#for one reason or another it just does not happen

[yieldtotemptation]

WISH ft. Giselle

giselle x male reader smut

8k words

"It's a Christmas miracle!" —is how Giselle chooses to make her grand entrance, swinging open the door to your bar, a fresh powder of snow dusting her shoulders. She shrugs it off. "My favourite person in all of Seoul."

You deadpan, "That's very concerning."

She laughs off your quip with the same ease that she does everything else. Sways her hips, saunters over to you, fire engine-red heels clacking against wood as she rushes to take her usual stool. Not like she'd have to fight anyone for it, there's no one else here.

Besides, even if there were—it's always been hers.

You're sliding over her drink before she can even open her mouth to order, because that's what you do for her. Anticipate. Your job in a nutshell, really. Knowing what she wants.

Her thanks is in the blush colouring her cheeks, flushing them a rosy pink, matching her hair in hue.

Just so immediately pretty.

She raises the drink, grinning at you through the glass. Gets a little too dramatic with her gasp.

"Exactly what I wished for! How did you know?"

"Made a list, checked it twice."

That earns you a giggle, has Giselle leaning forward, propping an elbow on the bar, chin in her palm. Her usual routine—just sitting there, all beautiful and flirty and really, really fucking out of place amongst the dim lighting and worn-out leather.

And yeah, you’ve committed it all to memory, seen it in every light and shadow; the smoky liner ringing around her eyes, the gloss that makes her lips look shiny and sweet and oh so soft. The absolutely devastating smile that never seems to leave her—only gets wider, warmer, parting when she laughs and slaps a hand on the table, or lands it on your forearm.

Accidentally, of course.

"Does that mean I get to sit on your lap later?"

It’s a touch early for her to throw out bait so blatantly. That’s more of a three-drinks-in kind of thing.

Still, your mouth answers for you before your brain can catch up, “Depends if you've been naughty or nice.”

“I think we both know the answer to that one,” she says, far too casually for you to handle, daring you to let that thought linger. Let it rattle around your head with all the other loaded thoughts involving her in various states of undress and in all sorts of compromising positions—underneath, on-top, kneeling. Thoughts that are better kept on a tight leash.

Because you know what would happen if you were to give in to them.

How you’d reach over the bar separating the two of you, pull her onto the counter. Send all the glasses, the bottles, crashing to the floor, and just kiss that smile right off her face, right here, right now. Tear off her clothes and leave her bare and exposed to the cold December air, make her yours, fuck her absolutely senseless. Render her nothing but a victim to your fingers, your lips, your cock, to all the need that’s been boiling inside you over the past months and—fuck.

She's got you good.

There's no point in pretending like it hasn't been this way since the first time she found you—at the end of an alley that's at the end of another alley, down the stairs and into the underground proper. Waltzing her way into the hovel that is your whiskey bar; all for reasons that you’re yet to fully untangle.

Months of performing this same dance—it's late, she walks in, typically perfect and bouncy, like some half-remembered fantasy or a libido-driven hallucination. Only, she must be real, because there’s no way you could ever conjure up someone like her.

It's embarrassing, you really should be far more used to it now, built up at least a partial immunity to her brand of charm. But somehow, she still finds a way under your skin. You’re only human, after all. And she’s… she’s Giselle.

Undeniably, in-your-face gorgeous, Giselle.

Dead-set and determined to throw herself at you until you break.  

"Perfect," is her evaluation when she's taken her first sip. It plays out like it’s been choreographed: she licks her lips, flashes that million-dollar smile, lets loose a sigh of pure joy. Looks at you all wide-eyed and impressed; like you're the only person in the world who's ever given her exactly what she wants. Like she doesn't already live in a reality where everyone else falls flat on their faces to ensure that the needs of Aeri Uchinaga are met. “Always perfect.”

And you have your own steps to follow. You're glued to the pulse in the curve of her neck, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the naked collarbone when she shirks off her coat to reveal tits that are much too ample for her dress to contain. All these little things that make her so fucking distracting.

She says, surreptitiously, "You know, I didn't think you'd be open today."

"And yet you came anyway."

"And yet I did."

There's the loaded insinuation stacked on top of her words like a teasing question mark:

('I came looking for you.'

'I was waiting.')

"Like I said, a Christmas miracle," Giselle repeats, softly this time. Barely audible over the Christmas tunes you’ve got on a loop, some self-inflicted torture you’re wreaking on yourself for purposes unknown. Maybe to get into the spirit of things. Maybe to keep the silence at bay. Maybe to make Giselle's efforts feel less effective.

It doesn't work.

It does, however, have you leaning in just to hear her better, and that's a mistake right there. Getting too close that you can follow the lines of the dress she's picked out for the night. A sheer black, strapless number that hugs her figure close, dipping at her chest, giving you just enough of a glimpse to send the alarm bells ringing.

Ending short of the tops of her thighs, because of course she's wearing stockings, and of course they have tiny little bows holding them up, and you're already thinking about how easy it would be to get your teeth in them and pull them apart, and the walls are starting to feel closer and closer with each passing second.

But you don't say anything. You just try to remember to breathe. You chance a look back at her face, aiming for unaffected.

Her eyes instantly undo you.

Giselle uncrosses and crosses her legs. The stockings stretch.

"Like what you see?"

Now seems like an optimal time to pour yourself a drink. Something strong to fortify the weakness in your knees, to maybe bolster the resolve that's threatening to crack like the ice frosting over the windows outside.

You grab a glass, pour a good measure of whiskey and throw it back without even bothering with the usual ritual. You need it. The burn is a good distraction.

You turn her question back on her. Shame on her for asking something so obvious. "What do you think?"

"I think," Giselle smiles, tilts her head, that curtain of bubblegum-pink cascading over her collarbone and down onto the bar, "That it appears that all the effort I put getting into this tight fucking dress was worth it."

You're unable to stop yourself from saying, "Don’t need the dress if that was the intention." It slips out of you, like an idiot, and you decide to busy yourself by pouring two more drinks, because you really don't know what the fuck else to do at this point.

“Duly noted,” she says, likely adding it to some mental file she keeps on you. Ways to get you to drop your guard. Ways to get under your skin. “But don’t you think unwrapping presents are half the fun?”

You’re rolling your eyes, it’s too much, but Giselle’s too good at this whole thing. Got the two of you sliding deep into the easy rhythm of conversation you've found yourselves in many, many times before; when it's just you and her in the waning hours of the night and you're finding excuses not to close up and she's finding excuses to stay.

And the drinks just compound on it even more. All the alcohol really seems to do is blunt her filter and dull your better instincts, bringing you both to that tipsy point where everything that comes out of your mouths can’t help but sound like shameless innuendos; all terrible ideas that you both absolutely must indulge in.

Talking and flirting and drinking until you’re finally crossing that invisible line drawn over the counter of your bar, forgetting about that ethereal wall of separation that keeps you on the straight and narrow; that would normally stop you from doing things like reaching over and brushing a strand of pink out of her face and over her ear.

You keep your hand there, your thumb padding the soft skin of her cheek. She leans into your palm.

“So,” she says, and it’s accompanied by the kind of pause that holds a whole universe of possibility. She takes a sip of her third drink of the night, her eyes fixated on you, studying the lines on your face. Trying to find the cracks.

“So.”

“Why haven’t you made a move on me?”

She might as well have gathered snow from outside your door and thrown it right at your face. You blink, the warmth of the whiskey in your cheeks fading fast. “Very confident of you to think that I would want to.”

“Don’t dodge,” she chides. “We both know you didn’t open tonight for the amazing business rush. So. Spill. Why?"

You’re about to spout off an excuse—something about a Hippocratic oath, or bartender-customer privilege, but Giselle cuts your lie short before it can even leave your throat.

“You’ve been staring at me like you want to eat me alive every night I’ve been here, and you expect me to believe you’re not interested?” Giselle leans closer, her breath warm on your hand. Her eyes piercing through, stripping away every defence you’ve ever had. “You’re barely hiding it you know? How badly you want me.”

There’s an implicit challenge underneath her words. You get the message loud and clear:

Don’t you know how badly I want you too?

"It's—" you start, before course correcting when you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. You swirl the whiskey around in your own glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light and dance. "Complicated."

"Oh really?" Giselle's eyes light up at that, and you're beginning to feel like you're falling into some trap she's set up. It just hasn’t revealed itself to you yet. "I like complicated. I live off complicated."

"I'll bet," you reply, not missing the fact that she's now taken your hand into hers, threading her fingers through yours. "Probably why you're here so often."

Giselle clicks her tongue, runs it across her lips. You'd die for a taste. "I thought I asked you to stop dodging. But, if you really want to know, I come here because I like the company," she explains, before ending her thought with, "and the attention."

"Because being an idol doesn't give you enough?"

"Not in the way I want it."

"And I do?"

"Not yet," she says, with an air of finality. "But give it time."

The silence stretches between you, thick with the weight of the unspoken. The air in the bar feels charged, like the moment before a storm hits. You're reading her, acutely aware of the things running through her mind, because you can see it in her eyes, because they're the exact same thoughts that’s never left yours.

You want her.

You need her.

She’ll give herself to you.

Giselle’s the first to break the pause. “Ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

The corners of eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and that's about where you realise your fate's been sealed from the start. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. You’re aching already. "What I really want for Christmas."

You don't need a map to know where this is headed. But you still ask anyway. "And what is that?"

"You."

You set down your glass with a clink. "Look, Giselle—"

"Let me finish," she interrupts, and now her hand's sliding up your arm, leaving a trail of static wherever she touches. "For Christmas this year, all I want is for you to do whatever you want to me."

A second attempt, "Giselle—"

"I know you want to. You know I want you to. We've danced around this for too long and I'm running out of ways to subtly tell you that if I don’t get my hands on that perfect cock that I know you're hiding, I just might burn this place to the ground. So," she says carefully, intentionally. Making sure you feel each word coursing through your every nerve ending, winding their way down to your cock, until you’re throbbing in your pants.

Giselle bats her eyelashes. Bites her lip. Leans even closer. Her tits get very close to winning the war against her dress.

"Don't you want to make my Christmas wish come true?"

You never stood a chance. "I do quite like my bar in one piece."

"I do too." Giselle's smile turns devilish. “But I like the idea of having your cum inside me more.”

"Then we better get you out of your clothes."

Only, a slight amendment.

"But keep the stockings on."

—

Giselle kisses you like a woman starved. Messy, sloppy crashes that has her nose bumping into yours and her teeth finding purchase in your lip. She seems determined to leave her mark. You’re more than happy to let her.

It’s a far cry from what you’re used to—the build-up, the slow crescendo where you both pretend that you don’t immediately want to jump to the inevitable—but Giselle clearly doesn’t give a fuck about any of that.

The moment you’ve dragged her over the bar, fulfilled your fantasy and cleared the countertop so the only thing standing between you and her body is the crumpled mess of her dress, she's on you. Moaning, whining into your mouth, desperate. Tongue hunting down yours, pressing into it, trying to wrestle it into submission.

Taking your cheeks into her hands, holding firm, the only thing keeping her steady as you match her hunger, heat against heat. Her taste is everything you've ever wanted—sweet and sharp, like the whiskey burning through your veins, warming you from the inside out.

"God, I needed this," she whispers in the breaths between your kisses, as your hands get adventurous and run down the length of her spine, pulling her closer into you.

You make good on your promise, finding the zip, peeling it down, leaving the fabric to sag off her shoulders. Her skin is cold underneath your fingertips, the curve of her back breaking out in goosebumps. Your touch makes her arch, her back bow, her breasts push up against her dress until it can't hang on any longer and the whole thing pools around her waist.

“Merry Christmas to me,” comes tumbling out of your mouth when you finally get to appreciate Giselle.

The full, round tits, naked and begging for your hands. The smooth curve of her waist, the dip of her stomach. The way her hips flare out, giving way to thighs that you know, just know, will be the perfect grip. And the stockings. Holding up the suspension of your disbelief—she’s so ridiculously out of your league and yet so, so needy for you.

“Fucking gorgeous, Giselle,” you’re telling her, making her sigh, her eyes closing shut as you reach out to fill your hand with her chest. Your touch makes her nipples pebble, stiffen underneath your thumb. She leans back, pushing her chest out even more, giving you as much of herself as she can for you to touch, to tweak, to worship.

And she’s so much smaller than you, so much softer than you’ve ever allowed yourself to believe. The reality of her in your arms is far more intense than any fantasy you’ve ever concocted in the quiet of the night after she’s long gone and left you with nothing but her memory. But she’s giving herself to you now, wanting you to do it all.

Letting you push into her, kiss the skin between her neck and her clavicle, press into her a brand that will linger long after you’ve both unwinded and unraveled each other.

“Just like that,” Giselle whispers in your ear, hands finding your neck, needing you even closer still. “Don’t stop, just keep touching me. You can do whatever you want—tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just don’t stop.”

Nothing else to do but oblige, to give in to your baser instincts, to bring every fantasy, every lurid thought to life. Giselle’s been living in your mind rent-free. Filled it with thoughts of fucking her into oblivion again and again—so you already know exactly where to go, what to do next.

You know to trace the edge of her stocking with your thumb, pressing down on the bow, watching as the skin around it flushes from your touch.

You know to drag your hand up, higher up her thighs, push the hem of her dress to her waist, slip under the elastic of her panties and hold itself there. Leave her trembling in anticipation of your touch.

“Please,” you’ve barely started and she’s already begging, breathless. Needing for you to explore her.

But first, you need to tell her how.

“I’m going to touch you,” you say, voice gruff, and she shudders, her hands tightening around your neck. “I’m going to get my fingers into your cunt, I’m going to squeeze your tits, I’m going to make you scream my name, and you will, because you’re going to be such a good girl for me. Understood?”

Her eyes flash open, meeting yours. Not an ounce of doubt. Just pure need.

“Yes,” she says. A single word that’s more a plea than a response. “Please. Do whatever you want. Make me feel good.”

She just about collapses when you yank her panties down and push your hands between her thighs.

“God—fuck—” and she’s sobbing already.

“You’re so drenched,” you’re remarking, sliding your fingers higher, feeling the wetness that’s been gathering there for who knows how long.

“For you,” she’s gasping, repeating herself, “For you.”

It’s so easy to find the heat of her, to push in and down on the top her mound. Give just the right amount of pressure on her clit that makes her jerk. Makes the muscles in her face twitch, her mouth open wide and moan. It’s a melody in your ears, and you press down harder, swirling now, and you’re beginning to think you’ve found your true calling.

Fuck making her drinks; making her fall apart is why you were put on this planet in the first place.

Her breasts jiggle with every tremble that runs through her, flickering in reach of you, taunting you with their bounce. You can’t help but lean down. Not when they’re calling to you like that.

You lick a path from the base of her neck to her collarbone, and then lower, to one of those perfect peaks that’s been begging for your attention.

Giselle inhales sharp through her teeth, her chest heaving as you start to suck on her nipple. You work your tongue around it, roll it in your mouth until her knuckles turn white against the edge of the bar, her nails digging into surface. The sounds she’s making, these choked gasps that are so raw, so needy.

Showing how good she feels with every part of her body—pushing her breasts up and into your face, her hands tangling in your hair, legs spreading wider, thighs shaking at the effort of staying upright.

You don’t let up, keep going—tongue swirling, fingers moving at double-time over her cunt, her other tit.

Listening to her turn your name into something filthy, something that sounds like a curse.

You pull back off her, cool air kissing the wetness you leave behind, making her quiver, her high, fuck-me heels knocking against wood.

“Giselle,” you say, taking in this look of bliss on her face. The teary eyes, the trembling lip, her cheeks now so very red. “Gonna make you cum now.”

You don’t wait for permission. You already have it. You step forward, lifting her legs up and trapping her atop the bar, spreading her wide open.

Two fingers at first, all at once, no hesitation. Giselle’s pupils blow wide, shocked, teeth bite down on her bottom lip, muffling a cry that you feel in the pit of your stomach. She’s so soaked that you slide right in with ease, a slow push that makes her whine, the slickness making the sounds of your fucking echo over the din of the empty bar.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Giselle stutters, all breathy and desperate. Hands flying to your shoulders, nails digging in. Holding on for dear life, writhing as your fingers curl upwards, pushing up against that magical spot inside that has her clenching.

“Such a good girl,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth like they’ve always been there, just waiting for her to hear them.

The whimper that she makes—the noise alone should be illegal.

“So tight around me,” you tell her, pushing on, focusing entirely on pulling more of these noises from her, doing your best to ignore how hard you already are, how unbearable it is to not be inside her. “So good for me.”

It’s the praise that makes her keen, makes her whine. Pushes herself onto your fingers, trying to get more, trying to get all of you. Just so fucking hot for you.

You can see it playing out across her body, the way she’s losing herself to the pleasure, giving up control of her own functions to you.  So helpless, so beautiful. So fucking delighted to finally have you using her in ways she’s only dreamt of.

You’ve never seen anything like it. You’re addicted before you’ve even had her.

“This cunt is going to feel so good around my cock.”

Giselle's nodding, slurring together a string of yeses and thank yous in response.

Her pussy’s pulsing around your fingers, juices soaking your hand, she’s already so close. So close that you can almost taste the orgasm on her skin.

“You want it so fucking bad, don’t you, Giselle? Want me to fuck you senseless.”

Her eyes are glazed over, barely there. Just stunningly beautiful even in the midst of her desire, and you’re not even sure she’s heard you at all until she’s panting out, “I want it. Need it. So much. Oh, God, please, fuck me with your cock. Make me cum. Make me scream.”

But you get in close, lips to her cheek, a command for only her to hear. “You’re going to cum all over my hand. You’re going to show me how badly you want it. Understand?”

“Yes—yes, please—” is the most she can manage, a harsh whisper that barely gets through. You feel it more than hear it, a shiver running through her, down her spine and up yours. “Do it. Give me more, I need it.”

She’s nothing short of incredible. Writhing under your touch, losing herself to your fingers—there’s never been anything—anyone—like this. Anyone that runs this hot,  that pleads this much, that is so eager for nothing but you, as much of you as you can give.

There’s no excuse for why it's taken so long to get here, why you let every other opportunity skate by. But now’s not the time for regrets. This is all just catch-up. Getting to this moment that’s been burning a hole in your mind. Making up for all the times when you should’ve been bringing her to her knees, should've been marking her up as yours.

“Mine,” you’re claiming, taking her lips once more, feeling the tremble in her chin. “You’re going to be mine, aren’t you?”

“Yours,” her voice quavers back into your mouth.

She kisses you back like she’s drowning, like you’re the very air she needs to breathe. And it’s all you can do to finger-fuck her faster, pressing deeper into her wetness. It’s filthy, borderline disrespectful the way that you’re owning her now. But it’s all necessary, if that’s what it’s going to take to get to feel her shatter in your arms.

But just as you can feel her hips bucking up off the counter and into your wrist, as she’s about to tip over the edge, you pull back, breaking the kiss, leaving her choking for air.

“Look at me,” you tell her, forcing her glassy eyes to refocus, to snap to yours. “I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to cum so hard for me. You’re going to look at me when you do.”

Giselle opens her mouth answer, but all that comes out is a whiny mewl when you slide your other hand from her tits to the back of her neck, pulling her into you, hard enough that you can feel her pulse drumming against your palm.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” you say to her, adorning her with all these sweet words that absolutely wreck her. And it’s so easy to because all of them fit. Your good girl, your slut, your baby, your whore. She deserves to hear them all. “Take it, take it all for me.”

“Fuck, please, I’m almost—” She tries and fails to put the syllables together—your fingers are too good, too precise in their frenzy. Playing her body, hitting every key, every beat, rushing to that final chorus.

And then it hits her, without warning, just a sigh and then she’s—

“I'm—I'm—cumming!”

Eyes trying to stay on yours, losing focus, turning wild, until she’s barely even there anymore.

Giselle cums.

Locking her in place, rippling across her body. Every muscle tensing, cunt quivering, hips lifting off the bar as her juices paint your hand.

“Thank you, thank you, fucking thank you—"

Her voice dies out, trapped in her throat, her words becoming nonsense as your fingers have her riding waves. You’re utterly transfixed, watching the orgasm rip across her face, melting her down to a messy puddle. Barely hanging on to you, mouth lolling open, eyes screwed shut, breaths coming in sharp and fast.

She’s limbless, her body goes slack, and you debate giving her the space, or even just a second to catch her breath, to come back to reality.

But you just don’t.

You don’t stop moving, don’t stop working her, because something tells you that the last thing she’d want is for you to stop. Something tells you that she’s one of those girls—the ones who love to chase the high. Who love to be pushed, who love to be told that they’re doing so well, that they’re perfect.

And Giselle is.

“Again,” you press into her neck, and she gives you the closest approximation to a nod that she can muster. “Again and again, I’ll make you cum until you can’t walk straight. Until you forget what it was ever like to not have my cock inside you.”

The nods come faster, insistent, following a whine as your fingers slide out of her cunt, all sticky with her juices. You bring it up to her, hold it in front of her face so she can see the mess she’s made of your hand.

Her breath hitches when she opens her eyes, catching sight of your glistening digits. You don’t even need to prompt her; she takes the initiative—she’s sucking your fingers without a second thought.

Moans when she tastes herself, sucking them clean, tongue flicking across your knuckles, pulling them into her mouth, relishing her own flavour.

“So fucking needy for it, aren’t you?”

You withdraw your fingers, enjoying the cry of protest at the loss, but you’ve got better plans for her. Pressing a kiss to her temple, before backing off completely, leaving Giselle empty, her legs wobbly.

You're quick to lose your clothes, stripping yourself off without much ceremony, tossing them aside with little care for where they end up.

And yet Giselle’s eyes rake over you, following your every move—she’s seen you before, you’ve caught her staring at your arms, your biceps, making no secret of assaulting you with her gaze at any chance she can get.

But now it’s the unbuckling of your belt, the vanishing of your jeans, the reveal of your cock. Springing free, hard and heavy.

Giselle wants it. Mouth salivating, pussy leaking at the sight of it. Oh, how she wants it.

It gives her energy, has her reaching out for a touch, a stroke. But you stop her, gently taking her wrist into your hand before she can make her Christmas wish come true.

She even has the audacity to pout. “Haven’t I been good?”

“Good?” You repeat, and you’re laughing. “You’ve been downright angelic.”

The pout quirks into a smirk, and there’s that familiar mischievous spark returning. “Then don't I deserve a little reward?” Giselle’s fingers go to her folds, spreading them apart. Putting her cunt on display, proud to show off how ready she is to be filled. “Like that big, beautiful cock of yours in my perfect little pussy?”

You don’t bother with the usual finesse, there’s no need for that. This doesn’t land anywhere on the normal spectrum of casual hook-ups to making love. This is about fucking. About need, raw and unfiltered.

“So, would you please—"

You’re yanking her by the waist before she can get started, lifting her off the bar and setting her down in front of you. There’s that thrill rushing through her, at being so easily handled, so effortlessly claimed.

She’s panting, breaths fogging up the air between you, waiting for your instruction.

“Get rid of the dress.”

Her compliance is instant—she steps out of her outfit, her panties. Until she’s just standing before you; the charm, the sex appeal, the big beautiful eyes all in view, so full of hope and desperation for the special kind of bliss only you can provide her.

Just Giselle, her fucking gift of a body in a pair of tight black stockings and high stiletto heels.

��Now,” you say, tilting your hips forward, your cock jabbing into her stomach, pressing a stamp of need into her skin. Giselle preens at the contact, practically vibrating at your touch. One more thing— “Beg.”

“Fuck me,” she says. Simply, honestly. With every ounce of her soul. “Fuck me good. Take me. Please. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. I’ve been dreaming of this, of you fucking me just like this, so—please, make it real.”

“Begging’s a good look on you, Giselle,” you murmur, finishing the rest of the thought in your head. ‘You're going to be doing a lot more of it tonight.’

She yelps when you flip her over, force her to brace herself against the bar. Her lovely ass high up in the air, her pussy drooling onto the floor.

You don't bother warning her.

You stuff your cock into her.

She fucking screams.

So wet, so slippery. Sliding in and out of her, forcing her cunt to mould itself too you. So fucking tight that you have to bite back a groan, have to fight the urge to just pound into her, to fuck her into the counter.

But there's still a pace you're setting, a rhythm that’s not quite as frantic as her needy cries. You’re in no hurry, not yet. You want to savour this. The feel of her clenching around you, the way her back arches with every thrust, her palms slapping against the bar top, leaving little smudges of sweat behind.

“God, this—” Giselle tries, but finds herself lost for words, unable to properly articulate just how good it feels to have you inside her. But the noises she makes—whimpers and gasps and moans and groans—speak volumes.

You complete the thought for her— “You fucking love this, don’t you?” You’re grunting, pressing your body to hers, nipping at her ear. Slurring these dirty thoughts like they're sweet nothings, these words of pure filth into her neck. “Love being fucked like this. Been waiting for it for so long. So goddamn desperate for it that you can’t even fucking talk.”

She’s fucking amazing. Not just the feeling—hot and tight and perfect—it’s the way she moves with you. Pure pleasure ricocheting through her, the slap of her ass against your hips, the sway of her tits underneath her, her cunt desperately trying to swallow you whole.

It’s her, her body, so alive and responsive and sensitive underneath yours. Taking your cock so deliciously, her cunt fluttering around like it’s trying to hold onto it, like it’s never going to let go.

“So, so fucking hard,” she’s found her voice, clawing back some level of composure. Enough to tense her cunt, squeeze her walls around you. Needing you to know every inch of her body, every inch of her pussy, needing you to know that it’s all yours for the taking. “God, it feels so good—doesn’t it? Fucking me here. Tell me. Tell me how good I am. Tell me I’m a good girl. Tell me you’re never going to be able to spend another second here without thinking of my pussy.”

You know she’s right, she’s leaving a part of herself here, branded into the very fabric of this bar that’s been your sanctuary. It has you pushing in deeper, a violent thrust of your hips, a little punctuation to drive her point home.

She swallows as you pick up speed, chokes on a half-formed moan—so, so fucking close. But you’ve only just begun.

Grabbing her hair, winding your fist in pink, pulling her up so she's forced to listen. The details on her face are all hazy, her makeups smudged from tears, from where she’s rubbed at her face, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. But that’s not how this goes. That’s not how any of this goes.

“You want to hear how good you’re being for me?” A harsh whisper for her, and it takes so much effort for her to just nod in response. “You want me to tell you all the filthy things I’m thinking? Everything that I’ve been dying to do to you?”

“Yes,” she pleads back. “Tell me, please—I need to hear it all.”

So you do. You lay it all on her. Every unfiltered, explicit thought you’ve had—every depraved fantasy that’s on the tip of your tongue whenever she’s around. You tell her all of it, how much of a whore you’re going to turn her into; how much of a slut you want to make her.

How this isn’t the last time. No, there’s going to be hours, days, weeks of this after.  Of you fucking her here, of her coming to you just to have another taste of your cock. It’s a revelation, a promise, and it fucking ruins her.

“Every single time you've walked into here, every single time you've sat across form me, I've thought about this," you're grunting now, giving in to the urgency that’s been building up in your chest, the pressure that’s been weighing on you for what feels like an eternity. “I’ve thought about bending you over this very bar. Making you beg for it, making you scream out my name when I fuck my cum into you. Making sure every single person out there knows that this cunt is mine to take whenever I fucking want.”

It’s so fucked, the effect that hearing all this has on her. The sound of your voice, your darkest desires, the harshness of your words, it’s all too much for her, it’s everything she’s ever wanted to be told.

You’re unlocking something in her, something she’s never admitted to anyone, not her closest friends, not her bandmates, not even herself. The way you speak to her, the way you’re treating her like a perfect little fuck doll—and you’re realising that maybe, just maybe, it’s because no one’s ever fucked her well enough to find out.

There’s no room here to be gentle, there’s no way in hell she’d ever want you to be. You tighten your grip in your hair, slam into her harder, skin slapping against skin, mixing with the wet sounds of her pussy taking all of you. Each cry you fuck out of her is music, each one a little higher pitched, a little more desperate than the last.

“This is what you want isn’t it?” You’re demanding of her, even when she’s blubbering, barely able to breathe let alone respond. Just trying to hold on.

But you’re not letting her.

You’re taking her to that place that’s beyond words, that’s beyond thought. The place where all she can do is feel and react. And she’s doing that so beautifully, her body shaking, her cunt quivering around your cock. It’s building and building, the things you’re doing to her, saying to her, making her choke on her own spit, making her eyes roll back and her mouth drop open, until all she can repeat, over and over again is your name.

“Again,” she shapes another word, another plea. She’s a total disaster of need. “Please, again, make me cum again.”

“You'll cum when I say you can,” you growl, forcing her to choke on another whine. The strangled noise goes straight to your cock; makes it throb harder inside her, drive deeper into her. You let go of her hair, only to palm her tit, squeezing into the flesh hard. Giselle jolts, a squeal escaping her lips. “But since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you cum before me again. Just this once. Just because it’s Christmas.”

You’re being evil, you know it, she loves it, but it's the best part. She clearly wouldn't want it any other way.

”Yes.” Giselle’s beaming, shivering with excitement. Getting fucked into utter ruins and thanking you for the privilege. “Thank you, use my pussy, do whatever you want, just let me cum.”

That sparks an idea, “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” Giselle pants, not a single idea of what she’s agreeing to. But maybe that's the whole point. “Anything.”

There’s a grin that splits your face that you can’t help, that you don’t bother suppressing. “I’m not going to ask for permission anymore, Giselle. I’m just going to fuck you the way I want. Make you addicted to my cock. Take you how I want, cum in all your holes, fill you up over and over again.”

Giselle’s eyes go wide, nearly stops breathing entirely. So close. Knowing that the next words out of your mouth are going to decimate her completely.

“Gonna make you start the New Year knocked up.”

She freezes.

“God—” Giselle’s a fucking wreck, on the verge of something explosive, something else entirely. “Oh my God.”

She just needs you to give her that push.

“You love it, don’t you? Being made nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

You’re fucking her too hard, hammering into her too roughly, it’s a wonder that she can even manage a stuttered, “I—I—”

“Fucking say it, Giselle,” you say, “Spit it out.”

It’s too difficult for her to fit the words together, to form her reply, so it means all that more when she manages to tell you. “I want it.”

“Want what?”

“Your cum in me. All of it. Until I’m, until I’m—” She’s there, lost in it, in the idea of you ruining her in such a permanent, irreversible way. Or maybe completing her, making her whole, making her perfect for you and only you.

But you’re so close too. Right fucking behind her. All she has to do is say it.

“Until you breed me. Fill me with your cum, give it to me. I need it. Make me your permanent cocksleeve and never let me go. Make me yours—completely, forever yours. Make me your fucking whore.”

“Good girl.”

And with that, she’s gone.

Hits her like a fucking meteor. Leaping right off the most intense high she’s ever climbed. Bucking and quaking against your bar, your cock still impaled inside her, mercilessly undoing her. It’s nothing short of fucking pornographic, fucking depraved the way it’s destroying her.

Seizing her entire body in pleasure, her nails digging into the wood, scraping up marks that will prove to be a sweet, everlasting reminder of the exact moment she became yours. Fracturing her, breaking her apart into a million tiny pieces and then remaking her all over again as something purely sexual—something that only exists for your satisfaction.

“So fucking good, your cock, God it’s you, just you—” Giselle’s words dissolve into a keening cry that shatters the remaining silence of the bar. “Breeding me so good—”

Nothing short of a miracle that she’s still on her feet, that she can still do anything at all. One last thing she needs to do in the dying embers of her lucidity, one final goal—choke your cock with her cunt, wring you dry, make you flood her with your cum.

“Cum, cum, fill me, breed me, give me your—”

“Take it,” you exhale, “Take it all.”

And it’s Giselle in her entirety that overcomes you, overloading your senses with the pure, distilled feeling of just her. The smell of her sex, her perfume, the feel of her curves, her softness, the perfection that is her pussy, enveloping your cock, drenching it in her wetness. These things that you’ll never, ever be able to forget.

But it's her words that make you erupt.

“Breed me, Daddy!”

You cum deep into Giselle’s pussy.

Buried inside her, rushing white hot, thick and heavy. Ropes and ropes of it, spurting inside her, painting her insides, coating her walls until it’s just sheer heat and you making her whole.

Her cunt’s clenching around you, she’s begging, slurring moans and whimpers that there’s no fucking chance you have of comprehending—just basking in the knowledge that they’re desperate, needy sounds that are all for you.

She can’t keep it all in. But she needs to.

Something knocks the architecture out of her legs, but you’re quick enough to wrap your arms around her, holding her tight, keep her on her feet. Keeping her from collapsing entirely, just letting her pulse around you, clench and quiver.

You’re kissing her into the shoulder, cooing these affirmations, keeping her with you, telling her the truth of it all, “Such a good girl, Giselle. Taking my cum so well.”

Giselle can’t say anything. She sobs. Face buried in her hands. Not from pain, not even close. You’ve never seen pleasure look so much like agony. So much like release.

It’s overwhelming.

You try to make a move, take a step back. But Giselle flexes her cunt, clutching you tighter. Reaches back with her hand for your thigh to stop you.

“Wait,” she whispers. "Not yet. Don't move. Keep your cock inside me. Don't let a single drop get out."

You give her the time, because she’s just so perfect like this. So unfathomably gorgeous, all fucked up and cum-drunk. In ways no one should ever be. Like you’ve torn the wings off an angel, brought her down to Earth and made her yours.

You revel in it.

“Take your time,” you breathe; the exhaustion, the strain, the adrenaline pumping through your veins all coming to a head at once. Keeping your cock plugging up her cunt. Leaving all your cum inside.

Neither of you are moving anywhere. Not until she says so.

Giselle laughs.

“Perfect,” she sighs, voice hoarse and shaky. “I knew it would be perfect. I knew you would ruin me like this. God, I don’t ever want to go back.”

You’re laughing too, harsh, airless chuckles that feel like they’re being torn out of your chest. You twitch your cock inside her. “You think you have a say in the matter?”

“I guess I don’t,” she giggles.

You look around at the scene of the crime, the evidence you've left on her. The marks on her skin, her shoulder, her neck. The ruins of her dress, her panties. The tearing of her stockings. Her tear-filled eyes, her smeared mascara, her drooling lips.

And her cunt, so full of you, so very yours.

It’s barely believable. She may not have burned down the bar, but there’s certainly a fire that’s been set. One that’s not likely to die down anytime soon.

It has you swelling inside her all over again.

Gisele feels it.

“Say,” she starts, wriggling her hips against you, making you groan. “You didn’t have any Christmas plans, right?”

Your hands slip down to her hips, idly massaging into the small of her back. “None at all.”

Giselle’s laughter subsides into a contented exhale, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you with a soft smile. Her hand reaches back, caressing the side of your face. “And the rest of the year?”

“Nothing that can’t be cancelled.”

“Good,” she says, her breath sweet against your cheek. “Cancel them all. Close up for the holidays. Shut all the doors. Stay inside with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And do what?”

“Get to work,” Giselle answers, pulling you into a last kiss, threatening to undo you all over again. “You did promise to knock me up by New Years.”

[hxney-lemcn]

First Kiss — The Leftovers x gn! reader

summery: your first kiss with your lover.

tw: none.

a/n: I wasn't sure what to call the students who aren't vice/housewardens so now they're deemed the leftovers (sorry Cater 😔). Also, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

wc: 2.6k (~340 per character)

Master List | Housewardens | Vicehousewardens

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Cater Diamond

The atmosphere was warm and soft as you both were hanging out in Cater’s room, is what I would like to say, but it was anything but that. You and Cater decided to have a ‘picnic’ (it wasn’t planned, you both bought your lunches and went to eat in the courtyard) and apparently your confession was a little too hot. What did your blabbermouth happen to say (was it really a blabbermouth if you were just telling a trusted friend something personal)? Well, you happened to let slip that you haven’t had your first kiss yet, and for some reason Cater couldn’t wrap his head around that. He didn’t seem to know how to react, mouth opening and closing as he doubted your sentence. You were so pretty and he found himself falling for you so easily, so the thought of no one else seeing you the way he does left him flabbergasted. And the juicy gossip he was (he just needed to understand this better), he kept prying; ‘weren’t you curious?’ yes, ‘has no one asked to?’ no, ‘has no one asked you out?’ no. That last went sent him on a whole other spiral, but he tried to store that in his head for another time. By the end of his little interrogation, he felt frustrated for you. And sevens, that bashful, saddened look made his heart plummet, and gosh did he want to kiss you silly, to prove whatever false things were rattling in your mind at that moment were wrong, and it seemed that Cater’s control was slipping, the suggestion spilling past his lips before he could stop it; ‘we could kiss, just so you know what it feels like.’ His heart leapt as you eyed him like you were actually pondering it, and that little nod of your head made his heart race. The kiss was soft, hesitant, unsure, but sweet. Hands were kept to themselves, unsure how far you were both willing to cross the line, and as you pulled away, the both of you could only long for more.

“W-well, if th-there’s any other firsts you want to break, caycay’s always here~”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Deuce Spade

The both of you just had the most spectacular date, you had a ton of fun and Deuce seemed to enjoy himself as well. The boy had been a blushing mess, tripping over words and trying to be as gentlemanly as possible, and you were eating up the cute display. He had argued that he couldn’t let you walk home alone, and so there you stood, on your doorstep just a few inches taller than normal. Deuce watched diligently, like there was a chance you would get hurt in the two steps it would take you to get inside (after what you experienced on campus it was a very real fear). You smiled softly at the dark haired boy, thanking him for the wonderful date. In return he managed to blush once more, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to formulate a proper response. So, to tease the poor guy some more, you leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek, watching on in amusement as Deuce seemed to shut down. You hid your cheeky grin behind your hand as he spluttered, trying to say something, but he managed to cut you off guard as he stared in wonder, face a bright red, muttering out ‘could…could you do that again?’. Who were you to deny him? Holding his cheeks, you placed another kiss, this time on the corner of his lips before you found yourself showering his entire face in kisses. You weren’t sure where all this affection was coming from, but neither of you were complaining. As you pulled away once more, you bit your lip before acting on impulse and leaving the lightest, barely there peck on his lips.

“I-I…u-uh…th-thank you. I…I hope we can go on another date…soon.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ace Trappola

You were rightfully pissed. Ace had been teasing you nonstop about how ‘nobody wanted to date you’, and honestly? It was starting to get under your skin, your old (and normal) insecurities popping up once more. You have been working on it! And just like that he had erased your hard work in improving your mental health. And so what were you doing? Giving him the silent treatment. If he was going to be a jerk then you were going to ignore him. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle it, as Ace had been finding any and every way to get on your nerves. You clenched your fist as Ace continued to poke your cheek. You were either going to bite his finger off or twist his arm behind his back if he was going to keep this up. It wasn’t until he asked the dreaded question; ‘what did he do to get you so angry?’ The dam had been broken, and you found yourself venting all your frustrations on him, from his insults to how it affected you, it was all released. The look of horror on the ginger’s face made you feel somewhat satisfied. You were a bit surprised when he apologized so heartfeltly, he genuinely looked appalled at his own behavior for once. It was only a few weeks later when things took a turn. Ace was sleeping at your dorm, and the two of you were hanging out when he asked an out of pocket question; ‘do you wanna kiss?’ It was late, he was too tired to keep his filter up, and gosh did you look kissable (it was the main reason why he was teasing you in the first place). Against your better judgment, you agreed. The kiss was awkward, neither of you sure how far to go, but you’re kinda angry at how much you liked it.

“...you’re better at that than I thought…n-not that I think of kissing you or anything-”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Jack Howl

You watched the weirdo in front of you with a blank face, wishing you could be anywhere but there. This guy decided he wanted to flirt with you, and he was doing it in the worst way possible. I mean who tries to pick someone up by asking to kiss them outright? You kept glancing at Jack, who stood intimidatingly next to you, buff arms crossed as he glared at the guy, but made no move to say anything. You felt a sneer fall over your lips unconsciously as the guy continued to try and shoot his shot, couldn’t he see he was getting nowhere? You tried to let him down nicely before, so this time you decided to be more blunt, stating that you weren’t interested and you don’t just go out kissing people. That was when the guy lashed out, crying out about how you were a jerk, that you were just like everyone else who only cared about themselves. It was when he looked like he was reaching out for you, and you flinched back for Jack to step in (quite literally). Standing in front of you his glare turned dangerous, fangs showing as he snarled, telling the guy to get lost. The both of you finally relaxed when the guy scrambled to get away, leaving you with the wolf beastman. ‘Thank you,’ You muttered, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. A smug smile tugged at your lips as Jack glanced away, a soft pink dusting his tanned cheeks. ‘Oh, did I miss?’ you teased, eyes catching the way his ear twitched. So, as the merciful person you were, you leaned up and left a small, short, gentle kiss to his lips.

“Hm, i-if you find yourself in need of help, d-don’t be afraid to come to me.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Floyd Leech

You had already found yourself in a tough predicament. You were in the clutches of Floyd Leech when he was in a bad mood. Sure, he was the one who sought you out to squeeze, but you wanted to make sure you didn’t make it worse in any way. So you resigned yourself to your fate as his personal human plushie as he squeezed you from time to time, burying his face in your neck as he grumbled on unintelligently about one thing and another. You brushed your hands through his hair, placing small kisses to the top of his head here and there, feeling relieved as he started to melt in your hold, teeth scraping against your skin as he smiled. You shivered at the sensation, hair on end once more. ‘Oh shrimpy~’ he cooed, giggling like a mad man, face suddenly very much in your own. ‘I wanna kiss’. The request was simple, blunt, but it still left you reeling. You weren’t sure why, in fact, you should be surprised it took so long for him to ask for one, but you still found your eyes widening and breath hitching at the spontaneity of it all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it (you suppose that was the appeal to Floyd). You could barely get out the words okay before Floyd pressed his lips to yours in a harsh manner, teeth clashing, lips being bit, hand on the back of your head so you couldn’t pull away. In fact, he wouldn’t stop kissing you, it seemed like forever until he finally got his fill.

“Hehe, you better watch out shrimpy~ I’m already craving another.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Epel Felmier

Your eyes widened as you eyed the intricately carved apple, turning it around to catch every detail. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve such a gift, but you were flattered nonetheless, your eyes finally raising up to meet Epel’s cyan ones. He looked bashful, cheeks tinted a light pink, eyes unable to meet your own. He tripped over his words, trying to make an excuse, stating that no one else was around so you might as well have it (you’ll ignore the fact that there were, in fact, people swarming around the cafeteria like flies). Without a second thought, you gave him a short peck on the cheek and continued business as usual. It wasn’t until Epel kept doing things for you, something that had only recently started. Epel…wasn’t mean by any means, but he also wasn’t one to help someone from the kindness of his heart. Sure, he’d do something for you before while complaining a ton, but recently he had been doing things without you even asking! It was strange, and he always seemed expectant afterwards, like he was expecting you to do something. Not to mention the little pout he thought he hid when you didn’t seem to do what he was anticipating. So, you decided to confront him, asking him outright what he wanted. Of course, he deflected, stating that he didn’t want anything and you were being crazy. A claim he wasn’t able to hide behind for long as you pointed out all the strange ways he’s been acting. Face burning red, Epel turned away, trying to keep his composure, but you seemed to be determined to break it. Your serious gaze locked onto his figure, there was no getting away from this now. And so, he admitted meekly that he wanted a kiss, and who were you to deny him? With a playful grin, you placed a kiss to his lips, reveling in the way he pushed against you like he was desperate (he had been waiting for this for so long). Pulling away, you teased that he only needed to ask if he wanted another kiss.

“I-I…d-damn, fine…do ya think we could do that again?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Silver Vanrouge

A warm breeze tousled Silver’s white locks, his steel grey eyes hidden behind his shut eyelids. His head rested in your lap, face pressed into your thighs. Squirrels and song birds fluttered around you, a small chickadee nestled on the top of your head. It was peaceful, a nice change of pace from your usual chaotic days. As beautiful as the scenery was around you, with green grass fluttering in the wind and colorful flowers swaying about, your gaze couldn’t help but fall down to the occupant in your lap. How his lashes kissed his cheeks, how the sun made his hair shine, how soft his skin was under the pads of your fingers. Silver has become the most breathtaking sight in your eyes, and the bird that roosted in your hair seemed to agree as it let out a soft series of cheeps that smoothed into a blissful melody. You couldn’t help but think about how much better your life has become once he entered your life, how sweet and protective he was, how sassy he could be when his father made an offer to cook. You had come to love all his quirks, how he could drift off to sleep in even the loudest environment or how he’d try to stay up just for you. Unable to hold your affections in for much longer, you placed a kiss against his cheek, heart fluttering when Silver’s lips tugged into a smile. So what else would you do besides lavish his face in sweet kisses? His eyes fluttered open, and you couldn’t help the huge grin that fell on your lips as he looked up at you affectionately. You greeted him with a kiss to the corner of his lips, a cheesy good morning following. The way he stared at you made your heart flutter and stomach tie in knots, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sleepily, Silver followed your lips without a second thought connecting them in a warm kiss before pulling away sharply, eyes wide as he apologized for not asking for consent, only to be shut up by your lips meeting once more.

“So it's not a dream…thank you.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Sebek Zigvolt

You felt your eye twitch, trying your hardest to keep your composure. It felt like one step forward ten steps backwards when it came to Sebek. You thought you’d finally got to him in some way, only for him to be shouting at you once more for the same thing the next day. Which was happening right now, with him yelling at you about being some lowly human. Just the other day you had a one on one about how those comments hurt you, and he seemed to genuinely understand, so why the hell was he shouting at you again. You had tried throwing insults back, you had tried communicating like a mature person, you had even slapped him once and stormed away in tears! What the hell did you need to do to get through to this hard headed crocodile? Your glare turned sharp as Sebek continued, rambling on about one thing or another. Your exasperation taking over, you grabbed his tie, pulling his face close to yours as you sneered. You were so upset, you didn’t even notice how your noses were touching, instead tearing into Sebek instead. You also didn’t realize how Sebek turned silent, golden green eyes locked onto your figure, cheeks slowly but surely turning bright red. You let out a huff as your rant ended, raising an eyebrow at the half fae’s current state, then suddenly it clicked and an evil grin upturned your lips. Curling your fingers around his tie, you inched your face even closer (somehow), lips hovering over the other. You debated if you should do the evil thing, pull away and leave him hanging, but you also had the urge to kiss him stupid…letting your own desires win, you pushed your lips together in a heated kiss. Sebek was stiff as a board, but slowly melted into the kiss, only for you to pull away, biting his lip in the process.

“Wh-where are you going, human! You cannot k-kiss a knight and walk away without an explanation! H-hey! W-wait up-”

[tkiesai]

Can you imagine how confused and sad Danny would be to lose his partner so suddenly? He's just...gone. What could have happened to him? Did his ghost pass on? Is that a thing? Did he get captured? Get bored and decide to leave?

I can imagine Danny looking everywhere he could to try and find his partner only to feel devastated and maybe a little guilty when he can't find him.

Maybe sometime down the road after Jason does all the crime lord things, Danny gets captured by the GIW and is brought to Gotham for one reason or another and Jason just starts feeling this familiar pull(I'm thinking with the pit madness, he doesn't fully remember his ghostly adventures with Phantom) and finds Danny or the GIW(depending on what they have done/are doing to Danny)

Danny: You wanna go beat some ghost ass with me?

Jason, pointedly quite dead, very used to beating ass with Batman and now with super cool ghost powers: HELL YEAH 🔥🔥

and that's how Danny Phantom ends up with a vigilante partner for 6 whole months before his partner seemingly vanishes from the Infinite realms.

[noxxuniverse]

LOA cannot be fake nor can you fail at it.

Yes, you read the title right.

Welcome to another LOA lesson coming from yours truly. I will be discussing today why The Law of Assumption can't be fake nor can you fail at it.

I recently got an ask, which I'm sure some of you read, where they said "the law of assumption doesn't work" and that it wasn't real and blah blah blah (no hate to the person who sent the ask in the first place btw). Babes, I'm going to hold your hand when I tell you this. You've been doing it your whole life. Yes, the one thing you lot find really hard for whatever reason, is something you've been doing forever and ever. It is how the very world around you, even exists in the first place.

The Law of Assumption is a LAW where everything you assume to be true, is true. Think back on things that have happened where you've been so certain this one thing is going to happen and then it did. That is an example of LOA. What are you reading this post on? Boom, an assumption. You believe you're reading this on your device, so that's how it's being shown. Still don't understand?

When you walk into your room, do you expect there to be nothing? Just an endless void? No. You expect there to be your room because you assume that, that is your room. Every single thing in your life is an assumption, you just weren't aware of it until now.

So why are you complicating it? You're just aware of your power now, so use it!! Stop procrastinating, stop begging other people to help you, simply just GET IT. You already have it!!

LOA cannot fail you, because it always has to show you what you focus on. If you want logic, it's because of something called the Reticular Activating System. It's in your brain, where whatever you tell yourself, you HAVE to see it. When you say to yourself, "Let me see if I can find anything pink in my room" your mind immediately looks at pink things in your room making you aware of it. That is RAS.

The point is, the more you consistently tell yourself something, the more you FOCUS on something, the more you're going to see it. How does this relate with LOA? Well, you're thinking in your favour, in your mind, you are thinking as if you have your desire. Therefore, your mind HAS to show you. That's it! It's THAT simple. You focus on the fact you already have it and boom, you'll have it.

[freezeris]

⋆⁺₊❅.🎄personal astro observations ii🎄⋆⁺₊❅.

❗️Just a heads up: I'm not a professional, just an amateur, and these are going to be largely based on my first-hand experiences and people I know. Unfortunately I've had a lot of unfavorable experiences in my earlier life, so there will be a good amount of negative points I make about some placements, but in no way does this mean I think everyone who has these will express them in this way. We all have all 12 signs in our charts, so to hate any one of the archetypes would be detrimental to one's own growth, I think. Also: I mostly use tropical astrology and the placidus house system, so most observations will be based on that.

🎄 I'm sorry Aquarius Moon/Venus, but you are not beating the allegations... 👩‍⚖️ Not to be another person getting on Aquarius Moon/Venus' ass, but them ghosting you as soon as you show too much interest in them is SO real. 😭 If you're interested in one it's probably best to let them do most of the courting/pursuing and let them set the pace.

Aquarius is also ruled by Saturn, after all, so similar to Capricorn they can be more attracted if there's an element of challenge or difficulty in making the relationship work. Although they may not be aware or willing to admit it. 😅 This is why you often see them with partners who are way older, bad boys, rebels or outcasts in some way. Taylor Swift, especially in her youth, was such a good example of this and she is an Aquarius Venus. I mean: the song "Ours" is so fitting for this placement. 😭

That being said, these people usually make for great friends. 💗 It's just hard for them to date/marry because they prefer to naturally transition from friends to lovers without making a big deal of it. Honestly you might be better off not trying to have the "what are we?" conversation if you don't want to risk having them run off to da milk store......even though they're lactose intolerant........😭

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*

🎄 One reason why I find the Placidus house system so interesting is because of Interceptions and duplicate houses. I have a Gemini – Sagittarius Interception in the 4H – 10H Axis, and I definitely feel as though I was "denied" the traits of these signs in my self-expression. I was actively discouraged from being too curious or questioning of the worldview the adults around me tried to instill in me. My curiousity and zest for exploration & expansion was not nurtured at all. These themes simply weren't present in my upbringing. We never even took a single trip together as family, which is such a direct way for this Interception to manifest. 😅

Interceptions happen when your Midheaven is in a sign that trines or sextiles your Ascendant, instead of doing the normal square. So if you are an Aries Rising, the "normal" layout would call for Capricorn to be your MC, but it's also possible for it to fall in Aquarius instead. (Although this particular combination is very rare and not every combination is possible.) In that case some of the house cusps will be out of order and one pair of sister signs ends up being skipped, while another gets duplicated.

🎄Staying on the topic of Midheaven: when you have it in a sign that's not "normal" for your Ascendant to be paired with, and you look at your chart in the Whole Sign System, you'll notice that it will fall either in your 9th or 11th house, instead of your 10th.

🎄I've noticed that people with their MC in the 9th are more likely to be remembered for things that happened very early in their career or life in general. They are often more associated with how they got to their current point in life, than how they are doing right now. In celebrities I often see this as the media being obsessed with the one performance or song the star delivered in their youth, but not so much caring about the projects they do later in life. 😅

This isn't me calling anyone with this placement "washed up" or saying they peak early, it's just that people are obsessed with the things these natives did earlier in their career, to the point where it can overshadow their later achievements. I have this too, so I'm in the same boat. 🥲 But the good thing about MC in the 9th House is that it's easier to lay low and maintain a good reputation. As long as you weren't involved in too many scandalous things in your youth, at least.

Some examples:

🎄Dylan & Cole Sprouse (Virgo ASC + Taurus MC) who are still most famous for starring in "The Suite Life of Zack & Cody".

🎄Uma Thurman (Virgo ASC + Taurus MC) who is most associated with her roles in Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill.

🎄Dakota Fanning (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC), was the youngest child actor to receive a SAG nomination, and is largely associated with the roles she took very early on in her career.

🎄Lorde (Capricorn ASC + Virgo MC) released "Royals" when she was 16/17 years young and it's still her most popular single to date.

🎄Robert Pattinson, (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC) he's most associated with his role in Twilight, even though he's been landing other big roles as well, like him taking up the mantle as the new Batman.

🎄Mariah Carey (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC) and her most well-known singles were released decades ago.

🎄Ben Affleck (Cancer ASC + Pisces MC), the roles he's most associated with are from films in the 90s and early 2000s.

🎄Johnny Depp (Leo ASC + Aries MC), his most iconic roles are from movies made in the 90s & early 2000s.

₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°･*

🎄Meanwhile people with their MC in the 11th House, I've noticed, are more likely to have a big breakthrough later in their career. Their reputation tends to shift more frequently as well. Often they are also heavily associated with philantrophy, social justice or how they revolutionized something in their field/the world in general. These natives tend to be more active and popular on social media as well, compared to MC in the 9H.

Some examples:

🎄Chris Evans (Scorpio ASC + Virgo MC) and he had his big breakthrough moment in the 2010s as Captain America, and has enjoyed a lot more popularity from that point onwards.

🎄Antony Starr (Leo ASC + Gemini MC), had been an actor for decades before he took his big role as Homelander.

🎄Ariana Grande (Capricorn ASC + Scorpio MC), of course she is still quite young and has already risen to prominence in her teens/twenties, but her fame and relevancy only seems to be increasing with every year.

🎄Margot Robbie (Cancer ASC + Taurus MC), had her big break in 2013, due to her role in Wolf of Wall Street, and has only continued to cement herself as a popular actor since. The recent Barbie Movie is what really pushed her into the Mainstream.

🎄J.K. Rowling (Aquarius ASC + Sagittarius MC), we all know by now it took her a while to have her breakthrough. Over the years she's been very vocal on social media and her reputation has changed quite a bit. She went from mostly being known as a beloved childrens book author to someone who fights transwomen with tooth and nail... Yet the Harry Potter franchise still continues to grow in popularity, because it has a broad appeal and a lot of people feel nostalgic for it, having grown up with the series.

🎄This one is not 100% confirmed, but I still wanted to bring it up: Taylor Swift (suspected to be a Scorpio ASC + Virgo MC). I personally think this makes sense for multiple reasons. Of course she's always been successful ever since her debut, but her fame only keeps increasing. Even she didn't think she was ever gonna get bigger than she was back at her first peak in 2014, but clearly that has been proven wrong when The Eras Tour rolled around. Her reputation & public reception has changed a lot over the years as well. In part this is definitely due to her strong Scorpio energy (which she would still have even if she wasn't a Scorpio Rising), but having MC in the 11th and in a mutable sign like Virgo can also add to this. She's always been very present on social media, as well. Particularly in the earlier days of her career she was fairly active on MySpace, Tumblr and Twitter.

🎄Not fully confirmed either: but Pedro Pascal said he is either a Gemini or Cancer Rising. His MC would most likely fall in Aries either way, but I'm leaning more towards him being a Gemini Rising. This would also put his MC in his 11th House in Whole Sign, and it's certainly true for him that he has only had his big break in acting less than a decade ago. His popularity only continues to skyrocket with time.

🎄Sidenote: It's VERY RARE, but sometimes it's even possible to have your MC falling in your 8th or 12th house. I know a few celebrities who have, for example, a Gemini Rising with a Capricorn Midheaven, which would fall in their 8H in Whole Signs. I wanted to give a quick acknowledgement that this is also a possibility.

🎄 Paul Mescal is the most obvious Saturn dominant man I've ever seen. All of his planets, except for Pluto & Moon, are either in Saturn-ruled signs or conjunct his Saturn. We don't know his birth time, but no matter what his chart ruler is, Saturn will always be really dominant in his chart. 🪐

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🎄Having Pluto in the 4th or Pluto square Moon could mean your Mother started out as being really controlling, and then somewhere down the line did the opposite thing and abandoned you. Or the opposite scenario happened, where she wasn't very present in the early childhood of her children, but suddenly feels the need to insert herself once they're older. A good fictional example of the latter situation would by Lyra from His Dark Materials and her Mother Marisa Coulter. Pluto rules over extremes and control (issues), so when it touches the Moon or 4th House the mother tends to act in very extreme & controlling ways.

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🎄I would recommend against dating/being close friends with someone who has their Saturn in the same modality as most of your personal planets, especially when it squares. Or rather, you might notice that when you try to, you just don't feel comfortable opening up to them in the first place.

Saturn is where we can have the highest standards and biggest insecurities, causing us to be extremely critical of people who have placements in the same modality as our Saturn.

Unfortunately most of my family members have mutable Saturns, while I'm a mutabe dominant, so I've never felt comfortable being myself with them and they never really appreciated me. For me the ideal partner would probably have a cardinal Saturn, as I only have one cardinal placement. They'd be better off not having too many fixed personal planets themselves, though, since I'm a fixed Saturn and obviously I don't want to constantly feel critical of my partner and closest friends either. 😅

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🎄I've noticed some Gemini/Mercury dominant natives really have a thing for Bees and pollinators. I knew a Gemini Sun, Virgo Rising who said they were her favorites and even got a tattoo of one. She would often try to rescue them too. 🐝

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🎄I've noticed Pisces dominants, especially Pisces Venus, tend to prefer media that is more lighthearted and family friendly. They're pretty sensitive to negative energies, so they don't usually like saturating their minds with too much dark & serious stuff. It can really weigh on them and cause nightmares. It's also probably due to being exalted in Venus, which is a planet that mostly relates to pleasant energies. So Taurus & Libra dominants could also be like this, but for Pisces it's usually more emotionally intense as a water sign.

🎄 Mars in the 9th often gets this rep of forcing their own views on others, and it for sure can manifest this way. But I will say as someone with this placement myself, that I've CONSTANTLY been on the receiving end of this treatment, but I've never actually tried to do this myself because I fucking loathe when someone does that. I notice with this placement that if you (as the 9th House Mars person) don't stand firm in your beliefs, you'll have so many mfers come at you and try to bully you into taking on their belief system. 😭 I guess this is because where your Mars sits you invite in conflict and shows of dominance the most from other people. If you're not adamant and dominant enough in your beliefs, someone else will try to dominate that area of your life for you. You really gotta say: "No I don't take criticism, fuck off! 👊💥👊💥👊💥"

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🎄 8H Suns can sometimes have a father that is considered wealthy because the Sun = Father and 8H = inheritances. However, I will say as a 8H Sun myself, my father/family has always lived pretty close to the poverty line (although it could've been worse and I'm grateful for what I did have growing up), BUT when I compare my father to his parents and siblings, he is indeed the most successful person in his family. I'd say it's the same with Moon in 8H = having a (relatively) wealthy mother. A lot of things in astrology are relative compared to the persons family and peers, so not everyone with this will be RICH rich.

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🎄 Another thing that an 8H Sun/Moon could indicate is having a parent who is often physically (sometimes emotionally) absent from the natives life. It doesn't have to be straight up abandonment, it can also show up as the parent just traveling a lot for work or spending a lot of time at work. It doesn't always have to be in the natives childhood either. Sometimes they will have their parent for most of their childhood, but then the native themself moves away to a different city or country for boarding school/college/work/other reasons and could really miss their parents because of it. Sun or Moon in the 12th can experience this too, from what I've seen. The traveling/long distance aspect would apply even more strongly to the 12th House placements.

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🎄I often see Cancer Rising & a dominant Moon in the Solar Return Chart be cited as a strong indicator for conceiving/birthing children. And that's true, but I've rarely seen people mention Venus dominance in the SR chart being an indicator of this as well.

Because when I checked when my mother gave birth to both me and my sister, she had a Taurus & Libra ASC respectively. In the Taurus Rising SR her Venus (Chart Ruler) fell in her 5th house, along with the Sun & North Node.

In the Libra Rising SR she didn't have the Chart Ruler in the 5th or 4th, but she did have Venus conjunct Jupiter, Juno & North Node (in the 9th) + Uranus in the 5th. The Moon was also conjunct IC but from the 3rd house. And indeed, my sister was not a planned addition to the family, as Uranus would suggest.

🎄Cancer & Leo are the only-children of the Zodiac. They are basically meant to be the most "selfish" signs since they are ruled by the Luminaries (Sun & Moon) which are the most egoic planets. They are also the only signs to not share a planetary ruler with any other sign, hence why I lovingly call them "only children" lol. 😂 I can't stress enough that when I say this I don't mean it as an insult. It's just what the signs and their ruling planets represent. Ego isn't all bad. Plus, that's why they have the Saturn ruled signs (Capricorn and Aquarius) as their sister signs. They're here to make sure Leo and Cancer don't become blind to their surroundings, since Saturn and Capricorn + Aquarius rule over institutions, communities and societal structure, while the Moon/Cancer and Sun/Leo are very "self" & survival based.

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🎄 If you lack a certain element or modality in your chart, you'll probably feel more attracted to people dominant in this energy as well. I have very little fire and air energy, so most of the people that felt drawn to me or that I felt drawn to were dominant in it.

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🎄Very specific, but if you have a T-square you can also find yourself attracting people who have placements in the "empty leg" sign. Basically the sign opposite to the planet that receives the squares. In my case that would be Gemini, and that's probably the sign I used to attract the most. 😂

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🎄I don't know that many Capricorn Moons, and I've never had a super close relationship with one, but those that I have known were usually really sweet to me. Maybe that's just my impression because I'm also an Earth Moon, so we trine and naturally have easy rapport. But based on all the descriptions I've read y'all made them sound so cold and scary? 😭 Well they don't seem to be with me. 😌💅 Might also be in part because they fall in my 5H. Other people's placements in your 5th house will have a hard time resisting being more open and silly around you. 🐐 🎊

I mean, apparently everyone's favorite man, Pedro Pascal, is a Capricorn Moon too. And it even squares his Sun, yet he is extremely charming and likeable (sorry but I can't not simp, I am not immune to this man 🙈).

WELL, that is it for now, folks! Thanks for reading, if you've come this far. MWAH. 🫶

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🎄dividers by dollywons🎄

[quadrantadvisor]

From @phantom-dc

I love this actually. Danny realizes that he can pull this and decides he can't miss his chance, but immediately after the title passes he starts feeling guilty. Not guilty enough to take it BACK, though. Maybe he runs off at first, but then starts imagining the Observants trying to contact this random guy and how confusing that would be, and comes back to explain things.

Jason HAS in fact been very confused by the glowing green stationary that shows up no matter how well he burns his safe houses and covers his tracks when he moves. Confused, and totally not scared out of his mind. The file boxes full of fantasy paperwork are the weirdest and most threatening prank anyone has ever pulled on him. He'd like to blame Tim, but he already asked Barbie, and she wouldn't let him get away with that. He keeps reading through the stacks, looking for some sort of code, something to make it make sense, but no, it's just, territory disputes between skeletons and yetis, complaint forms from Satan, something about allocating resources to restore the Greek sector. Jason does not get it at all.

And then there's a knock on his door, and it's that weird guy who laughed when Jason kicked the shit out him a couple weeks ago. He's crouched over, picking up another one of the file boxes from Jason's stoop. The guy straightens up and gives him a wry look. "Sorry about all this," he says.

So Danny starts explaining to Jason what happened, and obviously Jason just gets pissed and doesn't believe him at all at first, but Danny is able to convince him with facts and logic and a few strategic displays of the powers that he super didn't use when he threw that fight (Jason is very embarrassed to realize that).

And Danny helps Jason out. He explains what Jason's new responsibilities are, he sorts through the papers with him, he complains about the Observants and all the other officials in the Ghost Zone, and he drops a lot of mindblowing lore completely casually. Just by letting Danny ramble on, Jason learns what ectoplasm is, that it makes up the Infinite Realms, and that it must be part of his own makeup, or else he wouldn't have been able to inherit the throne.

Danny keeps helping out, Jason keeps not ceding the throne to someone else, and before the two of them know it, Jason is the feared and respected leader of the Realms for his ability to take no shit and get shit done, and Danny is his trusted right hand, advisor, and cultural liason. The Fright Knight title just seems natural, at that point. Danny is still doing a lot of the work that he despised before, but at least it's split between the two of them, and Jason is happy to make the tough and unpopular decisions that paralyzed Danny. And Danny is also deeply invested in keeping Jason safe. No reason. Not like he's deeply in love with him after all the time they've spent together or anything.

Ghost King Jason

Danny gets into a fight with The Red Hood. The Red Hood says the words "I challenge you, You M--F--" Danny looks him square in the eyes and says "Challenge Accepted." before promptly throwing the fight.

Now being the Ghost King is Jason's Problem.

[five-rivers]

Cilia

A little ficlet I did for @jackdaw-sprite :3

Clockwork was observing Daniel out of the corner of his eye.  The boy had wedged himself into the corner of his couch - an artifact he had only acquired for Daniel’s sake in the first place - and looked like he was half asleep, although he was still in ghost form.  

There were a number of paths leading out from this point in time.  Some of them were so unlikely and would require Clockwork to act in such a reprehensible way that they were virtually impossible, and Clockwork barely glanced at them.  Others were unpleasant or unfortunate for a variety of reasons.  The rest had their positives and negatives.  

Clockwork would have to decide which pathway to take.  And whether or not it would be worth it, to take the one that would give him what he wanted.  

Already, he had been contemplating the dilemma for subjective days.  As Master of Time, he could contemplate it for subjective years, if he so wished, but that would likely be unhealthy.  

He wanted.  

He flew over to the couch and settled on the side across from Daniel, just close enough for their auras to touch.  

Daniel’s aura reached towards his, the tiny strands that made it up waving and stretching sideways.  The strands that could touch tapped and brushed and wrapped around Clockwork’s.  Clockwork could feel as their rounded, slightly bulbous ends curiously, and somewhat clumsily, nosing through the thicker field of Clockwork’s aura.  Where the auras overlapped, the air seemed to ripple with rainbow shades.  

Daniel stirred, reorienting himself slightly on the couch so that he was closer to Clockwork, a little bit more of his aura intersecting Clockwork’s.  

“‘M I in your way?” asked Daniel, blinking sleepily at Clockwork.  “Keeping you off your couch.”

“No,” said Clockwork, who had never used the couch before now.  

“What’s–”  He raised his hand, confused, and waved it through their combined auras, briefly making them flare even brighter as another part of Daniel’s aura passed through the area.  “What’s happening?”

“Aura intersection.”

“I’ve been close to other ghosts before,” said Daniel, waving his hand through their auras again.  “It didn’t, um, it didn’t do this.”

“Ghosts you trust?” asked Clockwork.  

“Um,” said Danny, frowning.  “Why does- Why does it do this?”  He was very obviously not fully awake, but he was as curious as his aura.  

“You know that your aura is made of small filaments.”

Daniel nodded.  “Like cilia.  On a cell.”  

“Yes, like cilia.  Your aura is interacting with mine.  If you look very closely, you will be able to see the strands.”

Daniel blinked slowly, then leaned closer.  “I don’t see anything.”

“Look at it like you would look at something invisible,” said Clockwork, adjusting his position slightly.  

“Hmm,” said Daniel, leaning even closer.  He lost balance and his shoulder bumped into Clockwork’s arm.  “Mm, sorry.”

“No need,” said Clockwork, patting Daniel’s back.  

It was the first time Clockwork had touched him so casually, and Daniel stiffened, but he was too tired, and too interested in the interactions of their auras, to keep that up for long.  Clockwork, meanwhile, let the strands of his aura brush through Daniel’s, projecting calm, moving soothingly.  

Daniel was not yet familiar with that kind of empathic, aura-to-aura communication, and he responded accordingly, mirroring the feelings and drooping further, curling slightly into Clockwork.  Clockwork nudged him gently, with hand and aura, until he was more or less lying on Clockwork.  

“It’s pretty,” said Daniel.  

“It can be, yes,” said Clockwork, extending his aura, wrapping Daniel in its embrace.  “You seem very tired today.”

“Lots of fights,” said Danny.  “Boxy, Desiree, Skulker–”  He yawned.  “Nocturne, even.”

“Oh?”

“He’s- He’s not so bad when he’s not feeding off like a million dreams or- or whatever he was doing that one time…”

“Indeed,” said Clockwork, stroking his shoulders and upper arms.  Daniel’s head was nodding up and down, his blinks getting longer and longer, and his aura was also starting to slow and grow quiescent, although it still expressed a sleepy curiosity.  

Clockwork let his own aura be more adventurous, questing through Daniel’s until it touched his skin.  Daniel shivered at the first touch, but otherwise seemed undisturbed, relaxing further as their auras became more intertwined.  

Cautiously, Clockwork began to feed him energy through their auras.  There was a small chance for rejection at this stage– But there was none, Daniel accepting the sustenance easily, his head lolling back against Clockwork’s chest.  

His eyes were closed.  His breathing slowed.  At his waist, his aura sparked, then rolled, forming a ring.  The ring split, moving in two directions.  Where the rings passed, Daniel’s aura pulled back into his skin and his clothing shifted, becoming his human outfit.  All very normal.  

Except that the parts of Clockwork’s aura that were tangled in Daniel’s were pulled in as well.  Not all the way, no, but enough.  It was uncomfortable at first, but Clockwork quickly got used to it.  

Daniel did not wake.

He did, however, turn to snuggle into Clockwork.  Clockwork, feeling indulgent, wrapped him in his cloak.  

Even when Daniel transformed again, Clockwork’s aura would still be tangled with his.  In fact, their auras would be even more tangled, to the point of being inseparable by normal means.  

Now, a ghost’s aura could extend for some distance, and the stronger the ghost, the further their aura could reach.  But even Clockwork’s aura could not extend more than a few dozen meters.  

In other words, Daniel would be bound to him until he could come up with a way to untangle himself.  Bound, for Clockwork to keep, at least for a while.  

Daniel would be angry at first.  Even if Clockwork didn’t have the ability to see the future, he could see that.  But his anger would fade quickly, and he would feel better if he had useful and interesting things to do - Clockwork was already planning what he would teach him.  As for sustenance during that time…  Clockwork sent another pulse of energy through his aura, and smiled as Daniel mumbled happily in his sleep and snuggled closer.  

He would savor this moment.  

[depressedcoffeeobsess]

╰[𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬]

pairing(s): james potter x fem!reader

summary: they both are oblivious, still glancing at each other.

warnings: james and reader are both idiots in love, reader is more of the shy type. Sorry.

note(s): my first ever james potter fic! I was bored so I wrote this :)

word count: 675 words!

CHRISTMAS SEEMED TO KICK IN faster than usual. The festive activities were being done all around the place. The lights seemed to glimmer brighter than ever this year. Yet again another christmas at hogwarts. This time the halls had been lit up and decorated. The big christmas tree in the middle, complimented with ornaments and tinsle. Mistletoes were at it's usual chaotic way. It seemed to have appeared all around the place when two students were together. Hogsmeade wasn't usually so packed during christmas. But this year the streets were full of people going in all directions.

James potter and his friends, the marauders, were staying at hogwarts too. They didn't have a particular reason, except for james. He was staying because you were staying. Of course sirius knew that. Sirius knew almost every thing at hogwarts. It was like he was dumbledore.

You were having a great day yet. Sneaking out to the kitchens with marlene and mary was your thing. Lily wasn't staying this time around. She had to be with her family. It was sad and upsetting truly, but you tried to have fun with your other friends too. Marlene suggested that they all have hot chocolate and crackers to taste during every winter day. Mary suggested going to hogsmeade to get candy that could get eaten at mid night. You weren't usually the type to cause chaos and mayhem. But for your friends you'd do almost anything.

you would say you were having a bliss starting at James. What could you say? The man was pefect. Head to toe. Every inch of his perfect face seemed to be sculpted by apollo himself. And his body, you couldn't even start with it. His quidditch really worked. And his hair—

“if you keep eye shagging him why dont you just talk to him?” mary was waving her right hand in front of you. “I mean you looked like you were lost” you were. Good guess marlene.

“well, I–I cant talk to him. He'd never feel the same way” you were quite insecure seeing that most of the girls at hogwarts were confident and pretty.

“of course he does. He just doesn't get the time to show it” marlene perked in. That made you feel so much better.

“dont believe her. I mean the part where he likes you back, do. But the other isn't real. He does have time for you” Mary tried to make the current setting brighten up.

“but what if he doesn't?”

“he’s a big jerk—”

As their conversation continued, James was stealing subtle glances at them. More like you. He was trying not to just stare because sirius could fire at him any time. They liked to tease each other. James thought you looked particularly amazing today. He picked up a habit to note down—on his mind—what you were doing everyday.

“Prongs, mate if you are gonna keep looking at her, you might aswell already ask her out” sirius said without a teasing tone. Sirius was being serious.

“you look at her all the time. What's up with her?” no doubt that remus had already caught up to sirius with peter behind him.

“n–nothing is up with her!”

“of course there is nothing up with her” peter rolled his eyes. He was already catching up with it.

“whatever” of course james was scared to admit he liked you. He loved the way your hair was let down loose or just tied up. (I'm so sorry if you are bald. So sorry)

You were constantly glancing around the common room just to look at james. You both were looking at each other secretly. But this one time your gaze lingered on for a bit longer. This one time also happened to be the time james looked at you too. You both had caught each other. For a moment it seemed be that the time had stopped. The ongoing coversations were behind this atmosphere. When you both got to your senses you looked away, blushing furiously with wode eyes. Could that possibly happen one more time? (It is gonna happen)

[ozzgin]

It's Christmas Eve, and you wake up to a baby outside of your home. Your yakuza friends quickly come to your rescue, and thus begins your journey of finding the baby's parents. Daitou ponders his own future family with you. content: female reader, violence, mentions of pregnancy, based on Tokyo Godfathers

[Yandere Yakuza Masterlist] | [More Yandere Works]

You stare at the little basket in disbelief.

On the front steps of your apartment complex, a lone baby is crying and shuffling in the bundle of stale sheets. The event would've been baffling enough by itself; even more incredulous is that someone has decided to drop an infant in the middle of a yakuza quarter, in winter, during a gang war. You glance at the bullet holes left in the entrance wall with pursed lips.

You do the only reasonable thing that comes to mind: call Daitou.

As you settle the baby in your much warmer living room, you hear the door rattle. Daitou barges in, face pale as a sheet. Behind him, Kazuya struggles to catch his breath.

“Why- Why didn’t you tell me,” he shouts, collapsing to his knees.

“What? I literally just did,” you argue, eyeing him in confusion.

Kazuya pats his friend’s shoulder, giving you an awkward smile.

“Just my two cents, (Y/N) love, but perhaps telling him ‘I have a baby’ wasn’t the smartest idea. I didn’t have time to explain the logical fallacies to him.”

Indeed, it was a speedy affair. They were hanging out at the headquarter across the street when Daitou answered your panicked call. He nodded, hung up, then sprang out of his seat, bemoaning that he’s the biggest dumbass on this Earth. How could he have missed the fact he’d gotten you pregnant? When did it happen? Was it a surprise birth? There was no time to consider the logistics – he ran, and ran, indifferent to Kazuya’s desperate pleads to listen.

“Oh my God,” you whine, ruffling his hair. “I found the baby, you idiot. Outside my apartment. It was there, in a basket. I hear it crying this morning and went downstairs to see what’s happening.”

The dark-haired man swings his head back up, having finally connected the dots. The movement is so abrupt, his prosthetic eye plops out and rolls away inconspicuously. You catch it before it reaches the edge of the sofa.

“So, what now?” the blonde man is the first one to break the silence. “Does it have a return address?”

“Nothing,” you confess. “We should figure something out; I don’t have any food or diapers.”

“We could keep it,” Daitou mutters mainly to himself. Maybe it was fate, y’know? Or something like that.

“Yeah? Are you going to breastfeed it, momma?” Kazuya groans, flicking his friend. “A stray cat caring for another stray.”

He’s about to place a cigarette in his mouth, but you slap it away and angrily gesture towards the baby. Ah, yes. Of course. He stuffs it back into his pocket, and continues:

“I say we take the kiddo over to our brothel. Plenty of girls that’ll have a better idea.”

You nod thoughtfully. Kazuya’s mom is one of those girls. How many children came out of this business, you wonder? You wrap the infant back into its sheets, and carefully lift the basket.

The street is suspiciously empty as you make your way to the soapland. Well, it’s Christmas Eve, after all. You recall last year’s Family event, when you met Boss for the first time. Back then you were pouring sake for all the underground elite, now you’re carrying an abandoned baby around. It seems that peaceful holidays aren’t something you can enjoy with the yakuza.

In an immaculately ironic timing to your complaint, a loud, thundering sound flashes past your ears. Before you can turn around, you feel Daitou’s brawny arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you in the air. You let out a quick, involuntary shriek.

“Keep your head down,” he barks, suddenly grim and serious.

Kazuya mutters a curse under his breath, swiftly turning on his heels and shooting at targets out of your sight. You’ve been caught in one of the armed conflicts.

What a day, you think, hands gripped tightly around the basket. The baby is crying, the bullets are pouring. Daitou is holding you with one arm, the other is occasionally returning the shots.

“You get used to it,” you whisper to the infant. “I’m telling you now, there’s no better company than these two.”

It’s probably better to not be involved in the first place, of course, but if you do find yourself caught in gangster business...Kazuya and Daitou are your guarantee to survival.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, your feet touch the ground once more. The matron of the brothel hurries over, fanning herself and tugging at the collar of her kimono.

“My, what a mess. I hope you managed to put a few holes in those rascals,” she says in a husky voice. One can immediately guess she’s a heavy smoker.

She notices your unusual package.

“What’s that?”

“Haven’t you heard? (Y/N) and Daitou are parents,” Kazuya announces with gravity.

The rest of the women gather around, gasping and cheering. You elbow the blonde man, furrowing your brows in annoyance.

“Nonsense. This baby was dropped this morning in front of my building. We thought we’d-”

“Ah!”

One of the women steps forward, inspecting the basket with trembling hands. She narrates the story to you: her friend – the mother – was involved with one of the rival Family members. She’d planned on running away with her partner, you see, but escaping the biggest yakuza branch with a baby in the backseat wasn’t an easy task. She begged to drop the newborn in her friend’s care before her departure. They’d decided on a locker by the train station to perform the unusual exchange.

“I waited for hours, but she never arrived,” the woman concludes. “My God, I thought the poor kid froze to death in one of the postal boxes. She must’ve gone for the nearest convenient hideout!”

You hand her the bundle, and she scurries towards the neighbouring room to do a proper health check. Daitou follows her movements in silence.

“Don’t tell me you wanted to keep it,” you joke.

Kazuya jumps in with a smirk:

“Are you kidding me? He probably planned a whole family trip on the way here.”

The yakuza coughs dryly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“D-don’t be ridiculous, man. If we’re done here, I’ll be taking miss (Y/N) home.”

The idea of starting a family with you has crossed his mind, certainly. On the other hand, Daitou isn’t in a rush by any means. He’s rather enjoying the current arrangement, and he loves having you as the most important thing in his life.

“Oh, will you be staying over?” you turn towards your boyfriend. “I haven’t finished wrapping your presents.”

He twirls the glass eye nervously. If you ask him, he’s already gotten the deal of a lifetime. You.

[frannyzooey]

You, and this fic, own me.

This chapter had so much to give!!! I thought it was going to be pure filth and then you hit me with that ending, and I am fucking yearning for these two so goddamn bad (while also being so out of my mind aroused --)

There were so, so many good parts in this one, like the way my mouth fucking dropped open at this:

“Just another reason that maybe you should be inside that church, rather than suckin’ dick in its parking lot."

and THIS:

And so help you god, he’s wearing his tool belt. 

But THIS -- this took the fuckin' cake:

“Then play ‘house’ with me,” you purr, dragging your fingers through his hair. “You can be daddy,” you stroke down his cheek, over his lips, “I can be mommy. And you can try and put a baby in me.”

I was literally levitating at this line. ROCKETING TOWARDS THE MOON!! I was also so in love with how light and free and fun their fucking and teasing was -- the way they just slide into role play like it's no goddamn thing had me grinning ear to ear

Annnnnnnnnd then you hit me with the emotions:

The discordance stirs in your stomach. Right now, you’re actually witnessing the loving-husband-turned-infidel façade weave its way through his marriage. He’s asking her to leave…for you. To free up time to be with you. Under the guise of caring for her. 

You wish it made you feel worse. It just feels…uncomfortable to actually view firsthand.

I literally cannot even imagine what it would feel like to witness the deception happening first hand, and it's something that a lot of cheating fics don't explore? (and I should know 😌)...the way you treated this scene was literal perfection because you brought so much nuance to his emotions. He's being deceptive, but not a manipulative gross creep like this situation is often portrayed. He genuinely hurts....yet does it anyway. I'm obsessed with this scene because you're doing such a good job extending Joel, as a man, the same grace that people often give to the reader in these types of stories. They empathize with the reader feeling bad but doing it anyway, but they often villainize the man, or assume he doesn't feel as bad, ya know? Anyway, just me waxing on about your beautiful brain ❤️

I had all these amazing thoughts about your writing skills....and then they all leaked from my brain when I read this:

You: Yours is the only mouth I want sucking on these titties right now, daddy 👅

You fix your sweater and peer back through your peephole, just to see his face collapse in arousal, grinding the heel of his palm over the crotch of his jeans.

I know the desk fucking scene was so taboo and so filthy, but I felt so, so fucking soft when he said this:

setting the frame down in front of you before yanking your hair at the root and slamming his hand down next to the photo. “You stare at that girl while daddy’s tearin’ apart your slutty little asshole. Remind her that she deserves better than that piece a’shit.”

I live for this line 😭😭

And then this -- this -- was perfection:

“Baby,” he takes your face in his hands again, his expression edging on broken. On your behalf. “What has this fuckin’ monster done to you? My girl from the bar, she knew what she was fuckin’ worth. And she’d let you know it. She came first, and she didn’t apologize for it or accept anything less. What did he do to that fuckin’ girl?”

“Maybe it wasn’t all him."

I could literally envision the look on his face when she said that. What a fucking LINE, Katy and then to have it followed with her speech about how Jack isn't a monster, he's just a man??

The way you are out here giving the depth to this trope that it needs has me SAT and quite frankly, green with envy

This chapter was so fucking good 💀💀💀 ily ❤️

Good Neighbors | (joel miller x f!reader) (18+)

Part Three of Four

✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧A fic inspired by Fortnight by Taylor Swift✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

Part One | Part Two

summary: your affair with joel heats up with a week of uninterrupted bliss. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no outbreak!au, age gap (joel is 48, reader is 32), joel x ofc (no sexual content), reader x omc (pitiful sexual content), infidelity, daddy!kink, fingering, unprotected PIV, unprotected anal, oral (m! and f!receiving), degradation!kink, praise!kink, brief roleplaying, unashamed sexualization of the term "kiddo", discussions of SA and domestic abuse, marital discussions regarding mismatched desires on having children, reader struggles with body image as a result of her abusive husband, unhealthy/toxic age gap marriage. this chapter is a much needed break from Jack. immersion notes: reader has hair, wears dresses/makeup, and is considered a "trophy wife" type. additionally, reader is specifically implied to be conventionally thin. apologies to anyone for whom this kills immersion for, but it felt very necessary in the context of the story. word count: ~11.6k a/n: wanted to give the lovebirds a little part that's primarily fun times before shit hits the fan <3 So there will be one more chapter!

Available Only to Registered Users on AO3

[arcanarix]

f! reader, geto being toxic as per usual

there’s many things yandere geto’s too prideful to admit out loud, but the biggest one is his desire to be needed.

specifically, to be needed by you.

nothing has ground his gears more than the fact that you are a bit too secure for your own good. on one hand, he should be flattered that you aren’t worried about stuff, but that’s not the point! he adores when you cling to him on nights where you feel a little restless for one reason or another! or when you look at him like he’s your hero, your solace, your reprieve from any harm!

and certainly, no harm shall come to you as long as you stand by him.

one night he discovers something he can easily twist for his own needs, though. sometimes you have panic attacks. some are milder than others, but during those nights you have spilled some of your deepest fears. among them?

being alone. which is never going to be the case for you, not if he can help it, not for as long as he lives and even in death (as if his death is going to stop you from being together forever and ever)…

but oh, he can’t help how his heart swells when you bury your head into his chest and sob to him about how you loathe the idea of being unloved, which isn’t true, you are so loved, utterly and completely and helplessly by him. how you think no one thinks about you or cares even an inkling about you, which is preposterous, he’s here, HE does care.

he can’t help it; this has healed that earlier blow to his pride that he hates that he thought you were too secure but you have your worst fears, and maybe… maybe he wants to see how badly these fears truly do affect you.

sometimes, he leaves you alone for longer periods. it starts off with just an hour or so longer than usual. then more. he knows most of the time you’re fine. you go about your days as usual, but he can tell it bothers you when he’s not as ever present to catch you when you fall. it takes one day where he’s gone for far longer during his activities at the cult that he returns to you clutching at his robe, tears spilling from your eyes because yes, he’s done it, he’s found a trigger… that little hint of uncertainty. and behind the soothing coos and brushing through your hair, assuring you that nothing has happened or has changed, he’s fighting off the smirk on his face.

fuck, you look so good when you’re the one who needs him. that night you beg to feel him everywhere, just for that validation, and of course, of course he’s going to give it all to you. whatever you want.

but he wants to make sure this sticks. and it will, the more he plays on your fears in the slightest of ways. you may never catch on.

[tempests-bards-and-birds]

i think that one of the most tragic aspects of venti's character is the fact that no matter how hard he tries, no replication that he can make of the bard will ever be perfect because for a single image or concept to be long-lasting and static goes entirely against the nature of the wind.

it has been consistently emphasised throughout the game that "seeds of stories brought by the wind" will be "cultivated" by time - in other words, they will grow, but they will never remain the same as they were when they were first told; to try to remove that element of warping and artistic interpretation that is inevitable as a story is passed on is like trying to bottle up a storm and hoping that'll stop it from damaging the surroundings - instead, no one will ever know about it, and the only thing that it will have left to destroy will be itself.

venti is basically doing exactly this by trying to preserve the bard's memory - the only way to stop it from being warped would be to remove it from any kind of environment where that could happen, which would require taking the story out of circulation, which then means that he is the only living being who knows it in its whole detail and entirety. he understands, however, the fallibility of his own memory, as can be seen in how reminders of it seem to shake him; in his story quest, he seems strangely unguarded after resolving the situation with hans (whose story is massively identical to venti's for a reason - having a mirror can be very useful for storytelling, and genshin relies on it perhaps a bit too much), describing the barbatos statue as "the usual place" despite the fact that for our traveler, it is not (this ties into another theory that i am Not going into here lol). we know that venti prizes being able to keep a certain level of anonymity, with him describing the traveler's high level of intuition as "scary", so for him to show even the slightest level of disregard for maintaining his façade suggests that being faced with the reality of the impossibility of his self-imposed purpose is something that did really bother him (which tbf makes sense now that i write it out).

comparisons have been made before between venti and zhongli wherein the irony of having a god of wind whose appearance is unchanging and a god of stone who is (supposedly, if we assume zhongli's teasing about his own past forms to be reflective of the truth) in contrast constantly shifting is often key, and in a lot of ways zhongli's situation does mirror venti's in many ways; he theoretically has the ability to accurately preserve history as one would by carving it into stone, and yet it is almost as if he lets it slip through his fingers instead - he finds humour in inaccurate historical accounts and allows himself to change, not just physically but in terms of attitude (the whole point of the liyue aq is for him to be able to do this; to live as a mortal after millenia spent overseeing as a god). in many ways venti and zhongli are polar opposites, but the theme of wanting to transcend one's physical constraints, of wanting a state of existence that the other already in theory has, is consistent throughout both.

venti, however, seems to be so much more uncomfortable with this than zhongli is, and this awareness of the issue while still being so bothered by it to the extent that he pushes it away even more, causing the pressure in that jar to by extension increase too, is where the true point of tragedy lies.

maybe, though, by deciding to share the bard's story with the traveler, he is beginning to accept the necessity for change.

[wheelie-sick]

no context because I don't want the discourse this came from on my blog- saw the phrase "gender is a social construct, mental illness is not" and I disagree (on the mental illness part- gender is a social construct)

while the symptoms of mental illness are real the way we define them is a social construct.

we know for some mental illnesses (as much as I hate the term) that some genes predispose to those mental illnesses but those genes are usually not unique to one mental illness and never guarantee a specific mental illness. we don't define mental illness by the objective facts, genes, because we can't.

AKAP11 mutations predispose people to both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. bipolar and schizophrenia can be two very similar, often overlapping, disorders. we define them differently because we have recognized patterns in symptom presentation but even then there are gray areas. those gray areas where symptoms blur and overlap are so large and so common we have a term for them- schizoaffective disorder.

we define them differently because we see them differently not because there is a known biological difference between the two. the disorder is socially constructed.

I'm going to go and give some other examples of social construction. money is a social construct, we give it value because we decide to and we define it in ways that have no scientific basis. this does not mean money isn't real or that it has no impact. mental illness is real and has impact, but our definitions are made up based on patterns we see not a biological reality.

diagnostic criteria can also be very flawed, there is a reason that they change with every new edition of the DSM. the people defining these mental illnesses do not have a full grasp on them. they probably won't within our lifetime.

it does not help that mental illness is also very subjective. what looks like OCD to one psychiatrist can look like an anxiety disorder to another. a psychiatrist can change their mind and walk back and anxiety disorder diagnosis switching it to OCD whenever they feel like it as long as these vague criteria have been met. if you're not getting the point here- mental illness is a gray muddled mess that isn't based on any biological reality of disorder.

I did want to touch on the fact that not everyone considers what's happening in their brain to be an illness or disorder at all. the idea of suffering, disorder, and illness are subjective. some people view their brain's natural state of being as just that- a natural state of being. they find it to be natural variation of human existence rather than something that is "wrong" as disorder and illness can suggest. some people believe their brain's state of being is correct and does not need changing.

madness can be empowering. people are not wrong for looking at their madness & neurodivergence and finding correctness in it. looking at mental illness from this angle, the fact that it's even considered an illness is a subjective social construction. this also does not mean that people who find what happens in their brains to be an illness are wrong either. this is a social construction after all, not biological fact.

[kotonni]

So, upon rewatching season 2, certain details have been brought to my attention that further cement Jayce and Viktor's affections for one another, and it all comes down to both Viktor and Jayce´s visual contact in this scene.

Back to this two shots, previously I stated that Jayce's memories of Viktor had been altered by his feelings for him. However I do not believe this is the case anymore.

In fact it is possible that this are not the memories from our Jayce at all, but from an alternate reality Jayce, one who was unable to stop the glorious evolution from culminating. It is very possible that this was the exact moment an alternate Jayce lost to Viktor, simply put, he was unable to shoot him because of his love for him.

And I no longer believe this to be a stretch, because the visuals pretty clearly support this argument: why does Viktor not smile down at Jayce in our timeline?

Well, because Jayce isn't looking at him anymore.

The only reason why Jayce is able to shoot Viktor is because he is averting his gaze. He lowers his head and shuts his eyes tightly before taking the shot, refusing to watch the act he is about to commit. By the time Viktor opens his eyes Jayce is already aiming the hextech weapon at him.

Harming Viktor goes so against his own nature that he begins to split into multiple versions of himself. Other selves from timelines where he failed, because for a second time, they weren't able to let Viktor die, and thus they break their oath to Viktor once again.

But this isn't the case for our Jayce, his oath to mage Viktor is repeated to us ("I won't fail. I swear it.") just as he is about to take the shot.

This exchange happens in a matter of seconds. Viktor has no chance to be pleased that Jayce has come back to him after months, Jayce doesn't allow this. He knows there is realities where he has already failed. But he refuses to break his promise to Viktor this time.

Ok this might be a stretch but after act 2 I was so curious to see why Jayce had looked upon Viktor like that

It wasn't fear, not exactly, upon seeing Viktor in a divine sort of position I could only describe Jayce's gaze as awed.

Of course, before the third act came out, the popular theory of "Jayce is stuck in a time loop and has killed Viktor many times before" explained a lot about his behavior but not about this look. Why would he look so shaken if this isn't his first time seeing him?

Now that the show is over I do believe we might have an answer and of course the answer is given to us in this scene.

When Cait mentions Viktor, forcing Jayce to confront that more than Ambessa, the greatest threat to their lives and Piltover is Viktor himself, Jayce thinks back to that first meeting after the time skip.

Of course we know at this point that there was no time loop. This is indeed the first time Jayce sees Viktor as the herald, and Viktor's reaction to seeing Jayce for the first time after months has been distorted in Jayce's own memories.

In his mind Viktor smiles at him. Although he is about to kill him, from Jayce's perspective, Viktor's first look at him after months of being separated is one of pure affection.

During his time in the arcane he was forced to undergo contidions that directly reflect Viktor's own upbringing, but let's not forget he was also haunted by such visions:

Making Mel's image dissappear only to be replaced by Viktor's is extremely symbolic, this is not Jayce obsessing over Viktor and his actions, instead we are directly told that not only is Jayce's relationship with Viktor of the same sort as his relationship with Mel, Viktor is quite literally replacing his former lover.

We could talk about the constant parallels between Mel and Viktor for days, but I believe my last point is backed up even further by propably the most evident mirror shot of the two of them:

appearing again during Viktor's conversation with Jayce:

This is very clearly a POV shot of Viktor from Jayce's own eyes, although it is Viktor talking, the images we see are from Jayce remembering their first meeting which, of course, was fated to happen.

With this established and going back to my main point, I believe upon seeing Viktor for the first time in months, who is gazing down at him with a smile on his face, and after being forced to confront his feelings for Viktor, Jayce looks up at him with love.

This is his own realization that they are in fact meant to find one another in every timeline.

[a-mel0n]

In June of 2024, I went on a camping trip with my family for a week down by the beach. While we were watching the waves crash against the shore, I was scrolling through Tumblr when a certain gifset in my For You page caught my attention. I can't remember who made the gifset, but the scene it captured was Buck coming out to Maddie in 7x05.

I stopped scrolling and watched a mute version of Evan Buckley play the pronoun game with his sister, I watched him say the words "Sure, I'll check out a hot guy's ass, but that's normal," and watched Maddie say "It's not... abnormal," and despite having no idea who these characters were, I could perfectly hear every delivery for those lines in my head as if I had already seen the show.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I clicked on the gifmaker's profile and watched another gifset. The Fabled First Date scene. My introduction to Tommy Kinard was his eyebrow raise when Evan Buckley stuttered out "But I'm not weirded out!" The little nod he does after Buck says "I mean, I'm an ally." while on a date with a man never fails to make me laugh, and it was that gifset that had me text a friend and say: "hey have u heard of 911. the tv show?" The response I got was: "gay firefighters. i wanna watch the show ngl." When I sent over the link to the gifsets I watched, my friend sent approximately fifteen crying emojis, then proceeded to say: "Im so watching this show. You should watch it too. So we can talk abt it together. I never have ppl to talk to abt this stuff."

Thus, history was made.

As soon as I got back from that trip, me and my friend proceeded to binge the entirety of 9-1-1 in just over two weeks. I started 1x01, "Pilot" on 6/27/2024 at 9:40 PM, and finished 7x10, "All Fall Down" on 7/12/2024 at 1:59 PM.

Since then, I've become the most involved in a fandom I've ever been in, met plenty of wonderful people who share the same love for this series and these characters as I do, and have made dozens of memories that will be quite difficult to forget.

9-1-1 has been an unforgettable experience, and it's all because of a single small acting decision that Lou Ferrigno Jr. made while playing Tommy Kinard in 7x05, a gifset made by a random person on Tumblr that just so happened to show up on my For You page, and the encouragement of a friend to open Hulu and watch a silly little firefighter show.

Buck and Tommy were a fundamental reason as to why I started watching this show, and seeing them break up hurt me in a way I wasn't really prepared for. I knew I was invested in their relationship, but I never knew how invested I truly was until they were gone. Their breakup may be temporary or it might be permanent, and although their relationship is fiction, the hurt I felt was real.

And that's why the Bucktommy fandom has been so important to me, because in spite of the breakup, we're still going strong. The @alliwantforchristmasislou positivity project is amazing. Unfortunately, I cannot donate to a charity, but I strongly implore anyone reading this to donate if you can and haven't already.

And.. that's it! I've said my piece. But... oh, there is one last thing:

#alliwantforchristmasislou

[galactichoneybee92]

Helluva Boss Season 3 Predictions

So now that I've spent the past week or so recovering from Sinsmas, I'd like to take some time to think about what's coming in the next season. Strap in: This post got WAY longer than anticipated. Spoiler warning for absolutely everything.

We are going to have ample time to concoct theories since Vivzie already confirmed that there will be a considerable wait for the new season. However, she did also confirm that we will be getting more shorts to hold us over and also that the extended wait time is in order to facilitate a more regular update schedule once season 3 premiers. We haven't gotten any further information on what that schedule might look like but I'm hoping for weekly releases instead of monthly so, you know, fingers crossed.

While season 2 was incredibly heavy on the Stolitz arc, Vivzie has stated that season 3 will be more focused on exploring some of the other characters. I'm sure Stolitz isn't going to disappear and that some of the episodes will still be focused on the progression of their relationship (I've seen some people saying that the Stolitz arc is over and like...respectfully...no? They're not even officially together? They have so much ground left to cover) but it would be nice to flesh out the rest of the characters in this universe.

One of the big plot points will of course be Millie's pregnancy. Now let me just say now, I'm already so incredibly sick of the "Millie cheated" theory. As if that's the only reason that a woman could be nervous about an unplanned pregnancy. Be so fucking for real. As for how I think they'll handle it, I think there could be some interesting juxtaposition happening between Stolas losing his child and the M&Ms gaining theirs. Millie is clearly very anxious about the pregnancy and I would personally love if there was an episode devoted to her trying to find ways to talk to Moxxie or Blitz about it but never quite finding the words, and in the end it winds up being Stolas who is able to help her. Out of all of IMP, he's the only one who has not only raised a baby, but did so while he was very young and probably very apprehensive about it. For all that he loves his daughter, Octavia was very much conceived out of obligation rather than either he or Stella feeling ready to bring a child into the world and I just think that it could be a good bonding moment for the two of them.

Right now IMP very much feels like the gang + Stolas, and I desperately need there to be more time devoted to Stolas getting to know the rest of IMP better. I think bonding with Millie could be an excellent first step (Step 2: Him and Moxxie bond over musical theater. Millie and Blitz are always trying to pawn Moxxie off on each other when it comes to watching musicals with him and I think it would be really great if he could have a musical theater bestie who actually enjoys them. And lets be real- There's no way you can watch Stolas's entire little musical production in Mastermind and come out thinking that that dramatic little fuck wouldn't love a good musical)

Speaking of Octavia, I would love to explore her character more. I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on her that I will probably explore in another post but while she does frustrate me, I do love her. Additionally, I'm very interested in what Stella and Andrealphus have planned now. They succeeded in getting Stolas out of the picture, his titles have passed to Andrealphus until Octavia is of age, but that has to be soon, right? Octavia was 17 in season 1 and while I'm not sure how much time has passed she has to be coming up on 18. 18 was the age that Loona was going to age out of the foster system so it's apparently the age of majority in Hell, the same as on Earth, so that would be the age that she would inherit her father's titles and estate. What are their plans for her then?

I think it's very possible that they will continue with their plan to have Stolas killed now that they no longer need him. Would they go as far as to try and kill Octavia too? What would happen if they did? What is the line of succession? Octavia clearly doesn't have any children so would Andrealphus get to keep everything?

Stolas and Stella were engaged as children, but so far we haven't seen anything about an arranged marriage for Octavia. If Stolas had to marry in order to secure a "precautionary heir", wouldn't Octavia need to do the same now that she has inherited everything? I wonder if we will get either a birthday episode (Octavia dealing with having her 18th birthday without her father- Stolas dealing with missing his daughter's 18th birthday) or an arranged marriage plotline (Maybe Stella announces her daughter's engagement on her 18th birthday?)

This next theory is really out there but bear with me here and remember that they're strongly based on European royalty: What if Andrealphus tries to marry Octavia to secure the title for him and his sister.

Overall, I think an arranged marriage arc could really do a lot for Octavia's character in regard to her perspective on Stolas. Right now she only really views Stolas as her father, not as person in his own right, independent of his relationship to her. She only sees the ways in which he's failed her and not any of his own personal struggles. Furthermore, she had the quote from Sinsmas, 'You don't love mother and you don't love me- You love him." Which seems to imply that she thought her parents loved each other??? Stolas has mentioned on several occasions that he did his best to give her a normal life and I wonder if that included hiding the fact that he and Stella hated each other. It leads me to believe that maybe she thinks that they were happily in love until he met Blitz and then that was the catalyst for their marriage falling apart instead of their marriage having always been rotten at the core.

But what does that have to do with Octavia having an arranged marriage? Well I could see Octavia being very against it and Stella saying something like "Oh please, I had an arranged marriage when I was your age" and Octavia discovering the truth of the matter. She expressed surprise that her parents didn't marry for love and then Stella is like "Me? Love Stolas? Don't be ridiculous."

I mean naturally the wedding never happens- Stolas and IMP are able to interfere and save her from going through with it and maybe in the process repair her relationship with Stolas. Maybe they could steal her away and if she's staying with them she might be able to see all of the ways in which Blitz isn't some evil father-stealer like she's imagined him being. It sets it up for her to see them being soft with each other and maybe compare it to her memories of her parents and how they were never affectionate like that. Maybe Stolas will do something dorky that Stella would usually mock him for but instead Blitz will just roll his eyes and think it's cute and they might laugh about it together. And then Blitz would definitely make her smiley face pancakes in the morning (because he's nothing if not a girl-dad) and I could definitely see him remembering that one time in Sinsmas that Stolas mentioned that rats were Octavia's favorite snack and being sure to hunt some down for her.

Other unrelated small things I would like to see:

Blitz gets Stolas a little plant for the apartment.

Blitz gets some glow in the dark stars for the ceiling.

I'd love to explore Loona's character some more. How old was she when she went into foster care? Why was she there? Was she surrendered as a baby? Was she taken by whatever passes as CPS in Hell? Did she have any other foster families before Blitz? Why didn't they work out? Was she returned for behavioral issues or something? What's the story there? We got a little bit in Seeing Stars but not nearly enough and I would love to flesh out her backstory.

What about Loona's love life? She clearly had a crush on Vortex in season 1 and was disappointed to find out that not only did he already have a girlfriend but that that girlfriend was Bee- one of the seven deadly sins. Not someone she could compete with. Now me personally? I think that Bee has 2 hands and is the god of gluttony- she could definitely handle a 3-way polyamorous relationship. But that's just me. I don't actually have any sort of canon evidence to back that theory up, it's just more like a fun head canon: Let Loona Have a Boyfriend AND a Girlfriend 2025. (But if they introduce a new love interest for her? That's fine too. I just want my girl to be happy)

Finally, there has to be more about Barbie in season 3. Now I'm not super in love with her character like some of y'all are (This fandom has the unique ability to see a character with 30 seconds of screen time and LATCH ON like no one's business. See: Vasago) but she's an important part of Blitz's past. I think that a Barbie episode could be a good opportunity for Stolas (And Millie? And Moxxie? And Loona even? How much does IMP even know about Blitz's past???) to learn more about Blitz's past and trauma while also fleshing Barbie out as a character.

I feel that there are 3 major relationships that Blitz has to resolve in one way or another before he can properly heal from the events of the fire: Fizz, Barbie, and Cash. Him and Fizz have worked through their issues and are back on good terms and I feel like Barbie is next since we have actually met her in present day. Alternatively, we have no clue what Cash has been up to since the fire or even where he is now which leads me to believe that Blitz will probably be confronting him last, if at all.

That's all I've got so far but please, if you've read this far, drop a comment or a reblog with you own thoughts and opinions. Tell me what you think of my theories and share your own in return! We've got a long wait until the next season so we might as well scream about it together :)