#far from it i think it's great do what you want & what you feel called to

[indexthejester]

01: meh I think. Getting better I suppose.

02: My friend, we say it when ending calls

03: far too much. Sometimes it hits me like a bullet to the chest. Feels like the metal ball in my brain pinballs into a bumper that gives negative points.

04: no definitely not <- she lied

05: single and looking for friends which may turn into queerplatonic relations. Not that I'm crossing my fingers.

06: slowly and calmly enough to analyze the way it feels to die, but not too peacefully that it's otherwise uninteresting.

07: Zaxby's chicken strips

08: tried a few. Not my thing. Except tennis, I liked that one. Not sure if snowboarding counts but I like that too.

09: Yes I do it sucks.

10: never had one, unless wrestling counts

11: I like many people. I love them too. I suppose I have a crush on people that I relate too, especially if I find them interesting. I want to know every part of them intimately. To drink it all in.

12: yes

13: I don't think so, I try not to. I don't think it's very useful for solving my or the world's problems, and it makes me feel pretty miserable in the process.

14: probably somewhat, I'm pretty lonely most of the time so yeah almost always. I work and live better when I'm with someone I like. Whether talking or just present in the same "space".

15: 2 family dogs, one day I'll move out and get a cat probably. Cats are great.

16: chill, minus the usual slight heartburn. Just got our of the shower and am lying in bed, getting messages from a new friend, living well.

17: no, very out of left field question

18: not really. I find them interesting though. They either look like insects or weirdly mammalian despite being neither. Weird that scorpions are more closely related.

19: nah there's nothing for me back there.

20: god I wish

21: talk to a friend and life planning

22: no, I mean I'm good with them and it's very fulfilling I just find it stressful. Right now I have so much I want to do I can't see myself adopting and settling down but maybe idk.

23: 2 for earrings

24: Math and English I suppose. Programming too if college counts

25: Maybe. Not at the moment. In recent past, it was fun to hang out at the lgbtq center in college. Sucks that I'm stuck at home now.

26: more social interaction. I may be anxious about how I reply or generally talk through textual messaging, but it makes me feel all comfy inside :3 also sleep because it is 2:36am for me rn.

27: idk

28: no

29: never had one

30: eye strain and heart burn and social anxiety.

31: I think so. I don't think it's for me to say, I try to love myself at least, though it's really hard.

32: magenta, or some other combo of purple and red. Hence the Melantha pfp. Also she's autistic.

33: yes, very much so

34: can't remember. The last one I remember was very sexual which is unusual for me.

35: cried on a call with a friend of mine I think. Just scared of the state the world's in.

36: I don't know, I don't know if I've had to

37: depends on the person I guess. Sometimes you can't do either. Just gotta learn to live with what happened.

38: So far absolutely not. But in the past 4 days I've had a lot of fun being alive. It is fun to make new friends and connect with people and have fun.

39: excluding my parents it hasn't happened

40: yes

51: chicken alphredo and chicken cordon bleu

52: I don't believe in fate, but I do believe in causality, to an extent.

53: brush my teeth I think. Maybe watch a youtube video or masterbate, though I usually do the latter as I'm falling asleep so I'm not sure if it counts.

54: I'm sure you could invent some crazy scenario where it is, but in general I think betraying your partner's trust is just about the worst thing you can do in a relationship.

55: I try not to be.

56: 0

57: when I am vulnerable and comfortable, I am filled to bursting with love for the world and everything in it. So if "true" means "pure unfiltered" then maybe yeah. Me x The Universe. Me x All My Friends.

58: bright but not too bright, grey skies, no visavle sun, chill in the air. Can move around without sweating buckets.

59: YYYYYYYEEEEEEEEESSSSSSS

60: very much so someday. Already planning it out.

61: never had it happen to me though it seems pretty boring standard. Call me your owner, handler, mad scientist, something interesting.

62: a loving community and the ability to freely create art

63: yeah obviously

64: yeah I'm too old for that it's weird

65: what are we role-playing now? I don't know, depends on the context. (Treating "sex" as "gender" for these questions btw.)

66: no, I don't. I wouldn't call any of my friends men.

67: My father but I honestly wonder if he's not a little trans

68: like a really deep conversation? Uhh definitely @thatweirdyellowrat. Haven't felt that much mental clarity after a conversation in a long time. I would not be as happy or geared to make new friends if not for that.

69: Fuck no.

70: I think so yeah, more than one actually. Which is saying something because I value my life a lot.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[pure-oddity]

141 au (choose your fav member) where you buy a boyfriend, which is a joke amongst friends - until it isnt.

It's a ¼ scale figure of your favorite 141 boy. He wasn't cheap, but worth it for just how lifelike he looked(aside from being, ya know, small)

The second he's out the box, he's posed and set up for a photoshoot. The pictures being sent straight to the group chat.

'Oooooo your boyfriend finally flew in huh?'

'He just moved in, said he wanted to take it to the next level'

It makes you laugh, having been single for a while - you lean into it.

And really - he is a great boyfriend.

Doesn't ogle you when you get changed (you turn him around), takes interest in your hobbies (you talk at him endlessly and he never responds), he'd never cheat on you(safe and sound inside a glass case).

He's great. There's even a tiny more serious part of you that feels safer knowing hes keeping watch while you sleep. Like he's protecting you. It's a nice thought.

Until you bring someone home.

His names Rob, short for Robert, he explained. And he works in tech.

Rob is….decent. he's nice, really. Just maybe not as into you as you were him (initially, you've since lost most butterflies after the 3rd date). But with such a lacking love life, and the option of something stable and safe - you let him spend the night.

The hope is the sex makes up for the lack of initial connection. Based on how he kisses you think it'll be. Decent.

But at this point beggers can't be choosers. So you fully intended to let Rob have his way with you, making it as far as the living room -

Stopping only when your bedroom door creaks open. And a fully grown man steps out.

Rob is mouthing at your neck still, seemingly unaware that you've frozen in his arms - your eyes wide and staring at your doll seemingly come to life. Which I'd a crazy thought, but so is the idea that you're being burgled by a very accurate cosplayer.

You can't even begin to push him off and warn him before a familiar voice calls out.

"Y' home love? How was dinner, girls night you said?" His arms are crossed as he leans against the doorframe. Rob finally notices the shift in atmosphere,finally noticing and startling at the sight of a brick shithouse of a man.

"T-thought you were single? I, man I swear she said she was single"

"S'all right, im sure thats what she told you. But she's not, so why don't you head out-" he pauses, expression shifting from calm indifference to something dangerous. "before I feed you your teeth?"

Rob is gone in a blur. You've never seen someone move so fast, and quickly you're left alone with this stranger.

The air is tense for a few seconds, he doesn't break eye contact, content to stare from the doorway.

Your voice quivers, pleading and scared."…I don't know who you are but-"

he interrupts you with an amused huff, stalking closer with a smooth predatory prowl.

"Course you do love." He smiles, you can smell his cologne , there's a faint hint of smoke.

"I'm your boyfriend, 'member?"

[woso-story]

Sore Loser

Leah Williamson x Reader

You always knew Leah was competitive. It was one of the many things you loved about her. She brought that fire onto the pitch every single game, and it was one of the reasons she was such a great leader. But what wasn’t always so great? That competitiveness extended far beyond football. It didn’t matter if it was a simple card game, a casual bet with Beth, or even something ridiculous like who could get dressed the fastest in the morning���Leah hated losing. And when she did? Well, she became a sulking, grumpy mess.

Which was exactly why you were not looking forward to tonight.

Game night at your apartment with the team was usually fun. It was loud, chaotic, and filled with laughter, but there was always the underlying knowledge that Leah would inevitably throw a small tantrum if she didn’t win. She had promised, again, that she’d be on her best behavior. You had given her a knowing look when she said it, and she had grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I swear, babe. I’ll be good.”

You wanted to believe her. Really, you did. But history had proven otherwise.

Sure enough, the night started off great. Everyone piled into your apartment, bringing snacks, drinks, and way too much energy after a long week of training. You sat curled up next to Leah on the couch, listening to the friendly banter flying around. Even Leah was in high spirits—laughing, joking, being her usual charming self.

Then came Taboo.

The teams were divided, and by some cruel twist of fate, you ended up on opposing sides. Leah shot you a playful smirk, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Prepare to lose, love.”

You smirked back. “We’ll see about that.”

At first, the game was lighthearted, the usual chaos ensuing with people shouting out wrong answers and groaning at tricky clues. But as the rounds progressed and the scores became tighter, you could feel Leah’s competitive streak creeping in. Her relaxed posture became rigid, her lips pressing into a tight line whenever her team missed an easy point.

And then—disaster struck.

Your team won.

The moment the final point was called, the room erupted into cheers and groans. Some of Leah’s teammates slumped dramatically onto the couch, laughing at their defeat, but Leah? She looked devastated. Like someone had just told her that football had been permanently canceled.

“No way. No. Absolutely not. You cheated,” she accused, pointing at you with narrowed eyes.

You barely held back your laugh. “Leah—”

“This game is rigged!” she continued, turning to everyone in the room, her voice filled with righteous indignation.

The room fell into silence for a beat before Kyra, ever the instigator, piped up. “Leah, you sound like little Harper when she doesn’t get ice cream.”

And just like that, everyone burst out laughing.

Everyone except Leah.

With an annoyed huff, she stomped out of the living room and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Kyra smirked. “Told ya. Toddler.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go handle my toddler.”

Walking into your bedroom, you found Leah sitting on the bed, arms crossed over her chest, a deep frown etched onto her face. She looked so ridiculously cute in her little sulk that you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Go away,” she muttered.

You didn’t. Instead, you sat beside her and grinned. “You know everyone loves you, right? They weren’t making fun of you.”

Leah turned her head away. “I don’t like being the butt of the joke.”

“You’re not. You’re just a sore loser, and everyone finds it hilarious.”

She shot you a glare, but it had no real heat behind it.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to her cheek. She remained still, her pout still intact. So, you kissed her again. And again. And again.

Finally, she cracked. A tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“There it is,” you murmured, grinning at her.

Leah sighed dramatically. “I still think you cheated.”

You chuckled. “Of course, you do. Anything for my little grumpy toddler.”

She shoved you playfully, but when you tugged her hand, she followed you back into the living room.

The second you both stepped out, the team erupted into cheers.

“Look at that! She smiles!” Caitlin teased.

Leah rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the slight blush creeping up her neck.

And, just as you predicted, for the rest of the night, everyone mysteriously let Leah win every game. Because sometimes, it was just easier that way.

And you? You wouldn’t have her any other way.

[silkenwinger]

angst galore incoming, inspired by this/translation (almost required listening tbh)

He stares at his door for ten minutes straight. Some part of him wishes he was at work. He tried, at first, to oppose Price, but his captain is one stubborn man, and when he puts his will into one thing, he's capable of moving mountains to make it happen. So Simon is "home" for his birthday.

Price said it. Try calling her. Except he doesn't think it will do one good thing, and he only has himself to blame. He broke it off with you because he could feel the worst of himself coming out of his mouth and seeping its way into his hands. He's always been a far cry from a perfect partner, but he wanted to spare you from his absolute worst. If he couldn't do that, he might as well be alone. You never complained, but he could tell by the look in your eyes that you didn’t like some of his ways. That you didn’t tell him anything because you, at some level, were scared of him, of what it’d be without him.

He remembers the day very clearly. You'd gone out for dinner. You looked cute in your peach dress; he looked as dreadful as usual. Your expression stayed joyful for most of the night, anticipating god knows what. He'd let you eat and then tore you apart once you were back home. You had pleaded with your tears, and your words, with your body... he'd been unmovable then.

It crept on him as the days passed. At first, he felt like he'd done you a great service, releasing you from his shackles. He always wanted too much. You'd be freer without him, without the fear that comes with dating a soldier. And as sharp as you are, you'd find a way without him, even if it felt hopeless at first.

Then he started to feel as badly as he did before meeting you. Part of it he drowned in work— the rest stayed to laugh at him. He spent hours working out so he'd get so tired, the nightmares couldn't reach him in his slumber. When that didn't work, he stared at the wall in the dead of the night willing you there, in the room with him. Now that he's doing the same thing, the inane thought manifests into his mind and doesn't leave. He knows you're a homebody��� rare chance of you being out at this hour on a weekday. He'll make the same drive he always did, walk the courtyard, knock on your door. He will apologize and hold you close and call himself a stupid fucking dog for letting you go. For not believing you when you said you could go through this together, that it wasn't only his burden. Yes... you'll love him still, the way you did for so long, no games or childish tricks, only honesty and gentleness.

The light in your living room is on. He rings the bell, then knocks on the door to be clear. He has to see you now. He thinks he will die if he doesn’t. You open a sliver of the door, looking out with one eye. Clever girl, you never know who’s on the other side. When you recognise him, you open it more, still slowly.

"Simon," you murmur, your throat bobbing as you look at him from head to toe. He must look like a mirage. Your hair is done. Hanging out with the girls?

"Hey," he hears himself say. You look well. As well as the day he left you.

Your mouth is hanging slightly, your expression confused, but not necessarily angry. Maybe you are happy that he showed up, that he's still alive, that he thinks about you. Your hands, fiddling at each other, look cold as ever, nails coming to scratch off some non-existent cuticle.

"May I come in?" He thinks he's never been so brazen in his life, and his reputation is not exactly spotless. Your nose scrunches and you laugh then, the beautiful sound that he missed so much, a breathless giggle. He’s so close— so close to making it again, to holding your hands in his, to—

The spell is broken when another voice calls your name. A male voice, almost worried, inquisitive. To ask who’s at the door. Reality crashes on him as loud as an unexpected explosive, the shells of it stabbing him. Your laugh isn’t one of understanding, of residual love, it’s a laugh of disbelief at him. He freezes then, and can’t force himself to look inside, to confirm what he’s heard. His hands flex, his fists clench. You’re the one talking now, holding your hands up, almost reaching to touch his arm, but he dodges it, takes a step back.

“I-I’m sorry,” he manages to spit out, looking at you for one last time, not even daring to look inside for whoever you’re seeing now. You look sad, now, again, as he left you. Always causing you grief.

“Simon, it’s ok, we can—”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he tries to give an explanation, some kind of madness that took control of him and moved his body across the city. But he fears its name is loneliness and yearning.

He turns and starts walking away, not even looking back when you call his name again, as much as he’d like to. He closes the gate on his way out, hands in his pockets.

[viagostalons]

imagining if Illario was a companion for a moment, alongside Lucanis, and Rook takes him out of the toxic Crow environment.

Illario comes to the Lighthouse and I feel as though the Lighthouse gives what you want as far as rooms go (we won’t talk about rook’s room) and it adapts over time to that person. We obviously don’t know what Illario is like in his private space, but I imagine he’s fairly used to luxury; but we could also maybe assume the lighthouse is attuned to the person on a deeper level and gives them what they need to be successful.

Illario’s room, in my mind, is quiet and dark, lit by some spare candles. Maybe it has a place to read and relax. It is nothing like what he has in Treviso, a total divorce from the Crow lifestyle. To the point, where maybe he doesn’t even like it at first, maybe it bothers him. Rook can usually find him outside looking at the Fade or in the little music room.

Having Illario at the Lighthouse, the other VG companions start to hang out with him; furthermore, they see how Lucanis interacts with him and how he speaks to him; maybe they’ve even heard how Lucanis speaks about Illario and they have expectations that Illario doesn’t pull his weight and isn’t capable.

however, they find the assessment about Illario is wrong.

they come to realize Illario is not only capable but he’s also very good at what he does; he is meticulous and highly skilled.

I think the first time Emmrich personally hears Lucanis give a backhanded compliment, he shuts the whole situation down. He is ready to help Lucanis unpack what he just said, while also bolstering Illario’s confidence.

Rook takes Illario out and the companions offer compliments to Illario

“Great job, Illario!” “Well struck, Illario!” “Excellent hit!” Etc etc etc

I think at first, he’d resist and not believe them but over time, I think hearing genuine, kind praise would fix him

and if Rook could romance him??? Oh, I imagine it would start as Illario being charming but disingenuous. In his mind, why would Rook choose him when his great cousin the Demon of Vyrantium is already here and knowing Rook. Or any of the other companions. OR he’s assuming that Rook is also being disingenuous; obviously, Rook picked him, he’s known for his charm and body, to the point he’s weaponized his charm and good looks.

but Rook keeps coming back; Rook flirts with him and not just surface level flirting. Rook sees him; the first person to ever see him. The first person to peel back his layers and look inside. Rook calls Illario out for only giving surface level compliments and maybe for trying to speed run a relationship because that’s all Illario has ever known. Rook forces him to slow down, figure out what he wants. Rook never forces him to do anything he doesn’t want to. They take their time. Rook really romances him.

Illario is known for his flirtation skills and the way he can charm anyone. But I doubt he’s ever actually had someone want him beyond a one night stand. He’s probably allergic to real feelings and Rook pursuing him so much is probably alarming and confusing. I imagine his romance is actually just as slow as Lucanis’ because it’s a genuine romance. But by the end of VG, Illario is fiercely loyal to Rook; not quite a guard dog and more of a feral wolf, ready to tear out anyone’s throat who so much as looks at Rook funny.

making him a companion might have also healed his trauma with Lucanis. His cousin learns his behavior is wrong and Illario has a chance to air out his grievances in a healthy way. They deserve to be close, especially out from under Caterina’s influence. They could really be something; by the end, they are unstoppable and a great team. I imagine taking them both along by the end is a riot. Illario is very funny and charming but he’s also Lucanis’ brother. The sibling antics would be in full swing. And finally, they can discuss First Talon openly and honestly. Lucanis might even bequeath his cousin the seat in the end.

tldr; Illario could be fixed if he’d been recruitable in VG as a romanceable companion

[beef-brisket]

Alastor groaned: Please, do not taint my brain with whatever the fuck this is.

Adam glared: And you guys really need to learn to stop taking people!

Alastor grinned: Oh? I have bigger things to worry about than what some snobby, little rich boy has to say! You've never struggled a day in your life- my mother is sick and my so-called king had done NOTHING!

Adam: Okay... fair. But- this isn't the fucking way to go about it, man! Just- get a fucking job!

Alastor: A job?! A JOB?! in this economy?! Typical- that's so typical you'd say that! You had everything handed to you, we have nothing!

Adam groaned: Man, I'm trying to fucking fix that! Once I marry Lu, I'll use kingoms' wealth to help Pride! Shit, man! Just- stop and think for a minute!

Alastor: ...You'll help Pride... and my mother?

Adam: Yeah. That's the plan.

Alastor: ...You better not be lying, Adam. I trusted you once. I won't let another betrayal go so lightly.

Adam rolled his eyes: Yeah, sure. Just... fuck. Get out of here, alright?

Alastor stood still before going over and picking Vox up, making Jim lean on his shoulders.

Adam: Alastor! One last thing!

The man groaned before slowly turning around to face Adam: What-?!

The taller man screamed and stumbled back, but thankfully, he managed to stay uprignt.

Alastor: Did- did you just fucking HIT me?!

Asam: Dude, you fucked up my fiance and I'm letting you go. I ain't letting you leave here without a fucking injury.

Alastor wanted to fight back, but he really didn't feel like dealing with this idiot any longer, and he was sure the royal guard won't be far.

Once Alastor and Vox left the tower, Adam got to work on freeing Lucifer.

Ripping his shirt, he packed the wound on his side, making the king scream in pain.

Adam: Sorry, sorry, Lu. I need to stop the bleeding, okay? You're doing great.

Lucifer: W-Why... let him... go...?

Adam: ...I've seen how your people live. And, he's right. I've never suffered or struggled. Not like they have. If there's a woman out there relying on her son to help her... I don't want to stop that. I don't want to keep him from her.

Adam carefully untied Lucifer, and picked him up easily, making the king blush.

Lucifer: W-Who knew- you were so strong.

Adam laughed: Really? You couldn't seet muscles through literally every outfit I wear? Come on, babe~.

Prince Adam and Thief Lucifer

Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox ((RadioStatic yay! Lol))

Lucifer is a King of a dying Kingdom that is going to Hell (hahaha) and in order to survive and help his people him and the others steal as much as they can from neighboring kingdoms.

Adam is the heir to the throne in the Kingdom of Eden, his younger sister Emily won't be ready for it for a few more years yet.

Alastor gets the idea to kidnap one of them when he sees both Adam and Emily just out walking.

Fearing for his sister's safety, Adam volunteers to go with them willingly if they leave her.

So for safe keeping until they get the ransom money (you know the tower from tangled?) they take him to a tower that only they know about.

I love Prince Adam! Also, Lucifer, the hell are you doing hanging out with ruffians?

-

Vox searching Adam: He's got nothing! You're a Prince, where's your... jewels and gold?

Adam: Jewels? Gold? In this heat? I'd rather be chained up in your bdsm tower than wear gold on a day like today.

Alastor groans: Vox, teach him a lesson. His highness should know better than to speak out of line.

Vox: Teach him a lesson...?

Lucifer: Yeah, man. Punish him!

Adam: Yeah, punish me~.

[ragnarockz]

9. “please don’t think i’m weird for this…”

27. “i didn’t mean to call you that, i’m sorry” - “no! don’t apologize, i liked it…”

This one is gonna jump into a little something that @sapphictea and I had kinda touched upon a little while ago...

TW once again for some internalized homophobia 💔

They had been wrestling on the couch after cleaning up the living room. It was a Sunday; they had no where to go and no where to be and it always felt like they had all the time in the world before work started back up again on Monday. Agnes had Vidal pinned under her, trying to go for the agents neck to tickle her. She found out pretty quickly that Vidal was ticklish there; always when she left kisses on the back of her neck she would pull her shoulders up to her ears. Agnes thought it was endearing and sexy; always making a point to kiss her there just to see her reaction. Vidal secretly loved it; always allowing Agnes to kiss her on the back of her neck. She loved how that all familiar shiver would run down her spine; how Agnes' kisses always felt hot on her skin.

Vidal's hands were on Agnes' hips, trying to pull her off, to 'fight' her back. It was playful, fun. It always led up to some great sex afterwards. What better way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon?

Agnes made another move, getting in closer as she tried to steal a hungry kiss from Vidal's lips. She missed as Vidal caught on quickly, turning her head to the side so Agnes instead, kissed her cheek. They were laughing and panting; Vidal's hands grabbing tighter to the waistband of Agnes' sweatpants.

"God, Baby, you fight so dirty all the damn time... you fight like such a dyke!"

Vidal was laughing under her breath, eyes closed as she tried to flip Agnes over. She could feel he dead weight sink above her, causing her to open her eyes and look up.

It was like a shadow was casted over Agnes' face. She instantly let go of Vidal, pulled away from her completely as she sat up on her knees. Her eyes looked far away; like she was recalling a moment, a memory. Vidal swallowed and shook her head, closing her eyes again.

"Fuck...fuck, Agnes I'm sorry. I didn't mean it...I just...I'm so fucking stupid I don't know why-"

"No...don't...apologize..."

"Come on, that was uncalled for...I don't do that, we don't do that...I didn't mean it that way..."

"Please don't think I'm weird for this one, Vidal...promise? I...I liked it. I think you...should continue..."

Vidal's eyes snapped open as she stared at her partner, trying to read Agnes' face. She knew what this was all about; had seen it before. It always slipped through the cracks with them, was never put out right on the table. Vidal knew Agnes had a lot of internalized fear, hate, guilt. She knew a lot of things still scratched at her insides when they should have been smoothed over long ago. The femininity thrust upon her, the anger that swelled up inside of her, the need to quiet down and put away her sexuality.

And now here she was, sitting on top of her, asking her to call her a dyke. To call her a lesbo. A fucking faggot.

Vidal grimaced as she watched Agnes nod her head, moving back down so that she was planted on top of Vidal again. She found Vidal's lips this time, caught them before she could turn her head away. Vidal wanted the kiss, embraced it. She loved how Agnes tasted in her mouth; wanting to savor it for as long as she possibly could. Vidal moaned into the detectives mouth; her hands moving up underneath Agnes' shirt to grab at her breasts. Agnes hissed into Vidal's mouth as she pulled out of the kiss, making sure to bite Vidal's bottom lip to end it.

"Say it, Babe...go on..."

Vidal could tell Agnes was turned on, was aroused. She was concocting a perversion around these names, these titles in her head. It was about owning them now, making sense of them. Agnes was trying to embrace them while she had another woman pinned underneath her on a couch who was groping her breasts.

Vidal moved her face close to Agnes' again, lips a breath away from touching. She whispered ever so softly, ever so quietly onto those waiting, swollen lips,

"You're a fucking dyke...and a fucking faggot...and fuck me, I wouldn't have it any other fucking way with you..."

The rage and anger was boiling over, pushing into Agnes' memory as she recalled the past, her awful memories. But here she was now, with arguably the love of her life beneath her; loving her and adoring her. Maybe she truly was all those things; all those words. Maybe it didn't really matter; not in the sense of someone else's idea of her. It didn't matter in the sense of it being used as a weapon to scare her, to shrink her, not even to change her into something she would never be for someone else.

Fuck, she thought, none of it mattered after she came into my life.

[secondgenerationnerd]

Valentine’s Day

What’s this? A BBRae fic in 2025?! Enjoy 😘 (left on a cliff hanger if anyone wants to request the ✨spice✨)

——————

“Mama, I swear you get prettier every year.”

“Thank you, love.” Raven glances in her vanity mirror to her daughter. Emi hangs upside down in her parents’ bed, violet hair falling free from its scrunchie. Oversized Star Wars shirt that she suspects is actually her boyfriend’s tied over sweatpants. Completely at ease in her body, like her children always have been.

“I swear it’s dark magic.” Emi continues, stretching her arms to the floor.

“If I didn’t know better, Emerson Marie, I’d think you want something.”

Rather than her usual faux outrage, Emi shifts effortlessly into a panther, stretching before settling back down. Raven will never not be amazed at her family’s shifting. Violet fur sprouts along her daughter’s body, her clothes melting away. Bones shifting into the great cat’s. It once scared her—what if it hurt her babies?— but her husband reassured her it wasn’t painful in the slightest.

Tail lazily flicking in air as Emi speaks, “What has the world come to that I can’t call my mother beautiful? Without nefarious reasons?”

Familiar footsteps head towards them as Raven reaches for her kohl, “Blame your father.”

“Oh, absolutely blame me.” Gar agrees, leaning against the bedroom door, “I’ve been calling your mother beautiful everyday for 22 years and there’s always a nefarious reason.”

Rae winks at her husband, “That’s how we ended up with Emi and Eli.”

“We could always add another,” he purrs.

Their daughter’s snort, which was odd coming from her shifted form, pulls their attention to her, “Dad, you and Mama are a few months away from no kids. Do you really want to restart that clock?”

An ache starts the older heroes’ hearts. Emi had told them about her plans to move out with her boyfriend, Parker, before the end of May. Eli, never far behind his twin, had been looking for his own place. Pride’s too small a word for how they feel towards their children’s accomplishments….but time had gone too fast.

“Ugh, I can sssssssmell the pheromonesssssss from my room.” A purple scaled cobra coils its way up the bed, Eli’s voice coming from its hissing mouth. “What did you ssssssssay, Em?”

"First, the hissing? Dramatic even for you." She ignores her younger twin sticking his tongue out, "Second, just that they're almost child free."

"What do you think about another sibling, Eli?" Gar asks, now sat by his wife as she finishes her make up. Looking over her lipsticks as he always does for dates.

Shifting as easily as his sister, a now human Eli does lean into his dramatic nature, "Father, Baba, He who sired me and mine sister...The last thing this family needs is another magical shapeshifter. More importantly, I'm the baby of this family and plan to keep the title, thank you."

That makes his parents laugh. Their children have always been many things, but babies? Both children had always been fiercely independent with a love of life. The only reason they hadn't moved out sooner is a simple fact--They love their parents and the home they made.

"Somehow, better than when Wally threatens his kids with that." Raven muses, turning to face her husband. He plucks up her favorite lipstick. Gently holding her chin as he drags the color over her lips.

"Mmmm I dunno, Dad." Emi says, flicking her brother with her tail, "I'd pay to see Irey and Jai throw hands with a baby."

"Given that Irey has a baby, I doubt we'll see that." Gar snorts, blotting the lipstick before kissing Raven, "You, Rae, are gorgeous."

"Get a room." Eli groans.

Raven winks at Gar, "That's what our hotel stay is for. If you have your cousins over, please remind them we don't need noise complaints from the shouting.

"And here I was just going to invite my boyfriend over so we could have wild sex." Emi deadpans, shifting back. "Speaking of, I have my own date to get ready for."

"You and Parker going anywhere fun, love?"

"Just that new horror movie, maybe try that pop-up market after." Emi shrugs. "What about you and Dad?"

"We're meeting your Uncle Vic and Aunt Karen at Naan Stop." Raven stands, smoothing the front of her dress. The underbust corset had been a pain to get on, but she loves how it feels and looks. Gar moves to their closet, grabbing his matching button down. The rich purple color makes his green skin look jewel like...and the way he rolls the cuff up reminds her of what's under her dress. But that's for later.

"Ugh," The twins wrinkle their noses, Eli sliding off the bed. "I'm getting out of here, the pheromones are awful."

"That's hilarious coming from the biggest slut in here." Emi laughs, following her brother. Raven rolls her eyes as their children bickering fades. Strong arms wrap around her from behind. A warm kiss pressing to her neck make her turn, hands resting on her husband's chest.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Rachel."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Garfield." She kisses him, smiling against his lips. How had she even denied herself the joy she had with this man? "Now, let's go. I'm starving...and you're going to need energy for later."

[kallie-den]

Lifestyle Takeover Ch. 4

With Vivienne alert to Mel's schemes, she leads Mel and Emma into a surprise showdown... but is she quite as in control as she thinks?

This is a commission from Neana, and a sequel to Lifestyle Journalism! Previous chapters can be found under the same tag

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I  write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

---

Vivienne Gilbert had to fight with her entire being to keep a neutral expression as she waited in the conference room of her corporate HQ for her guests to arrive. Part of her—most of her—was so furious, it was all but impossible to keep her face darkening into a look of thunderous anger. All night, she’d been stewing in the kind of rage only shame could conjure up. Keeping a lid on it was a struggle, but it wouldn’t do to let her emotions show. For a woman of Vivienne’s station, there was no telling who might be watching.

Another part of her, though, the part Vivienne was straining most of all to keep suppressed, urged a broad, bright, dumb grin to dawn across her face. That part of Vivienne was sneaky. It ambushed her whenever she was distracted. Whenever she let her mind wander. Whenever a stray thought crossed her mind: a memory, a feeling, a mantra.

A name. That ridiculous name.

Vivienne was constantly trying to keep herself centered and calm, to rein in her anger, to take deep, measured breaths—but whenever she did, it was right there; that sticky, pink headspace, threatening to claim her once again. Vivienne felt like she was walking on a tightrope, and it was so damn hard to keep her balance.

Especially given what she was wearing.

So far, the best method Vivienne had found to keep herself under control was to focus on her imminent revenge. She’d spent a long, frenzied night making plans and dreaming up sordid, vengeful fantasies. That mindset had a matching facial expression too: a malicious, sadistic, superior smirk. While it wouldn’t do to tip off her intended victims, Vivienne didn’t mind letting that one show through from time to time.

It was the right look for a hypnogarch—and that was exactly what Vivienne was. A mind controller. A leader. A dominant. She wouldn’t forget it. And nor would anybody else.

“Ms. Gilbert,” one of her many brainwashed subordinates called out, opening the door a crack and sticking her head through. “Your guests have arrived. They’re on their way up.”

“Thank you.” Vivienne knew that her minions, at least, wouldn’t judge her for the way she looked. They weren’t capable of it. “Send them right in.”

“Yes, Ms. Gilbert.”

The door closed. Vivienne took a moment to arrange her face one last time, into a vacant, dull, entirely nonthreatening smile. She did her best not to think about how easy it was.

Then, no more than a minute later, the door to the conference room opened again. Melanie Adams stepped through.

Vivienne shivered at the sight of her pocket watch, worn around Mel’s neck like a pendant.

That aside, Vivienne was pleased to see that Mel seemed completely at ease and unguarded. If anything, she looked a touch smug. Already confident in her victory. That was part of Vivienne’s plan. She’d had her people invite Mel to the headquarters of Valeyard Solutions, her company, under the pretext of ‘talking business’. Probably, Mel assumed that Vivienne was going to cave and accept her parents’ offer, just like Mel had primed her to.

Everything was proceeding just as she’d planned.

“Hi, Vivi,” Mel greeted her, grinning. “You look great.”

Vivienne had to really try not to visibly shiver with treasonous pleasure at the name and the compliment.

The ridiculous outfit Vivienne was wearing was all part of her plan, of course. That was the reason she’d gotten dressed up in the pink, slutty, faux-business outfit Emma had bought for her the day before. The only reason. If she was wearing her normal clothes, Vivienne had reasoned, it might tip off Mel right away. It was just what she had to do.

But that didn’t make it any easier to deal with how it made her feel.

Vivienne pushed down on the feeling. This was her moment of triumph. Soon, all that would be behind her.

“Hello, Mel,” she said smoothly, once the door closed and locked behind the other woman. The look of surprise on Mel’s voice as she registered the focused, alert tone of Vivienne’s voice was a delicious reward. “I’m flattered you think so. But soon enough, I think you’ll find that you’ll be the one to… to…”

Vivienne’s words faded away as Emma, Mel’s pet bimbo girlfriend, stepped out from behind her owner.

A little whine slipped out from Vivienne’s throat. It was completely unfair how good Emma looked.

She looked like she had come straight from working out. The sway of her hips was what had Vivienne’s attention; Emma was wearing a pair of tiny yoga shorts—pink, naturally—stretched taut around her perfectly sculpted thighs. The way they looked on her made Vivienne throb with yearning. After a long—too long—moment, she made herself raise her eyes. Seeing that, on top, Emma was wearing nothing more than a sports bra stunned her all over again.

The irrepressible, giggling grin on her face and cute pink sweatband across her forehead completed the look. It was one Vivienne had seen over and over again on Emma’s OnlyFans. Night after night, time after time, touching herself to the gorgeous bimbo. Even now, Vivienne was struck by how utterly, blissfully happy she seemed.

“Well, where did I go wrong?” Mel asked smoothly. Vivienne cursed herself for giving her rival a chance to regain her balance. “I thought I had you.”

“Almost,” Vivienne snarled. Now the object of her ire was right in front of her, she could barely constrain her fury. “But you’re too much of an amateur. You shouldn’t have let me go home, Melanie. Never let a wild animal out of the trap.”

Mel simply nodded. “I guess I’ll have to remember that.”

"Oh, don’t trouble yourself!” Vivienne scoffed. “Soon, I’ll make sure you don’t remember anything at all. Not even your own name. You thought you were going to make me dumb, Mel? I promise you, you don’t even know the meaning of the word. Not yet.”

She’d hoped Mel would look scared. Instead, she simply seemed disappointed. Perhaps that was why her own boasting felt oddly hollow to Vivienne.

Emma, meanwhile, was completely unperturbed. She barely seemed to be paying attention. She was standing at Mel’s side and, as Vivienne watched, she began stretching out a little; first her arms, then her shoulders, then her back. There was something almost cat-like about her. She was completely at ease. Vivienne couldn’t help but marvel at it. She’d never been that relaxed anywhere, not even in the safety of her own home.

Except for yesterday, of course.

“So,” Mel ventured. “What happens now?”

Vivienne’s cheeks burned as she realized that, once again, she’d allowed herself to succumb to distraction.

“Now,” she said, rallying, “it’s very simple. I’m going to hypnotize you.”

Infuriatingly, Mel just smiled. “Didn’t you already try that?”

Vivienne’s hands balled into fists. Her knuckles turned white.

“That…” she spat. “That was… I was not at my best. This time, it will be different.”

“You’re at your best?” Mel shot back. “I see. Is that why you’re wearing… that?”

Vivienne had been prepared for a jab about her clothing. Being prepared didn’t help. It was all she could do to keep herself from squeezing her thighs together. Why did the embarrassment have to sing so sweetly in her ears?

“I… did what I had to do,” Vivienne said, making her voice carefully even. “Couldn’t have anyone tipping you off early.”

One thing Vivienne hadn’t been at all prepared for was the chill that raced down her spine when Mel looked her in the eyes and told her: “Bullshit.”

The CEO blinked dumbly for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t think that’s why you wore that outfit.” Mel tilted her head, studying Vivienne. “I don’t think that’s the reason at all.”

Vivienne couldn’t hold her gaze. She looked away. “I… that isn’t…”

“Tell me.”

“I… you gave me this compulsion,” Vivienne attempted, seized with an irresistible urge to justify herself to Mel. “It was too distracting. I had to give in. Just for a moment. Just tactically, until I-“

“Bullshit,” Mel repeated. “Tell me.”

“I am!” Vivienne felt herself quake with Mel’s command. Since when did this trust fund brat hold so much power over her?

“Come on,” Mel needled. “Out with it, Vivi.”

Another shiver. “D-don’t call me that.”

“Then I suppose I’ll say it.” Mel was as calm as ever, and Vivienne couldn’t seem to find the strength to interrupt her. “You put that outfit on because you wanted to. Didn’t you? Because you like those clothes. Because they make you feel good.”

The hot breath of pleasure that washed over Vivienne was like nothing she’d ever felt before. “N-n-nooo,” she replied, but it came out more like a moan than a denial.

“Oh yes,” Mel told her. “You look great, by the way. Really cute.”

Vivienne was ready to bite back, but she paused when she registered the complete lack of condescension in Mel’s voice. Her rival was being completely sincere.

She looked cute?

That comment had Vivienne blushing deeper than ever before.

“You know,” Mel added softly. “You don’t have to do this.”

Vivienne glanced up at her sharply. “What?”

“Hypnotize me, I mean,” Mel said. “You really don’t. It’s up to you.”

Vivienne tried to laugh. It wasn’t convincing. “Why wouldn’t I want to hypnotize you?”

Mel shrugged mysteriously. “Maybe you’ve had enough of fighting. Enough of struggling. Maybe you just want to relax and feel good, for a change.”

Goosebumps. All over Vivienne’s body. “That’s…”

“Wasn’t it nice?” Mel pressed. “Being Vivi, yesterday?”

Vivienne’s breath caught in her throat. That was one question she tried her hardest not to ask herself.

Because the answer was all too obvious. Yes. It had felt good. It had felt amazing.

“Yeah,” Vivienne whispered. The confession was a thrill.

“I see. Good!” Mel said brightly. She reached up to her neck and unclasped Vivienne’s pocket watch. “Well, if you do still want to hypnotize me, I suppose you’ll need this.”

She held it out, offering it back to its rightful owner. Vivienne just stared at it, dumbstruck. She should have been trying to figure out if the gesture was some kind of psychological trick. Instead, all she could think about was how heavy the pocket watch looked.

“Go on,” Mel urged.

Gingerly, Vivienne took it from her. It no longer felt right in her hand.

“Go ahead,” Mel said easily. “Take your best shot. Hypnotize me—if you can.”

“If… I can?” Vivienne’s voice had lost all of its cool, arrogant edge.

Hypnotize Mel? She wasn’t sure she could remember how to begin.

She was struggling to face up to how quickly she’d lost control of herself. Control of the conversation. She’d walked in here with a plan, Vivienne tried to remind herself. All she needed to do was remember it. Everything had seemed so clear. Her anger. Her purpose. What had happened to all that?

Vivienne already knew the answer. It was her. Emma.

Emma hadn’t spoken, but she was standing right there and Vivienne couldn’t keep herself from glancing at her. She was so hot. So happy. So dumb. So perfect. She radiated a kind of serene bimbo self-assurance that was all but magnetic. It was impossible not to wonder what was going on in her head, even though Vivienne already knew the answer: nothing.

She’d always wondered about that nothingness. How did it feel? What was it like to live that way? Now she knew, and she couldn’t forget. It was so tempting, it was right there, still lurking at the back of my mind, inviting her back into its blissful arms.

One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!

“You failed to hypnotize me before, Vivi,” Mel was saying. Not pointedly. Just stating an unavoidable fact. “Just like you failed to get a grip on your obsession with Emma. You still can’t stop looking at her. Just like you failed to resist dressing up this way this morning. You tried, didn’t you? But you just couldn’t help yourself.”

Without realizing what she was giving away, Vivienne nodded.

“Face it,” Mel insisted. That earlier moment of softness made her criticism hit all the harder. “You’re losing control.”

That sent a shiver through Vivienne. Mel was right, she knew. She was losing control. Losing the one thing she had always prized. She couldn’t tell if the thought horrified her or excited her more. She had to try and win it back.

Didn’t she?

“But I can tell you what nobody else will,” Mel continued. “That it’s OK. It’s OK to lose control, Vivienne. It’s OK that you’re not good enough. It’s OK that you can’t win.”

“I…” Vivienne couldn’t put a name to the way hearing that made her feel.

“It’s OK that you’re not good enough,” Mel repeated. Her voice was so soft. It was so easy to listen to her. “There can be other things for you, Vivi. Things that feel even better than winning. I’d love to show them to you.”

Once more, Vivienne couldn’t resist glancing at Emma.

She wanted to say ‘yes’ to Mel. She really did. There was no longer any point in denying the obvious. Vivienne wanted it. But still, for as much fun as it had been, she couldn’t quite bring herself to give in to her desires. Her pride, battered and bruised though it was, was still there, holding her back.

Her family name. Her long-held ambition. It was all she’d ever had. Vivienne couldn’t let it slip through her fingers just for the sake of something as vapid and silly as wanting to be like her favorite bimbo porn star.

Could she?

“I…” Vivienne made herself lift the pocket watch. Maybe once she began the induction, she’d find her rhythm again. She had to hope so. “That’s… not true. I’m going to beat you, Mel. And your parents. And I’ll climb all the way to the top, and… and…”

She trailed off. What was all this for, again?

And to her surprise, the person who spoke up next wasn’t Mel. It was Emma.

“Uh…” Emma ventured, her bimbo grin a little more nervous than usual as she looked at Vivienne. “Does this mean, like… we can’t go on any more shopping trips?”

That, more than anything else, left Vivienne feeling truly lost.

Mel was swift to seize on the open vulnerability she saw on Vivienne’s face. “That’s right, Emma,” Mel said. “That’s what Vivi wants. No more shopping trips. No more dress-up. No more Vivi.”

“Aww,” Emma pouted. “But it was so much fun!”

Vivienne whined.

“It was,” Mel agreed. “But you heard her! It’s over. No more hanging out, no more giggling, no more pink.” Sensing that the CEO had reached the threshold of her failing well, Mel looked straight at her. Daring her to agree. “Isn’t that right, Vivienne?”

No more pink…

Vivienne thought about the life she was proposing to go back to. Endless meetings. Endless reports. Endless watching her back. Always fixated on the next goal, on the next fiscal quarter, on the next rival to be subdued. The constant exhaustion that came from working fourteen-hour days every day and every week. If she took down Mel, even her one pleasure—looking at Emma’s OnlyFans and fantasizing—would be ruined.

No. She couldn’t do it again. Not for one more day. It was more than she could face.

“P-please…” Vivienne said quietly.

“What’s that, Vivi?” Mel prompted, smirking. The shiver that raced down Vivienne’s spine in that moment was better than anything she’d ever felt.

“Please.” Vivienne glanced at Emma. Her voice cracked. “Make me… like her.”

She closed her eyes, braced for crowing and mockery. Instead, all Mel said was: “Of course.”

Vivienne let out a shuddery breath. This was it. She’d given up. She’d been broken.

She didn’t regret it.

“But,” Mel added after a moment. “If you’re surrendering to me, it has to be willing. Right now, you’re the one with the power.” She gestured to the pocket watch Vivienne was holding. “You want to be brainwashed? Show me.”

Vivienne all but moaned as she realized what Mel was proposing. She was embarrassed, but not ashamed. Now that she’d taken the plunge, she could embrace submission with all her heart.

“Yes, Mel,” she said demurely, and dangled the pocket watch in front of her own face.

No motion was more familiar to Vivienne Gilbert than swinging a pocket watch. She had done it countless times, always bringing some chosen victim under her power. But she had never done it quite like this, with the watch’s face facing toward her, allowing her eyes to rest on the tip of the second hand as it ticked mechanically around the clock. Even so, it felt perfectly natural. Vivienne was able to relax and let her muscle memory do the work for her so that her mind could give all of itself into the object that started to swing steadily back and forth in front of her face.

Hypnosis. Self-hypnosis. What was the difference? Vivienne had hypnotized so many people. What was one more?

Vivienne took a long, deep breath and let herself focus, and unfocus. Let everything but the pocket watch fade into a pleasant, indistinct blur.

As she did, she couldn’t but imagine all the things she might say to a prospective subject in her position. She might suggest that they could already feel themselves being tugged under by trance’s irresistible pull in all kinds of small ways. And Vivienne could—it was right there, after all, the part of her that made it seem like it would be so easy to just give up and be Vivi. She might hint that their thoughts were turning slow, sluggish—and hers were. It was such a relief, to not need to think. To not be able to. To just be dumb. She might tell them that following motion with your eyes was as natural as instincts got, and impossible to fight. And that was certainly true for Vivienne.

She couldn’t fight. She didn’t want to fight.

Thank goodness.

Vivienne quickly found that her own expertise in hypnosis became her undoing. Even if she’d wanted to struggle against it, she couldn’t help but find the way her own mind succumbed to the process irresistibly fascinating. She was so perfectly aware of how, exactly, it worked; of the way the second hand’s ticking served as just the right kind of distraction to keep her conscious thoughts preoccupied while her subconscious mind settled into a relaxed stupor, open and vulnerable. She could feel it through her entire body, in the way her heart beat and the way her muscles let go of their tension. Vivienne recognized it for what it was.

Submission.

It was so good. It was so hot.

Within just a couple of minutes, Vivienne was left at the cusp. Her eyelids drooped, held open only by her need to keep staring at the pocket watch. Her mind had become so weak and so slow, she couldn’t form a single clear thought. She was ready to let someone else take control. Ready to let another voice fill her head and tell her what to think. What to be.

And Mel was right there.

“Good girl, Vivi,” Mel said, perhaps sensing Vivienne’s need for a guiding hand. The CEO shivered at the name. “Just keep looking. Keep swinging. Keep breathing. That’s all you have to do.”

Her careful emphasis filled Vivienne with warmth. It was all she had to do. Look. Swing. Breathe. No more. No longer.

“Even you can manage that, can’t you?” Mel teased. “You might not be able to beat me. You might not be able to control yourself. But even you can stare at a silly little pocket watch.”

Her teasing should have raised Vivienne’s choler. Instead, it was a comfort. Mel was right. She wasn’t good enough to be a CEO. Not good enough to be Vivienne Gilbert. She couldn’t make it in that life.

She was only good enough to be Vivi.

“It feels good,” Mel continued, voice dripping with affirming condescension. “Doesn’t it? Getting dumb for the watch. Getting dumb for me.”

Vivi nodded.

“So dumb,” Mel soothed. “You don’t need to think about anything. Don’t need to remember anything. Isn’t that right?”

Vivi nodded again. A wide, dull smile was coming to her slack face.

“Soon,” Mel promised, “you’ll be just like Emma.”

Just like Emma. Vivi sighed happily at the mere thought.

“You already look like her, after all,” Mel laughed. “Pretty in pink. Cute. Adorable, really. You two are like peas in a pod.”

Vivi shivered.

“I bet you can giggle just like her,” Mel encouraged. “Can’t you? Try it for me.”

Obediently, Vivi giggled.

“Good girl.” She giggled again at the praise. “Doesn’t it feel good? Giggling like that.”

It did. It really did.

“You’re not a serious person anymore,” Mel told her. “Not scary. Not powerful. Not smart. Nobody is going to take you seriously anymore. You’re just a silly, giggly bimbo.”

Another giggle. Vivi had never felt so relaxed. The things Mel promised were exactly what her fantasies were made of.

“That’s right,” Mel pressed. “It comes naturally to you, doesn’t it? The more you giggle, the dumber you get. The dumber you get, the more you giggle.”

That was an easy little mantra for Vivi to keep in her head. It was so simple and so stereotypical that, at once, it held the bimbo completely within its power.

She giggled, and felt herself grow even more relaxed and air-headed. It was perfect.

“That’s right,” Mel laughed. “Just like that. Very good. Try again.”

Vivi giggled—and then moaned, as she felt her long-prized sharpness and intelligence slip even further out of her grasp.

She wondered what her employees and rivals might think of her if they saw her like this. Giggling, plainly entranced, and dressed in slutty, glorious, ridiculous pink.

Mel was right. Nobody was going to take her seriously anymore. Fuck, it was such a relief. Such a turn-on.

She giggled again. She got dumber again. She loved it.

“Excellent,” Mel praised. “I think you’re almost ready, Vivi. But before you get too dumb, there’s just one more thing I need you to do for me.”

When Mel reached out and plucked the pocket watch from Vivi’s fingers for the very last time, the hypnotized woman blinked in surprise and confusion. She looked blearily to her new mistress for answers.

“I had the papers drawn up last night,” Mel said to her. “Emma?”

Emma reached into her bag and pulled out a slim, plastic envelope. She handed it over to Mel, who pulled out the sheets of paper within. She set them down on the conference room table, along with a pen.

“Here.”

Vivi glanced at the papers. She could barely make her eyes focus, and she certainly couldn’t make sense of some of the longer words, but enough of it jumped out to her for her to get the gist of it.

This was a contract. A very simple one, in fact. It was for her to turn over her ownership of Valeyard Solutions to Melanie Adams and her family’s holding corporation.

Slowly, Vivi picked up the pen. Dimly, she was aware of what signing the contract would mean. Her life’s work, gone in a moment. The source of all her wealth and prestige, thrown away. For any would-be hypnogarch, it was the ultimate, irretrievable defeat.

For a brief moment, the sheer enormity of that seemed to exert a tidal pull on Vivi, threatening to drag her kicking and screaming back to wakefulness. Was this really what she wanted?

Then the moment passed, and she giggled.

What was Vivi going to do with a whole company, anyway? She was just a ditzy little bimbo.

“Yes, Mel” she said blankly, shivering as she gave in to her ultimate fantasy. She picked up the pen and, guided only by muscle memory, signed the name ‘Vivienne Yvette Gilbert’ on the dotted line.

All gone. And with it, all that remained of Vivi’s old identity.

“Good girl,” Mel told her, although it was clear the other woman could barely contain her celebratory laughter. “Very, very good. I’m proud of you.”

Vivi giggled happily. Mel was proud of her! That was all that mattered—and that was so blissfully simple.

“Time to take you down the rest of the way,” Mel said. “Don’t worry. I promise, you won’t remember a thing.”

She reached out and touched the tip of her finger to Vivi’s forehead. As if by magic, Vivi’s mind became still. Then Mel stroked her hand down Vivi’s face in a hypnotic gesture that, somehow, pulled Vivi’s eyes shut.

“Go to sleep, Vivi.”

***

A little less than two weeks later, Mel found herself sitting in that same conference room, wearing the kind of neat, tight-fitting, eye-wateringly expensive suit she’d spent most of her life resisting being put in. But for some occasions, it was a necessity; as the new president of Valeyard Solutions, she’d been taking a conference call with some of the company’s investors and partners in order to reassure them about its new leadership.

Apparently, she’d acquitted herself well. Although Mel was sure it had helped that her mothers, two of the city’s most powerful hypnogarchs, were now among those investors and partners.

Now, after terminating the call, Mel was taking the time to sign off on a few things that one of Valeyard’s many identical, brainwashed secretaries had brought for her approval. The hypnotized women staffing the executive floors were certainly efficient, albeit, Mel thought, a little dreary. She was considering a change in official color scheme.

“I think that’s all of it,” Mel announced, as she put her signature on the last form. “Thank you.”

“Yes, Ms. Adams,” the secretary said, more than a little robotically. She picked up the slab of paperwork.

Then, Mel twitched abruptly.

“Ms. Adams?” the secretary asked, her face blank. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Mel said quickly, a slight blush filling her cheeks. “Completely. You can, um, go now.”

“Yes, Ms. Adams,” the secretary said, nodding her head. Obediently, she turned and started walking away—just quickly enough that she didn’t see Mel twitch again.

After what felt like an eternity, the secretary stepped out of the conference room and let the heavy door fall closed behind her. At once, Mel let out a huge, panted, pleasure-filled breath that made her whole body heave.

“G-god,” she moaned, looking down under the conference table. “I didn’t think you’d make it that hard to keep quiet!”

After much giggling, out from under the table crawled Emma and Vivi.

“Sorry!” Emma tittered. Her face was dripping with pussy. “It turns out Vivi is just, like, a super quick learner when it comes to eating you out!”

“Um,” Vivi giggled, blushing from the praise. Her face was dripping too. “I dunno about being, um, a quick learner, or whatever. I’m just a dummy!”

“No, no,” Mel told her. “I think Emma’s right. You really hit the, ah, spot, just now.”

Emma and Vivi turned to each other and embraced, giggling and blushing as hopelessly as schoolgirls.

To look at her now, almost nobody would have recognized Vivi, corporate bimbo, as Vivienne Gilbert. The makeover Mel and Emma had given her was total. To see that the girlish, giggling figure kneeling before Mel was once the woman who had once made headlines as a corporate conqueror, you would have to look past her bleached blonde hair, her frivolous, absent-minded demeanor, and the layers and layers of heavy makeup that gave her sweeping eyeliner, glittery cheeks, and pink, thick, pouty lips.

And, of course, there was her outfit. Mel had enjoyed Vivi dressing like a secretary so much, she had decided to make that the cornerstone of her newest bimbo’s new aesthetic. In fact, Vivi was now dressed in almost exactly the same uniform as her former employees—with just a few small but all-important changes. It was all pink, naturally, and the blouse was cut lower, and the skirt, much, much higher. All the better to show off Vivi’s body, which—thanks to Emma’s workouts—had never looked better.

Plenty of bright pink exercise gear had also made it into Vivi’s new wardrobe. It was only fitting, for Emma’s new OnlyFans co-star.

Mel smiled as she thought about some of the collab videos the two of them had made. Yes, this life suited Vivi much, much better than corporate leadership ever had.

“Come on, girls,” Mel chided, voice sultry. She spread her legs. “I said you were doing a good job. I didn’t say the job was finished.”

“Yes, Mel!” chorused her bimbos, and dove back to their knees.

Greedy for pleasure, Mel moaned as she felt their tongues against her sex as the two of them pressed themselves between her thighs, jockeying for position.

She couldn’t help it. They were so damn hot, and they’d been getting her worked up all through that meeting.

That was most of Vivi’s new job. She appeared with Emma on OnlyFans sometimes, but most of her days were spent at the office with Mel, serving as her personal assistant—at least, of a kind. She no longer had much capacity for organization, but she was terrific for morale. Quite the little boardroom cheerleader. Vivi had taken to her new role like a duck to water, without the slightest hint of reservation or regret.

It helped, of course, that she no longer remembered anything of who she’d used to be. Mel had made sure of that. Vivi was much, much happier without all of that baggage.

“Oh yeah,” Mel purred, as Vivi buried her tongue deep inside her cunt. “Right there.”

She wasn’t sure if it was Vivi being a quick learner or Emma being a good teacher, but either way, her new pet was quickly learning all the best ways to satisfy Mel. Now, as she lapped eagerly at her owner, Vivi kept glancing up, eyes fogged over with lust and gratification, so she could check on Mel’s responses.

“Good job!” Emma tittered, pulling back from a moment. “But don’t forget about…”

Mel’s moans turned throaty, desperate, as Emma surged forward and planted her lips on her clit, sucking and teasing eagerly.

“F-fuck!” Mel squealed, writhing as she stained the leather of her expensive, executive chair with her wetness.

“Wow,” Vivi giggled. “You’re, like, so smart, Emma.”

All three of them giggled as one.

Then, Emma joined her fellow bimbo, and suddenly Mel had both of them fighting to make her feel good, licking at her clit, clinging to her thighs, breathing and lapping against her sensitive skin. After hours of being forced to stifle her moans and her pleasure, it was more than she could take.

“Fuck!” she moaned again. “Oh my god, yes! Just like that, good girls. That’s perfect! I’m-“

“And now,” Emma giggled, pulling back on Vivi’s shoulder, “just like… stop for a moment.”

Emma couldn’t keep a lid on her whine of disappointment as both of them drew back.

“Hey!” she protested. “What are you doing?”

“See,” Emma stage-whispered to Vivi, while they both giggled. “She’s mad at me… but she’s totally gonna cum her brains out if you tease her like that a few times.”

“I told you to finish the job!” Mel complained, a big smile on her face. “That means you’re meant to get me off right away, babe.”

“Sorry, Mel!” Emma sang, before putting the prettiest, most perfect pout Mel had ever seen on her face. “I guess I was just, like, a little too dumb to know that.”

For a moment, Mel was stunned by her cheek. Then she rolled her eyes and started laughing.

“Oh my god,” she howled. “You know I’m going to have to punish you for teaching Vivi your bad habits, right?”

Emma just batted her eyelashes. “I sure hope so, mistress.”

Her lusty, submissive tone immediately lit a fire within Mel. “You,” she said, beckoning Emma up toward her. “Come here. And you?” She glanced down at Vivi. “Get back to work.”

Before Vivi could reply, Mel wrapped a hand in her hair and forced the bimbo secretary back into her cunt.

She moaned again when, immediately, obediently, Vivi pushed her tongue back into Mel’s cunt, working her back toward orgasm just as Emma had taught her. Emma, meanwhile, rose unsteadily to her feet before Mel grabbed her waist and pulled her against her. The bimbo slumped across Mel’s lap, and her owner pulled her in for a deep, passionate kiss.

“You know,” Mel panted, after they broke off. “I still owe you a proper thanks.”

“A proper, um, thanks?” Emma echoed, confused. “For what?”

“For her.” Mel indicated down at Vivi. When Emma still looked confused, she went on: “I couldn’t have done it without you, babe. Seriously. I may be a hypnotist, but you? You lured her in. You helped me figure out the perfect way to get into her head. You made that video. You tempted her. You made her want it. It’s all thanks to you.”

“Awww!” Emma melted against her lover, turning a brighter shade of pink than ever. “Mel, that’s, um, wow! I, like, don’t even know what to say.”

“I love that you’re too dumb not to set me up like that.” Mel winked, although the playful gesture was somewhat spoiled by the way she kept panting and rolling her hips as Vivi ate her out. “Cause, actually, I was hoping you’d say…”

Mel slipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out a small case. She opened it, to reveal an engagement ring.

Emma’s squeal of delight drowned out even the obscene sounds coming from between Mel’s legs.

“Now that we have another bimbo in our life, I want to make it clear just how important you are to me,” Mel explained, staring lovingly at her girlfriend. “Plus, I’ve actually been thinking a lot about her. About how unhappy Vivienne was. I… may be going down the same road in life, but I don’t want to end up in the same place. I think having you by my side is going to make sure that doesn’t happen. You make me happy, darling.”

Emma was all but tearing up as she stared at the ring. She kept giggling, then sniffling, then clasping her hands over her face.

“So…” Mel prompted eventually, once she couldn’t bear the tension.

“Yes! Obviously!” Emma erupted, throwing her arms around Mel. “I love you!”

“I love you too.”

Emma pulled back, and the two of them kissed once more.

“You know,” Mel said roguishly after they broke off, as she slipped the ring onto Emma’s finger, “it might be a lot of work, but there are a few perks to being the boss of this whole place.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For example.” As she spoke, Mel slid her hand down Emma’s body, resting it briefly on her waist. Her hips. Her ass. “If I want to take the rest of the day off, nobody can stop me.”

“You’re so smart, Mel,” Emma giggled. “And you, like, owe me that punishment!”

“Right,” Mel laughed—then moaned, as Vivi attacked her clit again. “B-but you better be careful, babe. Soon enough, Vivi here will be giving you a run for your money.”

The bimbo between her legs giggled proudly, the sound muffled by Mel’s body.

“Nuh-uh!” Emma retorted huffily and slid her way out of Mel’s lap. She elbowed Vivi out of the way, and pressed her face against her new fiancée’s cunt, eager to prove her prowess.

It was just as Mel had intended. As the two perfectly sculpted bimbos started competing for her favor, fiercely but amicably, all she needed to do was sit back in her comfortable executive chair, relax, and enjoy the waves of pleasure that carried her to orgasm.

Maybe becoming a hypnogarch wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, dmtph, MegatronTarantulas, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, Neana, Shadows exile, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Phoenix, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Thomas, Liz, naivetynkohan, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, Bouncyrou, Nimapode, Ash, Artemis, Geckonator, TheRealG, Anonymous, J, GladiusLumin, Ada, Marina, Space Prius, Alex, Michael, Thomas, Dasterin, Djura, Joe, Mattilda, Ana, proletkvlt, DOLLICIOUS, Yodasgirl, Allie~, Cusco-, Griffin, Bouncyrou, Hazelpup, Jakitron, Leah, ravenfan, Ash, ferretfyre, Alphy D, Latavia, KBZ, Ashe, Jackson, Elizabeth, noe, Steve, Melo, gynoidpoet, MaeMae2569, Thomas, Haggisllama, naughtzero, Nevin, Waddings, Aletheia, NewtypeWoman, ostara, Ivy, Ramanas, tidalGardener, Junefox, dylan, Girl with a Hog, Daedalus, Brainy, Alan, Abigail, Motoyuuri, likenyah, Valmire, Ambition, SkinnyQP, Evelyn, Danielle, Flluffie, jlc

Special thanks to Neana for commissioning this story!

[c0pernicus]

my besties boyfriend is someone i rly dont enjoy interacting with for a variety of reasons but i also dont know how to talk to him about it without it being A Thing and he keeps trying rly rly hard to be friends with me . miserable existence pain and agony what do i do chat

[pure-oddity]

141 au (choose your fav member) where you buy a boyfriend, which is a joke amongst friends - until it isnt.

It's a ¼ scale figure of your favorite 141 boy. He wasn't cheap, but worth it for just how lifelike he looked(aside from being, ya know, small)

The second he's out the box, he's posed and set up for a photoshoot. The pictures being sent straight to the group chat.

'Oooooo your boyfriend finally flew in huh?'

'He just moved in, said he wanted to take it to the next level'

It makes you laugh, having been single for a while - you lean into it.

And really - he is a great boyfriend.

Doesn't ogle you when you get changed (you turn him around), takes interest in your hobbies (you talk at him endlessly and he never responds), he'd never cheat on you(safe and sound inside a glass case).

He's great. There's even a tiny more serious part of you that feels safer knowing hes keeping watch while you sleep. Like he's protecting you. It's a nice thought.

Until you bring someone home.

His names Rob, short for Robert, he explained. And he works in tech.

Rob is….decent. he's nice, really. Just maybe not as into you as you were him (initially, you've since lost most butterflies after the 3rd date). But with such a lacking love life, and the option of something stable and safe - you let him spend the night.

The hope is the sex makes up for the lack of initial connection. Based on how he kisses you think it'll be. Decent.

But at this point beggers can't be choosers. So you fully intended to let Rob have his way with you, making it as far as the living room -

Stopping only when your bedroom door creaks open. And a fully grown man steps out.

Rob is mouthing at your neck still, seemingly unaware that you've frozen in his arms - your eyes wide and staring at your doll seemingly come to life. Which I'd a crazy thought, but so is the idea that you're being burgled by a very accurate cosplayer.

You can't even begin to push him off and warn him before a familiar voice calls out.

"Y' home love? How was dinner, girls night you said?" His arms are crossed as he leans against the doorframe. Rob finally notices the shift in atmosphere,finally noticing and startling at the sight of a brick shithouse of a man.

"T-thought you were single? I, man I swear she said she was single"

"S'all right, im sure thats what she told you. But she's not, so why don't you head out-" he pauses, expression shifting from calm indifference to something dangerous. "before I feed you your teeth?"

Rob is gone in a blur. You've never seen someone move so fast, and quickly you're left alone with this stranger.

The air is tense for a few seconds, he doesn't break eye contact, content to stare from the doorway.

Your voice quivers, pleading and scared."…I don't know who you are but-"

he interrupts you with an amused huff, stalking closer with a smooth predatory prowl.

"Course you do love." He smiles, you can smell his cologne , there's a faint hint of smoke.

"I'm your boyfriend, 'member?"

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words; part two (here)

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[dirt-str1der]

WHY DID YOU FEEL THE NEED TO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR AROACE SENKU HEADCANON ON MY GAY SENKU AND TRANS REI POST

Just finished Dr Stone Reboot

[arolesbianism]

Why must I only be capable of coming up with cool art ideas long past midnight

[luveline]

Hi Jade! (I’ve sent this before so ignore if you aren’t into it) just thinking about a bau!reader (maybe shy!reader??) who’s dating post-prison Spencer but didn’t know him before prison and she sees some footage of season one Spencer (maybe they need to refer to a recording of a previous case?) and she’s just dying at how cute he is 🥹

You’ve barely woken up with your face in a solid shoulder when Spencer’s turning around.

“Don’t,” he says when you whine, slipping a familiar hand over your hip. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Too early to make fun of me.” 

“Do you think I’m making fun of you?” 

His talking warms your nose where his head is angled down. Your skin smarts with goosebumps as he trails his hand lightly up your back, down again, the slowest, tumbling touch. You shiver, and Spencer, ever so slightly devious in love, says, “Oh, you’re cold?” with great pity as he pulls you closer. 

You rub your face against his shoulder. “Sorry.” 

“Why?”

“I smell.” 

He hums. “Sort of. Not like sweat, though. You smell like sleep.” His lips touch your cheek.

He lets you ‘warm up’ in his arms for a few minutes, then however long you doze for, lost and too comfortable to bother even trying to wake up properly. Your phone pings a couple of times after it comes out of sleep mode, a sure sign you’ve overslept, but Spencer doesn’t make you move until your stomach growls. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your nose and slipping you back onto your side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” 

“It’s nearly twelve.” 

“You just woke up, and it’s the first thing you’re gonna eat. You are breaking your fast. Breakfast.” He looks pretty even through achy, tired eyes, all the sleep crusted in your lashes no match for Spencer Reid. How you went so long without knowing him is a mystery. 

You get up only because he told you to and because he looked quite lovely when he did it, not because you want to. The bed is warm, that pit of his arms calling your name, but Spencer’s already rolling out of bed with an eager hand scratching through his hair. Sweat has made them tight and a little darker in the back. You’ll both have to shower at some point, preferably after he’s made you breakfast in bed. 

He can see your expectations on your face, and he laughs as he pulls a t-shirt on over his head. “Get up! I’m not bringing it up here, do you know how badly your sleep cycle is affected when you start doing the wrong things in bed?” 

“What counts as the wrong thing?” 

Spencer laughs again, softer now, and for a moment he traces your face with his eyes without speaking. “Fine,” he says, waving a hand at you as he makes for the bedroom door, “stay there. But only ‘cos you look so pretty!” 

“Thank you!” you call back. 

This time with Spencer isn’t enough. You need ten more years of this, thirty, fifty, you need to wake up in his arms and have him touch you and tickle your cheek with his breath. He’s too far to have him come back, so you resign to hugging him when he returns. 

Your phone pings again, drawing your attention finally. The first notification is a reminder to buy toothpaste today at the grocery store. The second is a text from a friend, the third an email. It’s one from last night that piques your interest, another friend, full capital letters: HELP. 

Her use of a laughing emoji defers any urgency. You click on the text thread and scroll up, puzzled by her previous messages, a link, and a caption: oh my god he was so dorky??? 

You open the video and feel your breath catch in surprise. 

Is that Spencer?

You're not stupid, you’ve seen photos of him and his friends together dotted around the apartment from over the years, and every time you come across that photo of him and Diana at a spelling bee with his huge black-framed glasses you have to laugh, but it’s different seeing him to hearing him. 

He’s so nervous. You can’t understand what it is he’s saying, something about mathematical components to profiling criminals. Jason Gideon stands in the background watching him closely. 

“There’s actually a good joke that–”

“Spencer,” Gideon reprimands. 

You watch in awe as Spencer stammers an apology, his cheeks a little pink. You’ve seen Spencer blush, but this feels different. He looks so young. His hair is straight as a pin. 

“Spencer, did you used to straighten your hair?” you call, hoping he can hear you over the sound of a frying pan popping in the kitchen. “Or do you have a perm now, or what?” 

“What!” 

“I’m confused on the logistics of your hair!” You feel something weird in your chest as on screen Spencer tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a mixture of wanting to eat him and wanting to reach through the screen to stroke his cheek with your thumb. 

Spencer treks back into the bedroom with his pink and white pinstripe apron over his shirt and sweatpants. He smells like cinnamon sugar already. “What are you talking about?” 

“My friend found a video of you and Jason at one of those lectures you did.” 

Spencer presses his lips together. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. “I didn’t do any lectures.”

“Uh, yes you did, liar, and you looked so cute.” You turn your phone to him. “So sweet.” 

He marches to the bed. Before you can stop him, he’s taking the phone from your hand, giving you the world's silliest, tiniest shove when you try to get it back. 

“Cruel,” you quip. 

Spencer stares at the phone screen, then you, “Sorry,” he says, turning pink, “I don’t know why I did that, just��� I just–” He frowns deeply. “Can you stop smiling like that?” 

You climb onto your knees, a morning disaster, but when you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist he looks at you like you’re perfect. His eyes soften, brows relaxing, his irises like dark dimes that slowly dilate as he looks you over. Your phone presses into your back, his arm wrapping around you. 

“You were adorable,” you say sincerely. 

“Not anymore?” 

You rub your cheek against his apron. “No, you still are. Let me watch the video again.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[sloaneispunk]

“teacher’s pet” (mdni 18+)

teacher!in-ho x you

when in-ho’s wife tragically passed, he found comfort in a certain student in his class. how far was he willing to go with a student?

✮⋆˙ ──── ୨୧ ──── ✮⋆˙

in-ho had a perfect life. stable job, great friends and a loving wife.

he loved his wife unconditionally, they had the perfect relationship. they rarely argued, and the sex was amazing.

but his life came crumbling when he received a phone call from the hospital. his wife had gotten into a car accident.

in-ho was lost after that, for a few months he stepped down from teaching. he spent his time trying to find his happiness again. it was hard, he was stricken with grief, he thought there was nothing else for him in life.

eventually in-ho felt like he should get off his ass and do something.

he met with the principal of the school he was teaching at, wanting to get back.

he thought of it like a distraction, just something he could look forward to in the daytime.

✮⋆˙ ──── ୨୧ ──── ✮⋆˙

it was the first day of school, students were pushing and shoving to get to class.

you entered the classroom with your friends, seeing a new, unfamiliar teacher at the front of the classroom, taking your seat at the back.

“good morning class, my name is mr in-ho, i’ll be your new math teacher this semester.” the teacher announced as he turned to face the students.

“hey, he’s pretty hot.” you turned to look at your friend with your mouth hung wide open, slapping her on the arm as you both laughed.

lesson went on as per normal that first day, mr in-ho spent the hour introducing himself and getting to know everyone.

as the bell rang, signalling the end of class, everyone packed their bags frantically.

“that’s all, i’ll see everyone tomorrow.” mr in-ho said.

as the students got up to leave, a loud thud was heard from the front of the classroom.

“get up, nerd.” you heard.

you sighed, walking towards the girl who had been tripped by another student, helping her up as you glared at her bully.

“fuck off, what do you want?” you asked, taking a protective stand in front of the poor girl.

the bully said nothing, simply turning on his heel and leaving.

by now, all the students had left, leaving you, the girl, and mr in-ho behind.

“t-thank you.” the girl said, bowing her head as you frowned.

“you don’t have to thank me. he shouldn’t be doing that… are you okay?” you asked.

she then nodded, giving you an awkward smile as you scurried off.

“hey, what’s your name?” you heard a voice call out from behind you.

“oh, i didn’t realise you were still here.” you replied, seeing the new teacher behind his desk, packing his bag. “i’m y/n. y/n l/n.”

“that’s pretty.” he commented, offering you a small smile.

“thank you.” you blushed.

“that was really kind, what you did there.”

“oh, yeah, he has been really mean to many students. poor girl just didn’t have anyone looking out for her.”

“you’re a good girl, y/n.”

oh.

“t-thank you?” you chuckled nervously.

“what’s your next class? maybe i could walk you there.” mr in-ho said as the two of you stepped outside into the hallway.

“english. but i think i’ll be the one leading you.” you joked, causing him to let out a laugh.

✮⋆˙ ──── ୨୧ ──── ✮⋆˙

that night, in-ho went home feeling better than he had been the past few months. he felt like he had really connected with his new students.

they were so kind, so gentle, so sweet…

no, you were.

you were so kind, so gentle, so sweet.

the interaction he had with you kept replaying in his mind, he couldn’t think about anything or anyone else.

you reminded him of someone he used to know, and that fueled him.

the next day, he went to class as per usual. however, he didn’t take your class until noon, which meant he had to wait patiently for your class.

by 11am, he got pretty bored he had to admit. in-ho felt like he was just going through the motions, teaching the different batches of students that came in one after another.

however, when the clock striked 12, oh he was excited.

what he was excited about? he didn’t know.

he then heard a familiar laugh echoing through the halls. he turned to the door, waiting expectantly for you to come through.

the door flew open, revealing not only you to his dismay, but your group of friends surrounding you. he couldn’t make out what you were laughing about but he was incredibly intrigued.

“good afternoon.” you said cheerfully as you gave him a small wave before you took your seat.

in-ho felt a wave of flush run through him, he cleared his throat and ruffled his hair. “good afternoon, y/n.”

“oo, someone already made a move before the rest of us.” your friend teased, nudging your elbow playfully as you rolled your eyes.

time passed quickly as in-ho taught his first lesson to your class. he had found himself stealing tiny glances of you as he walked around, trying his hardest to not make it obvious.

his heart was beating so quickly he thought he could pass out.

maybe he was being delusional, or maybe even hallucinating, but he swore at times when he stole glances, you were already staring. and that made him nearly choke on his words multiple times.

after class, he stayed behind again, hoping that you would somehow approach him, striking up a conversation.

but you didn’t.

someone did approach him, but it wasn’t you. it was your friend.

“so… where did you teach before this? do you like it here? how is it like teaching our class?” she bombarded him with questions.

you took it as a sign to leave.

as you walked out, you turned for one last look. but to your surprise, you were met with the eyes of mr in-ho, as soon as he had been caught, he looked away, pretending to be interested in the conversation.

“see you tomorrow, mr in-ho.” you called out. but before he had the chance to reply, you had left.

somehow, you felt jealous. jealous that he was talking to someone like you first did. but why did it matter? he was just your teacher afterall.

✮⋆˙ ──── ୨୧ ──── ✮⋆˙

that night as he got home, in-ho dropped all his things. he practically ripped open his shirt and unbuckled his pants as fast as he could.

god, he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

he thought of your soft voice and your innocent face as he started to stroke himself.

‘fuck.’ he cursed as he started to go faster, his mind racing with images of your face.

he could almost hear your voice calling his name again. he replayed your laughter over and over again like a broken record.

in-ho went to sleep that night with you and only you on his mind. he knew he was fucked.

✮⋆˙ ──── ୨୧ ──── ✮⋆˙

weeks went by and in-ho found himself getting bolder and bolder.

within a month, he moved on to not so subtle touches.

as he paced around the classroom teaching, he took your seat at the back of the classroom to his advantage. he tested waters initially, brushing against your arm as he walked by.

when you seemed okay with it, he tried to deepen the contact.

he would place a hand on your shoulder as he passed you. when you didn’t move away or seemed uncomfortable, he knew he hit the jackpot.

his touch started to linger for longer than it needed to. somehow he craved touching you more and more.

what made him more desperate was the fact that he could smell your perfume whenever he walked anywhere near you.

it messed with his head in the best way possible.

furthermore, he started to notice how his actions took a toll on you. whenever he gently touched your shoulder, you would draw your legs together. was he really turning you on?

if he had happened to see you in the hallways, he would call you by name, greeting you, even starting small conversations.

he loved how everytime he did so, you light blush would creep onto your cheeks and you would struggle to meet his gaze, looking anywhere but into his eyes.

if this continued, he didn’t know how much he could take. all the cock-teasing, the small interactions.

he wanted more.

✮⋆˙ ──── ୨୧ ──── ✮⋆˙

( bungee jumping off their own - 2001 )