#i have been described as a genius but unfortunately the

[xoxochb]

— blank space ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

★ - “'cause we're young and we're reckless we'll take this way too far It'll leave you breathless, or with a nasty scar”

warnings: enemies not really to lovers more like enemies with benefits, forced marriage, regency era, implied past trysts, smut/hate sex at the end, swearing per usual, not proof read sorry pairing: husband! jason grace x wife! reader a/n: I’ve been reading pride and prejudice and it got me in a regency enemies to lovers mood so here we are 🤗

preposterous. that was the one word of choice to describe your marriage perfectly. it was utterly unfair— you had been minding your business and of course the only son of jupiter had to waltz in and bother you, knocking you “by accident” to the floor. when both your and his parents walked in and saw you two together they immediately declared the only way to stop your banters was to marry you two off

and they hadn’t lied, they hadn’t joked. two months later on the steps of olympus you and jason grace had been wedded under holy matrimony. it wasn’t a pleasant wedding either— though you would surely say that night you were entirely pleasured more than you would like to admit

today, you sit in your palace’s library, atop your cozy couch before a crackling fire. it was a serene moment, you’d finally found peace from your overbearing husband, unfortunately, he finds you soon after these thoughts enter your mind and your silence is ruined. jason watches you attentively as you yell at him for this, but his attention is less on your words but on your appearance. the sun has casted in incandescent glow upon your features, perfectly illuminating them, and your eyes— gods your eyes, so filled with frustration but he knew there was more behind them than that. and you’re hair, cascading like dominoes over your shoulders, and he hates to admit it but he can’t help but trail his eyes over your exposed cleavage

“are you even listening to me?” you ask. jason snaps out of his thoughts quickly at the tone of your voice

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“oh my gods” you slowly run your hands over your face to keep your composure “this is your problem, you never listen to me!”

jason chuckles lightly. “oh, I am listening. I just find it difficult to focus when your lips look so tempting”

you groan. “you are so… arrogant!”

“arrogant? or incredibly charming?” he suggests “but it’s not my fault you’re looking stunning today”

“oh— you are such an…” you find yourself at a loss for words, too angry to continue speaking

“such a what?”

“an ass!” you snap, closing your book atop your lap and standing up to leave. but to your dismay, jason traps you between the nearby wall and himself, placing his hands on your hips

“leave me alone, genius”

“and what do you…” he toys around with the fabric of your dress “plan to do to stop me”

“I will shove your head on a stick”

“ah— careful, my dear. If you continue speaking such vulgar ideas I’ll have to find a better use of that mouth of yours”

“you would not. I will not allow it” you attempt to escape his embrace but his grasp only grows tighter

“my dear wife, where do you think you’re going? I hope you’re not thinking of going to our shared bedroom… I find if we end up there you may never leave my touch”

you squint your eyes up at him. there was no word in the english dictionary you could find to describe your full frustration. instead, you part your dress— and feel around for your dagger strapped underneath your garter. you fail to realize a pair of electric blue eyes trailing over your now exposed skin. you hold the dagger up to jason’s chin in hopes he’ll take a hint to at last leave you alone

“do not make me use it. it would be a shame to have to destroy my beloved with such awful crimson liquid”

“put it down, darling” he takes the dagger from your hands, throwing it onto the floor somewhere within the room. suddenly, the moment is seeming too intimate for enemies. “that’s better. now, perhaps you’ll behave yourself after this little lesson we’ve had”

your glare only grows from where. “I most certainly will not”

“I suppose then, my sweet wife, I’ll have to teach you another lesson” jason trails a finger along your jaw, eliciting a shiver to run down your back. and his lips, oh gods, they’re almost attached with yours, if only he would move a centimeter

“how do you plan to do that?”

“I have a few ideas in mind,” you feel his hot breath against your skin, he moves to kiss your neck, and trails down to place another open-mouthed kiss over your pulse point “but I suppose they’re all to risqué to be said out loud”

“try me” you command, despite an utter flustered state. his hand had now traveled down to the exposed skin of your thigh, tracing circles upon it, and occasionally toying with the edge of your dress

“do you think you can handle them?”

“I do. please, share your thoughts, dear husband” you say sarcastically. his lips trail down to place fluttery pecks over the valley between your breasts

“firstly, I would take you to our bedroom and lock the door. then, I would take my sweet time with you. I would touch you until you desperately crave more of me”

“you think to highly in the clouds”

“do I?” his fingers begin to untie the strings of your dress, slowly sliding it down your shoulders at almost an antagonizing rate “or do I simply speak of what you wish for me to do to you?”

you respond with only silence. he guides you back to the couch you previously sit atop, sliding the remainders of your dress of beneath him

“you look beautiful, darling”

“you… are fucking terrible” you breathe out. but in response, jason only laughs and begins trailing his lips down your skin as his hands fumble with the clip of your bra so he can reach more of your skin. and finally, he gets it undone. you make no move to prevent him from sliding it down along your arms. you wish, however, that you could stop him— but you’re to eager to have him take you so you allow him to do whatever he pleases with the new (ish) found skin

you allow him to place his lips further down your body, that is until they now reach the edge of your underwear. he throws a glance up to your flushed face with a smirk before sliding those down your legs before, now, kissing your inner thighs simply teasing you. he knows for a fact that this will get a rise from you soon enough, perhaps make you regret pulling a dagger on him. but you keep your mouth shut— you know him all too well. in response he treats you the same, and without warning he begins swirling his tongue upon your clit, instantly eliciting a moan from your mouth. and he surely was not lying, he took his time savoring your sweetness

but after moments he picks up the pace, realizing this was not enough to put you in your place, and as you squirm, jason takes a tight grip of your thighs to keep you in place as his tongue continues to work you. you attempt to mutter coherent pleads for him to slow his pace but he doesn’t listen to a single mumbled word, in fact, his pace increases after each of your requests. your legs tremble as you attempt with everything in you to stop him but it appears nothing seems to work for only a moment until he backs away for a moment and murmurs a demand for you to hold on for a moment. you watch as he begins undressing himself now. panting, you wait for him to do something, anything. but he lifts himself to be face-to-face with you with such a sadistic facial expression, how you wish you were able to form a full adult sentence, you would’ve had your dagger shoved inside of him by now

you whisper, “I hate you” and though your statement holds false information, it holds just the same truth as ever

[friendofthecrows]

Wish I had more of that stereotypical "refined genius psychopath mystery villain" vibes and less "dysfunctional no sleep cycle can't tell when/if they have emotions traumatized mess doesn't feel like a human paranoid future true crime psychopath" vibes. So that was word salad. Moving on.

[angeltannis]

It’s been years but it still frustrates me how Borderlands 3 trips over itself to Tell Not Show how Typhon is such a GOOD guy with a HEART OF GOLD and how HIS abuse of his kids was different from Jack and Angel, because THESE kids were freaks and deserved it

[cuntdevil]

★ SORRY WON'T HEAL EVERYTHING !

you've been lying to megumi, saying that you need his help in organic chemistry, when in actuality, you just want to be in close proximity.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, megumi fushiguro, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 6472 words !

╰┈➤ aged up!megumi fushiguro, tutor!megumi fushiguro & rich college student!reader, crush to enemies to lovers, breaking & entering (not really but megumi & reader gets into a little tussle-ish), bickering, reader is described to have a bush, dom!reader, sub!megumi, dry humping, edging, nipple play, whining & begging, edging, multiple (2) orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, cowgirl position, etc.

( author's note. ) no special note this time other than to comment & reblog with your thoughts uwu !!

The world is cruel to pretty rich girls like you. Creating a stigma that you all are just ditzy and dumb, leeching off the money that your daddy worked damn hard for and will tarnish their legacy. And it's unfortunate that people think that you'll end up the same way. Majoring in Biochemistry, people don't know how you've made it so far. Convinced that you've been sleeping your way around with the university professors to stay on top of things, or coercing the board with bribe money to continue funding the legacy admissions that continue to come. Or, you’ve been paying off your tutors to do the work for you. Either way, people have painted a fairly dark picture of you that couldn't be more wrong. 

You wouldn't say you're a genius or some sort of prodigy, but you understand the material. When you don't, you're studying your ass off and going the extra mile to make sure you do. You have access to the best learning tools there is, enrolling in subscriptions to websites to receive the guides and tips you need. You put in the work, and people reduce you to nothing just because they have their stigmas and biases on rich people. It's a shame really, but if they want to make a presumed opinion about you before knowing you, then you'll play right into their hands. 

You play the cute little bimbo that takes notes fancily, titling your notes with calligraphy pens and markers. Color-coordinates everything you do because it's pretty, and not because it'll help you retain the information better when you look over and study. You'll put down sticky notes all over your textbooks, highlighting important keywords that pop up just because the professor said so, and not because it coincides with something else and you were paying attention to it. And after the lecture, when everyone's packing up their belongings, you'll linger behind because you have so much stuff to put away. Not because you want to talk to Megumi Fushiguro, one of the top students in the class. 

When people see you sauntering over the messy-haired boy who always looks bored of everyone, they think of the typical. You're going to ask him for help when in actuality, you'll pay him just enough to get him to do your work for you. You're lucky enough that the professors know that your work is legitimate as you've spoken to them outside of class for them to collect that much from you. So, they don't bat an eye when you're calling for the boy's name as he's ready to leave. “Fushiguro, can you wait a minute?”

You catch him off guard the moment he turns around and realizes that it's you. His eyes widen before he controls his composure, returning to his slouched pose and waiting for you to catch up. “Yeah?”

You're polite, holding your hand out as you introduce yourself. “Hey, I'm (Y/N).”

He takes it, feeling the smoothness of the palm of your hand. You smile widely, eyes beaming brightly as the corner of your lips only expand. “Hi. I would introduce myself, but it seems like you already knew my name, so…”

“Oh, well, yeah,” you shrug sheepishly. “I've heard the professor call it out a few times or so. Anyway—” It feels harder than you thought it would, approaching him to ask for help. Truth be told, you're lying under the jurisdiction that you need assistance in the class. You need far from it, but you've seen him from time to time, developing a small crush on him and apprehensive on how you should approach him. You thought this would be the best and most believable way. “—I wanted help on the next assignment. You seem to know the material really well, too. I'll pay you! Just tell me your rate! It won't be a problem.”

It won't be a problem. Tch. Megumi can't help but wonder if he's your next victim. That he'll be the next fool struggling to finish his own assignments on top of yours. While the extra money does sound good, he has more dignity than that and so should you. “I'm sorry, but I'm busy.”

He doesn't give you the opportunity to say anything else before he's heading through the double doors of the lecture room. 

The next time you run into Megumi, it's at the courtyard and you have more confidence than you did the last time. Maybe you shouldn't though because he's hanging out with his friends. One a boy with pink hair that has adorable brown eyes that resemble a puppy and the next a girl with auburn brown hair that stops at her shoulders. The two seem to be arguing over something while Megumi's face is on his phone. 

“Fushiguro, hey!” He recognizes your voice now, and he lets out a dreadful sigh before he turns around. Yuuji and Nobara have thankfully stopped their pointless bickering because of you, so he should be an ounce but grateful. When he spins around in his seat, you're wearing a cute little get up. A denim jeans skirt that falls mid thigh and a silk baby pink top with bows on the shoulder. You adorn goddess braids that are pulled up in a half-up, half-down do— a bow holding the ponytail together as well. You look cute. 

“Hey,” his dryness should let you know perfectly clearly that he doesn't bother, but you're a stubborn girl. You had talked yourself over the entire ordeal for the past two days since and didn't let it deter you. You just instilled the hopefulness that he truly was busy and needed to get to his next class. Now, he was available and you could properly talk to him. 

“We didn't really get to talk properly last time,” you beam. “I know you said you're busy, so I want to say that I don't have a problem doing it whenever you're available. I can give you my number and we—”

“Can we talk in private, please?” Megumi asks, seeing that you were serious in regards to a tutoring session. You nod, humming out an ‘mhm’ as Megumi gets up and leads you to somewhere secluded and where his friends can't hear nor watch. When he's a safe distance away, he turns to you as you still look so expectant and hopeful. Part of him is starting to think you genuinely need help, but his bias starts speaking against him. 

“Look,” Megumi starts. “I don't have enough time in my day to do the workload for both me and you. I'm being nice when I say find someone else to do your work for you and leave me alone.”

Your face falls, to what Megumi believes to be your hopes of getting the easy way out of the next Organic Chemistry assignment being crushed. However, it's more-so annoyance than anything else as you become heated in it. Megumi's about to leave when your voice rings in his ears. “Did you really think I took time out of my day twice to ask you to help me cheat?”

“What?” He asks, taken aback.

“You heard me,” you snap. “Do you really think that if I wanted someone to do my homework, that I wouldn't just find the next guy smart enough to do it for me? For a smart guy, you're really clueless.”

“T-then, what?” Megumi clears his voice. “Did you really need help? I'm sorry if you did—”

“Honestly, I already had the work done,” you prop a hand on your hip, frowning. “And no, I didn't need to pay someone to do it for me. And I didn't use the internet.

“You know what I really hate about people,” you continue to drone on. “I hate that they would just jump to conclusions rather than get to know someone to know that, hey! They're actually smart. But no, you guys would rather go with the presumption that all rich people cheat their way out through life. Yeah, I have a card in my father's name to buy what I need and want, but he's too prideful to pass his name down to a girl that can't tell the difference between rDNA and DNA, so yeah, it's not as easy for me as it looks!

“To think I had an inkling of a crush on you that I was desperate enough to ask you to tutor me under the hoax of needing help, when you're just a stuck up asshole like the rest of them. Ugh, this was such a waste of my time!”

This time, you're the one to leave Megumi speechless, stomping off to your next class. 

Megumi didn't realize how many classes you had together, but you did. Whenever you made eye contact with him, you turned immediately back around. Whenever he was close to approaching you ready to apologize, you were out the door in a flash. He must've really worked you up to the point that you quit your facade, raising your hand more in class to answer questions. You even started correcting him during the lectures, having students stunned when the professor had confirmed that you were, in fact, correct. It had his ears red when Inumaki nudged him and snickered at how you one-upped him.

However, in Organic Chemistry, you're staggering. Try to stuff all of your things inside your bag because honestly, you do like making your notes pretty— for the pretty colors and for better retaining the information. You're close to sipping your bag shut when something falls out, your pencil pouch again. Someone beats you to it, picking it up for you right as you're trying to maneuver things around. 

“Thank you,” you begin to ramble. “I packed so much stuff today, and I honestly really didn't need to because the professor didn't even end up asking for them. Like—”

When you look to see who it is, you're quick to shut your mouth and give him the cold shoulder once again. Your time is dry, just as he was with you once upon a time. “Thank you.”

“Wait,” Megumi sighs, grabbing your wrist when you're ready to head on out. “Please, just listen to me.”

“Oh?” You cross your arms. “Like how you were so willing to listen to me.”

“I'm sorry—”

“Apology forgiven. Bye,” you cut him short, trying to leave his tight grasp around your wrist, but he won't budge. 

“You were right,” he admits. “I was being an asshole, and jumped right at the gun, thinking what everyone else was thinking. They just said you were some spoiled rich kid and I believed them right away. My apology is crappy and you don't have to forgive me, but if you really want that tutoring session, it'll be free of charge. I'm available on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursday afternoons.”

He reaches for a crumbled paper in his pocket, which you hesitate to take. When it's in your grasp, he finally lets go. “Call me or text me when you're available.”

You pout, not liking how your heart is skipping a beat when you look up at him. Your wall is quickly breaking as you stumble on your hips. You can only get yourself to mumble, “I’m busy,” before you're grabbing your bag. Completely forgetting about your pencil pouch. 

—

You don't realize you've been missing your pencil pouch for four days straight. In your defense, Organic Chemistry is your last class of the week, so you have a huge chunk of time in between it. You had emailed your professor about it, but she had said that didn't it see it when you left. You checked the campus’s lost and found and even reached out to the custodial staff to see if they had found it when they were cleaning, but to no avail. It was just a pouch that you could easily replace at the snap of a finger, but you hated not trying to look for something before spending money. Trying to retrace your steps, you're wondering if you were with anyone the last time you had it— fuck. 

You curse to yourself incessantly as you realize that maybe he picked it up when you had forgotten it. If so, why hasn't he returned it to you? Is this some sick tactic of his for you to reach out to him? He did give you his number, after all. Groaning, you feel like you'd rather buy a new pencil case at this point in time. 

You find yourself an easily forgiving person. Knowing that if you messaged him, you'd forget what he did to make you upset in the first place and easily break your resolve. For once in your life, you wanted to stay angry for a decent amount of time before reaching out again. You are proud of yourself, though, because he apologized to you first. However, you didn't want to falter so easily and forgive him just yet. No, he could wait a little longer until you're ready to message him. 

Two hours pass until you have the phone in your hands, fishing for the slip of paper that you had to fish from your dirty laundry hamper after shoving it in your pocket that day. You luckily found it, not thinking twice when you dialed his number in your phone and saved it under Fushiguro. 

to fushiguro: hey. it's y/n. do you have my pencil pouch by any chance? 

You didn't want to further elaborate on it, hoping that he knew what you were talking about the moment you hit send. When Megumi received the message of an unknown number, seeing a sliver of it that revealed your name, he sat up on his dorm bed as he clicked open. Reading the message in its entirety, he was close to saying yes and that he would return it to you next class, but he remembered what he told himself. He wanted you to talk to him, to schedule a tutoring session. And he'll make you do it the best way he knows how. 

to you: sorry, but we're able to compute that. please message with your preferred tutoring date, time and preferred meeting spot. 

It was stupid, but he was hoping it would work. He figured that he could annoy you to the point where you would give in and set up one, or you'd block him and he'd finally take the hint that you don't want to talk to him ever again. But, he really wanted to address the fact that you went through all of this because you liked him. It warmed his heart. 

You frowned at the message, rolling your eyes as you quickly grew agitated. Was he really going to do this right now?

to fushiguro: are you kidding me rn?

to fushiguro: fushiguro, if you don't answer me seriously, i'm going to block you!

from fushiguro: im calling your bluff. schedule an appointment if you want your pencil pouch back.

to fushiguro: no. give it back to me at org chem. 

from fushiguro: no. 

to fushiguro: fuck you.

to fushiguro: im being so serious. fuck you. 

Megumi curses to himself, never registering that he could piss you off this bad. However, he was adamant on meeting you in private. You didn't realize that in your pouch, you had labeled your dorm room number in case it got lost. When he messaged you again, you blocked him. 

—

There's a knock on your room door as you're underneath the covers of your bed, the lights off as you're doom scrolling. You pause, sure that your roommate had brought her key along with her. Unless she had lost it— that would be the third time this year. Grumbling, you jump from out of the bed, “Maki, if you lost your key again, I swear to God! I'm not going to open the door for you anymore—”

“Please!” Megumi begs. “Don't shut the door on me!”

“I'm going to file a harassment report on you,” you sneer, trying to shut the door but he's wedged his foot between the frame to block you from doing so.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry,” Megumi whines out. “Please, just listen.”

“I did and I said you were forgiven,” you groan, trying to kick his foot from between, but he's being such an ass— a strong one at that. 

“But you don't mean it,” Megumi huffs. “And, I have your pencil pouch, right here. I can give it to you if you just let me in.”

“Not in a fat chance,” you pant as Megumi's come to wedge his body inside. “You're starting to become really weird, y’know. It's not that deep. It's just a pencil case.”

“Says the girl—” Megumi exhales, finally halfway inside. “—that texted me for it.”

He nearly knocks you down with the brute force he has to use to get inside. You stumble back as you nearly lose your footing. You catch yourself against the dresser, pushing yourself back on your feet as Megumi stands inside. You're breathing heavily as you both collect yourself. You've given up, seeing the stakes that he was willing to take for you to talk to him. You surrender, your hands falling to the side as he stands before you in silence. “You're inside my room now. Say what you have to say.”

Now that he was here, Megumi didn't know what to say. He takes a look around, noticing your choice of decoration. Your side of the room is simple, a pink tapestry hung with floral designs with a cork board hanging over your bed— important dates, photos and sticky notes attached to it. On your desk, you have your notebooks and textbooks aligned where tabs are neatly placed inside it. He shuffles toward them and you don't say a word, watching as he flips through them. You've taken elaborate notes, have study guides and print outs annotated. They're better than his own.

“Wow,” he chuckles to himself. “I really underestimated you.”

“Is this what you came to do?” You ask him, sitting on your bed as you observe the boy. “Look through my things and violate my privacy?”

“You can report me after this,” Megumi says. “I deserve it.”

“You sure as hell do,” you mumble. “Can't believe I had a crush on a creep.”

There's that word again. Crush. Megumi looks over at you, his face heating up at the thought. “Do you really— have a crush on me?”

“I did,” you correct him, though you're lying to yourself. “Before I found out you’re an asshole and a creep.”

“Why?” The question catches you off guard, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him in your sitting position. 

“Why, what?” You ask for elaboration. “Why did I have a crush on you?”

Megumi nods, cheeks tinted in a deep shade of red that it's nearly concerning. “What made you attracted to me?”

“I don't know,” you shrug, placing your hands in your lap as you begin to fiddle with them. “You're cute. I mean, you have messy jet black hair that I’d love to play in, and these serious blue eyes that I'd want to make lighter. But, when you frown, I also find it cute.”

Megumi grows even more flustered, finding himself looking away. “You're also cute when you blush.”

Megumi finds the courage to sit on the edge of the bed, close to you. “You can… You can play with my hair now— if you want.”

And you hate it. You hate it how cute he looks right now, eyes pleading with yours and asking you to touch him. And how your body wants to give in and lean in. And they do. They have a mind of their own as Megumi's body leans against yours, giving you better access to his head. It's comforting, running your hands into his locks. 

He can feel your heartbeat against him, how it's grown calmer by the second as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. “You're also very smart,” you continued. “I liked that about you, but then…”

“I'm sorry,” Megumi whispers. There's a big pause.

“Yeah,” you hum. “You keep saying that.”

Megumi pulls away from you, getting on all fours as he crawls. You scooch further, wondering what he's doing until your back hits the headboard having you pinned down. His eyes seem sincere this time when he says it. “I mean it, (Y/N). I really am sorry.”

“I know,” you breathe, his face inching closer to yours that you can feel the heat of him. Your heart's starting to pound again as all rationality flies out the window, telling you to push him off and grow a backbone. However, you know that this has gone long enough and that you truly did forgive him the moment he apologized the first time. You were just being petty. 

“Please forgive me.”

“I do, Fushiguro.”

“Call me Megumi.” There was a small measure of uncertainty. If he should really do this, what he's about to do. His fingers linger on your face, your beautiful skin as he looks down on your plump lips. You lick the bottom lip, and in his mind it's so tantalizingly slow that you must be purposely teasing him. His thumb reaches for it, gliding against the skin before his eyes are meeting yours again. It's faint, your nod, but he notices it. It gives him the courage to make your lips touch, his pink ones against yours. 

It's chaste and dry at first, both of you testing and tasting the waters before you're both pulling away. There's a cloud full of need inside the two of you, a thin layer of arousal sprouting out of you as his chest presses against yours. Enveloped in each other's heat as Megumi comes to push a few strands of hair out of your face. Your hand comes next to caress him, mustering the confidence for both of you to really dive in the waters. 

He tasted of spearmint and strawberries. You, the sweet artificial flavor of cherries. It's addictive as Megumi finds himself moaning into your lips first. You find yourself giggling against him when he pulls away, wanting to apologize yet again. However, you seize the opportunity to flip him over, catching him off guard as his eyes widen and you pin down his arms. This change of position, he has no problem with it. Eyes glossing, his hands instinctively find your hips, pulling them into him as you feel his growing erection. 

With a breathy sigh, underneath your flimsy shorts, you can feel him. Feel his cock hardening underneath you as you press your hips down on him, putting all your weight on the poor boy's groin. You rock your hips gently just to tease him, feeling your own cunt clenches at how quickly Megumi grew aroused. But who are you kidding? So did you. 

He’s hard inside his pants, loose fitted sweats where the material is thin. You’re wearing shorts that barely cover your ass, feeling how he continues to harden underneath you. Your languid movements, how your hips sensually as you rock back and forth. The hem of your tank top is riding up, revealing an inch of skin as a cute happy trail becomes visible. Megumi finds his hands roaming to your hips, pulling you to ground yourself against him before you swat away his arms and lean down to his level. Pretty plump lips that are close to his as he’s got no other choice but to look at you so close up. They curve into a smile, a small giggle leaving you before you’re licking at them and making them shine. “No touching.”

Megumi lets out a whimper in protest, daring to return his fingers to grip at your waist, but you grab ahold of them before they make contact. Your gaze is sharper, glaring at the boy as he can only mewl out, “Why not?”

“Why not?” Your manicured nails are sharp, digging into his pale skin that it’ll surely bruise. However, he can only feel himself twitch into the pain as you move against him, tutting out a sound of disapproval and looking down at him as though he’s stupid. “After you’ve been so mean to me, you think you deserve to touch me?”

“S-sorry,” he apologizes, but this time it doesn’t meet his eyes. Only leaving his lips in a desperation for your touch. Sorry, sorry, sorry. You come to roll your eyes as it becomes more meaningless everytime he says it. With both of his hands in your tight hold, you bring them to pin them over his head and pull Megumi in for a kiss. He moans into your lips, his pelvis jutting upwards in a need for more. To feel the friction and heat of your pussy against him. You let out a breath, a high-pitched squeak that leaves you as your tongue dives into his mouth. 

His body has fallen so eager to you, begging for any close proximity that you can give him. The warmth of your body being too much that already he feels himself near, how he can imagine his length flushed in a red so needy that he’s ready to combust. “I—please…”

His face heats up in a bright shade of crimson that it’s nearly concerning. He finds himself embarrassed about how worked up he got over just you kissing him and the buck of your hips. You find it cute. You can feel his cock twitch underneath you fortunately, and you stop before he can spill himself inside his pants. The moment your weight isn’t pressed down into him, he whines in protest as his blue eyes look for yours in pleading. You shake your head, bottom lips poking out in a pout. “Nuh uh,” you say. “Can't have you wasting yourself in your pants.” Even if it’ll be the hottest thing you’ll ever see. 

Still, there’s a wet patch in his pants, darkening the material as you slot yourself in between his legs. His shirt has ridden up considerably, revealing most of his stomach and the short pebbles of hair leading down to his length. Your touch is cold. Megumi shivers underneath it as you tuck your fingers underneath his pants and underwear, tugging it down slowly in exaggeration to reveal his cock to you. Shaft and balls a dusty pink with the head of him bright with need. Where he’s not too gifted in girth, he’s been blessed with a slightly over average cock that’ll surely be enough to reach your g-spot. Pre leaks from his tip, jolting ever so slightly at the cold air engulfing the room. 

You hum in delight, finding him so pretty like this. His shirt rose and his pants pooling at the ankles before you can remove them completely. He pants heavily, a visceral desire reverberating off of his chest as you leave him wanting for more. To have you over him like this, his pupils dilate as he watches you crawl over him and reach to pull off his shirt. When he’s completely bare underneath you, he lays down pliantly as he waits for your next move. You can do anything to him, he wouldn’t care, he just needed you. 

With his length hitting his lower stomach, you’ve positioned yourself to how you previously were and returned to your teasing movements, rocking against his length. It’s overwhelming, but in a way that doesn’t have him begging to leave. He keeps his arms over his head, his short stubby nails doing nothing as his fingers dig in his flesh. Again, your chest is pressed against his as you kiss him, tasting you and loving what he receives.

How did these events transpire? If someone were to ask you, your mind would go blank, only happy with the outcome of it all. You hold Megumi’s face in your hands, caressing his cheeks as your tongue dances against his. Filled with so much fervor as your movements sound the gentle creaks of the bed, you have to restrain yourself from what you truly want. How you truly want him to fill you up and give you what you’ve been craving this entire time. But, he looks so handsome like this— watching how his face heats up with either lust or embarrassment, or how he moans and whines against you. To feel how you’ve had him on the brink of an orgasm just from kissing alone, it’s enough to build up your ego, never having a man like this. It’s usually the opposite. 

When you detact your lips from his, a string of saliva is attached, becoming thinner and thinner until it snaps. Megumi’s blue eyes have darkened significantly, pink lips opened up slightly as he takes you in. Taking in your absolute beauty as you’re still clothed. Under your tank top is nothing, forgoing a bra and your nipples are poking through. They rub against the fabric in heavy need, and he can only imagine how they’d feel in his mouth.

“Can you take off your top?” His voice is low, coming out breathy as his mouth waters. He’s afraid that you’ll say no, so he makes eye contact with you, eyes widened in a begging motion as he adds, “Please.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t make your heart flutter and before you can thoroughly think it through, your arms cross as you pull up your shirt. Your breasts spill out of the tight fitted top, dropping out like a breath of relief. Dark areolas that are puckered as your nipples stand out prominently. Megumi’s body has a mind of its own, sitting up on the bed before you can completely register as he takes you ahold of him and drags you down to lay on top of him. His mouth opens to suck you, and you can feel the warmth of his lips as he lets out a wanton moan.

It’s dragged out as he can taste your skin, feel how your back arches into him as you can only succumb to the pleasure. Your hips buck against him, pressing against his cock as he continues to leak precum. The translucent mess sticking to your bottoms as he holds your waist tightly against him as he ruts himself into you. The salt of your skin is quickly washed away as he sucks and nips at the pebbles, seemingly wanting for something to come out of you.

His eyes are shut as his grip on you is tight and forcing your hips to ground against him as you call out his name. “M-Megumi…”

Such a quick turn of events as your mouth hangs open as he moves you how he wants, tightly ground him as he rocks his hips into you. He alternates between your breasts, giving them equal opportunities of love as you can feel your slick sticking to your underwear. Your juices pool at the amount of friction against you. You can feel Megumi’s erection against your covered cunt, and the wetness of each other against it. It feels so dirty and so nasty, but simultaneously all too good to pull away from each other. 

“You feel so good,” Megumi breathes against you, feeling that familiar knot within his stomach as his cock twitches. And he’s greedy, not wanting to stop in fear that you’ll edge him again. “P–please… Make me feel even better.”

“I will…” you draw out, voice getting higher. “I will. Just— Don’t stop right now!”

Megumi shakes his head in promise, his hold on you getting impossibly tighter. “I won’t. Trust me.”

There’s a huge wet patch on your shorts now, the cotton in your panties being too weak to hold all of your juices in as Megumi beckons that much from you. You continue to grow aroused the more he moans against you, sucking on your breasts and kneading them with heavy devotion. However, those same moans become more choked and staggered as you feel his length against you, a wetness foreign to yours leaking from him. Cumming all over your shorts as his lips finally leave your breasts to get ahold of himself. Eyes shut as his eyebrows knit together before he’s returning back to you. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes open again yet hazy. That same pink tint returns to his cheeks and you can anticipate what’s about to leave it next.

“Don’t say it,” you giggle, putting a finger on his lips. His eyes widen before he’s chuckling, about to say it again before he can catch himself. Instead, he replaces it with, “Okay.”

Soon enough do you replace the word from his vocabulary, stripping yourself out of your shorts and down to your soaked panties. Your juices stick to your inner thighs as you push the crotch of your underwear to the side and leave Megumi a short period of time to ogle your bare cunt. It’s such a beautiful sight to behold, the dark curls of your happy trail leading to the little bush that you adorn. How he’d like to run his fingers along the tufts of hair, but you’ve got his hands up again, commanding him not to touch. Your folds glisten magnificently in the lighting as Megumi’s dark pupils are trained on your pussy, watching how your essence sticks to them.

With the cum that sticks to his stomach, you use a finger to collect the strays and paint it over your clit. He watches in awe, the white painting to the contrast of your dark nub and into the hairs. It’s messy and downright disgusting how you’re playing in his release, but it has his cock needy in delight and anticipation. Your pussy envelopes his shafts, painting him in your sweet nectar that has him wondering if it’s the forbidden fruit. And if so, would you be willing to let him have a taste? Would God allow him to?

His tip kisses your entrance, nearly bringing him to his second release when you sink down onto him. It’s so dramatically slow, or maybe that’s mind conjuring that, beckoning himself to disobey you and pull you down against him to sheath himself completely inside you. Your hole swallows him up like corset strings continuing to pull and pull. You’re an enchanting temptress hovering over his body as your walls suck him in whole. It’s a miracle how he hasn’t succumbed to his wants by now.

You feel full, feeling how his cock has embedded itself inside you. Your pussy clenches around him, a sigh leaving your lips of true satisfaction. You still yourself for a moment, body going unmoving as he watches Megumi from below. He looks so in awe as though he’s in complete adoration of you and your body. His hands twitch overhead as you know he wants more than nothing that touch you again, wanting to feel the warmth of your skin as you fuck yourself on his cock. You’re amazed by him, how he keeps such a calm and collected composure inside of the classroom. Making him appear as he has everything together, but here he is— underneath you and you have his entire composure falling apart in a matter of seconds. How he was eager to have you play in his hair and shortly disintegrated into a thousand tiny pieces the moment you kissed him.

How he went under great lengths to try and prove that he’s truly sorry. You wonder how he feels, believing that the pretty rich girl that he thought was stupid now has him to the point where he can’t even think a coherent thought outside of your pussy. He’s come to believe that your cunt is magical and how it’s managed to make him come undone in such a short period of time. And when you start bouncing on his cock, you have him completely enamored. 

Your breasts move up and down at the pace you’ve set, already having him a moaning mess. The stench of sex reeks throughout the dorm room, your juices and Megumi’s release being so potent that your roommate will scorn you and have you spray air freshener until it’s gone and can’t smell a trace of it. Skin slapping against skin and your wanton moans filling the air as neither of you are quiet and you show no ounce of remorse for those next door hearing it. The bed creaks with your movement, and you’re watching how your juices stick to him every time you meet his pelvis. 

You’re focused on your pleasure, using his cock to get you off as you bounce and grind against his length. Pressing into him, his tip kisses at your g-spot, having you mewl against him as you fall into his chest. Breasts pressed into his chest, based on muscle memory, your lips find his in a matter of seconds as you continue to fuck his cock. Your pussy wraps him in a tight grip, having Megumi moan out against you. They’re swallowed away, but he doesn’t care. 

You find yourself gnawing at Megumi’s bottom lip when you feel your release approaching you, that familiar coil in your stomach greets you. Your mouth goes dry as your eyes squeeze shut as your teeth let go of Megumi’s lips. You don’t have to utter a word for him to know that you’re close. Your impending orgasm only eggs his on as he moves inside you. When your movements become more sporadic as your thighs begin to shake, it’s as though your body is control of his, commanding him to cum alongside you. Your juices seep down, adorning his cock in your creamy essence as continuously milks his cock. A white ring forms at the base as your cunt grows messy itself, the mixture of cum twirling itself inside of your pretty little bush as you ride out your orgasm. You whine at the overstimulation, your clit rubbing against Megumi as it becomes sensitive. 

Together, the two of you pant until that lust-blown fog is cleared from your minds and you’re staring into his eyes. Those blue eyes that stared back at you with so much lust and adoration. When you’re both breathing steadily, you lay your head in the crevice of his neck and feel the rhythmic beat of his heart. 

It’s his turn to play in your hair, messing with the braids and the curled locks of hair that reside outside of it. He comes to chuckle, the vibration jolting you up as you shift. His cock still inside you, your movement has him groaning when you look up at him in curiosity. “What?”

You’ll probably slap him for this. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene V: The Temporary Bliss)

Your fleeting moment of happiness is quickly overshadowed as old wounds from the past resurface.

Part warning: (18+) fingering, protected sex (because helping him roll down a condom is hot), and, unfortunately, angst Words: 4.8k A/n: so this is the last part of Act III: The Deception, you might want to prepare yourself as we get closer to the truth

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You were a coward. A fool. A mess. You didn’t know what to label yourself anymore, or if there were even words to describe the way you felt. But you did know one thing—you didn't have the strength to confront Spencer, you couldn't even see his face without feeling sick. So you did what you did best.

You avoided him. Plain and simple.

It was actually easier than you had expected. After that dreadful weekend, there seemed to be enough cases to distract you. You traveled across the state, one week in a new place, and another in a different city. By the end of the month, you hardly thought about him at all. Your friends seemed to be unaware of the underlying tension between you, and even if they did notice, they surprisingly kept their thoughts to themselves—everyone except Derek who teasingly pointed out that you seemed more focused on your work than usual.

You had shrugged off his comment with a forced laugh, brushing it off as if it was just a harmless observation. You told yourself that you were fine, that you had everything under control. But despite your efforts to stay distracted, the reality was different. The moment the plane landed back in Quantico, you knew you would have to face him again, especially when Emily suggested to hit the bar.

Her reason was to blow off steam after a gruesome few weeks, which was followed by a chorus of agreements from the team. Now you were left with no more excuses. Your eyes drifted toward him, his gaze slowly met yours, and that was how you found yourself in the same dingy, low-lit bar the team always gravitated to an hour later.

The familiar murmur of conversation and clinking of glasses greeted you as you entered the place. While the others settled to their usual spot in the corner, you quickly made a bee-line towards the bar. The bartender, a tall man with a slightly overgrown beard and sharp blue eyes, looked up as you approached.

He was cute, in a rugged, rough-around-the-edges kind of way. You would normally find yourself attracted to these types of men—confident, approachable, and with a certain easygoing charm. But apparently, your heart had other ideas, preferring a certain someone with a genius-level IQ with warm brown eyes.

“Hey, you're back," he greeted you, nodding his head. "Haven’t seen you in a while."

You leaned over the bar. "It's been a busy month."

"Where did you go off to this time?"

"Chicago."

He whistled softly. "Chicago, huh? Must have been a big one to send you all the way there." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “What did the bad guy do this time?”

You gave a small, secretive smile. "You know I can't talk about that. That's classified information."

The corner of his lips turned into a wide grin. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He picked up a glass and began wiping it down. “So, what’ll it be tonight? Your usual Margarita?”

You hesitated, shaking your head.

"Sex on the beach?"

Normally, you'd ask for either—you preferred something light and tangy, a drink that was strong enough to take the edge off without overwhelming you. But tonight was different. Tonight, you needed something with more kick.

“Give me a shot of tequila—no, make it two.”

A frown briefly crossed his face. “Are you sure?”

No.

“Yes,” you insisted. “I need something stronger tonight.”

The man studied your face for a moment before he nodded, pouring two generous shots in front of you. He turned to grab lime wedges from the small fridge under the counter but stopped abruptly when he noticed you’d already downed one of the shots.

"Wow, you weren't kidding.”

The strong liquor burned your throat. “That is disgusting.”

“That’s why you need this to chase it,” he said, sliding the lime wedge and a pinch of salt towards you. “Here.”

You purposely ignored him and brought the second glass to your lips, feeling the burn even before you swallowed.

“Here, take it.”

“No, I’m fine.” You pushed the now empty glass toward him, making a face. “Pour me another one.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on! I’m here with the gang!” You gestured toward the corner where the team was sitting. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

He hesitated, glancing over your shoulder and then back at you. “Fine, but this is the last one,” he said, reluctantly pouring another shot.

You gave him a quick nod, grabbing the shot and lifting it to your lips, steeling yourself for the burn. Just as you were about to drink, you felt a firm hand on your wrist. Your body tensed, not because of the sudden interruption, but because you felt another hand resting at your back before it slowly slid across, settling just at the soft curve of your waist.

You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. His smell was unmistakable—clean, with a hint of soap and the faintest trace of coffee.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

You watched as Spencer took the glass from your grip, settling it on the counter. Your brows knit together in confusion. “What are you doing?”

But instead of answering you, his eyes were focused intently on the bartender. “You shouldn’t have given her another glass.”

The bartender’s eyes widened slightly, and he held up his hands. “Hey, she asked for it.”

You nodded along. “To be fair, he did offer me Sex on the Beach.”

That didn’t seem to help. Spencer’s grip tightened on your waist, and you could feel him pulling you slightly closer to him. “That’s not funny. We need to get you some water.”

“Reid, it’s just two shots—”

He cut you off, turning back to the bartender. “Can she get a glass of water?”

The bartender nodded, quickly grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He handed it to Spencer, who then turned his attention back to you. “Drink this, please.”

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you protested.

He placed the glass in your hand. “Drink it.”

“Two shots,” you argued, finally facing him. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve drunk a lot worse than this.”

“I'm aware.”

“Then why does it bother you so much?”

He went quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting between you, the glass of water, then back to you.

“Because I don’t like being the reason you’re drinking something you hate in the first place.”

You quickly downed the cool water. How could you even answer that? Your skin suddenly felt hot, and your palms grew clammy as he kept his hand on your waist. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“It’s not because of you,” you said, shrugging as you set the glass down.

"Isn't it, though? Why else would you be reacting this way?"

“Maybe I just like tequila now. Did you ever think of that?”

“You hate tequila," he replied as if it was common knowledge.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve developed a taste for it.”

“So you’ve suddenly decided you like something you’ve been avoiding for years?”

“Maybe I’m trying new things,” you shot back, your tone sharp. “Maybe you should try it too.”

There was a moment of silence as he considered your words. "I am trying new things."

You felt him tug you slightly, letting your body fall against his. Your heart sped up as you stared up at him. Even in the dim light of the bar, his brown eyes seemed to catch the faint glow, looking lighter and more intense than usual. You watched as his gaze drifted slowly to your lips.

"Reid..."

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

His expression softened as he looked back at you, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. "I'm trying to play the perfect boyfriend."

"So this is all an act?"

This was it, the moment of truth, the point where everything could change. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “No,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your hip.

Your hand fell to his chest, fingers pressing lightly to feel the rapid beat of his heart. It was pounding, just as fast as yours.

"Spencer..."

He let out a sigh—a sound that seemed to carry both relief and a touch of disbelief as it left his lips. "I thought I'd never hear you call me that again."

He was right. Ever since you drifted apart, calling him Reid felt safer, like a barrier that kept things distant and professional. Spencer was too personal, too intimate for the walls you had built around yourself. But now, standing so close, it felt like the past and present were colliding, making everything more confusing.

Your finger played with the knot of his tie, absentmindedly tracing the pattern. "You're making this more complicated."

He nodded. "I know."

"We're supposed to break this off."

"I know."

"We're supposed to stick to the plan."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, struggling for a moment before replying, “If that's what you want, then we'll go through it. But...”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "But what?"

"But I need to know if it’s really what you want." His voice faltered slightly. "If you want me to leave, I will."

His question hung in the air like a thick fog, making it hard for you to think clearly. It was a simple choice, wasn't it? Stick to the plan, keep up the fake dating, and finally break it off. No mess, no complications. But why, then, did the thought of him leaving feel like a heavy weight in your chest?

You caught him nervously trailing his bottom lip with his tongue—a habit of his when he was deep in thought. The simple gesture made you feel an unexpected pull, and before you knew it, you found yourself pressing closer to him.

“Spence,” you murmured. “You’re making this really hard.”

“I don’t want to make it hard,” he said quietly. “I-I just I need to know where we stand.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The words felt heavy on your tongue, but you knew you needed to say them.

"I want you to leave," you started, watching as his expression shifted, a hint of pain flickering in his eyes as he slowly pulled away. But before he could step back, you tugged on his tie, pulling him back towards you. "But I'm leaving with you."

His eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"

And suddenly, a wave of embarrassment washed over you, and you looked away. "What I'm trying to say is... that—well..."

"Well?"

Your gaze focused somewhere beyond his shoulder, finding it easier to speak without meeting his eyes. "I want to finish what we started that morning."

He blinked, processing your words. "You mean... when we..."

"Yeah."

You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "Oh." He leaned in slightly, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. "How drunk are you right now?"

You couldn't help but let a laugh escape your lips, finally looking back at him. "I had two shots!"

His expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"If we…" He trailed off, clearing his throat before continuing, "If we do this, it'll change everything."

You smoothed down his shirt, your fingers lingering on the fabric. "I know."

"And you still want that?"

"I do."

He took a deep breath, searching your eyes for any hesitation. "And you want to leave... right now?"

"Look, if you don't want to—"

He quickly cut you off, shaking his head with a slight, nervous chuckle. “No, I do. I just… I want to make sure you do too.”

"I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't mean it."

His eyes softened. “You’re right,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile that looked almost like a grimace. “Okay. Okay. We’re doing this.”

Seeing him easily flustered was always amusing for you, and this time was no different. "Come on," you urged him, taking his hand in yours. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait, shouldn't we tell them we're leaving?"

You glanced back at your friends. "And tell them what? That we're going to have sex?"

He almost tripped over his own feet. "Well, when you put it that way…"

You squeezed his hand and flashed him a smile over your shoulder as you started toward the exit. With a quick, eager step, he followed behind.

Spencer’s apartment was just as you remembered—deep green walls, warm lighting, bookshelves lining every corner. But you barely had a moment to register your surroundings before he had his face buried in your neck.

His lips found the sensitive spot below your ear. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as his mouth trailed a wet path down your throat, and you had to push against his chest slightly because he was pressing you too hard against the door. For a man who spent most of his time buried in books, he seemed to have an unexpected strength that took you by surprise.

“Hey, hey,” you murmured, a soft giggle escaping as you tilted your head to look at him. “Slow down.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes before leaning down again, his hands coming up to cup your face as he kissed you.

His lips were hot against yours, moving with an eager, almost desperate need. He sucked gently on your lower lip, pulling it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft, audible pop. The sudden absence of his mouth left your skin tingling, only to be followed by the gentle graze of his teeth, a playful nip that made you gasp and clutch his shirt tighter.

You felt lightheaded, melting under his touch as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them open as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them open. You let him in willingly, your tongue meeting his eagerly. The sensation left you feeling hot and dizzy, your entire body craving for more of his taste. It was as if his kiss was an intoxicating drug, leaving you utterly addicted. Even when he pulled away slightly to catch his breath, you grabbed him again, pressing your lips firmly against his.

Spencer sighed with pleasure as he held the back of your head, his fingers splaying against your scalp. You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the way his lips moved against yours, but the instant you felt his growing bulge brush your hip, you gently pushed him away.

A thin, glistening string of saliva followed you, and you reached up to wipe it from his mouth with a quick, almost embarrassed swipe. His breath came in ragged gasps as he looked down at you, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Sorry, I-I got carried away," he mumbled, letting his hand trail down your spine. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. "You thought I pushed you away because I want us to stop?"

"Uh... maybe? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, Spencer," you said softly, reaching up to loosen the knot of his tie. "I pushed you away because I need you to take me to your bed."

He watched intently as you pulled off his tie, and when you pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, his hands fell to his sides.

"Are you going to watch me undress you, or are you going to help?"

A slow smile spread across his face as he shrugged off the jacket completely, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. "I think I can manage that."

He started to unbutton his shirt, his fingers brushing against yours. The moment the last button was undone, he let the shirt fall to the floor with a soft rustle. Your palm glided over his chest as you took in his bare skin. You expected his body to be lean—he had long limbs, after all—but you didn't expect the subtle, defined muscles beneath your touch.

"Spencer, have you been working out?"

You could tell he was embarrassed by the way he shifted his gaze from you. "Morgan convinced me to stay in shape," he admitted with a shy smile. "He insists it's part of the job."

You plant a kiss right above his heart. "Well, it's definitely working."

The warmth of your lips seemed to ease his embarrassment, and he let out a soft sigh, his hands coming up to caress your back. You glanced up at him again. "Will you take me to your bed now?"

He quickly nodded and guided you towards his bedroom. Once inside, you pushed him down onto the edge of his bed. His hands roamed across your body as you slipped between his legs, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. The front of the fabric fell away and his gaze followed every movement, his hands eagerly helping you slide it off your shoulders.

Your bra came off next, the straps sliding down your arms as you tossed it aside. His eyes swept over you with admiration as he licked his lips, his gaze lingering on the exposed curve of your body. He pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

When he wrapped his lips around your nipple, a sharp, electrifying pleasure shot through you. His tongue flicked and teased, alternating between gentle suckles and soft nibbles that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him to you as he continued his ministrations, moving from one breast to the other.

The hand on your back slid lower, his fingers finding the waistband of your pants. You felt him unbutton them, the fabric loosening around your hips. With a firm but gentle tug, he slipped your pants down your legs, followed closely by your panties, until both garments pooled around your feet.

His hand began running up your leg, fingers slipping between your thighs. He let go of your nipple and looked up at you with those brown eyes that seemed to gleam under the light. “Can I touch you?”

You brushed his hair back gently from his forehead. “You’ve touched me before.”

“I want to hear you say it.” 

You felt his fingertips brush so lightly over your clit and you nodded. “Yes,” you breathed out, “You can touch me.”

All you could do was sigh as his fingers moved again. He was so gentle, so careful, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, spreading your arousal with each teasing stroke. His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features, drinking in the way your lips parted and your breath hitched with each touch.

"Th—That feels good," you cooed, your eyes fluttering low but not completely shut, wanting to see him as he worked over you. He followed your gaze where his fingers continued their exploration, gently pulling back the soft flesh to expose your clit. He traced light, feathery strokes over the sensitive skin and the motion left your legs shaking, nearly losing balance if he weren't holding you against him.

He grabbed the back of your thigh. “Put your leg up here.”

You complied and rested your feet on the bed, giving more access. The new position allowed him to press his fingers more deeply against your clit, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm. You were trembling, mind numb from the way he was touching you, and you almost couldn’t take it when he dipped his middle finger inside your cunt.

"God, Spencer,” you gasped, dropping a hand to the wrist that was nestled between your legs, nails digging into his skin. He slipped another finger inside you, and your eyes screwed shut this time. You could feel his fingers curling inside you, seeking, then finding, the tender spot that made you cry out in pleasure.

Everything became a blur after that. His fingers continued to thrust into you, and with each movement, you grew wetter, the slick sounds of your arousal echoing throughout his room. You clung to his shoulders for support, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he pressed soft kisses across your chest. His thumb then brushed against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure in gentle circles.

"I'm…” Your eyes fluttered open when his mouth latched onto your hard nipple. “I'm gonna come... if you... keep doing that..." 

You weren't even sure why you were warning him, but you couldn’t stop yourself as your hips rolled against his hands. His thumb circled your clit faster in response, and the world around you began to spin. You gasped his name, the sound escaping your lips in a desperate, breathless moan.

When his teeth softly grazed your sensitive nipple, you finally snapped. Wave after wave of orgasm bliss rolled through your body, the pulse of pleasure sending your thighs trembling as he held you through all of it. It's all too much, too intense, and you were left completely spent, shaking, breathless, and needing to lay down immediately.

Spencer caught you as you collapsed on top of him, the force of your weight pushing him onto his back. You stayed like that for a moment, trying to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly against his. But it didn't last long when you felt his bulge press right between your thighs. Without thinking, you found yourself rolling your hips.

He let out a sharp gasp, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you moved against him. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the hardness of his erection pressing against you through the fabric of his pants as your face hovered above his, lips barely touching.

"So when are you going to fuck me?"

He bucked his hips against you. "I-I... I have a condom in my drawer."

His words made you falter. Why does he have a condom?

It was stupid, really, you knew why contraception was necessary. But the thought of him having an active sexual life with someone else after you had drifted apart stung deeply. It wasn’t technically your business, but knowing that he might have been with others hurt, especially when the last man you had been close to was him.

"Spence... why do you have a condom?"

You hated how small your voice sounded.

He gently brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours as he weighed his words before letting out a sigh. "After… after that night, when we—almost… I just wanted to be prepared. I didn't know if… if we'd ever…"

You slowly relaxed. "So you haven't used any?"

He shook his head. "No, I haven't."

Your heart swelled at his words. You leaned in and kissed him softly, a sudden rush of affection washing over you. "Well, I think it's time we put it to use," you whispered against his lips, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Where did you put it?"

"Bottom drawer, on the left."

You pulled away to reach over to his drawer, hearing the sound of his belt buckle unlatching behind you. Your eyes briefly flashed towards the book sitting on the nightstand, a glimpse of its cover catching your attention. But you didn’t dwell on it, you were too focused on rummaging through his things until your fingers brushed against the familiar texture of the wrapper.

He was completely naked as you turned to face him again, your eyes catching his cock resting perfectly against his stomach as he leaned back against the pillows. You crawled over to him and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his bulging tip.

He let out a sharp hiss. "I-I don't think I can last long if you do that."

You smiled and straightened yourself, your fingers delicately tearing open the wrapper. You could feel his eyes on you, half-lidded with desire, his focus narrowing to the way your fingers brushed against his skin. His body tensed, and his breathing grew heavier, as you slowly slid the condom down his length.

The thin latex felt almost invisible under your fingertips, allowing the heat radiating from his body to seep through. He couldn't take his eyes off you, mesmerized by the way your fingers glided over him so effortlessly. Your touch was firm yet gentle, and when you finally reached the base, you gave him a final, possessive squeeze.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands finding your hips as you positioned yourself over him. You hovered above his tip, teasingly brushing it against your entrance before slowly sinking down. You paused halfway, adjusting to his size, feeling lightheaded as he stretched you regardless of how wet you were. It was overwhelming, but the numbness was exactly the kind of rush you were seeking.

And finally, with a deep breath, you let gravity pull you down, taking him all the way in.

You both gasped at the sensation, the intense fullness causing your muscles to clench around him. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he steadied you. Then, slowly, you began to move, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down.

Your breaths synchronized, shallow and quick, as you found a steady rhythm. Spencer’s hands guided you, his palms pressing firmly on your hips before trailing back to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You held onto his jaw as you leaned in, your lips meeting in a heated, breathless kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth and your brain turned to mush.

He kissed you hungrily while your hips continued to rise and fall, each movement driving him deeper inside you. You felt his hands roam your body, one sliding up your back to pull you closer, while the other remained on your ass, encouraging you. You moaned into his mouth, the sensation of his lips and his cock brushing your tight, inner walls making you tremble with pleasure.

You pulled back slightly, resting your forehead against his. "S-Spence..."

He nipped at your bottom lip, casually biting and pulling it between his teeth. "Mhm?"

You didn’t know why you had called out his name, only that you needed to. It was more of a reflex than anything else, a desperate need to connect as your pace quickened. He let out a low, throaty sound of pleasure as your walls clenched around him. And that was when you heard your name on his lips. It was soft, but it was enough to drive you to the edge. You rolled your hips urgently, trying to chase that familiar, blissful sensation but your thighs started to burn, your movements slowing down a little. He sensed your struggle and tightened his hands on your waist.

His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips bucking up to meet yours with force. His thrusts suddenly became more relentless, each powerful push driving him deeper inside you. The slick, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt filled the air, the squelch of your joined body punctuating with each thrust.

The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it was all-consuming. Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, you were both pushed over the edge. Your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm at the same time he spilled into you. His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes squeezed shut as your fingers dug into his shoulders, riding out every wave of your climax.

It took a few more minutes before you felt his body relax. You did the same, collapsing on top of him as he is hands softened their grip on you, gently caressing your back.

"Are you… okay?" You simply nodded, too tired to find your own voice. His thumb brushed your side. “Are you sure?”

You nodded again, snuggling yourself closer, feeling the weight of your body pressing down on him. He kissed the top of your head.

“I know you’re making yourself comfortable, but I really need to go to the bathroom.”

You lifted your head, meeting his eyes. “Would it bother you if I peed at the same time you clean yourself?”

The smile that spread across his face lit up his features. “Of course not.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his chest before reluctantly rolling off him. Spencer slid off the bed and reached for your hand, helping you up. You both moved to the bathroom, where Spencer headed for the sink to wash up while you made your way to the toilet.

As you sat there, you thought about how surprisingly natural this felt—almost as if you had done this before. The way he naturally kissed your cheek before exiting the bathroom didn’t feel awkward or out of place, it was oddly comforting. When you finally finished, he was already waiting for you in comfortable clothes. He stretched out his hand, and when you took it, he pulled you close. “Are you hungry?”

You found yourself nodding. “I could eat something.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll make us some sandwiches, I think I have enough stuff in the fridge,” he suggested, and then added somewhat sheepishly, “I also, um, put some fresh clothes out for you to use. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart might burst at how adorable he was. “Thank you, Spence. That’s really sweet.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before heading to the kitchen. You picked up the clothes he had laid out for you—a soft t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, but as you held them, your gaze drifted back to the book sitting on his nightstand. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked up the book, studying the cover.

The Narrative of John Smith.

You opened it, noticing the handwritten quote on the first page.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another.” —Thomas Merton—

A sudden feeling of nausea hit you, as if you’d been punched in the gut. You flipped through the pages, trying to steady your breathing. It wasn’t the softness of the paper that greeted you as you slipped onto the next page, but the sharp edges of something hard brushing against your fingertips. You carefully pulled out what seemed to be a photograph, your heart sinking as you realized whose it was… Because right in your hand, Maeve was smiling back at you.

Maeve.

Maeve. Donovan.

Everything suddenly came crashing back, the past shooting straight to your heart. The memories, the pain, the confusion—it all flooded your mind in an instant. You remembered why you and Spencer had drifted apart, why that night had changed everything. The woman staring back at you was the reason you had shut yourself off from him in the first place.

No, it wasn’t all her fault—you’d be a heartless fool to blame a dead woman for something she couldn’t control. But she had consumed his mind. The presence she held in his life was enough to end the friendship you once had. And now, holding the photograph, you felt an overwhelming tightness in your chest that made it hard to breathe. The walls seemed to close in, the room feeling too small.

You needed to get out of here.

You quickly pulled on your clothes, the fabric feeling suffocating as you hurriedly dressed. Your movements were frantic, driven by a need to escape. You dashed out of his room, but Spencer was already standing by the bedroom door.

"I was just about to call you, the food is—hey, what's wrong?"

You walked past him, the pain constricting your chest so tightly that you could barely breathe, let alone speak. “I… I need to go,” you stammered out over your shoulder.

Spencer's face fell as he saw the distress in your eyes, his hands reaching out to stop you as you headed for the front door. He turned you to face him, and the moment he saw the tears threatening to spill, his own expression crumpled in worry.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his hands gently cupping your face. You flinched and shoved him away.

“Don’t touch me.”

You noticed the hurt in his eyes, but you barely looked at him, trying to control your own emotions. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion. You felt the lingering warmth from the post-orgasmic rush, the serotonin still buzzing in your veins, but at the same time, the gut-wrenching pain was consuming you. The fleeting sensation you’d felt moments ago seemed like a cruel mockery now, as your heart twisted with every beat.

“You’re really leaving?”

You slowly nodded, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Just like that, after tonight?”

You remained silent, your mouth shut tight. Then you heard him mutter something under his breath, barely audible but unmistakable.

“That’s what you always do, isn’t it?”

Your eyes snapped to him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

There was a heavy silence, a beat of rising tension as his eyes narrowed at you. “You run away when things get hard.”

You stared back at him in surprise. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Yes,” he said sharply. “Every time we get to a point where we might actually resolve something, you disappear.”

Was that really how he saw you? Someone who ran away at the first sign of trouble? The thought was a bitter pill, one that left a heavy, sour taste in your mouth.

“That’s not fair,” you protested, shaking your head as you felt the sting of tears at the corner of your eyes.

“Well, you know what’s not fair?” His voice suddenly turned a pitch higher, each word cutting through the air. “Pulling me into this—this whole fake relationship thing and then running away when it starts to mean something real.”

“What?” The accusation stung, a sharp jab to your already fragile heart. “You think this was easy for me? You think I didn’t have doubts?”

"I think you dragged me into this and now you’re scared because it’s not just a game anymore," he pressed, his eyes flashing with frustration as he stepped closer. “Every time l show that l actually care, you run away.”

“I don’t run away.”

“Yes, you do. You always bail on me,” he argued, his tone growing sharper with each word. “Just like that morning, just like now, and just like that night—”

You finally had enough.

"Don’t you dare bring that up!” You snapped. “You don’t get to use that against me. You know exactly why I had to leave!”

Spencer flinched as if he was struck. The impact of your words hit him hard, and you could see the hurt and realization dawning in his eyes. His posture sagged, the tension in his shoulders melting away as the anger drained from his face. “I know, I know,” he whispered, the regret clear in his voice. “I-I’m sorry.”

Your heart ached, the pain of old wounds reopening. The memories of that night, the way you felt invisible and helpless—it all came crashing back. You shook your head, taking a step back, needing to put distance between you. “No, I can’t do this right now.”

You turned away, desperate to escape. The walls felt like they were closing in, your chest tightening with every breath.

“Wait,” he called after you. “I’m sorry. Please… I don’t… stay, please.”

You paused slightly, but you couldn’t let yourself give in. Not when every painful memory from that night seemed to claw its way back to the surface. Not when the fear of getting hurt again loomed so large. Not when you knew if you turned back now, you might never find the strength to walk away again.

“We should end this whole thing,” you said quietly, each word feeling like a knife twisting in your heart. “I’ll tell Hotch first thing in the morning.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The reality of what you had said sank in, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had frozen. His face fell, a look of utter devastation crossed his features as his eyes searched yours, trying to grasp at the fragments of what was left. He opened his mouth to speak, but you couldn’t bear to face him any longer.

You slowly reached for the door, wrenching it open before stepping into the cold night. You left him standing there, watching helplessly as you walked away for what felt like the hundredth time.

[httpsserene]

I love your entire page, so I was thrilled to see that your requests are open. May I request a story with Daniel Ricciardo x Reader? Perhaps something where the reader is experiencing a moment of low self-esteem, comparing herself to his ex, and feeling down since they've recently started dating, yet the fans want his ex back. When Danny is dominant it makes me melt so perhaps a smut that is center on body worshipping yet leads to crazy back shots/missionary. He made you come multiple times and despite you trying to tap out , he’s not stopping anytime soon creating a big creamy mess 🫠

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝟐

Summary: She’s the least favorite Formula One WAG. At first, she was optimistic, the fans would eventually get over it and maybe even start liking her—but she now knows that was a pretty naive thought. She’s constantly compared to Daniel’s ex-girlfriend—she’s not as pretty as her, she’s not as supportive as her, she’s not as popular as her, etc. Unfortunately, in a moment of low self-esteem—she breaks and thinks maybe the fans are right. Daniel, with a sixth sense of knowing when you’ve lost your mind, comes home and sees you gathering every belonging of yours that’s migrated to his apartment like you’re breaking up with him. He tries to change your mind with his words, but that doesn’t quite reassure you completely; so he has no choice but to do it with his actions, too. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!black-coded!reader (her skin is described as brown) Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. no beta we die like men. no srs it’s barely edited. angst with a happy ending. hurt/comfort. dom/sub undertones. arguing. breaking up/making up. those three little words. attempt at humor (a lil bit). implied subspace. insecure!reader. body worship. vaginal sex. oral sex (female receiving). online hate. overstimulation. protected sex. aftercare. this is dirty, i am so sorry. Word Count: 5k words.

Author's Notes: okay it's a couple hours late, but i was hit with a little creative genius and i think you guys will really enjoy this one! and it's the longest one too! an entire five-thousand words wow. aren't you glad i added more to this masterpiece.

let me know what you think! xxxxx

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

You’re trending on Twitter. No—not for one of your TikToks that you hope went viral, but under the hashtag #breakupwithherdaniel. Fans have decided to start a movement to make signs to take to the next Grand Prix, with pictures of your face posted next to that hashtag. In all of the tweets, they’re commenting on how they wished Daniel and his ex were still together, or comparing you to her, and saying that you’re toxic—you! In this situation, where none of the people online personally know you and take to bashing you on the internet; you are the toxic one! And that’s the last straw. You start packing your shit up into bags and whatever boxes you can find. A large amount of your belongings have migrated to Daniel’s apartment, even if you don’t officially live with him. You’ve been dating him for just over six months, and the entire time your relationship has been public his fans have harassed you.

They prefer his ex over you, it’s that simple. It probably doesn’t help that you’re not like one of the white models everybody thinks f1 drivers should date, but enough is enough. It didn’t bother you at first, you thought with just a little time everyone would calm down but the opposite has happened. They’ve only gotten worse and things have escalated to the point where it’s affecting your career and—you can’t take it anymore. And, maybe they’re right. Daniel doesn’t deserve to date a girl who can’t take the harsh eye of the media and fans. He’d be better off without you, and he might certainly be better off with his ex. She was there in his darkest times and his brightest successes. They ended on good terms so with a little charm, Daniel wouldn’t have a problem with getting back with her, surely. 

You’re throwing your bags on the living room couch, pulling a suitcase you left here from when you last traveled with him to throw your shoes into. And then, you hear the door open. 

Daniel’s happy voice carries to you from the entryway, “Baby, I’m home! I stopped at the store to pick up a slice of your favorite cake, because I know you’ve been needing some cheering up—”

You hear his steps halt as he sees you in the living room, bags and boxes filled to the brim with your stuff. 

“Baby?” Daniel asks, “What’s this about? This is late for it to be spring cleaning.”

You shake your head, swallowing softly as you turn to meet his eyes, “I’m leaving, Daniel.”

“What?” Daniel says confused.

“Don’t make it any more difficult than it needs to be,” you start, unable to fight back your tears any longer, “Just let me get my stuff and leave.”

Daniel rushes to you, pulling you to look at him, holding your arms still when you try to push him away from you.

“You’ve got to give me more than that. You’re leaving—why? Is it something I did? Did I say something? How long have you felt like this? I could’ve—I can fix it, baby. Don’t leave me,” Daniel pleads, his own eyes radiating how hurt, confused, and disbelieving he feels, “I thought we were strong? We’re the closest to being perfect, I thought. We barely argue; and even when we do it’s resolved properly. I don’t yell, I don’t talk to other women, I don’t ignore your calls or messages, I’m not possessive, I’m not crazy–what can I do? For you to stay, what can I do?”

“Nothing, Daniel. You can’t change my mind. But—it’s not your fault, okay? It’s me,” you cry harder when Daniel scoffs at your response, “I’m serious, Danny. It’s my fault.  I can’t take it anymore okay? You’re better off without me; I’m a distraction, I’m not as supportive as I should be, I’m not your type–you’d just perform and be happier without me, okay?”

“Fuck no,” Daniel emphasizes, “Who the hell is telling you that? Because I know you seriously don’t believe that. You’re the best thing to happen to me in my entire life, baby. You’re not a distraction, you support me tirelessly, and you sure as hell are my type. I can’t keep my hands off of you, you scold me all the time for that so, how can you say that ‘you’re not my type?’ I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you, ask anybody, baby.”

You groan angrily, “Not anybody! Have you asked your fucking fans? They sure as hell think that I’m the devil reincarnated. I can’t do anything publicly without being verbally harassed for it. I can’t dress the way I want to, I can’t act the way I want to, and I can’t even go to work! Your little fangirls are affecting my career—and I can’t do it anymore. They’ve won. I can’t take the judgment anymore, not for me just existing. You’d be happier with your ex, just like they want you to be.”

You and Daniel stare at each other silently, the air tense. 

“What do you mean,” Daniel pauses, his jaw tightening, “What do you mean they’re affecting your career?”

“They’re threatening to fire me because of my image. They’re saying I’m smearing the company's appearance,” you sigh out, picking at your cuticles anxiously. Daniel grabs your hands, stopping you.

“I’m going to kill them, baby–”

“Daniel!” you cut him off, aghast.

“No, I don’t care,” He dismisses, “The nerve of them to convince you that you’re not good enough for me. I should’ve kept asking you if you were bothered by the negative attention, but ever since you told me that you could handle it, I never checked in. And, I failed to see that it was getting worse. Worse enough to make you think that you need to leave to escape it. I’m going to embarrass those fans publicly and I’m going to get the team to back me up. As far as your job, I always hated them anyway. I never liked how they would deny your vacation time even though you had the days—you should quit.”

You stare at him deadpan, “Daniel Ricciardo. I’m not quitting my job and I am also still leaving.”

“Mhm, no,” Daniel scoffs hysterically, “You’re not breaking up with me. And, you would have a better reason to quit, if you stayed with me. I’ll retire you and make you my trophy wife, please.  Seriously, babe. Don’t leave. I should’ve dealt with the fans earlier, I know—it’s my fault that it even reached this point. Please, just stay with me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, crumbling into tears again, “They all seem to think your ex is a better fit and…I think I agree with them.”

Daniel gathers you into his arms, tucking you into his shoulder, “Baby, I broke up with her for a reason. And, I’m glad I did. All of those chronically online fans have no clue about why I broke up with her. I couldn’t imagine going back into that relationship, especially now that I’ve found you. Let me prove it to you, baby.

You sob, “How are you going to prove anything to me right now? Can I just be dramatic for a little longer?”

He laughs, giddy at the sound of your usual antics, “Well, I am going to set the media on fire with the language I use to address how the world has been disrespecting you. But first, I’m going to take you to bed and remind you what you’d be missing out on if you left. What other man could learn to know you as intimately as I do, hm? C’mon, baby—let me prove it to you. Let your body decide.”

Leaning back to look at him through your tears,  you think,  fuck it, why not?

Daniel presses you into the bed; you whine out desperately when he breaks the kiss, your eyes focused on the plush warmth of his lips as you try to chase them. The eagerness of your actions only dawns on you as you see his lips shift into a smiling laugh then, the embarrassment washes over you; honestly, you think, you can’t act like you can’t live without having his lips touching yours—he might find your yearning repulsive. Did his ex act like this for him? What if that’s why he broke up with her—

“Heyheyhey—don’t hide from me, baby,” Daniel coos concerned, his hand gently coaxing you to turn your head and meet his eyes, you didn’t even notice when you moved to hide your face with the pillow; he continues, “Where’d you go just then, pretty girl? Please tell me, baby, don’t hold it in.”

You meet his troubled gaze, and the love and care you see pouring out causes fresh tears to dance across your waterline. Through your blurry sight, you see Daniel’s brow furrow saddeningly as he carefully pulls you up into a sitting position and holds you tightly as you cry into his shoulder. His left hand massages the back of your neck, and his right hand finds a calming rhythm as he rubs your back. Your tears taper out quicker, and you wonder if you’ve exhausted their supply from the crying you’ve done today.

You draw back from his embrace, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, and your voice shakes and cracks as you begin to speak, “I’ve never been this insecure about myself. I couldn’t give a single fuck about what people say or think about me. But, today? It was just too much, Danny. Seeing all of your fans tear down every aspect of me; my personality, my looks, my body—why? And, they’re doing it under the reasoning that, I’m not good for you. Like, you’re not a grown man, who can decide who he wants to date? I support you quietly and loudly and’ll do it forever, but that’s not enough for them. And, today, it felt like it would  never be enough.

“So, when I saw them making signs, t-to…to encourage you to break up with me,” Daniel muffles a sound of hurt in his chest, “I was humiliated. I-I, didn’t want that sort of attention for you, they should be focused on your racing, not your undeserving girlfriend. And, I thought I’d make it easy for you and leave.”

“Baby, no…”

“You’re such a good boyfriend, Daniel. It would be so much easier for you to end this relationship and go back to your ex, or date some other girl that satisfies you and your fans—”

“Babe, no,” Daniel cuts you off, his tone hardened, “The only person that needs to be satisfied with you is me. And, I am. The opinions of those fucking idiots don’t matter to me, and they shouldn’t matter to you. Because that’s all they are: opinions, and they’re absolutely stupid opinions, at that. They’re comments have done the complete opposite of convincing me to leave you. They’ve shown me that I need to let you know how much I want you with me—they’ve made me realize that I need to let you know that I love you.”

Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering. It’s the first time, he’s said it.  Daniel loves you.

Sobbing softly, you murmur, “I hope you’re not only saying those three words because you think it’s going to make me happy. Because, I do love you, too.”

Daniel laughs wetly. “I’m saying that I love you now because you need to know that. I would’ve preferred to say it under different circumstances but, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m ridiculously in love with you. And—fuck everybody who’s saying you’re not good enough for me. If anything, I’m not good enough for you. I haven’t even won you a trophy, yet.”

You stare at him in disbelief, “Shut the fuck up. You’re everything to me. You could be driving the slowest car on the grid and I would still be celebrating your last-place finishes like you’ve won the championship.”

Daniel stares at you silently and you nearly fear that you’ve broken him. He sighs out lovingly before, leaning down and pressing kisses across your entire face to wash away your tear tracks. He finishes with a barely there kiss to the tip of your nose and asks quietly, “Let me show you that I love you. I don’t think saying it is enough.”

You look at him. You find what you’re looking for because you agree, “Okay.”

Daniel perks up, “Okay?”

You nod, slowly sliding down to rest on your back against the bed like you were before. “Yes.”

Your boyfriend shifts to kneel in between your legs, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your sweater, and once he gets confirmation from you, he smoothly pulls it off of you, dropping it off the bedside. His hands spread across the expanse of your abdomen and move to rest on your waist as he buries himself in the length of your neck. He nips kisses and presses of tongue along your brown skin, surprising you often with the ache of teeth and suction to bloom bruises. When he slides downwards, he paints your collarbone and decolletage loosely, the irritated flesh only sends flares of pleasure across your nerves. Daniel huffs in frustration as the straps of your bra disrupt the smooth skin across your shoulders, and he pulls you upwards to arch into him as he slips his hand underneath to unclasp the closure. You’re brain comes online to help him remove the offending fabric as you shrug out of the straps and desperately fling the bra to a corner of the room you can’t care to look at.

Daniel hums thankfully and resumes tracing along your shoulder, down your arms, and to the bones of your wrists and tips of your fingers with gentle hands followed by his lips. 

He swallows before speaking, “Whenever you’re splayed out so prettily underneath me, I forget how to act. The cloudy look in your eyes, your chest covered with my love, the muscles in your shoulders and arms relaxed and syrupy—so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

You can’t find the words to respond to him because your entire body sings out when Daniel’s lips suction around your nipple. You feel his tongue swirl around, wetting it before his teeth join in and scrape softly against the sensitive bud. He releases you and even though your eyelids have fluttered shut at the feeling, you feel him watching you as your back rises off the bed and your head falls back. His hand finds its place right underneath your breasts, and he pushes you back down into the mattress and holds you there as he continues the assault of his lips on your chest. You can only cry out with every tug of his teeth, every suckle of his lips on the surrounding skin, whimpers choked down as his mouth ravages you entirely. Your hand flies to Daniel’s hair for purchase, and to press his head further into your chest, but he pulls away.

“Forgive me—but I love your chest, baby. I love how you let me take naps on them and play with my hair, I love the feeling of them in my hand, I love making you scream every time I play with them. And, you taught me that the only answer to ass versus boobs is both of them. Because, I would willingly suffocate in either of them, and all of you.”

Your chest heaves as you try to regain some air in your lungs, but Daniel doesn’t let you breathe for a second, “One day, I hope you let me fuck your pretty chest.”

Your mouth drops open, as you flounder for the air and words required to respond to his statement.

“Another time, though. May I take off your pants, baby? I  need to fuck you.”

“Yesyes—please, hurry up,” you rush out, already moving to shimmy out of your bottoms, Daniel tugging them off roughly when they get caught around your ankles. The strength he uses slides you down the bed a little, and you can’t help but muffle a gasp underneath your hand. 

He pulls your hand from your mouth in an instant, “No. Not tonight. I let you get away with hiding your sounds from me before, but I need to know how good I’m making you feel,” he pauses to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist and continues, “Be as loud as you want, love.”

You nod jerkily, and Daniel lowers your arm to rest against the bed carefully, before he shuffles down the bed, resting on his stomach and spreading your legs to drape along his shoulders. He starts with your right leg; nipping at the bone of your ankle before following with a soothing touch of his lips, and moving upwards, biting and kissing along the muscles of your calf, the inside of your knee. He slows when he reaches the plush meet of your thigh, taking his time biting the muscle and laving over the teeth marks he leaves with his tongue. He repeats the treatment along your left leg, ignoring how he can see the wetness dripping out of you, darkening the fabric of your panties. 

“Love your legs, baby,” Daniel breaths shakily, “Calves, and thighs, muscle, and all plush skin. If I could choose how to go out, it would be in between them. Doesn’t matter if they’re around my waist, or my head—it’s fucking paradise, baby.”

Your thighs shudder as if they’ve heard his words, and Daniel notices immediately. His hands move to grasp them and let his thumbs dig into the fresh marks he’s added against your brown skin. You keen airily, your thighs attempting to shut, but Daniel’s hands keep you spread with little effort. He leans down and hides his smile by pressing his mouth to your panties. He proceeds to noisily kiss along your covered cunt, dragging his tongue and nose through the soaked fabric, humming amusedly when your hips buck down onto him, one of his hands shifting to press your pelvis to the mattress.

You’re mortified. Daniel’s pretty much making out with your cunt over your panties, and he seems to be enjoying it as much as you if the way his hips are rocking along the bed is any telling when you raise your head to stare down at him. His eyes shut as he loses himself between your legs; he looks blissed out and you drop your head back against the mattress, bringing your hand to tangle in the mess of his curls. He pulls away with a grunt and you tug at his hair annoyed, sitting up slightly to see what he stopped for—

His eyes are wild, drenched with lust. Daniel doesn’t waste time pulling your panties off, roughly tugging the fabric covering your cunt to the side, tucking it in the dip between your groin and thigh. You see his eyes roll back slightly at the sight of you before he shuts them and dives forward to bring his mouth down on your cunt. His tongue pushes inside of you sloppily and his nose makes sure your clit is always receiving attention. The only option you have is to choke on your moans and grasp for stability in his hair and the sheets of the bed. Your tummy undulates at the pleasure racketing up your spinal cord, it’s too much to process already. And in a split-second, Daniel’s tongue is exchanged for two of his fingers, your cunt thoroughly soaked with a mix of your wetness and his spit, and the stretch is mild, more of a welcomed soreness than pain. Daniel’s eyes open to watch your face closely, you’re too busy moaning to verbally assure him to continue, but he understands (the continuous desperate roll of your hips against his grasp is a helpful clue). 

He massages his fingers into you rapidly, brushing along the sensitive wall along the top of your cunt—and it dawns on you very quickly that you are going to cum. He must see the realization wash over your face, or through the signs of your body, but he avoids your g-spot to scissor his fingers inside of you to stretch you out, a third joining the rest when you huff down at him angrily. The new stretch quiets you, loud whines and moans hushed for a moment as you savor the ache. Yet, you quickly hunger for more, unapproving of the sudden gentleness Daniel exhibits.

“Danny, please,” you cry, “C’mon—fuck me, already. ‘m gonna cum.”

He pulls his fingers from the grasp of your vagina and manhandles you onto your front, stomach flat against the bed. With firm hands, he pulls your hips upwards, one hand sliding down your back to deepen the arch and push your ass further out. The insecurity and shyness you had earlier have dissipated; you’d like to be fucked, now. You spread your knees wider and rock back even more.

“Fuck,” Daniel croaks out, and he rushes to grab a condom from the nightstand. You’re sure he’s relatively quick about the entire ordeal; of losing his pants, grabbing the condom, and rolling it on himself, but it feels like ages, and you can’t help but huff out angrily. Thankfully, you feel his left hand come back to rest on your ass and feel the head of his cock tap along your cunt. 

Your hole parts for him prettily and Daniel sinks in smoothly, not stopping until your ass meets his hips. You whine softly, the ache of him finding a home within you will never lose its luster. Daniel shudders behind you, the grip of his hand on your ass shaking—his breathing heavy as it echoes around the room. 

“Fuck,” Daniel moans again, “Love your cunt, pretty girl. Hot, wet, and tight,” he falls forward, and nuzzles into the hair at the nape of your neck, before pressing a kiss at the back of your neck, and rising again, “‘s so good…I-I can’t find the words right now.”

You giggle softly into the bed and Daniel takes the green light when you press back against him. He begins to thrust into you, hard enough to punch the breath out of your lungs. He’s never fucked you this forcefully before; his motions are erratic, yet somehow he’s nailing the spot inside of you with every other pass of his hips. The sound of your skin meeting manages to be hidden by the screams and moans you manage to release when you find enough air in your lungs. Daniel’s other hand wraps around your front and presses down on your pelvis, tightening your inner walls. And, your vision whites out.

Your legs give out and you feel yourself slouch into the mattress, but Daniel is quick to hold your hips up for you and continues to rail into you, not allowing you any respite. You can hear yourself babbling, but you can’t make out what you’re saying. The heat of Daniel’s chest radiates over your back and you feel his breath wash over your spine, his endearments and praise you hear but can’t understand as the pleasure has blinded your senses. What you can feel, is how his thrusts continue and don’t slow. 

You regain control of your body when he rotates you onto your back, he only pulls out briefly while he grabs a pillow to shove underneath your hips before he falls back inside of you. At this angle, Daniel feels larger than life, knocking against buttons inside of you you’re sure he’s only ever discovered. It’s too much. He fucks into you slowly, the press of his cock slow but strong, the motion pushing you up the bed slightly.

You gasp, moans erupting out of you when you attempt to speak. You manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look at Daniel and see the pleased smile on his face. He moves one hand from your hip to cradle your cheek and swipes a tear that escaped from the corner of your eye away. 

“Oh,” Daniel hushes you softly, “Gone for me already, aren’t you?”

“T-t-oo much,” you stutter, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, “ feels s’good.”

He chuckles quietly, the noise fading into a moan as your cunt clenches around him, “Too much or it feels good, pretty girl? You’re going to have to pick one.”

Daniel’s thrusts get rougher, and he stops pulling out nearly all the way and focuses on digging into you deeper; making sure to drag himself along that place inside you with every thrust. Your scream breaks as soon as it leaves your mouth, the unyielding stimulation feels white hot. You take a shaky hand and drag it down Daniel’s chest, from his tattoos to his abdomen, and push against him while simultaneously trying to raise your hips away from his.

“No, baby,” Daniel coos down at you, knocking your hand away from his abs, and continuing to press inside of you, pulling your hips down, “Don’t run from me. Take it. You know what to say if it’s too much for you.”

You do know what to say. But, the knot inside your tummy starts tightening again, and the overwhelming amount of pleasure isn’t too much. You can take it. Daniel rocks down to kiss you, but you’re too out of it to exactly figure out how to make your lips work, and his eyes shine. He moves to bite at your neck, you feel him speaking against your skin and it takes a few listens to realize he saying, “I love you,” over and over again. His thrusts get choppier and you know he’s close when his hand slips down to play with your clit. This orgasm feels different than the first. It feels like it burns your nerve endings with just how powerfully pleasurable it is. You can vaguely feel Daniel collapse against you as he rides out his climax, but you’re more concerned with the absolute ecstasy you find yourself floating in.

You blink a few times and you fail to adequately process what’s going on around you. You feel Daniel pull out of you, rubbing soothingly along your hips and thighs as he massages any soreness away. You can’t make out his words, but they sound warm and loving making you feel light and fluffy. You don’t recall him moving from the bed, but he suddenly has a warm rag pressed against your inner thighs to clean you up, and your ruined panties are gone. When he tries to wipe against your cunt, you slam your legs shut, jerking away from him. He doesn’t force your legs back open, but he eventually manages to clean up enough of your wetness that he’s comfortable to wait until you’re clear-minded. 

Daniel pulls you onto his lap and continues murmuring words of affection into the air, you feel them vibrate through his chest. You begin to rise out of whatever state you were in and shift in his lap, “Danny,” you try to speak, but your voice cracks roughly. He’s quick to grab a bottle of water on the nightstand and opens it for you, helping you drink as your arms are still too shaky. 

“When did you grab the water?” you question softly, you down nearly the entire bottle, and move to snuggle back into his chest, bringing your shaky hand up to trace his tattoos. 

“You don’t remember?” Daniel questions calmly, watching as you shake your head in dissent, “I think you were a little out of it after that orgasm. You melted into the bed—I couldn’t get you to say anything.”

“Oh,” you offer, looking up at him to read his face. You find nothing but love, so you figure it can’t be a bad thing.

“Do you know what subspace is?”

“No?”

Daniel nods understandingly and changes the subject, “I got this piece of cake for you earlier at the store. Can you eat it for me now and drink a little more water, baby? I’ll put on that crime show you like too.”

You agree to eat and drink as long as Daniel does too. Your hand shakes as you try to bring the fork to your mouth so you let Daniel feed you, he seems more than happy to do it for you. You kind of like it anyway, him taking care of you. You feel like your normal self halfway through the second episode of the show playing on the TV. You slide off of Daniel’s lap to sit beside him and focus on the show, pulling the blanket up to cover your legs, the plot of the show finally being processed by your brain.

“I’m going to go grab something from the living room, okay?” Daniel checks in on you, waiting for you to answer affirmatively, “Finish up that cake for me, love.”

You hum, grabbing the container from him and continuing to munch along as Daniel does what he needs to. He reenters the room with one of the boxes you had packed away. Daniel doesn’t look at you, he just opens up the box and starts putting all your belongings back to where they used to be. He pulls one of your heavier sweaters out of the box and moves to hang it up in the closet.

“No,” you say, voice scratchy. You watch Daniel turn to face you slowly like he thinks you’re going to tell him that you’re still leaving, 

“That sweater doesn’t belong in the closet. It gets folded and placed in the bottom row of the dresser.”

Daniel sighs relieved and smiles at you, “Okay. What about this one too, where does that go?”

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© httpsserene 2023

[theroyalyandere]

About the yan!fisherman. What about a cute little siren darling that’s too colorful and loud for their own good, only to get ensnared by a angry deep sea fisherman captain. Who only promises to let them go if he can have a wish in return. (Old mermaid tales say mermaids could grant wishes to those who save them or return their hair comb) And darlings like, I wouldn’t need saving if you’d let me go. I’m not granting you a wish just because you threaten me. ( like pirates of the Caribbean, they’re hard to crack) so the fisherman captain keeps his darling on his ship in a converted tank and kills off the rest of the crew. Eventually wearing away the mermaid darlings resolve till they say yes. And the captain had been thinking about wishing the mermaid to be human but knows those tales never end well. Either his prize runs back to the sea, or one of them dies before the other due to a shortened mortal life. Which doesn’t appeal because he hates land and wants to be out at sea which he can’t if he’s constantly making sure they don’t leave him. And he wants to be with them for eternity, regardless of darling’s wishes.

So he kills two birds with one stone and wishes “for my heart’s desire”. Only the wish is twisted by his obsession, unbeknownst to darling. But they still grant it because they believe his one true desire is greed like most humans… which they’re not wrong. So he becomes a huge terrifying shark merman, or maybe a cecalia, or giant sea snake naga.

And now you’ve got a sea monster that hates humans and his shiny little siren that he can make scream and sing others to their death.

… or what about a reverse harem of deep sea fishermen turned into sea monsters to protect their little darling by one tainted wish. Darling grants the captain’s wish and it “condemns” the small boat like Davy Jones. So now mermaid darling has more to outswim.

oh my god??? I can't describe how genius you are anon! mermaid darling and her yan!fisherman turned into sea monster?!!! I'm going to combine both of the ideas and make a sea monster harem instead becauseeeeeeeeee 😮‍💨🤭 I only know a little about pirates of the Caribbean so please forgive me with the inaccuracies and I'm sorry if this is pretty short, I can continue this and turn this into a series if you like!

note: mermaid!darling is referred to as she/her please don't read if you don't feel comfortable thank you!

Warnings: yandere, dark content, gore/body horror, kidnapping, prey/hunter dynamics, death threats, manipulation

yan!sea monster harem x mermaid!darling/reader

As a mermaid, you've heard from your sisters that some of those like you were captured from those above.

You did not exactly expect to be captured by one of them, especially them.

You blame your colorful tail for attracting too much attention, you managed to throw everyone who went after you so far and your sisters think you're truly lucky but this time you ran out of luck.

Not only are you aware of the bounty set upon your head, you are also believed to be the most powerful of all mermaids which they aren't wrong about. However you have not granted any humans a wish yet. As you believe them to be the most vile of beings.

They are too brutish and rude and cruel. You did not like them one bit.

As soon as you got caught into their net you did not hesitate to flail around as an attempt to set yourself free. You snarled at everyone showing your viscious at the pesky humans.

Your sharp claws tear out through the net and smack everything with your tail. Unfortunately you got stopped by the captain.

His tall, menacing frame looming over you like a boulder with a grumpy face. He shows no reaction at your defensive state and it only scares you more than the other way around.

He corners you and kneels down to your level, he gave you an offer.

The captain will only let you go once you grant a wish of his however in your fury you instead jumped into him and pinned him down, snarling as you try to choke him.

His crew surrounds you each with a weapon in their hand, threatening to kill you unless you let go.

You kept being defiant until one of them got to restrain you setting your victim free.

The poor crew mate groans as he tries to not let you go.

The captain ordered for you to be hidden in the ship until they figure out how to break you.

So you get hidden in a cabin into a tank filled with water allowing you to live above the sea.

As long as they keep you, you refuse to agree to their conditions. Their offers being returned with a glare or an attack from you.

Until, one of the younger crew got closer to you. Watching and observing how you interact with the young one.

They all secretly watch as you the young crew mate won you over with their smiles and gentle demeanor, granting them the opportunity to see another side of yourself.

Your heart begins to soften and sing a song for the youngster.

The other crew told this to the captain and watched with his own eyes the scene unfolding. He urges the crew mate to get closer to you.

One by one they start to get obsessed with you. The crew either fight on who's turn to give you some food to eat or they wrestle among each other who gets to hear you sing to them first.

It only got worse when the captain got involved, one night he caught himself listening to your melodies and felt something he had never experienced before.

He eventually chased for this feeling and he knew that only you can satisfy him and his dark desires.

So his desire further strayed away from what he wanted and darker as his desires were focused on you.

At one point his impatience got into him and barged into the cabin you're at and threatens to kill the crew mate you grew fond of, your eyes pool with pearls and panic present on your face as you try to grab onto him.

He tells you that he will certainly finish the crew mate if you don't agree immediately, he asks you to grant his wish and you ask him what it is. He replies..

"for my heart's desire"

You assume it has something to do with wealth and power but oh you were wrong.

You watch as the captain slowly morphs into a sea monster. The scene is so grotesque that you tried to shield yourself away from the scene.

Outside the cabin, the whole crew starts to fall ill and scream in pain as their bodies start to turn different. Their skin turning into scales or being covered by corals and such.

Even the young crew mate you adored was not spared from the awful transformation. As the wish manifests into reality so does a storm, overturning the ship upside down as an enormous wave swallows the ship whole.

The ship gets wrecked and you try to escape into the ocean and swim away only to get caught by a powerful force wrapped around you and you turn to face it.

Only a horrifying sight greets you as the crew were turned into predatory monsters that will sure haunt all over the seas.

The one keeping you captive is the captain, he became an enormous sea monster that towers over you. With long tentacles and his eyes glowing with evil.

His tentacles engulf your whole being as you struggle to get out of his hold, blocking you away from the rest of the world.

[starcurtain]

Interpreting Aventurine's Situation

(HSR 2.1 spoilers, watch out!) I think one of my favorite things to come out of Penacony is that the plot has left us with two completely opposite but equally valid interpretations of Aventurine's character. Is he a chosen child or just a "lucky" dog? The story leaves the door wide open for both possibilities.

Under a read more for space:

One Interpretation: Unfortunately for Him, Aventurine is Actually Blessed by an Aeon

If you work from the assumption that the Avgin mythology is correct, and Gaiathra Triclops is actually real (possibly a minor aeon of an unknown path or Ena, if you're on that train), then it's entirely possible, in game, that Aventurine has been blessed by a goddess to the point that he functionally cannot lose any gamble he makes. The odds are, literally, ever in his favor. In this interpretation, it doesn't matter how many gambles he takes with his life as the chip because he will always succeed. Despite how risky his behavior looks to everyone else, he's actually been perfectly safe all along.

But this is especially tragic because it means that, despite his mother's and sister's belief that his blessing will help everyone in their tribe, Aventurine's blessing has only ever extended to himself. He's not an omen of good fortune for his people. His luck was never going to protect his parents, sister, or friends. The goddess of the Avgin chose just one person and left the rest of her people to die.

This is where Aventurine's doubts stem from. He asks repeatedly: If the goddess can bless people, then why is life so miserable for the Avgin? Why do they have to live in pain, suffering, fear, and abject poverty if she could make them lucky enough to thrive? Why do people live if it's just going to be horrible?

(To be honest, I don't think this is out of line for the behavior we've seen of aeons so far. Even with aeons like Yaoshi, described as gentle and benevolent, with no intention to cause harm, their gifts often create horror in the human world.)

Aventurine's hands still tremble when he bets. He doesn't really believe he's blessed and still expects his own downfall at every turn--but it's never going to come because he is one of the few human beings in the entire universe with the direct favor of an aeon. Even Ratio, a skeptical, evidence-based genius, seems to think this might be the case.

(Choosing the Chinese because the text is a little clearer than the English, but basically: "This guy always has a way of dragging himself up out of the abyss, which can't be explained by just 'good luck.' Everyone is waiting to see him fail... Maybe even he's waiting too. But as time passed, I couldn't help but wonder: Will that day really come?")

This means Aventurine has lived a life of fear and uncertainty for nothing. He's spent his entire life awaiting a failure and painful death that will never come. He can't recognize the love of his own goddess nor trust in the faith of his own family.

The central question of this interpretation becomes "What does it mean for a single human to be favored by an aeon?" Can Aventurine really be called lucky after losing every single thing that has meaning in his life--all because an aeon chose him and only him? Should that be called a blessing or a curse?

The Opposite Interpretation: Aventurine Isn't Lucky At All, He's Just Skilled

On the other hand, the story leaves the door open to interpret Aventurine's situation in the complete opposite manner too. If, as the IPC seems to think, Gaiathra Triclops isn't real and Aventurine isn't blessed at all, then that means every single risk Aventurine has taken has actually been life-threatening--and that every single achievement he's reached has been by his own merits alone.

If Gaiathra's blessing isn't real, then Aventurine's life becomes one long self-run psyop: Everyone tells him he's blessed, he's lucky, he's favored--so young Kakavasha starts gambling early. Banking on this idea that he's favored, that he's chosen, he starts paying attention, he learns the tricks of the trade, figures out how to slip cards up his sleeves, how to word things just right so people will take his bait--he practices, practices, practices, until he can spot winning odds a mile away, until he can predict every possible outcome, until he's seen it all before.

In this situation, every single gamble he's ever made or will make carries a very, very real risk of failure--but Aventurine continues to succeed because he's just that quick-witted, just that aware, just that good at reading people. (He's been doing it for so much longer than everyone else he meets, after all.) He is the gambler extraordinaire, the archetypal charming rogue who can squirm his way out of any tight spot he gets into, time and time again.

He fears every gamble he makes because he has good reason to--there's literally never any guarantee that he will succeed, and he's constantly just flipping a coin to see what outcome he'll get. His personal skill and quick wit continue to turn things in his favor, but it's inevitable that one day he'll meet a situation that outwits him, a gamble where only a supernatural force could have saved him. And if you take this second interpretation, Gaiathra isn't real, so there won't be one.

This story choice would be interesting because it implies a greater degree of responsibility for everything that happens. If it's Aventurine's own quick wit and skill that continually save him, shouldn't he be able to help others with that skill? Shouldn't he have been able to help himself? How was he able to save himself from death but not from slavery? If it was skill, not luck, all along, then who do you blame for all the misery he still experienced?

This interpretation leads to greater questions of self-doubt and anxiety: Is it actual skill or just sheer dumb luck? Does Aventurine have what it takes mentally, psychologically, emotionally, and even physically to always come out on top by his own merits, or is he just the benefit of the wheel of fortune--statistically speaking, a one in a million chance still has to come through for that one, right? And when it all comes crumbling down eventually, will he have only himself to blame?

A Life of Uncertainty

The story doesn't actually give us any firm indication whether Gaiathra is real or not, or--even if she is real--if Aventurine is actually genuinely blessed. We just don't know, as players.

And Aventurine doesn't know either.

His faith in the goddess of the Avgin is shaky. He seems to want to believe and hold on to his people's mythology, but he has valid doubts that a goddess would choose to bless one person while leaving everyone else to suffer.

Is he the chosen of an aeon? And if he isn't chosen, then what meaning does any of it have? Is he just unbelievably skilled? Has he merely been lucky up to now? When will this blessing or luck or skill finally fail him?

Aventurine's most defining character trait is the extreme uncertainty that has plagued his whole life. What is true? What should he believe? Is he blessed or cursed? Does he have the talent to back up his massive boasts? Should others put any faith in him--should he put any faith in himself? Should he cling to his people's beliefs or reject the goddess that left him the sole survivor of a cultural extinction?

He can't trust anything. He can't trust his family's faith; he can't trust that he's actually a "chosen one" (because how could he chosen and his family be left to die?). He can't even trust that he's lucky because maybe it was just the years of suffering practice he put in. Then again, he can't trust in his own skill because maybe he's just blessed?

Which is it? Which is it? Which is it?

Nothing is certain. Nothing can be taken for granted. Nothing can be proven empirically true or false. There are no guarantees for Aventurine.

Every single thing in his life is a gamble, and none of that is his fault.

What an amazing character. What a great story. Thank you for the treat, Hoyo!

[crypticsketchpad]

HEY FOLKS DIDJA MISS ME. anyways here’s something I’ve been workin on for the past few weeks, some actual reference pics for the folks from these posts! I think it’s time they got a proper ref and lore post (it’s been, what, over a year since I made them?), soooooo :] buckle up. individual pics + bios under the cut; content warning for death, gore/body horror, unethical science and/or medical malpractice, I guess some minor mentions of self harm and emotional abuse… let’s just say they’ve been through a lot

CHIMERA

they/it - 23’5 - ~400 y/o - epic wubbox..?

Chimera can only be described as a true monstrosity among monsterkind. Its three components were unfortunately torn apart in an interdimensional travel accident, and in a desperate attempt to save them, their sibling Matrix decided to combine the three into one semi-intact body. Whether or not their efforts were successful is debatable; Chimera is highly physically unstable, and isn’t exactly all there mentally. It’s usually kept away from the eyes of the public, housed in the bowels of the Ethereal Island castle.

Resents Matrix for bringing them back, as they use this fact to control them. They insist that Chimera owes them their lives, and that they should be grateful, but constantly mistreats and neglects them.

Most of its original mechanical parts were damaged in the incident, so their body’s construction is supplemented by the body parts of other ethereal monsters.

EEKTO

The “primary” head, Eekto has the most control over Chimera’s body. It’s the only one who can see and hear clearly (though not by much…), so it serves as the collective’s eyes and mouth. Associated with the element of plasma, it now constantly leaks plasmic goop from its mouth, eyes, and neck joints, making it hard to speak without choking on its own saliva. The flame that engulfs its eyes grants Eekto enhanced vision in the dark, and allows it to detect things that aren’t visible to the average monster. In life, it was the oldest of the five siblings.

NOCK

The second most active head, what Nock lacks in hearing and sight it makes up for in chattiness. It’s the main mouth of the body, consuming large amounts of food at once in order to sustain all three of them. While usually relying on Eekto to be its eyes, it can also “see” by using its long, snake-like tongue to smell its surroundings, and is capable of picking up minor sound vibrations with the membranes of its Grumpyre wing “ears”. Nock’s demeanor is almost always disturbingly cheerful, and it seems to be in blissful denial of its current situation. It’s always happy to strike up a conversation with whatever monster happens to stumble upon them while lost in the castle- unless it’s Matrix, of course.

FRAKTAL

Fraktal, associated with the element of Crystal, was the worst fatality of the trio. Its head is basically all that remains of its original body, but even so, it’s in very bad shape. Frozen in a state of decay, it’s become a host to many crystalline growths that have covered its mangled face and “neck”. It is completely unresponsive to outside stimuli, and only ever moves when one of its other two siblings decides to move their shared body’s tail. The other two, however, act as if it is still alive somehow, treating and addressing it as such. Sometimes, though, one of the other heads may sense a signal from their tail; a faint, abstract thought that is not their own.

MATRIX

they/them - 11’1” - 431 y/o - rare wubbox

A self-proclaimed “genius” scientist, Matrix loves nothing more than to upgrade themself and others through body modification. Creating questionable prosthetics from miscellaneous materials, they kidnap and experiment on monsters against their will, leaving them mutilated at best, and in some cases, whatever unfortunate victim enters their lab never comes out. Matrix’s mission is to “improve” the lives of the Ethereal monsters, who they’ve proclaimed themself the leader of. They see other monsters as nothing more than test subjects who should be happy for the help they’re providing, falsely believing that their work will benefit monsterkind as a whole, and that anyone who opposes is simply ungrateful.

The first rare wubbox to ever exist, Matrix used their supernatural ability to create interdimensional rifts to access the human world. Inspired by what they saw, they rebuilt every part of themself in order to reflect that technological influence. Pleased by their transformation, they created copies of themself, which they distributed across the monster world; as such, nearly every rare wubbox is a clone of Matrix, with a few exceptions.

Using their aforementioned interdimensional abilities, they’ve shut off Ethereal Island from the rest of the monster world, preventing anyone other than themself from entering or leaving. Any Ethereal monsters who live on the Natural Islands are descended from ones who left their home island before Matrix and co’s arrival.

They were the one who rebuilt Chimera, and the perceived success of this operation is what inspired them to experiment on other monsters in an attempt to make them better than they were before. They also use this fact to keep Chimera under control, constantly reminding them that they literally owe them their lives.

Their extra set of tail-arms were assembled from parts leftover from Chimera’s creation. These arms are very flexible, and can extend and retract slightly, though they are not as strong as one may think. (Which means that unfortunately, Matrix can’t do the Doc Ock arm walk thingy.)

While Chimera’s components are affiliated with three of the Ethereal elements, Matrix is affiliated with the Mech element, and was taught the basics of engineering by one of their creators, a Vhamp named Khord. In the present day, they find Mech-element monsters the ideal subject to use for their projects.

ZYPHUR

it/its - 12’3” - 427 y/o - common wubbox

Scarred and damaged- not just physically but mentally- by the horrors it’s had to participate in, Zyphur is Matrix’s unwilling lab assistant. Serving as the brawn to its sibling’s brains, its main role is to gather subjects for Matrix to use in their experiments; it’s easily large and powerful enough to capture and restrain the other Ethereal monsters, but that doesn’t make the process any easier for all involved. Zyphur resents its job, and feels terrible forcing its captives to participate in the twisted whims of its older sibling, but it really doesn’t have a choice. It depends on them for food, shelter, and care, and feels obligated to help them due to familial ties. Despite this, Matrix constantly berates, mistreats, and manipulates it, keeping it as their own little lackey for whatever tasks they need done.

It was forced to help gather Chimera’s body parts immediately after the accident, and assisted Matrix in reassembling them. It was in a state of shock the entire time, still reeling from its own injuries, and begging its one remaining sibling for some semblance of comfort, which it never received. Before the accident, Matrix was often dismissive but still kind towards Zyphur, but this soon changed to pure disdain and superiority towards it in the aftermath.

Ended up the least scathed after the accident, with its most major injury being a severe head wound, practically ripping half its face apart. Despite Matrix’s efforts to repair it, this wound never healed properly, leaving a massive scar on one side of its mouth.

Associated with the Poison element, which is clearly visible in its eyes. Its major bodily fluids (notably tears, blood, and saliva) are tinted a vivid green and are somewhat acidic, leaving marks on whatever they touch. They are also toxic to other monsters and may cause skin damage or poisoning when exposed to them. In theory, Zyphur is capable of spitting jets of poison saliva as a defense mechanism, but tends to just let it passively drip out of its mouth.

Due to the extreme neglect, trauma, and isolation it’s had to endure, Zyphur is somewhat developmentally stunted, and behaves much younger than it is. When the Cataclysm and subsequent accident happened, it was mentally around 15 years old, and hasn’t emotionally progressed much since.

Most of the time, when its parts haven’t been repaired for a while, the edges of its gauntlet pieces are broken, with pieces of the prongs on the end often missing. This damage is self inflicted, fueled by Zyphur’s guilt towards the pain others have suffered because of it. It feels that Chimera’s components didn’t deserve to undergo such a horrible fate, and that it should have taken their place instead. Matrix simply sees this damage as the result of clumsiness, and often scolds it because of this.

Refuses to interact with Chimera- or any other monster, really- whenever it can help it; the feelings of guilt it holds about their situations are too painful to bear.

Very malnourished, and doesn’t get to eat real food very often. Its main diet consists of Matrix’s leftovers and whatever mutilated, “unusable” monster parts remain after their experiments.

ALVA

it/its - 13’5” - 433 y/o - common wubbox

A brilliant (albeit shut-in) scientist, Alva is the creator of Wublin Island and its denizens. When not looking after its “children” (the Wublins), it spends most of its time tinkering and experimenting with new ways to put the knowledge gained from its previous projects to good use. Between these two tasks, it’s almost always exhausted, and tends to overwork itself, refusing to sleep for days and putting its work and the needs of the Wublins before its own well-being. Despite this behavior, Alva is mostly satisfied with the life it’s built for itself.

One of the oldest living wubboxes from the Dawn of Fire, and one of the first to be created; it lived through the Cataclysm but doesn’t like to talk about its experience very much.

VERY bad at caring for itself in general; it doesn’t replace its parts as often as it should, causing itself chronic pain and fatigue. Alva tries to remedy this by occasionally using a shoddy cane it made for itself, but doesn’t do so often, insisting it’s fine- often while visibly having difficulty standing and walking.

Adores the Wublins and would do anything for them; though it’s quite exhausting caring for them all, it loves them very much, and tries its best to keep them happy. This also involves it hiding any sort of negative emotions or pain it feels in front of them, as it doesn’t want its children to worry about it.

Inherited the gift of the spark of life from its creator, a Galvana named Ivolta, who was the original inventor of the wubbox.

Typically doesn’t interact with the outside world much, but periodically allows airships from other islands to bring it supplies and monster eggs. It doesn’t like to leave the island, but may do so on rare occasions if its expertise is needed- namely, it was recently contacted by a team of monsters who want to use its statue-waking tech to reawaken the newly discovered Celestials.

Before the fall of Starhenge, Alva was Matrix’s best friend; the two were very close, bonding over their similar interests in robotics and bioengineering, and often collaborated on projects. However, after seeing how drastically different they are now and how harmful their “work” has become, it is disgusted by them, refusing to speak to them, despite their constant, oblivious attempts to befriend it again.

——————————————————

PHEW that was a lot haha, anyways, if anyone has any questions about these guys, feel free to ask in the replies or my askbox! (i’ll try and respond in a timely manner lmao) been working on this storyline for a while now and I can definitely expand on some of these things if anyone’s interested :]

[star-girl-05]

Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

There are many ways to describe THE Sherlock Holmes: Eccentric, Determined, Odd, Genius. Those unfortunate enough to meet him in person would describe him as childish. It’s quite amusing to think that someone as smart as Sherlock would be so childish. He throws tantrums and pouts when he doesn’t get his way. Even when he’s solving a case, he’s giddy like his mommy brought him home a toy. So it should be no surprise he acts childish when he’s in love. 

Of course he doesn’t tell you about his new found feelings for you. No, he performs little experiments on you. Trying to inquire if you could share his feelings. He starts off slowly not wanting to alert you. He begins by increasing his physical contact with you. Just a simple brushing of knuckles when passing each other. Or a gentle hand on your back. Light innocent touches, that's all he dares to do. You don’t seem to mind which gives him confidence to continue testing the relationship between you too. 

He moves on from light touches to soft words. He’s not bold enough to openly flirt with you. That's not his style but he does tease you in his own way. He’ll whisper his explanations in your ear letting his lips graze your ear ever so lightly. Giving him the out if you should bring it up that it was accidental. He’ll give you compliments in the form of observations. ‘That colour blue suits you’, there simple barely there compliments but he still notes the reddish colour to come to your face at them. 

So far it seems you share Sherlock's feelings, but he needs something more concrete if he’s going to confess. So tonight he’s going to be more bold. Johns out with *insert girls name* Sherlock and you will have the flat completely to yourselves. Giving him the perfect atmosphere to collect the last bit of data he needs to know before he reveals his feelings. He needs your pulse, he’s been trying to get it the past week but you always evade him. Moving at just the right moment preventing him from gathering this crucial data. Tonight though he’s determined to get it. 

You have a bright smile on your face when you enter the flat holding a bag of take out. If you're being honest you find yourself nervous to be alone with Sherlock in this manner. Of course you’ve spent time alone with him before, though he was always working on a case. This was different, this time his focus would be on you. It is intimidating to have his undivided attention. Honestly you were so surprised when Sherlock texted you to come over. The simple short text of ‘John’s out come over’ It didn’t leave room for you to say no not that you would have. The thought of declining never even crossed your mind. As soon as you got his message you were responding, at first you thought he had a case. Though with a simple text he refuted the idea texting you that he was just inviting you over. 

After staring at the text for an absorbent amount of time you finally get ready. Picking up takeout on your way and that's where you are now. Sitting next to Sherlock watching some random tv program while eating your takeout. You’re the first to break the silence, “Is everything alright Sherlock?” You're trying not to ruin the evening but you can’t help but be curious as to what brought on this on. He’s been acting differently all week. It was subtle changes at least in the beginning.

Yesterday when the two of you were walking to the lab he grabbed your hand. Fully interlocking his fingers with you. He didn’t even acknowledge it so neither did you just letting him lead you to the lab. 

“Do you think I invited you over because something was wrong?” your face told him his answer. “John was out so I thought we could spend time together” you let out a soft ‘oh’. Not that Sherlock was listening, no he was focusing on your body language. Watching closely at the blush forming on your cheeks. Time to get his last few points of data. 

He feels more confident, especially when he moves closer to you and your pupils enlarge. Your voice is background noise to Sherlock, he focused on your pulse. That's beating rapidly under his finger tips. Experiment complete. 

He cuts you off mid-ramble placing a kiss against your soft lips. He smirks against your lips when he feels your pulse pick up. When he pulls away your eyes are still closed. “What- you just kissed me” your voice is shaky. 

“Yes and I want to do it again, if that’s okay?” While Sherlock was confident in his deducing skills. He was still uneasy about romantical advances.

“Please” you're already tangling your hand in his hair, pulling him back to you. 

Sherlock Holmes can be described as many things: Eccentric, Determined, Odd, Genius, and an amazing Kisser.

[persimmonsimmer]

If there was one thing Nadya had learned over the years, it was that Carl knew how to get things done. Still, the plan he'd just described sounded too good to be true. Especially considering that it all hinged on the supposed expertise of a young woman, this Sam, who looked by all rights like she ought to be enrolled in one of Hannah Chen’s classes right alongside her own Farah and Mariam.

She spoke carefully.

Nadya: "You know building an electrical grid has been a high priority of mine. It would put us on the path to becoming a real city. Maybe the first to be built since Before. But, realistically, I didn't think we'd have the funds, or the expertise, to start working on one for . . . well, for decades. I’m still not sure we do."

Carl: "Which is where Sam comes in. It won’t be cheap, no, but with her guidance I’m confident we can do it without getting bogged down with mistakes and unexpected costs, and that’s always where the costs of a project really start to add up.”

Nadya scrutinized the woman seated next to Carl. She'd never known Carl to be wrong when he vouched for someone's skill. But she was so young.

Nadya: "You understand, everything would be riding on this project's success. It would have to be completed before the election after this one. And completed successfully." She turned to address Sam directly. "Are you sure you'd know what you were doing?"

Sam: "Yes, ma'am."

Nadya: "Even though, as you admitted earlier, you've never created anything on a scale anywhere close to this."

Sam: "Like I said, I've been messing around with wires and batteries since I was barely a kid. I've read every book on infrastructure and physics and chemistry and electrical engineering I could get my hands on.

"But each of my experiments required weeks of salvaging for the materials, so it’s true there was only so much I could do. It's been my dream to help bring electricity back to the world ever since I can remember, but I never thought I'd have the resources to do it. Not until Carl asked if I'd be willing to help you. I can do this. I swear."

Carl: "Sam here is a certifiable genius, I'm telling you. I've seen some of the things she's created from practically nothing. Marvelous contraptions. With her at the helm of this project, you and I both can rest easy."

Nadya: "I am tempted. But there's also the matter of the clinic I was hoping to build. We might be able to muster the funds for a grid if I raise taxes, but we certainly won’t have the resources to build both. The clinic would have to be delayed indefinitely. That would be very unfortunate."

Carl: “A clinic would be a real boon to the town, to be sure. But then again, how much more will Meda or anyone else be able to accomplish in a clinic until we’ve got electricity in place? I think the priority here's clear."

Nadya: “Still, some of the townspeople will be angry. They'll say I've gone back on my word.”

Carl: “Listen, Nadya.” Instead of wearing his usual wide smile, he was now serious, still-faced. “I know it’s a political risk. But it’s worth it, isn’t it?”

Nadya: “Maybe . . . If we could just delay the start, a few years at most—”

Carl: “Much as I hate to put the screws to you, Nadya, I’m afraid Sam here, at least, needs an answer. She’s come all this way on my assurance there’d be a job for her at the end of the road, and, well, if that’s not the case, she has a family to get back to.”

Meaning we’ll lose our chance at this supposed wunderkind’s help forever, I suppose, Nadya thought sourly.

Nadya: “You have family back at home, Sam?” If only Carl would stop blathering at her, give her a few minutes to figure out how to swing this to her best advantage. “And where did you say home is, again?”

Sam’s eyes darted toward Carl.

Sam: “A little sister. And it’s so small, it doesn’t even have a name. We hardly ever even saw any traders, except for Carl.”

Nadya: “It must be hard to leave home behind, nevertheless.” She’d hardly registered Sam’s words. “Carl, you know I want this for Panorama. I do. Perhaps . . . if you could sweeten the deal for me . . . ?"

Carl: "What did you have in mind?"

He knew she was hooked. As suddenly as it had vanished, his usual smile had reappeared.

Nadya: "Just a little something for your crew to work on while this project is still in the planning stages. Something my fellow Panoramans can get some use from sooner rather than later."

It didn't take Nadya long to explain what she had in mind, and when she finished, Carl's smile was even wider than before.

Carl: "Is that all? Piece of cake. It'll be done before the winter's out."

Nadya: "Then you've got a deal, Worth."

Decisiveness. That’s what made her a leader.

Nadya: “Just tell me one thing. Where exactly do you find so many talented people? Your knack for it is almost uncanny."

Carl: "Ah-ah, Nadya. I can't go giving away all my secrets. Gotta leave you some reason to keep me around."

He beamed.

[atundratoadstool]

I know you've listed the character ages already, but what about physical descriptions? I remember Van Helsing being described as having red hair and blue eyes and I know Lucy's a blonde, but that's it.

Stoker is both frequently very spartan in his physical descriptions of characters and obsessively interested in detailing their facial features owing to his zealous belief in the thoroughly racist science of physiognomy. Here's a breakdown of what we know in the text plus some notes on how these features possibly operate in relation to Stoker's views, experiences, and research:

[CW: Spoilers and a fair number of mentions of Stoker's inescapable racism/antisemitism under the cut.]

Jonathan Harker: Jonathan is barely described but in possession of hair that turns white over the course of the novel. He possibly has a beard or a lot of stubble following the unfortunate yeeting of his shaving mirror. Like many of Bram Stoker's hunky lawyer protagonists, he's more often describing characters than being described by them.

Mina Harker: She is described by Seward as "attractive," "sweet-faced," and "dainty looking." She also has eyes that blaze like "pole stars," which is a very common description in Stoker's greater body of work (See: Stephen Norman in The Man and Teuta Vissarion in Lady of the Shroud) and match with his rapturous descriptions of real world actress Geneviève Ward. While it isn't as common a denotation of willfulness and determination as aquiline noses, it's generally used to indicate female characters who are very hardcore and may obtain a gun. Her skin is light enough for the red mark she obtains to be clearly visible upon it, although I will note that Mimi Salton from Lair of the White Worm is both undeniably a Mina 2.0 and mixed race/darker skinned, which might be worth considering in the realm of headcanon given how frequently Stoker just recycles characters and their physical attributes.

Lucy Westerna: She's pretty, and her weight and appearance definitely fluctuates over the course of her illness. Her hair is laid out in "sunny ripples" while she's alive. She becomes a "dark-haired woman" while undead. This frustrates many many critics and commentators. It's been proposed that the "sunny ripples" just refers to the gloss on her dark hair. It's been proposed the blondeness/darkness hair is an indicator of her innate goodness/evilness... like Smurfette (which has--again--some Stoker-typical racist implications). The most obvious Doylist explanation is that Stoker cannot track characters' hair color much as he cannot track all his dates.

Jack Seward: Strong jaw. Nice forehead. Immense lunatic asylum. He's also mentioned as being thin in comparison to Renfield and Lucy thinks he's handsome (although obviously not as desirable as Arthur).

Arthur Holmwood: His hair is curly. He is tall. He is also a hottie, as attested to by Lucy and by Jack (who finds him very manly as he kills his vampire fiancee).

Quincey P. Morris: I haven't recalled or been able to look up any major descriptors. He apparently carries himself like a "moral Viking" (as Jack attests in the midst of commenting on yet another friend's manliness). I went into some detail as to how he reads in terms of race here and how it might mesh with Lucy's comparison of him to Othello.

Abraham Van Helsing: After the Count, he's the most thoroughly described character in terms of physiognomy, and that physiognomy... is more or less the spitting image of Bram Stoker as he describes himself (...you know, Abraham "Bram" Stoker, who has the same first name as this super genius great-at-everything character). He's got sensitive nostrils, big forehead bumps, a nice jaw, a big mouth, a strong build, and red hair. I wrote a comparison between him and Stoker here. I will also note that the forehead bumps are a phrenological feature denoting creativity and that Jonathan remarks that he apparently has eyebrows incompatible with self doubt.

R. M. Renfield: He appears to be swoler than Seward even if his swoleness is to no avail against Dracula.

Dracula: There is a lot to unpack with Dracula. He has an aquiline nose, which is one of the absolutely most significant recurring features in Stoker's greater corpus (See: The Judge from "The Judge's House"; Solomon Mendoza from The Watter's Mou; Don Bernadino from The Mystery of the Sea; Joy Ogilvie from Lady Athlyne; and Edgar Caswall from The Lair of the White Worm), and this trait was shared by his boss and Idol Henry Irving. It undoubtedly has physiongomic significance to Stoker, who seems to use it to denote command and leadership, although it is worth noting that Cesare Lombroso mentions aquiline noses as a feature of murderers and that many critics have pointed out its potential connections to Stoker's antisemitism (and specifically the suspicion regarding Jewish immigrants in the wake of the Jack the Ripper killings). Dracula additionally has a "domed forehead," which can paradoxically be associated in physiognomy with both high intellect and mental feebleness. His sharp teeth are a trait Stoker associates with "a militant instinct" (Lombroso, again, connects them with murderers) and are described in much the same way he describes Alfred Lord Tennyson and Sir Richard Burton's teeth, although he took notes from Sabine Baring-Gould's Book of Were-wolves in which sharp teeth are a werewolf trait. We also have pretty explicit evidence that Dracula's unibrow, pointy nails, and hairy palms are also from Baring-Gould. Overall, Dracula seems to be a real hodgepodge of physiognomic traits that seem to haunt Stoker's work, racist criminological theory, and actual folklore.

[penguinsravioli]

Crush Confessions

❝⁺ ₊ ✦⋆ ｡ ˚chapter 4❝⁺ ₊ ✦⋆ ｡ ˚ Anthony Vaughn x Reader

The party was a bit of a crash, but I guess that’s fine. Unfortunately for me I couldn’t find my ride. Ca$h was gone. 

And mysteriously, so was Dusty’s dads car. I sigh, him and this eshay bullshit. He’s told me that he feels like he’s “entitled” to continue to hangout with them. Even if Chook is an asshole, he’s basically one root income. Undoubtedly so though, a reckless and illegal root. I’m sat on the stairs of Dusty’s front porch, fiddling with my long skirt, swaying it back n’ forth. “I love this goth mother look you have going for you” I look toward Missy. I let out a chuckle, “Thanks Miss, hot, per usual.”

She twirls her hair jokingly, making the both of us giggle a bit. “How are you holding up?” Here it goes, the same question about how it’s been at home since the map. “Umm not the best, but it’s alright, I got my trap phone” I pull out the little burner device. “(name)! Look at you being rebellious!” 

“Sweetheart I’ve been pretty rebellious forever. Don’t know how you didn’t see the signs” I shower myself in self praise whilst Missy laughs with her hand over her mouth. “You got a ride home?”  “Yeah” I take back my phone, lying though my teeth so she doesn’t go out of her way for me. “Plus I need the air anyways” I stretch my back in the concrete stairwell. Missy begins to stand, “Alright then (nickname), call me if you need anything alright?” I nod. “Of course” I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t believe me. I know I won’t call her if I need anything. I barely call Ca$h when I need a ride to school. I always end up walking, despite the distance.

I play with my acrylics with a solemn look. Seriously though how am I gonna get home. My house is anything but close. 

“Hey Ladybug” I shout at Ant after he spooks me. “That wasn’t funny!” I whine a bit at his everlasting delight from my fear. “Calm down babes. Just me.” He puts his hands up, slowly lowering them when I roll my eyes at the nonsense. Ant has always looked at me with such a sincerity that I could never find in anyone else. It’s like if I were to disappear he’d notice. It always makes my heart drop but it’s like a familiar nice feeling that I cant describe well if you asked.

So the minute my irises centered to make eye contact with him, and I saw Ant Instantly searching. The feeling came back.

I turn away again, staring in front of me. “I haven’t heard you call me Ladybug since Kindergarten” 

“Thought it should make a comeback,” he slings an arm around my waist pulling me closer towards his body. “Plus it suits you” I chuckle. “How so?”

“Because you’re unique like a ladybug”

“You sure it’s not because you wanted us to be matching like how we used to?”  He smiles cheekily “No, but little me was a genius” I laugh at him and then check the time. It’s getting real late. I doubt my parents are home currently but I should definitely start to head back. “If you don’t mind me asking— can you walk me home” I sneakily shimmy from his grip and rise to my feet in a swift motion. Ants eyes follow me as I stand. “How could I say no?” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“You’re getting really bold these days” I lock his hand with mine, enjoying the warmth he emits.

“I guess you give me a boost in ego” he replies quick whilst we walk. We’ve walked for 30 minutes and have finally made it to my home, and  don’t want him to go.

“Can you stay with me a little longer?” He looks towards me. 

Literally why the fuck did I just say that.

 “Yeah of course. Anything you wan’t” ever since cemetery we’ve gotten even closer despite me trying to build a barrier between us again.

Which sounds odd, but me and him distanced ourselves and our friendship entirely because of the hookup. It had been our first time actually ever doing anything like that. I think that we both felt an insane amount of guilt in shame. We had a talk in middle about how we were gonna make “our parents proud”, for him it was because he was heavily religious in his younger years.  While for me, because my parents had been so controlling and scared me into a corner.  It was until that party that me and Ant had finally really pushed past our promise of attempting to be good children.

The awkwardness afterwards had been mostly conveyed on my part, it was only me that had avoided my feelings for him after holiday. So it’s not surprising that they spilt out after the police crashed cemetery.

—He took out his wallet and pulled out some cash. In hand I had the soda I was craving, while he chose not to get a drink. “Cheers” I ushered to the cashier as we left.  I laid my head on Ants shoulder as I opened my carbonated drink. “Thank you for paying, I forgot my wallet at home” 

“No dramas. You deserve it” I gulp down my drink before answering. “Deserve it for doing what?”

“I dunno, just being yourself.”

“That’s way sweet of you Babes” I nudge him softly. He grins, “Of course, I’m ripper, remember?”—

We snuck in through my unlocked window, my room wasn’t really big but it wasn’t really small either. It was just a bit cluttered because I liked collecting posters, figures, random objects like signs, etc. “Your room has improved since the last time I saw it”

“Thanks Ant” I begin to pick up a few clothes I had threw around while getting ready for the party. “m’course”. I put the clothes in a pile and begin to fold them in a quick manner so I don’t have to deal with them much later 

“I neeeed to go thrifting again sometime, all the thrift stores around here have been so dry though” 

I spark up conversation.

 “You go thrifting? I’ve never tried it” I gasp, “seriously?! You know how many cool graphic tees I find on a regular? They would suit you so well too” I stand up putting the clothes in their respective places. I turn, coming face to face with Anthony.

In shock I scoot back, but he pulls me forward. “Why can’t just take the hint already?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that you know that I like you (name)”He pulled me in by my waist and held me tight, giving me a sense of security. “I don’t know how come you’ve been avoiding me, but it’s been driving me crazy trying to figure you out” 

I suck in a breath. In attempt I try to find the words to reply but they’re stuck in my throat. So I’m just stuck, staring into his desperate eyes like I’m brainless. “Ant, you know I do care for you and—

I hear a car pull up into the driveway. Immediate silence was met from the both of us. I look at the window and back at Ant. “Anthony I will not repeat myself, get under my bed, when they leave the room I need you to sneak out as fast as humanly possible” I whisper yell as I start to undress and put on my night clothes. He starts to slide underneath quickly, holding his breath as I get into bed and pretend that I wasn’t at a party just an hour prior. I quickly turn my beside lamp off and get underneath my covers.

I hear the keys to the front door jiggle and I whisper to Ant “…you be as still as possible” 

“..got it”

I hear their footsteps down the hall slowly inching to my doorway. Then my door swings open. 

“(name)?” I pretend I’m knocked out. I’m a great pretender. They shut the door once they don’t get a response. And walk upstairs to their room.

 I let out a large sigh. I get off my bed quietly and crouch down to look at Ant. “I’d start to leave now” he starts to climb from underneath my bed with a nod of agreement. “Before I do though”

He pulls me in and gives me a quick peck on the lips and winks at me, jumping out my window and landing as silent as possible. Avoiding the cameras just like we did previously. 

When he’s no longer within area I close my window. 

Holding my beating heart in absolute shock. “I dunno why I’m so struck over this when he literally fucked me” I giggle to myself, sneaking to the bathroom so I can do my skincare before bed.

[green-planets]

Sharing some of my thoughts on Cinderella's Castle because I have no one to talk with irl about it (I'm sure most of my points have already been brought up by other people but whatever!) Dark fantasy is my bread and butter so I'm a little disappointed that I had such mixed feelings after my first watch through.

BE WARNED THERE ARE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!

First thing's first, the set, lighting, PUPPETS, and COSTUMES were gorgeous!! The team knocked it out of the park with the look of the show!

Also the twists on the classic Cinderella story were *chef's kiss* The explanations for why no one could remember Ella's face, how the glass slippers worked, and the Stepmother CHOPPING OFF ELLA'S FEET!?! AND SEWING THEM ONTO PUTRICE'S SKIN SUIT SO SHE COULD WEAR THE SLIPPERS!?!?! Strokes of genius. I applaud the Langs

I wanted to see way more of Sir Hop-A-Lot and Crumb! I think they definitely would have benefitted from having a song with Ella, it would have helped solidify their bond and helped flesh out their characters (tbh Ragweed felt like he had more character than either of them 😭)

The songs were VERY hit or miss for me and I felt like a few of them didn't really match the tone of the show. Ash to Ash was a standout number (Kim absolutely killed it!!)

Bryce was amazing as expected and I'm so so happy she was the lead! Her voice is to die for and she brought so much emotion to the role of Ella

I was surprised the Prince and Tadius didn't get a comedic song. It would have worked so well for the scene where Tadius was announcing the ball! He could have been describing ideal characteristics of a queen to the Prince while the Prince goes off on horny ramblings, Tadius gets more frustrated as the song goes on until he finally throws up his hands in defeat, etc.

That being said, I was not a fan of the majority of the raunchy humor. Almost every line that came from the Prince was so unnecessarily gross. I know that was the whole point and I love James as an actor but the character just was not for me. Maybe I'm getting too old for constant streams of dick and poop jokes. I kinda wished they had stuck with a more serious tone overall

This is definitely a nitpick: the fairy godmother scene was SO GOOD (probably my favorite tbh) but I was SO distracted by the pants (AND THE SHOES STICKING OUT!!!) The costume would have looked more ethereal with a floor length skirt imo (or at least cover up her feet!)

I loved Jeff as the narrator. His interactions with Ragweed were very fun!

I had some issues with the pacing and the ending felt very rushed. Ella's final confrontation with her Stepmother should have been an epic battle but instead we got an exposition dump, a flash of light, and it was over :/ Kind of disappointing for the big climax of the show tbh

This is a criticism I've had with several Starkid musicals (aka Hatchetfield trilogy) where we have a character's friend(s) die horrifically and get very little emotional reaction from said character. So THANK YOU Langs for letting Ella properly mourn Lucy and Justine at the end!!!

I do have a lot more thoughts but they feel like nitpicks and complaints about minor plot holes and such, so I don't know if they're really worth sharing at this time. Anyway, overall I thought Cinderella's Castle was okay. The good parts were REALLY REALLY GOOD but unfortunately there were a lot a bits I personally did not enjoy as much as I'd hoped. I'll try to give it at least a second watch before my digital ticket expires to see if any of my opinions change. If not, I'll wait until the pro-shot comes out next year.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 15

welcome the the fifteenth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.  

1. there, nestled against his pulse by @hiuythn

stop why are you doing this to me stop it stop it stop--

klance soulmate au where your right wrist has the first words your soulmate says to you, and the left holds the last words they'll say to you. super sad, so much angst, and i've been informed it'll make you sob until you choke.

1. there, nestled against his pulse (the main story, from Keith's POV) 2. this is what love looks like: (tnahp from Lance's POV + 38k of sequel content) 3. roll credits (deleted/extra scenes and additional headcanons)

okay. i am so desperately obsessed with this fic, i was obsessed with it the first time i read it and im obsessed with it now. and yes i know i did all hiuythn fics last week and i promise i wont this week. BUT i have a set of comments associated with this fic bc it is Just That Good and so i shall present them to u now:

- literally the funniest characterization of shiro i’ve ever read. this shiro is gay and tired. this shiro unironically and frequently says “move. i’m gay” and gets away with it at the garrison. this shiro has been through A Lot and just wants to fucking retire - allura here is so so funny she’s such a badass. she’s giving “i love shiny things! like the shine of your spilled blood on the floor if you say that dumb shit one more fucking time!!” we stan a queen. - coran is a Mood. this man is desperately trying to reign in four teenagers and two young adults and just wants to go to bed and also he cares for them all so so much. ultimate dad - pidge is Mischief Personified. she is a brat and i adore her. she’s here to cause problems and by god she will succeed - hunk is so done it’s so fucking funny. “that’s literally impossible.” he’s a genius and he knows it, he’s glad to call you out on your bullshit. he doesn’t even TRY to pretend he can keep a secret and/or handle drama god what a mood - don’t even get me started on klance!! they’re so funny omg. the banter is EXQUISITE. lance and keith adore each other so much and they’re so badass. literally the coolest power couple fight scenes ever to be made, i do adore. gosh. and the ROMANCE they are so devoted to each other i’m emotional - honourable mention of lance’s legs and keith’a Soft Squishy Feelings that are mentioned so often that they’re characters. iconic. all in all, the best way to describe this series is Gay and Tired. i love it and i’m sad to see it end. i will be rereading it an embarrassing number of times. infinity/10

2. all the little things by @jilliancares

Or: 5 times Keith let Lance get away with things that he'd never let anyone else do, and 1 time Lance realized that he was, apparently, special

oblivious lance will always be funny to me. and the idea of keith just letting lance get away with Everything and Everyone knowing how whipped he is except for lance himself?? peak humour. never not funny

3. Full Disclosure by @dragonomatopoeia

Keith is impulsive and straightforward when it comes to most things, and emotions are no exception. It's no surprise, then, that when he realises that he might have developed a crush on Lance, he tries to tell him immediately. Unfortunately, it's very hard to account for both circumstance and who Lance is as a person.

Alternatively: Four Times Keith Tried to Confess and One Time Lance Actually Understood

more 2016 eliteness!! this fic is hilarious. and also its number one selling quality is that all of the characters are trans and nd i literally love that for them. nonbinary hunk loml

4. catch me, before i fall by @pastelrainbow

‘We are a good team.’

Even now, just recalling the way Lance had smiled as the words left his lips, made Keith’s heart race and his cheeks redden. Lance had never looked at him so fondly before. No boy ever had. The thought of it made a sigh escape his lips and Keith hunched his shoulders, a pout tugging his lips downwards.

Curse my weak gay heart.

-

a what if keith caught lance outside his cryo-pod.

the idea of keith being a suave casanova with more game than aphrodite herself but immediately going bright red and hissing when shiro teases him. peak dynamic. absolutely nailed siblings 

5. of demons and dates by spartona (faveour)

Three times Keith scares Lance shitless with his ghost shenanigans, and one time Lance tries to retaliate.

first of all. BFU KLANCE BFU KLANCE BFU KLANCE. second of all. the  “we’ve BEEN dating u dumbass ily” trope is so funny to me. i will never get over it

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[acheronist]

HI ISABEL i was thinking abt ur beechey boys + peglar/armitage extended cinematic universe while doing my laundry earlier (<- normal guy behaviour) and now i'm curious if u've thought of any actors/face claims for them – beechey boys especially bc we don't even have terror versions to use lol 👀🎤

HI GENEEEE 🖤 this is interesting.... honestly i've never been very good at fan casting shit because my default is always just going "x character should be played by riz ahmed" which ummmm would not work here i fear.

anyways everyone watch out there's gonna be mummy images below the cut

okay i really don't care about actors enough to do this well ummm LMAO johnny bertchtold YOU🫵🏻 are now john shaw torrington!! except johnny's way too tall and also ripped to be jorts.... i will say tho, as annoying as the john torrington/david young erasure is in the amc show, they did kind of nail it with alfie kingsnorth... now that's a skinny blonde bitch who looks half dead! he's got the right big round eyes + prominent cheekbones as jorts

if we could get some mutton chops and the uniform of a royal marine private onto ferdinand kingsley i think he'd be fantastic as william braine..... actually now that i'm looking at this i kind of feel like a genius for this one LMAO??

john hartnell is a little harder because i've already decided in my heart that this daguerreotype is 100% undeniably him even though the chances of it are actually probably very low. in actuality. but i have tried to match up the daguerreotype "hartnell" with the mummy hartnell and i do think it's a super close match.... i just wish mr. daguerreotype hadn't tucked his hair over his ear so i could compare the shape of john's ear.... but anyways there is actually one bg dude from terror amc who i have also kind of decided could be jarts!!! he was one of the dudes who voted to stay on terror and die there instead of out on the shale before everyone abandoned ship... he's got the right haircut for it <3 but also i think rob james-collier could be kind of a slay for jartnell if we can get him back to his downton abbey prime

and then thomas morgan hasn't really made his debut in the beechey boys cinematic universe (yet. chapter two still cooking......) and we also haven't exhumed HIM so this is really just like throwing a dart and calling it good. i did draw a little version of him here tho . so do with this as you will i guess. me when i'm just making up whatever the fuck. he should be kind of sickly looking as well though because my dude was going THROUGH it (+ he had one million pre existing conditions) before he died.

and for like... henry & thomas theyre much more nebulous in my brain..... maybe i'll try and draw them later!? i did do fanart here of henry tho but i fear it's got a heavy amc casting influence on what he looked like.

real life facts: thomas (5'9") is 2 inches taller than henry (5'7"), henry probably had broad/strong arms and shoulders due to climbing around in the rigging for his whole career, both of them had brown hair, and thomas was older than henry enough that he was probably starting to get salt-and-pepper grey during the miserable stressful parts of the expedition. henry's id papers describe his complexion as "sallow" and based on how many captains said he had a shitty/indifferent/bored attitude while working leads me to believe my king had chronic resting bitch face + looked vaguely exhausted and pale and unwell even when he was healthy.

also in my heart amc nailed it with giving thomas curly hair tho... charlie kelly is cute to meeeeee... unfortunately he isn't 40 years old enough. no source no facts anyways i just want to believe in curly girl armitage supremacy. ALSOOOO in my heart (again) henry has sailor tattoos-- HOLD FAST on his knuckles for good luck in the ropes + two swallows on his chest under each collarbone to mark his 10,000th mile at seas. i forgot what i was talking about. i think do think k*vin g*thrie's face was honestly too conventionally attractive for henry though. i just know my man was mid as fuck. frown lines from scowling, ink stains on his fingers at all times, never worn sunblock ever, thinks splashing water on his face counts as moisturizing etc.... MY henry peter peglar is pretty weather-beaten and looks like a mean cunt and sometimes he snarls at people like a badly trained dog. amen.