. The breaks are always nothing more than half an hour, but you earned the right to have your breaks’ minimal times be nothing less than ten minutes.

“I just… noticed you never play the games you so often assist, that’s all.” The blond stranger continues to follow as you speedily walk down the hallway to the backrooms. Little by little, the golden paint that coats the walls turns into a dull beige, a sure sign that your treasured little hiding place is near.

“I wish I could but right now I have my lunch break, sir.”

His speed is nowhere near diminishing, no, if anything it is getting more profound.

If you did not have unwanted company, if you did not have to worry about the security cameras in every corner of this part of the casino, if you did not have this job you hate to your very core, you would have torn the high heels off of your blistered feet.

But you cannot because you do have unwanted company, you do have to worry about the security cameras in every corner of this part of the casino, you do have this job you hate to your very core. So, the high heels stay on and make sounds with every step you take.

“Come on, Miss [First]. I know you want to.” You have been unable to get him off your back for the past ten minutes. Even when you attempted to walk around the less crowded parts of this casino in circles, he was there. “[First]. A lovely name, if I say so myself. [First], [First], [First].”

It takes everything in you not to frown or cross your arms. That could be considered rude, especially to someone as high standing as this man. “Utmost sincere apologies, sir, but I really-”

“Aventurine.” He interrupts. “It’s Aventurine, Miss. You don’t have to call me sir, you know. We’re alone here in this stank hallway. Without my money, I’m just like you, and I’m sure we can become great friends.”

“In my opinion, I believe that there are better people than me to form connections with, Mister Aventurine.” You try not to huff in frustration, but you could have sworn that one was let out.

In the distance, you see your recovery room, the number two on it turning off and on every few seconds.

It has always been that way. The only one who often gets renovations to their living quarters is your boss. The rest of you are nothing more than cow fodder to him, even his assistants.

“You should head back, Mister Aventurine.” You say, the smile on your face trying its hardest not to fade as you turn to look at him. “I don’t want your seat at the pinball machine to be taken from you.”

“And who do you think would have the guts to steal from me?” Aventurine smirks, one of his hands lowering his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. “No one is that suicidal, that’s the hard truth.”

He winks at you faster than you can get a grip on your door’s handle. 

“Just think about it, m’kay?”

In a flash, he starts walking off, leaving you all alone.

*~*~*~*

“Ah, you’re back!”

Aventurine is at the start of the hallway, the part where the gold paint is the most pronounced.

“My break ended.” You say your answer quickly and simply as you walk past him. Instead of your high heels, you are wearing black flats.

Your feet were bleeding much more than usual when you finally made it to your room. Yeah. That is the excuse you will give to your boss if he asks. He seems drunk and is still at his little booth, not to mention it is dark in the casino at the moment, so there is quite a low chance he will.

“You don’t look so good.” Aventurine nearly shouts, causing you to walk even faster to make it to the wheel of fortune. “Did something happen?”

His voice is soon drowned out by the crowds of people talking. Just a few more seconds. A few more seconds, and he won’t be able to bother you much longer and he will head back to that pinball machine he has been hoarding for the past hour. 

You move past the ogling eyes of drunk consumers and move past the guards, who always let you behind the stage without a hassle. Your flats don’t make nearly as much noise as the heels as you walk up the five steps.

You only have three minutes before the curtains withdraw from their positions, so you pull on your bun to make it tighter and put the stray baby hairs behind your ears. You brush any dust off your dress and then brush off any dust that is on the gambling wheel. The cleaners only work after all the shows are done and all the guests go home, so it is up to you to make sure the show is always looking its best.

You hear the countdown from the electric speakers and the onlookers.

“Five! Four!”

You take a few deep breaths.

“Three!”

You hear the confetti cannons turn on.

You close your eyes and think about the best possible future, one where you can be happy. Where you can be yourself. Where your smiles are real. Where your happiness is real. Reading for as much as your heart desires. Trying all the delicious-looking food no matter how strange it may look. 

“Two!”

Instead of hearing the number one, you just hear more cheers.

The curtains move to the designated sides of the stage, and the near-blinding spotlight shines at you. You smile, waving at the crowds of people, until you see something that nearly causes your facade to crumble down.

Aventurine stands there at the start of the line, holding his three dice just like before.

*~*~*~*

You avoid Aventurine just long enough for the casino to close for the night. It was not an easy task by any means, but somehow retreating to the bar on the job and making simple conversations with other patrons and fellow staff members was enough to repel him.

Since it is after hours, the bartender has gone back to his room to sleep after downing five shots of Spade. He will be hungover tomorrow, that much is certain.

Ah, to only work when it is far past dusk. A dream only for your boss’s most favored employees. Aside from the bartender, there is his guard, who has been seen for the past few months being so drunk that he cannot even stand; he has to sit on the floor.

There is no room for you in that little club. But your gut tells you that it is better this way, for no one unfavored can see what goes on inside.

It is only you in this bar now, spinning around on the stool closest to the gates that lead to the other side. It’s you. Despite this job, despite everything, you are still you. All you ever have to be is you. Only you.

The glass in front of you is half full. Half full with Melancholy. It is only slightly bitter, the rest of the flavor profile being floral and refreshing. This type of shot glass is only reserved for people as high standing as Aventurine due to the little scattering of gold at the rim. 

They are stuck there so they won’t choke whoever is drinking from the cup. For once, your boss put his resources into something partially useful. If only he would do the same with your salary and put some more credits into it.

The door’s chiming bell rings. You hear the front door then close. Did the bartender forget to lock the door?

Should you say something? You don’t want to get in trouble with your boss tomorrow, and his hangover will certainly make his wrath ten times worse than it already was.

The sound of footsteps doesn't fade, and another sound accompanies it soon enough; Aventurine’s voice.

“Hey. Just wanted to drop by. See what you’re doing this late all alone, you know?” 

Before you can turn around and politely ask him to leave, he sits on the stool beside you. Vibrant eyes make contact with yours.

A hand goes on your shoulder, squeezing with a purpose; to keep you quiet.

“Are you drunk? You smell like Blossom Dew and Soothing Soda. Heavily.” 

He's exaggerating, you know this. You've barely had a sip. It's not nearly enough to get you intoxicated. Not at this early into the after-hours. You still need to have a few more beverages before heading to your room for the night.

“Mister Aventurine, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” As he chuckles, your body instinctively reacts, possibly as a protective response. You wouldn’t blame it for acting this way, even under ordinary circumstances.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making orders like that. Maybe if you worked for the IPC, but you’d have to work at the speed of light to get anything close to my ranking.” His hands slither from his sides to your glass, tilting it so he can see the dark yellow liquid within it. “Hmm. Do you not have a high alcohol tolerance, Miss [First]?”

“I do.” You rebuke. He shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t think I should believe you, honestly.” With one of his hands, he takes off his pink sunglasses, putting them beside your cup. “Maybe if you drank the rest of it in one gulp.” With a slam, he puts a stack of credits on the table. “Go on, do it and I’ll give you enough credits to leave Penacony forever. I promise.”

Who are you to decline such an enticing proposition, despite your distaste for the man's company? This employment, with all its hardships, can vanish if you are simply granted the funds. Thus, you hastily consume the remainder of your beverage without deliberation.

You’re too focused on the bet at hand to notice the unusual saltiness.

With a wide grin, he applauds enthusiastically, his cheers echoing through the stillness. However, his clapping abruptly ceases, leaving behind an unexpected emptiness. In its place, a throbbing headache emerges, surpassing the intensity of any typical morning-after discomfort.

The fall into a state of unconsciousness is far from effortless; it feels more like a sudden, jarring blow to the face, sharp and agonizing. 

“I’ll keep my word, that is a gambler's responsibility after all."

[2cupids]

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 | 𝐤. 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings — sugar daddy!hongjoong, readers in her 20s, hongjoong’s in his 40s, pet names, oral (m. receiving), f.ingering, cowgirl,choking, fluff at the end.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who takes you to buy a new dress any time he takes you out for dinner or when you have to attend events with him. you have at least 40 different dresses you could choose from at this point but it doesn’t matter to hongjoong.

when he can’t accompany you to shop for a dress because he has business to attend to, he simply gives you his card and tells you to pick the prettiest one and treat yourself to whatever else you want to that day.

but more often than not, he flies you out to italy to have your dresses custom made. sometimes he’ll send a sketch ahead of you of what he wants to see you in and let you talk with the designer about changing any details that you don’t like.

he wants you to have the best of the best, something other people can’t get their hands on.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who has no shame about renting out the entire floor of a restaurant for just the two of you. when you ask him his reason, he says that he just “prefers it this way.”

sugar daddy!hongjoong that lets you pick out your own penthouse.

he brings you along with him while he goes around looking at different places, citing the reason being that he’s “expanding his real estate portfolio”.

he’s constantly asking you what you think of each place, whether you could see yourself living there, how you would decorate the place, etc. you think it’s silly when he writes a check to buy the one that you liked the most but you don’t pay it too much mind.

that is until later that day when he hands you the keys.

“it’s all yours baby. i’ve already got movers packing up your old place, they should be here in an hour or two. is that alright with you?”

sugar daddy!hongjoong who loves surprising you with random shopping sprees. he likes surprising you with gifts and all, but he’d rather have you pick exactly what you like.

he could sit watch you try on outfits all day if it means he gets to see the way your eyes sparkle.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that was a bit of tsundere especially when you first met.

he has trouble expressing his love and admiration for you but he actively works to try to get better.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that enjoys sharing his hobbies with you, one of them being customizing clothes and shoes, giving them a personal touch.

you tend to make a mess whenever you work with the art supplies, accidentally getting paint and marker stains all over yourself. you find it bothersome but hongjoong finds it cute. to him, your clumsiness just adds to your charming qualities.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who gets excited whenever you let him choose your next hairstyle. if you’re hesitant about trying a certain style or color, he encourages you to do so, as long as you’re comfortable with it. he’s always complimenting you and praising you.

despite his love of picking your hairstyles, he loves when you decide to just wear your beautiful natural hair as well.

the same thing goes for your nails too. oh, and he always makes sure you get your toes done too so don’t even try to argue with him. if you’re out of the country and need a new set or a fill in, he’ll fly out your chosen nail tech.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that’s like putty in your hands whenever you flutter those pretty lashes of yours at him.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that not only likes to have custom dresses made for you but also have custom lingerie pieces made for you as well.

one of his favorites is an emerald green set with a garter belt and matching lacy stockings that have his initials ‘KHJ’ on the center gore of the bra.

sugar daddy!hongjoong wouldn’t call himself an exhibitionist but he will touch and tease you (discretely) in public settings or where others are present.

like while his chauffeur is driving you home, he’ll let his hand rest on your thigh, letting it slip under your dress and inch closer to your core until his fingers are hovering right in front of your soaked panties.

“don’t make a sound and i’ll fuck you to sleep when we get home.” he whispers in your ear as his fingers move your underwear to the side, finally making contact with your clit.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who possessiveness makes itself known in the bedroom. he wants to hear you tell him that you’re his and that he’s the only one who can make you feel good.

tell him what he wants to hear or he will slow down and eventually stop what he’s doing all together until he gets what he wants. no amount of squirming around on the bed or whining will help you.

“didn’t i ask you a question? tell me whose pussy this is.. or would you rather be left high and dry? your choice baby.”

sugar daddy!hongjoong who thinks you look so pretty when your mouth is full of his dick. he likes to hold your head in place while he fucks your pretty mouth.

“such a good girl for me. gonna stay like that and let me cum down your throat?”

sugar daddy!hongjoong who wraps his hand around your neck while you’re bouncing on his cock and it makes you see stars.

he likes the feeling of your walls clenching around him while you try to focus on riding him, the lack of oxygen slowly getting to you.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that likes it rough but makes sure he takes his time with you often, giving you good old fashioned love-making to remind you of how much he loves and cares for you.

sugar daddy!hongjoong that can be having a terrible day but once he sets eyes on you, his worries and frustration fade away.

sugar daddy!hongjoong who falls in love with you more and more every time he looks into your big, gorgeous eyes.

it’s been more than just a business relationship to him and he’s been feeling that way for a long time now.

he hopes to one day he’ll be lucky enough to be able to call you his wife.