#he only ever speaks nonsense anyway

[im-no-jedi]

you know what? I know what my real problem is

I’m not cringe enough

I need to be more cringe

I need to go back to like how it was last year when my entire blog was dedicated to MLWTBB

screw the anxiety, become cringe 😤

(and anyone who says otherwise, there’s an unfollow button with your name on it 😌)

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[moondirti]

kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.

featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.

when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.

truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.

so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.

he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.

instead, he shrugs.

"not much more to tell, cap."

"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."

and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.

"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."

it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.

of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.

the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.

"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.

"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"

"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."

"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."

your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.

"and you want me to let him?"

gaz nods. "if you'd please."

you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."

he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"

"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"

"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."

kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.

you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.

sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.

price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.

he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.

"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."

"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.

"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.

"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."

gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."

"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.

but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"

"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."

"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.

"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"

"of course."

"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"

"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.

fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.

"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.

but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"

"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"

you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.

"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.

"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."

an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."

"aye. i do."

"and i wanna make him happy."

"same for me."

and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.

"so, what'll it be?" you say.

"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."

you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.

"kyle."

"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.

"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."

"yes, sir."

"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."

"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"

this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.

all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–

flip your skirt over your hips.

a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.

"no panties, hm?"

"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.

"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.

"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."

it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.

the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.

"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"

"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."

"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."

he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.

but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"

he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"

"a-at least three times a go, sir."

"what's the record?"

"eight."

"and the longest you've held off?"

kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."

"tch."

a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.

and you...

you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.

so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"

"just mine, sir. and her toys."

"how about at once?"

kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.

yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.

"one, sir."

he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."

the finger plunges in.

gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.

"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."

"sir?"

"you cum inside her, lad?"

"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."

"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."

his hand inches up.

this time, it's gaz who groans.

loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.

"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."

"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"

"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.

"yeah."

you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.

"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."

his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.

so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.

a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.

"that's a good boy."

he could really get used to this.

[mullermilkshake]

Yandere's meet their Darling.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru knows he's amazing and incredible, he doesn't need to hear it to know it's true. Everybody loves him, except you. A person who denies any feelings towards him, enamoured or otherwise.

So naturally, Satoru is drawn to you.

Initially, he just observes and wonders what makes you so different and why you never fall in line like the rest of them. His infatuation first begins as an inconvenience. You inconvenience him. He can get any person he likes and toss them away like trash in a landfill whenever he pleases. But you do not allow that.

You are not interested in his subtle advances, you don't even allow him to catch you staring in his direction. Because you do the opposite, in fact for a moment, it's like you try your hardest to ignore him.

Satoru does not like being ignored.

The little signs of his interest soon become stronger and the inconvenience morphs into an odd interest about you. You're pretty, that's for sure, funny too, everything he looks for in a person he'd want to speak to on a more intimate level.

But Satoru can't stand the fact that when he expressed his feelings about you, in an appropriate manner too, you turned him down. It was pure madness. Whoever disregards his feelings are utterly insane and stupidly stupid. Well, other people, but not you.

Despite your protests, he will never think badly of you. Ever.

Satoru sees this as a game now. You don't want him, but he wants you and it's certain that you are his object of affection. He will find out how you are immune to his pretty face, his lovable charm and his outstanding morals.

You don't know it just yet, but he will have you.

Whatever Satoru wants, he gets.

Suguru Geto

Suguru daydreams over the first time seeing you. Your bravery and insensitive cursing that left your lips without batting an eyelid. You still do.

Your spirit is strong, overwhelming to those who don’t know you because you cannot be broken. Suguru takes that as a challenge, to break you down bit by bit in anyway he can, while still remaining faithfully at your side just like his other fellow sorcerers.

Before Suguru decides to leave the side of purity and defending the weak, he wants you to join him. There’s no way you ever will whilst your ideals remain as pure as Satoru’s hair.

Suguru would rather just rip off the bandaid and take you away, but there’s plenty to do before he can even do it. He wants to use his cursed spirits and get rid of the vile monkeys, but he waits. Another agonising year to be correct.

Suguru waits until he’s past the age of eighteen, he’s an adult now, as are you. That means that no one can tell him what to do and you are capable of making your own choices. The last year has been torturous for Suguru, silently filling your head with nonsensical bullshit and at first, it doesn’t work, but then it does.

At first you prefer to sit next to Suguru, then study with him and then allow him to walk you home after the winter nights get darker for longer.

Then because of Suguru’s well ingrained methods, you even go to kiss him. He receives you and knows now, that it’s time to indoctrinate you.

You are the only person Suguru wants next to him when he steps foot into the new world.

And now he's moulded you just for that.

Kento Nanami

Kento can’t believe his luck when he sees you at the gates of Jujutsu high. He already sees you outside of work in the little convenience store you work in, your shifts being every Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and every second Saturday. The store’s bread is currently the top on his list of regular items.

There’s just something different about you. There is indeed, a magnetic pull that keeps Kento coming back despite how terrible the other food items are.

You serve him with a smile, always a smile and it never falters. Sometime’s Kento is lucky enough to get a brush of your fingertip across his own finger during the exchange of money.

Imagine his surprise when he sees you, wandering up to the red Torii gate with a little piece of paper in your hand, you smile faded away and eyes so tired. Kento hates it that your smile has gone and later learns that it’s in fact a cursed spirit hurting you. And by chance, Kento was recommended to exorcise it.

You don’t know it’s a cursed spirit of course, just that Kento is apparently a masseuse and the lady who recommends her is the very same from that sandwich shop Kento used to frequent.

Fate has its way.

Kento knows this was meant to be and will do his best to give you comfort and continue to be the gentleman he always is. To be the respectful and trustworthy man you will call in a time of need, in fact you already have.

Accept now, you know his name. You also accepted an invitation to dinner.

Now that Kento is in your life, it’ll be rather difficult to have him exit it.

That won’t happen as long as he has a pulse.

Ryomen Sukuna

Roman Sukuna has never experienced shock, or surprise before, not until you waltz into his field of vision. Practically a carbon copy of the only person he loved during the golden age of Jujutsu.

Love is a weak emotion, but then again, it's an emotion all the same.

During the Heian ear, that person was a witch, a trickster, perhaps that's why he admires that person and it's entirely possible why he eats his words the second he spots you. Watching from a distance is all he can do for now until his brain resets itself and allows him to collect what a drooling mess he is.

Of course, he never admits it.

You by lineage, obviously a descendent are his to claim without protest from your lips. He watches you whilst he inhabits Yuji Itadori's body, noting your facial expressions, how you talk and they way you fiddle with your hair just right.

He will have you even if you don't agree, if you turn around and fight him because for the first time since his reincarnation, Sukuna senses a shift in his priorities. He hates it, shedding even a scrap of vulnerability, but that's how the world works.

Vulnerability makes people weak and he does not show it, not even allowing that punk to go through those types of memories he holds close. They are his alone and that's that.

Ripping out this body's heart could prove a useful tool to prove to you how high his affections lie, what better way to show it than giving you a still beating heart? But you strike him as the type of person who would not be that way.

You seem to be the type who enjoyed the rougher side, the raw energy of his intentions, forcefulness and unwavering perseverance.

Either way, you're coming with Sukuna when all is done and he fulfils his role as the king of curses and takes his rightful place burning the world.

With you right by his side whether you like it or not.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji Couldn't care less when he saw you.

You were nothing. A weak person with not much going for you besides having Jujutsu high as a security blanket. He originally had been watching Satoru Gojo, waiting for him to drop his guard, he noticed you too and thought nothing of it.

Then, he stands no more than six feet in front of you, you're hurting, breathing erratically with so much blood up your arms yet still standing there to face him. Even though you just watched Satoru Gojo die by his hand, he was still there on the floor with the gigantic laceration in his neck.

Still, you didn't take your eyes off of Toji, and for the first time, it stirs something up inside him. Why are you, an upperclassman even doing with these kids? Toji does his homework and you have four years on them, is it to lead by example?

You aren't setting a very good one, picking a fight with someone much stronger than you in every way, but you still remain there, ready to take Toji on. He wants to ask you, why? How can someone be so stupid to see a man, who is your cocky underclassman and much stronger than you by far get his shit pushed in and you still want to take him on?

You just stand there, trying your best to control what little hope you have left. But it isn't enough, it never is. Toji overpowers you like a butter knife to soft flaky fish, holding you in his grip whilst you struggle to make things inconvenient for him.

You don't make a dent though.

Toji has other plans than killing you like he did Satoru Gojo, he just isn't sure what those plans entail, but he'll find out soon enough.

Choso

Choso's head is splitting as he wanders through the train station, trying his best to input the new information and store it somewhere without frying his brain. He's overwhelmed and unsure of where his footing lies. A hole to crawl into seems like the best idea, until he can mull over this sense of horrid sickness.

That's until he turns the corner and sees you running past him, almost colliding into each other. You stop and look at him as he holds fast and tries his best to keep the tears from falling over his cheeks.

He looks at you and you him, and if it isn't bad enough that his head threatens to explode, images of you plague what little brain space is functional, tripping his entire head.

What Choso does not know, in this moment, was that he was imprinting on you, filling the blanks of his memories and slotting you right where you should be. He needs to protect you at all costs, because if he doesn't you are sure to die just like his brothers.

You are special. Despite what side you are on, you even ask him if he is alright. What person on the opposing side does that? You do that. You are the saving grace amongst the sorcerer's and showed him kindness.

Choso must keep you safe and not allow anyone to touch or harm you. He was not there for his brothers and he will be damned now if he doesn't protect you in their stead.

Little does he know, that he is just on the first step to becoming obsessed and infatuated with you, and will stop at nothing to keep you right where you are.

Even if it kills him.

Hiromi Higuruma

Hiromi first meets you as one of his clients, accused of murder you did not commit.

He knows you're innocent, he just knows it, the look of your innocent features as you walk through the door to the two way glass to ask for help. So innocent and doe eyed as you sit there across the desk practically begging him to help.

Of course he'll help, it's what he does best when his clients are against the odds. Conviction in Japan exceeds ninety nine percent for a reason. So he decides to help and offers his services pro bono. It's for the greater good of the public after all. Putting your pretty face behind bars is a travesty.

Your aura is simple, dainty and warm. Hiromi wants nothing more than to protect you, to look after you and nurse you from the legal system that has targeted you.

Because there is no way that you are hiding anything from him. He can just tell.

Whilst the prosecution builds a case, Hiromi does everything he can to make your stay where you are kept as comfortable as possible. Soon, he doesn't just come to see you to speak about the case, he also regularly comes to see you just to spend time before returning home.

It should never be a case that he fell for you while accused of such a horrible crime, but he can't help himself. He can never help himself. His thoughts on how you'll jump for joy and have no choice but to stay with him after out of a sense of duty for pulling off the impossible are continuous.

Either that of he will just ask you out himself until you do.

After all, as an attorney, it's his job to push for all the facts to get the outcome he desires.

[pressureplus]

this blog is the goat i love it sm :) totally get if it's too much but i'd love drunk seb headcanons. thnx ❤️

LOVELY, YOUVE GOT THE BIGGEST BRAIN ANON /POS

♡Drunk Sebastian Solace Headcannons♡

Warnings: Intoxication, Warnings to not Fuck The Fish™️, Brief Sexual Content

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

First off, getting him drunk isn’t gonna be easy

His body is significantly bigger so it’ll take a lot more alcohol than a normal human person

That and he could already hold his drinks well, so it’ll take some work to get that man actually drunk instead of just buzzed

Don’t try to match him drink for drink, you WILL die of alcohol poisoning unless you’re an alcoholic

Which wouldn’t matter he’d still out drink you based on weight/size alone, so I guess try not to die is the only goal?

Doesn’t feel comfortable drunk around most people unless you’re BOTH that kind of tipsy or he’s already close with you

When you do actually get him drunk?

The flirtiest, giggliest drunk you’re ever met

Sebastian will laugh at literally everything, it makes him so much easier to talk with

The world is sunshine and rainbows as long as he’s really fucked up

Honestly? He deserves it. He’ll smile at you so softly and actually fully listen when you talk. Maybe he’s not the brightest, or most talkative, but he has weirdly good advice

Though he is super giggly and playful, he does flirt

Usually they’re kind of fun. They’re not meant to really invoke any real feelings

“Hey there hot stuff, you lookin for a chair?” As he pats a portion of his tail.

He WILL forget that he flirted with you later, so don’t try to corner him on it as some kind of gotcha moment. He won’t believe you.

It also doesn’t reflect his feelings entirely…well unless he really likes you.

He’ll get a bit tongue tied and may even let it slip that he thinks you’re just gorgeous

His flirting gets very personal if he has a thing for you, but it’s less frequent because the man is too busy squirming from just sitting with you

Think flustered school girl energy

If he likes you he will do ANYTHING you ask

Please don’t try to fuck the fish, he isn’t very smart and he’s not gonna be able to top you

You’d have to do 100% of the work, and he wouldn’t remember most of it tomorrow anyway

He will probably just fall into a fit of giggles at the offer, honestly, so the likelihood of it happening is like nothing

So unless you’re both so drunk you’re not thinking straight? Don’t do it. Dont even try it.

If he doesn’t like you in that way? You might actually die for attempting it. It’s not worth it.

Speaking of not worth it, that man loses so much motor function. His tail is apparently weirdly hard to control all the way

Will prefer to just sit with you and not go anywhere as he will not have the control necessary to do damn near anything

He tried only once to go do something while really fucked up

Stupid fishman got stuck in a vent for a few hours

Worst experience of his life, (drunk fishman claims) he would never ever do it again

He’s the kind of man that sings when he’s drunk too, but only if you do it with him. He mimics like a parrot.

Or if you manage to play songs with him somehow, he might sing them if he vibes with or knows the song

Get a man to sing your favorite songs horribly at an octave that outright hurts

Idk something like California Girls by Katy Perry? Have fun with it

He can’t exactly dance really well but he might do a fun little shimmy if the music pleases him enough

Have fun doing your shared little dances, drinking to forget (always remembering), and laughing about nonsense

I’m sure, as long as you get him something strong and a whole lot of it

The both of you will get along fine!

After all, he likes people that get him gifts like this a little more

[vinylfoxbooks]

October 11 - Touch | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 658

“Reggie’s dating someone.” Are the first words out of Sirius’ mouth upon him entering the flat, slamming the door behind him. 

“Hello my favourite people in the world,” James hums from the kitchen, “I’m home, how have your days been?”

“Hello my Moony,” Remus adds on, pausing to take a sip from his tea, “Lunch with my brother was lovely, how was your lazy day?”

Sirius scoffs at the two of them, “Yeah, yeah, keep on like that.” He sighs, settling on the barstool as a happy medium between the kitchen -- where James is making something that smells absolutely divine, as they tend to do -- and where Remus has closed his book, turning to look at Sirius but making no move to stand, “Reggie’s dating someone and he won’t tell me who it is?”

James makes something akin to a choking sound, “And how do you know this?” 

“Because he was all smiley today at lunch.” Sirius throws his arms up, “He’d check his phone and smile at it and text whoever he was smiling about. And the jumper that he was wearing? Not his jumper.”

“And how do you know that it wasn’t his jumper?” Remus pushes, “You don’t know his entire closet.”

“And even then, it could be one of his friends, I can see Barty, Evan, and him stealing each other’s clothes.” James adds, pulling a pan of bread out of the oven and setting it next to a cooling rack. 

“Yeah, but it was colourful and he doesn’t wear colourful clothes. Not even Barty or Evan do. And how can you explain how smiley he was?”

Remus hums, “So say that he is dating someone, why are you throwing such a fit about it?”

“I’m not throwing a fit about it,” Sirius huffs, crossing his arms as if to prove his boyfriend’s point, “I’m just… first of all, why wouldn’t he tell me, his big brother that he has lunch with every weekend, that he was seeing someone? Or even just talking to someone?”

“You don’t dictate his life, he doesn’t need to tell you.”

“You’re an only child, you have no room to speak. Anyways, but I’m also just… confused. I mean, Regulus hates touch and he gets annoyed with people really easily, especially clingy people, and I figure that this person is clingy when they’re texting him that often, and he doesn’t seem like a particularly romantic type.”

“Merlin, James,” Regulus laughs, pushing James away from him, “You’re rather clingy.”

James laughs, “You’re acting like you haven’t just cuddled up against me all day.” 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“That’s because you don’t listen to me ever.” James smiles, poking their boyfriend’s shoulder, “What was it you said the other day? Most of what comes out of my mouth is just nonsense prattle.”

“Oh but that doesn’t mean I don’t listen to it, I just don’t retain most of what you say.” Regulus smiles, curling into their shoulder when they outstretch their arm for him to go under, leaning his entire body weight against them. 

James smiles,  “You love me so much.”

“Unfortunately.” He sighs, though his words don’t have much punch to them when he leans up to kiss the taller.

James hums, pretending to be busy with their mixing the dough that they’re working on -- the same dough that has been mixed properly since Sirius sat down -- as a way to get out of talking for fear that they’re going caught in their lie. Oh if only Sirius knew just how much Regulus loves when James touches him, even something as light as resting their pinky on his own or brushing their hand through his hair to sort out the curls. And how he loves just how talkative James can be when he’s too tired to try talking and relies on James to fill the silence.If they’re being honest, they’re shocked that it took Sirius this long to realise that Regulus was going out with someone. The next question is how long it’ll take before he learns who it is that he’s seeing.

[chiliyue-archived]

cause i love to love, to love, to love you

↬ in which you have him all lovesick and smiles

includes; dazai, chūya, atsushi, fyodor

notes; i am gonna pretend i didn’t disappear for 2-3 months. this has been in my drafts for so long :( i tried to clean it up as much as i could but it’s really old jfjdks

DAZAI

dazai appears happy. present tense.

his typical inquiries for double suicides came to lessen to conscious degree, substituting in drinking sake together when the sun cowers, nothing but a string of nonsensical chatter proceeding each sip.

he was sticky like that: unannounced visits, impromptu phone calls, sudden changes in his schedule to accommodate yours. in any case, he isn’t one to shy from stooping as low as whining if it rewards him with your familiar face.

( his windpipes splinter before he could mutter it out loud, but the solitude that’s wedged deep in his bones for so long felt lighter when you were near. he questions how long such benevolence would last before becoming sullied by his hand… ).

…and yet all things considered, it hasn’t deterred him from courting you nonetheless. at times he can’t help but think he’s taken a bite of his own medicine when he’s the one skipping around like a helpless maiden.

and yet again in spite of it all, his brazenness remains perpetually untouched as ever. he entertains different approaches if only to coax out a new reaction from you and he’s not bashful in the slightest. so much so, he remains unruffled even under the scrutiny of your coworkers.

. . .

“ this is highly unprofessional.”

“ don’t be so mean, bella. don’t you know how much i missed you?”

your eyes flit down to the man currently using your lap as a headrest, the rest of his body stretching over the expanse of the couch. he was shameless, that much was certain, but his ability to remain unperturbed whilst in his lovey dovey state was impressive. you cocked a brow, sighing.

“ osamu.” his lips visually twitched at the call of his name; it’s a word warm on your tongue but leaves the hairs on his nape at your mercy anyway. " you saw me fifteen minutes ago—”

“ twenty.” he corrected, cheeky (and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled that number out his ass). “ but it was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”

he was unrepentant as ever, experimentally positioning his head to rest on the plush on your thighs. by muscle memory, he began to absently draw shapes wherever he could reach, a crude rendition of stars decorating over the bend of your knee.

he smiles innocently when you squint at him, the gleam in his eyes unwavering. “ only a couple more minutes and i would have been yours,” you mutter out, your voice not as sturdy as you hoped. “ at home.”

dazai almost turns pouty at that. almost. “ but my love, i’ve missed you like crazy. twenty minutes is too long, how can i possibly manage?” the words come out through a breathy exhale and you watch as his lashes kiss his cheeks when he flutters them closed. “ all i could think about is you. and now i have you right here.” he hopes his words carry as much truth as the way his heart does, scurrying away the cold that's mocked him for so long. “ can’t we just stay like this a little longer? pretty please?”

resigned to your fate, you could only clamor your palms over your features— if only to salvage your waning dignity from your coworkers.

unfortunate though… that in doing so you miss the blissful smile curling on his lips as he peeks at you from below. and atsushi notes(after throughly grimacing, not expecting him to be so blunt), it reaches his eyes too.

CHŪYA

" chūya-"

" you can't flirt with me. i have a partner."

terse, stubborn and slurred. if the groggy voice wasn’t enough to confirm your suspicions, the shit-face look belonging to your boyfriend did. he was drunk. wasted if you were to speak bluntly.

in truth, it really doesn’t come off as much of a surprise; his ability to hold his liquor was nothing to brag of (despite what he may profusely argue) and you’re half-convinced he’s already forgotten his own name.

still, you don’t loosen your grip on his sleeve even under the figurative holes he’s burned with his stare. “ chūya. i am your partner.”

“you—! wha-!” his voice erupts into a sudden warble, eyes akin to saucers. " you… you are??"

he takes what’s left of his thinning rationality to study you proper; the style of your hair, your clothing, the smell of perfume/cologne, the familiar quirk of your lips—

oh, he thinks as you push back the loose bangs veiling his face. he doesn’t make any attempts to move, feet stalled and eyes blinking, evidently stunned.

you decide to press on. “ do i look familiar now…?” the lilit of your voice grazes against his ear, plucking out a faint memory tucked somewhere in the crevice of his fuzzy head.

oh. he thinks twice, the stern look bruising his face thawing.

without realizing it, he squares his shoulders in any attempt to remedy his current disheveled appearance, slumped posture pulled taut in— what he hopes— was a more put together frame. conversely, he wobbles on his feet when you continue to eat away at the distance, the ghost of your touch pushing pinpricks into his skin.

“ you’re- you’re really all mine…?” he cringes as soon as it leaves his mouth, coming off eager and hopeful. something like a laugh escapes you and he can’t tell if that’s what made his stomach turn or the alcohol. perhaps both.

“ that’s what i’ve been trying to tell you. you’re so stubborn when you’re drunk.” you punctuate the words with a kiss to his cheek, now warm with revelation. chūya, exhausting the last bits of his energy, shrinks beneath it, a gloved hand clutching his reddened face defensively.

“ why haven’t i made you my spouse yet?” he remarks it so suddenly, you nearly choke on air. he can’t even comprehend what you say thereafter or register the look beginning to contort your features, nothing but liquid courage keeping him afloat.

but- well, if there’s anything the haze trotting his head and his thinning cognition could agree on, it’s that your ring finger appears a little too barren for his liking.

( but not for much longer, he hopes )

ATSUSHI

the sudden change in atsushi’s behavior was a notable observation within the ADA, many of whom watched as the weretiger became stupefied by a face belonging to you. it wasn’t long before concluding it was all the result of a crush; the culprit of which being atsushi himself who played his hand poorly at discretion.

the lovesick chatter would leave his mouth without much rationality, waxing of "[name] this" or "[name] that," and effectively becoming on the receiving end of his praises. it was almost a routine of sorts, occupied by stutters, belated responses and his fidgety footfalls. by the end of it, he fruitlessly attempts to steady his rabbiting heart— if only to stop his blush from staining beyond his cheeks.

even now as he silhouettes by the agency door, the rattle of rain is deafened by the rush of blood to his ears. he anxiously worries the handle of the umbrella in his palms, bouncing from one sole of his feet to the other. should he just ask you? maybe he should wait… now that he thinks about it would be more appropriate to just leav—

“ damn it.” he perks at your sound of displeasure, his heart spiking. “ so much for leaving in a hurry…” you stiffen, realizing you have nothing but a coat protect you from the weather. the flimsy jacket you hurriedly plucked from your wardrobe only added flavor to your disappointment.

atsushi doesn’t miss the opportunity; his feet carries him to you before the unpleasant voice lurking deep in his subconscious bullies him otherwise. “ we can share,” he gestures to his own, silently praying his voice was leveled. it wobbles anyway and by now his knuckles are sheen white as a product of his nerves.

with the organ jumping around in his chest, he almost doesn’t register your ‘thank you,’ only that his fingers were quickly undoing the straps of the umbrella before you could change your mind ( he impulsively bought it earlier that day— his previous pair worned out and far too tiny for two people. but when you thank him with a kind smile, hands slightly brushing with each step, he argues it was the best 800 yen he’s ever spent ).

… that said, a more appropriate question is how you managed to remain naive to all his pining for so long— he’s become despairingly obvious against his own good and yet he can’t find it in himself to change himself, a perpetual lovesick look copy and pasted whenever you entered his proximity.

the same can't be said to everyone else however and he wasn’t particularly pleased when he caught wind of the bets exchanged among his treacherous colleagues. he fears it's only a matter of time before one of them blabs their tongue to you. at this rate, perhaps one of them should.

. . .

" y'know atsushi," ranpo once said, offering his companion a gleaming simper. " you reallllyyy talk about [name] a lot."

"oh.”

his heart flutters, eyes slowly blinking.

" yeah,” he smiles. “ i guess i do.”

FYODOR

" you've been awfully quiet, my dear." fyodor’s voice was just loud enough over the sound of clashing cutlery, fixing you a gaze of genuine interest. " is the meal not to your liking?"

you feel your lips twist into a frown. for being attentive, he (for once) falsely saunters pass the source of your displeasure, failing to recognize the extent of your internal woes. " no- no-" you fidget with your fingers, ignoring the way your propped elbows skidded against the table. the behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by the former, who takes it upon himself to hook his index fingers with yours. “ there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask of you. a… request of sorts.”

“ what is it? i’ll have it shipped to you by the end of the week,” he offers generously though it quickly fades into a confused hum when you shake your head at the proposition.

" it isn’t something you can buy…” you drop your gaze from him to the scantly poked portions of cuisine on your plate. fearing he may misinterpret your words and assume it to be unattainable - perhaps gifting you something ludicrous as a piece of land - you amended quickly. " it’s not what you assume to be either.”

at that, he bums questioningly. “ then what displeases you, my darling?” he provides a faint squeeze to your hand, igniting something warm and paradoxical to his thin layer of frigid skin. “ what can i offer to rid you that frown?”

" just your company.”

" my company?"

" yes." perplexed, he cocks his head; an invitation. willing an inhale to your lungs, you took a moment to gather possession of your words. “ these days you've been rather occupied. i was hoping for perhaps… if we may spend some time together?"

fyodor appears vaguely surprised by that, something unfamiliar fortifying around him. requesting his time felt like a hefty expenditure just in itself and it wasn’t too far fetched to assume he’ll disregard it in favor of some plot embellishing deep within his brain. but a swift refusal never comes.

“ i see,” he finally says after a brief pause. his voice was so soft you wondered if it was meant for you to hear.

it's grows quiet before he speaks again, the fingers curled around your hand withdrawing but not before providing the tips a delicate squeeze. " i can arrange some time tomorrow for you,” he proffers. “ will that satisfy your request, myshka?"

hardly anything can catch fyodor off guard, but something had to be said in the way you brightened at the suggestion, a deep curve coasting over your lips. how pleasant you are.

" yes," you hastily replied, dipping your head slightly. " more than perfect. thank you."

the way your lineaments crossed into a smile was always enduring to observe — exasperated, but one he wouldn’t mind seeing tomorrow knowing he was the cause for such elation.

( idly, he wonders what he can do to see it again ).

A/N !

i’ve been meaning to post this for months but it’s so old & i never quite (and still kinda don’t) liked it :(( fyodor’s is bit ooc jfjdkskla

彡 [BSD m.list]

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandiss @4nthonyyliving @guacamoleroll @sunnyx07 @shiopi

join or be removed here

[stsgooo]

The Moonlight Goddess.

✩࿐ summary: the toy that got tucked away, would eventually come back out to play.

warning(s): chapter 48.2 manga spoilers, unedited. wc; 3.2k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader

a/n: caught up on the manga, feeling incredibly deranged. i will Not be speaking about chapter 65 as that was the craziest experience i've ever had at 1 am. also, i'll be reading the light novel soon :)) anyway, i hope you enjoy this random thing i cooked up.

part ii m.list ao3

WHEN MAOMAO SUGGESTED JINSHI TAKE THE PLACE OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, YOU WEREN’T ENTIRELY CONVINCED.

Sure, your master was a beautiful man who had won the lottery of genetics. But you weren’t sure if he could convince beautiful western women that he of the same level, if not above, as them. It wasn’t a slight towards him. A lack of confidence in his abilities. But the mere fact that this issue itself was presented as nonsense. Achievable for a god, perhaps. But not for someone as simple as Jinshi.

It’d been 50 years since the last time the convery had last visited and spotted this beautiful woman. Surely, these girls were aware of the effects of time and how… unkind it could be to some?

It all smelt bad.

“Uh, Maomao, are we sure this is the absolute best approach for this matter?” You had asked as the three others had come to some general consensus amongst each other.

Maomao had stared at you flatly and, for a moment, you ponder if she even knew who you were. “Have you ever dealt with unruly women, Y/N?” She asked in her usual monotonous manner.

You blinked, expression equally as flat as you regarded the younger girl for a beat. Her time at Jinshi’s home had been spent, primarily, with you and Suiren. It was fond to look back on, but the two months had been stressful and the girl was rather difficult to work with. She drug you around on one or two of her little investigations. Much to the disdain of you both. The only compliment she paid you in that time was that you were quick on your feet and able to keep up with. Something that you guessed wasn’t common.

Yes, you are rather unruly, Maomao. Was the reoccurring and unkind thought that passed through your mind.

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of unruly people.” You opted to answer instead.

The girl raised an eyebrow, “Women?”

You deflated, “Many.”

Unfortunately, being Jinshi’s maid had meant you had your encounters with women who, blinded by their fondness for him, would attempt to make random walk-ins. Something strictly forbidden unless it was the upmost emergency. Despite them being the ones in the wrong, it was usually you who suffered the brunt of their abuse until Gaoshun finally decided to inquire what was wrong.

You were quite used to unruly women.

Unknowingly, you'd guaranteed your place in Maomao's plan.

She placed her fingers against her chin, eyes squinted on you. "Do you use makeup often?"

You blink, a weary frown on your lips. "What?"

"Are you familiar with makeup and hair, Y/N?"

"Of course I am." What did she take you for? A lazy uneducated lady?

Maomao grinned, something that was dark and twisted, and you felt like you had somehow stumbled into a terrible trap. "Wonderful, you'll help with Jinshi-sama's makeup!"

"Wha- no, I-I have my--" You attempted to decline, but were quickly cut off.

"That's a great idea," Jinshi spoke up, looking rather delightful as his eyes moved to you. "No one I would trust more with this."

Seeing the glint in his eyes and the kind smile, you knew you could no longer remove yourself from this plan. With a bowed head, you turned to Maomao, prepared to receive your duty.

You suppose this is how you ended up here. Maomao and Gaoshun out to find an outfit that would suit the Moonlight Goddess. And you awfully close to Jinshi's face as you carefully apply the eye makeup.

Silently, you were thankful that he had his eyes closed, as his violet eyes endlessly and innocently staring back into yours would surely make your heart stop. The work had been silent for the most part. The both of you uttering only what was needed: close your eyes, please look up, tilt your head to the side. It was the easy back and forth you both fell into.

It made you realize that most of your companionship with Jinshi had primarily been in silence. You simply deciphering exactly what he wanted from the twitch in his brow or the look he would shoot. It'd never really been on your mind before. Although, it had always been an easy agreement between you that shouldn't be brought to question or pondered upon too much. Ever since the both of you were children. Ever since you were just being trained for the duties that would be carried out in the rest of your adult life. You'd both just been in this tiptoe waltz that carried you through life.

He didn't pry too much into your personal dealings and you never questioned his demands as your master.

Life was, in all ways, easy.

But still, you felt as though this plan was toeing a line. Asking too much, underestimating the intelligence of another.

You supposed Maomao was like that and Jinshi would easily follow her word.

Maomao. Jinshi. Maomao and Jinshi.

They are quite the duo recently. You knew it would be nothing good the moment he'd called for her in Lady Gyokuyou's with that glint in his eyes. The eagerness and curiosity similar to that of a child. The way he sought her out at any given opportunity. If you had to guess, you would say Jinshi is rather fond of dear Maomao.

It made you sigh heavily, your eyes narrowed on the liner that looked a little wobbly.

"Any mistakes, you can just retry, don't stress yourself." Jinshi spoke, assuming that your sigh was related to the unsteady line rather than the trail of thoughts plaguing your mind.

You blink, eyes focused on the kind smile that stretched over his lips. A slight pitter-patter took your chest. "No worries, Jinshi-sama, I won't ruin your looks." You shoot back, softly.

Jinshi's eyebrows raised, a soft snort released. "Oh, really? Are you teasing me now?"

"I do have the ability to joke here and there, sir."

"You barely do anymore. Joke, that is." Jinshi observed, a subtle frown on his lips as you applied a bit of glimmer to his eye lids. "You're very serious now, very on edge."

"These are serious times, Jinshi-sama." You replied back smoothly, feeling an indescribable ache in your chest. "I'm sorry if I'm not entirely entertaining."

Jinshi's frown seemed to deepen. And, suddenly, his fingers were wrapped around your wrist and his eyes were open to reveal the clandestine violets that glimmered into your very soul. His hold felt warm and all encompassing, a disorienting welcoming feeling that made you falter in your work. Frozen, you offered him your undivided attention as he appeared to struggle with himself. gave him your undivided attention. His brows were furrowed and the frown on his lips was entirely too childish for the man he claimed to be. His lips parted and he released a sound akin to frustration. He huffed and huffed and huffed. Then he stared into your soul-- still, he couldn't seem to find the proper words for his thoughts.

One of the many things that Jinshi struggled with often is that he simply had a greater outlook on life while being so terribly confined. A childish optimism that should've left him once he was grown, clung to his soul desperately and gave him a more bountiful outlook on people and life. He knew the risks, he knew the dangers, he knew the nastiness of the world, but still stayed kind.

You know it was one of the many things his mother tried to change about him. That and his attachment to things. That was something you'd encountered first hand.

"You have your reservations about this, I can tell."

When he spoke, you weren't entirely sure what he'd say. There were times he was too insightful, too smart for his own good. It used to amuse you, now you only worried when it'd come across as unseemly.

Jinshi stared up at you, glittering eyes kind and approachable, his fingers squeezed gently around your wrist. "I don't want you to feel like you can't speak your mind." He continued as if he had no idea who you were. What you were. What you were to him.

Your gaze bounced between his own, a small frown breaking the perfect exterior you always desperately kept up. Maybe he was still stuck in the past. Maybe he was still enchanted by who you both used to be to one another.

The past was usually more lovely than a future unseen.

"I'm actually told not to voice my mind."

"By who?"

"Everyone."

There's a moment where Jinshi looks as if he's remembering something. Something distinct and obvious. Something that he had completely disregarded in the back of his mind for whatever reason, for however long. It must be pleasant, to not be constantly reminded that the people around you are paid or contracted to be by your side. Must be nice to have a choice.

Master. Servant. Master and servant.

That is all you and Jinshi shall ever be.

"I see," He uttered, eyes briefly tracing the tiles on the floor before fluttering back up to you with a new spark of determination. "But I'm ordering to speak your mind! Freely!"

You stared back flatly in return. Was he oblivious what freely meant? Ordering me and then saying it's of my own volition can't both be true.

Jinshi would put you into early death.

"Well, I, uh," you found his eyes to be too vibrant, to be staring too intensely and too welcoming. You turned your gaze away, desperate to grab some type of bearings over yourself. But, alas, his hand was still wrapped around your own. His skin scorched yours, tainted it with the warmth that was all his. "I think that this plan will not go entirely as you all hope."

"Is that so?" His voice is like a smooth honey, soft and all too endearing.

You hum, nodding, "Yes, uh, I believe they want you to fail, sir. And to have a rather unsavory thing to report back." Jinshi simply hummed in response. You could feel his eyes almost stroking against the side of your face. "I just think that they won't react the way you and Maomao hope they will. This is no slight to your or her intelligence, of course. Just a mere observation."

"I know what you mean, no worries." Jinshin's thumb was now slowly and softly stroking the butt of your palm. A soothing action that brought your eyes back to him. Captured in the way he serenely observed you. "What exactly about this makes you uneasy? Maybe I can ease you."

It didn't sound like an offer, but a promise. If his words weren't enough, his eyebrows were drawn together in careful contemplation. He wasn't going to walk away from this conversation without you both reassured in some capacity.

"What if they want to talk to you?"

Jinshi might had fair and delicate features, and a soft voice, but it wasn't nearly feminine enough to pass. If anything, they'd grow more suspicious. Then they'd report back about what a joke they all were and then Jinshi could suffer some type of punishment for his embarrassment. It wasn't that you were too pessimistic or didn't believe in the little group, but that the women's request felt bad all around.

A set-up if anything.

So, you took a deep breath and focused on that reassuring circle being drawn into your skin as Jinshi contemplated this for only a moment.

"Then I'll have the apothecary cover for me." Jinshi smiled, all too bright and all too reassuring. "We've already decided that I'll swim across the pond-- give me a vanishing effect and she'll deter them elsewhere."

You furrow your brow, all too worried, but bow your head instead of voicing such. "Of course, I have no doubt in you, Jinshi-sama." You reassure.

There was a beat of silence, then, "You're my oldest friend, you know?" You tense. Frozen into you bow, your wide eyes stare endlessly at his feet. His tone is tender, soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he should be speaking these things aloud. Yet, he continued. "You're the only one, beside Gaoshun and Suiren, that has stuck by me without judgement or doubt. I thank you for that, but I also fear that we've grown apart."

"I suppose we have." You uttered, trying to ignore the clench in your chest.

"Even as children, we started to grow apart." He continued to observe.

Because of your mother. Because of her fear that you'd end up like him, like your father. That disgusting and vile man. How could she not know you'd never be like him?

There was a day, a very distinct day, that you and Jinshi had been separated for "his own good". Your birthday. You had waited him eagerly in the main courtyard, being able to slip away from your duties out of kindness from Suiren. You waited and waited, until Gaoshun had approached. His expression downtrodden and dark. He informed you that it was no longer proper for you to play around with the boy you so dearly adored. Said his mother commanded it.

If he plays with a toy too much, take it from him.

You used to be bitter, resentful, and angry over it. Only eight-years-old, you had clung onto any companionship you could and he had given the illusion that he'd be there forever. Until he wasn't. Until you were a toy to be tucked back into the chest, forever forgotten with time.

He would be there forever, but you only merely a pawn for him to use as he pleased. To do work and to never grace the same level as you had when you both were only children, not yet exposed to hierarchy. Pure and innocent.

Now, you were mere servant and master.

Finally, you willed yourself to pull away from his hold, turning around to pick through various hair products. "It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. We're no longer children."

"Hm."

As you reached for a brush, he pressed against your back. His hands coming to rest against your own with a delicate, featherlike touch. He was suddenly surrounding your ever sense. His warmth enveloping you into a hug that was almost earth shattering. Your lips parted and your eyes wide, you tensed as his lips brushed against the top of your head.

"I think of you often," his words are a whisper against you and your eyes, if possible, widen further as you almost lean back into him. "I sometimes wish I could just reach out and...and hold you, like we used to. Is that so bad?"

"Jinshi-sama, this is rather inappropriate!" You whisper back, not daring to look back at him in fear for how quickly you'd crumble.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating from his chest into your back and sending various chills down your spine. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, then please, tell me."

You don't open your mouth, as much as you wished you would deter him, you were rather eager to keep this up for a moment longer. To have something to think about and something to cherish later. Surely, this wouldn't happen again.

Instead, your attention goes to keeping your heart steady as Jinshi gently turns you around. His eyes heavy as he stares at you earnestly, lips quirked up barely. Your hands came up to clutch his forearm, gently squeezing as he did the same with your shoulder. You felt your heart stammer and a sweat collecting on your brow, this was definitely something frowned upon. To be so close and to breathe his same air-- as he exhaled, you inhaled the rich oxygen.

Suddenly, Jinshi's eyebrows furrowed and his fingers reached out, gently tucking some hair from your face. "What did they teach you to make you tremble like this?" He whispered it to himself but, thanks to your proximity, you heard it.

It made your ears redden, your lips pressed together. Did he really not know?

Before you could even speak, the door to his room were opened. Both your heads snapped to the door where Maomao and Gaoshun stood, both varying degrees of expressions on their faces that brought shame to you both. The four of your frozen in your respective places, staring at one another dumbly. Your hold on your master slackened and Jinshi took that as a sign to move first.

Jinshi made a rather odd noise, jumping away from you, face red and wide awkward smile to the two at the door. "Did you find the goods?" He asked as he approached, nervous fingers moving about.

Maomao, bless her soul, decided to ignore whatever it was they had walked in on, moving forward with a bundle of things in her arms. "Yes, Jinshi-sama."

You nervously pulled yourself from the table, turning your back to the three, hoping to conceal the red hue on your face. You really, really, hoped that no one would say anything.

Your hopes were tarnished as Gaoshun stepped up beside you.

The man was family. He'd been there for every milestone, or the rather unruly years when you found yourself in trouble more often than not. You'd grown accustomed to reading into his expressions more than his words. He was more open there, his only weakness.

That's why you withered when you saw that aghast expression on his face. The glimmer in his eyes that said it all-- he knew what was happening.

You ducked your head at the same time you heard Maomao ask, "Why isn't your hair done?"

You mustn't get ideas above your station. You are there to serve your master. Nothing less, nothing more.

That is the first thing that they taught you when you were "of age".

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

That's the second thing they taught you.

There were many things that contributed to your regression. That made you cower away from who you used to be. Going from a loud troublemaker to the polite, obedient lady that lived to serve her kind master.

But as you watched Jinshi, or more correctly, the Moonlight Goddess dance elegantly at the edge of the pond. As you witnessed the light hit just right an illuminate him in a way that would send even the most beautiful angel into a rage. You realized one thing.

You would never tell Jinshi of those things.

Someone as beautiful and perfect as him, untouched from the life that you lead, shouldn't be exposed to the things he confined you to.

All you could do was gaze upon the Moonlight Goddess, utter your most daunting praises and wants, and tuck it all away.

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

You were a lowly maid after all. Someone so dignified and beautiful wouldn't settle for you.

"My hair is still wet!" Jinshi's voice bounced off the walls, a scowl etched on his face.

You bowed your head as you entered, towel tucked in your arms. "I have a towel for you, Jinshi-sama."

As you ruffled his hair with the towel, watching his shoulders relaxed you thanked the Moonlight Goddess.

A coward like you would never belong with a Goddess like him.

[huexuri]

!! keep talking ⋆ — k.th

NSFW, MDNI!!!

summary: smut w little plot, taehyun likes ur voice like a bit too much

warnings: fem!reader, switch!reader, switch!tyun, lots of dirty talk, pillow humping, masturbating, video call mutual masturbating

wc: 1.9k

taehyun misses your voice. a lot.

the both of you used to live in the same apartment to accommodate transportation to your designated campuses. until, taehyun had found a more convenient place to stay for a while before he would come back to live with you.

it was supposed to be just a few months, but those few months felt like years to taehyun. he missed the way you would come home and talk to him about things that happened that day, ramble to him about useless things. he never really paid attention to your silly stories; he only ever really enjoyed listening to the tone of your voice, the way the words roll off your tongue like butter. it's like music to his ears, the way your voice sounds like silk to him. he'd listen to you ramble on forever if he could.

especially when you sing your favorite songs over and over again, bustling around in the kitchen for any snacks, taehyun always thought of you as a smart girl with a pretty face and the voice of an angel.

he never expected he'd miss your voice so much.

so much so, he'd simply grow hard listening to your voicemails — feeling as if he's deprived of your voice, he's replaying them over and over again, wishing it was whatever you said whispered in his ear, even better if that voice of yours is put to use, moaning in his ear and calling out his name as you grind down on him; making sure all that rings in his puny head for the rest of his life are your moans.

my god, your voice. it's dizzying to him, hypnotizing even. he doesn't know what it is in your voice that he loves so much. like some type of drug. he loves everything about you as his best friend — but your voice,, it's everything to him.

so, imagine the guilt that washes over him when you ask if you could video call with him and play games. he's going to hear your voice for the first time in forever. shouldn't he be ecstatic?

no, because he knows he's going to fucking bust the moment you start to speak.

“taehyun? why isn't your camera on?” you spoke through the phone, half your face in frame.

“no, nothing. if i turn on my camera it'll be very laggy.” taehyun chuckled, a tinge of fluster behind his words.

“okay then! you should join me now, i'm already in game. i sent you the code earlier.” you said before putting your phone down so your camera faces the ceiling.

“o-okay.”

you guys played for a few rounds before talking again, and taehyun doesn't know how he survived listening to you yap for the entire time the both of you were playing. not in a bad way, but in a way where he's surprised and relieved he didn't make a mess of his shorts.

"anyways, finals are killing me. i feel like i've been living in the library," you complained like you usually would.

"ugh, tell me about it!” taehyun scoffed as he waited for you to continue the conversation.

"organic chem is so hard. it's like a bunch of nonsense i'm looking at.” you continued.

"at least you're not doing what i'm doing. it's like a different language. i keep questioning my life choices every time i open the textbook," taehyun said, his voice slightly shaky, but you thought nothing of it.

you nod at the camera. “uh huh, i get you. these days i think i've been okay though? i hung out with sumin and yeeun at karaoke recently. you know, we sang till our throats were hoarse. and also—”

your words go in one of taehyun's ears and come out the other. no, to him that's not important, not as important as the sound of you talking. all he can think of is how he's filled with guilt as he slips a fist beneath his boxers, grabbing onto his already leaking erection and jerking off… to your voice.

i'm really sorry, the thought rings in his head over and over again as his cock springs out of his boxers the more he pulls his waistband down to his thighs, leaning back against his gaming chair.

the tip of his cock glossy and starting to become a pinkish hue, he pleasures himself, free hand clutching his headphones to listen to your voice clearer, increasing the volume of the call.

he bites his lips as he closes his eyes as he starts to near his high.

“—she literally bumped into me and didn't say anything! she looked at me up and down with a dirty look, like i swear i would've—” you go silent. “taehyun?” you suddenly ask.

taehyun jolts from his seat, letting go of his cock as he readjusts his position.

“y-yeah? what?” he responds, throat dry as his adam's apple bobs up and down.

“are you even listening?” you frown at him through the camera.

“yeah,, uh, of course i am.” taehyun clears his throat.

you sigh. “okay, because you're awfully quiet. anyways, so she hit me—”

fuck, that was close. he thinks. his hand slowly picks up it's pace and he's stroking his cock again, back arching against the backrest of the chair as he throws his head back, mouth slightly agape and huffing.

“i don't even know what's her problem! right, tae??” you ask for his approval.

“r-right, ss—aah, keep talking, ‘m so close,” he whispers, his voice cracking. he doesn't register why you went quiet for an awkward 10 seconds before it finally clicks and he clasps a hand over his mouth.

“taehyun.. are you touching yourself ...?” you realize why his camera is off and why he seemed like he wasn't listening. then, silence. “taehyu—”

“i'm so sorry, y/n!!” taehyun blurts out desperately, with nothing else to say, he goes quiet again. guilt travels all over his body in the form of goosebumps as he thinks of what kind of stupid pervert he is, when all you wanted to do with him was chat.

“fuck, dude. if you just wanted to jerk off to my voice you should've told me.”

“huh? wait what?” taehyun's eyes soften.

“it’s kinda hot.” you mumbled as you shifted your camera down to your chest, touching it and rubbing the plushness. “come on, turn on your camera. don't be shy.” you said in a more demanding tone, testing the waters on what he liked the most.

“fuck, y/n, don't do this to me. your voice is…” taehyun sighed as he turned on his camera, showing his fucked out face, hazy eyes and swollen pink lips, glossy with drool all over them.

“you have a thing for my voice?” you asked as you smiled, positioning your camera slightly far away from your chair so he could see you fully.

“i've loved your voice since the beginning of time, i just… i-i don't know. ever since i moved out i realized i collapsed at the sound of your voice just so much more easily..” taehyun also adjusts his camera perfectly so that the frame cuts at his lower abdomen. you can see his shirt ride up above his pecs and his abs slightly moist with sweat.

“tell me what you want me to say then, this is your chance.” you fondle with your clothed breasts in front of the camera, nipples perking up and visible on the cloth, and taehyun slightly flinches at the sight.

“sssshit, i can't focus when you look and sound like that, stop doing that.” taehyun trembles under his breath as he fists his cock again. you can see his hand moving but you can't see his cock out. for some reason, the excitement turned you on way more.

“it's okay, take your time.” you said gently as your hands traveled under your shirt.

“fuck, need you to moan so badly. just whatever, fucking need you to use that voice of yours. please.” taehyun begged, his voice raspy and out of it.

“really?” you grabbed a pillow nearby and placed it beneath you. wearing nothing but a pair of dolphin shorts, you held on to the chair as you rocked your hips back and forth, arching your back to find the angle, starting slow and throwing your head back.

“p-please watch me, tae. i'd grind on your cock like this if you were—aah, mmfh~” you found your pace, looking at your phone screen with dazed eyes. you see taehyun running his fingers through his disheveled hair, holding on to the headphones as he bites his lips and fists his cock at unimaginable speeds.

“talk,” he breathily orders as his hips jitter in his hands.

“show me you're jerking off first,” you said, and taehyun sits slightly further away from the camera, showing an angle of him fisting himself.

“yeah, stroking that cock because my voice turns you on that bad, huh?” you chuckle as you increase your pace, your cunt rubbing onto the surface of the silk pillowcase. “f-fuuuck, tyunnie. a-aah—feels so goddamn good, just wish you were here so badly—!”

“yeah? i'll fuck your ability to walk out of you if i were there right now, holy shit.” taehyun pants and groans as he spits onto his cockhead. “does it feel good? does my cock rubbing against your cunt feel good?” taehyun fists his shaft to simulate the pillow you're humping.

“yeah, oh fuck, fuckfuck—” your mouth is wide open and your head is thrown back as you ride the pillow at incomprehensible speeds, your pussy throbbing and pulsing against the fabric as your slick begins to stain the cover. “you'd feel even better inside me, mmh~”

“keep talking like that and i'll actually go insane, spewing nothing but filth out of that pretty mouth of yours.” taehyun's hips thrust upwards into his fist as he watches you reach your high.

“isn't that what you wanted, taehyun? got off of my voice because you wanted me to moan and whimper in your ear?” you continued to hump the pillow as you felt yourself go dizzy. “gonna cum, a-aah–!”

“you're gonna make me— holy shit,” taehyun's moans became irregular and gradually louder. eventually after you came back from seeing stars, you could see his load splattered all over his fist and abs.

you stared at the screen blankly, mind barely able to function as the both of you pant heavily.

“i'm coming back tomorrow, i don't care.” taehyun remarks as he puts his pants back on and wipes the stripes of cum off of his abdomen.

“isn't it inconvenie—”

“i don't care about conveniency as long as i get to fuck you immediately after i see you again.” taehyun firmly said with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his fucked out face.

“promise?” you said, smiling at the camera.

“promise.”

later that night, you're shocked to see taehyun standing at your door with a bunch of huge ass bags and a pair of his favorite sneakers.

“you're still holding on to what you said?” you asked him as you let him in with a giggle. “come, i'll help you put these things down first.”

“i don't make promises i can't keep, love. i missed that voice of yours so fucking much, you have no idea… over the phone was clearly not enough.”

you cleared your throat. “i think i do have an idea, after what happened this afternoon..”

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Tongue tied 🪶

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This only took me 3 months to finally get out..... 😃

ANYWAY, have some friends to lovers with Leon <3

The order is here -> 🎂

You and Leon have been attached by the hip for as long as you can remember. A secret written language is constructed by both of you to talk in class. Little does Leon know the letter you write to him years letter, encrypted in your language, contains the deepest parts of your heart and soul.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

If there was one way to describe you and Leon, it would be thick as thieves. Always have been and always will be. Ever since you first met on your first day of elementary school, the two of you have been inseparable.

You remember it well; the excitement that coursed through your little 6 year old veins of new beginnings, friends and more. Finally you were a big girl, ready to take on the world with a determined smile.

With confidence, you left your parents at the entrance with teary eyes and pride radiating off of them as you strutted into the building, tightly holding onto the straps of your new, sparkly backpack.

You listened closely to your new teacher and fellow classmates as they introduced themselves, the smile on your face a constant throughout the day.

However, when you stepped out into recess, taking in the monkey bars and swings with wide eyes, something -or rather someone- was barely fitting into your field of vision.

A boy with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes.

He was a good bit taller than you, no surprise really, but he kept his head low and fidgeted with the zipper on his blue police-themed schoolbag.

He seemed nervous and weary, only ever rasing his head when a rowdy child zoomed past him.

Although anxiety-ridden, he didn't strike you as unaware. He had his back pressed to a wooden structure in the back of the playground, overlooking the open space.

Your brows furrowed when you finally realized that he was all alone, and you couldn't have that!

Everyone needed a friend. And you, on this fateful day, decided to be his.

Same as you, Leon remembered that day like it only happened yesterday. How he sat in the back of the class, in the very last corner. Or how he was quiet and timid when the teacher asked for his name and age.

But he particularly remembers when a girl with a bright smile and colorful bows in her hair walked up to him, carefully as not to spook him, told him her name and complimented his backpack.

He thanks the universe for that day, for you, because you've been stuck at his side ever since.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Class was in full swing, the sound of your teacher speaking and the mildly uncomfortable scrape of chalk on the blackboard broke the stagnant silence in the room.

You glanced up from time to time, trying to seem like you were paying attention, when in reality you were constructing a letter to your best friend.

You were a good student, no doubt, but the urge to yap with Leon was greater than any unsolvable math equation.

So, when you two had a sleepover last weekend, you stayed up all night coming up with a secret written language between the both of you.

You hoped it would allow you to ask quite meaningless and maybe even funny questions in class without getting into too much trouble.

You hoped the teacher would write it off as nonsensical scribbles and you'd get away with a stern look.

You carefully drew the symbols you'd come up with, checking the translated alphabet that both you and Leon had a copy of in your pencil cases.

With the last stroke you stared down proudly at your somewhat neat work before folding the piece of paper and glancing at Leon with a subtle jerk of your head.

He grinned and stuck out his hand, waiting for you to place the letter into his palm. He sank back into his seat a little, unfolding the paper and discreetly turning his eyes to the note in his hands.

When he looked up again to check his translation sheet, the teacher stood in front of his desk, arms crossed over her chest and displeased expression on her face.

"What have I said about notes in class, hm? Hand it over." She said coldly, opening her hand.

Leon grumbled, his head hanging low as he hestiated.

"Give it."

Her tone was warning, and with a slight scowl on his face, he crumbled up the paper and layed it in her palm.

Promptly, she smoothed out the note and tried to read it, only to fail miserably with a confused and irritated look.

"What's this? It's just scribbled nonsense!" She exclaimed.

You and Leon both stifled a laugh, shooting a glanced at the other. The teacher scowled and the letter creased beneath her grip.

"Don't waste my time." She scolded before tossing away the paper and continuing her teaching, always keeping an eye

on you and Leon while the both of you giggled in the back.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Those memories and many more played in your head as you sat hunched over your desk in the middle of the night, staring at a blank piece of paper. The light was starting to burn your eyes and you could feel a subtle ache crawl up your spine as Sleep beckoned you sweetly into its embrace.

You sighed deeply, rubbing at your eyes. Never in a million years had you thought you'd end in a situation like this.

The older you got, the more did your feelings for Leon change. From a strong and pure childhood friendship into a harmless crush that turned into being so in love with him that every second spend away from him was torture.

You needed to get it out. To see if he -a one in a million chance- felt the same about you and would end your suffering.

But you couldn't say it straight to his face, no, the thought alone was mortifying. The fear of rejection clasping its hand around your throat so tightly that no words would come out.

So, you thought out your options; tell him via a text message? God, the most impersonal ways of it all, a hard no.

Have a messenger deliver the news? You really didn't want to get anyone else involved, but if you had to, you'd ask Claire, a good friend from several of your classes.

And then, when you went through your old school supplies on a nostalgic night, you found the, albeit faded and worn, guide to your secret language.

And now, you had your way of confessing your love for him without seeming like a cowardly bitch or dying of embarrassment and shame.

Still, all words alluded you. You knew how you were going to say it, but not what you would say.

All these feelings that you've had felt wrong, something that should be hidden and locked away. After all this time of pushing them down, it was hard to let them spill.

It was almost impossible to release them from their heavy chains without losing control. But if you'd keep them trapped for any longer, you'd run the risk of having them wither away and die like a flower in a barren desert.

You tugged at your hair, a sound of frustration escaping your lips at your inability to think of even a single phrase.

With an unsteady grip on your pen, all you managed to get down was 'Dear Leon,'. Quite pathetic progress for all of two hours.

You leaned back in your chair with a huff, stretching your neck and shoulders from the cramped and hunched position they've been in for far too long.

Only then did it strike you as you gazed upon the many framed photos of you with your best friend, your other half.

All the memories that were confined behind glass made a smile form on your lips as you were reminded of why you loved him. Why you fell in the first place.

The words of love and passion that you held in your heart for years suddenly bubbled out of you, your hands scribbling down whatever they could.

You laid your heart bare for him, hoping he would cherish it and treat it with care and not return it to you in pieces.

And before you knew it, the page was filled with strokes and curves of the language you'd conjured up so many years ago in your youth. Your fingers were stained with graphite, leaving faint prints on the paper.

With a relieved sigh you added your signature and stuffed the letter along with a translation guide into an envelope. You'd be damned if all of this failed just because Leon didn't have his alphabet anymore.

You'd give the letter to him the next time you saw him, which you realized with horror, would be tomorrow.

You swallowed the bile that rose in your throat, slammed the door on the nerves that were creeping up your spine and sunk into the comforting embrace of your bed, waiting patiently while Sleep took your hand to lead you to your next dream.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The enveloped crinkled under your tight grip as you watched Leon tie the laces on his shoes and throw on his jacket. You'd hung out today, the usual shenanigans.

A movie and some dinner, and, of course, laughing til your belly hurt. You prayed that he didn't notice that you were stiff as a board and sweating buckets.

You wouldn't be surprised if little salt crystals had formed on your brow.

"Alright, I'm off. I'll see you on Tuesday, yeah?" Leon spoke with a smile, closing in to pull you into a hug.

Your eyes widened and you kept your arms and the letter close to your body, resulting in a hug of such awkwardness you would've liked the earth to crack open and swallow you whole.

Leon quirked a brow at you.

"Are you feeling okay? You've been... odd."

A nervous and obnoxious giggled ripped from your throat before you could stop it.

"Who, me? Oh yeah, no, don't worry about me. I'm great. Awesome. Just peachy." You smiled, although it was so unconvincing you cringed at yourself.

He eyed you suspiciously but decided not to question it any further for now. You would tell him when you were ready, you always did.

You cleared your throat.

"I also have this for you. You need to read it at home, though. Anyway, bye!" You said cheerily, shoving the envelope into his hands and pushing him out into the hallway.

"Hey, what are you-"

he couldn't finish the sentence before the door was slammed shut and he was left dumbfounded outside your apartment.

Leon scoffed and turned the letter over in his hands but decided to follow your words and stored the envelope in his pocket.

"Weirdo." He mumbled with a smile and a huff.

You were pressed against the door, watching him through the peephole.

Leon stared directly into your eye and stepped closer.

"I know you're watching." He whispered, his close proximity giving you a hilarious angle of his face.

"Am not!"

Echoed from your side, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"See you." He waved, walking towards the stairs.

When you could no longer see him you let out a huff. Now, all you needed to do was wait and hope for the best.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The jingle of keys echoed through Leon's home as he shut the door behind him.

His keys were returned to their place in a small bowl, and he proceeded to shrug off his shoes and jacket.

With a sigh, he plopped down on his couch, his feet propped up on the nearby coffee table with your letter in his hands.

He carefully opened the envelope, wincing when he heard the paper tear. He unfolded the paper and froze for a moment as he gazed upon the many symbols.

A small chuckle escaped him.

Of course you wouldn't make it easy on him. However, Leon Scott Kennedy was never one to back down from a challenge.

He began to decipher the language, writing down the message on a different piece of paper.

With a triumphant smile, he added the last few words.

"I've bested you once again." He murmured, looking at the finished letter.

But when he began to read it, now actually understanding its meaning, the smile melted off his face.

He was in shock, his eyes wide and lips parted as he read word for word how much you adored him. Leon's throat felt dry and his heart was beating out of his chest at your confession.

He couldn't believe it. You felt the same? You felt the torturing urge to shower him with your love only to hold back in fear of getting burned?

With the letter clutched close to his chest, he stumbled back into his shoes and rushed out the door.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Frantic and hurried knocks on wood snapped you out of your head as you were curled up on your couch, stewing in regret and doubt.

A look through the peephole showed a panting Leon with a flushed face and a kind of desperation in his eyes that you had never seen before.

"Leon? What happened? Are you okay-" You asked, worried, when you opened the door, only to be cut off by him crashing into you and connecting your lips in a fierce kiss.

Any surprise and shock was swallowed by his eager mouth as he wound his arms tightly around your middle and pulled you close to his chest. A fire lit in your heart, a blazing flame that you knew would never be able to be doused.

You let yourself melt into his embrace as you reveled in the feeling of your lips on his. He pulled away, gulping deep breaths while he stared at you with glazed eyes.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but I couldn't get myself to say the words. I don't know what it is, but you keep me tongue tied, I-" You rambled breathlessly.

He shushed you with a soft peck and cupped your face.

"I love you too." He whispered with a loving smile, making an equally as adoring smile break onto your face.

You pulled him into another kiss, giggling against his lips.

All you've ever wanted was yours.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you enjoyed 😚

More of Leon and others -> 💫

《Leon taglist》: @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy @dmitriene @allysunny @entr4p3 @leonslittlekennedy @angelstargel

Lmk if you like to be added/removed 🩷✨️

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁.

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n’ angst! a/n: first part of this multi-chapter fic.

It was a day like any other. You woke to the humming of the maid, the hum-drum of life about the house. You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly got out of bed. You selected your gown for the day after scouring through your wardrobe of various shades of pastel. You bid good morning to the servants as you made your way downstairs and joined your family for breakfast. There your mother urgently reminded you (as if you had forgotten from one day to the next) the importance that you find yourself a suitor, someone of good rank.

But you barely had any mind to pay her; for it was elsewhere, with another. You cut your breakfast short, unable to bear any more talk of suitors and marriage and a life without love. You were buttoning your coat when an angel descended the staircase. Well, it wasn’t truly an angel; only your lady’s maid, but the letter she held in her hand couldn’t have been any more sacred to you. She passed it to you and your eyes met hers, the looks you exchanged almost like those of two best friends trading gossip, or in this case, your own little secret.

You slipped the sealed envelope into your coat pocket before finally stepping out the door and down the front steps. Outside, London was alive and full of the colors of spring. Though you could’ve walked the streets for hours on end, you opted to head straight to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You sifted through your pocket, pulling the envelope out. You couldn’t help noting that it smelled of lavender and cinnamon as you gently broke the seal. There, the words you had been waiting anxiously to read.

Dearest,

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamt of those eyes so deep I was tempted to swim in them. Of that laugh so melodious I was tempted to turn it into a symphony. Of the lips so sweet I was tempted to kiss them. Alas, I know not if I shall ever reveal myself to you. I know you must be dying to figure me out. But you must understand I couldn’t bear to be rejected by you. You drive me mad! When I am awake, you occupy my every thought, and when I sleep you visit me in dreams! I am a tormented man, but oh, how smitten I am with my torment! I clutch it to my chest and carry it with me wherever I go. How could I not? When it was you who gave it to me. Such a state of delirium is the one you have driven me to, simply by existing. Anyway, all this to say that I love you and always will. Write to me, my love. I’ll be waiting.

You pressed the piece of paper to your heart, beating faster than ever. You folded the letter back and let it fall into your pocket once more before starting for the Bridgerton house. It took every fiber in you to go on with this written affair for months on end without uttering a word to your good friend Daphne. But you felt it was something too precious, too fragile to speak of; like a creature as easily spooked as it is beautiful. 

This was what you repeated to yourself in your mind when you arrived at the Bridgertons’, and Daphne swore you had a glow about you only people in love wear. 

“Come now, who is it?” she teased as she delicately sipped her tea. “You must tell me!” 

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “There truly is nothing to tell, Daph. You must believe me.”

“Nonsense!” she poked on. “I wish to know the lucky gentleman who has you so obviously smitten.” It was then that the others entered the parlor. Anthony, with Kate on his arm, and Colin and Benedict following suit. “Fill us in on today’s gossip, sister.” jested Benedict as he lounged on the nearest chaise with his usual happy-go-lucky air. How handsome he looked today, his jet black hair shiny as ever, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“There’s nothing to share, you busybody.” Daphne scolded him lightly. “Mind your own affairs.” At this, Benedict shot you a cheeky look, one you couldn’t help but return. You wondered if your secret admirer was as handsome as he was, as sweet and boyish.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! We are holding a ball this weekend! Isn’t that exciting?” You felt yourself light up at the news. Exciting indeed. Many things can happen at a ball, dances shared and souls intertwined, and perhaps a certain identity revealed.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl

[mrsparrasblog]

Dark Kyle x Reader

he is so precious ahhh

In my opinion, Kyle is the sweetest boyfriend ever and overall the nicest. But there's something about a man who is awful to everyone else besides you.

He didn't stand for any nonsense someone pulled on you. When you cried again about that manager at work who was constantly mean to you, he knew what to do. He brought the equipment from Ghost, and it was way easier than he thought to cut out his tongue. "Watch your tongue next time when you speak with my girl," he said.

The next day, you got promoted to manager since your manager quit abruptly. "You deserved it, love. You're the only smart one anyways. Let's celebrate," he said. He was such a good boyfriend, taking you to all these cute restaurants you've seen on TikTok, and even went to the Barbie film with you, of course wearing something pink. As long as his precious baby is happy, he does everything.

Even if it means confronting the rude guy who called you fat and laughed at you, you were precious, well-curved like an ancient goddess. He didn't tolerate any disrespect against your soft body, which he dreamed of going back to on every deployment.

Shopping with Kyle was always the best. He insisted on paying, and you could wear whatever you wanted: short skirts, basically lingerie as tops, sundresses. "Babe, I can fight," he chuckled.

Oh, if you only knew how he fought for you. If someone had the audacity to even look at you, he fucked you next to him in the bathroom or played with your cute cunny in public. And if someone dared to touch you, let's say the field medic explained to him in one mission how to castrate someone, and he always wanted to try this :)

Overall, you were so happy with your perfect boyfriend, even though you had so much blood to wash out from his shirts. He was just so clumsy on missions :)

[diorgirl444]

seven minutes of hell or dallas winston and his soc! rival are stuck playing seven minutes of heaven together

warnings: bad writing! (girlies i’ve never kissed anyone or flirted so my expression only comes from writing fanfiction so it may not be the most realistic i’m afraid), fem! reader, very self indulgent, i’m also aware that realistically socs and greasers probably wouldn’t be round the curtis brothers house together but like if you wanted realism you wouldn’t be be reading dallas winston fanfiction would you considering he’s canonically dead lol 😭, weak ending, 903 words <3

you’re going to strangle Cherry Valance after this. when she invited you and your other friends out for the evening not once did she think to mention that you were going to that side of town…

not that you have anything wrong with the Curtis brothers, they’re all lovely and very nice-looking. nor do you have a problem with any of their other friends who despite what you might think are all very sweet apart from the insufferable Dallas Winston. and you suppose it makes sense because if she had said that he was going then you would have spent another night reading shitty romance books alone in your bedroom. but still, there is no one you can’t stand more than Dallas Winston. he’s snarky and callous and violent - and beautiful.

yes, you’re not blind even you can recognize that he’s exactly your type but he pushed your buttons like nothing else with the way he patronizingly calls you “princess” and takes every opportunity to drive you absolutely up the wall. you two bicker like night and day whenever you cross paths so you honestly don’t know what Cherry was thinking. and despite that, you assumed it couldn’t get any worse. what could be worse than a party with the boy who makes you red in the face and with a desperate urge to wrap your arms around his neck and - let's not go there?

well, you were wrong anyway it can get worse and it did. because as Daryl’s taking Ponyboy to bed some wise guy (two-bit) suggests that the rest of you play seven minutes of heaven. it is quite possibly the most juvenile thing you’ve ever done and you and every intention of sitting out till surprise, surprise Dallas makes a snarky comment.

“what too good to kiss a greaser is that it princess?”

you flush angrily clearly the fact that you’re at this stupid get-together should prove that you don’t harbour any of that foolish class nonsense. you roll your eyes as you take a seat. fine, you’ll play one stupid round of this silly game you think as you spin the bottle hoping to get it over and done with. with any luck, you’ll get Johnny or something who won’t want to do anything but talk.

but no that would just be so easy so instead the Coca-Cola bottle reaches its final spot right in front of the worst person it could ever be. even he has the decency to look embarrassed with the tips of his ears tinging themselves red and taking a long swig of his beer.

“I can spin again” you shrug awkwardly not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“you can’t cheat the bottle girly” he tells you as he sets his drink down and stands up expecting you to follow after him. you can feel everyone’s gaze on your neck as you silently walk into the small cupboard with him. you hear the click of the lock and you're plunged into total darkness. your back presses up against the wall and his tall frame awkwardly clashes against yours. you can hear him muttering various expletives under his breath. god, you’re not that bad surely. the silence is loud and awkward. you swallow heavily before speaking.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask softly before you think it through. cheeks flushing so you’re grateful for the dark.

he scoffs “You think I hate you…” he says it as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

you feel insecure as you speak again, voice small and weak as you try to explain why. “well like you call me stupid things and you make fun of me and-“

he interrupts you before you continue “I call you princess 'cause you remind me of one. I wind you up because it means you look at me and you get this cute little flush on your cheeks. I don’t hate you and man I hate all that sappy stuff but I do seriously like you doll”

“wow” is all you can manage, taking in what he’s saying.

”you know this is the point where you say that you like me too sweetheart” he teases you but you’re sure theres a small twinge of insecurity in his voice and you haven’t heard a more wonderful thing in your life. he likes you.

you kiss him of course. you pull him down by the collar of his leather jacket and press your lips against his and it’s perfect. his hands wrap around your waist and he tastes like the beer and it’s perfect. you want to stay like that forever. you can hear the beach boys playing on the record play in the other room and idly you wonder why it sounds like it’s getting louder and why the room seems to have gotten brighter.

”seven minutes is up lovebirds” you hear Soda’s teasing voice ring out.

immediately you jump out of Dallas's grip like you’ve been burnt.

all your friends are gathered by the doors and are watching as Two-bit hands a dollar over to Cherry who is saying “told you they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other”

before you can say anything else Dallas snaps at them that the games are over and he shuts the door plunging you into two obscurity again as he pulls you in.

“eager are we?” you say laughing against his lips.

“very” he says faux seriously before kissing you again.

you decide that you’re eager too.

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

[sandwhitches]

𝗰𝘄: language, suggestive jokes, making out (?), references to drinking and smoking

<<< back ✱ menu ✱ next >>>

For the past five, maybe ten, minutes you had been frozen in place, fist clenched around the crackly plastic red cup. You had no reason to be mad about this, you knew that, there’s a difference between going out on a date and dating. And honestly? You weren’t exactly having a blast to begin with. If anything, you saw this as the perfect opportunity to disappear and never go out on a limb for anyone again. 

You never liked parties that much, anyways.

“Is that-...” 

An alarmed voice rasped lowly from behind you, breaking your pensive reflection upon everything you’d ever done wrong in your life to put you where you were. You blinked once, then twice, trying to recognize the face. What was his name again? Doesn’t matter. 

“My date? Yeah.” You supplied dryly, tearing your eyes away from the drunk couple sloppily making out on the lawn. What’s his name? What’s his name? Hadn’t you met him before?

“Sick. He’s making out with my date.” He’d nodded at the other half of the two, clearly as unamused as you were, but at the same time, something in you sensed a hint of what also could have been shameful relief. You went quiet, nodding, and the two of you stared for thirty unbearable seconds before he spoke up once more, “This sucks.”

You smirked humorlessly, finally turning around to face him. It’s seriously bothering you that you don’t know his name, you must have seen him around campus, because it felt as if you already knew him. “Um,” you sighed, “Do you smoke?” 

He faltered a bit, then his expression lightened up with the pairing of a quick shrug, “I can.”

And that’s how it happened as far as you could remember it. His name is Suna Rintaro, his rust-bucket of a car could only play one radio station, he pretended to know how to smoke, and he hated being lied to. You gathered that much from the passenger's seat of his beat up minivan, “It’s my mom’s old car.” He’d explained sheepishly the first time he opened the door for you. 

In less than thirty minutes, you knew something was for certain, you two were meant to find each other. After a blur of a night, you found yourself laying beside him on the carpet of his floor, mind bubbly and perfectly stoned. “You’re like,” you started, too far gone to be unsure of yourself, “my best friend.”

Suna had paused, something changed in his expression, and it would have made you nervous if he hadn't burst into a furious bout of laughter, lithe hands clutching at his sides. Once the laughter had subsided, he nodded, “You mean it?” 

“Yeah.” You replied aimlessly, staring at the water stain on his ceiling. 

“You’re my best friend, too, then.”

How long had you known Suna at this point? The details are a little blurry looking back, you can hardly even remember what time you two had fallen asleep in a haze on the floor. No more than a couple of hours, yet, you both meant it.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Rintaro had huffed lazily, pressing his tongue in the side of his cheek. “What does?” 

“About our dates…” He answered in a daze of thoughts, playing with a piece of his hair between the firm grip of two fingers. “Oh,” you furrowed your brows in embarassment, “I forgot about that.”

Another onslaught of senseless laughter followed. Suna couldn’t bring himself to speak until you were wiping hot tears from your cheeks, stomachs sore with a sourceless giddiness. 

“Don’t you just wish you knew, though?” He shook his head, unable to fight the dopey smile from his face. You peered over at him with your eyes squinted in confusion, “Hmmm?”

“Don’t you wish you knew if someone was an asshole before wasting your time on them? Know it at first sight, I mean. Wouldn’t it save a lot of time?”

Your heart thrummed against your chest in a steady pace, eyelids growing heavy as you put too much thought into it. A blanket of silence enveloped the two of you, leaving room for a swirling of nonsensical ideas that you likely wouldn’t remember after that night, “Yeah that’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

 Even when you woke up in the morning, a t-shirt stuck to your back with a film of thick sweat, a dull ache at the base of your spine, you still meant what you said.

Suna was your best friend, and likewise, you were his. You two were best friends. You two were inseparable. And as you thought about it on your clumsy walk back to your dorm, you also wished there was some magical way to weed out the people who were bad for you.

Maybe Suna was one of those people. Not likely, you think, it takes two to tango, after all.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀:

✱ sorry about the vague notes at the end i just live for unnecessary melodrama

✱ origin story yasss

✱ they were so lame and spiteful i love them

✱ they need to work it out on the remix

✱ we will return to the messiness soon sorry if you opened this expecting more twitter beef

𝗮/𝗻: i’ll post part 3 in a couple of hours i think! thanks 4 all the love and sweet words so far i wish i could give u all the biggest hug there ever was. craving zebra cakes. thanks for lowkey beta reading ree ur my #bro

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @zumicho @nectardaddy @moucheslove @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses @piopioo @lvtilzs @s777athv @localgaytrainwreck @reignsaway @savemebrazilhinata @pop-ghost @naweirdo @sunsribn @staileykout @milesmoralesluvs @chaconadine @aboutkiyoomi @m3gitsune @wizardhore @ineednanami @wakashudou @torkorpse @st4rdusttx @renkitsune @solaqes @sereniteav @eveyams @myromanempiree (blogs in bold couldn’t be tagged, please check your settings!)

taglist status: open! (send an ask, please)

[wishful-thinking64]

One Hell of an Unpopular Opinion #05

Apology Tour completely dismantles the very thought of Stolitz ever being a remotely healthy relationship once they actually become canon on account of AT proving that Stolas doesn't truly love Blitzø for who he is but rather the idealized version of him that Stolas created within his own head and could be replaced by anyone who's willing to take/play Stolas' idealized role of a partner. __________

As much as I hate Full Moon for wasting so much of the audiences time, it did give us that scene where Blitzø was finally sick of Stolas' shit and told him off for it. However, since it's HB the show immediately tries to run damage control in it's next episode, Apology Tour. This is not only another episode that I despise but it's also the one that solidified my hatred for Stolas and his character. In the beginning of Apology Tour, Stolas bitches and moans over how Blitzø is still making their "relationship" about sex when, news flash, it's ALWAYS been about sex because you, Stolas, have kept it that way to the point where your victim feels like he has to sleep with you in order to DESERVE to keep his OWN BUSINESS RUNNING!

And Blitzø isn't wrong! Their "relationship" has always been, as Blitzø worded it back in Season #01 of HB, "a transactional fucking." Why would he see it as anything different when that's how its always been? Now, how does Stolas reply to this?

Honestly, this IS very shocking Stolas as I believe this might be the first time where you and Blitzø have interacted with one another where you're not blatantly sexualizing or romanticizing him on screen! After this he says that Blitzø should respect the fact that he isn't in the mood to sleep with or even speak to him right now. Mind you, whenever Blitzø has told Stolas in the past that he isn't in the mood to sleep with him or be flirted with, Stolas has respected that notion ONE TIME which was after the fiasco at Ozzie's back from Season #01. Otherwise, Stolas hasn't respected his boundaries for shit. Boundaries are important but you two aren't in a real relationship and even if you were respect is still a two way street. If you command respect from someone you choose to CONTINUE to disrespect on a CONSTANT/CONSISTENT basis then why the hell should they respect you? If it wasn't for his book, Blitzø wouldn't have any incentive to cross paths with Stolas at all.

Anyway, literal seconds later, Stolas tells Blitzo how he got invited to an annual anti-Blitzø party and comments on how he's above such silly nonsense only for him to quickly change his tune upon seeing Blitzø's annoyed and enraged reaction to seeing that Verosika is behind this petty pity party.

This starts a back and forth with Stolas demanding that Blitzø leaves. This results in Blitzø, yet again, reinstating on what their relationship truly is and how Stolas fetishizes him which discomforts Stolas because deep down he knows what Blitzø is saying is true.

Now, I won't get into the conversation that takes place after this comment as the critical side of the Helluva Boss fandom on Tumblr has already (rightfully) torn it to shreds. So instead, I'll save us all some time by simply skipping ahead to when Stolas is at the party after that Incubus guy (that rabbid Stolitz shippers hate) asks him if he wants to dance and why I despise that entire scene.

We see that Blitzø is uncomfortable with this and Stolas KNOWS that he's uncomfortable with this random guy asking Stolas to dance with him as Stolas made DIRECT EYE CONTACT with Blitzø! Now, Blitzø does effectively advise that Stolas take up the Incubus' offer with a hand gesture HOWEVER for Stolas to claim that he's always been in love with Blitzø and that he has eyes for him and him alone only to later MAKE OUT WITH A STRANGER just proves and validates Blitzø's feelings that you don't actually love or care about him! And moments before this scene Stolas says this.

THEN GO AND FIND THAT PERSON AS LITERALLY ANYBODY CAN DO THAT! YOU DO NOT LOVE BLITZØ, YOU MERELY LOVE THE CONCEPT OF BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM BECAUSE TO YOU, YOU SEE HIM AS A "CHILDHOOD FRIEND" WHEN IN REALITY YOU KNEW HIM AND HUNG AROUND HIM FOR ONE DAY SINCE YOUR FATHER BOUGHT HIM TO BE YOUR PLAYMATE FOR A SINGLE DAY! ... *Ahem.* In conclusion, there's no amount of future retconning that Viv and Spindlehorse can do to successfully make Stolitz appear as a genuinely healthy ship without trashing the entirety of Apology Tour but even that would create/introduce an entire new set of problems. __________

Man, I've been wanting to get this one off my chest for a while as I haven't seen many people bring up these scenes from AT when discussing how and why Stolas doesn't love Blitzø. I hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts this time around and I'll see you later!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can i request follower!Narinder x follower!reader who's kind heart person? Like they always want to help other even tho they rude to them,and they forgive them eventually but Narinder cannot handle see​ing his spouse being disrespectful.

I want this to be oneshot angst/fluff pls thank you and have a nice day/night🥰

"How goes...your marriage..?"

"Hmph..hello to you too, sister." Narinder rolled his eyes as he sat by the pond with a bowl of stew, hoping for some peace and quiet.

But of course, ever since his siblings arrived into Lamb's cult and learned that he was betrothed to a mortal..he hasn't known such things.

He could tolerate Heket at the very least, since Kallamar was off flirting with gods-know-who, Leshy was on a missionary, and Shamura was reading their usual books.

"It fairs well. I sometimes find it funny.."

"Hm?"

"Shamura surely couldn't have predicted that I would become wedded to a measly mortal..let alone find myself in my vessel's cult. I was to sacrifice them and all of Lamb's followers. Yet when I ended up here..[y/n] was the first to reach out a hand and help me find my place." The black cat huffed. "When others mocked me..they defended my name day and night despite my past transgressions, willing to lookover the fact I once thought of them as nothing but a pawn in my game."

"You've..gotten soft..brother.." Heket lightly teased, earning her a scowl from him. However, something in the distance caught her eyes, and she tensed. "Go."

"What? Go away, you mean?" He blinked in confusion, taken aback by her command as he sneered. "I open my heart up to you, and you have the nerve to-?!"

"[Y/n]." She simply pointed, and he followed her gaze to the drinkhouse where you were trying to help a drunken follower stand on their own two feet.

While you could normally handle that sort of thing, something about it didn't sit right with Narinder. They were acting rather belligerent, babbling nonsense and causing a barrel to topple over, all while refusing to surrender their empty glass.

Only then he remember you were the bartender for today and were trying to close up shop.

He got up, deciding to let Heket finish his stew, and began walking over. His footsteps were silent as to not draw attention to himself.

He wanted to observe how you'd handle the situation.

"Please, go rest." You gently tried to urge the inebriated follower. "You've had enough."

"Don't touch meeeeeee...I ain't-" A hiccup interrupted them as their face became redder, words so slurred you could hardly understand them. "I ain't gonna..go anywherrre.."

"I'm afraid you must, I'm sorry-"

"Nooooo...I don't wanna be handled by some...idiot who slept with the One Who Waits!"

You froze. "Pardon?"

"Whatdya see in that guy anyway? He haaaates us all..he was..gonna kill us, right? And Lamby, too?" They grumbled, now sounding completely serious and irate. "Why don't you wanna be with Lamby? Or me? Or someone who isn't a monster...do ya hate us, too?"

"No, I don't hate anyone." You tried to reassure them. "But it's rude to speak of Narinder that way."

"But his stupid siblings..they...they hurt us so much because of him!" Tears began filling their eyes, their expression growing angrier. "Why did they have to come? What they did to us...was 'cuz of HIM! EVERYTHING is his fault!!!"

"I hear your pain, my friend. I really do. But Lamb believed-"

"WHAT ABOUT WHAT I BELIEVE?!" They raised their empty glass in a threatening manner, and you flinched, taking your hands off their robe in preparation for an attack.

But before anything could happen-

A black paw grabbed their wrist, claws digging into their flesh. Not enough to draw blood, but just enough to make it hurt and divert their attention to a certain angry feline.

"How irritating.." A trio of red eyes pierced through Narinder's veil as he scowled down at the follower. "I don't know whether you're more annoying now or when you're sober. You may scorn Lamb to your heart's content..but to threaten my spouse is a line you'll regret ever crossing. Now go lie down before I make you."

With a nod and a quiet whimper, they shakily set the glass down on the counter. And the moment he let their wrist go, they took off stumbling all the way to their shelter.

You frowned a little. "Darling, it's my job to lead them to-"

"They'll find their own way. Whatever they break can be fixed in no time." Narinder dismissed as he went to clean off the glass, while you plugged up the beer kegs for the night.

But as he rubbed and twisted the rag, he began thinking about what might've happened had he not intervened when he did..and it only made him angrier.

What if the glass was still full and they decided to spill it?

What if they threw it at your head?

What if they left tiny shards in your flesh and caused blood to pour down your face?

What if-?

*crack*

A sudden sharp pain in his paw pad made him wince slightly, realizing that the cup broke apart, a piece of glass now embedded in his own flesh.

Great.

"Oh no, let me take care of that for you, love."

He perked up at your voice, seeing you pull out a pair of tweezers and a roll of bandages from your robe pocket. "I can do it myself, you know."

"And risk getting more blood on the counter?" You pointed out the red splatters on the oak. "Heavens no."

Narinder chuffed, eventually turning his paw over and allowing you to tend to his injury. "Why do you allow them to speak to you that way? And being drunk is no excuse. They knew damn well what they were saying. They've disproved of our relationship from the start."

"So have plenty of others, including your own siblings, Nari. They'll come around eventually. I have all the faith in them."

"[Y/n]..they almost smashed a glass over your head. And I stopped them from doing so." He growled, frustrated at your lack of outrage. "You are content in letting such disrespect continue without punishment? Without consulting Lamb? If we cannot do anything about it, surely they can."

"I will let it go this one time. But only because I believe they won't do it again. I think they learned their lesson thanks to you." You simply reassured him, before you finished wrapping the gauze around his paw.

With a smile, you brought it up to your lips and kissed it, eyes flickering up to him. "You needn't worry, my darling. I am okay."

"...I'm not worrying about anything." Narinder scoffed, having difficulty hiding the blush beneath his fur. "I simply refuse to tolerate imbeciles who make obscene assumptions about us, thinking there'd be no repercussions."

"Of course, but in any case..thank you for coming to my defense."

"Hm.."

"Now come." You gently tugged him away from the drinkhouse, looping your arm around his. "I believe we have some farming plots to attend to. I promised Lamb I'd work on them in Leshy's steed, but what say...you pick out the seeds you wish to plant this time?"

Narinder's ears perked. "Hah. I thought you were about to tell me to gather fertilizer." He chuckled quietly. "You are too good to me sometimes."

"Well, I figured you could use a break. Come, come!"

And so he followed you to the farming area. While he could sense Heket still staring at him, knowing her grin was smug as ever, he didn't care about what she was thinking--or what anybody in the cult was thinking for that matter.

All that he cared about right now was vegetation would prosper best on this warm spring day.