#like they are the best things i have drawn

[hencheri]

— dior girl

▸ 18+ mdni.

When Park Sunghoon wants something, he gets it no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands, but he has absolutely no morals.

| pairing. designer!sunghoon x fem!reader

| warnings. dark!sunghoon (he's not a good person lol), implied legal age gap, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, mention of gain weight, manipulation, corruption, violent sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, anal play, dacryphilia, aftercare because yes sunghoon's a sadist but he still has a heart.

| wc. 7.5k

| a.n.: repost from an old blog. pls forgive me for how lengthy the smut is (or thank me)!!

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place where he can spend hours without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio, it feels like time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, or the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's working on.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of that dress. At some point, it was consuming his entire mind, the only thing he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally making it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever created. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Sunghoon is. It's going to be the design of the year—of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of it all. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Sunghoon still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Sunghoon when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. 

"Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims and Sunghoon immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Soobin. "I have someone to introduce you."

Sunghoon raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Soobin who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he never really cares about the many girls Soobin brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Sunghoon turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Soobin's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs—the one he wants and has to ruin.

Soobin introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Soobin raises his eyebrows in Sunghoon's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Soobin before glancing at Sunghoon who still hasn't looked away from you. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt as you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, so eager to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Sunghoon says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile—stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it shallow. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him, so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex. 

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Soobin begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." 

You chuckle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Sunghoon as if waiting for some praises.

Sunghoon faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you sooner. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, his to kiss and fuck. His to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

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"Careful," Sunghoon softly says as he catches you up before you can fall to the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost stumble. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Sunghoon looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Sunghoon knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol during your diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just a glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Sunghoon himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you noticed nothing and gulped everything down. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Sunghoon assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... 

Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Sunghoon announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" 

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them by the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Sunghoon sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper—a secret, a confession only you know. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Sunghoon will fix your mistakes. 

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks—he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Sunghoon as if his simple presence will make all of your problems go away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Sunghoon everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, wrinkling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Sunghoon breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days earlier when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. 

He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Sunghoon will make you walk the runway wearing his dress—the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Sunghoon softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." you begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Sunghoon wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. 

You swallow, "On my ass, Sunghoon," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Sunghoon purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor. 

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Sunghoon stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you. 

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours. 

He sees that your ass is a bit more loose than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock—though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not. 

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side? 

He's choked you before—smacked your ass hard till you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements. 

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Sunghoon wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much—with all of your pathetic being—and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiples, and being the poor girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary. 

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice, "how about we play with it a little?" 

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase. 

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Sunghoon brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well. 

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you, sinking in gradually as Sunghoon holds your cheeks apart.

"Feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Sunghoon. 

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, leaving his stinging handprint on you. 

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?" 

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug. 

Sunghoon genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way—though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway. 

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever. 

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt. 

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy. 

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out. 

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Sunghoon holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock. 

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin burning after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip. 

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Sunghoon. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex. 

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before. 

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls envelop him tightly. 

He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your neck and shoves your head against the mattress. 

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace—fucking is never soft or loving with Sunghoon, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public, and releases when he gets intimate with you. 

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. You've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Sunghoon whenever he feels like it. 

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, to be ravished and delighted to have his cock sliding against your walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head into the bed covers with more strength. 

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Sunghoon's hand still pushing down on your head. 

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and onto the bed. Your pussy swallows all of him, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You hold the bed sheets between your fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Sunghoon and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you. 

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock. 

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Sunghoon controls you—controls your life and thoughts. 

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you and as he holds you by the throat, he lewdly licks the side of your face in a long stripe. 

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers the words to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so badly like the slut that you are.”

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy. You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud.

"Yes, want to please you, Sunghoon," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on you. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid. 

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you. 

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features. 

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you were on him, how impossible it was for you to live without someone to guide you. 

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room. 

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around him once again. Your hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest. 

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Sunghoon lets go of your face and hips. 

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Sunghoon slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress. 

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and milky skin. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only thing remaining on him being the watch crowning his right wrist. 

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes. 

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction—more pain. 

He doesn't mind being naked because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Sunghoon is imposing, his cock thick enough to split you in half. 

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator that has caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, your hole pathetically quivering—missing his size terribly. 

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart," Sunghoon instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. There's still a bit of lube left on it and around your ass. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after. 

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaked from your pussy. His cock is so close to it and Sunghoon could slide right in with one movement of his hips. 

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in. 

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, staring so obsessively at your rim. 

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush down to his cock at the mere thought of hurting you. 

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it—he needs it. Accuse him of having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him of everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame. 

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more force. "Can you, baby?" Sunghoon asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you. 

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you. 

"Yes what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain. 

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut. 

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails into the flesh of his biceps, only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Sunghoon groans at that, stuffing more of himself into you. "Good girl," he praises.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used on you. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink. 

The tears roll down the side of your face and Sunghoon can't help but love the sight, leaning in to kiss your face and collect one of your tears, tasting the saltiness of it on his tongue. 

"Sunghoon!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful eyes. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin. 

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks a breath through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough. 

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, going down to your collarbones and pawing at your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you. 

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first. 

The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation. 

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependent on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Sunghoon because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically. 

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. His finger gently circles your clit to make the pain more bearable. 

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..." 

A choked moan is all that escapes your mouth. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his shoulder blades.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place—making sure you know that he’s always in control. 

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Sunghoon bottoms out. It starts to feel good for you—really good—and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning. 

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fingers.

He pulls away from you, his full lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms. 

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lets out a low groan, holding eye-contact with you. 

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You love to feel his pulsing veins under your fingertips.

"Sunghoon..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to smooch over your neck again as you expose it to him, his lips pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly. 

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure. 

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby.” 

He slowly halts his hip thrusts and he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass. 

Sunghoon raises himself up from you and gets out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed. 

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Sunghoon commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees. 

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head. 

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Sunghoon's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the room. 

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair. 

You relax your jaw for Sunghoon, allowing him to stuff more of himself into your mouth. He looks down at you, watching at the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. 

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take him whole each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases. 

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, "you're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again. 

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said, sending vibrations throughout his entire body. He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes burning as Sunghoon fucks your throat roughly. 

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet. 

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Sunghoon's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself. 

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Sunghoon's moans and the feeling of his cock weighing down on your tongue. 

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger smoothly flickering over your sensitive bud.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Sunghoon can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him. 

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Sunghoon penetrates your pussy, bending your legs over your stomach. 

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed right away, tits moving up and down on your chest. 

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly it hurts. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high. 

You let out a high-pitched moan when Sunghoon suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your cunt. 

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips. 

Your pussy clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep in you. When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering you in his cum. 

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made of you. 

Later, Sunghoon is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall. 

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his dress, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes. 

He thinks about everything that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Sunghoon. 

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five. 

Sunghoon knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you. 

But that's why he's here, he'll take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his—solely and completely. 

"Sunghoon?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest. 

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?" 

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them. 

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best. 

Sunghoon was satisfied to see that his name stood out amongst everyone else's, being mentioned more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about. 

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you contributed to the fame a lot. 

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Sunghoon needed. 

But every good story has an end, doesn't it? 

When Sunghoon comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, the city draped in the dark, splotches of bright yellow light flashing in front of your eyes. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes. 

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that happened the past weeks in your head. 

It was going to happen soon or later anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all. 

Sunghoon was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen. 

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with or without Sunghoon's sabotage. He did you a favour. 

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Sunghoon was feeding you. The bottles of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea. 

You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to. 

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, still looking outside. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..." 

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Sunghoon comes home. 

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says. 

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts. 

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you." 

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed till the end of it. 

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away. 

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you—close all of your past wounds and create other ones. He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you—he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

[arbitrarykiwi]

heyyy!!! loser namgyu lover here. this is purely self indulgent but i would LOVE to see how you’d write loser namgyu w a more innocent reader? not naïve or childish or anything weird like that, just a less experienced one. i literally die for everything you write, the banter, the plot, the smut the everything!!!! can’t wait to see what you have coming. thank u!

Introvert Meets Innocence

LOSER NAMGYU LOVER MY BELOVED!! Ugh your one ask resonated with so many people that we got multiple people requesting more loser!nam-gyu x reader 🤭🤭 and who am I to deny the people of what they want!!! I hope you guys don’t mind I combined these asks, they all came in around the same time and all craved the awkward lil loser man!! I hope you all enjoy 😩 thank you again for requesting !!!!

Warnings: smut (18+), drug usage (weed), forced proximity, oral (f receiving), porn addict/hardly touches women!Namgyu, cowgirl, squirting, creampie, probably more, read at your own risk.

You didn’t expect to end up locked in a room with Nam-Gyu tonight. You really didn’t. You came with your friend to Thanos’ studio- she was dating him.

It was normal! You’ve hung out with them multiple times, you and your friend group going over to the studio after a night out to keep the party going and mingle with Thanos’ group. You had to admit, the majority of the people in the shared group were not the usual people you hung around. You didn’t mind them but they were all very loud and excitable, often knocking back shots quicker than you can count and immediately escalating into breaking furniture. The poor coffee table in the studio has been replaced more times than you could count.

They also all seemed to enjoy the hard drugs- ones you never wished to try- you’ve seen what it’s done to the ones who do it. You stick with weed. Your friends often called you the ‘innocent’ one of the group. You wished you could defend yourself- but when compared to the other people who hung around you were innocent. Hell, half the time you couldn’t even realizes a drug deal was going down in front of you until your friend told you later on.

So anytime you hung with this group- you frequently found yourself on the small side sectional of the studio, next to Nam-Gyu. He was the most tame out of the group. Sure he was odd, awkward even, but after a couple blunts or a line of whatever substance he chose, you could potentially get a conversation out of him. He was brash, often calling you names or criticizing your blunt rolling skills- but you found yourself drawn to him. He was strange, very introverted- he only spoke if he was spoke to. Anytime you saw him out at the club he looked like he wanted to go home. Even now in the studio with at least 10 other people laugh and yelling- you can see the way his nose scrunches in annoyance.

You remember one time a couple months ago, you and him were in the same spot as you are now. You were helping him break down the weed, he looked over to you- you were wearing some sweatpants and a sweater, a drastic difference from the outfits of your friends were wearing. You were curled up into the corner of the couch, nearing falling off the edge of the sectional, like you’re trying your best not to invade his space though he had so much

He scoffs as he looks back to his rolling tray, his face mostly hidden from your view by the hood of the jacket he was wearing. “You’re fucking weird.” He states simply. You can’t help but let out a baffled laugh and look over to him with an offended look. “Ohhhkayyy..” you draw out with a grimace. Trying to decide if you’re more offended by the comment or the fact he spoke to you first. “‘S not a bad thing. You’re just…weird.” He says, like it makes it any better.

He looks back over to you and sees your uneasy and upset look. He’s cursing to himself inwardly, he guessed that didn’t exactly come out the way he intended. “I- fuck.” He groans, you can’t help but laugh, he really doesn’t know how to talk to people. “You’re sitting so far away like I’m going to bite you, you’re dressed like that when all the girls you came with dressed like…” he looks over to your friends across the room, each dressed in short skirts or small tops- all gettinf cozy with men of their own. “..Like that.” He finishes. “You’re just…interesting..I guess that’s the better word.” He mumbles, looking back down to the rolling tray to avoid your eyes.

You seem to relax more, realizing he wasn’t insulting you. “I just didn’t want to be cold, I was wearing something like that at the club. We just stopped home and I changed. Wanted to be comfy.” You shrug. “And I didn’t want to be in your space.” You say softly, fingers working against the weed to break it down, adding to the grown pile on the rolling tray you had in your lap.

“You’re not in my space.” He says, it’s a gruff tone. You smiles softly to yourself but think nothing of it, returning back to your task. You hear him sigh, almost like he’s annoyed, “That was an invitation for you to move closer. You’re practically falling off the couch.”

So now anytime you’re sitting by him helping him roll, you’re closer to him. Thighs almost touching.

Now how did you end up locked in the guest room that was upstairs in the studio!? Well that happened because your friend and Thanos seemed to think they needed to play Cupid. They had enough of the awkward slow burn of sexual tension that seemed to be brewing between you two. And it seemed like neither of you guys realized it. Thanos was tired of seeing the little to no game Nam-Gyu had- sure he would throw a ‘you look nice’ here and there or very obviously eye fuck you, yet Nam-Gyu would do nothing about it. And your friend was tired of you missing every hint Nam-Gyu seemed to throw at you- sure they were piss poor attempts at flirting and most of the times his tone seemed like he was bored with everything around him- but she saw how he stared at you, how he bit his lip harder when you came around, moving over on the couch to make room for your designated spot.

If you two were going to act like nervous awkward high schoolers- they’d play the same game. Somehow Thanos and one of your friends managed to wrangle you two upstairs, throw you two in the room and shut the door behind you guys.

Instinctively Nam-Gyu rushed over to the door, trying to pull it open but it was obvious something was placed on the other side to keep the door shut.

Nam-gyu furiously bangs on the door, “Dude what the fuck! Open the fucking door!” He shouts, pulling at the knob to no avail.

“You two are going to play 60 minutes in heaven!” Your friend calls through the door, you’re furrowing your eyebrows. “Isn’t it 7 minutes in heaven…” you mumble to yourself, confused. Nam-gyu seems to hear you because he’s muttering a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ like you’re missing a whole part of the joke. You then realize exactly what situation you’re in, locked in a room with him and now you’re expected to be in that room for 60 minutes. You’re running over to the door as well, banging on it. “You can’t fucking keep us in here for 60 minutes!!” You call out. There’s no answer and the door still wouldn’t budge. But you still don’t seem to connect the dots, you don’t make the connection between your friend’s words and what’s going on.

You step back, your body temperature rising. This was so fucked of them to do. Knowing your attempts at opening the door are futile, you begin to walk back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Nam-gyu is still at the door, furiously jiggling the knob for a few more seconds before finally giving up. He’s huffing out an annoyed breath and sinking back away from the door.

He joins you on the bed, sitting a bit away from you, it seems now he’s awkwardly shrinking away like you’ll bite. His hood has fallen off of his head, allowing you to see his face. The corner of his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, his face has a slight flush to it, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly. Every movement of his leg makes the bed sheets rustle, it’s almost maddening, it’s the only sound you hear in the room.

“Are you anxious?” Your voice cuts through the silence like a knife. He’s scoffing, turning his head away from you and bringing once of his hands up to his face, biting at his thumb nail. What a fantastic fucking question, he thought. He couldn’t believe you were asking that, wasn’t it obvious? “No.” He curtly responds, his tone cold and terse. You shrink back in response, shifting away from him. “But your leg-“ you mutter out, he cuts you off, “It’s nothing. I’m not anxious.” He spits out a bit harshly.

“Okay…” you say glaring at him, fingers pulling at the fabric of the comforter. “We can probably just sit here for a bit and they’ll let us out.” You mumble, eyes trained on your feet. “They won’t.” He says… he sure knows how to swoon with his words. You’re furrowing your eyebrows and rolling your eyes.

In his mind he’s fighting multiple demons. He regrets telling Thanos you were his type. He wishes he wasn’t so fucked up the other week that he let spill he searches up porn categories that you fit. He searches for women with your hair, your eye color, your body type. He didn’t know why he let that slip to Thanos, he blamed it on the mass amount of coke in his system at the time. But ever since he said that, the purple haired rapper has been trying to get him to make a move.

He tried, as best he could, he wasn’t the best with flirting. Lingering touches on your hands as you pass the blunt, a hand laid out on your upper thigh as you talk in a group, maybe a small compliment here and there- saying your hair looked nice or commenting on a new shirt he saw you wear, hed even offer his lap for you to lay on when your head was beginning to hurt from the loud bass playing in the studio. He thought it was obvious, and maybe to someone else it was- but not to you. You’d just giggle and thank him for his compliments, even place your hand over his on his thigh and play with his rings only to go home without hardly saying bye to him. You seemed to never notice he had a thing for you.

But he knew that Thanos orchestrated this whole thing. And he knew that the rapper would not let him out of this room until something happened, until he finally made a move. “And how do you know that? They’re just pulling a dumb prank.” You say, he can hear the attitude in your voice, how you really can’t see the underlying message of what was going on.

He’s struggling, he really is. He wasn’t a virgin, but he might as well be. He’s maybe slept with three women, all one night stands where he was far too high to even remember it. He honestly hated dealing with people and that included any woman he took home for a quick fuck. He admittedly got most of his knowledge from watching porn. He spent countless nights at his desk chair, cock in his hand, chasing his third release of the night. And when he met you, his search history was flooded with key search terms that applied to your physical attributes. He was a fucking loser and Thanos expected him to make a move on you!?

“Do you really not see what’s going on here?” He’s asking looking at you with furrowed brows, his harsh tone making you shrink back from him. He’s immediately regretting the way he say it and inwardly scolding himself- he didn’t mean for it to come out that way. “60 minutes in heaven….a play on 7 minutes in heaven…” he says, drawing out his words like it would make you realize. “Yeah…so? Just a stupid change of the name I guess,” you respond shrugging.

He’s pinching his brow in disbelief. You really were so innocent. You really couldn’t see the situation your friend just forced you into.

You pout, starting to think maybe he didn’t like you at all. He was flinching away from you like you were poisonous, his face was flushed and pale like he was physically getting ill around you. “They’re not going to let us out. They locked us in here because they want us to fuck.”

His words make you gawk at him, he can’t be serious. “W-woah what?!” You say incredulously, “N-no that’s definitely not it. They’re just…” your words trail off into nothing as you begin to think of any other reason as to why your friend and Thanos threw you into a locked room with Nam-gyu.

“They’re just what?!” He asks turning back to face you fully, his pupils were blown, his eyes wide and nervous. “You’re so fucking naïve you know that?” He huffs, exasperated. He’s standing up off the bed and pacing around the room a couple times before he stands in front of you. You’re looking at him with an even more confused look, your eyebrows twisted into a look of hurt at his description of you. “I-“ your words are caught in your throat as you stare up at him from your spot on the bed.

“I ran my fucking mouth and told Thanos I wanted to fuck you. He was fed up of me talking about it and sick of nothing happening, me not doing anything about it- that he forced us in here to urge something to happen.” He’s rambling, his hands running through his hair, it looks like his world was crumbling. It’s like he genuinely thought you had no interest in him what so ever.

“Y-you want to fuck me?” You ask, like you misheard him- an uneasy, questioning tone in your voice as if you thought you made everything he said up and now you’re embarrassed you have to ask for clarification. He laughs, striding forward and planting his hands on the bed on either side of your thighs. He’s bent down, face level with yours, “Yes. I don’t know how you haven’t fucking seen it. I’ve beat my fucking dick to the thought of you for months.” He’s responding.

Your mouth drops open, you really don’t think he’s realizing what he’s saying- but to you this is all new news. You never thought he had any attraction to you so you never wanted to push yourself on him. Sure you found him attractive- fuck, he was so attractive- but you never would have thought he’d want to be with someone like you. You were tame compared to the rest of the crowd he found himself around. You figured he’d want a wild party girl. “I had no idea…” you mutter, looking at him like you’ve been bestowed the secrets of the universe.

He laughs, it’s almost mocking, “Of course you didn’t…” he’s looking over your face for any sort of reciprocation in your face but when he finds none and only finds confusion and surprise, he’s stepping back from you, realizing what he just admitted to and goes violently red. “L-look I’m sorry, just forget I s-said anything and we can just sit here until they unlock the fucking door.” He’s rambling again, thinking he royally fucked everything up. He didn’t know how to talk to girls, let alone you. You were different than any of the drugged out girls he’s fucked- and there wasn’t many.

You’re launching yourself off the bed and making your way over to him. You’re grabbing the sides of his jacket and yanking him downwards. You’re kissing him with months of pent up emotion. He’s fumbling, he’s not really sure what to do. His lips are messy against yours, his hands hovering in the air above your hips. When you release his jacket to cup his face in both of your hands- steadying him and grounding him to reality. He falls into a steadier rhythm, his hands placing themselves on your hips.

His hands are shaking on your hips, it’s endearing. He finally falls into a pattern that has your head swimming, you’re melting into him, beginning to moan softly into his mouth. The sounds you make send lightning up his spine, it’s better than he ever imagined. He’s backing you up to the bed, your knees connect with the edge of the bed and you both fall onto the plush mattress.

His hands reattach themselves to your waist, pushing up your sweater to run his hands along your skin. Your warmth against his hands makes him moan into your mouth. You can feel his erection against your stomach already. Was he really already worked up? You really had no idea how he could be. You didn’t see yourself as an overly sexual person so the idea that he was so utterly, sexually, attracted to you didn’t sit in your mind.

But you’re letting out a blissful sigh at his touch, your lips moving feverishly against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this.” He admits as he pulls away, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks, his hand slipping up your sweater to grope at your breasts. You watch as his eyes flutter shut, letting out a soft moan at just the feeling of the soft flesh in his hands like he’s never touched a breast in his life.

The whole thing just makes you twitch under him, arching your back into his touch. “Can’t believe you wanted this…would have made a move so much sooner..” he says in a daydreaming voice, like you’re only a figment of his imagination.

You reach up and grab his face and pull him in to kiss you again. He’s caught off guard, a gasp he lets out is swallowed by your lips. You pull back with a giggle, “You were rambling.” He shakes his head chuckling and leaning back in to kiss you again, “My bad..couldn’t help it.” He says, lips molding with yours once again.

This time the kiss is more smooth, he’s carful and kissing you with a swiftness that has your mind reeling. You’re moaning into his mouth and arching up into his hand that still works at your breast. His mouth parts, his tongue licking at your lips. You eagerly part your lips, your tongue twirling with his in a mess of mixed saliva.

When he pulls back he’s staring down at your kiss swollen lips and blissed out expression, he thinks he must of won the lottery, this right here- you- you were the jackpot. He’s quickly pushing up your sweater and pulling down your bralette. When your tits fall free of the confines, jiggling as they settle, his cock jumps in his boxers.

Your arms quickly cross over your chest, on instinct, to try and cover yourself. He chuckles at your reaction, it’s cute, so innocent, it just makes his cock strain harder in his jeans. “C’mon….lemme see.” He whines, it’s like a kid who’s pouting. “S’not fair. You’re still clothed.” You say, a pout forming on your lips.

It’s almost comical the speed at which he gets up off the bed and hastily shrugs his jacket off, pulls off his shirt and drops his pants to the ground. You’re giggling as he nearly trips over his jeans as he kicks them off, climbing back onto the bed and straddling your form. “Can I see now?” He begs, leaning down to kiss you quickly, “please…” he whispers, kissing you again. His voice has a whining lilt to it that has your arms falling away from your chest and your head turning away so you didn’t have to look at him.

“Fucking hell…” he breathes out with a soft laugh of disbelief. His hands return to their spot, one hand on each breast, but this time his movements are soft, he gently kneads your tits before brushing his thumbs lightly over your nipples, he’s fixated on the way they begin to harden into soft peaks under his touch. “Perfect set of tits…” he’s mumbling, more to himself than you before he’s lowering his head and wrapping his lips around your nipple.

You’ve had sex a couple times, but truthfully it’s been with shitty men who, as you now come to find out, didn’t pay hardly enough attention to you. You don’t think you’ve ever felt the feeling of someone’s mouth and tongue working at your breasts like they were some divine offering that’s been bestowed upon them. But that’s exactly what Nam-gyu is doing. Your back is arching off the bed, your hand coming to cradle his head to your chest.

He looks up to you while his mouth is latched onto your nipple, tongue ruthlessly flicking over the hard peak as he surveys your every reaction. The way your eyebrows furrow and upturn, the way you bit your cheek more than your lip when you’re trying to silence your moans. He realizes then that you obviously hadn’t had much experience- the little pleasure he’s giving you now already has you a mess. And he loves it.

He pulls off of your nipple with a wet ‘pop’, moving his face back to be level with yours. He connects your lips with his, kissing you with months of built up tension that you can feel he’s pouring into the kiss. It’s frenzied, it’s needy, it’s desperate. When you two break for air, his hands are playing with the waist band of your sweatpants. You can feel the way his hands nervously shake- just ever so slightly. It makes you feel a little better- he’s just as nervous as you were.

He looks to where his fingertips slip below the fabric of your sweatpants, then back up to you. You both sit there in silence for a minute, it’s awkward- but you’re both nervous, both overly excited.

“We can sto-“ He begins to speak first, you frantically cut him off by lifting your hips up off the bed and speaking “No, no! P-please, continue.” You whine desperately, finally finding your voice when the threat of this possibly ending hung in the air.

He visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping as he laughs a bit, trying to slow his heart rate. He’s leaning down and kissing you again as he begins to pull your sweatpants off your legs. You help by kicking them off your feet, both of you fumbling to get the fabric off. You’re both laughing into the kiss. Once he finally pulls the sweatpants fully off of you and tossing them into a corner to the room, he’s focusing more on the kiss.

He stops laughing, slowing the speed of the kiss down to a languid pace that allows you to feel every micro-movement of the kiss. His hands run up your bare legs, feeling your bare skin along his finger tips. He pulls away from the kiss to look down at your legs. You’re wearing a cute set of panties, they’re a light blue with little daisies spores around the fabric. Christ, just when he thought you couldn’t get any better.

He’s moving himself to be kneeling in between your legs, hands running up your legs and pulling you closer to him, letting your legs hand loosely around his hips, your cunt resting tight against the tent in his boxers. He’s observing you like any movement he could make may send you running, it’s makes you try and shrink back into the plush mattress.

You look so perfect like this, he thinks. You’re splayed out on the bed, hair spread around you like some halo, your hips lifted upwards by where he held you, and your hands were gripping the hem of your large sweatshirt to try and pull it down over your panties. You looked so innocent.

“You look good…don’t have to hide.” He hums, hands running up your thighs in a soothing motion- yet you can still feel the slight jitter in his touch. It’s endearing. You slowly drop your hands from the sweater and opt to grip the bed sheets in a white-knuckled grip instead. “I w-wanna make you feel good.” He chokes out, his voice nervously cracking.

You bite your lip and nod, “mhm..o-okay.” You say, your hips mindlessly starting to shift against his cock, dragging your warm cunt along his shaft. You watch as he grits his teeth and his grip on your hips tighten. He thinks he could have cum right there in his boxers when he felt the way your pussy wrapped around his length through your panties. You felt so dirty, you’ve never been this vulgar with anyone. Your movements were experimental, moving purely off instinct.

He’s gripping the sides of your panties, fingers pulling at the elastic, he pauses looking back up to you for some sign to continue. You nod again, “f-fuck please.” You whine out. He’s pulling your panties down and throwing them in an unknown location in the room like your pants. When he finally gets to see your bare cunt, his cock is jumping, visibly, in his boxers. “Fucking hell.” He’s mumbling, hands coming to grip at your inter thighs and push them apart. “I-“ he chokes on his words, he wasn’t nothing more than to say something suave that has you melting into his palms- but he can’t.

The sight of your glistening cunt makes his mind go blank. He really thought that maybe sometime down the line he may have got lucky and made out with you- never in his life expected to get to see your perfect pink cunt- and here we was, at a VIP seat, front and center to a show he’s been dreaming about for months.

“Stop looking at it like that…” you whine, hiding behind your hands once again. He finally realizes how hard he was staring and shakes his head with a bashful laugh. “‘M sorry I can’t help it…” he says, his hands massaging your inner thighs, pulling at the flesh to spread you open better. He sucks in a sharp breath, when he sees your pink cunt and your tight entrance clenching around nothing, the idea of sinking in your cute cunt was enough to make him nearly cum in his boxers for what felt like the 6th time in under thirty minutes.

“It’s so embarrassing…” you whine, your bottom lip catching between your teeth as your eyes are locked on him- watching in anticipation of what he’s going to do next. “S’not….” He mumbles, bending over to place a kiss on your hip. He’s glad you only see it as foreplay, because in reality he’s stalling. He knows if he fucks you right now or even touches your pussy- he’s going to cum.

The countless nights of beating his dick to the idea of you, looking up porn videos only to imagine that it was you and him reenacting the scenes that made his dick so hard- none of it compared to the real thing. He spent weeks conjuring up all the smooth things he’d whisper into your ear if he ever got the chance to fuck you. All that practice was for nothing because when he’s here, having the opportunity, and seeing the real thing- his minds blank, he’s choking on his words, he can hardly speak.

“I’ve dreamed of this…” he hums out, his eyes darting all over your body. “For months….you being in this exact position…” he adds, you’re sure he doesn’t realize how his clothed cock begins to grind hard against your pussy. Your arousal beginning to make a dark patch in his boxers. He does this for a few moments, simply just looking at you and rocking his erection against your cunt. You reach a hand out, nails raking against his abdomen. “F-fuck, please…” you whisper out a breathy voice, eyebrows upturned in a pleading expression. “Nam-Gyu I need you to touch me…p-please.”

His mind is shrouded by a lust he’s never known before. The sweet tone of your pleading voice causing his eyes to roll back. He draws in a hissing breath, opening his eyes to look down at you. He begins to move, adjusting himself. He lays flat on the bed, his hands still holding your thighs open. He levels his face with your soaking pussy, his breath fanning over your folds.

When he looks up at you from between your thighs, he sees your worried expression, almost bordering on unease. “You okay?” He asks, his voice oddly soft, his chin resting on your stomach. You nod frantically, your face flushed red. “Y-yes!” You fumbled out, trying to show that you did want this. “I just uh-“ you swallow thickly “I know I said I wasn’t a virgin…and I’m not…but I’ve never uh…” you say, your eyes looking everywhere but him.

“Don’t tell me no one’s ever eaten your cunt before.” He says, his eyes wide with surprise. You squeak and cover your face in embarrassment, “Ugh don’t say it like that!” You say bashfully. You look at him through your fingers and slowly bring your hand down, you finally nod. “Y-yes no one’s ever…eaten me out.” It sounds weird to say, it almost makes you cringe.

He looks like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing ever, like he doesn’t believe you. But with the way you’re closing your thighs to try and shield your pussy from him and can’t even say the act yourself tells him you’re not lying. “Oh my god…” he says with bewilderment, “There’s no way no one’s ever wanted to eat your perfect pussy before…” he mutters, his hands releasing his hold on your hips to push at your knees, forcing your legs open so he can properly see you.

You want to close your legs and sink into the pillows, try to avoid his gaze but the way he looks at your cunt, pupils blown and mouth parted, you don’t, instead your arching your hips up like you’re trying to chase his mouth. “I mean really…” he muses, his hands running up your thighs, pushing them open further. His hands stop on your inner thighs, thumbs pulling at your labias and pulling you open obscenely wide. It makes you whine, embarrassed. You don’t think you’ve ever been in this vulnerable before, this exposed.

“Cute pussy like this…” he adds, his thumbs beginning to run up and down the sides of your cunt, watching as you spill even more arousal, “Better than any porn I’ve seen… better than I imagined.”

You’re sure if he wasn’t so entranced by your pussy he’d be embarrassed by what he said, openly comparing you to the porn he watches so frequently- even saying you’re better. He’s looking at your cunt like he’s a complete virgin who’s never seen a pussy in his life. It just makes you more hot.

He’s placing a kiss on your clit, his eyes rolling back and a moan falling from his lips when he feels you jolt against the bed. He pulls back, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips clean of the wetness that covered his lip.

It’s like something inside him snaps when he gets his first taste of you. He’s situating himself quickly, laying flat on the bed and his hands sliding under your thighs to wrap themselves around your plush thighs. He’s diving into your pussy, tongue spread wide as he messily laps at your folds. Your hand instantly flys to grip onto his hair, calling out a choked gasp of his name that only makes him begin to devour you faster.

He’s so fucking sloppy, there’s no real technique. You can tell he’s doing it to simply taste you, to lather his tongue in your arousal. He’s using his hands on your thighs to guide your hips to grind on his tongue like he’s coaxing more of your saccharine arousal out of your cunt. Even with the sporadic messy movements it has you writhing underneath him.

“O-oh fuck.” You cry out, eyebrows turned upwards in pleasure and your hand comes to grip at his hair. He’s moaning into your cunt, sending vibrations over your clit. “Taste so fuckin good.” He’s mumbling against your pussy. “Can’t believe I’m the first one to taste this sweet cunt.” His words make your eyes screw shut and your face flush red. The vulgarity of the words making you feel hotter than before, you never thought that such words would only cause your cunt to throb even harder.

His tongue licks a long strip up the entirety of your cunt, stopping at your clit to circle over it a couple times, he sucks it into his mouth, eyes looking up at the way your chest heaves and your eyes screw shut. It’s adorable really, the new sensation he’s introducing you to seeming like it’s almost too much for you. He’s thankful you seem to be enjoying yourself because admittedly…he’s using techniques he’s seen on the porn videos he watched. “O-oh my god…f-feel so- hah!” You’re right words are cut off by a high pitched squeal, your hips jolting against his face. “You like that? That feel good?” He mumbles against your pussy.

You nod, hand gripping tighter at his hair, “Y-yes just like that!” You’re sobbing out. His tongue is vicious, licking at your cunt like a dog lapping at spring water on a hot day. When you manage to collect yourself enough to lift your head up to look down at him another moan falls from your lips at the sight. His eyes are screwed shut in concentration, listening to every sound you let out to make sure he’s doing it right, and he’s fucking his cock into the mattress of the bed. You can see the way his hips grind into the comforter rubbing his cock along the fabric of his boxers and the bed, moaning into your pussy.

“Oh my god….holy fuck…” you say breathlessly, your head falling back to the pillows, your eyes rolling back. Your hips grind into his tongue and he lets you do whatever you need- letting you use his hair to drag you up and down your cunt. You’re blinded by pleasure, you don’t even realize you’re doing it, all you know is it feels so fucking good.

He still thinks he had to be dreaming or maybe that he was far too high because never in his life did he think he would get to devour a cunt like yours. He was eternally thankful that no one else had done this before him, no one had eaten you out- because truth be told he was nowhere near perfect at the craft. He was messy, no real technique, becoming too excited to have his face in your pussy that he was focused on tasting you rather than coaxing an orgasm out of you. But it still felt so good. He couldn’t help but to fuck his cock into the mattress, he was so hard it was painful. Every mouthful of your arousal he swallows makes the throbbing worse.

You know this was a thing that could be done during sex- but you didn’t have a long rap sheet. A few men at most who were lack luster at best- and none of them did this. None of them gave you the pleasure of having a tongue lathing over your sweet cunt. Even if his tongue was erratic and inexperienced, it still caused your back to arch heavenward and you to cry out a slurred moan of his name.

He’s pulling away from your pussy in a mess of your arousal, his tongue hanging out as he’s panting. “L-look I-“ his breath catches in his throat, words cut short by a soft whine ripping through his throat, his hips still humping the bed. “I’m gonna cum inside my f-fucking boxers if I keep eating your pussy, I-i gotta be inside you..” he’s saying, almost pleading. He’s crawling back up your dazed form and hovering over your face.

You meet his gaze, you’re inches apart- breathing in each other’s air. You can see his face glistening with your juices, his lips swollen and red- just like your cunt. He wants to kiss you, but something stops him. He’s nervous and he fucking hates it. He was just tongue fucking your pussy and now he’s nervous to kiss you?! What kind of fucking sick round about anxiety is that. It’s so weird to him…the way you look up at him with such an innocent look- like you’re not staining the sheets below you- it drives him absolutely insane.

You look up at him like a deer and headlights and bite your lip, letting out a nervous but desperate ‘mhm! mhm!”, grabbing his face and giving in to the temptation you’ve had since you seen his face covered in your arousal. You pull him into a hungry kiss. It was so filthy, unlike anything you’ve done. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue he’s moaning into your mouth in high pitched, muffled whine. The heat you feel within your lower stomach is a new powerful sensation that makes you start canting your hips upward in the air, trying to get sensation from something that isn’t there.

His hands are all over you, mapping out your body under his finger tips, groping at your body like he could never get enough- and he couldn’t. One of his hands departs from your flesh as he fumbles with his boxers. He’s pulling them down hastily and throwing them to the side. You want to pull away and give him the same treatment he gave you, but you can’t. He’s gripping your waist and flipping the two of you over, settling you on his lower thighs. You’re letting out a surprised squeak and falling forward onto his chest.

His hands smooth down the expanse of your body. Down your shoulder blades, the curve of your back, the plush of your hips, and then finally settling on your ass. His nails dig into the flesh, his head tilting back and he’s groaning. He needs to feel your ass bounce against him as you ride him- he feels like he’d die if he doesn’t get it soon. You look down at his stomach and whine when you see his thick cock.

For someone who was so…awkward and standoffish, the massive cock between his legs has your heart speeding up even more. You would think with something like that…he’d be fucking girls left and right. But he wasn’t, he was weird, and that excited you. The weird boy with a monster cock. You’re sure you haven’t ever had one this big, you’re almost nervous to take it.

You are nervous.

You experimentally shift your hips up, placing your cunt on his thick length, the warm wetness that envelops the underside of his cock makes his whole body jolt underneath you. And when you roll your hips, dragging your sweet cunt up and down his length, soft folds caressing his girth- his chest is rising and falling in heavy breaths and his hands move up from your ass to your hips, grip bruising as his head falls back into the pillows.

“I-if you keep that up I-i’ll cum before I even fuck you.” He admits through gritted teeth, his eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched. Despite what he said, his hips move in motion with yours, with every grind of your hips your clit drags against the veins that run along the underside of his cock. “I-I’m not sure it will fit…” you mumble, embarrassed but telling the truth.

He stiffens and lets out a pornographic moan. You had no idea what you’re doing to him. The way you said it tells him you truly don’t know the effect those words would have on him. You said it so innocently, you weren’t even trying to tease him. He couldn’t decide if that made it worse or better because he is fighting everything in him not to cum just from your words alone like some pathetic virgin.

“F-fuck!” He growls out, canting his hips upwards so the tip of his cock head presses ever so slightly into the tight entrance of your cunt before sliding upwards to rub against your clit. “It-it’ll fit.” He nods frantically,

His hands lifting you up just the slightest bit. “Mhm…yeah you- fuck… you can take it…” he’s mumbling, and you realize he’s not even talking to you at this point- he’s talking to your pussy.

You’re whining, pulling the sweatshirt you still had on up with one hand so you could look between your legs and see the spectacle before you. You’re slowly sinking down onto him, when the fat tip of his cock pushes into you, a silent cry comes from your lips. Nam-gyu is fairing no better, when he feels your cunt begin to wrap around his cock he’s tossing his head back and letting out a moan that’s mixed with a laugh of disbelief.

You were a fucking dream. Perfect, even. He felt like he was tainting you, defiling the sweet innocence you carry. It’s an exhilarating feeling. You sink down lower on his thick cock, sucking him into your sopping cunt. “O-oh my f-fucking god.” You moan out, the stretch of your pussy around his cock sending jolts of pleasure and a burning pain up your spine. It’s a feeling that you’re immediately addicted to and want more of. “Y-you’re so g-god damn tight…” he says, you’re breath hitches at the tone, whiny- almost pathetic- like you’re cunt is squeezing the life out of his cock.

You’re lowering yourself down faster, you can see he’s only halfway in and yet it feels like he’s ripping you apart. “O-oh s-shit.” Nam-gyu growls, lifting his head up off the bed, eyebrows knitted together. His hands clutch your hips in a painful force that stops your hips from moving further down his throbbing length. “S-slow the fuck down. O-ho my f-fucking god.” He spits out between heaving breaths. You can see his stomach tense up, his nose scrunched and eyes screwed shut. He has to give himself the moment to breathe, to collect himself so he can fully enjoy what your cunt has to offer him. He does not want to cum quick…he cannot ruin this.

Your hands plant themselves on his chest, falling forward a bit. Your hips swivel in the air, grinding onto the part of his cock that’s already in you. “P-please I want to feel all of you.” You whine in a soft plea. He’s groaning, removing his hands off your hips to bring them up to his face, rubbing his palms against his flesh as he allows you to do take more of him into your tight walls. You sink down more, nails digging at the skin of his chest as he fills you. He’s moaning behind his hands, shielding his face from you as you finally take him all the way into your pussy. Your pelvis connecting with his with a soft wet ‘smack’.

Echoing moans fill the room, his hands coming to grip at your hips rapidly, holding you down like you were going to get up and leave him.

“‘S so big.”

“Fuck you’re s-so t-tight.”

You two speak at the same time in the same breathless tone. The feeling of him fully sheathed into your tight pussy is one that you could never, ever replicate. He’s reaching so deep inside you, you can feel his tip prod at your cervix. He’s splitting you open in a wicked way, ruining you. Nam-gyu opens his eyes and tilts his head to look down at where your pussy rests flush against his pelvis. Already, you’re leaking onto his skin, coating his skin in a sheen of milky-white arousal.

You lean even further forward, resting your forearms near the sides of his head on the pillow below him. You pick your hips up, the slow drag of his cock against your walls has you wincing and biting back a pathetic whine. You drop back down, the two of you moaning out in tandem. The addictive feeling of his cock completely impaling you makes you repeat the motion. Over and over and over. You’re vicious, picking up the pace with each drop of your hips. You don’t even seem to realize the effect you have on him, all you’re focused on is just how good it feels.

“F-fuck s-slow down….” Nam-Gyu is practically begging. “G-gotta savor it, y-yeah?” He tries to reason with you, but you don’t seem to oblige. You collapse forward completely, head resting in the crook of his neck. You’re shaking your head ‘no’ against him, hips driving up and down on his cock with no restraint. An obscene, wet, sloppy, slapping sound fills the room each time you slam your hips back down onto his, driving his cock deep inside your pussy.

When you disregard his plea and do exactly the opposite he swears he might have to marry you- he’d never say that openly though. His hands move to your ass, gripping the flesh until small crescents form where his nails dig into the soft skin. In his hands, he can feel the way the fat of your ass bounces, rippling underneath his palms every time you move. He’s using his hands as leverage to help lift you up and down, heightening the pleasure you’re experiencing even more.

In the minimal experience you’ve had, it’s always been painfully vanilla- always missionary. You don’t understand why you’ve never done this sooner, the way his cock dives so deep into you, reaching places no one else has reached before- it’s making you dumb. Your mind is blank, your vision hazy- all you can think about it’s reaching your climax. And every, delicious drop of your ass onto his pelvis pushes you closer and closer to that sweet release.

You two don’t even care about the fact there’s a whole group of people downstairs or even potentially listening in on what’s happening in the room. Moans, whines, and heavy breaths bounce off the walls- surely echoing throughout the studio you’re getting railed in.

“F-feels s-so g-good.” You cry out, your lips right next to his ear, each word broken up by you bouncing down on his cock. You push yourself up a bit to look at the man below you. Nam-gyu is just as fucked out as you are if not more. When he feels you sit up his eyes open, being greeted with the beautiful sight of your tits bouncing in his face with each thrust. He can’t help himself, he’s forcing his head and upper body up off the bed to latch his mouth on your chest. His teeth and tongue are working in a devious partnership against your skin, marking your flesh in blue, red and purple marks.

He pulls away from your breasts, head falling back onto the pillows, his hands tightening on your ass as he begins to fuck himself up into you. “Y-you have n-no fucking….god damn….no fucking clue how good you f-feel.” He rasps out, “riding m-me so we-well.” His voice is cracking, becoming higher pitched, he’s close. The dirty words and praise, though not spoken with a deep raspy voice, makes you lean back forward to hide your face in his neck to avoid eye contact.

You sink into his body, your back arching more. It allows your hips to snap down onto his in a barbaric way. Nam-gyu moans out your name. Hearing his name fall your lips is a nearly angelic song that has your eyes fluttering shut. He can hardly take it, he’s sure if you kept this up he was going to be ridden to tears.

He can’t hold back anymore, the tight squeeze of your cunt and the way you are coating his cock, it’s too much- he’s going to cum. “P-please let me… ohmygod… l-let me cum inside..” he’s whining into your ear, your nails dig in harder to his chest at his words. You hear him let out a strangled gasp when your cunt clenches down on him, “o-oh fuck you liked that?!” He asks breathlessly, his cock still jackhammering up into you. “You like the idea of me cumming in your pussy? Fuckin’ squeezing me so hard when i-im talking about it” He asks again, rambling in a needy tone. The words have you cringing in embarrassment- never in your life did you think the idea would turn you on- but it does.

You’re nodding into his shoulder, a weak and breathless “yes, I-inside” coming from your lips, your hair tickling his neck. “Oh my god y-yes, f-fuck thankyouthankyou.” He’s babbling out. He shifts, bending his knees and planting his feet on the bed. He begins to drill is cock up into your cunt. It’s a pace that has you crying out into his neck, jolting against his body mindlessly. His grip on your ass is bruising, he’s using the flesh as leverage to drag you down on his thick length. “Gonna feel so f-fucking good to fill you up. Fuck! Cunts’ gonna look so good with my cum spilling out.”

He’s mindlessly babbling, the feeling of your tight cunt gripping his dick like a vice has him in a dumb haze. All he can think about is cumming balls deep inside your walls. “Y-you close?” He asks, his shoulder nudging your face to get you to pull your head up to look at him. You use all your strength to sit up, looking down at him. Your hair falls down the sides of your face, shielding him in a low light that makes him look even more attractive, highlighting his sharp features and darkening his eyes even more than they were.

You nod, your hand splaying out on his sternum to keep yourself upright. You look down at him and nod, your body bouncing with watch thrust. You let out a ‘uh-huh.’ through your bit lip, your orgasm beginning to blossom from deep within you. Every time his fat cock-head bullies its way deep inside your cunt, brushing against your g-spot to kiss against your cervix, you’re letting out a wanton cry of his name.

“C-cum for me…f-fuck…need to feel you soak my cock.” One of his hands is slipping in between the two of you, his thumb rubbing against your clit, flicking against the sensitive bud in rapid motions. “F-fuck! Nam-gyu! Oh my fucking god!” You cry out, your eyebrows turning up as you feel yourself about to cum. He doesn’t let up, he’s brutally thrusting into your cunt a wet sloshing sound begins to come from your cunt.

It feels different than any orgasm you’ve had, you’ve never felt something like this. It almost feels like too much. You almost think you’re going to pee. “W-wait ‘s too much!” You’re whining out, despite your protests your hips are rutting against his fingers and slamming back into each one of his thrusts. “F-fuck are you gonna squirt??” He asks with a proud grin on his face- you really were just like his dreams.

“W-what?” You struggle to get out. Fuck you just got even better, so innocent you don’t even know what’s about to happen. He’s only seen it in porn, and he’s watched enough of it to know the signs- the way your cunt keeps getting louder and the way you’re beginning to shake violently- he knows what’s about to happen. But you don’t and it’s so fucking cute.

“Relax. L-let go, ‘s normal.” He rasps out, fingers working quicker at your clit and his cock piledriving up into your sopping hole with no remorse. You have no other option but to listen to him. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, you’re falling forward onto him and sobbing out into his neck. Your orgasm is so much harder than anyone than before, your cum gushing out of you like a fountain. Anytime he thrusts into you it splashes out of you in a lewd spray that coats the sheets below you.

The way your cunt is sucking his cock in like you’re trying to milk him and spasming violently around him sends him hurling towards his end. You can feel the way his thick load fills you, every rope painting your insides white. He lazily continues to thrust up into you, trying to drag out his orgasm and yours. You can feel his cum spill out of you and around his cock only for the next thrust to fuck it back into you.

You’re panting into his neck, soft moans falling from your lips as his softening cock grinds into you. He thinks he’s in heaven and he never wants to leave. His legs flatten out, dropping you all the way down on his lap. You whine, overstimulated. He’s running a hand up your back in a soothing motion. “I k-know..please…just want to be inside you a little longer.” He coos in a pleading voice. You don’t oppose, you just nod limply into his neck, lips placing light kisses on his skin. It was an honest innocent gesture, but when he feels your lips against his skin his cock is begging to harden inside you.

You two have been far too focused on other things to notice that when you were locked in this room- you weren’t actually locked in. Thanos and your friend only stayed to hold the door for a couple minutes, the drugs downstairs calling to them louder than the idea of keeping the door shut. The door would have been able to be opened by the time you born first sat down on the bed.

The loser!namgyu / awkward!namgyu is becoming a fave of mine. It’s so fucking fun to write!!! He’s so ummy 😩. I hope all you Loser!namgyu lovers enjoyed!!! - <3 kiwi

Queue for the next 5 upcoming requests: DeadbeadBabydaddy! Namgyu x reader smut , Namgyu x reader angst into fluff , Myung-Gi x reader x Thanos smut , Sub!Needy!Nam-gyu x reader x Thanos , Thanos x reader smut

If you don’t see your request on the queue just yet, don’t fret 🫶 I’m working my way through them and after each one is posted the queue will update to the next 5 requests that I have in my inbox. I try my best to work in the order of which they were received. Requests are still open just be aware that it will take a bit for me to get to it, but I absolutely will get to it!

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

🔥🖤𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝑶𝒏 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆 🔥🖤

💌Welcome to 7 Days, 7 Posts! In honor of Valentine’s Day on February 14th, I’m releasing seven blog posts dedicated to love, intimacy, passion, and everything that ignites the flames. Join me on this journey as I share my insights on astrological placements that spark attraction, create chemistry, and merge souls.

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𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖠𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 💗 Sagittarius Moon

Before Venus in Aries comes into play, the Sagittarius Moon captivates them because they’re always somewhere the Venus in Aries is not. When they finally see them in a position where they are, it feels like they’ve caught someone who is always running away. Aries loves nothing more than a playful challenge to see how far they can go to get the person they truly want. The Sagittarius Moon satisfies this, giving them the feeling of having someone they thought they couldn’t get—but now, they have them.

The Sagittarius Moon doesn’t like being caught, so while they give Venus in Aries attention, they continue on with their own life. The Sagittarius Moon doesn’t get caught up in Aries Venus’s attention, and Aries Venus likes this because it feels like a temptation. It’s like a piece of meat hanging in front of them that they want to devour. But just as they’re about to “eat,” the meat disappears, and now they have to chase after it again. This is why Venus in Aries is drawn to the Sagittarius Moon.

The Sagittarius Moon can’t be bogged down or easily bothered. They’re strong and powerful, which makes Aries Venus feel like they’ve met someone who not only challenges them but also won’t cave in or fall for them so easily. The Sagittarius Moon is someone who’s busy, with a full life and other things to tend to, and they make it clear they don’t have time just for one person. This intrigues Venus in Aries, who values independence. As a result, Aries Venus becomes more intrigued, excited, and motivated to pursue them.

For Venus in Aries, the best match in moon signs is the Sagittarius Moon. The Sagittarius Moon enjoys the chase just as much, finding it fun and exhilarating. They appreciate the passion and drive Venus in Aries brings, as it adds an exciting dynamic to their relationship.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝖺𝗎𝗋𝗎𝗌 💖 Taurus Moon

Venus in Taurus loves the Taurus Moon for many reasons. Both Venus in Taurus and the Taurus Moon are slow-paced when it comes to relationships. They don’t like to rush things because they feel that moving too fast ruins the whole experience. They each have a plot in mind, and Taurus Venus wants to follow this plot. Taurus Moon gracefully goes along with it because they also don’t want to rush. They understand that rushing into a relationship doesn’t allow those deep, gooey romantic feelings to develop.

This combination works so well because Taurus Venus wants to take things slow. Even on the first date, they just want to genuinely get to know each other. Taurus Moon, in turn, is focused on seeing if Taurus Venus is stable and consistent. While Taurus Venus is getting a sense of Taurus Moon’s calmness and chill nature, Taurus Moon is evaluating Taurus Venus’s stability. This dynamic excites Taurus Venus because, while they love romance, they crave a romance that feels stable and enduring. They seek a lasting commitment, not just a fleeting romance. And Taurus Moon fulfills all of those desires.

Whenever Taurus Venus wants to be sensually pleased, when their five senses are aroused, Taurus Moon is there to provide. When Taurus Venus wants a hug or simply wants to be held, Taurus Moon is ready to embrace them. If Taurus Venus wants to go out to dinner, with a candle in the middle of the table and the two of them looking into each other’s eyes, Taurus Moon is happy to make this happen. And if Taurus Venus needs more time to think about a commitment but wants to express how much they care, Taurus Moon understands because they are in no rush. For Taurus Moon, slow and steady wins the race.

This combination is one where Taurus Venus feels like they’ve found someone who wants the same kind of romance. They meet someone who isn’t too intense or overly eager, but someone who helps them relax and feels profoundly romantic. Taurus Venus is satisfied because they’ve found someone who shares their desire for a lasting, nurturing romance. After a date with Taurus Moon, Taurus Venus will feel fulfilled, and Taurus Moon will want to share good food, watch the sunset, hold hands, and caress each other. It’s a sweet, gooey, beautiful romance.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖦𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂 💖 𝖫𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Gemini falls for the Libra Moon because Venus in Gemini seeks more than just a fun time. For them, a good time is not simply about going to places that are fun, but about engaging with the right people—those who satisfy them, bring stimulating conversations, spark new ideas, and offer fresh connections. Libra Moon, a natural socialite, is always out and about, showing up at events and seeking new connections, often without even realizing it. This creates the perfect space for Venus in Gemini to engage. They’re always ready to talk and initiate a conversation, and Libra Moon is flattered by this attention.

Libra Moon loves when people take an interest in them, and Venus in Gemini certainly does. There are several things that Venus in Gemini finds appealing about Libra Moon. First, Libra Moon is classy, exuding elegance and charm. They carry themselves well and always look put together, attracting attention with their physical presence. But it’s not just their appearance that draws Gemini in—Libra Moon also has the ability to engage in meaningful conversation. When Gemini Venus brings up a topic, Libra Moon quickly finds a way to connect with it, and once they do, they begin to speak, sharing their thoughts and insights.

Libra Moon, being an air sign, is communicative, logical, and intellectual, which makes them a perfect match for Venus in Gemini. Their conversation becomes a dynamic exchange, with both of them feeding off each other’s energy. Libra Moon can keep up with Gemini’s shifting topics, finding ways to relate to everything that Gemini says. Gemini, in turn, finds themselves relating to Libra’s responses. As the conversation deepens, both start to realize they share similar ideals, which enhances their connection.

Libra Moon is flattered by the attention, and Gemini Venus is fascinated by Libra’s ability to keep pace. Libra doesn’t just reply in passing; they engage deeply and thoughtfully, never dry or dismissive. This combination creates a fascinating, thrilling, and intellectually stimulating conversation that satisfies both of them. Unconsciously, they gravitate toward each other, drawn by their shared desire for meaningful interaction, mutual interest, and intellectual connection.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖢𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 💖 𝖳𝖺𝗎𝗋𝗎𝗌 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Cancer is enthralled when they meet the Taurus Moon. Venus in Cancer loves nothing more than being at home, relaxing, and unwinding—kicking their feet up and not doing too much. They need calmness and relaxation and can’t handle the hustle and bustle of life. After a long day, they enjoy winding down with a beautiful candle, a delicious meal, and something that occupies and entertains them until they drift off to sleep. The Taurus Moon is the perfect match for this, as they want nothing more than to do exactly what Venus in Cancer enjoys: kick up their feet, savor a drink they enjoy, eat a good meal, and relax with some form of entertainment.

They vibrate on the same level, and neither can escape the other. Venus in Cancer recognizes the Taurus Moon, and the Taurus Moon recognizes Venus in Cancer. When they meet, there’s an immediate attraction. They both bring warmth, comfort, and coziness, and the connection feels natural. There’s a familiarity between them that doesn’t create a gap but rather an energetic pull towards each other.

Taurus Moon is deeply engaged with Venus in Cancer because Cancer Venus takes its time. They’re like a slow cooker—patiently and lovingly cooking something beautiful and aromatic. The Taurus Moon is eager to savor what Cancer Venus has to offer, and the feeling is mutual. Cancer Venus appreciates that the Taurus Moon is grounded and calm. Sometimes, Cancer Venus can get overwhelmed by intense emotions, but being around the steady and composed Taurus Moon helps them stay grounded. Taurus Moon’s calm demeanor helps Cancer Venus find balance.

This is a relationship where they’re both in the kitchen, baking cookies and pies, and at the end of the day, they enjoy the fruits of their labor together—talking and sharing words of affirmation. Cancer Venus is nurturing, always checking in and caring for Taurus Moon, and Taurus Moon reciprocates this nurturing energy. It’s a balanced and harmonious connection. When they’re together, it feels like it was always meant to be. Venus in Cancer loves the Taurus Moon, and Taurus Moon is devoted to Cancer Venus. Cancer Venus values loyalty, and Taurus Moon is loyal and committed. This is truly a harmonious and fulfilling connection.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖫𝖾𝗈 💖 𝖫𝖾𝗈 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

The Leo Venus and Leo Moon—talk about the stars of the show, the couple that constantly entertains everyone. The one people refer to as “couple goals.” Leo Venus loves the Leo Moon because their energy is magnetic; it pulls them in effortlessly. Both are bold lovers who don’t hold back—they dive in headfirst and assert themselves with ease, thanks to their charisma and charm. Together, they hook and reel each other in.

Leo Venus loves to have fun. They are light-hearted and seek excitement. They’re drawn to the Leo Moon, who is more reserved with their attention and boldness, but that quietness is loud to Leo Venus. They see the power in the Leo Moon before even speaking to them. Leo Venus is captivated by how the Leo Moon expresses itself, and at times, the Leo Moon’s creative expression inspires the Leo Venus. This relationship is truly inspirational, with both individuals exchanging ideas and feeding off each other’s energy.

Passionate about keeping the fire alive, they ensure there is never a dull moment. They keep each other on their toes, constantly laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Both are confident and self-assured, so neither doubts that the other has something valuable to bring into their life. When together, they smile, blush, and can’t help but radiate joy. There’s a natural, effortless entertainment between them—it’s constant stimulation, exactly what Leo Venus desires. They thrive on excitement and refuse to tolerate boredom.

Leo Moon is warm and friendly, so when they interact with people Leo Venus cares about, they ensure their presence resonates well with Leo Venus. They understand each other deeply. Both crave attention, love being the center of the spotlight, and want to feel unique and special. They give each other this feeling constantly, stroking each other’s egos like a never-ending ping-pong game of compliments. This infectious energy only strengthens their bond.

Leo Venus loves being around Leo Moon because Leo Moon’s confidence elevates their own, making them feel even more secure in the connection. Their energy bounces off each other effortlessly. Both value loyalty immensely. Initially, they focus on fun, relaxed, and enjoyable moments, but over time, their bond deepens. Once they truly lock in, their loyalty is unbreakable—a bond as secure as a locked safe, one that can last a lifetime.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖵𝗂𝗋𝗀𝗈 💖 𝖢𝖺𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Virgo is hard to please, let’s admit it. Venus in Virgo has high standards and isn’t going to settle for the bare minimum. This is where Capricorn Moon steps in and really reels in the Virgo Venus, because Capricorn Moon has high standards of their own—standards that are far from ordinary. Their standards are higher than a basketball player’s jump, higher than a skyscraper, even higher than an airplane—out of this galaxy. Capricorn Moon doesn’t back down from the fact that they need to work hard in life and produce results. They know that life requires seriousness, and Virgo Venus loves this about them. They admire Capricorn Moon’s ambition, drive, and determination to succeed. Capricorn Moon wants the finer things in life, and Virgo Venus enjoys those things as well. Being with Capricorn Moon feels like not only will Virgo Venus enjoy a life of luxury, but that Capricorn Moon itself is one of those finer things because they look so good and draw them in with their tantalizing image.

Virgo Venus doesn’t find much to criticize about Capricorn Moon, because Capricorn Moon isn’t overtly expressive with their emotions. They remain calm, chill, and seemingly unshakable, and Virgo Venus feels like they’ve found a stable partner who can bring order into their life rather than chaos. This is exactly what Virgo Venus craves. What Capricorn Moon appreciates about Virgo Venus is that they take their time. Virgo Venus isn’t in a rush, so Capricorn Moon doesn’t feel pressured to fall in love quickly. They prefer a slow simmer to a boil, and Virgo Venus is on the same wavelength. Virgo Venus needs time to vet someone and ensure they are the right person. Capricorn Moon is always willing to prove themselves, surpassing Virgo Venus’s expectations. They are determined to succeed in this lifetime, and their persistence makes Virgo Venus take notice.

Capricorn Moon also respects Virgo Venus’s need for space. Virgo Venus is busy—they have work to do, responsibilities to handle, and a life outside of their relationship. Capricorn Moon understands this and focuses on their own work, handling their business without distraction. Virgo Venus appreciates the stability Capricorn Moon provides, as well as their ambition and success. The glamour of Capricorn Moon is something Virgo Venus admires, just as Capricorn Moon is drawn to the clean, refined aesthetic of Virgo Venus. They both love looking good, and together, they make an aesthetically pleasing couple. Neither one of them thrives in chaos; they both prefer to keep their heads level and grounded.

Moreover, Virgo Venus will perfect things that Capricorn Moon may overlook. Capricorn Moon has blind spots, but they will encourage Virgo Venus to keep going, especially when Virgo Venus wants to give up. Capricorn Moon believes in hard work, perseverance, and time—and they help Virgo Venus understand that success is attainable with these qualities. Their relationship is deeply supportive and encouraging. Acts of service come naturally, and things tend to manifest faster when they are together. Virgo Venus and Capricorn Moon help each other achieve goals that may have been difficult to attain on their own, making their partnership a powerful and fulfilling one.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖫𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺 💖 𝖫𝖾𝗈 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

The Libra Venus is absolutely captivated by the Leo Moon. For Libra Venus, love is everything. They just want to exist in love, to be enveloped in it. Leo, with its charming, romantic, and affectionate energy, is the perfect match for Libra. And just like Libra, Leo is deeply in love with love. However, Leo Moon keeps it cool and collected. They play it calm, quietly confident, while engaging in a pleasant conversation with Libra Venus.

As Libra Venus slowly falls for the Leo Moon’s charm, they’re drawn in not just by the words, but by Leo Moon’s entire aura. Leo Moon’s charm is magnetic because they don’t even need to say much. It’s in the way they look, their facial expressions, their body language—everything they do exudes an irresistible pull. Libra Venus is captivated, idealizing Leo Moon, who lives up to these expectations every time. When Leo Moon steps out, they always look and smell incredible, and Libra Venus can’t get enough. It’s like they’re chasing after Leo Moon, convinced that they’re the perfect person for them.

On top of that, Libra Venus values loyalty, and Leo Moon is a person who embodies it. They’re devoted to their friends, family, and loved ones, which resonates deeply with Libra Venus. To them, Leo Moon isn’t just a good person—they’re a loyal person, someone who they could be committed to for the long haul. Libra Venus loves being around Leo Moon, and when they’re in the same room, the energy between them is electric. Libra Venus is eager to talk, to connect, and to relate to Leo Moon. They ask the right questions, the kind of questions that pique Leo Moon’s interest.

Leo Moon appreciates this because they love being the center of attention, especially when it comes from someone they’re drawn to. As they talk, they put themselves in the spotlight, and Libra Venus is absorbing it all, enchanted by Leo Moon’s confidence. Libra Venus feels like they’ve found someone who not only they can fall in love with, but who is also knowledgeable, confident, and about their business.

Libra Venus becomes obsessed. They’re constantly thinking about Leo Moon, wanting to call them, wanting to talk to them, always wondering what Leo Moon is doing. Leo Moon loves to go out and have fun, and Libra Venus wants the same. This is a couple that knows how to have fun. They listen to the same music, share the same playlists, and always snap pictures together. They’re the couple that charms everyone around them, and people can’t help but be drawn to their magnetic energy. They’re the type of couple where you’d happily be a part of their world—maybe even a throuple. Their connection keeps each other yearning for more, and their aesthetic is undeniable. Whenever they step out, they turn heads. They’re the couple everyone envies, the couple that always looks stunning, and everyone wants a piece of.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖲𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗂𝗈 💖 𝖢𝖺𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Scorpio’s best moon match is Capricorn Moon. Venus in Scorpio is fierce. They aren’t looking for ordinary love—they don’t want someone who stands out with boldness and obvious displays of affection. While Venus in Scorpio can be bold internally, they tend to be more reserved, preferring mystery and subtlety, which is exactly what draws them to Capricorn Moon. Capricorn Moon is quiet, reserved, and observant, much like Venus in Scorpio. Both are naturally introspective, watching the world around them, and when their eyes meet, they instantly recognize something deep beneath the surface. There’s an intensity between them, raw and untouchable, yet undeniable. It’s not something tangible but something energetic that binds them.

Venus in Scorpio is drawn to Capricorn Moon’s quiet nature. They love the fact that Capricorn Moon is reserved and not loud or showy, which mirrors their own preference for keeping things low-key and out of the spotlight. They don’t want anything overt or flashy; they want subtlety, and Capricorn Moon provides just that. Similarly, Capricorn Moon is intrigued by Venus in Scorpio because Scorpio doesn’t seek attention or validation. Capricorn senses that Scorpio holds power, but it’s a type of power that can only be unlocked through trust and patience. Capricorn enjoys the challenge of unraveling this mystery, and Scorpio’s reluctance to reveal themselves only adds to their intrigue.

For Venus in Scorpio, building trust and loyalty is essential, and Capricorn Moon understands that. Capricorn doesn’t rush things. They take their time, allowing the connection to grow slowly and steadily. This pacing works well for Venus in Scorpio, who can develop their trust in Capricorn Moon without feeling rushed. Capricorn Moon is emotionally steady, like a hard rock, and even when Venus in Scorpio is going through a difficult time, Capricorn Moon doesn’t need to be constantly affectionate or present. They understand that Venus in Scorpio may need space to process emotions, and that’s something Venus in Scorpio deeply appreciates. It allows them to internalize their feelings without fear that the connection will falter.

This is a relationship built on deep, dark energy. Both partners are intense, and when they come together, the passion between them is undeniable. Over time, the relationship blossoms into something profound: intimate, loyal, and fiercely devoted. The loyalty between them is unshakeable. They are determined to make the relationship work, putting in the effort and energy to build something lasting. Venus in Scorpio brings intense passion, loyalty, and determination, while Capricorn Moon offers unwavering devotion, stability, and an unbreakable bond. This couple is like Bonnie and Clyde—ride or die. They are always by each other’s side, committed to one another above all else.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖲���𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗌 💖 𝖠𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗌 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Sagittarius Venus and Aquarius Moon make a fascinating pairing. When we talk about the Aquarius Moon being ice, the Sagittarius Venus is the water that slowly melts it. Sagittarius Venus is a boss, not one to play around, and Aquarius Moon is equally a boss. They both stand firm in their beliefs, having shaped them over time through experience and intellect. Neither of them is willing to compromise on these core values, which makes them both powerful and independent individuals.

Sagittarius Venus sees in Aquarius Moon someone deeply intellectual and stimulating. Conversations with Aquarius are engaging and can make time fly. An hour feels like ten minutes when Sagittarius Venus is talking to Aquarius Moon. On the other hand, Aquarius Moon is captivated by the larger-than-life energy of Sagittarius Venus. Every word Sagittarius Venus speaks is infused with excitement and comes with a story. Aquarius Moon loves to listen because Sagittarius Venus has lived a full, adventurous life—nothing about them is boring. The energy is mutual: Sagittarius Venus is always learning something new from Aquarius Moon, satisfying their curiosity.

Aquarius Moon, in return, enjoys the space they get when Sagittarius Venus moves on to their next adventure. Sagittarius Venus is constantly chasing the next discovery or solving problems, so they don’t mind taking a step back from Aquarius Moon. Aquarius Moon appreciates this freedom because it gives them the time they need to pursue their own interests. They aren’t bothered that Sagittarius Venus is off doing their own thing; in fact, they find it refreshing. The next time they meet, they have a wealth of new stories to share, and Sagittarius Venus is amazed by how much Aquarius Moon can experience in such a short time.

Both signs are open-minded and adventurous, constantly pushing the boundaries of their usual routines. Sagittarius Venus invites Aquarius Moon on new adventures, and Aquarius Moon is more than happy to break free from their routine to join in. Both are unconventional, disliking being put into boxes, and they refuse to confine each other to one. They each want freedom, and they respect that in one another.

Their relationship doesn’t start off in the traditional romantic sense; instead, it begins with basic camaraderie, mutual respect, and a shared curiosity to get to know each other. They both value their independence, and they never fully lose it in the relationship. Instead, they merge in a way that allows both to maintain their individuality.

What intrigues them most is their differing perspectives: Sagittarius Venus is philosophical and intellectual in the way they approach life, while Aquarius Moon is intellectual in how they think and express their ideas. Both are idealistic and future-oriented, which creates a natural connection as they discuss their visions for the future together.

This relationship is built on a love that merges the two people while keeping their independence intact. It’s a love that stimulates both mentally, keeps them curious, and allows them to grow together through new experiences. Change isn’t difficult for either of them—Sagittarius, as a mutable sign, craves it, and Aquarius Moon eventually needs it. This dynamic keeps their bond fresh and exciting. Together, they’re a perfect match—this is a relationship that is both stimulating and deeply satisfying for both individuals.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖢𝖺𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇 💖 𝖳𝖺𝗎𝗋𝗎𝗌 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Capricorn falls in love with the Taurus Moon, and together, they embody a classic, demure approach to life. Both prefer tradition and stability, avoiding anything rough or unconventional. They value tried-and-true methods, understanding that hard work and persistence are key to success. This is a couple that rises from humble beginnings to achieve great things. Over time, they manifest their dreams and buy the mansion they had their eye on a decade ago, now living in the life they envisioned.

Venus in Capricorn is determined and goal-oriented. They are a dominant sign and want to take control and make moves. Taurus Moon, more receptive and feminine, appreciates this. Taurus Moon enjoys being courted and wined and dined; they move slowly, as does Capricorn Venus. Neither moves fast, but both know that their steady pace will ultimately lead to success. They understand the importance of patience in the journey, knowing that they will eventually win the race because they are committed to reaching the end.

Capricorn Venus is drawn to the way Taurus Moon presents themselves—refined, elegant, and classy. Taurus Moon prefers simplicity, looking good without overdoing it. Their approach is natural and understated, which resonates deeply with Capricorn Venus. Capricorn Venus appreciates this simplicity, absorbing it and falling in love with it. They find comfort in the grounded and steady nature of Taurus Moon.

Both value hard work. Capricorn Venus is driven to succeed and build wealth in this lifetime, while Taurus Moon also seeks stability and the comfort of knowing their efforts will pay off. Taurus Moon admires Capricorn Venus’s ambition, which motivates them to push past their own comfort zone and achieve more. Together, they combine Capricorn Venus’s vision with Taurus Moon’s creativity, blending practicality and hard work to make their dreams a reality.

This couple creates a beautiful, successful life together. Their home is a reflection of their achievements, and they are supportive of one another. Working together as a team comes naturally. Capricorn Venus will take the lead when necessary, and Taurus Moon, ever receptive, listens and acts accordingly. Taurus Moon appreciates that Capricorn Venus is working hard to provide a comfortable life, while also maintaining balance. Capricorn Venus respects that Taurus Moon doesn’t overreact and remains steady, even when life is challenging. Taurus Moon is calm, asking the right questions and offering quiet support.

Their love is steady and enduring. Venus in Capricorn values the slow, deliberate pace of their relationship, while Taurus Moon brings sensuality and patience. Capricorn Venus is attentive, learning the body of Taurus Moon to bring them pleasure. In return, Taurus Moon feels supported and valued, allowing their connection to deepen. Their communication is clear and focused on getting to the heart of matters. Both appreciate tangible expressions of love, such as thoughtful gifts, and they reciprocate these gestures with ease.

This is a reciprocal relationship where both partners help each other grow and achieve their goals. It’s a romance for a lifetime, built on mutual respect and a shared vision of success. Over time, Taurus Moon enjoys a more relaxed, subtle life, where they can savor the rewards of their labor, while Capricorn Venus remains ever-vigilant for opportunities to further elevate their lives together. This is a love that evolves and strengthens with time, a partnership that will stand the test of time.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖠𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗌 💖 𝖦𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

As I mentioned in previous posts, Venus in Aquarius is ice-cold, like a block of ice that needs something to warm it up and melt it, allowing it to merge and unify with another person. And who does that? Gemini Moon. Gemini Moon has the ability to talk Aquarius Venus into warmth because Gemini Moon is persuasive. While Aquarius Venus may be fixed in its ways, Gemini Moon’s charm and suaveness can easily convince Aquarius Venus that they indeed need Gemini Moon.

This connection is instant because their minds connect first, before anything else. Aquarius Venus notices Gemini Moon’s wandering mind and sees them as a thinker—ready to engage and talk. Aquarius Venus, who is constantly deep in thought about the future, dreams, goals, and visions, is equally perceptive and always observing the world around them. Both Gemini and Aquarius share this observational nature, trying to figure out who they want to engage with and how to navigate the world. Aquarius Venus tends to be more standoffish, not easily engaging with others, but when Gemini Moon approaches, it sparks something.

Gemini Moon doesn’t hesitate to jump in, and Aquarius Venus respects that. Aquarius, cold by nature, needs someone to warm them up, and Gemini Moon doesn’t mind. There’s no pride or shame—Gemini Moon naturally has charisma, and their words flow effortlessly. They can talk about one subject and seamlessly transition to another, which entices Aquarius Venus, drawing them in deeper.

Gemini Moon is flexible and mutable, allowing Aquarius Venus’s fixed beliefs and ideas about life to take center stage. Aquarius Venus can set the tone for the conversation, and Gemini Moon will adapt, discussing future possibilities in technology or whatever else Aquarius Venus wants to explore. Both are future-oriented and problem-solvers, thinking quickly and efficiently. While Aquarius Venus has a quirky, unconventional way of thinking, Gemini Moon is versatile, constantly shifting between different thoughts. Together, they bring a refreshing and stimulating dynamic to each other’s minds.

Both enjoy socializing, and Aquarius Venus might want to hang out with friends or engage in other activities. Gemini Moon isn’t bothered by this—they either want to join Aquarius Venus or have their own plans with other people. There’s no need for 24/7 companionship, which allows Aquarius Venus to retreat into their coldness, maintaining their individuality. Gemini Moon also values independence and wants to be on the go, exploring intellectual curiosities and connecting with others. This freedom to explore their own interests and build new relationships allows both to thrive.

Gemini Moon gets bored easily, but Aquarius Venus offers something uniquely intriguing. Aquarius Venus remains difficult to figure out, and for Gemini Moon, solving the mystery of this ice-cold block is like slowly learning how to melt it and reach the heart of Aquarius Venus. This constant intrigue keeps Gemini Moon engaged.

The combination of Uranus (Aquarius’s ruling planet) and Mercury (Gemini’s ruling planet) creates a smart, powerful couple. This is an intelligent duo that constantly bounces ideas off each other, curating visions of the future. Together, they solve problems efficiently and quickly, often predicting trends before they even happen. Their style might be unconventional at first, but soon, people start to emulate their trends. This couple is adaptable and highly efficient in moving toward the future, embracing new ideas and ways of doing things.

What makes this connection special is the deep intellectual connection. Before they ever fall in love, Gemini Moon and Aquarius Venus become best friends, building camaraderie, respect, and rapport with each other. This strong foundation of friendship is the perfect starting point for a lasting relationship.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖯𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗌 💖 𝖯𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Pisces Venus craves a soulful love, and no one touches the soul quite like a Pisces Moon. When these two individuals are in the same room, they can sense each other’s presence without even making eye contact. It’s as if their energies naturally recognize one another. Pisces Venus and Pisces Moon operate on the same frequency, making their connection feel destined.

Pisces Venus finds Pisces Moon intriguing because of their dreamy, introspective nature. Both are lost in their own worlds, more focused on their imagination, fantasies, and unfulfilled experiences than on external reality. They are seekers—craving something deeper, something that touches the soul. Pisces Moon embodies that depth, and Pisces Venus instinctively understands it.

One thing Pisces Venus admires about Pisces Moon is that their depth isn’t solely emotional—it’s an innate love for life and people. Pisces Venus, who also feels like a lover at heart, sees Pisces Moon as a perfect match—a kindred spirit, a soulmate, perhaps even a twin flame. This connection feels fated, like the love they have always dreamed of.

Pisces Venus appreciates Pisces Moon’s need for solitude. For Pisces Venus, nothing is more comforting than coexisting with someone in peaceful silence, without the need for constant conversation, drama, or excess. Just sitting together, sharing music, locking eyes, or enjoying simple, intimate moments is enough to create an overwhelming sense of romance. They don’t need grand gestures—a quiet walk in the park, a deep conversation, or a shared dream is more than enough to make their love feel magical.

Pisces Venus idolizes Pisces Moon for their unconditional love, and the best part is, Pisces Moon lives up to the ideal. They are the ultimate lover—deeply caring, wise, and compassionate. Pisces Venus longs to unravel the layers of the Pisces Moon, discovering more and more of their soul. In return, Pisces Moon adores Pisces Venus for their affectionate, tender, and nurturing nature. Pisces Venus brings a touch of magic—through their love, affection, and dreamy presence—something that Pisces Moon deeply appreciates.

This connection flows effortlessly. Pisces Moon is highly adaptable to the energy of Pisces Venus, allowing the Venus person to feel like they can fully merge with them. There is no resistance—only acceptance, willingness, and an intuitive understanding of each other’s needs. Pisces Moon reciprocates the love that Pisces Venus so generously gives, creating a relationship built on a constant exchange of tenderness, kindness, and devotion.

Their love feels profoundly spiritual, as if simply existing near each other is more than just being together—it’s an ethereal experience. Even the simplest, most mundane moments take on a dreamlike quality. Their energies vibrate at the same frequency, forming an unspoken, almost telepathic connection. They intuitively sense what the other needs without words.

This is a relationship filled with love, giving, and mutual compromise. Both are willing to adjust to each other’s rhythms, adapting seamlessly to the other’s essence. Their love feels endless, like they are constantly falling for each other over and over again. It’s as if they are locked into a vibration of pure understanding, making their bond feel eternal—an everlasting love.

[tarotbyjam24]

Hobbies\skills to try \learn

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Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pick a piles \masterlist

Pile 1. pile 2.

pile 3. pile 4.

Pile 1

Coloring,going on outing with other groups,trying drinks [alcoholic \non alcoholic] it's your choice and discernment, meditation, recycling things , utensil art , going on ships , calisthenics, pilates,pencil sketching .

Pile 2

Chess,rangoli making or mandala art , probably making drawings of desert, journalling, recording yourself on camera or recording voice notes ,dark aesthetic makeup ,do it yourself projects .

Pile 3

Going on solo dates to cafe ,water sports , bouquet making , hand art , visiting museums and art galleries, trying grape juice, gardening ,making fashion videos like shooting OOTD etc .

Pile 4

Going to malls , 3rd eye meditation,self care , managing your finances, going to parks or forests,dinning in at your home with your friends or family,putting your views out more ,learn how to be in limelight or be the center of attention, learning to trust the process .

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[caracalla-dondus]

Suspicious Minds

Pairing: Emperor Geta/wife!reader

Summary: A senator informs Geta about the rumors surrounding his wife

Author's Note: This fic consists of pieces I took out from a much longer fic I had written. After reading what I originally wrote I didn't really vibe with the whole thing and so I took out parts I liked best to create this fic. Idk if it's better or worse because things feel a bit rushed in this fic now and not as cohesive as before but it's good enough I think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I was partly inspired by Fire & Blood where it says that some in court found Queen Rhaenys Targaryen suspicious because she spent time with bards and singers and they were sure she must be having an affair on Aegon I. Also the title is from the Elvis song of the same name because it popped into my head while writing this because it's similar to the plot lol.

~~~

The late afternoon sun streamed through the marble arches of the palace, casting shadows across the floor of the Emperor’s private chamber. Emperor Geta paced restlessly, his jaw clenched tight, his fingers twitching. The rumors had come to him this morning, carried by a senator whose words had been carefully chosen, yet laced with venom.

“She is often seen in the company of poets and bards, my Emperor. Some say perhaps too often.”

The words echoed in Geta’s mind as he strode to the balcony. Below him, others strolled about, oblivious to the storm brewing in his heart. He had always known that his wife had a fondness for the arts. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her. The way her eyes lit up when she heard the verses of a poem she thought was interesting, the soft smile that graced her lips during the final notes of a ballad. She was a woman of intelligence and charm. Perfect qualities to be his empress.

But now those very same qualities and interests had become the source of his unrest.

~

Geta finds his wife out in the garden. “I had hoped to speak with you my wife,” he said, his tone polite but firm. 

“What troubles you, my love?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she stepped closer to him.

Geta studied her, his gaze lingering on her face, searching for some sign of guilt. But she looked as she always did, serene, composed, and beautiful. “There are whispers in the court,” he began slowly, “that your affection for music and poetry has extended beyond mere appreciation.”

His wife’s eyes widened, and then she laughed softly, a sound like the chiming of bells. “Surely you don’t believe such nonsense.”

“I don’t want to,” Geta admitted, his voice low. “But the court is not kind to a woman who spends her days surrounded by other men, no matter how innocent her intentions.”

Her smile faded, and she placed a hand on his arm. “Geta, these men are poets, musicians and artists. They speak to me about the soul, not the flesh. My heart belongs to you, and only you.”

He wanted to believe her. He needed to believe her. But the thought of her laughter, her attention, her admiration being bestowed on another man gnawed at him. “Then why do others speak of you so?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly. “Why do they say you adore Bacchus so much that you have embraced his indulgences?”

His wife stiffened, her hand falling away. “Do you question my virtue?” she asked, insulted that her husband would believe such nonsense about her.

“I question the company you keep!” he snapped, the words sharper than he intended.

She took a step back, her expression conveying her hurt and frustration. “You have always known who I am Geta. I am not a woman content to sit idly in the palace, just simply gossiping my day away. I find joy in the divine chaos of creation. If that makes me suspicious in the eyes of our court then so be it. But I will not apologize for things I did not do.”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with emotion. Geta clenched his fists, his anger warring with his love for her. Finally he spoke, his voice softer. “I do not wish to stifle you. But I cannot bear the thought of others questioning your loyalty or your love for me.”

His wife stepped closer, her gaze steady. “Then let me reassure you, my emperor. I am as sure of my love for you as I am about Sol bringing us the sun each morning. But if you doubt me, then tell me what must I do to prove myself?”

He sighed, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Let the poets and bards sing their songs without you for once. Let Bacchus have his revelry elsewhere.”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “If it will ease your mind, my dear husband then I will stay.”

Geta pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the whispers that sought to undermine them. But even as he held her, a shadow of doubt lingered, refusing to be banished entirely.

~

The grand halls of the palace echoed with the click of her delicate sandals against the marble floor. The weight of her husband’s arm on her shoulder was both reassuring and suffocating. For the past three days, Geta had not let her out of his sight. Where she went, he followed. Where he could not follow, he sent his guards to watch her every step. It was unlike him, and though his paranoia was silent, she could feel it in the way his fingers tightened around her arm, in the watchful, almost desperate glint in his eyes.

She had tried to comfort him, tried to reassure him of her loyalty, but it seemed no words could pierce through the suspicion that had taken hold of him.

During a feast, Geta watched his wife like a hawk as she entertained a visiting nobleman whose son had written a collection of poems. His wife listened to the man intently, her soft smile never wavering as the man recited a verse.

But Geta saw something else. He saw how the man’s eyes lingered on her, how her laughter seemed to light up the room. His fingers dug into the armrests of his chair, his jaw tightening. Was it admiration? Was it mere courtesy? Or was there something more? The thoughts churned in his mind like a storm, dark and unrelenting.

When the man left, Geta wasted no time. He rose abruptly, crossing the room to where his wife stood.

“You enjoyed his company,” he said, his voice low but laced with accusation.

His wife blinked, startled by his tone. “He was reciting his son’s poetry, my dear husband. That’s all it was.”

“You smiled at him,” Geta pressed, his eyes narrowing. “You laughed.”

“Am I not allowed to smile and laugh?” she asked softly, though there was a tinge of frustration in her voice. “Must I always wear a sour expression to please you?”

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “You are mine,” he said, his voice trembling - not with anger, but with something deeper, something more fragile. “Your smiles, your laughter, they belong to me and no one else.”

Her eyes softened as she saw the flicker of insecurity behind his harsh words. She reached up, covering his hand with her own. “And they are yours, Geta,” she murmured. “Only yours.”

His grip loosened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might vanish. “I will not lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I cannot.”

~

For the next several days, Geta’s wife’s world shrank. Where she once wandered the gardens freely, now her husband walked beside her, his hand resting possessively on her waist. When she visited the library, he went with her. Her gatherings with poets and musicians were no more, replaced by dinners where Geta sat her beside him, his eyes never leaving her.

She tried to be understanding, but his constant scrutiny weighed heavily on her. One evening, as they sat together in their chambers, she finally spoke.

“Geta,” she began, her voice tentative. “Do you not trust me?”

He looked up from the goblet of wine in his hand, his expression guarded. “Of course I trust you, you are my wife,” he said after a long pause. “It is everyone else I do not trust.”

“You cannot keep watch over me forever,” she said.

His jaw tightened. “You are my wife,” he said firmly. “My empress. And I will not risk anyone else taking you from me.”

“Even if it means suffocating me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Geta flinched, as if her words had struck him. He set the goblet down and rose to his feet, pacing the room. “You do not understand,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I have enemies everywhere. We have enemies everywhere. They would use you against me. They would take you from me. Take your love away from me”

“Who could take me when I am yours in both heart and soul?” she asked, rising to stand before him.

He stopped, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he looked like a man on the edge of breaking, his carefully constructed armor of intimidation cracking to reveal the fear beneath. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But the thought of losing you terrifies me.”

She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. “Geta,” she said softly, “you will not lose me. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you will never leave me.”

“I promise,” she said, though her heart ached at the desperation in his voice.

He pulled her into his arms again, holding her as if his life depended on it. She sighed softly, resting her head against his chest. She understood that his possessiveness was not born of cruelty, nor out of a need to stifle her but it was of a fear he could not truly voice, a fear he could not truly reconcile with, and it had consumed him.

And so she stayed, tethered to him by her love for him, hoping that soon his insecurities would ease and he would see that she was his, not because he demanded it, but because she chose it. But she was not sure how much she could take of this suffocating behavior. Of every move of hers and every interaction being heavily watched.

~

She rarely let her frustrations boil to the surface, but this time was different. As she sat across from her husband in their private chambers, the weight of the senator’s venomous words and their impact on her marriage gnawed at her patience. For days and days now, Geta’s suffocating possessiveness had taken over every aspect of her life, and she could no longer bear the thought that this rift between them had been instigated by a man seeking to undermine her, a man seeking to replace her.

She set down her goblet with a sharp clink, her hands trembling, not with fear, but with barely restrained annoyance and anger. “I’ve been thinking, my dear husband,” she began, her voice calm but carrying an obvious edge to it.

Geta glanced up from his seat, his brow furrowing slightly at her tone. “What is it?”

She met his gaze, her eyes blazing with uncharacteristic determination. “The senator who came to you with these baseless rumors. I believe he must be punished.”

Geta blinked, clearly surprised. “Punished? For what?”

“For daring to speak against me,” she replied, her voice firm, slightly exasperated that he did not already know what she spoke of. “For poisoning your mind with lies and causing this… this chaos between us. He sought to undermine your confidence in me, to cast doubt on my loyalty, to possibly destroy my reputation. That is not something we should let go unanswered.”

Geta leaned back in his chair, studying her intently. “You surprise me, wife. I thought you were above petty revenge. You have always counseled me against such rash decisions before”

“This is not petty, nor is it rash!” she shot back, her tone sharpening. “He sought to disgrace me, your wife, your empress. By doing so, he has disgraced you as well. How can you tolerate such audacity?”

Her words struck a nerve. Geta’s insecurities flared, his mind racing as he considered her argument. She was right. The senator’s insinuations had not only called his wife’s loyalty into question but had also implied that Geta was a weak ruler, unable to control his own household. The thought made his blood boil.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, his voice low.

“Demote him. Remove him from his position. Let it be known that you will not tolerate slander against your Empress.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. “And if others see this as an act of weakness? A sign that I am blinded by my love for you?”

“Let them see it as a warning,” she countered. “Let them know that your loyalty to your wife is unwavering and that you will not allow anyone to sow baseless discord in your court.”

Her words appealed to Geta’s pride, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. After a long silence, he nodded slowly. “Very well. The senator will be dealt with. I’ll ensure his removal will be public and soon.”

Relief washed over her, though a part of her felt dissatisfied about simply just having the senator removed from his position. The senator had meddled in her marriage, made her husband watch every move she made for days now, and he deserved to face more severe consequences for it. The senator has a daughter around her age, she felt certain the senator was likely hoping to get her pushed aside to potentially make way for his daughter to get close to Geta, for her to be the next Empress of Rome. Geta’s wife seethed silently at the thought of someone replacing her, of someone attempting to steal her position. She thought about paying Caracalla a visit and informing him of the treacherous senator in their midst. He would certainly give her the dramatic reaction she wants.

Geta rose from his seat, crossing the room to stand before her. He cupped her face in his hands, his gaze softening. “You are right. I should never have allowed his words to poison my mind. You are my empress, my wife. No one will come between us again”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch and calming for a moment. “And I will always stand by your side Geta. But we must stand together, against anyone who seeks to divide us.”

Geta kissed her then, fierce and possessive, as if to reaffirm their bond. She let herself melt into the embrace, even as a small voice in the back of her mind wondered if she should push for more to be done about the senator. 

~~~~

reader can't take out her frustrations on Geta so she will take it out on the senator who started all of this instead lol

[nottriddlethis]

pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Ravenclaw!reader

summary: Mattheo has always been annoying you. So since when did the things change?

warnings: smut, oral (male!receiving), dirty talk, language, 50/50 soft!Mattheo🤷🏻‍♀️, use of pronoun 'I'

author note: dedicated to all these tiktok creators, I love you with all my deepest💞🔥 Green - Mattheo, pink - you.

. ✦ 「 ✦ me ✦ 」 ✦

It always pissed me off how Mattheo Riddle could be so perfect without trying. No, the fact that he was related to a bloody villain who had practically built a new world on bones certainly cast a shadow on him, but he handled it masterfully. He was perfect at Quidditch: dexterous movements, strong back and arm muscles. (all these girls surely were delighted, and that made me even more irritable) And if only that! He had not only strong magic, but also a bloody sharp mind. I bet he would have been the best in grades if he had cared even a little bit about it. As a Ravenclaw, the squandering of such a gift infuriated me almost from our first meeting. And I probably would have let it slide over time, if he hadn't looked at me so condescendingly, so relaxed and so… his way. If he hadn't always inserted his idiotic phrases and smiled so annoyingly wide.

He's been around all the time, barbarically stealing my peace and thoughts.

. ✦ 「 ✦ Mattheo ✦ 」 ✦

Your name is the first thing that would come to my mind if I were asked about pleasure. The pleasure of seeing those brows drawn together in anger. The pleasure of making those lips purse in irritation. The pure pleasure squeezing my cock when you scream at me, your cheeks flushing and your chest heaving wildly. Up and down, up and down. Just like my hand, which would give me pleasure much later.

Because teasing you - is the sin I'm going to die with.

. ✦ 「 ✦ Potions project ✦ 」 ✦

"If you wink at that Gryffindor one more time, I'll brew you into an impotence potion," I whispered sharply, pressing the Potions book hard to the table. His arrogance is unbelievable.

Mattheo chuckled faintly and leaned back lazily in his chair. "Are you jealous, beauty?"

I swear, I've never rolled my eyes so hard before. "I'm annoyed. That's not the same thing."

Mattheo pretended to be deep in thought, tilting his head to the side.

"So, I annoy you?"

"Wow, how did you guess?"

I continued writing, not interested in the conversation anymore. Mattheo, of course, didn't let up. He lazily ran his fingers over the pages of the book. I glanced at how his arm muscles flexed at the motion. Big and strong. Big and strong? I slap myself out of these thoughts. Mattheo then leaned closer, as if he was about to say something really important.

"You know," - he lowered his voice a little, so that I felt the warmth of his breath on my fingers, and I even cocked up my ears, "I think you spend too much energy resisting my charm."

I looked at him from under my brows, my lips pursed involuntarily. “No, I'm just too smart to be seduced by you.”

Mattheo froze, looking at me, and then… smiled. Widely, slyly, with some strange, deep interest. I kept my gaze on him longer than usual because... I've seen him smile many times but now something hot spilled from my chest. The rest is required. Let’s finish this finally. I stood up, collecting the books and getting ready to put them back in their places.

“I know,” - he said quietly behind my back. “That's why I'm crazy about you.”

I felt the heat spread even more and blossomed in my cheeks. I was about to say something harsh, but for some reason… for some reason my lips trembled slightly in a smile. I walked further to the shelves to hide my confusion. Flawless bastard. I felt his self-confident grin behind me.

"Still," he yelled, leaning back in his chair, "Impotence potion won't break me, not after I've seen you."

The students turned to snicker at his shout, and I smacked him over the head with my Advanced Potions Course.

"Keep it up, Riddle, and I'll brew you something else."

"Like a love potion?"

"Oh, aren't you already in love with me?"

I rolled my eyes, but the lack of his usual humor gripped my heart in a vice.

. ✦ 「 ✦ Charms project ✦ 」 ✦

"Is it some kind of ancient curse bringing you to be my partner in every possible project?" you muttered, and as my own ritual, I was enjoying your narrowed eyes, the beautiful wrinkle on the bridge of your nose. Right up until the moment when you slammed your bag on the table and threw off your robe. Damn Merlin would have turned around in his grave. Pure Witch.

I overheard you mutter something like "barely made it after a shower" and deservedly praised the creator of muggle clothing. The blue top with wonderfully thin straps hugged your rounded breasts and outlined your waist. Do you think it's not enough for a rock hard cock? Think again.

You sat down at the table and the mounds of your breasts were almost next to my drool-filled mouth. Just an arm's length away. Bin-go.

"You know, you could work at Mungo's…", you looked up warily at my words, and I continued, "well, treat impotence, for example." "Mattheo…", here was a beautiful blush on your cheeks and liquid fury in your charming eyes. Pleasure when you always switch to my name when you are furious. I watched you leaned on the table and bent over. Breasts pressed against each other from the pressure. And my cock definitely felt it too. "So, judging by how much you mention this disease, it is something personal, right?"

"And will you help me?"

You demonstratively sat back and pulled out a parchment from your bag. This project will be just as long.

***

"… you still double-check my every word. So what's the point of writing?" I tore my gaze from your thin fingers clutching the quill and moved it to your eyes. Of course, stopping my gaze on the cleavage along the way. An absolute gorgeous.

"I just won't include your name in the work," you said seriously. And a smirk determined my next steps. One wave of my hand, and I leaned closer to inspect my work. Your quill, which had just been supposed to write down a list of counter-curses, wrote in my handwriting: Mattheo Riddle.

You frowned. Crossed out the name and tried again.

Mattheo Riddle.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you turned sharply to me. "You." How I missed your attention, beautiful.

"Me?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what" I leaned closer, looking at your scribbled sheet. "Oh, my. Apparently your body recognized me before your brain did."

And for about 10 minutes, you tried to disenchant the quill. With each unsuccessful - literally all - spell, the quill wagged its tip and its feathers slapped your cheek.

"If only you'd used half that power of yours to study…" you threw your hands up in indignation. I watched as your breasts jumped with the movement. How loudly would you scream if I bit them now? How deeply would you blush if I pulled that damn top down? How angry would you be if…

A sly smile spread across my face. I looked up, catching your movement. Just as your fingers closed around the quill, intending to break it, I jerked my hand, whispering a spell.

And I was ready to undo in my pants as soon as the tip of the quill rested against your round breasts. You froze, looking at it. It came letter after letter, and it felt like a measured jerking of my cock.

Mattheo Riddle.

Black on your breasts.

And the last thing I remember before I managed to run away from the rage in your eyes is your sweet open mouth, incredibly red cheeks and neck, and the most fucking hard nipples sticking out under the fabric of your top.

. ✦ 「 ✦ Astronomy project ✦ 」 ✦

I had washed off the ink long ago, but for the second week in a row, every time Mattheo Riddle looked at me, my chest burned and I felt every letter of his name. It burned in a way I would never admit, as behind the closed curtains of the bed, I ran my hand over my chest, shuddered, and went lower and lower. And only when I came silently on my hand - imagining his broad forearms, muscular back, and dirty whispers - did the burning calm down.

Tonight, the Astronomy project was separate for everyone and everyone finished closer to 1.30 am. We were sitting at low round tables with food, specially organized for late practices.

The damn feeling that Mattheo knew everything tickled me from the very beginning. He sat at the next table, constantly smiling at Blaise and completely ignoring me. Worse, his body was clinging to a single black T-shirt. And then, as if sensing my gaze, Mattheo stretched - invitingly, slowly - flexing his muscles, and exposing a strip of skin above his belt. For Merlin's sake! I turned away, but only to notice unpleasantly that I was not the only one who appreciated his actions. The girls were devouring him with their eyes. I pursed my lips. Don't you look at him. Just for a second I imagined if Matteo became tired of all these jokes for me, and one of these girls would capture his attention instead. Jealosy washed all of my feelings off.

I came to my senses when I was poked in the side and I heard Mattheo calling. He was looking at me attentively and holding a bowl in his hands. "What?" I whispered with my lips only and managed not to smile.

There were strawberries in the bowl. "Damn delicious. Just like you." Mattheo saluted me with the bowl and groped with his other hand on his desk. I felt the usual tension in my chest, my thighs moved together, my pussy clenched. But I didn't have time to answer him.

"And this is me," Mattheo raised his other hand and deliberately slowly poured thick white cream into the bowl. I watched without blinking as the viscous liquid dripped, came into contact with the pink strawberries, mixed and filled everything.

Gasps of surprise and confusion came from all around, and I could literally feel the girls staring at us.

So keep your eyes open then. I reached for the bowl and snatched it from Mattheo. I looked only at his eyes - blackened and insolent - and brought the bowl to my mouth and took a few sips. Pink drops ran down my chin from the edges of the wide bowl.

It was pure pleasure to watch his eyes open, devouring my movements. His mouth parted and a heavy breath escaped it. He couldn't help but understand my hint, as I did his. I would have given him 100 points for his clenched jaws, and all 1000 for the bulging veins on his tense hands.

Only one thought was troubling me at that moment - if only after the lesson there wouldn't be wet traces left on the fabric pouf under my panties.

. ✦ 「 ✦ - pre-quidditch? ✦ 」 ✦

The irritating tension of the final cup match almost reached the level of irritation at the lack of you. Malfoy doubled the training, Zabini scheduled free time to study strategy. Although the only strategy that worried me was 'how to finally get you'. Undoing three times in a row that night only because of the thick drops on your chin didn't seem enough. The cock throbbed to be inside your throat.

Two hours before the match the mood was furious. I last saw you at breakfast, talking to Nott about something. That's where the rage started. Well, that's pretty nice fuel for an important game, I decided, walking last to the team's locker room. The last thing I expected was to be suddenly pushed into a spare and dark room. The whisper of a locking spell reached for my ears. My cock recognized that whisper before I did and twitched. The whole world went off as I watched you go down on your knees. Am I already the winner?

. ✦ 「 ✦ - pre-quidditch. ✦ 」 ✦

I saw how Mattheo's eyes widened in surprise as I suddenly pulled him to the wall and sank to my knees before him. A light blush spread across his pale cheeks, highlighting his shock at my bold move. Perfect. Perfectly Mattheo Riddle in his tight quidditch uniform towered over me distracted and vulnerable. His breath hitched in his throat as my gaze met his, a flicker of desire mixed with confusion in his dark eyes.

"D..don't think I don't like it but now.., beauty?" he stammered, his usually confident demeanor cracking slightly. Despite his words, his hips twitched forward almost unconsciously, drawn to my proximity. I rolled my tongue over my gums in anticipation and studied him.

He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His hands hovered uncertainly at his sides, itching to reach out and touch but hesitant to some reason. The dim candlelight cast shadows across his toned chest and abs, visible through his partially unbuttoned team shirt. Merlin help me, he is so flawless. Puppy eyes for such an arrogant nature.

His eyes flicked down to my lips, then back up to meet my gaze. The air between us was charged with a new kind of tension, a mix of flirtation and vulnerability. I licked my lips slowly and almost approach them to his pants' zipper. Mattheo let out a heavy breath, his hands clenched into fists. I ghost the zipper outline with my lips, feeling his groin was already rock hard. I licked it with a tip of my tongue. All along.

His primal groan sent shivers down my spine right into the already soaking pussy. His hands flew up to grab me but..

"Touch me and I'll stop, Riddle"

"No, you bloody witch..." Mattheo pleaded but obeyed. His hands fell to his sides, and he closed his eyes to seek some control.

A pleasant choked moan escaped his swollen lips as I boldly undid his pants in few swift motions, freeing his hard, throbbing cock. Sweet, so fucking sweet finally. It sprang up, already leaking precum from the purplish head. He shuddered, seemed to fight the urge to guide my head down.

"Fuck, please, beauty... if you keep this up, you're going to be the death of me," he panted, his voice strained with desperation. His hips twitched with the need to thrust into hot mouth.

As my hand wrapped around his thick shaft and stroked him, Mattheo couldn't help but let out a loud, wanton moan. His cock pulsed and jumped in my grip, the veins along the underside throbbing with his racing heartbeat. Despite his desperate moaning his words still raw and seducing, "Ohhh fuck... ur fuckin little fingers feels s' good...but bet your little pink pussy is tight even for them."

My pussy clenched in responce, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. "So think about how your cock will be tightly squeezed inside", i teased him.

His only answer was my groaned name.

That's when I reached forward and took him fully into my mouth at once. Mattheo threw his head back and let out a desperate, whining sound that echoed through the empty room. His cock hit the back of my throat, and he had to bite his lip hard to stop himself from rocking into this heat.

"Shit, ur mouth...'s every lustful thought I had," he panted, his hips rocking slightly as he tried to restrain himself. I loved how his moans are mixed with bold words, "Suck me just like that, you naughty little minx... Fuck, I want to touch you so badly, to grab your hair and fuck your pretty face until you choke on my cock... but I'll be good, I promise, don't stop beauty.."

I enjoyed. Enjoyed as...

Mattheo was practically sobbing with need, his voice a desperate wreck as he fought to obey my rule. "Please, I've been waitin so long for you girl.." The sounds of his moans and whimpers bounced off the walls, a lewd symphony in the dim light. He was utterly at my mercy, consumed by lust and craving my touch. So good, Merlin, so good. What took me so long to fall for him? So noisy, so desperate, so pleading.

So, I sucked him off so boldly and fast, taking him all for myself. Enjoying every inch of his arousal, touching his pelvis with my nose. Damn Mattheo Riddle was finally getting what he was crazy about. And it made me even more wet between my legs. I tortured him even more, gulping him fully far down. Then licking only his swollen head. Repeated that. Repeated. Mattheo's eyes rolled back in bliss as I focused my attention on the sensitive head, swirling my tongue around it and lapping up his leaking precum. The teasing was driving him absolutely mad with lust. "yes, beauty, 'es... just for once 'm gonna be a good one.."

Then I finally whispered those two magical words - "Touch me" - and Mattheo didn't hesitate. His hands flew to my hair, gripping it roughly as he finally allowed himself to thrust widely into my eager mouth. He set a fast, almost punishing pace, his heavy balls slapping against my chin with each pump of his hips.

"Hell yeah, fucking witch.. my little hussy," Mattheo growled, his voice ragged and desperate. He pulled my head up, forcing his cock deeper as he chased his rapidly approaching orgasm.

"'m gonna fuck ur mouth 'til you can't breathe, 'til all you can taste 's my cum. Drink it all down like the greedy hussy you are." And then his hands were more rough in my hair, his hips thrusting more wide.

I was suffocating. But it was nothing because I had not eaten anything since yesterday evening, I could now take him without any particular obstacles. I plot it enjoyably. The gag reflex perfectly bypassed his cock. The small room filled with the obscene sounds of his flesh slapping against mine, mixed with his guttural moans. Wild, desperate, whining my Mattheo. A few more furious thrusts later, Mattheo let out a long, low groan that seemed to come from the depths of his being. His cock pulsed and throbbed violently before he slammed deep into my throat and came abundantly. Sticky, warm, lovely seed flowed down my throat while he trembled and cursed non-stop.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, ma beautiful chippy...fuckin long s' fuckin long 've been waitin for you" His voice, his body were shaking after orgasm, mouth spitting out unconscious links of words.

As the last spurts dribbled out, Mattheo collapsed down to the floor, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His grip on my hair loosened "Ohhhh fuck... only dreamt abou..." he stopped mid-word because I kissed him fiercely, licking and marking his lips. I was so horny, so needy for his touch but he had to win this match, so I pulled away and stood up.

His eyes watched as a thin, shiny thread of my juices hung from under my skirt to my knee. And he, still sitting on the floor, reached up and licked it off my knee with his hot tongue. The shiver of subsequent events after the match made me bite my lip.

"The winner will take all." His voice was low and confident. I knew - he would do both:

Win this match right now.

And take me then.

[okkotsuus]

mirror opposites. (michael k.) !

features: michael kaiser.

contents: kaiser backstory spoilers. mentions of child abuse. mentions of unhealthy mindsets. mentions of blood. reader is a rich girl and actress, also just a decent person. toxic-ish relationship dynamics. suggestive at times. angst. hurt no comfort. one-sided enemies to lovers. 2.2k words.

notes: i wouldn't consider this dark content, but it certainly isn't happy content. also i am NOT enabling anything that mihya's father did, god no. this is questionably written i spent like a week in multiple sessions on this hoe...

michael kaiser has never loved anyone other than himself.

this is something he knew to be true.

knew.

because the second he set his sights on you: such a pretty and sweet little thing. he was hooked.

you were everything that he was never blessed with the privilege to be.

a being that exists to uplift others, to build them up by giving. born to two loving parents who thoroughly wanted you. never having to truly work for a thing a day in your life.

yet, at the same time, so contrarian: you were everything he has ever hated about himself and his upbringing.

an actress that soars so far on the top of the charts that people believe she is a god-given talent. someone who follows so easily, a sheep ever to be drawn to her shepard. and a director in your spare time.

it stirred his very being, in a way that shook his stolen identity. a king high atop his throne feeling an earthquake rumbling below his palace.

his lips instinctively curl into a sneer as the thrum of his pulse deafens his ears. michael kaiser knew all about you, because it was simply knowing himself.

why you were here, at a bastard munchen publicity event: was something he did not know.

the little voice in the back of his head told him that it would be best to leave it a mystery. to let sleeping dogs lie.

but to listen to that voice was to degrade back to his old way, to allow the old man to crash his nearly empty bottle of jäegermeister against the back of his skull. there were always just enough droplets of that putrid filth inside to seep into his fresh cut: and sear at the tender flesh below golden blond hair.

he doesn't get the choice, though.

another thing he hates.

"excuse me, may i get through, sir?" a voice rings out from behind him. god, you sound like the sweetest honey, rich and full bodied like fine wine.

michael's head snaps in your direction, eyes sharp like a bird of prey. something burns in the back of his throat, a biting remark teetering on the tip of his tongue: just waiting to lash out and see crystalline tears roll down your pretty cheeks.

but it never comes.

his words die before they are ever born into this world.

just like his father wished of him.

an iron taste fills his senses as his teeth clamp down, skimming a few tastebuds clean off his tongue. with a clenched jaw, his teeth creaking and echoing in his head, kaiser steps to the side to allow you to pass him. "of course, my bad."

the words are a hurried mumble as his fleet footsteps direct his lithe frame towards the men's room.

everything feels hot as michael takes deep, hurried breaths. his hands prop against the sides of the sink as he hunches over the porcelain. the fabic of his button-down feels like a snake, like hands holding him down-

no.

with a cough, spit splats into the wall of the sink, a bright red marbling with the fluid.

it's flushed away with the turn of a knob.

if only he could flush this feeling away just as easily.

an all consuming paranoia, chills running up and down his spine in unity with flashes of heat. his palms feel like every single pore is being pricked with needles. his lungs ache as he takes gasping breaths.

yet, he is devastatingly silent.

when his head raises to see himself in the mirror, just for a moment: he sees a grimly little boy.

CRACK!!

now, in the shards of bloodied glass, he sees himself once more.

he needed to remind himself of his identity in the most base way he knew: pain.

michael doesn't feel the sting of his knuckles as he runs them under the water till it goes clear. he wraps toilet tissue over the wound and keeps his hand tucked into his pocket as he returns to the floor.

no one would ever know.

not until after the event.

and kaiser's trail of debris was not something that bastard munchen was unfamiliar with. on his very first day after being freed from his cell, he practically incapacitated three players in one breath.

it was an unspoken part of the team.

the price for his talent.

was blood.

as cerulean eyes survey the area, mapping every single money-grubbing exec to avoid, he is forced out of his thoughts once again. by that aggravatingly melodic voice that was beginning to etch its way into his mind. carving to make a mark.

"pardon, sorry to bother, but i completely didn't recognize you earlier: michael kaiser, right?"

his blood ran ice cold in his veins.

you knew him.

like a slap in the face, his calm was shattered to thousands of bits and pieces: like that damned mirror he had just slashed his hand on.

rashly, he reaches a hand to push his bangs from his eyes. the feeling of the strands against his forehead suddenly becoming far too stimulating. he doesn't even realize his mistake.

not until he sees those e/c eyes of yours widen like saucers.

fuck.

michael forgot that was his cut up hand.

like a deer in headlights, he stands there, arms limp by his sides.

but when your gentle hands reach for his, every muscle in his body tenses up. like a coil ready to snap.

no one touches him.

no one.

not fans, not teammates, not even ness.

in the corner of his eye, he can see his loyal guard dog's face paint in horror.

that instinctual disgust never hits him as soft skin meets with his own, so delicately as you bring his bloodied knuckles closer. that sends him further into his silent spiral.

why?

why does it have to be you?

out of the 8.2 billion people on this earth, it just had to be you.

god hated him, he was sure of this before; but now, he was certain.

"don't touch me." michael's words are poorly masked with indifference, which means nothing with the way he refuses to pull himself from your ensnaring gentleness.

you don't even acknowledge his quip, staring down at blood-stained porcelain skin with enigmatic eyes. "you're hurt... let's wash this out and get it properly wrapped."

kaiser can't find the strength in himself to fight you, not when you cradle him so gently in cupped palms: as if he were the last drop of salvation on this cursed and rotten planet.

it winds him up leant back on a random bench, while you pick some shards of glass carefully from his wounds with the tweezers of the emergency first aid kit your manager keeps. dutiful, you stay hunched over his knuckles, not even moving when drawing in slow breaths.

he'd dare to say you could have been a surgeon in another life.

ZING!!

okay, maybe he won't go that far. a searing shot of pain races up his arm as your hand shakes for just a second.

before he can pull away, you pull out a small, but jagged piece of glass. "i'm sorry, could tell that one hurt you..."

normally, michael wouldn't give an apology the time of the day. if they make the mistake once, they can and will do it again: that was his outlook.

but, seeing that forlorn look in pools of e/c, he finds his heart growing a little more forgiving.

even if just slightly.

"it's fine, didn't hurt that bad, schätzchen*. i've faced worse." the words leave a bitter taste on his tongue. even if he had not experienced it in so long, the memories of the wretched pain his drunk father would leave is something he can never shake.

"that doesn't matter, i hurt you: which means i should apologize." you speak, tone firm as you sprays an antibacterial spray on his knuckles before placing gauze and wrapping them taut. "that's common decency, michael."

he knows that.

but he was never taught that, it was something he had to learn over time. something he still hasn't fully grasped yet, even at nineteen years old.

another thing he can blame dear old dad for.

you tie off his bandage and hum, leaning down to press your lips against the fabric. "my mother says this makes anything heal faster..." it comes out in a whispered confession, as if you didn't intend for him to fully hear the words.

against his better judgement, heat begins to nip at the high points of kaiser's face.

"we'll see if that really works out, ja**?"

and just for a second, he can see that public face of yours crack just a bit when heat begins to pool in the middle of your palms, eyes averting his ocean gaze.

not quite sure why, but he found himself liking that reaction; though he had claimed to hate you. it sent a trill up his spine, bouncing up each vertebrae like a xylophone, leaving a melodic ringing in his ears.

wow.

so this is what love is like?

immediately a sense of horror begins to eat at the corners of his mind. falling in love at first sight with an actress? just like his dad did all those years ago.

he had no way to know you would stay.

and that truly scared michael kaiser.

possibly more than fearing for his life, as he did for so many years.

"it may not seem it, but i'm actually a football fan..." you murmur, tone creeping into the territory of shy as your eyes dart up to meet his once more. "originally, i had come to this event for a promotion that my manager arranged: some commercial that would be shot in a few months. i figured, while i was here, i would try to get an autograph..."

that perked kaiser's interest: you, a fan? with the millions of people who watched your movies, here you were in front of him acting like someone who just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

it was... cute.

"so, you're a fan of mine, then?" he hums, a smug look beginning to curl at the corners of his lips. his hand, the one you had so carefully bandaged, reaches to brush a stray h/c strand from your eyes.

yet, against his nature: michael's hand lingers, fingertips brushing over the supple skin of your cheek before slowly retreating. "i could give you a lot more than some autograph, schatz***..."

just like he thought, he can feel the heat that begins to radiate from your skin at his words. strangely, michael finds this sensation as fulfilling as breaking down other strikers. the sight of your pretty lips being drawn behind pearly teeth as he watches your head spin.

"oh, gosh- i don't even know what to say..." the words tumble from your lips like water from a broken dam.

kaiser grins, he had you: hook, line, and sinker.

"you don't need to say anything, just yes." his blood thrums under his skin, michael can practically feel it rushing through his veins, as it beings to pool.

god, the sight that you give him the privilege of seeing next sends a wave of heat running under his collar. those pretty e/c eyes swallowed up by dilated pupils he can practically see himself in, pink lips shiny and bitten.

"yes, please, michael."

it's like you've opened pandora's box.

.

.

.

every muscle in kaiser's body aches, raised red scratches spanning his broad back. but when cerulean eyes open, from briefly dozing off, he can't find the sight of you in his hotel suite.

the bitter taste of bile rises to the back of his mouth before he thickly swallows. in an instant, he's sat up, eyes desperately searching. his robe thrown on haphazardly.

in his fervor, he doesn't notice the envelope that he knocks off the bed, neat penmanship scrawling his name across the back.

michael's phone rings with a buzz, he picks it up with hope it's you; even though numbers weren't exchanged. no, it's jinpachi ego.

and in that moment, michael kaiser thinks he can understand his father's anger. even if just a little bit.

*Schätzchen: Sweetie (feminine petname)

**Ja: Yes (affirmative)

***Schatz: Darling (feminine petname)

okkotsuus 25

[promptedwordsmith]

Might I HUMBLY request Xavier x reader where he’s all pouty because you’ve been busy with work and ignoring him and you accidentally raise your voice at him because he keeps trying to speak to you but ur busy and he starts crying. Yup. I’d like to order that meal please I live for crybaby Xavier 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

Hi! I love this I put my spin on crying Xavier because he is my no.1 pookie and he seems to me like the type that cries whe he annoyed or feels wronged (because I do)

Xavier sat on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the back of your head as if he could will you to turn around and finally look at him. He had been patient—remarkably patient, in his opinion—but after hours of watching you hunched over your computer, completely ignoring his presence, his patience was wearing dangerously thin.

He had tried everything to get your attention. At first, he’d settled for subtle tactics: stretching exaggeratedly, sighing loudly, shifting on the couch in a way that made the leather creak just enough to be noticeable. When that failed, he moved on to more obvious methods, like standing behind you, resting his chin on your head, and wrapping his arms around your shoulders in what should have been a distraction too sweet to ignore.

But you hadn’t even flinched.

So now, he was pouting.

Xavier would never admit to pouting, of course, but that was exactly what he was doing. His lower lip was slightly pushed out, his silver brows were drawn together in a frown, and he was sinking lower and lower into the couch, his entire body exuding sulky displeasure.

How long had it been now? Two hours? Three? He was certain it had been at least half the day.

His fingers drummed against his knee. Maybe he should just grab your laptop and toss it across the room. That would get your attention. Or maybe he should act like he was in grave distress—clutch his chest, groan dramatically, collapse onto the floor. Surely that would get you to look at him.

Instead, he settled for the next best thing.

With all the grace and stealth he possessed, Xavier slid off the couch, crawling onto the floor until he was sitting directly beside your chair. His head tilted up as he stared at you, waiting for even the smallest reaction.

Nothing.

He scowled. "Are you planning to stare at that screen all night?"

"Mmhm," you hummed, not even sparing him a glance.

His frown deepened. "You do realize I’m here, right?"

Another vague noise of acknowledgment.

Xavier narrowed his eyes. He had been ignored before, sure, but this was just unfair.

And now, he had made it his mission to break your focus.

Xavier, determined as ever, let out a small sigh before lifting his hand. His Evol hummed to life, and the glow of your laptop screen flickered, dimming until it was barely visible. Then, with a subtle flick of his fingers, the display distorted, the text shifting and swirling like ink in water.

You let out a frustrated groan. "Xavier!"

He blinked up at you innocently. "Yes?"

"Please! I need to get this report done. I'm not getting behind on work because you want attention!"

In your frustration, you snapped the laptop shut with more force than intended before throwing it open again, fingers immediately resuming their frantic typing. Your words were sharp, harsher than you meant, but at that moment, all you could focus on was meeting your deadline.

You didn’t notice the way Xavier's eyes widened slightly, the way his usual playful demeanor stiffened ever so slightly. You didn’t notice how he stared at you, as if seeing something he hadn’t expected.

What you did notice was the quiet click of the door.

Not a slam, not an angry exit—just a calm, deliberate departure. The sound, barely loud enough to be distracting under normal circumstances, echoed in your mind like a deafening crack.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard.

Oh.

You exhaled, a sharp pang of guilt settling in your chest as the weight of your own words replayed in your mind. You hadn’t meant to snap. You hadn’t meant to push him away.

But you had.

Xavier was never demanding. He was persistent, sure, but never unreasonable. And now, instead of arguing or pouting, he had simply… left.

You swallowed, glancing toward the door.

Would he come back if you waited? Maybe he just needed air. Maybe you were overreacting.

But then you thought of his expression before he left—the quiet hurt hidden beneath the usual calm.

With a sigh, you pushed your chair back, standing up. Work could wait. Xavier, however, shouldn’t have to.

You hesitated outside Xavier’s apartment, the weight of the cookie container in your hands suddenly feeling heavier than it should. The trip up here had felt longer than usual, your own guilt dragging your steps.

You took a breath. Just apologise.

Slipping inside, you expected to see him sprawled out dramatically on the couch, maybe with a pillow over his face, sulking like a cat deprived of attention. Instead, what you found made your stomach twist.

Xavier was sitting on the couch, his body angled toward the window, bathed in the cold glow of the city lights. The usual warmth he carried was nowhere to be found. He was still, too still.

You stepped closer, keeping your voice light despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "Okay, okay, I get it. I was a little harsh, but you were being insufferable—"

You stopped.

Even in the dim lighting, you could see the quiet tears slipping down his cheeks. He wasn’t sobbing, wasn’t making a sound, but the sight was somehow worse. He looked like he wasn’t even aware he was crying, like his emotions had bled through before he could stop them.

Your breath caught in your throat. "Xavier…"

You surged forward instinctively, placing the cookies on the table with a soft clatter before cupping his cheeks in your hands. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, but he didn’t lean into the touch like he usually would.

Instead, he turned his face slightly, firmly ignoring you.

The rejection, soft as it was, stung.

"Xavier," you tried again, thumbs brushing over the damp trails left by his tears. "Talk to me."

Nothing.

His jaw tensed under your touch, and his hands, usually so quick to grab onto you, remained clenched in his lap. The Xavier you knew, the one who teased and pouted and wormed his way into every aspect of your life, felt so distant now.

You swallowed. "I didn’t mean to snap at you," you whispered, your voice softer now, less desperate, more honest. "I was frustrated, not with you—well, okay, maybe a little with you—but mostly with myself."

His shoulders twitched, barely a reaction, but enough for you to see you were getting through.

You took a breath, shifting so you were kneeling between his legs, forcing him to either look at you or go on stubbornly ignoring your presence.

"You can be a pain, you know?" You smiled a little, trying to coax something, anything, out of him. "But you’re my pain, and I was an idiot for pushing you away like that."

Still, silence.

Then, finally, a breath.

"You always do that." His voice was quiet, rough in a way you weren’t used to. "Always throw yourself into things and forget that someone’s waiting for you to look up."

You blinked.

Xavier exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if he was annoyed with himself. "I don’t even know why I…" He trailed off, hands finally moving—but not to hold you. Instead, he wiped at his own face as if frustrated that he had let himself cry in front of you at all.

You felt your chest ache.

There was something heavier in his words, something unspoken. A kind of familiar grief that didn’t make sense in the context of one small fight.

But that was a question for another time.

Right now, you just wanted him to know he mattered.

So you leaned in, pressing your forehead gently against his. "I’ll look up more," you promised, closing your eyes. "I’ll pay attention. I swear, Xavier."

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, his hands finally reached for you.

Not playful, not teasing—just holding on.

Like he was afraid of something.

Like he was afraid of losing you.

Xavier didn’t speak right away. He just held onto you, his hands gripping your arms, thumbs brushing over your skin as if reassuring himself that you were really there. His forehead was still pressed against yours, warm and steady, but there was a hesitance in the way he held you—like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away again.

You weren’t going to.

Slowly, he exhaled, finally shifting back just enough to look at you properly. His blue eyes were still damp, still heavy with something unsaid, but there was a quiet resolution there now. He lifted your hands from where they rested against his chest, cradling them carefully between his own.

Then, with a gentleness that made your breath catch, he brought them to his lips.

His lips brushed over your knuckles, lingering in a way that made your heart ache. "I need you to be serious about this," he murmured, voice low, but firm. "Not just saying it to make me feel better."

You swallowed, guilt tightening in your throat.

"I mean it," he continued, pressing another soft kiss to your fingers. "I want to spend time with you, and if you’re too busy, then fine—just let me help. If it’s your report, I’ll help you with it. If you’re stuck, I’ll be there." He squeezed your hands gently, his expression open, unguarded in a way you weren’t used to. "I just want to be with you. However I can."

Your heart clenched.

You’d been so focused on your work, so lost in the constant cycle of getting things done, that you hadn’t even considered how Xavier might feel about it. He didn’t just want attention—he wanted to be with you. He wanted to be a part of your world, not just something on the outside waiting for a moment of your time.

You lifted your hands, cupping his face once more, smoothing your thumbs over his cheekbones. This time, when he leaned into your touch, there was no resistance.

"I promise," you whispered.

Then, before he could say anything else, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was sweet, slow—not rushed or desperate, but full of warmth. A promise sealed with something softer than words. Xavier made a quiet sound against your lips, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled back, he exhaled, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You sure you won’t need me to break your screen again?"

You laughed, pressing your forehead to his. "No breaking my laptop. But…" You smiled. "I wouldn’t mind your help next time."

His smirk softened into something fonder, something real.

"Good," he murmured, pulling you in again. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

And this time, you believed him.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Fuck it Friday

I was tagged by @bidisasterevankinard, @agentpeggycartering, @laundryandtaxesworld and @fairytalegonewronga03 (thank you so much lovelies!! ♥) Here's a snippet of chapter 5 of Tsunami Fic!

It’s been three days since the tsunami, and Tommy is finally ready to let Vivie out of his sight for more than ten minutes; they’ve spent pretty much all of their time at home as both her and Sal recover from it all, physically and emotionally. Sal’s been staying with them, and Tommy’s insisting he stays until his medical leave is over in a week.  

But now Tommy needs to go for his first shift since everything happened, and he’s pretty sure Sal is having a harder time with it than Vivie. While his daughter is happily lying on the floor, her socked feet swinging in the air as she colors a piece of paper, his best friend is eyeing Tommy warily from where he’s sitting on the couch, as he ties his shoes. 

“Tommy”, he mutters. “Are you sure you want to do this? You… I won’t be offended if you get a babysitter or take her to someone else, you know? I… I’d understand after…”

Tommy sighs; he’s tried to blow off every single apology Sal sent his way ever since the tsunami. They’re safe, and Vivie is completely fine, and Tommy doesn’t blame Sal for any of it. But that doesn’t mean Sal is convinced, and Tommy’s starting to think he’ll need an extra hand. 

“Vivie?” He calls. 

“Yeah?” She answers, still focused on her drawing. 

“Do you want Daddy to call someone else to take care of you while I work?” Tommy asks, and that makes her raise her head in alarm. 

“Why?! Is Uncle Sal not okay?! Are you feeling bad, uncle Sal?” She rushes to them, throwing herself in Sal’s lap. He wraps his arms around her, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I’m feeling fine, darlin’, don’t you worry about me.” He tells her, ruffling her hair, and she sighs in relief. “Do… you want me to take care of you?” Sal asks, sounding impossibly insecure, and Vivie glares at him in a way that’s eerily reminiscent of Tommy’s own bitchy expression. 

“Duh, uncle Sal, you’re my favorite uncle. You play the best games and you sing Barbie songs with me!” She tells him as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Tommy, in his defense, does his best not to look smug, but he doesn’t think he actually succeeds. As he finishes tying his shoes, he gets up, raising an eyebrow at Sal, who’s glaring at him.

“Well”, Tommy quips, grabbing his car keys. “I guess that settles the matter, doesn’t it? You guys have fun signing Barbie tunes as I go to work. You behave for your uncle, pixie, okay?”

He presses a kiss to Vivie’s forehead, half expecting her to say goodbye to him and cuddle up against Sal. What she does instead is gasp and scramble out of her uncle’s lap, rushing back to her paper. As she grabs it, a healthy amount of glitter falls on the floor, and Tommy doesn’t even want to think about the clean-up. He guesses he could ask Sal to take care of it, but it doesn't seem like a fair thing to the concussed guy. 

“Wait, Daddy!” She says, and then she shoves the card into his hand. “You have to take this!”

Tommy frowns, and looks down at the card. His cheeks instantly blush when he sees the wobbly ‘To: Mr. Evan’ that’s written on the top corner, along with a much neater ‘From: Genevieve’ on the bottom (she’s only five, but she’s already a master at writing her own name, Tommy is proud to say). There’s a very glittery blue heart in the middle, and when Tommy opens the card to take a peak, he sees two sticky figures: Genevieve, holding Marsh, and a bigger one that can only be Evan, based on the blue eyes and the small pink birthmark drawn above one of them.

---

Np (real np cause it's barely Friday for me, and I think it's not Friday anymore for a lot of people hehe) tagging @unhingedangstaddict @littlepaws9 @typicalopposite and whoever else would like to join!! ♥

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Yandere Arlong and daughter reader

I'm slowly starting to get better, but I'm still not going to say that I'm officially back yet. I was, however, able to finish this.

Psychosomatic

Yandere Arlong x Daughter Reader

2.6k words

Summary: You've finally struck out on your own, and you're starting to build a life for yourself. Hopefully you leaving without telling your father won't come back to bite you.

Warnings: yandere themes (platonic), female presenting reader, unhealthy father-daughter relationship, abuse, self harm, alcohol mention, Arlong-typical racism, angst, hurt no comfort

Everyone can benefit from having a fresh start in life. At least, you know that you certainly have. These past few months have been some of the best months of your life. Sure, there were a couple of people that you missed now, but maybe you'll get lucky and run into them later.

A quiet tune flows through the air as you whistle to yourself while walking back to your home with a bag of groceries. Cold, albeit gentle, wind tugs at your scarf, making it slip down your face. Despite being alone as far as you could tell, you're quick to readjust it. The soft fabric is tightened around your neck until you're sure that it won't come loose again. 

It would be for the best that no one else sees anything they weren't supposed to. You've got a good thing going for you here, and you don't want to lose it because you got chased out for… things that are out of your control. 

The place that you've learned to call home comes into view. It's not much, barely more than a shack really, but you're happy with it. Even if it's more than a little dingy and dilapidated, it's yours. You’ve got plans to do some work on it once the weather warms up.

Just as you're about to enter, you notice something. The door is ajar. You know that you wouldn't do something as careless as leaving the door open like that. Shit. Did someone really look at your home and think to rob it? That seemed unlikely given the state of it. If they looked through the window, they would see that the most valuable thing in there was probably a fishing rod. 

So, it stands to reason, robbery likely wasn't the motive. 

Carefully, you set down the bag of groceries while continuing to whistle in an attempt to not let whoever is inside know that you're onto them. Both of your hands grasp the sheathed swords dangling from either sides of your hips.

After taking a second to prepare yourself, you kick the door open and rush in with your swords drawn, ready to fight. 

The oil lamp you rely on to light the place is off, leaving only the natural sunlight filtering in through the window to illuminate your humble abode. 

Your deduction proved correct. Someone was in here waiting for you. As your eyes struggled to adjust to the dim lighting, he was nothing more than a silhouette to you. But you didn't need to see the details to figure out who this was. You would recognize his distinct side profile anywhere. 

But what was he doing here? Your swords are slid back into their sheaths as you sigh deeply, already feeling a headache coming on. 

“Arlong. Why are you here?”

His own sigh echoed yours, though it teetered on sounding like a growl. He pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against and slowly stalked over to you. “How many times have I told you to quit calling me that? I'm your dad. That's how you're supposed to refer to me.”

Your eyes rolled and you crossed your arms over your chest, “I asked you a question. Why are you here, Arlong?” You dragged out every letter of his name with a smirk on your face.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself, “I'm here because I'm your father and you vanished without a trace. Do you really think so little of me that I wouldn't come looking for you? You didn't even tell anyone that you left, you could have been abducted for all I knew. 

“I didn't just up and leave without telling anyone. I told Hachi.” Arlong’s eye twitches at this revelation, but he doesn’t necessarily look surprised either. You also told Nami about your departure, but you weren't about to put her in Arlong's line of fire by saying that. “Also, if I'm being completely honest: No, I didn't think you would come looking for me. Frankly, I thought you would just be relieved that I was finally gone.”

Even as a child, you could tell that you were seen as… undesirable. And that was putting it mildly. 

A quick glance up at Arlong's face revealed that he hadn't been expecting such a blunt answer. His eyes are wide, and his mouth opens and closes as his mind scrambles to formulate a response but keeps falling flat. When he finally does find the words, he sounds more offended than anything, “How can you say that? I know that we may not have the,” his eyes drift to the side, “closest relationship, but I'm still your father whether you like it or not.”

A sarcastic bark of laughter rips out of your throat, “Not the “closest”? Our relationship is nonexistent. You may be my father objectively speaking, but that's it. You've never been my dad.”

In an instant, one of his hands juts out and grabs your jacket. He yanks you closer to him, so close that if you were a little taller you would have been lobotomized by that nose of his. 

“You listen to me, you ungrateful little brat. You could do a hell of a lot worse for yourself than to have me for a father. I've fed you, clothed you, kept a roof over your head, and made sure you were safe, and this is the thanks I get? I could have abandoned you like my father did to me, but no, I stuck around despite everything!” His raised voice is booming in your ears, and it surprises you a little. You haven’t gotten such a strong reaction out of him since he first took over Cocoyashi Village.

Just as suddenly as he had grabbed you, he threw you away from him. You stumble and crash into the wall, making the old wood groan in protest.

Arlong turns away from you and punches a hole clear through the opposing wall of your home. The force of it damn near makes the entire wall topple down, and for a moment you're worried that the whole structure will collapse, but it doesn't.

His furious eyes dart back to where you're standing, “I didn't have to raise you, but I did, and I think I deserve some damn respect for that! Maybe I would have left you if I knew that this was how you were going to turn out!”

This man… this bastard- this delusional mother fucker really doesn't see any of the problems here, does he? He really thinks that he hasn't done anything wrong. He thinks that HE raised you as if Hachi isn't the sole reason that any of your needs ever got met growing up. As if Hachi isn't the closest thing you have to a real father. 

Fuck this. You meet his glare with one of your own, one filled with complete and utter contempt and loathing. If he wants to go this route, then two can play this game. 

“I wish that uncle Jimbei never gave me back after you were let out of prison.”

That definitely got his attention. You could see a storm of emotions roiling within his eyes. His voice was low and just barely containing the violent impulses within him, “Don't you even start with that shit again.”

Maybe it's time to rip the bandaid off. If this isn't the time to clear the air, then that time will never come. 

You step forward and meet the cold look in his eyes with your own, not willing to back down no matter how hard he tries to intimidate you into doing so. “Why not? Me keeping my mouth shut won't make it any less true. You and me both know that I didn't want to go with you back then, and you sure as shit haven’t done anything to sway my opinion.”

“You little-”

“I mean, really, who are you kidding? There's no way that you seriously think that I prefer your company over Jimbei’s. He actually loves me, unlike you.”

Arlong’s eyes go wide at that, but he's quick to recover, “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“What? You can't really be surprised that I noticed. Come on… when was the last time you had a conversation with me? Actually, scratch that, when was the first time? When have you ever tried to genuinely get to know or spend time with me? Can you even tell me what my favorite color is? What my hobbies are? Oh wait, you can't because you can't even hardly look me in the fucking eyes without choking on your own disgust toward me! Toward what I am!” You had wanted to maintain a cool and unbothered façade during this confrontation, one that you had fantasized about for years, but as the words flowed out, so did the bottled up emotions. 

“I get it, okay? You don't need to tell me that I am not what you wanted. I don't know if you ever even wanted a kid in the first place, but I know damn well that you never wanted one that looked like me.” Your hand comes up and rips off the scarf you were wearing, revealing the fishman trait that you had inherited from your father. The gills on your neck flared uncomfortably from the friction of the scarf. You jab a finger at your gills, “Hell, I bet that if it weren't for these you would have gotten rid of me just like you did with my mom!”

He snapped out of the fog he had been in moments ago and bristled at the mention of your mother, “I didn't do a damn thing to her! She left! And I never… I… never…”

Arlong's words stall, then completely stop as he stares at you. His brows are knitted together. His abrupt change in demeanor completely baffles you, threatening to smother the fires of your rage from pure confusion. What happened? What is he so focused on?

When he speaks again, his voice is hushed; like he's talking to himself more than you, “How… How are you wearing those gloves? Your fingers are webbed… I know that they're webbed.”

Oh, shit. You got so caught up in the heat of the moment that you hadn’t even thought to hide that. 

There's a vain attempt to stuff your hands into your pockets, but Arlong was faster. One of his hands locks around your wrist, and the other rips the leather glove off it. As soon as his eyes lock on what was hidden underneath, he drops your hand and recoils away from you.

Your hand falls to your side and balls into a fist, helping to hide the angry, red scar tissue between all of your fingers. 

“What…” Arlong's eyes narrowed as horror gave way to anger once again, “What happened? Who did this to you?!”

Well… the cat's out of the bag now, isn't it? You heave a sigh as you slide the glove off your other hand. Fingers splay out as your hands raise up to eye level so you can admire your handiwork.

“You're looking at her… I think I did a pretty good job on this, all things considered.” Given how much you drank before doing this in order to work up the nerve to go through with it, it's honestly miraculous that the cuts came out so clean. The cold from the ice had made your hands shake terribly, you can't believe you were even able to hold the scissors properly, much less put them to use. 

“You? You did this?” It sounds like Arlong is trying not to choke on every word. Like his mouth can't bear to form any of it. His eyes finally break away from your hands and they flit everywhere- anywhere that isn't you. “How could you do that to yourself? Do you really hate being a fishman that much?”

“I don’t hate that I’m a fishman. I’m not one. I’m only half, if that. That’s what I hate. I’m not fishman enough to have ever earned your love or approval, but I’m not human enough to seamlessly fit in with them either. I’m just some in between of the two. A freak that couldn’t go one way or the other and kept to an inconvenient middle.”

“As for this…” You flex your fingers as you stare coldly at the scarred flesh between them, “I mostly did this to keep the rest of the people who wouldn’t be able to handle what I am from figuring it out. It's easy enough to hide my gills, but the webbing was harder. Sure, I could have gotten away with wearing mittens for now, but that'll start to get suspicious after it warms up, you know?” Hopefully the scars will be faded enough by then to not draw too much attention to themselves.

Despite your calm demeanor, Arlong was still visibly disturbed by what he saw. “Stop being so casual about this! You mutilated yourself!”

While accurate, the description still made you cringe. You didn't like how it made this sound. “Don't say it like that. I just… had a little work done, you know? This is no different from any other cosmetic surgery.” Your lack of training and professionality aside, of course. 

“That is not the same thing! Are you insane? Have you actually lost your mind?” Arlong pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, “Forget it. We’ll discuss this later.”

“Later? You better not be planning to stay here.”

Arlong’s eyes rolled and he quickly closed the distance between you and grabbed your arm, “I’m not. We’re going home. Come on.” Without even waiting for a response, he starts dragging you through the broken remains of the wall he punched out.

His bold declaration shocked you. In an instant, you drop like a sack of bricks, making Arlong almost lose his balance. You kick at him, trying to take out his legs, “No way in hell am I going back! I’m an adult now, if I want to go out on my own, then I can!”

A snarl ripped out of Arlong’s throat at your protest. He yanks on your arms, flinging you up and over his shoulder with ease. He steps out of the ruined shack while pointedly ignoring your punching and kicking, “You don’t get to decide that! Not when your first instinct once you’re on your own is to mutilate your body! You’re coming home where I can keep an eye on you before you can do anything worse!”

“I’m not going back!” In a desperate attempt to get away, you grab the hilt of one of your swords.

The distinct sound of a sword being unsheathed alerts Arlong to your actions. He grabs the back of your shirt and throws you to the ground. You hit it hard and gasp as all of the air is forced out of you. Your lungs and gills try to work at the same time in a confused but desperate attempt to get oxygen back into your body one way or another. 

While you’re struggling to breathe, Arlong rips off the belt your swords were secured to and flings it away from you. You cough and hack as you roll onto your side and try to crawl away, but he’s able to pick you right back up just like he had before. 

“Put me down… you piece of shit… stop pretending like you care,” your chest aches with every labored breath it takes.

Arlong doesn’t respond or bother to refute your claim. He just marches onward to the nearby shore, seemingly intent on no longer engaging with you as he drags you back to Arlong Park kicking and screaming. It appears that you have no choice in this matter anymore.

At least you’ll be able to see Hachi and Nami again…

[starlvcied]

₊˚⊹♡ rin itoshi x f!reader " FRAMED RIVALRY " CHAPTER 001

in which your academic rival, aka the captain of the soccer team, sneaks his way into the photography club with you. ꨄ︎ CHAPTER 001

cw: swearing (a lot) , rin definitely needs therapy wc : 3k

the sun shines down on the soccer field, casting shadows across the grass. you adjust the lens on your camera, the clicking of the shutter becoming a steady rhythm in the background as you move, trying your best to capture the intensity of the game. your fingers are quick and precise as you focus on each shot, freezing the action in time. the soccer players, all in their matching uniforms, run with a kind of urgency, their feet pounding the ground with every stride.

you’ve been a part of the photography club for two years now but no matter how often you’re on the sidelines of these games, there’s always something inspiring about watching the players. you find yourself naturally drawn to the skill, the precision of it all—except for one player.

rin itoshi, the captain of the soccer team, moves differently. the aura he gives off on the field is magnetic, but in a way that makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous. he’s tall, lean, his movements calculated. his sharp, teal eyes never seem to leave the ball, and his hair falls just enough to obscure part of his vision—but somehow, it only enhances his intensity. 

you didn't like him. it seemed as if nobody actually liked rin itoshi. people just pretended to like him because he’s “cool”. he’s a rude, egotistical snob who thought he was better than everyone. you didn't pay him any mind in the halls, or when he would roll his eyes when you got a question right, though. there are a lot of rude people in the world, and your motto was “just smile and nod.”

you snap a picture of him, the ball seemingly suspended in midair as he prepares to strike. just as you click the shutter, a player from the opposing team rushes past you, and you stumble, your foot catching on the uneven turf. ouch.

the next thing you know, you’re colliding into someone—a solid body, a slight grunt, and then the unmistakable feeling of being pinned against the grass. your camera, thank goodness, is still in your hands, though you can feel the strap digging into your wrist from the awkward angle.

“sorry! i didn’t mean—”

but the person you’ve collided with doesn’t respond. you glance up quickly, your heart sinking as you realize who it is: rin itoshi. his teal eyes don’t even flicker toward you. instead, he simply pushes past you with a scoff, his sharp features barely shifting as he continues his stride across the field, his focus entirely on the game.

you’re left standing there like an idiot, with nothing but the faint echo of your own voice hanging in the air. you’ve been so used to getting nods, polite acknowledgments even from strangers, yet, for rin, you might as well not have existed at all. and that pissed you off.

you try to shake off the embarrassment, but it sticks with you like a bitter taste in your mouth. maybe it’s because you’ve never been completely ignored before. maybe it’s because you’ve heard the rumors about him—how he’s cold, distant, and borderline unapproachable. and now you understood how those statements came to be. still, it doesn’t help that he’s the kind of person who has no time for anyone unless they’re on his level—or so it seems.

the next morning, you arrive at school, the early bell ringing through the hallways. you’ve almost forgotten about the incident, tucked it away in the back of your mind where it doesn’t sting quite so much. but then the announcements come, calling for all students to gather in the classroom for a project assignment.

you’re a second year now, and the pressure of being in the student government and managing your club is always there, a subtle weight on your shoulders. so when the teacher announces the project topic, your focus sharpens.

debate. the topic? “do leaders need to be emotionally detached to succeed?” it’s a complex one, but it’s right up your alley. you’ve always been interested in leadership, in the psychology behind decision-making. but then the next part hits you: “for this project, you’ll each be paired with someone and will have a debate against another group.”

you glance around the room, already sizing up your potential partners. it’s all in good fun—until the teacher reads the names. and then your heart sinks.

“y/n, you’ll be paired with rin itoshi.”

you swallow thickly, the name ringing in your ears like an unwanted echo. rin itoshi? the same rin who so rudely ignored you yesterday?

your mind starts to race. the two of you could not be more different in your approach to leadership. you’ve always believed in understanding others, being empathetic and connected. rin, on the other hand, leads through sheer control, his focus on the end result rather than the people involved. emotionally detached? he practically embodies it. but could you find common ground on this topic?

the tension between you isn’t just academic—it’s personal. you’ve heard rumors about his cold nature, his obsession with soccer, and his overwhelming pride. he doesn’t care about anyone unless they can help him with his goals. and now, here you are, forced into a partnership with him for the most important debate of the semester.

the teacher hands out the project guidelines, and you find yourself sitting next to rin. his presence next to you feels almost suffocating. he doesn’t look at you as you sit down, his expression unreadable. his posture is straight, his focus already on the project—though whether that focus is on you or the assignment is unclear. 

this is going to be a long few weeks.

the days that follow the project announcement feel strangely heavier, as though the universe has decided to test your patience. you and rin Itoshi are thrust into a partnership that feels more like a battlefield than a collaboration.

the first meeting, if it could even be called that, happens during lunch. you find him sitting at one of the tables in the library, already with a notebook open, pen poised in hand. he doesn’t look up when you approach, not even when you slide into the chair across from him.

as the nice person you were, you went out of your way to stop at the nearest cafe outside of the place you had agreed to meet up. you ordered two iced americanos and buttered croissants. it wasnt pleasant working on an empty stomach. you got comfortable in your seat before speaking.

“i brought you some co-”

“i don't drink that.” he interrupted with the roll of his eyes, pushing the coffee away from him and back in your direction. your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. okay, maybe you shouldn't have assumed that he liked americanos, or coffee in general, but he could have definitely been more polite about it.

“okay, im so-”

“let’s get this over with.” he interrupted once more, reaching over to grab a ballpoint pen from his bag. you sighed, your eye twitching as you tried not to go off on this guy. it wasn’t worth it.

“so, how do you want to tackle this? should we split the research, or—”

he interrupts you with a single, clipped sentence, barely a glance in your direction. “i’ll take care of the facts. you handle the emotional arguments.” could he stop cutting you off?

your brow furrows at the dismissal. first he continuously cuts you off, and he isn’t asking for your input, isn’t interested in collaborating in any meaningful way. you can already tell that this will be one of those “i do everything, and you just follow along” situations. but you’ve dealt with arrogant people before. and you’re not the type to back down easily.

“i’m not just here to fill in the emotional side,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “we’re supposed to argue the same side, remember? that means we both need to agree on a stance. i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and i have very different ideas about what leadership even is.”

rin’s eyes flicker up at last, his teal gaze meeting yours for the first time in days. there’s a sharpness there, a challenge, but it’s not enough to throw you off balance. not yet.

“you’re overcomplicating this,” rin says flatly, his voice cold as ever. “leadership doesn’t need feelings. It needs results. leaders who rely on emotions are weak.” his words cut through the air, the arrogance thick in them. “so shut the hell up. i’ll prove that whats right in the debate. you just need to back me up.”

there it is—the familiar arrogance that laces every word he speaks. you resist the urge to roll your eyes. he’s treating this as if it’s a one-man show, like your opinion doesn’t matter at all.

“i think you’re missing the point,” you reply, trying to keep your composure. “you can’t discount emotions entirely. understanding them is what makes a good leader. you’ll never connect with the people you lead if you don’t even try to understand them.”

rin narrows his eyes at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s like he’s testing you, trying to provoke some kind of reaction. “are you trying to tell me that a leader should let their emotions cloud their judgment?”

“are you a fucking idiot? no, i’m saying a leader should be aware of their emotions and how they affect others. you can’t just bulldoze over everyone and expect them to follow you.”

there’s a beat of silence, and for a moment, you think he might actually engage with you—maybe even acknowledge your point. but instead, he leans back in his chair, the smirk still lingering on his face.

“fine,” he says, almost bored. “prove it, then. if you think emotions matter so much, show me how they’ll get the results we need.” his voice is a little quieter now, but the challenge is unmistakable. “but don’t waste my fucking time.”

the air between you two is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding passing between you. this won’t be easy. and it certainly won’t be fun. but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to back down. something about the way he challenges you—pushes you to be better, even in this strange, antagonistic way—lights a fire inside of you.

“fine,” you say, your voice steady. “i’ll prove it. but don’t think for a second that i’ll just let you steamroll me into agreeing with you.”

rin shrugs, as though he couldn’t care less about your resolve. “we’ll see.”

you both return to your work, each of you diving into your research. but the tension between you doesn’t fade. it simmers, thick and heavy, like something waiting to boil over.

the next few days blur together, the steady rhythm of research and debate preparation keeping you both busy. despite the friction between you, you can’t deny that there’s something undeniably effective about working with rin. his sharp focus on results, his ability to cut through distractions—it’s almost admirable. but it’s also maddening, because you know he’s only interested in his own perspective. and you’re stuck trying to make him see yours.

you’ve made some progress in gathering emotional case studies, examples of leaders who were able to harness their emotions to drive their teams to success. it’s compelling material, but every time you bring it up, rin shoots it down. “that’s all sentimental crap,” he’d say. “it doesn’t matter if they felt something. what matters is what they achieved.”

it’s frustrating. but you can’t give up. 

finally, the day of the debate arrives. you walk into the classroom, the desks now arranged to represent a court room, nerves buzzing in your stomach. you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, but the thought of standing side by side with rin—who is so self-assured, so completely confident in his ability to win—makes the pit in your stomach tighten.

when rin walks in, he’s his usual self—cold, distant, but somehow commanding. his eyes sweep the room briefly, and then he makes his way to his desk, taking his seat without a word. you don’t even exchange pleasantries.

the debate begins, and the first few minutes pass in a blur of facts and figures. rin speaks with the kind of authority that only someone like him could wield. but you’ve prepared just as well. you know your material, and you’re determined to make your points count.

as the debate progresses, the audience grows increasingly engaged. your argument is strong, but rin’s is relentless. his words are sharp, calculated. it’s clear that he’s trying to wear you down, to undermine your confidence as if you’re the one he's debating against. and the tension between you grows thicker with every word spoken.

the days slip by, and you and rin seem to be locked in a battle of wits, neither of you willing to give an inch. despite the constant friction, a strange kind of understanding is starting to form between you. it’s not friendship—not by any stretch—but there’s an undeniable force that pulls you together, even if it’s mostly out of mutual stubbornness.

and then, without warning, something happens that catches you completely off guard.

it’s a wednesday afternoon when you first notice him.

you’re at the photography club meeting, organizing the week’s shoot plans and sorting through the photos from the last session. the room is small and cozy, filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clicking of camera shutters. it’s your safe haven—your space to let your creativity flow without anyone judging you. as well as the place where you and your two best friends crack up a storm almost 24/7. at least it used to be.

you glance up from your camera, surprised to see rin itoshi standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze sharp as always. he surveys the room, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips, before his eyes finally settle on you. his usual smirk is nowhere to be found, but there’s something just as dangerous in the way he looks at you.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, your tone a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “this is the photography club, not whatever you're thinking it is."

rin doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he steps into the room, a hand on your shoulder as he moved you to the side with the same quiet confidence he always carries. “i’m here to join,” he says simply, his arm dropping to his side, his voice flat but laced with something you can’t quite place.

your brow furrows in disbelief. “join? why would you want to join the photography club?”

he shrugs nonchalantly, though his eyes never leave yours. “maybe i just like photography.”

“‘maybe i just like photography’ my ass,” you thought. you stare at him, trying to gauge whether he’s serious. the arrogance that typically surrounds rin’s every move is still there, but this time, it’s tempered with something else—a kind of unreadable intent. you want to scoff, to call him out on the fact that you both know he’s only here to stir up trouble, but something about his response keeps you from doing so.

“right,” you mutter, clearly unconvinced. “well, this isn’t a competition. if you’re here to just… mess around, fuck off.”

rin doesn’t even blink at your words. instead, he steps further into the room as if he owns the place and grabs the nearest camera, inspecting it with the kind of precision that makes it clear he knows what he’s doing. there’s no hesitation in his movements, as if he’s done this a hundred times before. his gaze flicks over the camera, his fingers adjusting the lens as if it’s second nature.

the other club members watch with a mix of curiosity and confusion. rin Itoshi, captain of the soccer team and the most notorious loner in school, is standing in your domain, looking every bit the part of someone who belongs. 

“i’ll take a few shots,” rin announces, his voice almost bored. “see what i can do with this.”

you stand there, speechless, watching as he lifts the camera and starts taking pictures of the club members. each shot is precise, deliberate. there’s no denying it—he’s good, great, even. he doesn’t just like photography; he’s skilled, his confidence in handling the camera evident.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that this is a game to him. that he’s here to prove something, even if he’s not admitting it. you feel your irritation flare up again, and you can’t help but retort, “you’re not just here because you like photography. you just want to outdo everyone, like you always do.” ‘you stuck up piece of shit,’ you wanted to add, but you didn't.

rin glances over at you, that same unreadable expression on his face. he’s still holding the camera, his eyes flickering with something almost imperceptible. “no need to make everything a competition,” he replies coolly, his voice lacking the usual bite, but the edge is still there. those words sounded funny coming from his mouth. “i told you, i just like photography. where’s the.. leader? or whatever.”

“you’re looking right at her.” you said, placing your hand on your hip. he gave you a scoff and an unconvinced look.

“got a problem?”

“i do not.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but you don’t press further. he’s not giving you anything to work with, and you know he’s not going to back down or admit anything.

“fine,” you say, the frustration bubbling in your chest. “but if you want to join, you better pull your weight. this club isn’t just for show, soccer boy.”

rin simply shrugs. “we’ll see, camera girl.” he says, turning his attention back to the camera. and just like that, it’s as if nothing has changed—except now, rin itoshi, the most competitive person you know, is in your club. and he’s not here for the reasons he claims.

don't feel like proofreading this whoops

tags : @mixolya

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

“Something cute” won the poll for what I should do for my 100 followers special, so I tried to come up with something pretty dang cute~

Various jjba characters x reader in: Artsy Date

Drawing each other sounded like a great date idea at the time.

Content: nothing really beyond a bit suggestive

Characters: Joseph Joestar (Part 2), Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli, DIO, Rohan Kishibe, Jotaro Kujo (part 4), Yoshikage Kira, Guido Mista, Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, Diavolo, Jolyne Cujoh, Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, Diego Brando

Joseph Joestar: Oh he was QUITE confident in his ability to capture your essence on paper. And no matter how you insisted this was only for fun, not a competition, he was determined to be better at this than you. And he even tries to sabotage you, just a bit, by doing a hard pose to draw when it’s your turn to sketch him.

He IS fun to model for though, flirting with you while he directed you on how to pose for him. For a moment you almost feel like an actual professional model with the way he plays it up. He even makes a camera click noise with his mouth when he’s finally happy with your pose.

He works pretty quickly, talking out loud to himself as he goes, occasionally holding up his handiwork so he can compare it to you.

“Tell me how much you love it.”

He says it SO confidently given how…unimpressive his art skills are…

I mean…you can definitely tell it’s you. Because the character he drew has your outfit. But it’s a bit exaggerated proportion wise and he REALLY cannot draw faces to save his life wow-

“Is that my…nose?”

He’s a bit offended. “NO, that’s your mouth. This is your nose.”

You squint when he points to a spot on the drawing but you don’t really know what he’s pointing to.

But you’ll treasure it forever, you had so much fun being his model and doodling each other. And he quite enjoyed modeling for you, too, very happy to have a sketch of himself drawn by you. You drew him winking with a smug smirk on his face while in that stupidly complicated pose he decided to do despite your protests.

It’s unmistakably Joseph Joestar.

Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli: He loves this idea, but takes it SUPER seriously. He has you very carefully posed, and really takes his time illustrating you to the best of his ability. He even uses watercolors to add to your “inherent elegance” as he calls it.

When you finally get to see it…

It’s a bit amateurish, but still quite impressive, though he totally exaggerated your grace and poise. Your clothes flow in the wind as you pose delicately by a fountain…he definitely took some artistic liberties because there wasn’t any wind when you posed for him, and your outfit wasn’t THAT pristine, but it’s a lovely portrait, and you can’t help but smile learning Caesar really sees you as such a graceful and lovely person.

You feel yours isn’t nearly as grand in comparison, as you drew him much more casually, resting with his chin on his hand, looking quiet and contemplative. He adores every gift you give him, but something this personal is especially wonderful to him.

But you’re a bit embarrassed to see he went through the trouble of framing your drawing of him…sheesh Caesar…he’s so extra sometimes…

DIO: He could maybe make some free time for you in his evenings to indulge in the fine arts. You’re not sure if you’re surprised or unsurprised he actually takes a bit of interest in such things. You want to draw him? He’s happy to indulge you.

You’re off to a strong start because you have to hastily tell him he doesn’t have to take off all his clothes, you’re not making THAT kind of drawing-this was supposed to be cute!! Just pose nicely!

He can’t help himself and goes with something pretty provocative, but whatever. At least your drawing is gonna reflect his personality well.

He’s not opposed to drawing you in turn but he’s bossy just for the sake of it. He wants you to pose a certain way and if you move at all he swore he was going to stop immediately. And he was a man of empty promises, but not empty threats, so you held as still as you could manage, a bit embarrassed at the pose he demanded of you. He chides you a bit for acting surprised that his sketch of you actually looks really good.

You, posed with your arm on your own shoulder, and your head tilted so your neck is very exposed and you are surrounded by darkness. It’s a beautiful sketch, done quickly, and he has signed his name in big letters right on the drawing of you. Such a Dio thing to do. You understand even clearer how he feels about you.

He thinks you should consider it a generous gift that he deigned to waste his time illustrating you, so you’d better treasure that half-hearted sketch he’s made for you.

He has no interest in taking great care of your sketch of him though. It will be tucked away in a book somewhere and promptly forgotten about, but if you were to suggest another drawing session while he was in a pleasant mood he might not refuse.

Rohan Kishibe: Only AFTER suggesting it did you realize perhaps it was not such a good idea.

Rohan was a Very Fast artist. As soon as you suggested it he had an amazing illustration of you done in five seconds flat. You tried to explain it completely defeated the point to go so fast, and that you were supposed to pose for him at least while he drew you!

Well…he doesn’t really see the point in that. But it’s not like he’s swamped with work so…he will try to indulge you if it would make you happy.

You ask him what pose you should do and he says you can do whatever you want because he could replicate it accurately.

Once again defeating the point but whatever.

You try to do a cute pose in the hopes you can convey your romantic intent with this activity. All he does is quirk an eyebrow at you and mutter that your pose looks a bit uncomfortable to hold, but that he’ll be quick so it’ll be fine.

You sigh. He was so unromantic. You were posing SO cutely and he STILL wasn’t getting it.

His illustration of you is professional, even inked and colored with markers, and it only took him a few seconds. You’re posed draped across the couch, with your arms spread and your legs bent to give the appearance of stretching charmingly.

He narrows his eyes in confusion when you proclaim it is his turn now. Apparently he wasn’t listening very closely to how this was supposed to work.

He doesn’t want to pose so you can draw him! That’s boring. He could be doing something else. This really isn’t supposed to be an argument, so you suggest he reads a book or something so he’s not entirely “wasting his time” while you draw him.

He’s grumpy about it, but relents. As long as you promise to be quick.

He just quietly reads in his chair while you doodle him. It’s awkward and not nearly as romantic as you were hoping for, but you’re pretty happy with how your sketch of him turned out.

He doesn’t have much to say on your drawing, quick to excuse himself so he can finally go back to doing whatever he was doing before you interrupted him with this date idea of yours.

But he loves it very much, and keeps it safe in his studio, but he’ll be a bit of a brat about it if you ask because he’s embarrassed to admit it makes him feel good.

Jotaro Kujo: He’s decent at drawing, but only animals, not so much people. But if you’re both not busy one evening then fine, might as well.

He tells you to keep your expectations low, but you’re just glad to finally be spending some quality time with him. He’s not the easiest man to schedule time with, always busy with something.

His drawing of you is simplistic but recognizable, since he knew he’d struggle with detail and it’d just end up bad if he tried.

You love it! It’s rare for him to do anything like this for you, so the drawing is very dear for you, regardless of how he insists it’s not anything to be so excited about. He doesn’t really say anything, but he’s glad it makes you happy, even though he doesn’t feel like he did much.

You accidentally draw his hat too big when it’s your turn to draw him, but otherwise you think it looks pretty cool. You tried to capture the coolness of his white jacket blowing in the wind. You can’t really tell if he likes it, but he ends up folding your sketch nicely and keeping it safe somewhere, so you like to think he enjoyed this little bonding activity.

Yoshikage Kira: UGH, you’re not sure what you were expecting. The drawing he makes of you is…interesting. You’re recognizable, slightly above stick figure status…but he put a Very noticeable emphasis on your hands, putting much more effort into them than anything else in the drawing. The more you look at it the more you realize it’s just a really low-quality imitation of the Mona Lisa. Now you understand the purpose of the pose he suggested. But he seemed to moderately enjoy himself, so…Success, you suppose.

He’ll cooperate and pose for you as long as it doesn’t take too long.

You go for something casual, his pointer finger against his cheek, his other fingers against his chin. Relaxed, but stylish.

He thanks you for the drawing and tucks it away somewhere. It’s safe, but out of mind.

He doesn’t really care if you keep ahold of his drawing of you though. You’re free to do whatever you want with it, he’s not an artist so he understands if you don’t want to keep it, it didn’t take that much effort to draw anyways.

You keep it for a bit but eventually lose track of it. It’s pretty funny when you accidentally stumble across it after it disappeared for a long time. Oh yeah. That weird drawing Yoshikage did of you where he only tried when he was sketching your hands. You had forgotten about that. For good reason.

Guido Mista: He’s definitely not an artist but if you don’t care about how it turns out and just wanna spend time with him through this activity then he’s totally down.

The bullets end up wanting to draw you too so…you end up with a lot of poorly drawn portraits of yourself. Honestly you couldn’t pick out Mista’s drawing from the bullets’. How do they all draw the same way…

All the drawings of you are pretty much just stick figures with very large heads. He said he wanted to capture your facial features accurately so he had to make your head bigger. More room for the eyes. Yeah he’s definitely not taking this too seriously but you expected as much from him. So to counter him, you draw him poorly as well, and then all of the bullets large and in as much detail as you can manage.

He pretends to be offended by it. “Why’d you draw my eyes so big?!” he asks. Because beyond his sense of fashion his deep dark eyes are his most notable feature! Duh.

He ends up losing the drawing on accident within a week but! The important part was how fun it was! The finished products weren’t that important-

Please don’t be mad at him-

Bruno Bucciarati: He thinks it’s a lovely way to spend some time together, so he does what he can to clear his afternoon so he can spend it with you. He starts by saying he’s not an artist so don’t expect too much from him, but his brow furrows in concentration once you’ve assumed a pose you thought he’d like. You go for something cute but

stylish, sitting with one leg up and your other outstretched along the couch elegantly.

His drawing of you is cute. Soft lines and very simple, mostly just capturing your pose than any other details, with dots for eyes because he claims he cannot draw eyes for the life of him. It’s sweet, surprisingly adorable for the serious capo. He tells you not to show his gang though, or he’ll never hear the end of it.

You embarrass yourself a bit when it’s your turn, because you spent a very long time concentrated on his chest trying to get his tattoo accurate. And he’s not helping with his flirty little remark where he suggests you could probably see a little better if you sat closer to him. And then pat his own lap.

It totally breaks your concentration, so you decide your drawing of him is now finished, handing it over to him before he can fluster you any further.

He thinks it’s lovely, and he promises to take care of it, and make even more of an effort to carve out some free time to spend with you, even if it’s just half an hour or so.

He’s already planning a date he can surprise you with next time.

Leone Abbacchio: He’s not one for sweet romantic gestures, so he pushes back a bit, but if you nag him he’ll give in pretty quickly. It’s not like you’re asking him to do something he really hates doing, and he has a particular weakness for you…so fine. But just this once.

He’ll hold still so you can sketch him, but only for ten minutes, and he gets to choose the pose.

At least the pose he chooses looks nice. Despite his jaded personality, he’s a pretty and elegant looking man. You draw a side profile of him, his expression that usual impassive frown, but his features have a sort of rugged grace.

When you slide your masterpiece over to him, he exhales through his nose so he can maintain that grouchy persona, but he’s gentle when he actually takes the drawing from you.

When it’s his turn to draw you, he works quickly and silently, not even looking at you, which leads you to think he’s still unhappy about being asked to do this.

He won’t admit it but he didn’t look at you because he didn’t have to. He’s replayed memories of you through Moody Blues enough times to have your face memorized.

You weren’t expecting much when he casually slid the piece of paper over to you.

But when you look, you can’t help the way your jaw drops. A side profile of you that mirrors the one you drew of him. Drawn amazingly well. It’s accurate, elegant, surprisingly soft…he’s even sketched a few flowers alongside you to make the piece more aesthetically pleasing.

The way you stare makes him embarrassed, and he ends up biting out that if you didn’t like it you should just throw it away.

You respond by clutching it protectively against your chest. It just makes him more embarrassed to know you’re going to be clinging to that thing for a while. There’s really no winning with him-

WHATEVER.

You can do whatever you want with it, but do NOT show that off to Mista, Narancia and ESPECIALLY NOT Giorno (not that Giorno would tease him, but the mortifying idea of that blond knowing ANYTHING about him makes Leone feel ill).

Once enough time has passed, you can start convincing him to make a few quick sketches for you, since they make you happy for whatever reason, and unfortunately for him he loves making you happy even if that means dropping the apathetic gangster disposition for a moment.

Ghiaccio: You thought that you had finally found something that was relaxing for both of you and wouldn’t completely frustrate him and result in him losing his temper. Again.

Turns out you were incorrect. Again.

Firstly he’s not a fan of sitting still. He’ll sit in one spot for you, but he’s tapping his foot the whole time and fiddling with his phone. So you try to go as fast as you can before he gets too impatient with just sitting there waiting for his turn to draw you.

It turns out a little bit rushed, but you feel like you captured his look pretty well, even adding some red to his glasses and shoes for a splash of color.

But when it’s his turn to draw you…he starts getting frustrated fast. He keeps erasing and starting over, the poor paper getting smudged and wrinkled into oblivion, and eventually he gets mad enough to stop when he accidentally rips through the paper with his pencil.

He shouts a slew of Italian curse words before saying he’s done with this stupid date, slamming the sketchbook onto the table in front of you and storming off in a huff of embarrassment at how poorly the drawing turned out.

Well that went great.

His drawing is honestly pretty cute, the condition of the paper and the eraser smudges and rips tell quite a story…

Because of how crumpled the paper turned out it kinda looks like the hastily drawn version of you got hit by a frying pan or electrocuted by a lightning bolt, but you still like it. It was nice of him to at least entertain your idea, even though it ended up frustrating him.

Diavolo: Draw him? NO.

Not a CHANCE in HELL.

Remove that idea from your mind immediately and never bring it up again. He will not allow even one vague sketch of him to be made, and if you do it anyways he will not forgive you.

Really you should’ve expected that reaction. What were you thinking with that one…?

But if you irritate him enough about it, he’ll Eventually get fed up and tell you to sit down and hold still. If all he has to do to get you to stop whining was sketch you, then FINE. He’ll sketch you.

Stop squirming in your seat and squealing with excitement…you’re giving him a headache.

You try to hold still for him.

He radiates irritation at having to do this, his gaze intense and the strokes of his pencil harsh and deliberate.

“There.”

He tosses the sketchbook over to you and promptly gets up and leaves before he has to hear your feedback.

It’s pretty good actually. A little rough since he drew it while in a particularly foul mood, but if he actually tried he could really make something nice.

If you tell him you love what he drew for you he’ll dismiss your compliment immediately. He doesn’t care about his art skills, he has much bigger things to concern himself with than sitting around sketching his partner whenever they begged him for that kind of attention.

Jolyne Cujoh: At first she thinks it’s a super cute and romantic date idea, so she’s eager to try it with you.

She does a cool pose for you, elegant but powerful, and she tries to hold it for you but it ended up not being the easiest pose to hold so you have to work fast. She ends up having to stretch after that painful pose, and even though you feel a bit bad listening to her complain about how she pulled a muscle doing that, it’s hard not to enjoy how she rolls her shoulders to loosen them.

She says it was totally worth it because she loves your sketch of her. You better believe she’s going to take good care of it, even if you say it’s not good because you had to rush it. Too late. She’s not giving it back. You’ll have to fight her for it, and you know from experience you’re not winning if you try playfully roughhousing with her.

When it’s her turn to draw you, she pretends to be highly concentrated and serious, but she ends up feeling a bit embarrassed when she actually finishes her sketch of you.

It’s not bad at all, very cute, and she gave you sparkly anime eyes since they’re the only type of eye she knows how to draw. The proportions aren’t perfect, your head looks kinda big compared to your body, and it’s pretty simple, but in a way where you could claim it was a stylistic choice and not on accident.

If you really insist you love it she’ll be slightly less embarrassed, but don’t go showing that around to everyone! It’s for your eyes only!

She signs it for you with a playful green lipstick stain.

But seriously. Don’t show it around.

Johnny Joestar: Usually you’re both too tired by the time you’re setting up camp when it starts getting dark during the SBR to think about doing anything cute with each other.

But one evening you have an extra burst of energy, and there’s juuust enough light by the fire to do a sketch of Johnny.

Well, if you want to. He’s not ready to fall asleep yet so you might as well.

You really wanna capture his intense eyes. So you don’t make him do anything in particular except look at you on occasion so you can make sure you’re getting his face right.

It turns out okay. At least you got the eyes right. He doesn’t really know how to react beyond just thanking you and tucking the drawing away. The two of you can only hope nothing happens to it, but it can’t be helped with all the action during this race if your drawing ended up destroyed.

When it’s his turn to draw you, he’s quiet and concentrated, occasionally glancing up at you for accuracy’s sake but otherwise he seems to know what he’s doing, to your surprise.

“I think it turned out alright,” he comments, handing it over to you after signing it with a little star with two J’s in it.

It’s a bit of an understatement, even in the darkness with only the light of the fire to see, he captured an amazing amount of detail. You, sitting contemplatively by the fire, shadows dancing across your face with the flickering of the flames…and he got the scenery really accurate.

“Do you like drawing landscapes, Johnny?”

His sketch of your surroundings was done remarkably skillfully.

He shrugs, but then thinks about it for a moment before saying yeah, landscapes were more enjoyable to draw for him. You have to slow down a bit to capture the details of your surroundings accurately in a drawing so…perhaps he likes the change of pace every once in a while.

Gyro Zeppeli: He acts sooo confident despite knowing full well that he cannot draw people. And he’s a bit of a menace to you, since you said this was only for fun and nothing to take too seriously, then surely you don’t mind him constantly moving around and striking different poses and making weird jokes. If he was going to be ridiculous then FINE, you would draw him ridiculous.

You confidently declare your drawing is quite flattering and then spin your paper around to show him a half-hearted attempt at a sketch of him lying on his side with a rose between his teeth, surrounded by hearts. You’ve purposefully given him a tiny head so it looks silly.

He takes it as a personal challenge, declaring it was his turn so you’d better be ready. While he’s drawing you, you pretend to fall asleep like he was boring you.

You were expecting his drawing to be unprofessional but at least recognizable. When he confidently hands you back what he’s drawn you genuinely aren’t sure what you’re looking at.

“This is me?”

“YES, see this is your hair, and these are your arms…” he explains the drawing to you but can’t help the occasional laugh that escapes. So he WAS messing with you with this incomprehensible scribble he presented you with.

“You really captured my essence,” you say, holding the picture up next to your face to compare them.

“Like you have a twin,” he declares, accompanied by his signature laugh.

He’s such a TEASE sometimes-

Diego Brando: He’s really struggling to grasp the idea that this is just for fun and isn’t supposed to be super serious, because as soon as he’s done posing for you he’s hovering over your shoulder while you draw and backseat sketching for you. He’s like ‘oh my hair should be a little longer, you got my nose shape wrong, that’s not how my eyes look, etc.’

Ok Diego why don’t you draw yourself if you know so much about art, sheesh-

Even if you say that as a joke he might actually end up plucking the sketchbook and pencil from you and finishing it himself so it’s to his likeness. You find it a bit irritating that he’s actually pretty good at art and his additions to your drawing of him really make the piece come together. So annoying. How dare he be innately talented at drawing?

AND just to show off he makes you do a complex pose when it’s his turn to draw you. He ends up capturing it and your appearance on paper wonderfully.

You look great sketched by him, due to the pose he chose it almost looks like you’re in the middle of a dance, a sense of movement that made you look graceful and powerful. Just the type of thing Diego liked in his partners.

You’ve been a bit idealized in his drawing, not to your surprise, but you’re quite fond of it anyways. You make a point of not laying on the praise too thick though. Otherwise it would go to his head, and the last thing he needs is an even bigger ego.

-

Which Jojo character would you want to draw you? Personally I’d love a Rohan original but. I actually think DIO’s art style would be aesthetically pleasing to me-

[k-nayee]

Tik-Tok Killed the Video Star Hazbin Hotel i

wc: 3.7k a/n: ngl i had fun making this! hope y'all like it

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

LIVE: [Streamer: @Real___]

The ring light glowed bright, bathing your face in a soft artificial radiance that smoothed out every imperfection.

You weren’t taking any chances.

Leaning in toward your webcam, you tilt your head slightly as you examined your reflection in the streaming preview window. With precise and practiced movements, you adjusted a stray strand of hair, ensuring it fell perfectly into place.

Your skin had to be flawless—if only for this final performance.

It was almost funny, how even now, as you prepared to confess every last unforgivable sin, you still cared about how you looked.

The viewer count climbed.

At first only a few hundred trickled in. Then thousands. Then tens of thousands.

10K...40K...70K...100K...

The comment section was already a chaotic mess of scrolling text. The usual flood of usernames, some familiar, some new, all merging into a blur of reactions.

[SourCandyBites]: U MONSTER

[AztecStar]: OMG omg ily pls say hi to mexico 🇲🇽🇲🇽!!!

[lonondel_90]: WTF is this whats even happening rn??

[ChillPillPlease]: YALL SHE JUST TROLLING CHILL.

[MirrorVain]: WHY aint nobody talking about how GOOD she look??

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head in amusement as you finally flash your signature smile—bright, plastic, and perfected after years of camera training.

"Hey y’all! You already know what it is—" You paused for dramatic effect, watching the comments spike as your voice. "I know I know. This is a little weird right? Seeing me on Twitch instead of TikTok? But hey, gotta keep things fresh!"

Another flood of comments. Another spike in viewers.

120K...145K...190K...210K...

You could practically feel the world tilting toward you, drawn in like moths to a flame. The chat moved at breakneck speed, usernames flying by too fast to read. Still you caught glimpses:

[user876543]: Omg it’s really you!! 😭💖

[s1nisterViper]: NAH WTF R U DOIN HERE💀

[lilpeepfan99]: Say hi to Brazil!! 🇧🇷

[exposedtea]: MONSTER. YOU DESERVE TO ROT.

[simp4real___]: IDGAF WHAT THEY SAY I LOVE YOUUUU 😍😍😍

[SOKOLOV_feds]: 🧐👀

Your smile never faltered. Hate, adoration, indifference—it was all the same to you. Attention.

And right now you had it in abundance.

"So! Today we’re doing a special edition of Get Ready With Me—this one coming with a little bit of TEA!" You reached toward your makeup bag and dragged it into frame. The zipper unzipped smoothly, revealing an array of pristine cosmetics neatly arranged.

Foundation, concealer, brushes, powders—every tool of the trade, ready to transform you into the best version of yourself.

You picked up a tube of primer and squeezed a small amount onto your fingertips. As you rubbed it into your skin with slow methodical circles, you continued, voice light, almost casual. "Mmm oh yeah. You may be asking what are we getting ready for? Well you'll just have to wait and see."

A playful wink, the same one you’d done a thousand times before. It sent wave of anticipation rippling through the chat.

[hotdogwater24]: BRO WHAT IS GOING ON 💀💀💀

[kookiebxtch]: This feels...off.😅

[Skyline_Chaos]: WTF IS HAPPENING RN

[MurmurQueen]: this is so creepy stop😭😭

[AussieAmazed]:can u say hi to australia???

[NoFilterNell]: NAH THIS SOME REAL SHIT

[MidnightMuse]: get ready for what???👀

"Now I wanna be real with you guys. I really, truly do." You reached for a cleansing pad, running it over your skin evenly. "So I’ve decided to confess. Right here. Right now."

There was a different energy behind your voice tonight—something simmering just beneath the surface.

"First step, obviously is to start with a clean base. Gotta get rid of all the built-up dirt, oil, and, well..."—you let out a short laugh—"...bullshit."

[tea_with_tasha]: THE SHADE LMAOO

[cancelmebby]: Tf is this real life????

[JustCuriousNow]: confessing what kinda lost here

[SugawithdatTae]: yall know who she talm bout?👀

[softie4u]: GO TO HELL YOU BITCH

[Yunnie0678]: YOU KNOW WHAT TF U DID LAST YEAR

You moved onto foundation, pumping a precise amount onto a beauty sponge before dabbing it onto your cheeks and blending outward. With every soft pat against your skin the words left your mouth effortlessly.

"So let’s get into it: I was a regular person once. Just some nobody who blew up on TikTok overnight. And with fame...comes power. And with power? Ohhh, chat...the things I did I tell ya! And I got away with it too?? But no more secrets. No more running."

The next hour unfolded like a twisted diary entry.

You painted your face while painting a picture of your sins; every crime, every manipulation, every disgusting, unthinkable act you had committed with full knowledge that your wealth and influence would keep you safe.

Fraud...

Blackmail...

Backroom deals...

Murder....

Assualt...

Hush money...

From the people who had helped you to the people you had destroyed. You told them everything.

You named names; politicians, CEOs, celebrities, fellow influencers. Hell even Royal families! Anyone who had been untouchable...until now.

You had burned every bridge and exposed every secret.

The chat became an unreadable flood of reactions.

[OhMyGaaaawd]: omggggggg i cannot with this

[xani]: MY SHAYLA WHY?!😭😭 WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

[DenialZone]: I KNEW YALL MFS WAS EVIL

[fbi.gov]: 🚨🚨🚨

[WhySoSerene]: NAH U DESERVE DEATH FR💯💯

[whistleblower88]: you lying no way u did that😱

[Karma]: mf calm as if she didnt just expose all elites BRUH

[Atieh and Jacky's Therapy Sessions_stan]: IM STILL WITH YOU BABY 😍😍😍

By the time you reached the final steps of your routine, your face was fully made up—foundation, concealer, contour, a touch of highlighter. Perfection.

You checked the viewer count.

10.7 MILLION.

You chuckled under your breath, a smug little thing as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. "Oh this is definitely going down in history."

Then—

BANG BANG BANG

You froze at the sound. It echoed through the house, shaking the walls, reverberating through your bones. Your brows lifted slightly but your expression remained eerily calm.

[whoopsieD]: UHHH THAT DIDNT SOUND GOOD

[itzjustameme]: LMFAOOOOO THEY COMIN FOR UUUU

[nottherussianmafia]: 🤨

[WTF_Lunar]: WTF WAS THAT

[OfficerPlease]: those cops or security??

[UrDeepn8p]: THIS IS SOME MOVIE TYPE SHIT FR😭😭

[nameizzuzJeSOOS]: is this real or staged idk

The camera caught every detail—the way your lips curled into something almost amused, the slow way you turned your head toward the microphone.

"Oopsie." You giggled. "Guess I made some of y’all’s faves a little upset. Think they’re out for blood?"

The pounding grew louder.

With one last spritz of setting spray, you wave your face dry, ensuring everything stayed flawless. "No worries. I’m already one step ahead~" Reaching down under the desk, your fingers curl around cold metal. With a practiced motion you lifted it into the frame.

[PistolPapi]: HOLY SHIT is that a GUN

[youshouldrot]: yo YO yo wtf wtf wtf

[Stan___4evr]: mommy? sorry. mommy?

[FBI_watchlist69]: bro put the gun DOWN

[YoYoYeller]: kill yourself already, u deserve it

[rideordie_real___]: NOOOOO PLEASE STOP 😭😭😭

[not_a_cop]: 👀👀👀

Your head tilted as the shotgun balanced effortlessly in your grip. You popped it open with a satisfying snap, revealing two gleaming buckshot shells and close it once more.

You turned to the camera, smiling like a Barbie commercial. "And for those who have caught on—why yes I am depressed, mentally unstable, and quite frankly, ready to leave this dipshit of an earth."

[sweetrevenge23]: NO FUCKING WAY

[h_scanner]: 🚔🚔🚔🚔

[deathwish69]: YO WAIT HOLD ON

[pleasedontdoit]: 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[hellawaits04]: LMAOOOOO ICONIC

[kenslaysUp]: no way this is happening rn

[moneymoves3000]: THIS SOME BLACK MIRROR SHIT

You let out a small breathy laugh. "Alright but seriously." Adjusting your hold on the shotgun, you shift it into one hand as you pressed the other against your chest. "I wanna say I’m sorry. To everyone I’ve hurt, to everyone I’ve lied to. To my fans, my friends..."

Your voice dipped into something softer. Something real.

"To everyone I’ve wronged I’m sorry. To all my haters and naysayers—congrats you were right. Not that it matters. Nothing I say will atone for my sins and for what I’ve done. But maybe...maybe my death will be enough?"

A beat of silence.

A second of silence. Then—

CRASH

The unmistakable splintering of wood followed by the thud of footsteps flooded into the lower level of your house. They got in.

The chat exploded in panicked messages.

[fuckauthority]: DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT???

[paranoidxoxo]: THEY’RE IN THE HOUSE😱😱

[daddyissues420]: OH MY GOD

[govwatcher]: LAW ENFORCEMENT INCOMING

[jesuschristirl]: REPENT NEOW🙏🏾🙏🏾

[bigbootybitch33]: GIRL RUN WTF

[gov_watchlist98]: YOU’RE FUCKED LOL

[hotgoss411]: WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY RN

The comments was moving so fast now that it was unreadable.

You turned back to the camera, shotgun resting against your shoulder and beamed. "Oh and before I forget—" You gestured toward your laptop with your free hand. "This current live-stream is embedded with a virus that sends every single piece of evidence—every file, every video, every receipt—to every single person connected to my livestream. Surprise!"

[cybercrimes_unit]: ☠️☠️☠️

[We0ll see8]: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

[moral_justice]: LIVING LEGEND.

[snapeb00tysit]: DO IT PUSSY

[DudeNoChill]: bro wtf stop playin

[Punk0Lu2k]: DOES IT CONTAIN YOUR NOODS TOO??👀👀

[Brokie8ren]: AYE SEND ME SUM MONEY BEFORE YHOU KILL YOSELF, MY CASHAPP $STARRYNUTT

"So even if they do stop me..." You let the words linger, a satisfied smile curling at your lips. "Still checkmate. "

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs.

You could hear them charging down the hall. Seconds away.

You shifted the shotgun, maneuvering it with precision in a way its angled perfectly against your head as your finger curled over the trigger. At the same time, your other hand hovered over the ENTER key on your laptop.

"All I gotta do is press this button and—"

Your bedroom door burst open.

The camera didn’t capture who entered. But you saw them.

And you grinned.

"Too late fuckers!"

Your fingers moved at once.

Click.

BANG.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

A dull aching pain throbbed in your skull, deep and unrelenting, as if something had cracked open inside you.

Your body felt...off.

Too light and too heavy all at once, like your limbs weren’t quite yours anymore. A sluggish warmth clung to your skin thick and oppressive making it hard to breathe.

Your senses finally adjusted.

The first thing you noticed was the smell; burnt ash. Sulfur. Smoke curling in the air like invisible fingers.

Then came the sound; distant screams, eerie laughter, overlapping whispers that didn’t belong to any one person but still slithered into your ears like they were meant for you.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

And what you saw?

Red.

Clouds churned in dark ominous shades as a massive pentagram symbol loomed high above—it glowed sinisterly, slicing through the swirling clouds in sharp precise lines.

A moon hung beside it—a twisted scarred orb that looked as though it had been dragged from the depths of something far darker than night. And even higher in the distance, just barely visible against the red skyline, was the faint shimmer of white...possibly a star?

Jagged structures around you—half skyscrapers, half nightmares—loomed in impossible angles, their neon lights flickering in glitchy uneven patterns. The ground beneath you was scorched, still smoldering from whatever eternal fire had tried and failed to burn it all away.

You swallowed hard.

Something in the back of your mind whispered what you already knew.

This wasn’t a nightmare.

You were dead.

And this was Hell.

For a long frozen moment you simply sat there, staring at the pavement beneath you. Your breath came shallow and uneven. Your pulse—if you even had one anymore—drummed against your ribs.

Then your fingers twitched.

Something was in your pocket. Something smooth and solid...something familiar.

You slowly reached down and pulled it out:

Your phone.

A relieved breath escaped your lips. "Oh thank goodness."

The cool glass felt real in your hands, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe you could figure this out. Maybe you could find a way to call someone—

You glanced at the screen only to freeze.

No Service.

The relief shattered into ice-cold panic.

Your grip tightened, thumb swiping down to refresh—no bars. No Wi-Fi. No lifeline.

You tried again. And again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and—

Nothing.

Your stomach lurched. Your hands shook.

Something inside you snapped.

You sat on your knees, clutching the useless phone to your chest as you let out a wail. "NO! NO! NO PLEASE GOD! I'M SORRY!"

The words tore from your throat raw and broken. You gasped between sobs, squeezing your eyes shut as your nails dig into your palms.

"DON'T DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO MEEEEE—"

A soft chime.

Your eyes snapped open, breath catching in your throat. Sniffling, you pull it down to see the glowing screen. Your apps were still there.

Then, with a cautious swipe, you opened your gallery only for your heart to nearly stop.

All your pictures? Gone. Every selfie, every meme, every thirst trap, every aesthetically-pleasing shot of overpriced outfits? Erased.

And in their place?

Pictures. Screenshots. Videos.

All of them evidence of every fucked-up thing you’d ever done. Torture. Blackmail. Setups. Your biggest and most heinous crimes, all caught in 4K with timestamps, captions, and receipts.

You scrolled through them casually like flipping through an old yearbook.

"Oh damn almost forgot about that one. Good times." you muttered, rewatching one of your personal favorites—a high-definition well-lit compilation of your greatest hits.

God it was better than TV.

Speaking of—

A chill crawled up your spine.

The temperature around you shifted as a strange charged energy pressed down on your skin. The lights flickered wildly for a moment, glitching, before steadying.

You slowly stand to your feet as a towering figure suddenly appears a few feet away.

He was sharp, all jagged edges and neon accents, his black and red suit crisp and immaculate. But what stood out the most was his head—

An old-fashioned television screen.

The glass surface flickered erratically between distorted sharp-toothed grins and warped images of you from moments ago, as if he had already been watching you. Recording you.

Behind him stood several other demons. All tall, hulking, waiting for orders.

"Well well well...what do we have here?" His voice came layered—not just one tone, but multiple. Overlapping slightly like an old commercial playing on repeat.

"Huh." You tilted your head. "Who the hell are you?"

The screen on his face glitched violently. His grin remained but the static in his voice sharpened.

"You must be newcomer. How quaint." He took a step forward, his goons following suit. "Allow me introduce myself—"

With a flourish, he spread his arms, crackling energy surging through his body like a failing broadcast tower.

"I am VOX, Overlord of the Digital Age. Master of television, entertainment, and media. Everything broadcasted, everything recorded—"he gestured widely to the neon-lit cityscape behind him, "it all bends to me. And you, sweetheart, are standing in my domain."

"Uh-huh. Cool. Anyway—" you slid your phone into your pocket, "I was kind of busy. You need something Static Boy?"

A nearby streetlight exploded in a burst of pixels and sparks.

"Do you even comprehend where you are?" His voice was calm, but beneath it was a deep growing irritation.

"Yeah yeah. Hell. Domain. Big scary Overlord." You waved your hand dismissively. "Honestly I couldn't give two shits right now."

The second those words left your mouth something shifted.

Vox’s face flickered as air around him spiked like an overcharged circuit.

You didn’t know this guy but you sure as hell knew that reaction. He hated that.

And suddenly you were interested. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms, smirking up at him. "You must be one of those old-heads? Damn. You must hate people like me then."

Vox’s screen flickered again, his glow flaring slightly. "People like you?"

You grinned.

"Influencers."

There it was. That flash of disgust.

"Yup. TikTok mostly. Millions of followers. You know the usual." You grinned. "Guess we’re in the same industry huh?"

Vox’s screen glitched violently. "Your meddlesome kind have stolen relevance from true entertainment. It is no shock your type always finds its way down here with all the pollution you do. How dare you to even think you could be on my level?!"

You folded your arms. "Oh no. The evil TV man thinks I’m annoying. However will I recover?"

"You have no power here," he hissed. "I control what is seen. I��control what is heard. I control what is remembered. Any pathetic influencers that land in my Hell?" He chuckles darkly. "I make sure they’re erased permanently. No fame. No following. Just nothing."

At that you finally laughed; a short and mocking, entirely unimpressed laugh.

"Oh. I get it now." You grinned. "You’re just pissed because TV isn’t relevant anymore. You’re an old man who's generation ruined everything for mines, and now you’re mad that social media overshadow you?"

The air around him screamed for half a second before steadying. His grin stayed but it was tighter now. "You’re bold."

You shrugged. "And you’re outdated."

Vox’s face flashed red.

A beat of silence...

Then chaos.

Vox’s goons lunged, their movements sharp and inhuman as they closed in on you. They were faster than anything you’d encountered.

You barely had time to react as their glinting claws shown from the glow of the city around you. Instinct screamed at you to dodge, but before you could even flinch—

The ground split open.

From the pavement beneath your feet a mass of glowing technicolor tendrils erupted—flickering and glitching like a broken screen.

They shot forward, lashing through the air with impossible speed, grabbing one of the demons mid-leap.

A choked gasp.

A wet, sickening rip.

The goon split apart; torn in half like he was made of paper, limbs flung to the ground in uneven pieces. Blood—dark and thick—splattered onto the pavement, sizzling against the heat.

Silence.

Your breath hitched as a sudden spike of ice-cold shock crawled up your spine.

'What the fuck was that?!'

You hadn’t moved. You hadn’t done anything. Yet the thing—those tendrils had responded...to you. Your hands trembled for half a second when it clicked causing your lips to curl into a smirk. Yes, it's true you hadn’t done that on purpose.

But you sure as hell weren’t about to admit that.

Flicking imaginary dust from your sleeve, you sighed dramatically. "Whoops. Looks like I do have power here after all. Tsk. And here I was hoping we could be civil."

One of the goons glanced at the still-twitching remains of his comrade. His claws flexed as uncertainty began to bleed into his soulless eyes.

Good.

You wanted them nervous.

Across from you Vox had stiffened.

You noticed the way his form falter, the faintest distortion in his glow—the first sign of something resembling hesitation.

That made you grin.

"What’s wrong old man?" you purred, stepping forward, your tendrils pulsing with a sickly glow around you. "Didn’t think I’d put up a fight?"

A sharp burst of static cut through the air, the pixels on Vox's screen distorting wildly before stabilizing. His red eyes burned brighter as he snarled.

"Kill that bitch!"

The remaining goons paused for half a second—then rushed you.

This time you didn’t wait. Something in your blood snapped and the tendrils moved. Like snakes they twisted through the air eeriely. They tore through flesh like it was nothing.

One of the demons barely had time to scream before he was skewered, his body hoisted into the air, his limbs thrashing wildly as the tendrils twisted and ripped him apart.

Blood splattered across your face.

The others didn’t even have time to run.

A tendril shot forward and wrapped around a demon’s neck—tightening, lifting them effortlessly off the ground before snapping. Another shot forward like a bullet, piercing straight through a demon’s chest leaving a gaping hole left in their torso as they collapsed lifeless.

Faster...

Every move was precise.

Faster....

Clean. Efficient.

Faster....

It was like you had done this before. Like this was natural. In mere minutes it was over.

You let out a low whistle. "Huh. That was easier than I thought."

The bodies dropped, the blood pooled. And only one remained:

Vox.

Your tendrils slithered forward, curling around his limbs, binding him in place.

But they didn’t attack.

They simply held him. Firm. Unmoving. A silent display of dominance.

Vox was still. His claws twitched but he didn’t move.

You smirked, stepping closer. "Aww," you cooed with mock-sympathy dripping from every syllable. "What’s the matter VCR? Cat got your tongue? I thought you ran this place."

A snarl ripped from his throat, his neon glow flaring with a sharp burst of static. "It’s Vox you insufferable brat!" he snapped, his already layered voice distortion from anger.

You tilted your head slightly with twinkling eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure, Video Cassette Recorder."

His claws flexed. The tension in his body was visible, his expression twisting into something sharp and furious.

And you?

You ate it up.

Your smirk stretched into something sharper. A tendril slithered up, curling delicately around his top hat. And with a quick flick—

You plucked it off his head.

Vox’s static screeched.

You twirled the hat between your fingers, adjusting it neatly on your own head before opening your arms wide with a dramatic flourish.

"I think I like this look," you mused, lips curling. "Very showman."

A pause.

"Or in my case—" You tipped the hat slightly. "Showwoman."

Vox’s glare was murderous.

Never had he been humiliated by the likes of someone like you before. Oh how he wanted to kill you.

And even worse?

Sinners had started gathering; from the alleys, buildings, and shadows—bystanders who had been watching it all in silence.

Some were even pulling out their phones to record the spectacle.

You beamed and struck a pose. "Go ahead and tag me! @Real___! Let’s make this go viral yeah?"

The crowd—because oh yeah, there was totally a crowd now—erupted in whispers.

You beamed.

Vox seethed.

"Just you wait," he growled through gritted teeth. "When I get my hands on you—"

Your brow raised. Your tendrils tightened ever so slightly. He lets out a glitching choke and immediately shuts up.

"Better," you coo. With exaggerated movements you began to sit down. Your tendrils shift beneath you, morphing into a throne-like seat, curling comfortably around your form.

"Now," Crossing one leg over the other with a pleasant smile, your elbows rest against the armrests as you leaned in slightly, voice mockingly sweet. "Be a dear and tell me everything I need to know about Hell."

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Chapter 15

   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this post to be on the tag list. Will only add if you interact with this post that’s linked. Read DNI/BYF first. 

NOTE: Dion’s down bad and Jeremy needs more than one positive influence. Also, pray for the Reader guys. 

Warnings: Both Dion and Jeremy are out of character, toxic marriage/relationship, themes of obsession and possessiveness, slight yandere themes, anxiety, one or two mentions of vomit, near panic attack (probably), invasion of personal space (Dion needs to learn), jealousy, drugs (sleeping pills), almost normal sibling interaction between the two Agriches (they are trying their best <3), mention of birth control, Reader thinks about how Dion would make a pretty bad father (better than Lant but still bad), (Reader thinks Dion would be jealous of their future kid if they ever have one, but I think he’d be more worried about whether or not they’ll survive), Dion’s actions are very toxic no matter how you look at it. Please tell me if I missed any.

NSFW-ish warnings: mention of implied vaginal sex, Lant being creepy-ish with putting the Reader on birth control since he basically thinks the married couple is busy at night often, implied/mention of cum swallowing, mention/implied oral (male receiving) and hand job. No sexual activities actually take place, but still.     

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG FANDOM RELATED THINGS (FICS, ART, ETC.) DNI.

= = =

“Jeremy?” 

He grins so brightly it could rival the sun. “In the flesh. I heard that the old lady invited you to her room.” Hands in his pockets, he kicks a leg before leaning against the doors. His cat-like blue eyes observe your every action. It puts you on edge.

“O-oh yes… word sure does travel fast.” Lifelessly you chuckle, fingers slightly gripping the sheets below you. It takes effort not to rip them between your fingers. Averting your eyes leads to them landing on his brown boots. They looked cleaned rather than new, the laces slightly worn and a scuff mark here and there on them. 

You look at them harder. Slightly damp with some sort of cleaning material, you quickly realize he had just washed them. Scanning over his person only makes you more certain of that fact -some slime in his hair and on his pale cheek rests a small speck of blood. His clothes were wrinkled all over and his hair was windblown. 

Regardless, his clothes are still expensive looking and you wonder if they cost more than half of your wardrobe back at home. Trying your best not to frown at the reminder of how much more powerful the Agriche family is compared to your own, you’re drawn to the red on his fair cheek.

Upon seeing where your gaze rests on his face, he quickly swipes the area off a few times until the blood is no more. It stains his blue sleeve now. 

“The old lady wouldn’t shut up about it once she sent the invitation yesterday. You should have seen Dion’s face,” he scoffs with a grin at the memory. 

Knowing Dion, it was probably a twitch of the eyebrow and a glare meant for her. Their relationship is sad, in all honesty. Still, you wonder if she told him herself or if he just overheard from a second party. Or perhaps both, going to ask her in person once the news reached his ears. 

“Is that so?” Brain working overtime to keep this conversation going, you watch as Jeremy yawns while stretching his arms above his head. When like this, he really does only look like a boy - a child. But underneath his current demeanor lies a little crazy man who has no qualms about killing. 

Just how he was taught to.

The boy hums in thought, making you look at his face. He grins and you keep the cold sweat at bay. His pearly white canines nearly shine in the sunlight seeping through the glass terrace doors. He reminds you of a cat on the hunt. Ready to pounce.

How pathetic.

Even with a child you are only prey.

“Are you free tomorrow? Xana is and it’s not like I have anything going on either.” He sounds so carefree, his age showing. And yet, the fact only makes you more nervous, fingers twitching as Jeremy waits for your answer. His face is so bright that it almost looks sincere. 

Well… you do need to talk to Roxana. Maybe not ask her for help right off the bat, but establishing a ‘decent relationship’ with her and Jeremy could be a decent idea… assuming they won’t turn out to be like your husband.

Oh. I… never considered that…

Newfound apprehension forms from a single thought that just now crossed your mind. After interacting with Maria a few times, you already expected you would become one of her ‘favorites’ - for how long, you’re not sure. But what about the rest of the family?

Lant?

Sierra?

Roxana?

Jeremy?

Would they also become obsessed with you? So far, the only one who’s acting as he should is Lant and to a degree, Maria, not to mention Sierra. On the other hand, Dion, Roxana and Jeremy are not. But, as you originally thought, the two younger in-laws could just be testing you. Whatever the reason you don’t know.

You take in a small breath. You can still hear your heartbeat even as you lock eyes with him. Your gut screams at you to kick him out as you smile at him. You force your body to ‘relax’ as it stiffens when you answer.

You need to start properly playing the role of a good in-law to these people. Submissive enough to be ignored by the majority of them while the others praise you. Holding back a scowl at the newfound ‘plan,’ you realize you’re reducing yourself to nothing more than a fucking dog.

You go on regardless. 

“Yes, actually. Do you have something in mind?” His eyes brighten, pushing himself off the doors a bit. From what’s shown, there isn’t a hint of something sinister in those blue eyes of his. Your younger brother-in-law almost reminds you of Zac whenever you praise him or tag along on one of his ‘adventures’.

“You haven’t seen the entire estate, right? There’s some cool sights we could show you.” Excitedly offering up ideas you only smile and nod. In truth, just the thought of it is making your stomach churn. It wasn’t in disgust like with your husband, but rather… something else.

“That sounds nice.”

A lie that only makes him smile brighter.

However, before he could utter another word, the doors opened behind him, and had he still leaned against it, he would have fallen backwards. Dressed to the nines - then again, who isn’t in this family, ever - a certain tall, black-haired and scarlet eyes man towers over the boy like nothing. 

You flinch while Jeremy looks at the ‘intruder’ in annoyance. Your time together has come to an end, it seems. Dion glances at you before looking at his younger half-brother. 

“Since when was breaking and entering your hobby?” What should sound like a joke is said with a glare, his voice low enough to almost sound like a threat. 

“O-oh, I actually invited him in after he knocked…” There wasn’t a bond between you and the boy. But you had a feeling that if you didn’t step in, an argument would break out, and that there was a chance that Jeremy might take a swing at him. You don’t care about Dion, but you’d rather not see a kid fight a twenty-year-old.

“Did you?” He sounds doubtful but thankfully not upset.

“Y-yes.”

Your husband only continues to stare you down. Unable to maintain eye contact with him for a second longer, you turn your attention to Jeremy. “But yes, it would be nice to spend time together.” From the corner of your eye you can see Dion slightly twitch as you show sweetness to his brother and not him.

But he quickly recovers, most likely realizing how pathetic it was to be jealous over a kid. Even more so when that kid is his own brother, needing to keep appearances that he’s not as depraved as the rest of his family. You almost praise him for that.

Jeremy smugly looks at the second oldest son before turning back to you. “Okay. I’ll come by to pick you up in the morning with Xana, then.” He lingers for a bit before your husband gently nudges Jeremy’s foot with his own, signaling to the boy that he wants him out.

… this is so weird to see… and pathetic on Dion’s end.

Your husband had only recovered from short-lived jealousy. Annoyance, on the other hand, was radiating off of him.

“Hey! Why are you pushing me out!?”

“Pushing? You must be imagining things.”

If it wasn’t for their tone of voice - snarky, threatening from Jeremy and monotone from Dion - it would have passed as a normal exchange between siblings. However, with murderous rage and pure hatred in his eyes, Jeremy looks like a hissing cat. Dion, on the other hand, looks like he could easily take him down if needed, calm and calculating.

Quickly slipping your shoes back on, you hurry over to the two males. Choosing to ignore your husband, you pat Jeremy’s head, softening your eyes as you pretend he’s your lovely - annoying - Zac. 

Imagining he had (h/c) hair instead of black, replacing his blue eyes with (e/c) in your head, the memory of your brother almost puts you at ease. You make yourself feel sick for doing this - it wasn’t fair to no-one.

“Thanks for coming by, Jeremy.” Saying his name was an accident, your breath hitching once you realize your mistake. Too intimate for in-laws who barely saw each other, when one is afraid of the other. You continue on regardless. 

“I’m sad that we need to cut our conversation short, but your brother wants to talk in private.” You don’t want to be alone with the favorite son. You consider begging Jeremy to stay, but that would only backfire on you. You’re scared to find out how Dion would react if you do that.

Jeremy’s reaction is also a call for caution. So, you keep your mouth shut.

“However, feel free to come by whenever.” 

 You’re vaguely aware of your husband’s fingers daring to curl into yours as you offer smiles and attention to Jeremy. You pull that hand away, skin crawling at his touch. Like you would willingly hold his hand. 

“Oh…,” taken aback by your sudden shower of ‘affection,’ Jeremy looks at you, surprised. But a joyful grin breaks out on his face, truly showing his youth. “Alright. I’ll come by with Xana tomorrow.” He turns on his feet to leave, but not without sending one last glare towards Dion.

After the door shuts, the arranged husband and wife are left alone.

Facing the door as your husband faces you, he’s close enough to reach out and plays with a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers. It makes you want to cut that strand off, to cut all of it off and scrub yourself clean. Fingers twitch as you hold back the urge to yank your hair away from him and leave the room.

“You act affectionately towards everyone but me.” He steps closer while you become glued to your spot, breathing halted and heart almost stopping. Bringing the strand of hair up to his lips, he kisses it while looking down at you, scarlet eyes glowing with something heavy, dangerous thoughts swirling in the red irises. You’re close to screaming.

Your legs buck. Lungs stop working. Mind blank. Mouth dry as you force your right hand down, shaking and twitching as it begs to be bitten down on. 

He lets it go with an odd smile, and you tear your gaze away to look at the heavy doors in front of you. 

Sweat pools at your temples and the base of your neck. You lick your lips, terrified that Dion might take another unwanted step. That he would give in and -

“I-I don’t know what you mean…,” you speak faster than you can think. Lacing your fingers together in front of your chest, you silently pray to a God that won’t listen. For if he did, you wouldn’t be here.

You must repent for your sins before he lends you an ear.

“You don’t?” His pointer finger curls and then wipes away a tear you didn’t even notice that leaked, and you start to breathe rapidly. “You smiled at two guards yesterday while ignoring me. And just now you even rubbed Jeremy’s head while you refused to touch me.”

You just shake your head, prayer after prayer said in your head. No-one answers them.

“He’s a boy… n-no need to get… upset over it.” Your toes curl in your shoes. The door is right there, you could try your luck. Oh, but when you look at him from the corner of your eye, you realize that’s impossible - his eyes are solely on you. Watching your every move, every twitch, every exhale and inhale. His attention to detail is clear as day when he calls you ‘cute’ once he notices how you caught on.

Your stomach churns.

He starts to talk again, and for once he doesn’t lean in closer or hold the back of your neck or head. “You’re right - he’s just a boy… setting aside the fact he could easily take on a good amount of the regular guards.” His reply is accompanied with a lazy smirk.

You blink, turning your head to face him. You’re still trembling, still holding back screams and sobs the longer he stays here. But, you needed to say something, slightly annoyed he’s knowingly ignoring what you meant. “I-I am fully a- aware of that,” your body twitches as you look down to the side, “and I kn - know you know what I me-mean.”

You can’t stop stuttering. It’s embarrassing, it makes you feel like a child. But how can you talk properly to a man that gladly assisted in taking your freedom away? His pretty little songbird.

Your husband hums in thought before pushing back a few strands of hair behind your ear. He takes a step back when you do. 

How considerate of him.

Was silence always this painful? Or was it just his suffocating presence that taints the air around you? Are you really going to suffer being his wife, a part of this family for the rest of your life, no matter how short?

Was your sin so offensive that it carried over to this world?

While you’re drowning in your anxiety and panic, Dion merely looks at you. Shamefully, day by day it gets harder and harder to just limit himself to fleeting touches. He’s all too painfully aware that you’re terrified of him, that you despise being here and to bear his last name. 

He knows it’s not romantic. That it’s dangerous and all kinds of fucked up. But his feelings for you are genuine, no matter how twisted. He wonders if that realization would only drive you away once you get it.

It’s not romantic but it’s the closest thing he knows to it. And it makes everything all the more ironic. 

Soon, he’ll learn the price of pushing and pushing and pushing.

Both of you are startled by three knocks at the door, too caught up in your thoughts to even hear the footsteps. A regular occurrence for you but an extremely rare one for him. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“My Lady, I have returned with the sleeping pills. May I come in?”

Oh! You forgot all about Hana, how silly of you.

Hana my savior, my hero, God I think you’re my favorite person now and -

“Y-yes!” You squeak out, acting a bit too fast just to open the door yourself. Both your maid and husband are taken aback by this, especially when you hold the door open for her. “Come in.” You usher her, watching as her look of confusion becomes stoney once Dion enters her field of vision, standing tall, towering over both of you.

She bows her head as she continues to hold a silver tray with the pills on it. Unnecessary to carry it just for measly pills, but the fact she’s here at all improves your mood significantly. You’re so caught up in her that you don’t see the way Dion’s eye twitches before his expression becomes true neutral as he sees how warm you are with her.

“Greetings, Young Master.” She doesn’t spare him another glance as her attention returns to you. “My Lady, what time do you plan on retiring to bed?” She places the tray on the nightside table and it’s only then do you notice it.

Red wrappers hiding away the appearance of small balls rests on the tray. Watching as she takes the three pieces of what you assume to be candy and pills off the tray, you give her an answer. Your eyes never leave the candies, though. 

“Um… around eight, I suppose.” Currently it’s three in the afternoon. And currently, you’re doing your best to ignore your husband’s horrible stare. But thanks to Hana being here, it doesn’t burn as hot. 

Yes, you think. It was a good thing you helped her out back with Maria. Any other maid wouldn’t be able to withstand Dion’s presence more than her. Not batting an eye right after greeting him and yet, you don’t sense any hostility from him towards Hana.

Unlike with the guards from last night.

How… odd.

Oh. right. Dion was the one who assigned her to you. Meaning most likely he didn’t have any animosity towards her. Then, it hits you -

There’s a reason she’s here.

You bite your lip, holding back a cold shiver that threatens to crawl down your spine. No. Right now isn’t the time to think about such things. Right now is the time to thank her with a small smile, hoping your eyes aren’t showing your worries.

“O-oh,” you gesture to the candy with your head, “if I may ask, where did the candy come from?” 

“Ah, yes. Young Master Jeremy requested that I give them to you. To take away the sour taste.”

“Oh. He’s sweet. But what does he mean by ‘sour taste?” Your gut tells you that it concerns Dion. Your guess is confirmed when Hana glances at him, figuring out a way to explain without offending the man.

Your husband decides to answer in her stead.

“His new hobby is butting in with things that don’t concern him.” Clearly annoyed, your husband eyes them, scarlet narrowing into slits. Despite this, he doesn’t make a move to dispose of them or send them back.

His answer implies that the candy serves as a ‘fuck you’ to his older half-brother. Wait, doesn’t this mean that Jeremy waited for Hana? Or was it just a coincidence they crossed paths?

“He’s been carrying candy with him for a while now,” Dion says like he just read your mind. His boots echo in the room until he’s standing at your side once more. His scent makes your nerves go into overdrive, gulping down a cry for help. When Hana turns back around to take her leave, you offer a wavering smile.

“Thank you, Hana… oh, later today can you help me pick out a small gift for him? As thanks for the candy.” Truthfully, you don’t want to see the youth. His big eyes filled with an adoration held for a sibling is misdirected at you - be it for a test or a craving for something that is vastly different from what is brewed in this family.

You hate how it reminds you of the sassy twelve-year-old who sneaks into your room in the early morning. Of how it reminds you of the way your own brother would buzz around you like a bee when he was done with his tasks for the day, or simply didn’t want to be alone, his stupid grin, his stupid remarks that made your eye twitch and - 

… you miss Zac. 

“Yes, My Lady. I am ready whenever you are.” 

She hesitates before leaving, glancing at Dion and then at you. In the end she bows her head, carrying the silver tray with her. It becomes quiet when the door shuts behind her. 

A rabbit left alone with the wolf.

Fuck… I should have gone with Hana, you lament, the opportunity that once presented itself was now gone in the blink of an eye.   

“You seem close.” Dion states after observing your short interaction. “It does hurt a bit that my own wife is close with everyone else but me.” He teases, but something akin to ‘hurt’ lays barely hidden in his words.

Hah. Sucks to suck.

“... arranged wife.” Murmuring under your breath, you ignore the way his body twitches at your addition. Surely this man isn’t under the impression that you have begun to open up to the idea of accepting him merely because you let him have a few fleeting touches here and there. Or having silly ‘hope’ or an expectation that you will fall into his lap at some point in the future.

Whatever reason he had for keeping you was still a mystery. You could only guess, but every one only spelled imprisonment and suffering on your behalf.

“Right.” Dion doesn’t say anything else, but looks at you instead. A bit passes before he opens his mouth again, delivering news that makes your skin crawl at the implication yet soothes one of your worries.

“Father plans on putting you on conceptions starting tonight.” He delivers it so bluntly you almost mistook it for a joke. 

“Oh,” you say, somewhat grateful while extremely disgusted at the implied nightly activities your father-in-law presumes you engage in with his son. At least this means he doesn’t expect a grandchild anytime soon. “That’s… fine. Great, even.”

Your husband doesn’t react to your relief of not having to bear his child just yet. Like he expected it - a quick glance and it doesn’t even look like he was bothered by it. Perhaps the thought of a child might upset him to a degree - after all, having a child would mean all of your attention would be on them and not him. 

It’s clear he’s not fond of sharing. Even so, you can’t help but frown at how jealous he can be. Possessive or not, one should not be jealous of their own child receiving attention that they need.

Silence resumes. Fidgeting with your fingers, you do your best to ignore the strong effort it takes to breathe in a single breath. You should make an excuse to leave. Call for Hana and start to look for a gift for Jeremy. Lie and say you feel sick, kicking him out.

Anything. Anything to avoid his burning gaze, to get out of his presence that chokes you. To escape the one place he always seems to corner you in, behind closed doors as longing touches grazes your skin, with the only time he leaves you alone completely is when you’re laying down on the bed meant for two.

Instead all you do is stay in place. In place while your husband looks like he’s ready to pounce on you - either in a sexual or ‘loving’ manner, it doesn’t matter. Both make you want to vomit. Alias, it’s not like you will always be able to avoid intimate touches forever. Lust is a state that many feel and sometimes give into, and considering he had a few erections, it’s clear that, unfortunately, he is one of them who feels it.

The only thing you’re willing to offer are your hands or mouth. You’ll even swallow if it means he doesn’t try to escalate things further and penetrate you. 

“... you’re… you’re staring ra-rather hard.” Your voice cracks. It doesn’t even sound like yours, it sounds like a dying woman’s.

Ever so gently, hesitance obvious in his actions, one of his hands cups your cheek. You jolt, startled at his cold touch. He feels like a dead person. These same hands that hold you ‘lovingly’ are the same hands that have strangled the life out of numerous victims, enemies and family members alike. 

Goosebumps form on your skin. You’re starting to feel like a corpse, your lifeforce slowly draining away at his touch.

Frozen, you can’t react as he lifts your chin up, and your eyebrows furrow in dread and eyes widen in fear when you see how soft his expression is. Like this ‘side’ of him was reserved for you and you alone.

Your husband opens his mouth only to close it. And when he does decide to talk, he says -

“You’re beautiful.” 

You laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh, crazed as you stumble away from him. You shake your head violently. He’s crazy, this is insane, he shouldn’t be like this. None of this should be happening. 

He shouldn’t be playing house with you, he should be obsessing over his sister. He shouldn’t be here, gentle, instead he should be on the battlefield, acting as either Lant’s or Roxana’s dog depending on the timeline. He shouldn’t be spewing out nonsense, he should be out-performing everyone in this household. 

He shouldn’t be involved with anything ‘romantic’ or sexual.

“St-stop. Stop. Just - please, just stop. I-I ca-can’t take much more of this.” You keep walking backwards until you hit the edge of the bed. Your body becomes heavy and falls onto the mattress, a creak echoing in the bedroom.

“... you drive me insane.” He should leave you alone. Walk out the doors and let you have alone time. But his feet start moving before he even thinks about anything else. Like a moth to the flame, he burns himself while fanning your flames, embers spitting out.

Dion stops right in front of you, gets on one of his knees. Your husband takes one of your hands into his and you almost throw up on the spot. Your nerves are wrecked and fried, and for a moment, you think that you’re in an awful, awful nightmare. 

Dion knows he should walk away. But you’re a magnet he’s drawn to and despite his efforts, he only scares you instead of giving you peace. Giving you more reasons to detest him than ‘love’ him.

He knows he should back off. Maybe leave with a kiss to the back of your hand, as suggested by Ash. Instead he’s doing everything that the doctor advised against, needing to swallow you whole.

He really is a horrible husband.

Still, you’re just so -

“You drive me insane. I’ll bark if you tell me to, if it means you’ll finally look my way.” 

= = =

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[jackoshadows]

"... best you have a new face as well.” He cupped her chin, turned her head this way and that, nodded. “A pretty one this time, I think. As pretty as your own." - Arya, ADwD

A recap and a lesson for fandom newbies -

We have this CANON ACCURATE fanart of Arya Stark from the incredibly talented Tonyloom with the long face, brown hair and grey eyes dressed for feast time at Winterfell as the daughter of the Warden of the North.

A Sansa fan gets triggered by this Arya fanart because it's different from ones that Sansa stans usually like for their 'Stark sisters' fanart - where Arya is drawn dark skinned to highlight Sansa's fair complexion because Sansa is beautiful and Arya is ugly, where Arya is missing teeth, always a sword in hand, messy hair being braided by Sansa to conform to what Sansa likes etc. - and goes on an insane rant about how Arya fans don't want Arya to be ugly because of equating goodness to beauty....

So Arya fans respond to this attack on the fan artist and point to the book text where several characters call Arya pretty and beautiful and ask why they should consider the character ugly when she is not in the text of the books.

A BNF then jumps into the discourse and reblogs the 'Arya is ugly and Arya fans have internalized misogyny' post and pretends that Arya fans are the ones starting this whole discourse on Arya's looks.

BNF tags it as 'This is weird discourse, who cares if Arya is pretty'. Who cares if Arya is pretty? The weird, racist Sansa stan that you reblogged the post from, who got triggered by some Arya fan art and had to go on an entire rant, that's who. Who cares? Well you cared enough to reblog an 'Arya is ugly' post and point fingers at Arya fans, that's who.

And now the BNFs reblog spreads like wildfire amongst the casual fans and we have many who actually think that canon Arya is ugly and Arya fans just have internalized misogyny. This, children, is how the many wrong but popular fanon gets created.

Remember, this BNF had nothing to say about racist Arya fanart. Nothing to say about sexist posts where Arya is masculinized and her femininty stripped from her. Nothing to say about the many posts from Sansa stans/Jonsa shippers about how Jon is repulsed by Arya's ugliness and loves Sansa because she is so beautiful.

But they had to step in and make sure everyone knew that Arya is ugly and it's Arya fans who are the problem.

This is actually nothing new. The reason there is so much wrong misinformation about Arya and Daenerys, and the way this fandom has opinions about these two female characters, is because it's been crafted over decades of fandom BNF's spreading posts and meta like this through BNF blogs like Asoiafuniversity. Explained so well in this post here:

Villainizing Arya fans as 'bad fans' has long been a thing in fandom. Asoiafuniversity, which was the goto place for all things asoiaf in those days, had actual posts equating Arya fans to Walter White fans from Breaking bad who hated on his wife Skylar.

Keep in mind, this is an actual quote from a post on the most popular asoiaf blog when the fandom was very active:

The interesting thing about Arya is that unlike most of the male Bad Fan icons, she doesn’t have a wife to embody her Bad Fans’ frustrations and serve as an outlet for their ire – no Betty Draper, no Skyler White, no Carmela Soprano. Instead, she has a sister, Sansa, who winds up serving the same function. Much of Bad Fandom is a gendered phenomenon, pulling for he-man figures against shrewish wives who just don’t understand them. It’s fascinating to see how the phenomenon can alter itself to accommodate a female-female pairing while still targeting characteristics we typically gender female. The Bad Fan is nothing if not durable.

So much toxic sexism masquerading as feminism, where they equate Arya fans to the chuds who hate female characters and whose unfair target is Sansa because she is 'female'. And Arya is a 'he-man' figure....The mind boggles.

But this was the typical vile sexist garbage Bnfs were spewing about both Arya and Daenerys in the days when fandom was most active and this is where a majority of the sexist opinions about Arya and Dany comes from.

This is why these canonically wrong aspects of these characters are so widespread and entrenched in fandom thought that it doesn't matter if we use actual book quotes to show that it's the exact opposite.

[keyaho]

ℍ𝕒𝕝𝕗𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 : 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

summary: Gianna has been best friends with Terry Richmond since they were in primary school. While she pursued higher education by chasing the title of Dr. he became a force on the field. When life smacks her friend in the face, Gianna does what she can to help.

word count: 1k

Fulton County Courthouse - 0845AM - Smith v Richmond

Judge Matthews had taken his seat as Gianna watched as Terry's shoulders straightened. She couldn't see his face, but each time she saw his side profile it was tight lipped and tense. His eyes were hard and she was glad she wasn't on the receiving end of them. 

I don't like my time being wasted. He said, while shuffling papers in front of him. So I thank both pirates for making this straightforward. Sliding on his glasses, the judge lifted the one paper they were all here for. In the case of paternity of two year old Carter Smith, Mr. Terrance Richmond, you are…….NOT the father. 

"NO!" 

The judge pointed a hard look to the plaintiff, Keisha Smith, Terry's ex-girlfriend. A few months ago Terry had discovered Keisha had cheated on him and the little boy he had grown to love and adore was not his. Gianna saw Terry's shoulders slump forward and the defeat in his eyes wasn't missed by her. She knew her best friend. 

"Ms. Smith,' the judge sighed, "the next time you come through the Fulton County court system it had better because the right person is on the other side of this court room. I implore you to think carefully in the future." 

Judge Matthews then turned his head towards Terry. 

"Mr. Richmond,' he states cooly, "I can see that you are attached to the child as expected given the circumstances and it is up to you what your next steps will be, but as I've told Ms. Smith, I implore you as well to think carefully in the future." 

When the gavel slammed down, Gianna jumped. As soon as the judge left, Keisha shot up from her chair, nearly knocking it over, and tried to make her way over to Terry's side. 

"That test is a lie!" She screamed, the life she had become used to was gone, for good now. "He's your son! I don't care what that test says!" 

Terry worked his jaw and stepped around his lawyer. The last thing he wanted to do was face the camera and reporters out front so he had asked her to find another way out. The alley in the back was perfect. Gianna went ahead of him as he spoke with his parents. 

Terry's Penthouse - Noon

Gianna stepped out of her room to a dark house. The curtains were drawn shut and the interior lights were off. After court they had gone for a quick breakfast. He ate and she tried to make sure he knew she was here when he was ready to talk. Instead, he drove them back to the apartment and retreated to his room. She caught herself up on a class assignment then took a nap, setting her alarm so she didn't sleep the day away. 

The large living room was devoid of the warmth that used to be in it. The toys Terry had bought were gone. She didn't have to go check what used to be Carter's room to know Terry had cleaned it out already. Pulling her phone from her hoodie, she placed an order for takeout to be delivered so they had something to eat. 

"Terry,' Gianna called as she walked towards his bedroom. 

Before she could get to his door her phone buzzed multiple times. Most were from his family asking if he was okay because he wasn't picking up the phone. They knew she stayed with him and would go through her to get to him when needed. Gianna knew they just wanted to be there for him, but he wasn't talking. Keisha had called him several times trying to guilt him into caring for Carter. Eventually, she told him it needed to be through a lawyer if he decided to stay in touch with him. She always asked if he wanted that headache, because she wasn't going to make it easy. 

Pushing open the door to his suite, Gianna found Terry awake in bed, watching previous season tapes. It didn't look like he had slept and the used tissue beside the bed let her know he had been crying. 

"I ordered take out from Sharks. It should be here in about thirty minutes." 

Instead of replying, he patted the bed. Maybe he was ready to open up. When she was settled against the pillows he turned down the volume of the TV. 

"Would it be wrong if I walked away from Carter." 

"I can't-'

"Just answer honestly. Would you still,' he says, frustration laced in his voice as he tried not to give into his emotions again. "Be there?"

"It would be hard,' she replied. "Keisha isn't going to make it easy, Terry. If you agree to stay in Carter's life, you're not going to be able to walk away." 

"So you would walk away." He says. 

Gianna sighed. "It's not about what I want in the end. "You had your relationship and son taken from you over the past six months. You're not in the right headspace to make that decision." 

Her eyes flicked to the TV. The new season was about to start and as his best friend she often helped him out during. Pre-season was no joke and he thanked her each time the season went smooth. They were Superbowl bound this year and nothing was going to stop them this time. She was beginning her doctoral program at Clark and had a bit more leeway as she was diving into her thesis research. She wanted to create a profitable thesis and what better thing to study than football? Specifically the various teams and their cultures, however, she framed it through the lens of literature paralleling plays to stage plays. 

"Right,' he sighs. "Leave it to you to be reasonable." 

"One of us has to be." 

Gianna was always the grounded one. The responsible one of the two. He came to her with everything and she felt more like a manager than a friend at times. This time to the season stressed him because it was all eyes on him again. This time there was an expectation he would lead the Falcons to a Superbowl win. That was pressure. 

"Whatever you decided I'm here for you." 

Terry looked at Gianna and took her hand. "Thanks, Gigi." 

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