#it's not my favorite piece but it is done and it needs to see the light of day

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 9/1

Anonymous asked: has sally been introduced to cursed tavros yet?

[ cursed tavros jumpscare :D ]

Cursed indeed - but mind you, I don't think I could do much better. My handcraft skills are nonexistent!

Anonymous asked: ol tavvy is down with the clown ;o) Anonymous asked: Please, if you will, imagine if when Vriska kissed Tavros, he told her that he was already dating Gamzee.

Heh. I really do think Gamzee x Tavros could have worked out, at least until Gamzee lost his shit. Hell, even if Gamzee did lose his shit, he'd probably still be less of a threat to Tavros than Vriska was.

Anonymous asked: Did you notice Gamzee referenced Earth in his rap? ("6 trillion hemos all up on one rock bleeding as equals") How do you think he learned about it? Some weird pre-game precognition or just his stoned mind being accidentally right?

This isn't necessarily a reference to Earth - but it wouldn't surprise me if it was, because Gamzee's cult seems fully aware of the existence of Earth.

The 'paradise planet' referenced in Gamzee's intro is stated to not exist yet, which is exactly how the narration refereed to Earth in Hivebent's intro. I believe that the 'rowdy minstrels' he's talking about are literally ICP, although he clearly isn't aware of that fact.

@wizardlyghost asked:

A sentiment shared by Eggman, every Space Player, and the villain of Muppets Most Wanted.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've passed where fedorafreak's gray, serviceable hand-held computing device's battery has died, you might appreciate the following short piece of fan art: www tumblr com/vastderp-placeholder/7741061457/savior-of-the-texting-world-rise-up

The fucking implication that the phone is the Player in this scenario is obliterating me.

Also, its God Tier form has wings. Was it a troll all along, or are wings a symbol of divine apotheosis in phone culture, too?

@clueless-rarito asked: Heeey paranatural reference! Hell yeah!

Is anyone else totally stoked to see Eightfold again? I know I am!

Anonymous asked: bilious sick 😭

English's trick made our Bilious sick. :(

Anonymous asked: One of, if not my absolute favorite, quotes/moments in Homestuck is Karkat’s speech to Jade about his failed frog breeding here. Just such a wonderfully tragic moment that stuck with me since the first time I read it.

In a comic chock-full of great lines, that last one might just be the best so far. This was one of the last scenes before Act 5's true finale, and it was an excellent pick.

@drakethedeep asked: One theory I've heard about the Denizen's Choice that tend to headcanon, Is that the choice is to be happy/free or to matter. That much as how God-tiers only grants survival by never having an impact, the denizens have thier playes coose between seeking their happiness and survival, or to struggle to achieve things that while objevtivly monumental, might not be worth the sacrifices needed to achieve it. I like this theory because of how it themes to fit the themes of Sburb.

I really like the space you're playing in, but I'm not so sure if all the Choices we've seen would necessarily fit this interpretation. After all, Davesprite implicitly chose the 'survival' option when he first met Hephaestus, and he's not exactly a happy camper. He didn't end up particularly free, either, since he was almost immediately bound to a Sprite, and later to the Battlefield.

I guess you could say he 'mattered', because he is he reason the Alpha Timeline exists the way it does - but, technically, everyone's actions contribute to the Alpha Timeline being the way it is. I definitely think there's something to this theory.

Anonymous asked: Without the Door to actually enter the universe, all you've done is make a really big frog.

I guess, when you think about it, there's not really anything they can do with their universe without that door. I suppose they could just fly towards their frog and hope for the best, but somehow, I don't think that'll achieve much.

@morganwick asked: Of course, even though he wasn't fooled by Gamzee using Terezi's "voice", Karkat still showed up on the roof anyway. Perhaps he decided he couldn't take the risk that Terezi was actually there and Gamzee might catch her unawares.

Gamzee's been having a lot of fun 'impersonating' Terezi lately. Just like before, I don't think he ever intended to fool Karkat with his transparent ruse - he just wanted to unsettle the guy. It worked.

@morganwick asked: If Typheus is the mailman, does that make him PM's favorite Denizen?

Maybe it makes him the head of her mail service!

We never saw any other mail Carapacians, and I kind of love the idea that they were operating out of a Denizen's Palace the whole time.

@bladekindeyewear asked: You said: "Mind you, I don’t know if it’s necessarily always a good or heroic thing to allow a Sburb Player full agency over their actions, nor is it necessarily a bad thing to restrict them, in certain cases." Oh I'm completely with you there. In fact, you might DEFINE Heroism as denying agency to those who would do ill, in part. This would make both "Heroic" and "Just" deaths result from trying to stamp your own intentions upon reality, halted by others. Neutrality would be ineffectual.

That's certainly part of heroism - but to me, it's not even close to all of it. A firefighter, for example, is heroic in ways which don't involve another person, as their only real 'opponent' is nature itself.

I personally define heroism as the will to do good, in situations where doing good requires bravery. 'Good', of course, is a fairly slippery concept, though, so that definition is just as ambiguous as any other.

Anonymous asked: Doctor Who anon here. Doctor Who has no canon for purely practical reasons. It's so massive - there's the show, but there's also the Big Finish audio dramas, the DW magazine comics, the Radio Times comics, the IDW comics, the Titan comics, the Virgin novels and short stories, the BBC novels and short stories. And no one owns all of it. The BBC don't even own the daleks or K9. And each piece of media will freely contradict others. No one has the right to decide what's canon, so they just don't. It's also because the people running Doctor Who the show have a deep respect for the extended media. In the 90s, it was the non-BBC licensed, fan-led projects which kept DW alive. Russell T. Davies, first showrunner of the modern era, wrote Virgin novels, so did Mark Gatiss. Nick Briggs, modern voice of the daleks, is the head of Big Finish. So they didn't want to decanonise that stuff, but they also don't want to be beholden to it when writing their own stories. So the fanbase tends to operate on tiers of canon. Basically something can be assumed to still be part of the show's continiuity until the show contradicts it. Big Finish would generally be considered the next highest "tier" of canon. The Doctor Who magazine comics probably wouldn't contradict the show, but the show could contradict them any time. The old books and comics are dubious. But that's all just fan categorisation. Officially, nothing has been deemed canon or not. In fact, rather amusingly, the only thing that has been explicitly deemed "canon" by the BBC is the Doctor Who: Battles in Time card game. That's officially canon. Nothing else. Not even the show.

I think I've heard of 'canon tiers' before, in the context of the Star Wars fandom. I think it's a good way to delineate how 'true' a given event is considered to be, especially in a large, complex shared universe - but at the same time, being consciously aware of these tiers might hurt your investment a little.

You'll never be able to escape the fact that your favourite stories or characters are effectively fanfiction, at least from the perspective of higher tiers. They have no influence whatsoever over the more ''real'' part of the story, unless they're promoted its tier some day.

I do like the idea that all the other Doctor Who stories are fanfiction of the card game, though. That's definitely going to be my canon, from now on.

@morganwick asked: Well, back in Act 4 you said that John and Dave would make S-Tier if and when "John [threw] aside his passivity to do something heroic, and…Dave [would] finally drop that poker face and do something sincere", which is why I pegged the suicide mission conversation as when Dave might make the jump.

I think, on reflection, it's almost always a heartwarming event that catapults a character into S-Tier.

In my opinion, that's one of the most impressive feelings that a work of fiction can inspire in you, mostly because it's really hard to get you invested enough for it to hit properly. Homestuck's pulled it off an extremely impressive number of times already, and we're only halfway finished!

Anonymous asked: It is so fucking awesome to see a new reader in the year of our lord 2024 2025 who's actually like. Engaging with the themes of the story. Lotta people just see it for the memes or the "totally random" plot but some of the shit you're reading into what's happening is like. Eerily similar to actual Hussie commentary. Gold star for reading comprehension, you do not piss on the poor Anonymous asked: Your homestuck liveblogs are lovely and insightful and make me remember a lot of details of the comic that have been lost to time. You will comment on something and I'll go "oh huh homestuck was better than I remember it being." Thank you <3 @honestlyvan asked: Truly your liveblog is the best kind of re-experiencing the experience. I'm surprised at how much your thoughts and reads parallel mine, it's kind of fun to see someone else's deductions go along the same routes. I can't wait for you to get to the Truly Horseshit portions of the plot (and I say this lovingly, I think you're in a great position to give us a real raw read on them without having to deal with the various Mega and Gigapauses) Also -- you keep pointing out a shitton of foreshadowing I didn't catch until my second readthrough. I can't wait for you to get to the bits where it applies and be like "son of a bitch", I think where I'm in the reading of your backlog and where you're in the reading of the comic you've passed at least one of those bits already :D @worldweary-walker asked: The liveblog is so cool. It's a lot of fun seeing you put things together, and the posts where you come up with three completely right conclusions and two wrong ones always amaze me. Impressive work!

Thank you so much! I know I say this a lot, but a lot of these sentiments are exactly why I like reading liveblogs myself. I'm just really glad I can do that for others.

I can totally understand why someone would just read Homestuck for the memes. I wouldn't have been nearly as analytical if I'd read it as a schoolgirl, and a lot of the 2010s fandom were even younger than that!

@divineerdrick asked: Now we have multiple explanations for what is wrong with the kid's session. Vriska has made herself responsible for Jack's rise to power, Karkat believes he gave Bilious Slick cancer, and Gamzee created the harlequin doll that would torment John and prompt Jack's rage-fueled act of rebellion. You've already suspected that Doc Scratch probably has multiple plans in play at once, and we can see that here. It seems he insured, through multiple causes, the kid's universe has always been doomed. Gamzee, as usual, seems to be the wild card. But he's acting out during a crisis of faith, a faith tied to Alternia's twisted social structure, which Scratch seems to have had a hand in. So despite how random Gamzee's actions appear to be, it's possible Scratch managed to seed even this seemingly unpredictable action.

I think Scratch probably did 90% of the work in making Gamzee go ballistic, from multiple directions at once. Looking back, it's shocking just how much of the comic was Scratch's doing.

'Caused' is a loaded phrase in Paradox Space, but what's happening is definitely what he planned.

Anonymous asked: It kind of seems like Rage as an aspect is evil, no? Do you think an aspect can carry an inherent moral weight? If not, what are the neutral meanings of aspects that seem to, and if so, how do you feel about it?

Personally, I doubt that any of the Aspects have a moral alignment - not even the scary-sounding ones. After all, you can Rage against tyranny, or bring Doom to a corrupt institution. Yeah, Gamzee is using Rage for evil, but his perception-shielding could just as easily be used to hide an innocent bystander from an aggressive Underling.

I think that more or less any ability can be used for both good or evil. The only real exception would be a power that's deliberately designed to be irreparably, comically evil. 'The ability to torture everyone for all eternity' would be one of those powers, but Homestuck's Aspect abilities would not.

@worldweary-walker asked: have you read Kill Six Billion Demons?

I have not! It's on my long and constantly growing list, which means I'll get to it between now and, uh, 2096.

Anonymous asked: re: the ancestors' story. WHAT IF WE ALL JUST CRIED like. the sheer transition from inane antics to the. that @corporalotherbear asked: There's a very popular fanmade version of the sufferer's final sermon and following vast expletive, voiced by a man that would go on to be the english voice actor of Izuku Midoriya. I can't add links to asks but if it's spoiler-friendly then your vetter can probably send you "The sufferer's last sermon"

Oh, I kind of love this interpretation. It really sells just how unwinnable the Sufferer's rebellion truly was.

@wolygan asked: I forgot how she is so happy when she is running away. This Girl is still able to believe that good is coming. Except Lord English won't let that happen, no matter what. @wickedsick asked:

That was possibly the fastest you have ever been proven wrong about something

That poor girl. She suffered just as much as the Signless did, but she'll only be known to Alternia as a monster - and unlike Troll Jesus, no one will ever mourn the Handmaid.

Anonymous asked: the sufferer cult is definitely independent of the juggalos! the use of the word sectarian to describe the war waged against the signless's beliefs is not a coincidence, imo. (we also see that highblood is most often used to specifically describe purplebloods). they're just two different religious organizations. given that the grand highblood was a juggalo man/subjuggulator and occupied significant power it seems to suggest that clown religion was a Big Thing among the purplebloods, which would not truck with the signless' cult being so small and secretive. there's one theory that part of the reason the neophyte was sent on mindfang's case was bc the GHB (given that mindfang mentions the neophyte was sent by subjuggulators specifically) knew she was a secret sufferite and wanted to get rid of her. mindfang does talk about how it seemed like they were giving up on her case entirely by sending just one neophyte (granted this is partially bc she underestimated her). it would track that while they definitely wanted to get rid of mindfang, they also were fine with the neophyte dying. this also follows with the fact that after mindfang gets out of that trial, she manages to persist without being caught right up until her death at the hands of the summoner. were they happy that the neophyte got killed, enough to stop putting much effort into mindfang's capture?

I think the Highbloods probably did set Redglare up. I speculated that it was possible when we first heard about her death, and that was before we knew she was a Signless cultist.

Also: lmao, do you remember when Hussie told us that the Juggalo Cult was 'obscure'? That's starting to feel like something that was quietly retconned offscreen.

@clueless-rarito asked: In case you like to know, "Dolorosa" is meant to evoke the spanish word "Doloroso" meaning painful but changing the O for an A turn it feminine.

Dolorosa; in other words, the woman in pain.

Fucking hell, she deserved so much better. It's amazing how much bleaker the Ancestors' lives were, compared to their descendants. Modern Alternia is bad enough as it is!

@lon-kasi asked: Fanwork recommendation: The same guy who did the EoA5 reanimation just did Intermission 2 as well. Like, less than six hours before I sent this ask. It's incredible.

Yessss! These are amazing.

My favorite parts are all the extra touches that weren't in the original animation, such as Rose beginning to realizing how badly she was tricked - or Jade, unused to her own powers, almost knocking John on his ass while she teleports him.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've seen what a Reckoning on Skaia looks like, you can see why Karkat was rushing Kanaya to get their frog done. Despite jumping the gun, skipping the lore elements and just killing their way to the end, the troll kids never had enough time. Especially since, now that I'm thinking about it, if it wasn't the Reckoning then it probably would have been Jack as the "time's up, now turn in your work" event. @marinerofthestars asked: With the revelation that Alternia was built to and ended up speedrunning an Sgrub/Sburb session to catastrophic effect (great job reading this far, btw), how long would you expect a “standard” session to take?

We've got two different asks here - one saying that normal sessions are meant to be shorter than Hivebent's, and the other saying they're meant to be longer.

I honestly don't know which I believe. It feels unrealistic for a Sburb session to take months, but Scratch really did seem to be saying that the trolls were extremely effective Players, implying most sessions take longer to beat. Maybe the reboot session will clue us in a little?

Anonymous asked: “How do you expect to out run me, When I Am Already Here.” Is such a hard line, and it’s completely missable in the alt text for the site banner. I know a lot of people missed it when these panels dropped. I remember HS being considered super unique because of how much the comic messes with formatting things like that.

I was super close to missing some of that scene, even though I'd already been warned about the alt text. There was just so much going on at the time, I almost didn't think to look at the banners.

@royalvorpal asked: "I thought words would be exchanged" How do you expect them to talk when they are in person?

pffffffffffffffffffft

Alright, that one fucking got me.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "But no, apparently not, because it took Karkat zero words and sixty seconds to completely shut Gamzee down. Now, don’t get me wrong, that’s incredibly impressive - but what did he actually do?" If you look back IN RETROSPECT at some of what Gamzee has been telling Karkat, it almost looks like pale flirting, like he was actually WANTING him to do this behind his threats. p3361: "FTC: i wonder if you can all be at with me in time and make me get my reconsider on?" Anonymous asked: You may not like it, but this is what peak moirallegience looks like.

Yeah, this really does make that exchange read as a little flirtatious.

Still, is this really how a moirallegiance is meant to work? Are moirails really expected to risk their lives to halt their prospective partner's rampage? This is starting to sound more dangerous than a kismesissitude!

@bladekindeyewear asked: I'm not sure how well it applies to the revised Homestuck website and it's probably impossible in the collection, but you could view any past/future page in any CSS format the site gave you with a keyword, like the black-on-green Doc Scratch format. So when Andrew did the "SNOP" to SBAHJ-mode, he was intentionally giving us a tool to view the ENTIRE SITE in SBAHJ mode.

There's a 'theme override' button, but I need to finish Homestuck to unlock it. I guess the comic's theme will change in more spoilery ways, later on.

Anonymous asked: Dolorosa/Mindfang is the true kicker of the “vriska keeps ending up in mirror relationships to her ancestor” belief, bc its the one where there is NO way vriska could know that shes in a mirror relationship. Eridan- orphaner dualscar and mindfangs romance was in the journal. Tavros- she knew about the summoner. But while there are hints to the dolorosas identity- sharp teeth, lower blood color, and a very vague if you stretch it hint about horn shape- no way vriska could have put those pieces together!!!

Man, it's still so fucked up that the Dolorosa went out like that. I still think it's at least remotely possible that she revived as a vampire, but I'm not gonna kid myself - her story is over. We're not gonna see her.

Anonymous asked: You've mentioned "ratfic" and something called "the Methods" before, is that something you've read?

If I could write an essay about Steven Moffat, I could write an entire thesis about Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality - but it'd be radioactively critical, and it feels mean-spirited to just post a rant about something unprompted.

If people want my thoughts in detail, I might stick them on the sideblog later - but for now, I'll just tell you that if it wasn't for that fic, XAE A-12 Musk would never have been born. Not a joke.

Anonymous asked: i love the complete about face on gamzee lol. "clearly the fact that he's gone nuts is something wrong with the timeline" gamzee is revealed to be responsible for lil cal "actually fuck this guy"

If we do ever recover the original Gamzee, it's going to really suck for him to face his friends. After everything he's done, will anyone ever really trust him again?

@elkian asked: Love the Exiles. So glad nothing bad happens to them, ever, (I assume the pause before the third s175 post is bc you, like me, took a break to cry over AR hesitating to kill his friend :,(

I was so bummed, guys. Carapacians don't have ghosts, I assume - so the Exiles, sans PM and maybe WV, are gone forever.

The Red Miles will probably have obliterated their corpses, so we can't even prototype most of them - but I'm holding out hope for Waywardsprite.

Anonymous asked: heh, you aren't alone in preferring god tier dave without his hood. i was around for when cascade dropped and wasnt able to watch it straight away due to the various troubles, but one of the first things i heard about it was people talking about how stupid they thought dave's hood looked.

I know, right? Like, yeah, it definitely says 'knight', but Dave's got great hair, and it feels like a shame to cover it.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "PCG: SHE WAS CONSTANTLY FIXING MY FUCKUPS. PCG: ROBOTS FROM THE FUTURE ALWAYS COMING BACK TO TELL ME HOW SOME HASTY SHIT I DID WITH FROG BREEDING OR WHATEVER WOULD MAKE IT BE IMPOSSIBLE TO WIN. PCG: MY OWN PERSONAL MISTAKES PROBABLY ACCOUNTED FOR MORE DOOMED ARADIABOTS THAN ANYTHING ELSE." Now that the Tumor's revealed for the precision device it was, it's also clear that Aradia, likely following the Horrorterrors' instructions, FORCED them to breed the frog JUST RIGHT to create the Sun.

Yeah, the existence of that precision device really fucking threw me. Whatever it did, the frog cancer probably was deliberately engineered to cause it - and I think it was engineered by Scratch, rather than the Horrorterrors. He was also talking to Aradia during the session, and this event was key to his plan.

Anonymous asked: (And one more ask from the person without a tumblr. -DJ) The thing is, Scratch could have just said "you must create the Green Sun, it is essential for the existence of the multiverse, not doing so will create a paradox". But either he chose to trick them, by only but saying "true words", just for fun…or there is some reason telling them about their true mission wouldn't work - RM

Either is possible, and it's pretty much impossible to say. That said, the Vast Glub is proof that he does just like messing with people, so I'm going with the former answer.

Anonymous asked: (forwarding another ask from the person without a Tumblr account -DJ) Do you think there are interesting parallels between Scratch and Tarquin from OOTS? - RM

Well, they are both meta-aware villains with extremely wide-reaching plans, and they're both pretty weird about women. Hopefully this means that Scratch's much cooler son will kick his ass in a later Act.

@bladekindeyewear asked: One tiny cute detail in Cascade I love is how when the Green Sun lights up in the distance for the trolls, Terezi tries to point at it, and Karkat gently takes her arm and re-points it in the right direction. XD

Shoulda brought the Smelloscope, Terezi!

Anonymous asked: The first time i read homestuck my shit bugged out and I literally just missed the entire scrapbook section and cascade. The SECOND time I read homestuck cascade gave me such a neuron firing high that only harrow the ninth has ever gotten close to

That's exactly how to describe it. Cascade blasted my neurons, in exactly the same way that part of Harrow the Ninth did.

@rwbypro asked: Ngl one of my favorite parts about homestuck is the fact that Doc Scratch Won, like he got Exactly what he wanted, and he played everyone like fiddles, one of my all time favorite villains in anything!

He did, the bastard! Scratch managed to pull it off without a hitch.

These are the exact kind of convoluted masterstrokes you want to see in a time-travel story, and I think English's machinations will only grow more intricate, going forward.

@sanctferum asked: The juggalo cult believes in a pair of mirthful messiahs rather than just the one, so if English is one of the messiahs, that's only half the equation. Presumably, the other messiah would be Scratch.

That works! I originally thought that the Messiahs were the two members of ICP, but let's be honest, they still could be. I absolutely would not put it past this comic to reveal that Lord English was Shaggy 2 Dope the whole time.

@sanctferum asked: So now that you've seen Lord English's true appearance: he's got a peg leg, and that peg leg is a golden cuestick, filling in the last missing piece of the Felt analogy - the one that moves the billiards around in the first place. For good measure, English's peg leg, single golden tooth and his garish coat give him a stereotypical pimp appearance, which is fitting given his treatment of his female servants so far (not to mention Scratch's own treatment of both the Handmaid and whichever female player he is manipulating at any given moment. He even explicitly uses the word grooming to describe raising Handmaid!). If there was ever a pimp for Dave to lock in his own crib while dropping it like it was hot, this would be him.

Ayy, you're right! I've been waiting for the Felt's cuestick since the Intermission days!

You're also right about the comic's villains. Scratch and English aren't just screwing over female Players - they've also been fucking with Mindfang, the Handmaid, the Condesce, and even Snowman. It's absolutely a pattern.

These guys aren't just cosmic villains, they're misogynist cosmic villains. Mundane evil and supernatural evil, all together in one convenient package of shit.

Anonymous asked: Now that we've gotten past this point in the comic- I just wanted to say I forgot Expatri8 was ever a name used to refer to Darkleer- mainly because all I ever see people refering to him as is Darkleer. And at first it kinda threw me for a loop when you called him that even though it's the only name you knew for him- Anyhows- You probably noted this at some point but only upper middle class to high blood colors seem to have name names, with some exceptions. Like, they're weird, but Mindfang, Redglare, and Dualscar are all fesable names. Meanwhile the lower bloods just have titles.

It is absolutely in character of Alternia not to allow lowbloods to have names.

Anonymous asked: Just read your liveblog over the last two days. I adore your analysis! I second that one person’s reccomendation of In Stars And Time. Also I reccomend the Blue Lips homestuck video, it’s lived in my head for ages. I’m 99% sure it’s safe to watch now? It’s about the events of murderstuck and I don’t THINK it references anything you don’t know. Anyhoot! I know you mentioned vriska being like Azula when you first started getting to know her. Now that you’re as far as you are, I’d like to argue… Vriska is more like Zuko, in a way? Like. The way she wants to wipe things clean, the way he wants to restore his honor. The way they both have a “parent” that leads them to how things are, and for a while they cling to that as “right” and how things should be… One time I saw a post that Vriska is girl Zuko and Eridan is boy Azula and all the comments were arguing that no, vriska is Azula, but lowkey that post changed my brain chemistry and idk why people were SO vehemently against changing the genders of the characters in the comparison

I think Vriska works well as girl Zuko. You're right - they both started off under the thumb of an abusive parent, and they both try to 'fix' their past mistakes without understanding the wider context behind why they made them. Now, does this mean Vriska will also be getting a kickass redemption arc, which turns her into one of the comic's most straightforwardly heroic characters? Possibly, but I ain't holding my breath.

It's a little harder for me to see the second comparison, though. Like her brother, Azula was made into what she is by her horrible father, whereas Eridan became what he is on his own, with some assistance from Alternian culture.

Perhaps there are layers here that I'm just not seeing. I haven't read the Avatar sequel comics yet, so they might do more with Azula's character that I don't know about.

@mrjocrafter asked: I was trying to think about what the characters' moon alignment means in terms of their characterization, thought "Prospit dreamers are relatively passive while Derse dreamers are relatively active", then realized that's only true for the humans, the Post-Scratch Trolls' 6 Prospit dreamers (excluding Sollux, as his 'official' alignment, according to the Extended Zodiac, is Derse) are the more active characters. Then I realized that on Earth darkness and dark-associated characters are edgy and countercultural, while on Alternia light and light-associated characters are countercultural instead! Goddamn this comic just keeps coming back for more themes Also, I know you've compared Taylor to Vriska in the past, but she really strikes me as more of a Terezi. Beyond the surface level stuff (like going blind and then relying on a supernatural sense), Taylor, like Terezi has a strong moral compass but will twist it into pretzels to do the most horrific shit and there's a 50/50 chance she even regrets it afterwards. Meanwhile, Amy, who I think makes a much better Vriska, does her atrocities either under manipulation (like Vriska) or just does it without thinking about it and feels bad about it later (hey, also like Vriska). Also, Taylor Hebert and Amelia Dallon are coincidentally both valid troll names.

Yup! Which means Kanaya is a troll goth, which is still amazing.

And... hmm, I'm not sure whether I'd call Dave active or passive. He certainly acts more on his own initiative than John, but he also spends a lot of time getting bossed around by Terezi. He's kind of in the middle, really.

I do think Terezi's reframing of her violence as 'justice' is very Taylor-coded - and Amy is absolutely a Vriska, if we're working off the 'female, controversial, and morally ambiguous' definition given by a previous asker. Plus, well...

...yeah. And let's not even talk about Ward. (Because I haven't read it.)

Really, all these characters are multifaceted, and you can draw many different parallels in many different directions. If I had the time, I could probably draw lines from each of the trolls to a different cape in the Wormverse - but for now, we must continue!

@morganwick asked: Bec's influence on Jack is so strong that not only is he reduced to following Jade around like a puppy, he kills CD for completing the mission he gave him and leaves Jade, one of the players he's supposed to be killing, on her quest bed, the nature of which he didn't seem to know about when it came to John. Bec = absolute king.

Bec is a king.

It really does seem like his influence over Jack is increasing as time passes. Is Davesprite going to get more birdlike, as well? Or is Bec just a special case because he's a First Guardian?

Anonymous asked: oh my god you really just cleaned the board with the last minute Dave+Rose quest slab guess??? Like. You were going on about other things and then you just casually mention "oh I guess this could happen too" like okay!!! Seer!!!!

Yeah, I'm pretty proud of that one. I was just thinking about how Aradia might help the Derse kids, once she'd met them at the Sun, and then it hit me: she's been in exactly the same situation, in exactly the same place, because of exactly the same sun!

Anonymous asked: dogtier IS in fact what the entire fandom calls her, if you came up with that yourself congrats on the authentic 2011 homestuck experience, move over carcinisation this is the new big thing in convergent evolution

I did, but come on. That pun makes itself.

Anonymous asked: Fun fact: the music used in [S] Begin Intermission 2, "English", is the same when reversed. It is an EXTREMELY excellent detail. And another example of Toby Fox being a brilliant composer. @sanctferum asked: English by Toby Fox is a really cool song in that its a musical palindrome, playing the same both forwards and backwards, as befits the titular entity. The whole Felt album it's from is based around creating songs with time gimmicks in them, so it serves as a very good semifinal track to almost close the album out. @emotionallyglued asked: You finally got to the part where our big bad man appears! Simple question to ask but I'm looking forward towards the answer: what do you think of Lord English's theme? Grandiose enough to fit a villain of his caliber or did you expect something more/else?

Oh, shit, that's cool!

I liked the song a lot. Sure, it's not as bombastic as the boss theme I went with myself, but it is much, much scarier. It was the perfect way to remind us that this wasn't really a victory - that English's plan went off without a hitch. Our heroes are still in terrible, terrible danger.

@morganwick asked: post/756751870755733504 Still think of Doc Scratch as "Big Cal"? @sanctferum asked: You've heard of Lil' Cal and Big Cal, now get ready for the deadliest and dastardliest villain of all: Biggest Cal. Anonymous asked: you've seen lil cal, now get ready for BIG CAL @lon-kasi asked: finally, Big Ca- well. actually. Scratch was Big Cal, wasn't he? so finally, Bigger Cal

This is the real reason Scratch wouldn't tell Rose his boss's name - because if she'd known her manipulator worked for Bigger Cal, she'd have been too god damn scared to go grimdark.

Anonymous asked: T1ck T0ck goes the God Tier Clock. Its chime signals the Br8k of Scratch's H34D. And with the arrival of Lord English, he lets loose two great, Vast honk HONKS. Anonymous asked: Did you notice something about the English sequence? First, we see Scratch's clock. t1ck, t0ck. Then, his head breaks. 8r8k H34DS. He releases the Vast Honk. honk HONK.

This motherfucker died to the very words that birthed him.

I guarantee you that this was deliberate on Scratch's part. He didn't need to foreshadow his plan so blatantly - but this horrible little troll knew that nobody would get the joke until it was too late.

bladekindeyewear asked: "S u c k e r s ." The bioorganic-looking Tumor opening up to reveal a precision device. Twice the mass of a universe. Doc Scratch fucking played EVERYONE SO HARD. We couldn't believe THEY CREATED THE GREEN SUN, so hard many of us watched without REALIZING IT. If you reread the talk Doc and Rose had from p3627 onward, the amount of TRANSPARENT DODGES AND WEASELING he did in that conversation to mislead Rose and the entire readership is so blatant and shameless, oh my fucking god!!! Anonymous asked: Not only did Scratch never said the tumor would destroy the green sun, he also specifically said they would travel to the green sun LOCATION, not to the green sun itself.

God damn it!

Scratch may have been stoic on the outside, but you mark my words: he was absolutely roaring with laughter on the inside.

@sunbluethinking asked: Regarding 'a dozen or two sweeps,' you do have to remember that it seems like one sweep is roughly equivalent to two human years? (See Terezi's and Dave's 'I'm six' conversation, or whatever it was.) So my impression is that a dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 24 years and two dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 48 years. Still really short, but not quite as absurdly short. (Which actually reminds me of the question of the problem of rate of maturation in fictional races with different lifespans. (Dungeon Meshi touches on this, but) in the case of Homestuck, I think it seems like the trolls mature to adulthood at about the same rate. It's just their adult lifespans that are different.) @bellcarved asked: If my math is correct, "a dozen or two sweeps" is a range of 26 to 52 years. Still not great, but 26 would be the low end of the life expectancy, while they tend to live around half as long as a human.

So either Aradia was about to die, or she wasn't - but either way, she was always going to die young.

We still don't know whether God Tier stops you aging, do we? I have to assume so, because death by old age isn't really Heroic or Just, but I'd feel a lot better if it was 100% confirmed.

Anonymous asked: And here we learn the story of Jesus and the second coming- @bellcarved asked: Now you know the truth: Karkat Vantas is the second coming of Troll Jegus Christ. Anonymous asked: I doubt I'm the first to say this but, the story of the Signless is undeniably based off the story of Jesus Christ. @skelekingfeddy asked: you do realise that the sufferer is Troll Jegus right. the irons/cancer symbol is the crucifix. his method of execution turned into the main symbol of a religion. the dolorosa is mary. karkat is the second coming. hes literally just Troll Jegus lmao @sanctferum asked: turns out, Terezi was right all along. troll jegus was real after all, and he was indeed the best jegus. shame on you for not believing, Dave

God damn it, Karkat. You hate yourself so much, even though you're literally the second coming of Christ.

And really does add weight to Terezi's claim that Alternia had the 'best' Jesus. Sure, says she's joking here, but... well, her Ancestor was a follower of the Signless, wasn't she? Could Terezi have inherited more of Redglare's legacy than we thought?

Anonymous asked: now that you know about the signless i recommend you take another read of karkat's long password on page 3972

...huh.

It almost makes it seem like Karkat's vaguely cognizant of the Sufferer's life, the same way the Sufferer was cognizant of his pre-Scratch incarnation. Funny, that.

@morganwick asked: "For a bisexual alien, his shipping is awfully straight, isn't it?" Well, consider that when he drew that he was trying to adhere to the human model of reproduction with its explicit requirement of one person of each sex, as best he could from his alien perspective. Note that in the same conversation he's struggling to understand the "human taboo of incest". @manorinthewoods asked: Karkat's humanshipping is straight because John told him he wasn't gay, and presumably, he extrapolated. ~LOSS (28/12/24) Anonymous asked: Karkat's very straight shipping chart is the way it is because John's Not A Homosexual:tm:

I totally forgot I came to the same conclusion, back in that legendary group chat.

Man, Rose x Kanaya is really going to throw Karkat for a loop. He'll probably think that John was just bullshitting him.

@skelekingfeddy asked: steven moffat is a valid troll name Anonymous asked: You've brought it up too much not to ask, what did Moffat do that pissed you off so badly?

Once more, I am very tempted to make this a full essay, but I'll save time by just pointing to Hbomberguy's famous Sherlock video, which I agree with, like, 80% of - particularly the Doctor Who segment that I've timestamped.

In a nutshell, Moffat was always really good at generating intrigue, and building hype for future events - but as a showrunner, he never really delivered on his promises, and was very fond of handwaving established canon to the side. Pet peeve of mine, as you can imagine.

@rwbypro asked: We warned you bro, we warned you about the most important character @skelekingfeddy asked: carcinoGeneticist may have engineered the cancer…but terminallyCapricious was the one who made it terminal. ;o) @capribornio asked: Honk, honk :0) Heyyyy you reached the part where Gamzee became my favorite enemy. Forget Vriska, Jack and Doc Scratch - Gamzee may have his buttons pushed by the good ol' Doc, but he managed to make things worse than even Vriska got to (and killed more main characters, too!). Anonymous asked:Congratulations on reaching this point. So, Gamzee chucklefucked the universe. Crazy, right? @bellcarved asked: Gamzee's "Bard of Rage" title is looking more accurate than ever, now. His own rage lead him to put the clowns in John's dreams, which ended up inspiring the rage that made Jack Noir go to the lengths he did. Bardic inspiration, if you will. …also, this makes Perfect Jack a collaborative effort between Vriska and Gamzee. @capribornio asked: I feel like you get Gamzee much better than most livebloggers (and a part of the fandom, too). Gamzee is an orchestrator, on a much bigger level than any could have predicted. The silly little troll dissappeared once he got off the slime, got his religion destroyed, and got Lil Cal.

I told you, guys! I told you Bards were overpowered!

Yeah, he's already getting pretty crafty, isn't he? Maybe, instead of manipulating Gamzee like he did the girls, Scratch has actually been coaching him. After all, his own manipulating days are over, so maybe he saw fit to train a successor...

Anonymous asked: if vriska was presented with a choice about the creation of bec noir, it would have had to be before the veil because the trolls only flee into the veil AFTER bec shows up and wrecks their reward- and that's their first introduction to him. any choice she could have made about bec/jack after that would result in a doomed timeline, because it would break the loop. that's why it has to be before the veil. @manorinthewoods asked: What I mean is that the Choice that would have prevented Bec Noir is something that would have made Vriska change who she was, in such a way that she wouldn't later make Bec. Vriska's Choice that made Bec can't have occurred in the Veil, because there wasn't a Denizen to give it, so whatever it was, it must have been something to do with character growth that she failed to do. ~LOSS (28/12/24)

Oh, right, that makes sense!

Yeah, poor Vriska simply wasn't self-aware enough to make such a Choice before the Veil. It's interesting what-if, though.

@flambeaufelid asked: ICP albums liveblog maybe??? (Do people liveblog music reactions? They should.) Anonymous asked: Since you mentioned the possibility of having to listen to ICP albums to understand Gamzee better, I figured I’d better let you know that while reading a bit about juggalos, ICP, and ICP’s music does help with understanding Gamzee better if you’re unfamiliar with them (though I wouldn’t say it’s crucial), I don’t recommend listening to their music unless you’re comfortable with graphic depictions of gore, murder, and other forms of violence. (Speaking from personal experience here; I tried listening to them because Gamzee’s my favorite character and quickly realized I didn’t enjoy that.) Anonymous asked: I would say listening to icp is not necessary… I tried myself and failed not even half way through one album so I admittedly could be wrong but… I think it was never intended to be THAT serious

I checked out Miracles, back when ICP was first brought up, but I haven't seen any of their other music. It's probably not actually necessary to listen to the band to understand Gamzee, but I might still do it for fun, since the graphic content wouldn't bother me much.

@skelekingfeddy asked: according to hussie the fifth wall is what divides two narrators/authors @sanctferum asked: According to Hussie's comments, if the fourth wall is the wall between the character and the author/their audience, then the fifth wall is specifically the wall dividing omniscient narrators from each other. or something like that

I, uh, guess that makes sense. Presumably Scratch would be our second 'author' in this scenario, even though he's not literally another author of Homestuck.

[sockeye-run]

Pls ignore the scrunkly hair lol.

I finally finished my second big piece! I had this men's western style Levi's shirt for bee work, when it's not so intense as to need a full suit. My favorite picture of me in this shirt in the past comes from a moment of derangement last spring while building up over a thousand Nucs with the beekeeping team in the back pasture for pick-ups lol:

No, wait, that's a different shirt? Whatever, same concept lol. A nice, slightly oversized long sleeved shirt to protect from occasional stings while working hundreds of colonies, right? Well the saddle on the shoulders inspired me to go full western style with it. I had a peel and stick pattern for the scorpion design on the back, but of course I got to choose the thread style and design. I had some variated thread that I wanted to try out, and it made a very interesting pattern on the strawberries and their leaves. I like it, but I think next time I will create light colored sun spots or variations by hand instead of relying on the random dye pattern.

For the front of the saddle I free-handed the strawberry designs on some blank peel and stick material, mirroring the design for the opposite side.

It took probably two weeks to get this all done by hand, a couple of hours at a time after work or whatever, but I am very happy with it. Every time I take on a new technical piece I learn so much about technique and design. I even wore it to work today to not so humbly brag to my coworkers lol. I would like to make cool custom pieces for friends and loved ones soon. I just want to get my skill to the point where I'm confident enough to offer such a thing.

I chose to make the Scorpion look like the tiny brown ones I see all the time here in SE Texas, instead of black, to give it more depth and locality, and I really like how it came out ❤️🦂

[strawberrystepmom]

re: cancer men - the creators and dreamweavers of the zodiac:

okay hi hello. i was reading and am perpetually reading anthony bourdain's books and felt inspired to kind of break down at least astrologically the mystique of the cancer man. this is not a defensive essay but rather a piece that can offer a (hopeful) shift in perspective with regards to how we view these people in our world and our lives.

so the cancer man often has mommy issues. i hope you heard me sigh very loudly saying that because i hate using catch all terms for things that require nuance but it's a concept we are all familiar with based on term alone so it's what i'll use. my rebuttal to this is also - who doesn't? in some capacity? then i remember i'm a water sign and my mom was a cancer and i need to keep this moving on...

mommy issues aren't an indictment, they're most often just an indicator of areas where a person needs more support. perhaps they're a little scatter brained and need a partner who wants to help them get organized. perhaps they're a little emotional and have been told such their entire life to the point they're no longer wanting to be emotional so they need a partner who is willing to be a bending ear.

these areas of emotional need can lead to cancer men specifically tending to really need a lot of strong reinforcement from the women in their lives if they're unwilling to look inward and re-mother themselves so to speak. they can lean on their partners a lot because it's hard to talk about the deep feelings they have. when you agree to love a partner who shows you they need this support, you guys are gonna get mad at me for saying it, but it needs to be provided in a healthy and functional way. if you cannot provide that support do not take up with a man who already has inherent emotional distress just bc he dared to be born under a water sun.

that being said - i implore you, cancer man who may be reading this, to become your gentle inner voice. to reassure yourself that you're doing a good job and that you haven't done wrong. a cancer's fears can seem almost childlike to the uninitiated (do i know what i'm doing? is this going to last forever? what if they change their mind? what if? why? who? when?) but my rebuttal to that is also - all of our own inner monologues are our child selves or someone who hurt our child self. reserve judgement about the maturity of other's emotional processes.

cancers (all genders/identities) instinctively use their protective shell to get them through life. they are symbolized by the crab after all, so they sometimes assume costumes both literal and metaphorical.

in men these may be different personalities - you'll find the doer who shows up to your house with boxes and helping hands when you tell him you're moving, the quiet stoic lover who meets your needs in the most unassuming of ways, the man who is using macho as a defense mechanism who peacocks around and uses emotions as a weapon and finally, the man who is using his own machismo as a charming safe haven for others with hands that only wish to caress and heal (my favorite).

i mean god, a lot of cancer men either lean into the super affable cute sweet guy in hoodies and jeans while absolutely blasting the most insane screamo music in those headphones or they are tattooed, love to look alt because it hides that their top artist for this year was mitski just to give you an idea of the physical identities they may assume.

cancer men crave intimacy. their deep desire for enduring love, family, a place to call home no matter how transient everything else in their lives may feel isn't incidental, it's their birthday candle blow and falling star wish every time they see one.

they just have a tendency to rebuild their shells if they have broken through and start to feel unsafe with someone. they can become combative. the "yeah and what about you?" starts at that point and things can start to break down if you aren't willing to look deeper and realize he's hurting and that's why he's lashing out. it isn't okay, it isn't right, but it's the way cancers (and tbh all water signs why else do we have terror reputations) behave when they are retreating.

cancer men are gifted at making their loved ones dreams come true because almost always, they're making theirs come true as well through the process. they're life builders. commit to him and don't question him and he will give you everything you could ever want if he's done his inner work and he's ready to do so. let him build you the fantasy. embrace a man that loves you so much he wants to give you a babylonian garden of your own.

that being said, it's not your responsibility as someone who loves him to get him to that point so proceed as you wish but be aware that if you give up, you won't get the opportunity to come back once he's all fixed. don't cross a cancer - they're twice as vengeful as a scorpio with a virgo's very, very long memory and you will live your entire life being reminded that you didn't love them when they needed to be loved the most regardless of how true it may or not be. cancers deal in facts and feelings both and oftentimes their feelings are where the facts come from and experiences may vary.

but anyway yeah

[lostintransist]

Chiseled Heart | Part 4

AO3 | Part 1

Some days he hated Feather. If killing her would have solved the problem König might have considered it. However, he had been the idiot who failed to notice the provision of his contract with the gallery that required his attendance for at least one hour each show. The buzz of his phone in his pocket alerted him to the end of his contractual time.

If your brain could make sound effects appear in the real world the dial-up tone would be playing as you processed the fact your gym buddy stood in the art gallery that was hosting a show for your favorite artist. He wore a black surgical mask here like he did at the gym, his hair taking on a slightly reddish cast in the lights.

Danielle had come with you to the art show this time, as she is always down for a reason to wear a pretty dress. But how did you explain to your friend that you and your gym buddy had never actually exchanged names? He’d only saved you at least three times and you hadn’t remembered to ask his name. Fuck. You couldn’t believe you had been so inconsiderate!

“Oh! Hi! I didn’t know you liked sculpture,” you smile up at him to cover the realization that you didn’t know how to address him.

At your elbow, Danielle speaks up, “Who’s this?”

You gesture to him, “This is my gym buddy, the one I’ve been telling you about.”

She steps around you, all elegance and grace as she extends her hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Danielle.”

He takes it, hand swallowing your smaller friend’s fingers.

“König,” he shakes firmly before returning his hand to his side.

“And obviously you know,” Danielle gestures to you.

Your mind drifts as she continues to talk as your mind drifts. Tasting the sounds of his name on your tongue you savor the flavor of it. A touch on your arm clicks you back into the present moment.

“You like King’s Healer, König?” You blurt out the question before you can think to reign it in.

Danielle and König both look at you. Danielle’s face reads ��I love my friend but you were clearly not paying any attention’ and König’s brows are pulled together slightly, blue eyes looking a tad watery.

“I am done looking for tonigh-”

You cut him off, sadness rising through you like water creeping through a paper towel.

“You’re leaving? Oh,” you give him a small, sad smile. “I guess I will see you at the gym then?”

If deer had blue eyes they could be called König. You winced at the stab of guilt that bounced between your ribs.

“I can stay a bit longer if you don’t mind company?” He offered, hand gesturing back into the room where people mingled.

Danielle sent you an appraising look when you couldn’t prevent a smile from forming.

“We wouldn’t mind the company at all! This is my favorite artist and I’m mostly here to see some of his newer stuff. I am on the email list for the gallery specifically so I can know when his new pieces arrive,” you start further into the room.

You came by nearly every other week to look at the sculptures. King’s Healer captured evocative emotions that ran the gamut. Spinning you sent a grin at your friend and König.

“They put his new things in the big room, he is a major draw. I asked one of the staff once why they put him there. They said that is the room with the most reinforced floor and it pulls people past all of the other artists giving them exposure and boosts sales for everyone on display.” Turning back to watch where you were walking you pull in a deep breath to combat the need to run.

Danielle appeared at your side as you stepped into the large room. Bright lights highlighted the pieces on display. Sucking in a sharp breath you count twenty new pieces.

“Does he ever sleep?” You ask to no one.

“Why do you use he?” König’s voice comes from above your head.

Tipping your head back you see him peering down at you, confusion etched between the hairs of his brows.

Spinning to face him and relieve your neck you consider his question. Danielle squeezed your arm. When you nodded in acknowledgment she drifted off to look at all the displays.

“It’s mostly a feeling.” Movement from behind him alerted you to more people trying to enter the space. Without thinking you laid a hand on his arm and guided him to the side, leaving the doorway free. “Here let’s shift out of the doorway. It’s mostly a feeling I get when I look over all the work. I’ve been following this artist for a few years now.”

Pulling your hand back to yourself you notice König starting at his arm as if you had burned your fingerprints into his flesh through the long sleeve of his shirt. Ignoring it, as every interaction with this man led you to believe that he did not have enough kindness in his life, you go on.

“Whether or not King’s Healer is a man isn’t the point, the art has this,” your fingers curled and shifted as you thought of the word, “Masculine feel to it. Yes, he depicts awful things sometimes but the things that he creates don’t showcase the fears seeded into women’s nightmares like I would expect if he were a woman.” You shrug to end your small tirade as if you hadn’t dumped all your thoughts on this man.

“Do you,” he dragged his eyes up from his arm as he shoved his hand into his pocket, “Have a favorite piece on display?”

Rolling your lips between your teeth you look around, none of these pieces seem familiar.

“I’m going to be so sad if it was bought already,” biting the inside of your cheek you start moving around the room, observing and dismissing each new work of art until you finally duck out of the main room into a smaller, more dimly lit space. There it sat, like a child sent to a corner.

Most sculptures focused on what to leave behind as one created an image. This one did the opposite; the negative space told the story. Nested inside a boot print, large enough that it would require both hands to hold it securely, was the naked footprint of a child. When you had first seen it you had wept. The weeping more came from the story the gallery told by the placement but it still ripped at your heart.

The first time you wandered through these rooms and found King’s Healer’s art this footprint sat opposite a woman being dragged into a thick chunk of stones by many grabbing hands. Her arm stretched out, agony and fear etched across her face and in her eyes. You had studied her first, taking in the craftsmanship and the skills in every hand, different. Some had missing parts of their fingers above a certain knuckle, or the impression of hair on another. When you finally studied her, the woman in pain, you followed her eyes and found the footprint. A child. Her child? The nature of humanity is to tell stories, and the story you told yourself that day brought you to tears. You vowed that day to care for the memory of her child if you could. You saved money each paycheck for this single treasure.

Letting out a sigh of relief you turn and see König staring at the boot print. His shoulders are hunched as if he isn’t allowed by gravity to stand upright.

“Why this one?” His head turns first, eyes still on the art.

When they connect with yours the slut in the back of your mind starts panting. Fuck. You were attracted to him. Mmm. Were you attracted to him or did he just listen to you ramble about art? You could dissect that later.

Shrugging one shoulder you trap the tale behind your teeth. There had to be a lighter way to explain the heavy feelings this caused for you. Directing your eyes back to the boot print you fold your arms as if they could hold back the sea of emotions. His presence at your side settles you, as steady as the moon.

“It’s one of his first works. There is something special to me about it. He’s never done another piece in this style, using the negative space. All of his art tells a story and this one keeps me up at night.” Glancing up at him you find his eyes on you. König looks away, as if ashamed to be caught. “Do you have a favorite bit of art you have seen tonight?”

“Ja, but nothing from King.” His shoulders curled in ever so slightly more than before.

“Really? Would you show me?” You are curious to know what drew his attention.

König straightened so fast you swore you heard something in his back pop. He stared down at you like he had never seen a person before, confusion and awe warring through his eyes.

“Ja,” he nods his head once and strides away. You nearly need to run to catch up to him.

When he notices you take a few seconds to settle next to him before the painting a tinge of pink spreads above his mask.

“Entschuldigung,” he says bashfully.

You wave away what you assume in an apology.

“I’ll take excitement over keeping up most days.”

The painting takes your attention as you glance at it. A lush meadow ringed by great mountains is dotted with flowers.

“Dis reminds me of my oma’s home in Austria,” his tone nostalgic.

Glancing at him and back to the painting you ask your next question.

“Do you miss it?”

König let out a long breath before his answer.

“Sometimes, I doubt the flowers would recognize me if I returned though.”

With your period incoming you couldn’t prevent the rush of tears to your eyes. Trying to be discrete you fanned at your eyes.

“Mm? What is wrong?”

König tilts his head to look at you, alarm evident when he sees your watery eyes.

“Sorry, don’t mind me. Your poetic grief just caught me in a soft spot is all.” Your smile does nothing to remove the worried panic from his brows. “Thank you for showing me. I think though, even if the flowers don’t remember you the trees and the earth will.”

Now König looks like he might cry and to save both of you the embarrassment of being weepy fools you grab his free hand and drag him through the crowd back to King’s Healer’s room. Danielle finds you there as you examine each piece and discuss it with her, König still at your back.

When you have seen everything Danielle turns to you.

“You ready to go?”

“If you are. König, it was delightful to see you. Would you want to walk out with us? I know I delayed you leaving earlier.”

“Ja, I am ready to leave.” He gestured to the door, “I will walk you to your car.”

König leads you and Danielle outside, the balmy weather welcoming you after the heat in the gallery. He opens the door for Danielle who slides in behind the wheel and then follows you to your door.

You chat and laugh with him a moment more before climbing in.

“What was all that laughter about?” Danielle questions you as she pulls out of the spot.

Watching König disappear in the side rearview mirror you fight to form words.

“I bucked up and got his phone number.”

“Damn girl, I didn’t know you liked them so beefy,” she shot you a glance as she commented.

Smacking her arm lightly with the back of your fingers you fight down the mortification that she might be right.

“Neither did I.”

<Got home safe!

>Gut. Rest well.

<🥰

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist

@demothers-empty-blog @ang3lc @warlike-morning

[lemongogo]

i need 2 stop drawing static stuff . white bg . front facing pose. <will do it again

[voidendron]

h i m 💞

I wish the game showed his sad puppy eyes better, but- it he <333

[ninjasmudge]

[slides in]

hope youre doing well, this is your excuse to talk about something you've been waiting for someone to ask about, any topic

THIS IS YOUR FAULT FOR MAKING ME THINK ABOUT TRANSFORMERS AGAIN its one of my favourite franchises bc there are really NOT MANY characters who i am neutral on or dont like. ive singled out dozens of tf characters over the years to be the fave for a bit and rotated them in my brain for a few months, its actually easier to list the characters that i dont like than the ones i do. i do have some favs but theres stil like. 10 that i couldnt choose between. probably soundwave, sunstreaker, ratchet, vortex, deathsaurs, tracks, steeljaw (rid), spinister (idw), perceptor, fort max, skywarp, thATS MORE THAN 10 ALREADY BUT U GET IT

i actually have 5-6 a4 notebooks just FULL of transformers drawings, little comics of g1 episodes and character designs and stuff, its all from a few years ago before i started digital art but i should really redraw some of it bc ill never get tired of transformers.

and actually, i was wondering what to draw today so MAYBE some transformers stuff. i loved g1 for how absolutely insane it was, ive never seen a show with so many lines said like jokes that were just. not jokes and usually made GENUINELY no sense. not sure i ever laughed at a joke in that show but i do remember being in literal tears over animation errors, wild lines, weird noises, and plotlines that make no sense whatsoever. do not watch g1 with hopes of getting it, but i do watch it to laugh at the show itself

[funktechnisch]

emil in apple

i never posted this!! i also got vaughn in one of the cherry outfits from @/lesbian-vegeta back when i was doing these and put them together

[gghoulish]

my mother passed away on the 2nd and while many people who've been around me know she wasn't the best mother, it's still a loss and something to adapt to. so i wanted to share some of her favorite characters of mine even if just visually via sims. i've only shared a few of them here, but in order their names are teruki, sai, rei, bada, theo, kazuya, livewire, and giacinto. i've tried very hard not to give up on my writing these last few years and in the last month i wrote nearly 30k between a novel project and fleshing out ocs. one of the few things i connected with my mother over other than gaming or movies was my ocs, and i shared most all of them with her as of the last eight years. i'm sad she couldn't see the end of this novel since it was probably her favorite work of mine, but i'm trying my best to finish it, not just for her, but even more importantly, for me and my own happiness.

in her last year i tried really hard to help give her the holidays and experiences she wanted. i didn't get to give her every single one, or i couldn't do it exactly as she wanted, but i think one of the most important things to her was being able to, despite us being pretty poor, give me two gifts that really made me happy and have helped me to regulate. i haven't spoken about anoko on here because chiikawa isn't too huge on here compared to twitter, but having these plushies and my interest in anoko brought us closer together and these two have made me happier, helped me to have less nightmares and anxiety, and overall improved my life. it sounds stupid to say but as an autistic person with a lot of trauma, stuffed animals were a safe thing for me, but i hadn't had one in a long time that i connected with. i think she probably knew how much i needed them, so i'm grateful she helped me to get them even when they were really expensive. they really did and do make me happy, and i'm glad that even for years of turmoil in our relationship, you could leave off on a good note.

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #1 ; cockwarming w toji fushiguro .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

a couple days ago, mister toji taught me how to 'cockwarm.' it's where i simply sit on his . . . cock, and warm him up -- he says. i was so nervous ! he is so big , and i thought it was going to hurt tons ! it burned a little , but felt so much better after settling a little. mister toji was touching me so softly all over, calling me sweet things, and even played with my tail! i'm so embarrassed -- i must've been blushing so much! i think i may ask him to do it again today , i hope he doesn't get angry . . . i love mister toji so so sooooooo much ! ♡

“c—can we do it when you’re done?”

“what?”

he can tell by the way you’re fidgeting and your ears are twitching— you need something. you pinch at the skin of your thigh, nervous with little courage as you ask.

“the— the thing you taught me. last week. the warming one?” you quip, tugging on toji’s shirt as he finishes up cleaning the dishes in the sink.

“oh.. y’want my fat dick in y’r lil bunny pussy is what ‘m hearing, is that right ?” he emphasizes on dick. he’s so blunt, and it makes you want to crawl and hide. he turns to you with a checkered apron hanging onto his neck, hand leaning against the sink. his smug smile spreads across his face, seeming to enjoy the way you grow flustered.

you whine at his choice of words, thighs rubbing against eachother with need. he acts as if he doesn’t see you writhing besides him, your arm purposefully pressed against your chest to suppress your sore tits.

he can practically smell the sweet slick spilling from your pussy bunny, smearing over the crotch of your panties.

toji briefly tugs at the string that holds the back of his apron together, swiftly pulling it over his head before tossing the piece of fabric onto the dining table. he steps forward, figure pressed against yours and you unconsciously stumble back. he makes you so weak.

“uh huh—“ you’re about to beg again, but he’s quick to scoop you up by your legs, hoisting you up into his arms. you yelp, but make no effort to get away — instead, nuzzling your face closer into the crevice his neck, dizzy at the detected mixed scent of his woody colonge and tart sweat.

he chuckles when you huff at the intial drop of your body onto the matress of your shared room, your plush body sinking into the pillowy sheets. your legs part naturally, taking up your invitation and having him slot himself right where you need him most. his broad shoulders press up against your plush thighs, spreading them further than before.

“bad bunny. y’know you can’t just have cock in ya twenty-four seven, right?” his left pointer finger tugs your flimsy shorts aside, and right thumb presses against the soaked patch of your cunt. you mewl under his touch, soft pads of your feet coming up to press him away. you gently shove at his bicep, but he barely moves. he knows you don’t want him to move anyway. “‘m n—not a bad bunny!”

“you are.”

“n—not, ‘m not mister!”

“hmm, i dunno about that.” he hums, pressing against your clothed clit. “are ya ever not in heat?"

"sir, please, n’more questions!" you whine in fustration, yelping when his pointer and thumb meanly pinches at your swollen bud. your eyes bulb with tears, meeting his that suddenly glare so meanly in comparison to his often soft, emerald ones.

"do you know who you're talking to?" toji growls, squishing the chub of your folds together, the slight simulation to your clit making you flinch.

"y—yes, sir. but please . . . mister, need you here, need your cock here!" you whine, ears sullied and pointed low. your hand moves his to take ahold of his finger, pressing it against your aching slit.

"there there . . ." he coos, thumb sliding over your clothed slit but paying it no attention. he presses a warm kiss on the soddened fabric, low lidded eyes and a smug grin that meet yours when he does. you're adorable like this — absolutely worked up and so terribly desperate; it's his favorite version of you.

"m—mister," you stammer,

"c'mere doll." he sits up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. you yelp when you feel the chub of his cock pressing against your folds, grinding down senselessly. toji laughs, getting a hold of your bicep to halt your hips movements. "don't be so greedy, bun."

"hnn—" you whine, tail thumping against his thigh. you slowly tug down his sweats, ears perking up when you realize the missing piece of fabric below — he's not wearing boxers!

he notices the way your eyes light up, cheeks begin to flush, and your expression grows brighter than before — you're one step closer to where you need to be. he almost hates the adorable expression sprawled across your face, chuckling when you look up to him with big-doed eyes searching for a green light.

you salivate when you tug the sweats just low enough, his cock slaps against his stomach. he scoffs, watching his cock leak against his soft skin. he’s getting old.

“inside now— mister—“ you pant, drool spilling at the corners of your mouth. you whine again, hands weakly tugging aside your shorts along with your panties, and aligning his cock head with your fat slit. “mister . . .” you whine, hinting for help.

“y’can do it.” toji grunts, placing a hand onto your plush hip. “ mmh, you got it.”

maybe you don’t ‘got it,’ because it burns so terribly when your folds swallow his cock!

“m—mister, mister !” you whine, quickly pulling yourself off his bulbous tip at the initial burn. he watches your slick stretch from your wet slit to his cock head, making him groan.

“calm down . . y’r rushin,’” he readjusts you, pulling your quivering hips close before you’re hovering over his cock again with small tears. “my bunny can’t do it herself, can’t she? whatta dumb lil’ thing.” toji chuckles, “there there.” he whispers with a sultry voice, making your cunt quiver around nothing.

you whine when you feel him tug down at your hips, whining when his hot tip presses against your slit once again — your slits kissing.

“big sir, s—so big,” you whine, a stutter in your voice from the stretch down low.

“slow down, hurts ‘cause you’re rushin.’ see?” he coos, lifting and lowering your hips over and over, fucking you on his tip. no — you don’t see because you’re awfully lightheaded, hands weakly stabilizing yourself above him but little do you know it’s solely his support keeping you up.

your cunt squelches with each and every single movement, a low ‘pop’ that elicits from your pussy whenever he moves you. “good girl. you can take it, am i ever wrong?”

“i—i can, can take it . . .” you slur, head fluffy and hands weak against his pelvis. “good girl. now sit.”

he grunts, pulling your hips down suddenly all the way, your cunt kissing on his dewy balls. “fuck, damn it.” toji groans — you cry at the stretch, cunt sore and raw when he grinds you down further than possible. “m—mister !”

he chuckles again, breath labored as he pushes the loose strands of his hair back. “worst part’s over, doll.” toji presses down at your arch to lay you against him. he can still feel your body twitching from hiccups of your previous fit — poor bunny. “i—it is . . “ you hiccup. he pets at your soft ear that trails down to your waist, giving your plush skin a soft pinch with a hum. “mister . . feels good . .” you purr, tail twitching incessantly again.

“course it does.”

[kirammanswifey]

arcane characters proposing x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: it was so satisfying to have written this after so much dramaaaa. i really liked this dynamic and i'll exploit it with so much more scenarios so be prepared for a lot of fluff, btw my favorite proposal was jayce's, he was all cute and clumsy. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The silence in the lab is heavy, interrupted only by the soft hum of the machines he has designed himself. You’re beside him, watching how his fingers move with skill, adjusting a piece of the contraption he holds in his hands. The dim light from the lamps reflects on his face, casting shadows that highlight the features of his face, always so serious, so focused. But in his eyes, there’s something different today. Something... softer, deeper.

You’re used to seeing him in his colder, distant side, but something has changed. There’s a strange calmness in his presence. When he looks up and meets your gaze, his lips curl slightly, a small but meaningful smile.

"Science is my life," he says in his deep, measured tone, as if evaluating each word before speaking. "And it always has been. But some time ago, something changed. Something that... has nothing to do with experiments or formulas. Something I can’t measure or control."

He looks at you with an intensity that feels almost uncomfortable, as if he were exposed, vulnerable, on ground where he doesn’t have all the answers. His voice, though firm, carries a vulnerability he rarely shows.

"You’ve given me more than I thought I needed," he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s not just what you’ve done for me in the lab. It’s... what you’ve done for me as a person. You’ve been my anchor, my reason to keep going when everything seemed lost. In a world that doesn’t have clear answers, you’re the only certainty I have."

The distance between the two of you seems to shorten. Viktor takes a step toward you, although his movements are slow, as if each one carries meaning. He stops beside you, almost as if it were a gesture of trust, of allowing himself to be vulnerable in your presence. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if preparing to say something that has taken him a long time to decide.

"What I’m about to say... doesn’t have any exact formula. No calculation that validates it," he says, and you can see his hands tremble slightly. "But I know that, with everything I’ve done, with everything I still want to do, I would never feel complete without you."

His voice is soft now, much quieter, as if what he’s about to say is a secret, one he’s revealing only to you.

"I’ve seen you beyond the brilliant mind, beyond the scientist who always challenges me. I’ve seen you as someone who, no matter how many times I shut myself off from the world, continues to be by my side, expecting nothing more than... to be with me."

He takes something from his pocket. A small metal case. He opens the lid carefully, revealing a simple ring, but with an elegance that only he could have imagined and created. The Hextech light reflects off the blue stone, casting glimmers that make your breath catch for a moment.

"My life wouldn’t be the same without you. And if there’s one thing in this world I don’t want to lose, it’s the opportunity to have you by my side forever."

Viktor looks at you deeply, waiting, more vulnerable than he’s ever been. And finally, after all the science, all the advancements, all the sacrifices... he asks you with a sincerity that cuts through the air:

"Will you marry me?"

The silence that follows is absolute. You stay motionless, unable to articulate a word. The weight of his declaration, of his vulnerability, pierces you, but instead of an immediate response, you dive into the intensity of his eyes, looking for something, any sign, any confirmation that this isn’t a dream. Viktor begins to worry, and the discomfort is reflected on his face.

"It’s a shame... I can’t do it the conventional way, kneeling..." he murmurs, his voice trembling. "But... I guess..."

You can’t let him finish the sentence. The anxiety in his eyes, the insecurity in his posture, prevents you from doing so. You move quickly, placing your lips on his with a soft kiss, but one filled with everything you can’t put into words. The world seems to fade away, and all that remains is him, the beating of your heart, and that silent connection between you two.

When you finally pull away, his gaze is still fixed on you, expectant, anxious. With a tenderness that comes from deep within, you take his face in your hands, your fingers caressing his skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And it was. He was the most precious thing in your world.

You look deeply into his eyes, every word that leaves your mouth filled with love, promises, and everything you haven’t said until now.

"Yes, Viktor... yes, yes, yes. Always yes."

The air between you both is filled with a new energy, one that needs no more words, because the simple fact of being together is enough.

Jinx

The night has fallen, but it’s not a peaceful one. The air is charged with electricity, as if the whole world is waiting for something, and you, trapped in the whirlwind of the city, can’t help but feel that something is about to explode. Literally.

You walk through the dark alleys of the Undercity, the neon lights flickering around you, when suddenly, a familiar laugh makes you turn. Jinx appears, her electric blue hair waving in the wind and a spark of madness in her eyes. She’s holding a large, seemingly heavy box in her hands, grinning mischievously.

“Surprise!” she says, her voice overflowing with excitement. “I’ve got something incredible to show you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever seen!”

Before you can say anything, she grabs your hand and drags you toward an open space, where a small platform is set up, filled with wires and explosives. The sense of danger is in the air, but it’s impossible not to feel the adrenaline she radiates. You know that with Jinx, you can’t expect anything conventional, but that’s what makes her so unpredictable. So... perfect.

“What are you doing?” you ask, although you can already imagine the kind of madness she has in mind.

“Doing what I’ve always wanted to do! A celebration of love that no one will ever forget!” she replies, her smile so wide it almost lights up the city’s darkness.

Jinx runs toward an improvised control panel and presses a button with exaggerated theatricality, as if it were a grand revelation. Suddenly, the sky lights up. A flash of colors bursts above you, as if the very chaos inside her wanted to spill over into the universe. Fireworks. A visual spectacle so dazzling that it takes your breath away. It’s as if the whole city is alive, as if life and death themselves were dancing in the sky.

While the explosions of colors fill the air, Jinx approaches you, her eyes sparkling as if she had immersed herself in her own world of madness and love. She’s not one to beat around the bush or speak sweetly, so when she takes your face in her hands, her fingers cold but full of energy, you know what she’s about to say is as unexpected as everything she does.

“Listen,” she says, looking at the colorful stars exploding above them. “What I love most about this world is the chaos. Things don’t have to be perfect or make sense! But... there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of.”

Your heart beats faster, but you can’t help but smile at her wild declaration.

“I want you to be my chaos,” she continues, her voice full of determination. “I want you to join me in this journey of madness, to hold on to me when I explode, to keep laughing when the world falls apart, to follow me... because you and I are invincible!”

With a nearly mischievous grin, Jinx pulls something from her jacket: a ring. It’s quirky, like everything in her life, with visible gears and sparkling stones, some even crackling slightly, as if they’re about to explode.

“What I mean is... will you marry me? Tell me yes before I run out of fireworks!”

Jinx’s laughter is a little overwhelming, an echo of her own unpredictable essence. But despite all her chaos, there’s something so sincere in her eyes, something that makes you feel that, even though the world may be on the edge of destruction, this moment, this chaos, is the only thing that truly matters.

You stand there, speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by the light bombardment and the madness of the proposal, but when you see how she looks at you, waiting, you realize you have no doubts. Jinx has made it clear in her own language: love is a dangerous game, but you want to play it by her side.

With a brilliant smile, you approach her, and between the lights, amid the roar, you whisper:

“Yes, Jinx. Yes, to this chaos. Yes, always.”

Vi

You’re lying on the couch, comfortable and relaxed, with your head resting on Vi’s legs. The soft sound of the city that never sleeps drifts in from the window, but inside the house, the silence feels cozy. Vi is sitting, her muscles tense but calm, with a thoughtful expression as she plays with your hair, something that always soothes you.

The warmth of her presence surrounds you, and for a moment, everything seems perfect. But something in the air changes. Vi’s relaxed demeanor begins to feel different, as if she’s holding something back. You realize that, for the first time, she’s not being the confident Vi, the one who always has everything under control.

“Are you okay?” you ask, lifting your head from her legs to look at her directly. Vi doesn’t answer right away, and her fingers stop moving through your hair. There’s uncertainty in her eyes, something you haven’t seen before.

She shifts, crosses her legs, but doesn’t seem as comfortable as usual. “You know... I’m not really good with these things,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “I’m always the one who throws punches and solves everything my way, but now...” Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment, avoiding eye contact.

You look at her, sensing that something important is about to come out of her mouth. On her face, that nervous grimace is a clear sign that she’s struggling with herself. Something’s going on, but she doesn’t know how to express it.

“What I mean is... I’ve never been good with words,” Vi continues, letting out a nervous laugh. “And I’m not one for grand gestures or fancy things. I’m not someone who can give you the best, like... you know, expensive jewelry or fancy places. But there’s something I know I want.”

Vi takes something from her pocket, and when you see it, a small ring appears between her fingers. It’s not shiny or flashy. It’s simple, made of metal with a rustic design, almost as if she made it herself. A small symbol of her effort and her love.

“This... isn’t much,” she says, looking at the ring with a slight embarrassment. “I got it with what I could save. It’s not perfect, but... I want it to be a symbol of who I am for you. Of everything we’ve been through together. And... I want us to be together. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, even if I’m not the best at this. Because, despite everything, I love you more than I can put into words.”

Vi looks at the ring like it’s a simple object, but in her eyes, you can see how much it means to her. Her insecurity is palpable, as if she’s waiting for the ring to not be enough. But you know that’s not what matters. You know it’s all she has to offer you, and that’s what makes this moment even more special.

You see her nervous, waiting for a response, and you can’t help but smile. You get up and stand in front of her, gently touching her hands, and when you look at her, the insecurity on her face melts away, though her voice is still a fearful whisper.

“Vi,” you say, with a sincere smile. “I don’t care about the ring, I don’t care about what you couldn’t give me. What matters is that you’ve shown me more love than I ever imagined. Yes, I want to marry you. Yes, I always want to be with you, by your side.”

Vi looks at you as if she can’t believe what she just heard. Her face lights up with a pure expression of relief and happiness. Even though the words aren’t perfect, everything this moment means is in her eyes. She lets out a nervous laugh and, without thinking, pulls you into a tight hug.

“I knew you’d say yes,” she whispers, but her voice is full of emotion. And you, amid the laughter and the embrace, know that despite everything that has happened, this moment couldn’t be more perfect.

Caitlyn

Night has fallen over Piltover, and the city lights shine with a golden glow, reflecting the majesty of the buildings and the life that has always characterized this city. Caitlyn has invited you to dinner at one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, an elegant place, tastefully decorated, where the panoramic view takes your breath away. The atmosphere is calm, yet filled with a sophisticated air. The murmurs of other diners do not interrupt the softness of the background music.

Caitlyn looks impeccable, as always, in her elegant dress that accentuates her delicate but strong features. The soft candlelight flickers on her face, highlighting the concentration in her eyes. From the moment you entered the restaurant, you could sense something in the air, but she is determined to maintain composure, even though her hands occasionally move restlessly over the table.

The dinner goes on as usual, with Caitlyn talking about her latest research advancements, her projects, and concerns about the future of Piltover. But even though the topic is important and her voice is firm, you can't help but notice the tension inside her. She drinks a bit more wine than she normally would, and from time to time, her fingers play with the glass as if she is seeking comfort.

"I've been waiting for this," she says suddenly, her eyes fixed on you, although her tone betrays her nervousness. "I don't know if I'm good at this, but I think... well, I need to be honest. I don't like hiding things, and this is important."

Your eyes meet hers, noticing how a slight blush begins to appear on her cheeks. Caitlyn, the woman who always has a logical answer for everything, now looks completely vulnerable. But it's not her nervousness that makes you smile; it's the way she looks at you, as if this moment is more important than any project or achievement.

Caitlyn sighs deeply and finally gets up from her chair, giving you a little spin around the table. You don't know if it's to calm herself or because she needs to distract her thoughts, but she approaches slowly, as if each step is a challenge. Her hands tremble slightly as she places them on the table, and you realize that something very important is about to happen.

"I know this isn't something I planned in the traditional way," she says, her voice soft but firm, "but... this is how I feel. And I want you to know." She lifts her hand, showing you a small ring, whose shine is subtle but radiant. It is a delicate ring, with a simple yet elegant design, of impeccable quality. And when you see it, you realize it's not just any jewel.

It's the ring her mother wore at her wedding, the same one Caitlyn had seen so many times, the one she had touched with so much love when she was a child. A symbol of tradition, of enduring love. A symbol of family.

"This is my mother's ring," Caitlyn says, almost whispering. "I know it's not a modern ring, nor expensive compared to what I could buy, but... it holds a very special meaning. For me, it means everything I want to offer you. My family, my love, my commitment. My promise that I'll always be by your side."

She looks at you, her eyes shining with emotion, as if it were the first time she showed something so intimate, so hers. There are no doubts in her gaze, only a deep certainty of what she's saying, but her voice remains soft, sincere.

"I love you," she says, with a clarity that reaches straight to your heart. "And I want you to be my partner in all of this, not just in the good moments, but in the difficult ones. Because, for me, there is no one else I want to be with. Only you."

Caitlyn places the ring in front of you, and for a moment, all the bustle of the restaurant disappears. Only the soft sound of her breath and the beating of your heart remain. You know what you have to do, but this moment feels so perfect, so genuine, that the words seem stuck in your throat. All you want to do is take her hand, look her in the eyes, and say yes.

Finally, your words come out with a wide smile. "Yes, Cait. Yes, I want to spend my life with you."

Caitlyn's eyes light up with a happiness that makes you feel as if everything is in its place, as if nothing else matters about what may come in the future. This moment, this commitment, is everything you both needed.

Caitlyn hugs you tightly, and the ring shines on your finger, a symbol of a pure and deep love, born from honesty, vulnerability, and sincerity from a woman who, despite her external perfection, has always been real with you.

Jayce

The day had been long and full of work, but Jayce, with his determined spirit, decided to surprise you. Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant or preparing something sophisticated, he had a much bolder idea—a homemade dinner. That made you smile immediately, knowing that Jayce wasn’t exactly an expert chef. But you didn’t care; the idea of sharing something so personal with him excited you more than any gourmet dinner.

When you entered the kitchen, you found him with an expression of total concentration, mixing ingredients in a way that left much to be desired, but you found it charming. He had made pasta, something simple, but it had surely cost him more effort than he wanted to admit.

"Surprise!" he said as he saw you approach. Although the dish wasn’t a culinary masterpiece, you sat with him, and despite the imperfections, you enjoyed every bite. The smile on his face as he watched you eat was enough to make everything seem perfect. And when, after a while of talking and laughing, you got up to go to the bathroom, he took the opportunity to open a special bottle of wine.

When you returned, the glass was ready, and seeing the wine in it and the label on the bottle, your eyes lit up with excitement. It was your favorite wine! You couldn’t stop smiling as you smelled it and took a small sip.

But then, suddenly, something wasn’t right. A strange piece caught in your throat made you cough hard. The wine spilled from your mouth as you tried to catch your breath, and in the midst of coughing, a strange sensation made you feel as if something was stuck there. In an instant, Jayce was by your side, looking at you with panic.

"What happened?! Are you okay?!"

With a quick maneuver, almost instinctively, Jayce patted your back and, with a racing heart, helped you spit out what was stuck in your throat. To both of your surprise, what came out was not just a piece of food, but a small ring now resting in your hand.

Jayce was in shock, looking at the ring and then at you, completely red with embarrassment. "Oh no! That wasn’t part of the plan! How did that get there? Everything has gone wrong... I’m sorry, I never imagined this would happen."

You laughed, almost hysterically, as you cleaned the ring with a napkin and held it in your palm. Despite the comical situation, Jayce was clearly frustrated. He wanted everything to be perfect, but you didn’t care. It was clear that all that mattered was that he was there, in front of you, despite the fiasco.

"Are you going to ask me or not?" you asked, the smile on your lips growing as you watched his face change from despair to disbelief.

Jayce looked at you, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He was nervous, completely out of place. "Really? Now…?" he asked, with a nervous laugh. But it didn’t take long for him to do what he had to do. With a shy but genuine smile, he knelt before you, somewhat clumsy but sincere, and with a nervous laugh, he said:

"Well… since it seems I can’t do anything right today, maybe this will be the one thing that goes well. Will you marry me?"

The scene, as clumsy as it was funny, made you laugh even more, but in the end, all that mattered was that he was there, in his own way, loving you. The ring, somewhat imperfect in all its disorder, represented more love than anyone could ask for. Without thinking any further, you took his face in your hands and kissed him tenderly, answering in the simplest yet most profound way possible:

"Yes, Jayce. I do."

Ekko

The Undercity held its own kind of magic. The faint lights of the streetlamps flickered through the mist, and the distant sounds of the markets blended with the steady flow of water running through the pipes. You were sitting on an improvised bench in a hidden corner, surrounded by the crumbling walls, but to you, this place felt like the very heart of the world. Ekko had made it a refuge for the two of you, a space where you could escape from the chaos and, for a moment, forget about everything else except the present.

There was something special about that night. The way Ekko looked at you, the spark in his eyes... it wasn’t like the times before. There was something deeper now, a sense of resolution, as if he was on the verge of making a decision that would change everything. And he did.

"You know," Ekko began, his voice more serious than usual, "I've been thinking a lot about things lately. About how everything we've lived through... everything we've overcome... has changed us." His words carried a weight they usually didn’t.

The conversation didn't seem to be heading towards a cheerful topic, but there was something in the air that told you what was coming was important. You leaned in a little closer, sensing that the atmosphere was charged with something.

He pulled a small device from his pocket, something that looked like an old piece of machinery, but upon closer inspection, you realized it was no ordinary gadget. It was a pocket watch, but not the kind you'd find in a store. This one was modified, a timepiece that seemed designed not only to measure time but also to control something else... something intangible, like destiny. It was something Ekko had built over the years, a reflection of his constant efforts to understand the flow of time.

"This watch," he said with a faint smile on his lips, "is a reminder. A reminder that even when things seem out of control, we can always find a way to move forward. Like us, always moving forward, no matter what comes our way."

He looked at you with a seriousness you’d never seen from him before, and for a moment, he fell silent, as if searching for the right words.

"And… what I’m trying to say is that, even though we don’t have control over time, even though we can’t stop what’s coming, I want you to keep walking by my side. Every second, every minute, every step."

Despite his usual relaxed demeanor, in that moment he seemed more vulnerable than ever. The watch he showed you wasn’t just a machine; it was a symbol of what he had been searching for his whole life: a way to stop time, so that the most important moments wouldn’t slip away.

"So, if at any point you feel the same way," he added, gently taking your hand, "I’d like this... what we’re living... to never end. That we can keep making memories together. I don’t know if there’s a right way to ask, but... would you like to be with me, always?"

He looked at you with a vulnerability you’d never seen before, almost as if afraid you might say something that would break the magic of the moment.

You couldn’t help but smile, at first as if you were in shock, speechless. This Ekko, the one who always had a plan, the one who had faced a thousand battles, was now asking you to be by his side forever, with a sincerity he rarely showed. It wasn’t a grand traditional gesture, but to you, it was even more meaningful.

You were silent for a few seconds, and that made Ekko feel even more unsure, his gaze beginning to fade as if he thought you had already decided not to answer. But before he could pull away or say anything more, you caught him, quickly closing the distance between you.

"Yes," you whispered, but it was a resounding yes. "Yes, Ekko, I want to be with you. Always. I don’t need a watch or a perfect plan. I just need you."

You held his hand more firmly, looking into his eyes, and his lips formed a slight smile, though his face still carried a trace of nervousness.

"Together, forever, babe," he said, pulling you close and resting your back against his chest. You smiled happily as his arms wrapped around you.

You took the watch and kissed it, feeling the cold scent of rusted metal.

"Forever," you replied, and that word felt like the beginning of something eternal.

Silco

It was another night when the soft light of candles flickered, casting shadows in the corners of the room. The atmosphere in Silco's office was charged with tension, as always, but tonight something felt different. The usual coldness of the room had transformed into something warmer. On the walls, shadows danced to the rhythm of the flames, and the scattered papers on his desk seemed to tell stories of past struggles and uncertain victories.

However, Silco wasn’t at his desk. He stood in the center of the room, silently watching you as you leaned against the door, returning his gaze. His presence was magnetic, as always, but there was something different about him tonight. Something more vulnerable in his stance, as if he had been waiting for you—or rather, waiting for you to understand what lay beneath those deep eyes.

“This is a different kind of night,” Silco spoke, his voice grave, deliberate, as if weighing each word. He motioned for you to come closer, but not to him—toward the far side of the room. A table, delicately designed, rested just beneath a window overlooking the chaotic landscape of the Undercity.

As you approached, you noticed several boxes on the table, some open, some closed. One wooden box caught your eye. Silco’s gaze hardened on it, almost as if he feared what might happen when it was opened, or perhaps what it represented. He moved toward it slowly, like someone executing a carefully planned act, and gently opened the box.

Inside lay a ring. It wasn’t the kind of ring you’d expect from someone like Silco—no extravagant jewels, no grand display of wealth. Yet, there was something profound about it. The fine, dark metalwork and the stone that caught the light in a way you couldn’t ignore seemed to tell a story. It was as if the ring itself embodied both the harshness of his life and the softness of feelings he had long kept hidden.

“This is the kind of thing I never cared for,” he said, his tone mixing toughness with an unexpected sincerity. “A symbol without meaning. But since you arrived, I’ve learned that there are things worth more than logic.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Silco showed a hint of insecurity. His gaze clouded for a moment, as if he feared your reaction. But instead of saying more, he stepped closer, the ring in his hand, and slowly sank to his knee before you.

“I’ve sacrificed so much, maybe that’s why I never let myself desire more. But now I know. I know because I want you. And because I don’t want to do this alone.”

There was no grand gesture, no theatrics, but the weight of sincerity in his simple act stunned you. He looked up at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, asking for something more than anyone had ever dared to ask before.

“Will you marry me?”

The silence in the room was thick, filled with everything Silco couldn’t say but what his proposal meant. It wasn’t a casual request—it was a serious commitment, as serious as everything he’d fought for in his life.

For a moment, you stood still, heart racing—not because of the surprise, but because of the sheer intensity of his words and the unexpected gesture. You had seen the calculating side of Silco, the way he controlled every aspect of his life, every decision with precision. But this—this was something entirely different. It was the purest form of vulnerability, someone willing to give it all up for love, to risk everything they’d built for someone who meant more than any achievement.

Finally, you took a deep breath and, with a soft smile, nodded. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “There is nothing I want more in this world than to be your wife.”

The air shifted instantly. Silco stood slowly, and his normally implacable face softened. It was as if he had laid down an immense weight, as if the future finally had a clear purpose.

Without another word, he pulled you into his arms. In that moment, the shadows in the room seemed lighter, less oppressive. With the promise of a future together, everything that had once seemed distant, unreachable, now felt within both your grasps.

Mel

It was a quiet night, one of those where the sounds of the city reached you muffled, as if time was willing to grant you a break. Mel's living room, as always, was a perfect display of elegance and order, but something about the atmosphere that night felt different, warmer, more intimate. The soft light from the lamps illuminated the carefully arranged furniture, and there was a rare calm in the air, something that only happened when the worries of the outside world seemed to vanish for a moment.

Mel had invited you to her house that night, but not for dinner or a formal event. Instead, she had wanted to show you something more, something personal. And seeing the invitation in her eyes, you knew this moment was special.

When you entered, the house had a more relaxed vibe than usual. The fireplace flickered softly in the background, and the air was filled with the delicate scent of incense. However, what truly caught your attention was what was in the center of the room. A large painting, a framed portrait, was leaning against the wall, carefully placed under a soft light.

"I want you to see this," Mel said with a slight smile, her usually firm voice now tinged with an unexpected sweetness. She approached you, guiding you toward the painting. Though her face didn’t give it away, there was a slight tension in her movements, as if she was waiting for your reaction.

You stepped closer to the portrait, and your breath caught as you saw the image in front of you. It was a portrait of you, painted with a level of detail that only someone like Mel could have achieved. Every line, every shadow seemed to capture something beyond your appearance: a reflection of your being, how she saw you. It wasn’t just a painting; it was an expression of how Mel perceived you, something that had been rendered with such dedication that the work itself seemed to come alive.

"It’s… incredible," you murmured, unable to articulate a more complete response. Mel watched your reaction, her eyes fixed on you, but without saying a word. You knew that, for her, this work meant far more than just a portrait. It was a piece of her soul, an extension of her deepest feelings.

"I did it because… because I wanted to capture something that could never be expressed just with words," Mel said, her tone calm but loaded with meaning. "It’s hard for me to share something so… personal, but with you, I feel like it makes sense."

You turned toward her, surprised by the vulnerability she was showing, so rare in the woman who had always kept everything under control. But there was something in her gaze, something in her posture, that made you see what she truly felt.

Mel took a step toward you, her gaze softening even further. "You are… the only person who has truly shown me what it means to let someone in so deeply. I’ve spent my whole life building walls, creating an image of control, but you… you’ve shown me something I didn’t even know I needed."

There was a softness in her words that you had never heard before. You knew her as a strong, calculating woman, always impeccable. But there, in that moment, in front of you, there was something more, something that only you had been able to awaken in her.

"And now I want you to… be part of my life. I want you not only to be part of this portrait, but of everything I’ve built. I’ve had all the power in the world, all the control I could wish for, but that doesn’t make sense without someone like you by my side."

Mel paused, almost as if she were fighting against herself, and then, with a smooth movement, extended her hand toward you. In her palm rested a small box, which she carefully opened, revealing a simple but elegant ring. It was beautiful but not ostentatious, with a unique beauty, a design that spoke of her personality: refined, but with a subtle touch of surprise. The golden ring glimmered softly under the candlelight, like a reflection of the same gentleness Mel had shown in her words.

"I want you to be my partner," Mel said, her voice a barely audible whisper, but filled with meaning. "Will you marry me?"

The moment was marked by a tense silence, loaded with emotion. Mel wasn’t seeking a grand declaration or an ostentatious proposal. She only wanted to share her life with you, in the way she knew how to do it: with a sincerity that only she could offer.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to her, took her face in your hands, and without saying another word, kissed her softly. The kiss wasn’t just a response to her proposal, but an affirmation of everything you shared, of everything that moment meant.

When you pulled away, her eyes were filled with something you had never seen before: vulnerability, hope, love. You took her hand, and with a warm smile, you said what she had been waiting to hear, what you both knew was true.

"Yes, Mel. Yes. I’ve always wanted this, to share all of this with you."

Mel smiled, her face lit by a deep emotion she had never shown before. Without saying another word, she hugged you, and in that embrace was everything she couldn’t say with words. The future, her promises, her fears, her desires. It was all there, intertwined in an embrace as warm as the painting she had created just for you.

Sevika

It had been a long and dangerous night, more than either of us had anticipated. You had gotten yourself into a mess, bigger than anyone else would have dared to handle, but there you were, beside Sevika, helping her get out of danger. There were a few of Silco's enemies, but with her strength and your ingenuity, you managed to make it all end in the blink of an eye. The tension eased, and calm washed over everything like a wave.

The air was charged with adrenaline, but also with a strange serenity when the two of you were finally away from danger. Sevika, with her impassive face and intense eyes, looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something more. You couldn’t say it was love at first sight or anything so romantic, but there was something about that moment that felt different, something raw, something real.

You stayed looking at her while both of you took a breath, your bodies still trembling slightly from the tension. She was so close you could feel her breath, as heavy and rhythmic as your own. Without warning, her eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the outside world disappeared. There were no more enemies, no more worries, just the two of you.

Sevika didn’t speak at first. The full moon illuminated the corner where you were, but it was her silence that spoke volumes. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her low voice cut through the air:

"Do you want to marry me?"

You stopped, surprised. Had she really said that? Or was it one of her usual jokes? It couldn’t have been more unexpected, could it? You laughed lightly, thinking it must have been a joke. But when you looked into her eyes, as serious as always, a knot formed in your stomach. Sevika wasn’t joking. Not this time.

"Just like that, out of the blue?" you asked, unable to suppress a smile of disbelief. It was as if all the chaos of the night hadn’t been enough to spill over into the unpredictability of her proposal.

She didn’t flinch, her lips curving into a slight smile, but her eyes stayed fixed on you, determined. "And why not? The best things come out of nowhere, don’t they?" she said with a tone that left no room for doubt. Her voice was strong, direct, but there was a softness hidden beneath her arrogance. Sevika had never been one for too many words, but the few she spoke always carried weight. As if nothing in her was accidental, and every decision she made was calculated down to the last detail.

She looked at you for a moment, evaluating you with the same intensity she always did, then added, "So, do you want to be my little, spoiled wife? I promise to put up with your snoring and you kicking me out of bed for all eternity." She joked, a low laugh escaping her chest, and you were a little surprised by the lightness in her tone, as if, in the seriousness of the situation, Sevika also needed to soften the moment in her own way.

Your reaction was automatic, more because of the teasing tone than the content of what she said. "Hey! I don’t snore that much!" you exclaimed, pretending to be offended, but the truth was, you couldn’t really be angry. You couldn’t be upset, because there was something about her that drew you in in a very unique way.

So, you decided to raise your right hand and move your ring finger. "No ring, no wedding," you warned, then flicked your hair in the air. "I’m not a girl who settles for little, and you know that."

Sevika approached you, never losing her smile. "Believe me, sweetheart, I’ll buy you the biggest, most expensive ring in the world. Tell me how many carats you want, and I’ll get it exactly how you ask for it." Her promise was full of a confidence only she could have. Every word sounded so convincing, so solid, that there was no room for doubt. Sevika never made empty promises, and this was no exception.

Her voice was deep, playful, as if she was willing to fulfill anything asked of her. You smiled, pleased, but something in her attitude sparked a mischievous glint in your eyes. Instead of continuing the joke, you went straight to the point and leaned close to her ear, whispering with a touch of playful innuendo:

"Since the best things come out of nowhere, why don’t we fast forward to the honeymoon?"

Your whisper was soft, but with an undertone of suggestion that didn’t go unnoticed. Sevika blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised by your response. But instead of being bothered, something on her face shifted, and a sideways smile appeared on her lips, as if you had pulled the idea right out of her head.

"I like that," she said, her tone now low and filled with palpable desire. "I love that you don’t beat around the bush." Her voice was hushed, heavy with desire, accentuated by how close she was to you. "Let’s make this night something much more... memorable."

Suddenly, the environment around you both ceased to exist. Only her eyes, the heat of her body near yours, and the certainty that, despite everything, something had begun in an unexpected way remained. The best things come out of nowhere, and tonight, Sevika had shown you that her way of loving, though fierce and daring, was also the most sincere you had ever known.

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun (FULL VERSION)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

(Warnings: forced relationship, implied nsfw content, implied noncon/dubcon, dark content, implied baby trapping)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But—but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

If Satoru is the Sun, then you must certainly be his universe, the plane in which he rests, because there would be no existence for him if not for you. 

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.2

christmas special

previous part next part

summary : Lando Norris’ teasing doesn’t stop on the slopes. With cold weather, bad skiing, lots of unwanted flirting (or at least that’s what lando thinks), and a soothing hot tub, another day in your new favorite christmas town is done.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : suggestive comments! dual pov! swearing! i’m starting to love this fr! comment to be on tag list <3

words : 3885

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Morning, Sunshine!” Lando Norris swings my door open, leaning against the door and smirking at me.

Max pops out behind him, “Time to hit the slopes!”

P is the third in my door frame, “Up and at ‘em!” I loudly groan and push my face back into my pillow. Fuck my weird friends and their urge to piss me off.

⋆༺

lando

P forces us all into a shop to look for hand warmers before we go on the slopes. I find a candy cane and pop it in my mouth while looking around mindlessly, not truly caring about the small things.

I find Y/n looking at the Christmas cards. I tug on her braid, her head dipping back as she yelps slightly. Turning to me with a stern look on her face she says, “Can’t you go bother Max for once?”

I grin, the candy between my teeth. “You’re so much nicer to look at though.” Her eyes roll and she turns back to the cards. I get closer, looking over her shoulder, “Late shopping?”

She eyes me, “Just looking.”

I hum to the Christmas music playing and reach over her shoulder to grab a card, “I like this one.”

She scoffs, looking at it with me, “Of course you do.” I laugh as I read the piece of paper.

It has a little Santa stuck in a chimney and reads, ‘I might not come down the chimney, but will surely go down on you.’

She does not find this as funny as me, but I still clock the smile on her face. She smells like cinnamon and peppermint, but that could also be my candy.

“What did you ask Mr Claus for christmas?” I ask her as she turns to face me fully.

“Definitely not dirty Christmas cards.” She scoffs, motioning to the others on the shelf, “My ex to stop calling me? My work to pay better? A trip to Paris?”

I raise a brow, “You know there’s a great little feature called ‘block’, right?” I only really heard the first thing she said. I joked about her ex but am not liking the sound of him calling her still.

She sighs, crossing her arms over her sweater, “What’d you ask for, then? A good start from pole?”

“Mmm, there’s my little comedian.” I feel like I'm in F1 twitter when I'm around her. Biting the end of my candy cane, I answer her question, “I asked for Someone to go down on.”

She lets out a genuine laugh, “You mean someone to go down on you?”

“No.” It’s quick because I mean it. Her brow raises slightly as I look her up and down before leaving her in the paper aisle. I’m serious too, but I left out the part that I’d hoped would be her.

“Bob!” Max says as I walk up to him and P, they’re staring at gloves. “Need your help mate, pink or yellow?”

“God I was better off with your sister.” I quickly turn, making my way back to Y/n.”

She’s still next to the cards, I see the back of her as I approach. But something’s… off. There’s a man I do not know, making her laugh…?

Fuck no.

I can’t see her face but I can see his, definitely not her type. Blonde, blue eyes, swedish? Who cares.

I switch my candy cane to the other side of my mouth, walking up with one hand in my pocket and an annoying smile on my face.

The guy sees me and his smile instantly fades. I stand behind Y/n again as I hear her sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re Lando Norris.”

I blink, pulling the candy cane out of my mouth and looking him dead in the eye, “I don’t know who that is.”

He says an awkward goodbye and just as I think Y/n is going to yell at me, she turns, laughing. “You’re an ass.”

Her laugh makes something inside of me warm, “Yeah, I know.”

Max and P pop into our aisle, “I chose yellow!” Max smiles as his eyes move between the two of us.

I step around her, getting far before Max senses anything, “Perfect bro, really your color.” Y/n says sarcastically as she follows me out.

P gives us both a look as I stare down the blonde one last time.

⋆༺

I’m snowboarding with P while Max and Y/n are Skiing. I try not to laugh at Y/n as she falls on her ass but It just comes out! I ended up halfway down the hill while halfway on my board after she pushed me.

The snow last night was perfect and Max and I cruised for some time after losing Y/n and P. “I’m calling P.” I say after they stopped responding to us.

It’s Y/n who answers. She sounds panicked, “Lando!?”

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” I look at Max who sees my face and gets just as nervous as me. I can hear her heavy breathing, “Hey, seriously, what is it?”

“P got hurt and we’re in the lodge and-” Max stops breathing as Y/n sniffles, “And you two are so fucked and tell Max he’s sleeping on the couch!” Her change in tone makes my heart slow and my eyes roll.

“So she’s fine?” I ask, a little sassy now.

“Yes you asshole! We’re getting hot chocolate because you two ditched us!” Max grabs the phone and starts yelling at his sister.

I can’t help but laugh at the scene unfold. Max starts walking away, carrying his board as I struggle to unlock my boots to go after him.

P is most definitely is fine, and Max is most definitely laying it on thick. “My love!” He hugs me from behind as she rolls her eyes, bringing her drink to her lips.

I slide a chair next to Y/n and lean close to her. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say anything, barely even moves.

“You’re evil, Sunshine.” I see the smirk on her face as her shoulders lift up and down softly.

“Not evil, just motivated.” The corner of my mouth lifts, something that’s out of my control when I'm this close to her.

P and Max giggling force me to look away from her and focus on the loving couple. P has her hand on his face as he stands behind her chair still, “Alright! Who’s up to hit the slopes?”

I keep learning more and more things about Y/n on this trip and today is no different. This woman cannot ski.

“Christ, Y/n!” Max yells at her from the top of the mountain. We all just watched Y/n fall on her face while getting off the ski lift. “Should I even trust you to go down this mountain alone?”

“Don’t worry Maxie!” I grin, slapping my hand on Y/n’s head, “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Right like you’re any better! If I leave her with you then she might just end up getting pranked on your instagram story.” P laughs at this.

“Why doesn’t she just chill on a bunny slope?”

“Um excuse me! I am not that bad! I can handle myself!” Right as she says this, she slips but catches herself, clearing her throat. “It’s fine.”

Besides my slight concern for Y/n slowly following behind us, it’s a great day on the slopes. None of us are experts so we keep it chill and fun. Plus I know i’ll be sore if I do too much.

P races me to the bottom for the third time and just when I'm about to tap out, I see some guy talking to Y/n. Her gloves and goggles are off and I'm so distracted that I almost get knocked over by Max trying to stop.

Max and I are both about to walk over to her but P stops us in our tracks, holding us by the hoods of our jackets. “You two are the absolute worst, she does not need this right now!”

“I’m not letting her have some holiday fling after her heart was ripped out by that idiot!” Interesting reaction from Max.

He’s always been passionate about his sister's safety and has not once liked any boyfriend. But this is new and a bit threatening.

“You don’t have to ‘let’ her do anything! She’s a grown woman who’s pissed off and deserves a good man.”

“Like he’s a good man?” I mumble, watching the guy bite his lip and flip back his stupid fluffy hair that falls in his eyes.

I can feel P staring at me. “Both of you shut up and go get in line for the lift.” Y/n turns back to us, clearing seeing us watching and looking away quickly.

She excuses herself, blushing a bit and it’s definitely not from the cold. I know there’s a disgusted expression on my face and I don’t even try to change it.

I know she’s pretty.

Scratch that, she’s beautiful. Like actually the sort of stunning that makes her feel like a magnet. I know this about her! I tell her often.

But I do forget that she actually is seen by everyone else around us. I see the turning heads, the guys going up to her, I've just chosen to ignore it. Twice in one day is a little too much for our wholesome Christmas week though.

Maybe it’s too much for me because I hate every man that even looks her way.

P breaks the silence, “He was cute.”

Max groans at his girlfriend's comment, “Don’t encourage her!”

“Chill out! He was way too old.” Max looks shocked that this is his only flaw, “And i’m spending christmas with you guys blah blah blah, come on! I’m ready to ski again.”

Max drops a glove off the ski lift and we fall back into our usual friendship banter. I do love my friends, even if Y/n won’t admit she likes me in the slightest.

I laugh the whole way down the snow, racing all three of my friends as Max tries to sabotage his sister.

“I’ll eat your fucking gingerbread house, Max!” Is Y/n’s threat to her brother as she zooms past me.

The Fewtrells are very serious when it comes to gingerbread.

I slow and grab some snow to throw at Max, I unfortunately miss him and hit P.

The blonde screams at the snow stuck on her goggles and beanie, “Oh you’re gonna get it-” I'm suddenly being chased by an angry girl in all pink.

I can hear Y/n laughing as Max almost gets taken out by a kid going faster than all three of us combined.

We all have a smooth run, and just when I actually believe that Y/n may be getting better, I'm shocked once more at her clumsiness.

She was ready to Ski again! She was not ready to be back on flat ground.

In fact, as soon as we start to move back to the ski lift, she twists her ankle.

“I’m fine!” She fights me, pulling her mask back up over her nose so I can’t see her facial expression.

“Lovely you’re clearly in pain.” P pulls off her goggles as Max asks for directions.

“I’m fine! Let’s go again.” When she starts to move forward, she winces. Max yells at her which makes her more upset and P more distressed.

“It’s probably just a sprain, let’s go to the medic.”

“No!” Y/n fights me again as she argues with Max and a very worried P, “I’m seriously f-”

If I hear her say ‘fine’ one more time, I might cut my ears off. She’s over my shoulder in an instant, her skis clicked off and in Max’s hands now. She hits my back but I can barely feel it through my layers.

“Let me down you cunt!” I’ve had Y/n on me far more times this trip than I expected.

“There’s that sunny personality I know and love.” I mumble as I maneuver my way through the crowd, smiling at the people who give me weird looks for having a screaming girl over my shoulder.

The medic area is small and already taken up by three crying kids. The look that Y/n gives me when I set her down might just be enough to catch me on fire.

I pull her goggles off her face as Max and P explain what happened and repeatedly explaining that she wasn’t actually skiing when she got hurt.

I wipe the snow off and smile at her pouty expression, “How much does it hurt?” I’m squatting in front of her as she’s sitting on a small bench.

She argues immediately, “Not even-” I unclip her boot and she makes a noise that is nowhere near pleasant.

“Tell the truth, sunshine.” something in her face changes when I say the nickname i’ve had for her since childhood. I don’t get to dwell on it because a woman in red and white smiles at us as she approaches.

Max and Y/n argue so much that we both get kicked into the hallway. I pull my beanie off and shake out my hair, “I know I get mad at you a lot.”

I raise a brow at my friend, one that’s rarely serious.

“But I do appreciate you caring for Y/n. Even when she’s a pain-”

“I can hear you!” Y/n tells from the room as I let out a dry laugh.

I whisper, “Just wanna keep that christmas spirit up.”

He narrows his eyes a bit, mumbling, “Right…”

⋆༺

Turns out, Y/n is fine. A bit sore but comfortably on Max’s back as we look at the reindeers, “Shit this really is a Christmas hallmark town.” Y/n says as P laughs at the creatures.

“I always thought reindeers were fake.” Max frowns as it eats a carrot from his hand hesitantly.

“What’s hallmark?” I say innocently. Little did I know I would be attacked by the three people standing next to me.

“Oh mate…” Max shakes his head, “You’re so single and it’s so obvious.”

P sighs, “And uncultured! We need to have a movie night.”

“It’s only the best TV Christmas program ever! There’s a million movies and they all loosely follow the same plot line with a couple of opposites and a small town and a failing business and an old man with a white beard who might be santa.

I laugh at them, “The fuck…? I have to watch now.”

“Not tonight!” P groans. It’s already pretty late, we grabbed dinner and are now walking through the town.

“Or tomorrow!” Max shrugs, “P and I are going out, date night!” Y/n’s jaw drops at this while I smile. “Please don’t kill my friend while we’re gone.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, still on Max’s back, “No promises.”

“Let’s get back.” I shiver, “P looks like she’s about to snap in half.”

She glares at me, “You’re the one whose teeth are chattering!”

⋆༺

you

“My whole fucking body hurts.” I groan as we walk into the house, the warmth comforting me instantly. Max throws the keys into the catch all and yawns.

P is practically asleep next to Max and Lando is not even out of the car yet, “I think I'm just gonna go up.” She hums, her eyes already closed.

“No!” I frown, pulling off my puffer, “Come in the jacuzzi with me, i’ll bring wine!”

She shakes her head, “Sorry, Y/n. I’m wiped.”

“Max?” I look to my brother as he brings his arm under his girlfriend to hold her up. He’s looking at her with such love even as she’s half asleep and practically drooling. “Whatever. I might snap in half if I don’t go in.”

I say goodnight to Max and P as I walk up the stairs alone. He was quiet the whole ride home which was definitely new but not unwelcome.

I change as quickly as possible into a brown bikini and wander into the cold with my uggs and a towel. The jacuzzi is already hot and soothes my aching legs and back.

I take in the cool air against my face and look up to the dark sky. It's absolutely covered in stars, the moon is most definitely the focal point.

I switch the jets on and close my eyes, breathing in slowly. Today was chaotic and all I needed was a good soak and some quiet.

As soon as I sink deeper into the water, the door creaks open and Lando appears. He’s listening to music and pauses when he sees me, pulling off his headphones.

“Oh.” Is all he says.

He steps into the jacuzzi, his arms bracing himself as he slowly sinks into the water. I can see every muscle in his body and am trying to hide the feeling I get as he lets out a moan. He sucks in a breath and leans his head back, his adam's apple bobbing as he sits down in the hot water.

“Shit that feels good.” His voice sounds tired and content with the steam.

I’m almost speechless at his casual display of what, to me, is deeply sexual. Then again, a lot of things Lando does are sexual.

“How’s the ankle?” he asks.

I cringe at the memory of us on the mountain, “Better.” I know he came here because he knew I would be. I sigh, “My legs hurt.”

“Want a massage?” His grin is promptly back on his face, cheeky as ever.

“Max is gonna beat your ass someday.” It’s true, the amount of times he’s yelled or thrown something at Lando because of his remarks is astounding. And hilarious.

He swings his arms around the sides of the hot tub, “I’d like to see him try.” He sounds cocky just saying it.

I sigh, looking out at the land beyond our house, “So would I, trust me.”

He sinks his arms back down in the water, “Oh please, don’t pretend you don’t like my teasing.”

“I hate it.” I say it to his face, a face that looks unconvinced as he dips under. He comes back up, wiping his face and pushing his curls out of the way.

He changes the subject and floats around a bit, “I thought you knew how to ski.”

I swear his sole purpose in life is to aggravate me! He’s sitting across from me, looking all innocent with those green fucking eyes that I can see even in the shitty light.

When I don’t answer, he turns and rolls his shoulders back. My eyes trail down his back… until his voice rings out again.

“Stop checking me out and come here.” I don’t know why I do it, there’s just something about his tone that urges me to float across the hot tub and rest my arms on the side.

“I got Max a present… but I don’t know if he’ll like it.” I raise a brow at Lando’s soft words.

“Um… what is it?”

He turns around so we’re facing opposite ways, my knees resting against the all around seat, “I can’t tell you.”

I sigh and lean my head against my arms, “Well how am I supposed to help then?”

“Ask Max what he wants.”

I roll my eyes, “He said he wants the Mclaren championship and that sort of happened so…”

Lando smiles at this, sighing softly and looking at me, “Well, what are you getting him?” His eyes are so sincere, one of the few times he isn’t flirting or teasing me. He must catch my odd pause because he furrows his brows, “You okay, Sunshine?”

I look back at the trees, “Stop calling me that.”

“I have other nicknames I'd be happy to use.” I can hear the smirk in his voice as I rub my eye and bite back a smile. I hate when he makes me laugh.

“So do I. They're all race related, sure you’d like to hear?” It’s like my words go completely over his head, his eyes go soft.

“You watch my races?”

I roll my eyes again, “That’s what you got from that?”

He scoots closer, teasing, “You watch my races!”

“I watch F1 races!” I retort, “Don’t act all high and mighty, you’re definitely not my favorite driver.”

“Who the fuck is your favorite then?”

I shrug, egging him on a bit, “Oscar and Lewis.” I can see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Nuh uh. I saw you on Max’s stream wearing my merch once!”

I scoff, “Once! I was cold and he gave me your hoodie. Apparently I can’t wear anything of Max's so I had no choice.”

“I knew he was my friend for a reason!” He acts like his life goal was finally figured out before smiling softly, “You looked good in it.”

I eye him solely because I know he’s watching me and I won’t give him the chance to not be intimidated, “I look good in a lot of things.”

His eyes rake down body, or at least as much as he can see with the jets still on. “I know.” I feel sick, but not nauseous, more like butterflies.

With one last smile, Lando tilts his head back and looks up at the sky. My ears are cold but I could care less. I feel weirdly at peace, even with the man who won’t stop bugging me.

His nose is red and It feels oddly endearing. I tear my eyes away from Lando and back to the snow that’s started slowly falling over us.

There’s a quietness here, one you don’t get in the city. I can hear Lando breathing and music far in the distance.

I don’t realize he’s staring at me until my eyes find his again. How long has he been watching me?

“Stop that.” I say quickly.

His head tilts back ever so slightly, a curl in his face and the corner of his lip turning upwards, “Stop what?” He blinks, as if he’s the most innocent man in the world.

I motion towards him and breathe out, “Thinking…”

“What do you reckon I'm thinking, Sunshine?” He’s making me angry and I don’t even know why.

“Nothing good…” I whisper it, It feels illegal to say it any louder than that.

His eyes flick to my lips, his nose scrunching a bit just as my heart starts beating faster, “It’s good. It’s about you.”

I hum, stretching my arms out in front of me, not caring about the cold against my fingertips, “I figured, you seem to have that theme often.”

He laughs at this, shaking out his hair and standing. I watch his toned body leave me in the water all alone. The heat is the exact same yet I feel much colder without him.

Lando grabs his towel, wiping off, not looking at me.

“You're not gonna tell me?” I can’t help but say it fast to get it over with.

He looks back, wiping his chest and shrugging, “Maybe later.”

[dilf-issues]

Vanilla | C.M

Requested by Anon: hey dunno you take requests but since your writing is so hot , I'm willing to ask if you consider writing about roleplaying with Cillian and his wife or gf to break the dull routine they were stuck into , the way he suggested that to her being embarrassed and the sweet moments they ditch the characters in bed. He could bring his characters *cough cough * Tommy shelby. Thank you x

Synopsis: In which your boyfriend, Cillian, finds out you’ve been reading erotic fiction about his character in the Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby. Cillian shows you how much of a great actor he is.

Warnings: Age gap, the reader is in her 20s and Cillian is in his 40s. Roleplaying, extremely rough sex, dumbification, degradation, face slapping, spitting, pussy spanking, oral sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, and a little cnc. THIS IS KIND OF DARK SO BE WARNED. Everything is consented it’s just that... Cillian’s gonna be rough, like ROUGH

.

Cillian had been busy. He had an upcoming new season this year and his schedule was packed. You haven’t spent time with him in quite some time now. He constantly apologized for not giving you enough attention and promised to make it up to you.

He decided to fulfill this promise.

Since he was the main character in his series ‘Peaky Blinders’, he did have massive privilege in the production. He had never done it before since he had been such a dedicated person to work with, however, he felt like he should sacrifice his work just for you. He wanted to spend the time with you, maybe have some dinner together at a nice restaurant. Just the usual things the both of you would do. Every time he had some free time he would do some nice things for you, treat you like a princess.

He came home from work that day, he got permission to take the week off and he even got back early from set. He wanted to surprise you, he had a flower in his hands a box of your favorite soft cookies. It was all so perfect.

When he came home, he saw that the first floor was empty and there were no signs of you anywhere. He went upstairs since he reckoned you were in the bedroom, probably taking a nap or reading a book.

Cillian was so happy. He was a man who barely showed any emotions in public but with you, it was different. He had a wide smile on his face, ready to surprise you but when he opened the door, he didn’t see you on the bed.

Instead, he heard the shower running and so he hummed to himself, setting the gifts down as he sat on the bed to wait for you.

As he patiently waited, he noticed your phone was still on. You were the type of person to let the screen go on forever instead of turning it off every 3 minutes like him. He glanced absentmindedly as he saw you were reading some sort of story on your phone. His actions were harmless, he just wanted to see what you were reading.

His eyes skimmed through the words as his blood runs cold.

‘Tommy had me bent over his desk, ass red and swollen from all the beatings. My pussy was leaking down onto the expensive wood, desperate for his cock to ram inside me.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, I need your cock!” I plead like a good whore as he growled.

“You are nothing but a filthy cocksleeve”

Tommy? Shelby? His Tommy Shelby? The character that he played?

It seemed like all of the blood started circulating to his face as he flushed at the filthy thing he had just read. Y/N? His sweet Y/N was reading something like that?

Cillian couldn’t believe it because someone as young and pure as he would never be this dirty. Because of their age gap, he saw her as someone that he needed to protect, shield from the rest of the goddamned world. His fragile little princess that he wouldn’t dare to inflict even a slight force in fear that she might break and shatter into pieces.

The sound of the shower became silent and it interrupted his thoughts, he quickly placed her phone where it belonged as he stood up and smoothened the spot on the bed where he sat to make it seem like he just came in.

When you had walked out, it took you a moment to notice Cillian standing there with your gifts but when you did, you gave him a small scream as you ran towards him, your figure wearing nothing but a small towel.

“Cillian?! You’re back? You brought me gifts!” You exclaimed as her wet body embraced him in a hug. Cillian was somewhat still blank from what he was reading earlier.

‘If she had liked that kinda stuff so much he could push her on the bed and beat her ass right now’

His eyes widened at his own thoughts as he tried to push them away, “Yes princess, I thought maybe I haven’t been paying attention to you now have I? I’m all yours for the week, baby”

You pouted as you nodded at him, and then he realized how submissive-looking you were. You had always had a demeanor of what he would expect someone much younger than him to have, however, Cillian was starting to look at it in a new light.

It doesn't help the fact that he still has his Thomas Shelby haircut for the filming.

It also doesn’t help she was almost naked in front of him, he hadn’t fucked her in weeks. It’s almost fitting.

Maybe doing something about it wouldn’t hurt now would it?

Oh... But it’s definitely gonna hurt you...

Cillian watched closely as the girl before him admired his gifts for her in awe. His eyes became more and more lusted as he figured out a way to approach you.

“Love, can I ask you a question?”

You hummed at him innocently as she raised her brows at him, “Anything, Cill...”

“What have you been reading on your phone, hmm?” Her eyes widened slightly as her heart started to pound in her chest. Cillian was looking at her so intensely that it was slightly scary. She didn’t know if she should lie, or if she should tell him the truth. However, since he had asked... It was obvious he knew the truth.

“Cillian I can explain” You sputtered, panicking on the inside as Cillian started closing whatever gap that both of you had, he was looking down on you in a way he had never done before. You felt the chill run down your spine as you felt the back of your knees hitting the bed.

“Explain” He commanded.

“It’s just... You know I love you and you know I should be honest to you no matter what. But... I just... We haven’t been together in a long time lately and even when we do... It’s always the same...” You felt guilty saying this to him, it’s not like he was bad at sex. He was great. However, you were getting bored with the same soft and loving sex you two always had. “I just... I hope you can be a little rougher, that’s all. You’ve always been... So soft”

“Soft... Hm?” He tilted his head to the side as he stared at you almost mockingly, “Be careful of what you wish for, love”

You had felt your heart stop when Cillian’s smooth Irish accent suddenly turned into the dark Brummie accent you had always heard about on the TV. The one you had always touched yourself to when he wasn’t around.

Then out of nowhere, Cillian had roughly pushed you on the bed as you fell down and whimpered softly. He pulled off the towel on your body as you were left naked, “C-Cillian!”

“Who the fuck is Cillian, eh? Have you been fucking whoring yourself out to another man?” Cillian cursed at you as he quickly took his clothes off, “You’re my whore. You’re mine to fuck, you got it?”

Then you can physically feel your gears shifting in your brain, “T-Tommy?”

Your body shivered as you felt yourself getting wet, you were all naked and you were ready for him. You felt your legs spread instinctively as you heard him laugh, “You really are such a desperate fucking cunt, eh?”

‘Tommy’ had bent down as he gripped your face by the cheeks and roughly shook your head, “Who do you belong to? Who do you fucking belong to?”

“Y-You Cill-Tommy! I belong to you!” Tommy smirked, as his hands traveled down to your navel, teasing you as he drew figures on the skin, making you whine, “Open your fucking mouth you dirty whore”

You wasted no time opening your mouth for him, wide with your tongue out. Suddenly, he did the unexpected when he spat in your mouth, “Fucking swallow it, princess”

You swallowed his spit like a good girl as you held out your tongue to show to him, suddenly seeking his praise and validation however it never came. Tommy just hummed as he let go of your face harshly, almost slamming your head onto the plush bedding.

Characters aside, Cillian was never like this. Throughout the year of your relationship, he had always been gentle and kind, treating you like a soft feather and taking care of you. Maybe because it was because he was much older he had felt like he needed to treat you gently. You never realized Cillian had this side to him. He had always had this side, you just never awaken it.

“Spread your legs wider” He commanded, his voice dark as his character, you listened to him, eager to show him you were his good girl as he hummed looking down at the glistening flesh in between your legs. You were so wet it had dripped down and leaked onto the bedsheet. Without a warning, Tommy gives a hard slap to your cunt and you screamed out. You thought he was doing it once but it seems like it came over and over again, beating your swollen pussy and clit until it was throbbing and red. You cried out of pleasure and pain, as you begged him. You didn’t know what you were begging for but it was sure not for him to stop.

“You fucking like this don’t you? Fucking hell, look at you. You’re fucking wet, you like getting fucking beaten and bruised huh? What a fucking whore. You are nothing. You are only good for fucking, you are only here to fuck. Remember that, you fucking cunt”

Tears were flowing down and you were desperate you were so desperate for his cock. After each word, Tommy spat on your body, leaving you all wet and filthy combined with your own sweat and arousal.

“P-Please! P-Please, fuck me, Tommy! Please I need your cock. Please I want your cum. I need it inside me!” You pleaded like a whore as he slapped your face. You moaned out as his hand traveled down your neck and choked it just enough to make you feel the air around you restricting. “Tommy, I can’t, I need your cock”

He scoffed, pulling down his pants as whipped out his cock. It was so hard to the point where it became purplish-red, the veins covering the base as the head leaked with pre-cum.

“You want my cock?” He lined up his tip on your vagina, “You fucking get it you cocksleeve”

Without giving you a warning and time to adjust, Tommy slammed his cock inside your cunt and he wasted no time ramming into you roughly. Not like you needed time to adjust since you were sopping wet. All you can do is choke out his name and moans as he grunts with each slam.

His pace was rough and deep and for someone like hin with his age, he had the stamina to go on and on fucking you so rough till you can feel him ramming in your stomach.

No words could even cum out of your mouth as your eyes rolled back as he fucks you braindead.

Spit drooling at the side of your mouth as you babble like a cock hungry whore underneath him.

“I’m gonna fucking cum and you’re gonna take it. You’re gonna fucking carry my babies, and even then it is not gonna stop me from fucking you stupid”

You could feel him twitching as his thrusts were getting sloppier and sloppier, you could also feel your orgasm coiling in your tummy as you cried out once you let it all go, the liquid splashing all over the both of you as you squirt on his dick.

You were heavily overstimulated and you screamed as Tommy fucked the cum out of him.

The warm seed spilled inside your walls as he grunted in pleasure, leaning down as he bit your neck and drew blood to the surface.

Tommy looked at you all fucked out, eyes still rolling at the back of your head as you continue to babble nonsense to nothing.

He breathes heavily as he lays down beside you, carefully moving your body to cuddle up to him.

“Like I said, my love... Be careful of what you wished for”

[biteyoubiteme]

redlightdesign

fem!reader x hyunjin 

synopsis: you get tattooed by your favorite tattoo artist. 

warnings: !!!🔞!!! tattooartist!hyunjin, tattooing, needles, pain, oral (f!rec), use of teeth, overstim, multiple orgasms (f!rec), squirting, fingering, pussydrunkvibes, subspace kinda, prob forgot some sorry 

wc: 5.2k

an: I want a new tattoo </3 feedback appreciated! [m.list] not proof read sorry ;-;

You didn’t think you would ever get a consolation let alone an appointment with redlightdesign. For over three years you have been submitting a request anytime their books were open. You set timers for when the form dropped to make sure you were one of the first to be seen but everyone was doing the exact same thing. 

redlightdesign would make an announcement that the submissions were closed an hour later saying they were booked solid for the next three months. The process repeats itself and every time you pray you get a response. 

Thirteen forms later and you finally got an answer. Your dream tattoo will be underway in a matter of weeks. You made sure to keep the perfect space open for the piece. Not a single artist is the right fit to do your idea justice the way Redlightdesign could. 

Before you read the email you didn’t even think you would ever be picked, your thigh would just always be bare for the possibility that never would come to fruition. But sitting in a coffee shop on a Sunday morning avoiding finishing your homework for Monday's class you jump on the opportunity to check your phone when it dings. Post notifications for redlightdesign on since you started following them. Every time they announced open books or a dropped appointment you jumped to put yourself up for the running. You remember the magazine article Redlightdsign had been featured in that started your obsession. The anonymous tattoo artist is based in Seattle and New York, traveling across the states to get a wider audience. Not that they needed the help, they were globally known, with people submitting forms all around the world, purchasing plane tickets after they confirmed an appointment. 

It was stiff competition and the anonymity of the artist was sacred to each client. There was barely any information about Redlightdesign on the internet besides the finished product, and the address to their studios was only given out just before your appointment. Once the details of the New York studio had been doxxed online and redlightdesign had stopped working for a year, packing up and shutting down in well deserved retaliation. When they came back to their socials they made it clear the next time they wouldn't stop for a year but quit entirely. No one shared any information after, only stating that Redlightdesign was one of the nicest people they have ever been tattooed by and a photo of the beautiful work after. 

But there sipping on an almost empty drink avoiding work that needed to be done you felt your pulse race just like every other time you've submitted a form. Only this time your stomach bottomed out seeing the email that popped up in your inbox a few minutes later. 

h.rldesign/gmail.com Hi, I love your idea and sketches. I think this would transfer perfectly in my style. If we are to do the piece on the thigh at the size you want I think it's best we split the work into two appointments. My open slots for this would be January 9th and 10th. Let me know if these dates work for you and then I can get started on designing and cleaning up your idea. -redlightdesign 

even just knowing their email address was shocking enough, seeing a response could have sent you into a coma. If Redlightdesign needed you on the 9th and 10th you would do everything in your power to be right at their door. You didn't care if you had to call in sick, you would put on the most convincing fake cough known to man; you would sell out stadiums with the performance if need be. 

You couldn't type a response fast enough, needing to send in a confirmation just to know it was solidified. Within seconds you got a link for a deposit to hold the dates and a promise that Redlightdesign would be working on your piece asap. You were too excited to even think about your work anymore, sitting in the coffee shop staring down at your phone in disbelief. 

It was only a few days later when the first drafts of the tattoo you would be getting were sent over for you to approve. You could tell the work had been drawn in a sketchbook and scanned to send in an email, the charcoal lines and highlights showing the detailed work. It was everything you could have hoped for, redlightdesign taking the amateur rendering of your idea and turning it into the masterpiece sitting in your inbox. They promised to have perfected versions ready when you arrived early on the ninth, reminding you that they would transfer it into the stencil and use a pen to finish drawing the finishing touches to make sure it flowed with your body just right. Make sure to eat before the appointment and don't wear any lotions on the tattoo area. Take care to remember we can take as many breaks as you want you have the day booked up with me so no need to rush through just to get it over with. 

You made sure to dress appropriately. A pair of shorts you didn’t mind getting ink on in case any decided to ruin them. It was cold the morning of the ninth, a drizzle setting in as you made your way towards the address you had been sent before you had woken up. Even just seeing the street name and knowing this whole time you’ve been a fifteen-minute walk away from Redlights studio was bizarre. How many times have you driven by the building without ever knowing? 

The email with the address had said the door would be open and to take the stairs up to the loft. The separate space on the ground level was a bakery, the sign flipped to closed. But as you felt the first droplets of rain you pulled on the handle for the door only for it to not budge. You check the address again to make sure it is right, you can see the windows to the studio above but the curtains are pulled shut. You were running over the email you could send to redlightdesign, reading it over once more when someone reached past you making you jump. “holy shit you almost gave me a heart attack,” you breathe your phone pressed to your chest. 

The soft laugh of the person beside you is muffled behind the black medical mask they wear, long dark hair hanging on their brow leaving only smiling eyes glancing over you. “I'm sorry I was running late and didn't make it in time to beat you here,” they push their key into the lock twisting until it clicks, painted nails wrapping around the handle to hold the door open for you. 

You give a weak thanks stepping into the little hallway leading to the stairs waiting for them to step in and follow. 

You're trying hard not to make it seem like you're staring at them but it's almost impossible not to. Right in front of you is the person whose identity has been hidden from the public for years. You've tried to imagine what redlightdesign looked like since you read that magazine article. Now with the early morning mist still stuck to their hair you were seconds away from knowing exactly what they were like. Watching how their long fingers flipped over the keys looking for the one to unlock the loft door, how they used their shoulder to push open the door turning back to give you smiling eyes, waving you in. 

They moved around to pull open the long cream-colored curtains, the gray light pouring in revealing the space. The walls have tacked up charcoal drawings, painted landscapes, and oil pastel flowers. A worn brown leather couch pushed to one side, heavy white blanket pushed back like someone had taken a nap there against the throw pillows. Tattoo bed next to rows of inks and past designs. On another wall a cluster of polaroids, stepping closer you can see its every tattoo that redlightdesign has done here. You're excited to see ones they haven't posted on their socials, so distracted you don't hear a closet door opening and the wheeling of a cart behind you. “I wanted to be set up so we could get started right away but,” when you turn you see them shrug. The view outside of the waterfront off in the distance matches some of the paintings done during different times of the day. 

“It's okay I can wait, we're booked all day right?” 

“yes that's right,” they go through their bag pulling out a large sketchbook, “here take a seat and we can go over some of these together,” 

they sink into the couch pushing back the blanket to make room for you to follow. Your thighs touching before they hand over the sketchbook. You're amazed by the craftsmanship, and the detail put into each variety of the tattoo idea you have given them. No other artist has given you so many possibilities, maybe one of two but a whole spread dedicated to small details was never on the table. redlightdesign had taken time working through this with passion. “Wow,” you breathe not knowing where to look first. 

“do you like it? It's a big thing, a tattoo of this size, and I wanted to make sure it really had all the elements you wanted in it while also not being too chaotic and messy. You see this one has less shading and seems more open but this one is heavy-handed if you're into that kinda style. I see you have other work done on your arms and if you want to go that way style-wise I think this one would be perfect,” they point at the one you've been focused on knowing that it was exactly what you wanted. 

“It's amazing, they all are, I'm so impressed redli-“

“Hyunjin, you can call me Hyunjin,” they chuckle, “I should have introduced myself earlier but I was late and it slipped my mind I'm sorry,” 

“no, it's okay thank you hyunjin,” you try the name in your mouth, “I think this is exactly what I want, better than what I could have imagined,” 

“great I'm happy to impress let me get this printed in a stencil and we can add anything else after we find the right placement,” you watch as they stand moving to the corner with a desk, you can't see their face but know they've taken their mask off as they turn on the printer. “Do you live around here or was it a commute?” 

“oh I live right up the street, I was surprised to see how close it was to my place actually,” you say over the sound of the scanner. 

“that's good, sometimes I have people coming from all over it's fun to finally have a local visit,” 

“I would have come out to New York if that's where you would have been,” you admit. 

“I haven't been out there in a while, they are doing construction on the street the studio is on so I've been located here for a while now,” he states pulling out the stencil sheet. “I did a few different sizes to start with,” 

he turns around and you're shocked at how beautiful Hyunjin is. In all the time you've thought about redlightdesign never did it cross your mind to account for prettiness but if you did your scale would be broken. You're still seated when he comes over and kneels in front of you. 

“Can I?” he asks looking up at you, your hands in your lap covering your thighs.

“oh yeah sure,” you're flustered lifting your hands away. 

“left or right?” he asks, holding two of the stencils over each leg. 

“right,” your hands sinking into the couch as Hyunjin wipes his thumb over your bare thigh. He shows you the three different sizes and you decide on one before he asks you to stand in front of the mirror so he can place the stencil on. 

“Here,” he mutters, being gentle to get the placement right in the first go. “We can always print more if you don't like it here,” he blows cool air over the purple lines traced on to make sure it's dry enough for you to move. He slides his hand behind the pit of your knee tugging your leg. You reach out to steady yourself with his shoulders, the backs of your hands feeling the tickle of his long hair hanging past his ears. He lifts your leg enough so that your foot is resting on his thigh, his hands slipping over your skin checking it looks good. 

You love the way he's found the perfect spot on your thigh so that it flows with your body, “I think you got it first try,” 

“Look in the mirror first just to make sure,” he lets you go, pulling himself to stand behind you so that you can see yourself. 

“yes it's perfect,” and he nods, grabbing a purple pen. 

“finishing touches then,” he gets back down in front of you lifting your foot back to his knee so that he can steady you. The marker is cold on your skin as he draws, adding lines and shading in spots to make the work blend better. When he blows on the wet lines of ink you shiver especially when he draws on your inner thigh, your skin so sensitive you swear you could imagine his fingers tracing shapes instead of the pen. “Perfect,” he states, giving your knee a tap letting you know he's done. “Let me set up and if you need the bathroom before we start I'd go now. I have water and a kettle for coffee over under the desk, and we can stop for lunch around let's say twelve or one-ish?” 

You nod, taking your seat on the tattoo bed. He's set it up so that you're slightly leaned back but still sitting up. You watch him pull on black gloves and get all of the inks and needles ready, following a system you've seen done before. He clicks on a stereo the soft song playing in the background just loud enough for us to talk if we wanted to or just to listen. you adjust in your seat when you hear the sound of the tattoo gun whirring, hyunjins free hand stretching your skin in preparation, “The hard part will be around the knee so let's get that area out of the way,” 

you nod watching as he starts, the familiar burn of the needle digging in but not too painfully. He was right that it was worse than some of your other tattoos but not unbearable. What distracts you is how concentrated he looks leaning over your leg, hair pushed back behind his ears but one strand hangs across his forehead, the corner of his lip between his teeth. 

He starts to ask you small questions about yourself, the conversation leading to learning about him and how he got into tattooing. He talks about his art and the little things he likes. Both of you are so invested in one another that you don't even notice how far you've come in the day, lunch already rolling around before you know it. He's gotten through more than half the outline when he starts the loose wrap to keep it clean while you go out for lunch. The bakery is just downstairs offering lunch deals you can't refuse and when you get back upstairs both of you sit on the couch and continue your conversation. Giggling over nothing much but being comfortable in each other's company more than what you could have asked for. 

redlightdesign could have been a total dick but you were blessed enough to get someone so genuinely kind and talented. And when you got back in the chair to finish the day's session you were sad to know that tomorrow would be the last time you saw Hyunjin unless you somehow got another appointment. The idea in it of itself was making you dread leaving. 

“Could you tie my hair up?” he asks lifting his wrist up to you, a hair band waiting for you to take off. You lean over taking the tie from him and running your fingers through the dark strands. He hums as you brush the hair from his face gathering it all to tie into a ponytail. “thank you,” he nods letting the end bob up and down, a sweet smile teasing his lips before he goes back to the linework. 

When he finally declares you done for the day you sigh, his thumb smoothing over the ends of the tape he's put to hold the wrap he put over your thigh. His finger slips across your inner thigh making you jolt harder than when the needle was to your skin. “sensitive?” he asks and you nod, not wanting to think too much into it. You were definitely sensitive but not from the pain, watching his long fingers work over your skin didn't put the cleanest image in your head. 

He starts to break down his workstation, cleaning up and wiping everything to disinfect. While you put on your coat he asks, “Do you want to get dinner?” you turn to make sure he is not on the phone but he is in fact asking you, “I know this great spot a block over it's not that far a walk if you're up for it?” 

“Sure,” you nod and he rubs the back of his neck. 

“You know if you're not busy or anything I don't usually ask clients out for dinner but we were having a good chat and you know if you don't want to,” he drags on his ears pink, it was cute to watch him flustered. 

“I'd love to go to dinner with you hyunjin,” you smile following him out. 

You share an umbrella as you make your way to the small cafe-style restaurant, outdoor seating covered with a canopy so you won't get hit by any rain. Sitting across from one another, Hyunjin asks to see your other tattoos. You lay one arm down on the table, hyunjins fingertips ghosting over your skin as he traces the lines of all your other work. “I think I've seen this one before, did you get it from Felix? Or what's his username…”

“youg.ink?” you nod, “I actually got it because I saw you mentioned them before and it introduced me to their work. instantly fell in love with this when he offered it up,” 

hyunjins not even paying attention to the tattoos anymore as he lets his fingers glide over your smooth skin. Most times after a client was done for the day in his chair he walked them to the door, waved goodbye, and worked in the studio on the next person's design. Most times he had people who he didn't mind not seeing again but you and your laugh, your gentle conversation, made him want to break his own rules for once. He walks you home after dinner and promises to see you tomorrow at the same time. 

When you show up for your second session you're double fisting two iced coffees; the door is already unlocked as you make your way up the stairs. Hyunjin is sitting at the desk with headphones on sketching away before he sees the movement in the corner of his eye. He gives you a big smile, all teeth and is so cute. He tugs his headphones off letting them hang around his neck, “you got me a coffee?” 

“Maybe or maybe I have a caffeine addiction,” you joke, handing over his cup. You look over to see what he's working on and he leans back to give you a better view. 

“The next client wants their back done, it will be spaced out over the next four months. first sessions tomorrow,” 

“I wouldn't even know where to start on something that big,” 

“the same way I started yours,” he looks down at your legs, the wrap still in place only today you're wearing a skirt instead of shorts. The only other clothing item you felt would give him space to work today. Hyunjin looks back to his sketchbook, shutting it and standing. “let's get you up on the chair and get started,” 

you follow his instructions, sinking back into the chair and letting your skirt bunch between your legs to expose your thigh. Hyunjin starts to set up his station, pulling on his gloves after flipping to the sketch of your design to have to glance at while he works. “might hurt today with all the shading if you need any breaks let me know we can go as slow as you need,” he peels away the tape before cleaning your leg with a towel and watered down soap. “It already looks good,” he nods, pressing around the tattoo. 

“I think I can handle it,” 

“Okay, we can work the bottom to the top again today, get the area closest to the knee and get the most painful bit first,” 

and you think you can handle it and you can for the most part but the dragging of the needle over the still red outline from yesterday is painful today. Your hand bunching in your skirt as you remind yourself to breathe. You let your head roll back in the chair not able to watch anymore, focusing on the music playing, the dull hum of the tattoo gun usually comforting you but now a reminder that you're here for a while. 

hyunjin is trying to concentrate, he's great at what he does, but what's testing him is how you're flashing your panties at him. he was going to say something, bring up a conversation about anything but when he looked up, a simple glance he was face to face with the dark grey fabric, the outline of you silencing him. You didn't even notice, your neck exposed as your free hand not holding your skirt gripped the armrest. 

Tattooing people made nudity and almost nudity normal. It was why Hyunjin preferred his private studio so that he could make people feel comfortable, it was better than having someone who wanted a hip tattoo strip in a shop where anyone could watch. But with you sitting in front of him he forgot that he shouldn't look so close. Because instead of ignoring the view he was imagining ways that he could make your pain more bearable. Imagining how if he reached over and brushed where he knew your clit would be waiting you wouldn't be moaning in pain. 

It's not until lunch that your skirt is let go but it's done the work of keeping Hyunjin hard for the entirety of the progress he's made toward the tattoo. When he sprays the tattoo down with the soapy water beads roll back up your leg because of the way the chairs are angled. The cold water feels great against your hot skin and Hyunjin apologizes for the mess passing you a paper towel to wipe any that got too far. You slightly lift your leg to wipe your inner thighs, the movement flashing Hyunjin again only this time the droplets of water had dampened your panties. The gray fabric was dark where he had been fantasizing they would be. 

He doesn't even want to think about standing from his stool knowing that the second he does he will have to adjust himself only drawing attention to the fact he is very hard. He tries to make a list of things in his head as he wraps your thigh. To think about how it's almost over, that you will be gone in the next hour or two but that only makes it worse. You would be gone when he was this needy? He wanted to make an excuse to have you come back for another session. But it was quite obvious he would be dragging out the appointment when he only needed to do a small section when the two of you were done with lunch. He could have waited and finished, pushed your lunch back, and waved goodbye but no. 

He swiveled his chair away from you, taking a sip from his almost empty cup of coffee as you slid down the bed to stand. Hyunjin takes a breath and prays you don't notice but it's the first thing you see when he turns, the strained outline not very well hidden. You pretend to look out the window, feeling your cheeks get hot. All you can think about is if it was your noises that did it, all the whimpering wasn't usually how you handled tattoos but this one was the biggest piece you've gotten, and didn't know two sessions would make your usually composed self break so easily. it would explain the silence compared to yesterday. So you toy with the idea, how far would he go if you made yourself available? 

You grabbed lunch together, hyunjin putting a pillow over his lap to steady his plate of food but both of you knew that wasn't the real reason. And when you were back in the chair you intentionally let your skirt roll up this time. It doesn't help that he's now working on the part of the tattoo closest to your center, how he wraps his hand around your thigh, pushing your legs further apart to reach a spot on your inner thigh. Gloved fingers brushing over your panties for the smallest second, your hips sinking into the seat to keep yourself from moving. Hyunjin noticed but needed to get through the rest of the tattoo, if he stopped now he wouldn't know when he would start again. Your lip between your teeth he watched as you tried to close your legs again to block your exposed panties, now wet with your slick and nothing else. He could see the spot and almost ripped his gloves off as soon as he finished his work. But now he was teasing you. Cleaning the tattoo down and wiping it down. He doesn't even bother with the normal photos he would take right away instead putting on the second skin to protect the tattoo. As he smooths the thin film over your inner thigh he lets his fingers slip up brushing against your center to see your reaction. 

Your head rolls to your shoulder watching him through your lashes as he takes off his gloves and tosses them on the cart. He lifts the armrest on the tattoo chair before reaching behind your knees to pull you to the edge of the seat so your legs are dangling off the side. “how is it someone can make the prettiest sounds and sit so still for me?” he leans down and plants a kiss on your tattooless thigh, “because all I could think about was how I wanted to see your legs shaking for me while you whined like that,” 

you tried to draw your knees together but he was in the way, kissing up your inner thigh, nipping at your skin with his teeth. When he reached your skirt he flipped it up with a lazy hand giving you no time before his thumb was over your clit rubbing a harsh circle over the fabric. You felt the shock run up to your stomach, your voice breathy as you whimpered his name. He followed the wet line down the front of your panties before hooking his finger along the seam to pull them back. He wanted one taste, needed one taste but knew he wouldn't stop at just one, not when you looked this edible and ready for him. 

He ravages your clit, your hands shooting to his head burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks. He's careful of your tattoo but your other thigh is fair game for him to wrap his arm around and push you open, fingers bruising with how he spreads you. His free hand prodded your entrance, circling in your wetness before slipping in knuckle deep. “Hyunjin,” you whine, your hips rocking against his lips, feeling the build up of your orgasm. He curls his fingers pressing up into you enough to make your legs jerk from the new angle. 

You're seeing spot before too long, hips stuttering as he gives a final hard suck, fingers still as you clench around them. You're moaning so loud you're sure someone will hear but you don't even care. Hyunjin doesn't stop the flick of his tongue against your clit making you cry out, “I said I wanted to see them shake,” devilish smile covered in your slick before he latches on to your clit again. Fingers pumping in and out of you before he presses deeper into you. You can feel tears at the corners of your eyes, and when he pulls away slightly to let his teeth brush your clit you're done for, legs trembling as you cum. He is persistent and you have to tug his head away, a slight smile stuck on his wet lips as he watches your body shake from the overstimulation. “once more?” 

“I can't- I can't do it,” you shake your head but he drags his fingers out slowly before inching them back in, your hips jumping. 

“I know you can, you've been doing so good for me already, one more time won't hurt,” he hums, dipping his nose down to brush over your nub. Jolting at the feeling he turns his head to kiss your inner thigh, slowly building up speed with his fingers, “can't you do just one more?” it's the way he asks so softly, the heavy gaze under heavier eyelids that makes you nod. 

You're so sensitive that one lick has you shaking, your orgasm feeling so far and yet so close all at once. His tongue laps through your folds circling your clit. Hyunjin is obsessed with the taste of you, completely under the spell of your pussy and how it responds to his touch. He could go all night eating you out, watching as you fell apart again and again before him. Your cries are getting louder and before you know it your back is arching into him almost coming off the seat, your orgasm so intense you don't expect the clear fluid to squirt out of you until it has. 

You're breathing so labored you place a hand over your chest to try and calm yourself. hyunjins pleased grin is the only thing you see before he pulls his fingers out of you and sticks them in his mouth to clean them. Every once in a while your legs jerk from an aftershock, the delight in his eyes worth how tired you feel. Your thighs are sticking to the leather seat under you as Hyunjin pulls your underwear back into place leaning down to leave a ghost of a kiss over your clothed clit. “next time I want you to cry this pretty for my cock okay?”