#meme's getting old but I had to reblog this one

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

[darnell-la]

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗬 𝗠𝗜𝗫

pairing: dark!dom!Logan Howlett x non-mutant!fem!reader

warning: drugging, head butting, oral (fem receiving), nightmare fuck, woken from sleep, rough fuck, multiple orgasms, obsession, etc.

note: we can’t stop writing about this man. he’s everything we need.

please like, COMMENT, follow, reblog, and REQUEST us!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

“Maybe you’re just no one’s type anymore, sugar. That attitude doesn’t sit well on women like you,” Logan said across the bar after hearing y/n complain to Storm that it’s hard to find a person she’s interested in.

“Or maybe you can mind your business!?” Y/n turned to look his way with a yell. Storm slightly touched her back to calm her now. “No! — I’m tired of him talking. It’s not like you’re so sweet yourself!” Y/n said.

Logan looked at the frustrated young lady with a grin as he placed his cigar in his mouth. “Ain’t like your dick could stand up still either,” she said, making the people who were listening, laugh.

“Ahh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Logan said, unfazed by the small words she tried to use to hurt his feelings. “Actually, I wouldn’t, because even Jean didn’t want a piece of you. And that was when you were younger,” she said.

People were shocked at her words, still laughing but watching out how much. They knew mentioning Jane was a topic he hated hearing.

“Watch what you say. Just because you ain’t a mutant, don’t mean I won’t handle you,” Logan said. Of course, her heart rate raised, but she stood her ground as she got up from the bar seat.

“Try me,” she said, making the metal-boned man laugh as he approached her. He could see her chest rise, knowing she wanted nothing she challenged him to do.

Logan looked back at Storm who was shaking her head as she pointed at the shit glasses y/n had downed. A whole tray that hold at least fifteen was insane for a human.

Logan looked back at y/n understanding why she felt so much emotion tonight. Her eyes were glossy and she slightly swayed back and forth. She was definitely halfway to passing out.

Logan leaned forward, mouth slightly grazing Y/n’s ear. “Go to bed, sweet cheeks,” Logan said as his hot breath hit the side of her face before heading to his room.

It’s been a few weeks since the incident at the bar with Logan. Y/n decided to keep it cool for a while until no one expected anything.

“Logan, can you please get my phone from the living room while I cook, please?” Y/n asked. He sighed loudly, always grumpy about something as he got up and walked out of the kitchen.

Y/n quickly pulled two pills out of her pocket and dropped them into his full glass of liquor. She had gone through the pharmacy they had for mutants downstairs, and searched for something that would make him rethink what he said to her.

Y/n went to walk away until she stopped and thought of his constant bullying since she got here.

Y/n pulled two boxes from her other pocket, took every pill from their wrapper, and dumped them in his drink. “One for your lazy dick, and the other energy since I should go to sleep early,”

Y/n quickly through the trash in the bin before running back to continue cooking. “Almost done,” she smiled as he placed her phone down with a fake smile back.

“For a mutant, you sure do get tired walkin’ room to room,” y/n snickered as he downed his drink. If he looked at the glass, he would’ve noticed something off, but he didn’t think of it.

“Does liquor get old these days? Fuckin’ hell,” Logan spoke with a few coughs. Y/n did her best, to keep her laughing. He had no clue.

“Logan, relax!” Y/n heard Scott yell somewhere in the mansion. At first, she thought they were arguing again until something broke and Jane screamed. What the hell is going on?

Y/n quickly got up from her bed and ran out of her room, toward where ever they were. “Logan, relax! Y-You’re safe!” Jane spoke. She’s told y/n she had to use those words whenever he got out of control.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked as she stepped around the corner. Logan’s head instantly snapped towards her. “No,” Scott said, having a feeling what Logan was going to do.

“Y/n, stay back. H-He’s not doing well right-“ Jean spoke but got knocked out of the way by Logan running towards y/n. As well as Scott.

Y/n tried to run, but before she could turn all the way around, he grabbed her, quickly throwing her over his shoulders before running away.

“Hey! — Let me go, Logan! Stop it!” She yelled as he ran towards the front door. Where was he taking her? Why was he taking her? He almost made it out of the mansion with her in hand until Storm used the wind to drag y/n back.

Logan stumbled, realizing she wasn’t in his hold anymore. He turned around stepped forward followed after y/n was dragged back until he looked up to see the whole crew staring right back at him.

Logan let out a loud growl before running off and out into the darkness of night.

“What the fuck!” Y/n shouted as Storm lifted her up and Jean checked her for any bruises. “What the hell is his problem?” Y/n asked as Scott ran out of the house to see where Logan had run off.

“Motherfucker’s taking my bike!” Scott shouted. “We don’t know. He was sitting on the couch, eatin’ the rest of the food you cooked, as always, then — then he started switching,” Jean said.

��At first it was mild, but I noticed it first. He then asked where you were and if we thought you’d be asleep yet,” Storm said. “We said we didn’t know, and he instantly grew angry,” Jean said.

“Motherfucker got up to go to your room and I stopped him before he could,” Scott said as he ran back into the mansion. It was late and y/n was confused. What was happening?

Y/n’s currently in her room as the crew took the yet to go find Logan. Xavier came with them. He said, maybe if he got closer to Logan, he could ease into his mind.

The school has been out for a couple of weeks, so the kids are either with their parents or in buddy groups somewhere in instate.

This means y/n has the whole mansion to herself on one of the worst days possible. While an animal is loose. A wild animal.

Y/n thought if she closed her eyes and went to sleep, she wouldn’t stress as much, so that’s what she did. Now she’s deep in her sleep, dreaming about what she was trying to distract herself from. Logan.

Logan was chasing her through the long halls. Every door being locked and the hall getting longer was the most terrifying part of the nightmare.

He chased her for what felt like hours. Each time he spoke, it felt like he was closer.

“Don’t run” “Stay still” “Mhm — That’s it” “All that shit talkin’ and you’re cryin’. Pathetic,” he said with a chuckle following behind his voice.

“Please, someone help!” She yelled in her dreams as she felt his breath on her neck. She was caught. Logan grabbed y/n and dragged her to a room that would’ve been locked for her.

“You’re a fast one, but I’ve gotcha,” he growled low as he hovered over the girl, lips inches from hers. “Smellin’ so good for me. You’re such a tease,” Logan ripped her clothes off. They disappear into dust. She knew she had to be dreaming.

“Runnin’ from me, but you’re soaked. You’re a lair, baby,” he said as he slipped her panties off, sniffing them before placing them in his back pocket. “Now how about ya cum for me?”

Y/n woke up slowly, hearing a voice in her room. “Now how about ya cum for me?” She heard for the second time, but in between her legs. Y/n whined as she looked down, not knowing what was happening until she saw him.

Logan was in between her legs, sucking on her pussy like a starved man. “Logan!” She screamed, scared at first until her back arched from the full effect of his tongue all over and between her folds.

Logan watched her reaction as he ducked on her hard, eating her out rougher than before. He’s been at this for. Good thirsty minutes and still couldn’t get enough.

“Gimme another,” he said. “What? — I-I don’t- Fuck,” y/n’s eyes rolled back. He was working her just right. He knew he was. He’s been waiting all night. From when he was eating the rest of dinner, to when he hid in the woods, waiting for the crew to leave, to sneaking in her room, hoping not to wake her up too early.

“Give me a 6th one, heh? Then I’ll fill ya up,” Logan said as he slipped two fingers into her cunt, curling and pumping into her to force another one he so desperately wanted.

The instant pressure of his fingers sent y/n over the edge with a loud cry and shake. She came all over his face, wetting him like a waterpark.

“Fuuuck,” Logan groaned, feeling in heaven. “Can never get tired of that, princess,” Logan said as he crawled up and over her until he attacked his lips onto her, softly.

Y/n kissed back for a second, feeling too deep into the mood. She only lasted for a little bit after she woke up, but she was sure this was the best orgasm she’s ever had.

“Logan- Logan!” Y/n pushed at his chest, making him lean back. “W-We can’t. They’re looking for you and you’re — You’re here eating me out and making out with me and-“ y/n’s mind ran everywhere until he cut her off with a short kiss.

“It’s okay, sugar. I need them out of the house for what I’m about to do to you,” Logan said, confusing her. “Logan — You’re feeling this way because I drugged you,” y/n blurted out.

Logan forced over her as she slapped her hands over her face in embarrassment. “Saying that out loud makes me feel bad, but, yes. I put a whole box of energy pills and Viagra on your drink when you went and grabbed my phone — I-I’m sorry,” y/n genuinely apologizes.

She thought he was going to lash out before she heard him chuckle. That chuckle turned into a laugh as he leaned up off of the bed.

“Baby, I pieced that together when I was in the living room, eatin,” Logan said as y/n backed up against her headboard. “My plan was to go up to your room and confront you before fucking you into your mattress, but Scott stopped me,”

“Then I saw you come around the corner and thought I could fuck you into the dirty in the woods like the low and pathetic slut you are, but Scott stopped me again,”

“So I ran — I knew they’d come looking for me. I waited in the woods for nearly an hour. Cock throbbing. Balls waiting to empty. I wanted to jack one off right then, but I knew it wouldn’t have been enough,”

“Besides — I’d rather fill every whole you’ve got to satisfy my needs,” Logan said before lunging at y/n. Y/n screamed and fought, trying to get from under him, but there was no use. He was stronger and wild. He needed her now.

“Keep fightin, baby. Always seemed hot knowing you couldn’t overpower me, even if you tried,” he mocked as he ripped his jeans off of him, as well as his boxers.

“N-No, no, no! Logan, I-I’m not doing this. I’m not doing — That!” Y/n said after seeing his length. He was long. He was huge. Veins nearly covered the whole thing. His balls looked stiff and in need of release.

“You’re gonna take it. You brought this on yourself, princess,” Logan said as he ripped his shirt off. Y/n had just noticed she was fully naked. He had stripped her from her nightgown when she was sleeping.

“I-It was a mistake!” Y/n tried pushing back as he came in between her legs. “Was it though? I smell how wet you get around me every day. All that anger is just an excuse because you’re too bitchy to ask for my cock,” Logan looked directly into her eyes, just a few inches away.

“Well, you won’t have to ask anymore. I’ve got the picture from now on,” Logan forced his huge length inside of y/n, stretching her walls in an instant. She cried at the pain but moaned at the pleasure.

“Yeah,” he growled, teeth stuck together. “Gonna fuck you all fuckin’ night,” Logan’s hips began to move at an ungodly pace. The huge man leaned over y/n like an inhuman form. Deep down he was.

He placed her legs on his shoulders and pushed down into her like some duck doll he had ready in his room for him.

Her lower back was slightly in the air. She could him thrust into her fully. She was forced to watch him use her cunt like some movie.

“L-Logan,” y/n threw her head back as she came unexpectedly from the angle he had her in. “Look at that waterfall. So fuckin’ pretty,” Logan wished he could slurp her up, but he was too busy digging in her guts for more.

“You know — That comment about Jean back at the bar — It was unnecessary,” Logan began a conversation with y/n. She was so confused about how because she was struggling to keep her mind straight. Her head already seemed light.

“I should’ve dragged you to my room then, but I was calm. Noticed you had a few drinks. Drinks always make sluts act out,” he spat.

“Anyway — About Jean. Yeah, I lost feelings a while ago. You wanna know when? When you came along,” he admitted. “Those sexy jeans and top that hugged your body set me off, quick. Jean was outta there,”

“Then your personality. Sweet and precious but evil to people like me. People who’re assholes,” he leaned closer to her face. “But, you know what, baby? I think you like assholes. Just look at the way you take my cock. I’m basically bullying myself into you,”

He wasn’t wrong. Before y/n signed up to teach at the school slash mansion, she was always caught up with some deuce. She wouldn’t be lying if she said she felt a type of way around Logan after realizing how grumpy and mean he can get.

She didn’t realize at the time, but when he felt the need to let some steam loose earlier today, he asked, looking for y/n. Not Jean. His mind was all on y/n.

“Such a slut — You’re squeezing me,” he teased as he felt himself grow close. “Keep goin’ — I know you like this,” he said as y/n’s mouth parted. The groan leaving Logan’s mouth as he watched y/n cum on his cock for the second time tonight, sent him over the edge.

The man had no words. All he could do was groan and growl loudly as he pounded into her, watching the light leave her eyes. She was definitely done for tonight.

“Fuck!” He yelled, cum spilling into her throbbing cunt. Logan thrust slowly, watching their cum coat his cock. He knew after tonight, that he’d need her every night. He was going to make that happen whether her attitude matched his or not.

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light Profanity, Light Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Fingering, Mentions of Cunnilingus, Public Sex (Sort of), Office Sex

WC: ~9.8k

Summary: 

Nanami may be disconnected from social media trends, but he’s not oblivious. He’s overheard the crass innuendos and seen the tasteless memes on Yuji's phone. He knows the vulgar things some men say—about how excited they get when the summer begins. 

It always seemed so stupid and dramatic to Nanami, who has never had a straying eye to actually see if the rumors were true. But now that you’ve come into his life…he gets it.

Oh, he gets it. 

Sundress season.

Notes: Hello! Had a random thought this morning and decided to roll with it and practice writing Nanami some more. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this one-shot.

This is a prime example of me writing smut when I feel like it. Please do not ask me for more related to this story and please do not ask me to write smut, the answer is no lol. This is just a one-shot of a random idea, please enjoy it for what it is lol. Thank you all for understanding!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @arminsumi | Header: made by myself

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The city summers are a different kind of hell. The humid heat clings to Nanami, making his skin feel instantly tacky as if he hasn’t showered in days. It wreaks havoc on his usual crisp suit and tie, causing the fabric to stubbornly adhere in unflattering ways. He thinks back wistfully to his bachelor days when he could simply escape such misery by holing up inside with the AC blasting, and then wait until the evening for a walk or to run errands. But that was before you came into his life like a vivacious sunbeam, all warmth and carefree laughter.

Now, he wouldn’t dream of depriving you of simple joys like strolling hand-in-hand through the park, watching you bask in nature’s dazzling seasonal shifts. The fragrant flowers blooming, the fireflies flickering to life as dusk settles, the earthy pre-rain smell you adore��he lives for the ease of these tranquil moments.

Throughout your relationship, Nanami has cataloged your ever-changing looks to match the passing seasons. The oversized chunky sweaters and leggings you’d cuddle up in during fall’s crisp breezes. The sleek peacoats and woolen scarves wound around your neck when winter blanketed the city in soft stillness.

But summertime is when your vibrant spirit and personal style shines. And it’s Nanami’s first summer with you when everything changes.

Nanami may be disconnected from social media trends, but he’s not oblivious. He’s overheard the crass innuendos and seen the tasteless memes on Yuji's phone. He knows the vulgar things some men say—about how excited they get when the summer begins. 

It always seemed so stupid and dramatic to Nanami, who has never had a straying eye to actually see if the rumors were true. But now that you’ve come into his life…he gets it.

Oh, he gets it. 

Sundress season.

And it’s a season that has awoken something primal within him. Something in his gut stirs, something in his mind shifts and the more he notices, the more he feels like a lecherous old man instead of the well-mannered one in his late twenties. While his clothes stick uncomfortably to his sweat-slicked skin you get to slip into breezy summer dresses that let every inch of your beautiful body breathe. 

As an event planner constantly on the move, you seem to live in the wispy, colorful outfits at all hours of the day. Like the buttercup yellow and candy pink number currently floating around you as you stroll together to the bakery during your shared lunch hour. It’s modest—cotton fabric that doesn’t stick to you, with ruffle short sleeves and a V-neckline that highlights your collarbones and the delicate diamond necklace resting between.

Nanami risks a sidelong glance, instantly regretting it when his gaze gets trapped by the way the bright floral pattern sways and twists with each step you take. The hem brushes the brown skin of your knees and while he can’t see much, Nanami knows the soft curves hidden underneath the airy fabric intimately.

While the caveman part of him can understand the underlying meaning of sundress season, it’s everything else that flares his want for you. It’s the wild curls that brush your cheeks and neck, the diamond earrings that reflect in the sun, the curl of your long lashes that kiss your lower lids when you blink. And yes—the gorgeous dress that you have on enhances everything about you—but in the most basic sense, you are beautiful.

“You’re staring.” It’s a playful accusation that you direct at him even though your eyes are admiring the tulips that you both walk past.

He quickly averts his eyes, sharp cheeks blazing a fiery red. “My apologies I…” Nanami clears his throat, struggling to regain his usual unruffled demeanor. “That dress looks lovely on you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, pausing so he can open the bakery door for you. “You think so? I just picked it up last week. Perfect for this heat, isn’t it?”

Nanami swallows hard at the teasing tilt to your tone, the innocent question feeling anything but. From the very first day he met you—that very first day you knocked back a glass of expensive whiskey and smiled at him as if it was nothing—he’s come to accept that you have no reservations of flustering him. You thrive on it, and for as stiff as Nanami is, you are a breath of fresh air that he never imagined would slide into his lungs. 

Umber eyes watch you walk ahead of him and into the welcoming AC of the bakery, tantalizing calves flexing with each step.

“Very much…” is all he can manage, hastily ripping his eyes away again as his equilibrium dangerously shifts.

You laugh lightly at his sudden silence, the warm, rich sound simultaneously soothing his thundering heart and making it trip up all over again. “You act like you’ve never seen me in a dress before.”

“You know that’s not true,” he mutters, switching his gaze to the menu to avoid your entirely too-innocent smile. “I simply…appreciate fine things.”

The rich ring of your answering chuckle sends molten desire licking traitorously down his spine. “Is that so? Then I’ll have to acquire more of these stunning ‘fine things’ for you to appreciate this summer…”

He should have known better than to egg you on. Had he kept his eyes to himself and brushed off your knowing glances, he could have enjoyed you without your playful watch. But for as smart as Nanami is, for as observant and vigilant in his work as he is in his life outside of it, he can never wrap his head around how devious you truly are.

One day, the weather calms down enough for lunch at the park. It’s the perfect day to eat outside. The sun is high in the sky but the canopy of trees gives you both the protection you need from harsh rays.

“Need any help setting up?” You call out, shrugging off the ice denim jacket from your shoulders to reveal this summer’s newest addition—an angelic white sundress adorned with delicate lace trim.

Nanami’s throat tightens and he shakes his head, unfurling a blue blanket onto the thick grass below you both. “I can do it, love. Please just relax.” 

He carefully arranges the picnic blanket, spreading the wrinkles free before you plop down on one side. As you dig into the large lunchbox, he admires the crisp white cotton that seems to skim over your frame, covering you but still unable to touch. Thin straps leave your shoulders bare, your skin glowing in the sun from your shimmery sunscreen. No necklace this time, so the square neckline dips just enough to offer a subtle hint of cleavage. The stretchy ribbed material hugs and accentuates every lush curve before gently flaring into an effortless, free-flowing skirt.

You purse your lips and furrow your brow in concentration, leaning more over the lunchbox, your back straightening to steady yourself before he watches free of shame as you arch just so.

When you turn to flash him that achingly fond smile, your curls falling over one shoulder, all traces of decency flee from Nanami’s mind. In that moment, he’s transported back to those dizzying early days of your relationship—entirely captivated, yet utterly terrified of somehow shattering this dazzling, undeserved connection between you.

“Thirsty?” You hold out one of the banana milk boxes that he’s grown to love since your presence, an impish quirk of your brow, clearly aware of his slow descent into hell.

Nanami nods jerkily and takes the milk box, unable to find his voice for a beat. As you settle down gracefully beside him, the skirt drifts up in a gentle billow, shaping to and showcasing skin. He has to tear his eyes away from the wicked flashes of toned thigh with extreme willpower.

Like the devil you are, you toss him a coy smirk, shiny lip gloss clear even though he knows it tastes like strawberry. “We gonna eat or are you just gonna gawk at me like a weirdo?”

He can’t help the scoff that leaves him as he pulls out sandwiches for you both. “I thought you liked when I gawk at you.”

“Not when I’m hungry.” 

He shakes his head, smirking softly as he removes the cling wrap before handing you your half, your fingers brushing against his. Warm pleasure blooms in his chest at the radiant sight you make contrasted against the swaying greenery. It’s as if you don’t belong but he couldn’t imagine you anywhere else. You take a generous bite of your sandwich, a smear of mustard in the crease of your lips as you offer him a gentle smile.

As the scorching summer rages, Nanami can’t help but chastise himself. A mundane and childish social meme has become the representation of the hardest test he’s ever taken. Maybe he should have asked for tips from Yuji on how to better prepare himself. 

He’s always prided himself on admiring from afar, on controlling his emotions in public and savoring them later in private. He knows your beauty and the unintentional way you drain the air around him. But he’s always been able to offer that soft smile, place a hand on your shoulder or your waist and offer a compliment to whatever you’ve chosen to wear for the day. But recently, in the face of your summertime wardrobe choices, Nanami finds that steely discipline faltering at an alarming rate.

Sinking deeper into the plush living room sofa, Nanami exhales a deep sigh and allows the tension thrumming through his shoulders to bleed away. Here, surrounded by the apartment’s climate-controlled sanctuary, he can savor these increasingly rare moments of solitary peace sprawled out with a good book. It’s a well-deserved shared day off for you both—free of schedules, obligations, or anything more strenuous than lounging around with each other. And more importantly, at home, you’re nothing but comfortable clothes and soft pajamas. 

He’s safe.

A wry smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he imagines the look of feigned innocence you always sport whenever he gets too overt about appreciating your seasonal attire. As if you don’t know the absolutely devastating effect even the simplest hair toss or twirl has on what’s left of his challenging self-restraint these days.

It’s going to be a great day. He’s almost done with this book, just three more chapters and then he can start another in his pile that he wants to tackle this summer. That’s right, Nanami Kento is going to—

The soft pad of your bare feet against the hardwood floors has Nanami glancing up instinctively from behind the novel’s pages. And just like that, the world around him completely whites out as if he’s been hit over the head with a brick.

You’ve emerged from the hallway in a yellow sundress so vibrantly captivating, so deliciously clingy and effortlessly suggestive that he nearly swallows his tongue in surprise. The rich gold hue kisses the deep tone of your skin, as if you’re a sunflower blooming under the artificial lighting of the apartment. The dress accentuates your shape in the most brazenly tantalizing way—the thin ruffle straps on your shoulders, the sweetheart neckline hinting at full cleavage, the dress’ light hem hitting indecently high on your thighs in playful flirty wisps.

But it’s the stretchy knit fabric’s complete inability to disguise any curve or meaty swell that really has Nanami sitting up straighter on the cushions. It’s not layered well enough—almost transparent—and the snug material leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, from the outline of bright panties that cover the soft spread of your hips to the pert dusky points outlined beneath the bodice. 

Absolutely devastating and on full, confident display and this isn’t fair because he has three chapters left.

He barely registers the “What are you reading?” you offer him over one shoulder as you stroll towards the kitchen area in that swaying, uninhibited saunter that never fails to ignite his senses. Nanami simply sits there transfixed—one hand gripping the spine of his book while the other claws restlessly against his own inner thigh. Each roll of your hips has that thin dress swishing and lifting in tiny torturous glimpses that have his imagination veering wildly into unrestrained territory. But he’s at home, that’s okay right?

That’s when you shift your weight onto the tips of your toes, your back turned to him, stretching up towards the top cabinets with one hand braced against the counter…and the entire world seems to judder to a halt all over again. Because from this new vantage point, Nanami can’t tear his eyes away from the call of your legs, the dimples on the backs of your thighs, up, up to the hem and—

A guttural sound wrenches free from low in his diaphragm, a mix of a groan and a growled curse. He looks back down to his book, searching aimlessly for where he left off, flickering back over to you just as quick.

He should look away, tear his eyes off of the gloriously indecent picture you’ve unwittingly created simply by existing. And yet…Nanami finds his stare burning an increasingly blazing trail down the bewitching ‘V’ between your shoulder blades, past the delicious dip of your arched lower back to the toned flare of your thighs and calves below.

At one point, you bend even deeper at the waist, hips tilting up as you struggle to reach a particularly elusive item on the high shelf. The filmy yellow skirt jumps and flirts up with the motion, granting Nanami a shameless eyeful of toned thighs and the flash of his favorite pair of panties—lilac with lace along the edges that squeeze the skin of your ass in the most inviting way. He very nearly drops the book from his suddenly slack fingers at the sight, hissing out a low curse between his teeth.

You huff out an adorable sound of frustration as you fail to reach whatever item you’re going for, and he knows he should step in to assist like the gentleman he is. But his stare remains rooted to spot, ogling and committing it all to memory so he can think about it later—alone.

“Let me get that,” he finally manages to scrape out, voice gone low and gritty with naked yearning despite his best efforts at nonchalance. 

You shoot him one of those bright, beaming smiles over your shoulder in response—blissfully unaware of the effect your glowing, ethereal beauty has on him even without your intentional teasing. “Just grabbing the flour for dinner,” you explain sheepishly, leaning into his broad form as he comes up behind you and grabs the ingredient on the top shelf. “I always have trouble reaching.”

And isn’t that just symbolic as all hell? His curvy, tempting beloved constantly hovering just beyond his reach these past few weeks—unattainable without discarding every last vestige of control he has. It isn’t like you both don’t have sex. You do…often. There’s just always been a build up, never anything explosive.

Even in the privacy of your home, he’s never thrown caution to the wind. Nanami has always been one to savor every calculated build of pleasure in its precious sequence. You’ve expressed your satisfaction readily enough, reciprocating his passion with that same rapturous abandon you bring to all aspects of life. But in all the years of his tiring, overworked life, you are the first to show him what it feels like to never walk a predetermined line.

“This is…I’ve never seen you wear it inside,” Nanami manages, his throat feeling increasingly dry as his eyes trace the line of fabric on your shoulders.

You take the flour from him, shooting him a sly, knowing look from beneath your lashes as you turn to face him fully. “It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think?”

He can’t stop the reflexive glance that rakes over every inch of you. “It’s sixty-eight degrees.”

You lean in a fractional amount—just enough for the swell of your breasts to brush against his shirt as you crane up towards his face. “Well, I run hot,” you murmur, voice dropping into the pits of hell, a throaty register that bypasses Nanami’s higher cognitive functions entirely. 

He’s beyond undone. Frozen in place with desperate, rapturous hunger raging through his very marrow. This close, he can make out the small raised moles on your exposed shoulders, the genetic blemishes that are common for your skin tone. He gets a better view of the rigid peaks of your nipples straining against the thin fabric, practically begging for the heated and dripping touch of his mouth that he’s always more than happy to bestow upon you. 

His fingertips clench and relax at his sides, held back only by tremendous reserves of willpower from reaching out to map and relearn every soft, silken plane of feminine heat and temptation currently being dangled in front of him like a prize he still can’t win.

You take in the undisguised wanting and torment written large across his features with a look of utter satisfaction. Then, before he can formulate some slurred plea for relief, you spin on one heel and saunter out of his reach—hips undulating hypnotically beneath that flimsy gauze of material in an alluring farewell.

Only once you finally disappear around the corner does Nanami manage to sag forwards—palms braced on the counter as he attempts to draw steady lungfuls of air back into his oxygen-starved body.

By the time he plops back on the sofa, and opens the spine of his book, the desire to read is gone.

You take pity on him for a few weeks after that searing afternoon in the kitchen. Your outside adventures are marked by breathable athletic leggings paired with loose tank tops that drape and show you off…but in a far tamer, less flagrantly teasing way than before.

Even at home, the soft cotton shorts and tees you lounge around in provide Nanami some solace—the casual fabrics leaving just enough to the imagination rather than putting every mouth-watering curve on display.

Your usual playful flirtations also seem to be dialed back during this oasis period. As if you’re allowing the poor man a chance to realign his senses and regain some semblance of control. It allows him time to resettle back into some of his usual regimented routines. Without you on a mission at the periphery of his awareness constantly, stoking those primal fires, he finds himself able to slip back into the role of polished, tired professional and attentive partner with relative ease.

Perhaps a bit too easily, if he’s being honest with himself. Because before he can even register the transition, that fleeting grace period seems to dissolve back into the heady summer ether as quickly as it had begun.

The warm evening air smells of charcoal and citronella as Nanami moves through the crowd, trying yet failing to focus on anything but you. All around him, friends and coworkers intermingle while indulging in ice-cold drinks and delicious food fresh off the smoker. He loves food, especially Yuki's cooking when she hosts a barbecue.

But none of it registers tonight.

Because every sensory nerve-ending in his body is completely captivated and overwhelmed by the vision you make in that deep red sundress.

The rich crimson chiffon swirls and caresses over your body in sinuous waves of delicious color. You’re bathed in red, as if rose petals have unfurled and stitched themselves together to form the beautiful dress on your body. It’s a maxi dress that sweeps down to your ankles and kisses the straps of your block heels. Scorching flashes of full thighs are visible through the flowing slits on each side. The deep v-neck dips in a daring drop that leaves your sternum and the inner sides of your breasts achingly exposed. 

Each step you take has the delicate material clinging and drifting in the most hypnotic dance around your heavenly form. Nanami tracks the rhythmic sway of your hips with a burning stare, his control splintering a little more with every toss of your head that allows the deep brown of your skin to wink at him from the column of your neck.

Yuki is already three wine coolers in—not a lot for most, but more than enough for her to throw decorum to the wind. From across the backyard, Choso watches with an indulgent smile as his partner bobs off-beat to the soft music flowing from the speakers.

Choso's expression of pure adoration mirrors the way Nanami looks at you when he thinks no one else is watching. They share that unspoken understanding, that bone-deep contentment of being completely enraptured by the women they love.

At one point, the music shifts, more alcohol disappears, and Yuki is hauling you to the makeshift dance floor of the backyard. Nanami tries, he really, really does. But everything about you makes him stand at attention. Breathing, walking, laughing, smiling at nothing, and now—with just one rock of your hips to the music—his eyes are locked in.

You’ve never been a good dancer. But you’ve also never cared of the expectation to be a good one either. And Yuki is an extroverted pull that makes you sway more, that makes your shoulders roll and laughter to bubble from your lips as you watch your friend make a fool of herself. 

Nanami runs a hand through his thick blonde locks, disrupting the careful part he made before you both left the apartment earlier in the evening. The other hand clutches a glass of scotch a little tighter, the condensation sliding against his fingers before he takes a generous swig, his eyes not once leaving you. 

You can feel him before you even look over, and when you do lock with Nanami’s deep brown gaze from across the yard, you throw him a soft look from beneath your lashes as you slowly roll your hips. It’s the same motion of your hips that he got to feel last night with you straddling him, panting against his lips in the middle of the night.

Outwardly sensual in only a way he can recognize amongst everyone around him. But it’s your rapturous, carefree expression of pure bliss that simultaneously enchants and undoes the last tattered remains of his composure. With every movement, you embody the very essence of feminine energy—raw, joyful, and utterly free. You are a vision of untamed beauty, a wild goddess of the summer night come to life in a swirling dreamscape of rich ruby chiffon. 

The erotic, carnal urge to chase after your swaying, taunting form and haul you away to some shadowed corner where he can divest you of that sinful dress is overwhelming. Swallowing hard, Nanami averts his burning stare for fear of literally combusting on the spot.

“You alright there, buddy?” Yu's familiar voice cuts through the lusty fog, tinged with the warm charm of a couple beers down. “You look like you’re about to swallow your tongue or something.”

“I…excuse me,” is all Nanami can grate out, the remark feeling like fragments of glass as he speaks. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply stalking off through the open patio door and into the thankfully dim and cool interior of Yuki and Choso's home. Anything to escape your enticing presence for even a single moment.

The music and laughter from outside feels muffled as he sinks down onto the living room sofa in the shadows—rubbing distractedly at his thundering chest. But it does nothing to get rid of the vision of you dancing so wantonly and on unrestrained display in that gorgeous ruby sundress. 

Where are you even getting them? Online? Or is there a store that he doesn’t know about? He hasn’t seen other women in the city wearing dresses like you do. But then again…Nanami doesn’t really pay attention unless it’s you. 

His fingers grip the plush armrest of the sofa until the knuckles strain white, breath sawing harsh and ragged from his heaving lungs. Nanami squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to visualize anything other than the way that lightweight crimson had drifted and kissed over your thighs that peeked between side slits, the growing sheen of sweat between the generous canvas of your chest, the exposed slope of your neck free of curls—a spot of concealer on the side to hide the mark he gave you last night.

A harsh exhale escapes him as he forces his eyes open, only to instantly regret it. The muted sounds of the party filter in from outside—sweet laughter, the low thrum of bass, the periodic high-pitched squeal of your voice crying out at Yuki to get a hold of herself.

Nanami’s stomach clenches raggedly at that sound, arousal stroking down his spine in sweltering waves. Through the clear glass of the patio door, he can see the way your face lights up in pure rapturous joy as you give in to yourself. The subtle shifts and gyrations of your body in time with the beat, each swivel of your hips like a siren’s call. 

Against his volition, imagination melds into memory, replaying the countless times he’s buried his face between your thighs and simply drank in the celestial sounds of your pleasure until his name was a breathless gasp on your lips. That shrieking cry at Yuki almost the same towards him when he licks at your sensitive nerves one too many times. He forces his gaze away, leans his head back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling.

The music fluctuates once more, that instantly recognizable intro to the next funky summer hit you adore cuing up. Despite the walls between you, Nanami can still acutely pick up the subtle cadence of your movements in time with that danceable rhythm. He knows the exact choreography of hips and legs that song inspires in you…and his slacks suddenly feel far too confining.

That’s when your voice cuts through the relative quiet like a bolt of lightning, somehow even closer now as you call out—half-playful chiding, half siren’s promise.

“Oh Kentooo…” The singsong inflection has his eyes squeezing shut even as his cock shamefully twitches against it’s restrictive fabric prison. “Where has my favorite salaryman gone off to hide? You know I can’t dance without my partner watching me.”

Gritting his teeth against the dark, full-bodied groan that tries to escape, Nanami hunches forward until his elbows are digging into his thighs. There you stand framed in the patio door, backlit in a devastating silhouette by the lantern lights emanating through the loud yard behind you.

You walk closer in that torturous dress, the double layers trailing languidly behind in currents of fabric that have his throat struggling to swallow. Your stunning frame is practically dripping in sensual confidence and self-assured power. He knows the power you have over him and would sooner swallow his favorite tie than give that up.

The rich carmine floats around you in sinuous waves as you sashay closer to where Nanami sits transfixed on the sofa. And with each step, all manners and decorum that have been taught to him fizzle away with the increasing ache in his jeans.

“Like what you see?” you murmur huskily once you’ve prowled to stand between his legs, allowing Nanami an unfettered view of your neckline, the long gold necklace between your breasts winking at him with each shallow intake of breath. You lift one leg to press a knee onto his powerful thigh—close enough for your perfume to slide down his nostrils and cloud his mind. The slit over your bent knee flutters open in an obscene gap, granting his hooded gaze a glimpse of skin his teeth ache to bite into.

“I asked,” you breathe out in a seductive timbre, near enough for Nanami to actually taste the addictive warmth of your presence on his tongue. “If you like what you see…”

The inhale that rattles through his powerful frame is involuntary. So is the compulsive way his fingertips suddenly flex against the cushion with the overwhelming urge to finally reacquaint himself with the soft temptation of your skin. Others be damned, mannerisms of being a respectful guest falling to the wayside.

Somewhere through the rapidly thickening haze of pure liquid arousal, Nanami manages a jerky nod—unable to summon even the most basic of syllables in response. He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing convulsively as you arch one delicious eyebrow in a silent challenge. With your beautiful curls pulled up into a high ponytail, he can see the slope of your ears that are adorned with the gold hoops he bought you last month.

Then, before he can gather enough of his scattered wits to chastise you for your behavior, you’re boldly reaching out and capturing one of his clenching fists in a firm grip. A soft grunt rattles up from deep in Nanami’s chest at the heated feel of your palm finally making purchase on his overheated skin.

But his breath hitches in a harsh inhale as you purposefully guide his splayed fingers towards your exposed leg—sliding his hand up excruciatingly slow to caress along the landscape of textures and planes laid out in offering. He expects the generous hem of panties he’s seen time and time again. He knows what they look like in his mind when he teases the edges before slipping inside to graze his fingers along your aching clit. But the calloused pads of his fingertips brush the thin string of a thong instead. And it’s just a single touch that has him wide-eyed, reeling—the edges of his vision dizzying into a hazy fog of aching, inexplicable need. 

You should have come with a manual. Surely there’s a guide to get through the summer months with you? Some sort of text to explain the steps he needs to take to keep himself in control in public?

The rapturous throb of your saphenous vein leaps against his fingertips as you allow him to slant just a hairsbreadth further—close enough to feel the heat of the place he’s been countless times before—close enough to slide a thick finger along fabric he knows is wet.

Only for you to tear your hand away and drop your knee as the sound of Yuki's voice pierces the heavy sensual tension hanging between your bodies.

“There you are!” She calls out cheerfully from the sliding glass door. “My song is on, come dance with me!”

There’s a gentle tuft of laughter from you then—one tinged with dark satisfaction as you drink in the wrecked, wanton expression flaming across Nanami’s features. As if thoroughly enjoying reducing him to this strung-out state of desperation. You could rule the world if given the right resources.

“Yuki, let’s get you some water. You’ve had a little too much to drink…” your voice trails off as you disappear in a rustle of vermilion and sashaying hips with one last loaded look over your bare shoulder. 

He manages a shuddering breath that feels more like sandpaper sliding down his abused lungs. The delicious scent of your perfume still clings to the charged air around him, the phantom-like caress of your dress along his knuckles, the sound of your throaty laugh disappearing back to the party outside. Each ragged exhale has his body subtly canting forward, giving silent chase to your retreating form as if by muscle memory alone. 

This game…this deliciously maddening game you delight in playing has Nanami’s entire being teetering on the razor-thin edge of unraveling completely. Each new summer ensemble seems specifically designed to further tempt and destroy the decades of discipline he’s meticulously cultivated since he was a teenager.

Nanami would think after a relationship or two, he would have steeled himself against falling victim to seduction. And yet, not a single woman from his past could have prepared Nanami for the devastating combination of your radiant beauty and barely-restrained hedonism.

Your laughter calls out to him again, his eyes snapping up to see you smiling as Yuki chugs the glass of water Choso has pressed to her lips. Completely innocent and free of devilish qualities, the fact that Nanami knows that dark side of you makes him fold his arms across his chest, sagging against the sofa and glaring at your form as he wills his erection to go down.

It’s two days before summer’s end when Nanami feels the steadily fraying threads of his self-control finally unravel into oblivion. He’s tried every possible tactic these last few months to stave off the relentless fire of desire you’ve been stoking within him—going for runs, ice cold showers, avoiding you when possible. He’s even resorted to having you model your newest sundress purchases at home in a desperate attempt at desensitizing himself. It all seems incredibly dramatic, but Nanami has no idea what else to do. Nothing has worked against the intoxicating mix of your lively beauty and increasingly bold choices designed to torment him until he’s six feet under.

He had known from the moment he accidentally stumbled upon that fateful periwinkle dress sitting in your laptop’s shopping cart that it would be his undoing. He can still picture with perfect clarity the way the model seemed to shimmer and dance on the screen as he clicked through the product imagery—he pictured it with heart throbbing clarity how it would look on you.

And he still has so many more years left of his life to enjoy.

Without conscious thought, Nanami had swiftly removed the item from the cart—an invasion of privacy that left him nauseous, but a necessary decision if only to spare himself. 

He was stupid to think it would actually work.

So it comes as little surprise to see you boldly flaunting that silken number tonight at the rooftop gala marking his company’s most prosperous quarter yet. The twinkling strings of lantern bulbs and hot summer breezes swirling all around you only heighten the flagging warning that this night won’t end the way he wants. 

As you glide about the rooftop, the pale periwinkle seems to float effortlessly around your body. Like every dress before, this one is no exception, complimenting the deepness of your skin. The whisper-weight fabric lays against your hips and waist, simultaneously shaping and gracefully draping in all the right places.

The thin straps crisscross behind your neck, framing your graceful shoulders and collarbones. As you turn, the silk lifts and drifts around you in a mesmerizing swirl of decadence. It’s another plunging V-neckline, but this dress sits on your body and decolletage with an air of romantic grace. It’s not scandalous like that night at Yuki and Choso's. 

But it’s the back—oh it’s the back that makes his gaze heavy, that makes the organ in his chest beat out of rhythm with every inch he uncovers. Try as he might, it’s absolutely impossible for him to look away from the delicate contours and valleys of your body put on full and enthralling display by this backless dress. From the elegant lines of your throat and shoulders left teasingly bare to the soft inward curve of your arched lower back—the dress is a cruel temptation showcasing every salivating inch of you that he’s spent countless nights worshiping.

It’s beautiful on you, truly and unimaginably beautiful, and it’s a terrible twist of fate that such a simple observation is destroying Nanami from the inside. All that discipline—the cold showers, the extra miles added to his runs, the attempts of desensitization—it’s useless. No matter how hard he tries, he will always notice something new each time he looks at you. And it will always wreck him and throw him off axis whether he likes it or not.

Because amidst all the warmth and sociability of this rooftop celebration, all Nanami’s rapidly sharpening focus can zero in on is the subtle glisten of perspiration trailing down the slope of your spine. Every imperceptible turn and cock of your hip amplified tenfold by the silk that gets to touch you while he watches. As if personally daring him to finally surrender every last shred of patience and simply take what he wants.

A soft chuckle escapes your full lips as Nanami’s boss leans in closer, undoubtedly regaling you with some far from amusing anecdote from the office. The charming sound has every thread of Nanami’s control taut like a bowstring. Because that sound means a lot for him nowadays—laughing at his dry humor, the movies you both watch together, the giggling stuttering into whimpers and moans of ecstasy when your back arches from his tongue.

Suddenly, the light summer breeze kicks up in and swirls around you, waving the hem of your dress and the two-day old twistout on your head. Instinctively, you reach up to tuck a lock of those dark silken twists behind one ear.

Time itself seems to slow as he watches those inky tendrils ghost across your bare shoulders and the exposed skin of your upper back. Nanami watches with visceral hunger as those wild strands make playful, meandering paths across the smoothly toned expanse of brown skin. His entire body instantaneously flushes with hot need and arousal at the simple, harmless image. The soft rise of your breasts shake as you offer a fake laugh to whatever drivel your boss has just said. And in that split second—the culmination of tonight, this dress, the entire summer of taunting and coy smiles— Nanami’s restraint finally shatters into so many useless slivers at his feet.

Before conscious thought can override anything else, he’s stalking across the rooftop with rigid, predatory intensity—adjusting the unique glasses on his nose, his mouth set in a grim line of single-minded focus. The gaggle of chattering coworkers and small-talk banter all fade away into muted static and white noise. All that exists in this heated vortex of Nanami’s rapidly narrowing universe is the coiling pull of you.

“Ah, Nanami!” His boss greets heartily, clearly surprised yet pleased to see the company’s best worker at last. “Your partner and I were just discussing a better way to spruce up the quarterly party for next year. Care to weigh in, my friend?”

The question lands on deaf ears. Because at the exact same instant his professional mentor is extending that olive branch of attempted small talk…your eyes are on his, a knowing, small smile pressed to the hem of your champagne glass as you take a sip. The sight of your jewelry, the fabric against your skin, the way you look at him…the desire that rips through his body is staggering.

“I apologize for interrupting, but I need to speak with you,” he grates out in a tone heavy with gravel and masculine focus. His palm finds the smoldering heat of your lower back without conscious thought, marking delirious patterns of desire against your naked skin. Your eyebrows furrow with a silent question at the rough timbre of his command…even though you see that undisguised storm of hunger and frustrated desire raging behind his tinted glasses.

“Of course,” you finally murmur and turn to his coworkers to wish them goodbye, setting down your glass on the table beside you.

He’s burning, raging with a fever that doesn’t even exist and each shallow inhale draws more of your achingly familiar perfume into his senses—only making things worse.

He guides you through the crowded rooftop party and towards the elevators with a molten intensity bordering on feral. Nanami’s palm maps possessive into the searing expanse of your back. Every step jostles his arm flush against the silk on your frame.

“Where exactly are we going in such a hurry?”

The rich, seductive rasp of your voice is designed to torture him further, but Nanami doesn’t rise to it, simply presses fingers more firm to your back, his other punches the elevator button with purpose.

“I said I need to speak with you,” he finally bites out. “That should be more than enough.”

You lean further into his touch and look up at him, your tongue darts out to toy with your plush bottom lip in a show of faux innocence.

“Is that so?” The melodic lilt coupled with the ghost of your warm breath fanning across Nanami’s jaw would have been enough to make a lesser man’s knees buckle entirely. Instead, it simply ratchets the tension coiling through his powerful frame into a downright maddening degree.

The soft chime of the arriving elevator makes you both turn in tandem, the mirror of the elevator doors casting your reflections—allowing Nanami to drink in the smoldering fire already blazing behind your heavy-lidded stare. There’s profound hunger glimmering there that matches his own. An unadulterated wildness reined in by the thinnest veneer of coy indifference. You’ve always been slick—but not tonight.

The mirrored doors slide open with a hushed mechanical shush, you both step inside, and the doors slide closed. 

Nanami offers a silent apology for the violation of manners his parents instilled in him before he backs you into the far wall—the breath punching out of your lungs as your back makes shocking contact with the mirrored paneling. Now it’s you breathless, struggling to compose yourself as the masculine power of Nanami consumes you.

A subtle shudder ripples through Nanami’s abdomen as you wantonly tilt your head back, arching your throat in wordless invitation just as your fingertips rise to trail heated lines over his heaving chest. The lapels are black as midnight, the undershirt a crisp white, and he’s the handsome man that’s all yours even as he fights between what’s right and what he wants. One of his palms is cupping the slope of your jawline as the other maps out the silk of your dress. He bends slowly until the heat of his mouth is tracing the full curve of your parted lips—a heavy brush of sculpted male confidence against your teasing softness. 

“You’ve pressed against my boundaries to a criminal degree, love,” Nanami warns in a dark rasp scorched with the first cinders of the firestorm yet to come. His palm slides up the bare inward curve of your back until his fingers are tunneling through the wild riot of your twistout at the nape of your neck. Tinted eyes slit in satisfaction as your head tips back farther on a shaky inhale—granting him access to the deliciously vulnerable length of your throat.

“Nothing to say?” he husks out in the open, admiring the flutter of your lashes as his voice hits you. Nanami’s mouth brands a hot trail from the sensitive juncture of your jaw up towards the shell of your ear. You whimper softly at the slow, torturous build—the same sound of rapture he has memorized and pulled from you countless times between the sheets. It’s enough to strip away any lingering reservations entirely. 

With the strength he’s never ashamed to show you, hands slide under your thighs and he yanks you up. Your legs wrap around him on instinct, your arms winding around his neck, your head tilting back again to smack on the mirrored glass. 

His tongue glides along the buttery curve of your throat, tasting the familiar tang of salt and vanilla on the tip and the smell of him, of pure Nanami clouds your mind enough to finally look down at him, your noses a hairsbreadth from each other. It’s a silent standoff, your eyes as teasing as they are filled with arousal, his eyes dark with something that makes you shiver against him. 

And then he’s kissing you, deep and hungry, his hands roaming the bare expanse of your back, dipping lower, pulling you closer. You melt into Nanami’s kiss, your initial surprise giving way to a matching hunger. Your hands slip under his suit jacket, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. He groans against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, igniting your nerves, thrumming in your veins.

You don’t even hear the elevator doors open but you feel him walking, lips hot and demanding groaning into you as you slide your fingers into his golden locks and pull. Nanami knows these floors like the back of his hand, and he’s familiar with the abandoned break room on the thirtieth floor, his hand yanking the door open and shutting it hard, lips never leaving yours. 

You gasp into his mouth when your ass lands on the old buttons of a copier, the machine groaning under your weight, the plastic buttons beeping in protest. As Nanami presses you against the copier, he can’t help but marvel at the feel of you beneath his hands. The dress, this damn dress, is like water under his fingers, smooth and cool and entirely too thin. He can feel every curve, every contour, every shuddering breath you take. 

He punctuates his actions with a roll of his hips, pressing his hardness that strains against his slacks against your core. You moan, your head falling back, and he takes advantage of your exposed neck, his lips and teeth worrying the sensitive skin, his tongue licking the marks he leaves.

“How many more dresses do you have?” he growls against your throat, his voice rough with need. “How many more ways are you going to torture me?”

You gasp as his teeth graze your pulse point, your fingers threading into his hair. “T-that depends,” you manage, your voice breathy. Nanami’s chuckle is dark, dangerous, his hands trailing higher, dipping into the seam of your panties, his fingers brushing over your clit. He savors the way your jerk against him, a whimper leaving your throat as you pant into the dusty air.

“Is this what you wanted? To reduce me to this? A man so desperate for you he’d take you in a public place?”

“Yes,” you hiss, arching into his touch, your breasts pressing against the thin silk that covers them. “Yesyesyes...”

Nanami’s groan is part frustration, part desire. “You have no idea what you do to me.” There’s a hint of wonder in his voice, a note of awe at the depth of his own need. His fingers press more insistently, circling, gathering your slick to make each stroke more messy and impactful, driving you towards the edge. The buttons of the copier dig into your skin, the machine whirring and beeping beneath you, adding to the crescendo of sensation. He can hear the mechanical shuffle of papers being chucked out from one end, slapping onto the floor.

“Do you like this?” Nanami pants, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you like teasing me, driving me crazy?”

“Yes,” you admit, free of shame, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, Kento.”

He slides two fingers into your wet heat, savoring your wanton gasp, increases the pressure, the speed of his fingers, pushing you closer to the precipice. “Have you done this before?” he asks, his voice raw with emotion. “Teased other men like this, made them want you so badly they’d forget themselves?”

“No,” you moan desperately, your head thrashing from side to side, deep locks brushing your cheeks. “Never. It’s only ever been you, Kento. Only you.”

“Say it again,” he demands, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

“Only you,” you pant. “I’m yours, Kento. Completely.”

It doesn’t take long—countless strokes inside of you, a curl of his fingers, a twist of his wrist, and you shatter. Your cry of pleasure mixes with the beeps and groans of the copier, your body shaking, your fingers digging harder into Nanami’s shoulders that he’s sure you’ve broken the barrier. 

He holds you through it, his lips on your skin, his murmured praises in your ear, soft litanies of words that has made you fall deeper in love with him each passing day. You don’t get a chance to come down fully because he’s on you again, pressing closer, pushing your panties to the side and digging his fingers into the meat of your hips. But the angle is wrong, you’re too high and the copier digs into his thighs and impedes him from getting to you the way he wants.

With a grunt of frustration, Nanami lifts you off the machine. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to the conference table. He sweeps aside the accumulated debris with one arm, sending sugar and tea packets scattering to the floor. Your back hits the table, the hard surface unyielding beneath you. Plastic cups crunches and snaps under your weight, sugar and coffee creamer powder puffing into the air, settling on your heated skin.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, soaking in the radiance you beam up at him, “how many times I’ve imagined this? Pulling you away from everyone, getting my hands on you…not being able to do it because I’m better than that.”

You moan as he nips at your collarbone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. “And yet here you are,” you tease, breathless with twinkling eyes that shine right through him.

He captures your lips again, the kiss deep and demanding. You arch into him, your hands throwing off his glasses—they smack against a wall—your fingers deftly undoing his tie, working on the buttons of his shirt. You need to feel his skin against yours, need to be closer, and he shudders at the feel of your warm hands breaching the open buttons, sliding up his bare chest.

As if reading your mind, Nanami reaches for the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down. The fabric parts, baring more of your skin to his heated gaze. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes roaming your body like a physical caress.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then his hands are on you, tracing your curves, fingers brushing your nipples before he gives them a pinch. A whimper shakes from you, your fingers pressing into his bare chest.

Dimly, he’s aware that he should stop this, that he’s in a public place, at a work event. But the heat of your body, the insistence of your touch, the mounting pleasure coursing through his veins—it all conspires to drown out reason.

Your hands fumble with his belt, your fingers shaking with need. He helps you, impatiently pushing his pants and boxers down just enough. And then he’s touching you, his fingers digging into your hips, sliding you closer to him until the tip of him presses to the sopping wet heat of your center, wet from your orgasm and still ready.

“Please,” you whimper, hardly recognizing your own voice. “Please, Kento…”pushing your dress further up your hips, trailing over your ribs, cupping your breasts until the skin spills between the gaps. His eyes widen at the sight, the base of his spine heating up. So many times he’s seen you like this in the privacy of your home, and now it’s in an old break room at his workplace, the consequence of you finally taking things too far.

He’s free of any feral energy as he kisses you, sliding into your welcoming heat slowly to acquaint himself again. Your fingers dig into his skin, your chest pressing into him as you adjust, the table creaking under your joined weight as you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your silver heels into his back. Soon he’s moving above you, within you, each thrust pushing you higher, each thrust fanning the fire within himself.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, begging again for the unspoken demand of more. And even though the roles are reversed right now—you the one being teased—he gives you whatever you ask.

He sets a pace that’s just shy of punishing, each snap of his hips brushing his zipper against the inside of your thighs. The room fills with the sounds of sex—the slap of skin on skin, your gasps and moans, his grunts into the air. He cannot believe he’s in this moment, doing something so scandalous.

“You reduce me to this,” he pants against your lips. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” you gasp, your hands pulling at open lapels of his shirt, squeezing around the buttons, the fabric groaning. “I’m sorry.”

But you’re not, he can tell. There’s a hint of satisfaction in your voice, a touch of pride. And why shouldn’t there be? You’ve brought him, the ever-controlled Nanami Kento, to his knees. He loves you too much to ever want anything different.

“I’m a good man,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, curving his next thrust that he knows will brush against that spot you like.

“You’re an amazing man, Ken,” you moan in surprise, your hips lifting to meet his to seek more. “The best. Only the best for me. Only you, Kento.”

The praise makes him shake, the fire in his body raging like an inferno, burning his skin, breaking him into a sweat. He presses a knee into the table, throws one of your legs over his shoulders and savors the ragged way your name leaves his lips as he gives you everything.

“You feel so good,” he pants, his tongue licking the skin of your neck. He tastes the saltiness of your sweat, the sanitizing taste of perfume, the powdered creamer and sugar that sticks to your skin from the table. “So perfect.”

“Come on, Kento” you keen, your nails raking down the suit on his back. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He’s lost in you, in the feel of you, in the knowledge that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. Wanton, needy, completely undone.

Nothing else matters—not the party going on just floors above, not the risk of discovery, not the propriety you’re both abandoning. In this moment, there’s only you and him and the heat that’s consumed you both all summer, finally finding release.

Nanami’s thrusts become erratic, his rhythm faltering as the base of his spine tightens in a delicious way to let him know that he’s close. His hand slips between your bodies, past the silk of your rumpled periwinkle dress, gliding over your clit in well-practiced strokes and the leg over his shoulder tenses up, your head digging into the table, neck arching for him to see the flecks of sugar sticking to your neck. 

“Ohhh right there Kento. Right there. Please, please I’m gonna cum—I’m—“ you smack a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, eyes shutting tight.

“Absolutely not.” Nanami hasn’t suffered for months just to be deprived of anything during this encounter. He yanks the hand from your mouth, pressing it hard into the table, and the shock on your face as you look up at him, the staccato of your breaths, the undeniable seriousness in his gaze even as he pistons into you, admiring the way your dress pools at your waist as he gives you more, harder, deeper until—

“Ohhhh fuck!” you cum with a long dragged out cry, your body clenching around him, walls locking around his cock to the point his orgasm is yanked from him as he falls over the edge with you, pulsing deep inside with a groan muffled against your neck.

He sags against you, both of your chests heaving against each other. He slips a hand behind you, trailing lightly up and down your glistening back as you lie beneath him, spent and satisfied.

As he slowly comes down, he presses a lingering kiss to your sweat-dampened hairline, the roots of your twistout beginning to frizz. There’s a hint of coconut from your leave-in as his nose brushes down to your cheek. So familiar, yet still so intoxicating after almost a year of smelling it. As if he could ever grow numb to the potent lure of your presence.

A ragged chuckle escapes him at that thought, the mirthful rumble making you pull up your head to look at him. Nanami drinks in the utterly debauched vision you make—beautiful brown sweaty skin, hair messy, lips swollen and smirking as per usual.

His arm tightens reflexively around the sensual curves of your waist, pulling you closer in a subconscious gesture of possession and longing. Because for all the delicious torture you’ve inflicted over the past few months with your endless parade of tempting summer dresses…he wouldn’t trade this hard-won moment for anything.

Nanami is many things—disciplined, regimented, a hardworking—albeit tired— professional. But he is also only human at his core. And you, his beautiful free-spirit of a partner, has a simply breathtaking talent for awaking the primal, unrestrained parts of him he usually keeps so rigorously leashed.

“You know,” you murmur in that velvety voice he loves so much. “The minute I realized the dress vanished from my cart was the minute I knew it would be the one.”

A sleepy chuckle breaks free from his lips at your words, the sound causing you to join in as well—a vibrant melody that coats his soul in pure contentment. Nosing closer, he peppers a line of feather light kisses along the line of your jaw. “You’ll never go easy on me, will you?”

“And rob myself of bringing down Nanami Kento piece by piece?” You snort, shooting him a look of pure, playful sin from beneath your lashes. “I might have to make sundress season a year-round thing.”

His answering groan is part growl, part disbelieving laughter as the palm behind your back glides along the elegant curve of your spine down to the bend of your hip. Ever the devilish temptress without even trying, even in the aftermath.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“That’s a good way to go,” you tease, pulling him down for another kiss, sweet and sticky and full of promise.

His hands slide along the canvas of your body, fingers dipping into the ridges of the open zipper of your dress. He’ll make sure it’s dry cleaned so you can wear it next year. And hopefully he’ll be better prepared.

When you giggle against his lips and dig your heels into his back, he realizes that there will be no amount of preparation when it comes to you.

Thanks for reading!

[kazumist]

WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies. 

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him? 

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again. 

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?” 

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well. 

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?” 

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.” 

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — — 

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides. 

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — — 

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now. 

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?” 

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?” 

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — — 

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.” 

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — — 

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay. 

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.” 

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side. 

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss. 

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — — 

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you. 

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him. 

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact. 

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips. 

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.” 

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back. 

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — — 

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour. 

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — — 

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — — 

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since. 

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold. 

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley. 

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

[solar-wing]

⚣ 5+1: TikTok Trends 🤳🏽

⚣🤳🏽 A/N → I kept seeing all these couple trends on TikTok and it made me think of how Jason would react to these very same trends with his boyfriend...so I wrote it. tee hee WARNINGS: established relationship | social media trends | relationship goals | fluff/comfort | jason's had enough |

⚣🤳🏽 Summary → Five times Y/N did a social media trend/prank on Jason and the one time the vigilante finally got his boyfriend back.

⚣🤳🏽 Words → 3.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🤳🏽

Social media is an interesting thing with a variety of uses. You could use it to connect with old friends from high school and college, remembering the good ole days. It could be a place to connect with other people in specific communities so individuals could find those they related to and shared similar views and interests with. More than ever, it could be used to spread activism and political messages.

For Y/N L/N, it was a place for him to display his loving and chaotic relationship with his boyfriend Jason Todd.

They both had very different relationships with social media.

Y/N was a whirlwind of hashtags and filters, a living embodiment of the digital age. His phone was an extension of his hand, scrolling through endless videos and GRWMs where they were always running late for whatever they were getting ready for.

The boy took his college studies seriously, but the thought never not crossed his mind that he could become a full-time content creator if he wanted to. Ask any of his friends or especially his boyfriend, the dude was a walking meme who kept hundreds to thousands of reaction pictures and videos on his phone which is something he successfully managed to get his boyfriend addicted to as well.

No seriously, it had gotten so bad that Bruce had to reach out to Y/N to see if he could get Jason to stop or at least delete the photos from his phone. Apparently, in their family group chat, his boyfriend had taken to sending some very targeted and specific images.

It was fine until Bruce said something about Jason being reckless or something and risking lives, and his boyfriend responded with some interesting images and a very petty caption.

Jason: this u?

It was safe to say Bruce was less than amused, though apparently everyone else found it hilarious. But, sadly Y/N had to inform the billionaire that he wouldn’t be able to get his boyfriend to stop even if he tried and that he was also a victim of this new ordeal.

Bruce was confused until Y/N showed him a picture Jason sent him after Y/N refused to come cuddle him because he was studying for a midterm.

Jason: get ur ass in here now or else...respectfully

This was the exact fun and chaotic energy Y/N wanted to share with the world on social media and TikTok. But, Jason had a different relationship with it than his boyfriend.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Jason was a firm believer in a simpler existence, preferring face-to-face conversations over likes and retweets. He possessed a refreshing aversion to the constant buzz of notifications and the pressure to document every meal or outing.

His only exception was Twitter, where he could voice his unhinged and questionable thoughts freely without raising suspicion or judgment because it was…well, it was Twitter. 

However, that did not stop Y/N from using his poor and innocent lover in his little TikTok exploits when he wanted to.

The first one was something innocent, at least in his eyes. He and Jason were in their shared apartment near Y/N’s campus. They were lying together on the couch, with Y/N parallel to the piece of furniture while Jason sat up properly with his boyfriend’s legs over him.

He was silently reading a book while Y/N pretended to scroll through social media, fidgeting now and then when Jason would accidentally tickle his feet while unconsciously rubbing his feet. Then, the sneaky little man would pull up an audio from TikTok of a man’s voice, talking as if they were on a Facetime call.

At first, Jason didn’t think anything of it when he heard the ring from his boyfriend’s phone and he knows that he frequently calls his parents or friends. Besides, Jason knows almost everyone that Y/N knows so it definitely wasn’t out of the ordinary.

So why the fuck did he not recognize that voice that was speaking on the other end of Y/N’s phone? More than ever, why was it male?!

The second he heard the random male voice ask his boyfriend why he was smiling like that, the phone was snatched out of his hand and Jason was prepared to threaten extreme bodily harm to whoever was on the other side of that phone.

So imagine his confusion when was looking back at himself.

When he noticed the recording button at the bottom, he looked toward his boyfriend who was trying his best to hold in his laughs and was doing a terrible job. Y/N made sure to snatch his phone back though so Jason couldn’t delete the footage.

Jason allowed it though despite his annoyance, seeing Y/N happy and laughing always trumped over any negative feelings he was experiencing. However, he did give his boyfriend a nice gentle lesson about what happens when he plays with the vigilante’s jealous side.

It ‘twas not gentle though, not one bit.

And Y/N was a little fucker who never learned his lesson. Proud of it too.

The second time wasn’t even a week later after he’d seen a new trend going around the clock app that he just knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Might be a little bit controversial but get ready with me while I give you my reasons on why cheating on your significant other is okay in certain scenarios.”

In under 5 seconds, the bathroom door shot open after the apartment sounded like a large predator had come running through it. Judging by the very unamused look Y/N was receiving, it may have been just that.

Y/N had to do his best not to laugh (or moan) at the image on his phone’s screen of a hulking, pissed-off Jason standing over him as he watched his skincare in silence. He knew his followers were going to get a kick out of this, probably detailing the filthiest things their horny little minds could cook up in his comment section like the little horny bastards they were.

Though, Y/N would be no better.

Jason still didn’t say anything, continuing to stare down at him like an angry parent who’d just been embarrassed in church by their child.

“Um, can I help you?” Y/N asked, desperately holding back the smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Jason’s dark hair fell over his forehead, his white streak hanging lazily between as his eyes narrowed down at his smaller boyfriend, his large, intimidating arms crossed over his chest. Y/N had to take a large breath to calm down the fluttering in his stomach.

Why did his boyfriend have to be so hot? The world was not fair.

When Jason continued to not say anything, just staring silently at his lover, Y/N decided to finish his skincare in silence while checking to make sure his video was still recording.

When about five minutes passed and neither of the boys said anything, the taller and larger male started to become slightly confused. Why wasn’t Y/N saying anything? He wasn’t crazy, knowing exactly what he heard until a lightbulb went over his head and he realized what was going on.

Once Y/N finished patting his face with sunscreen, he looked up to his boyfriend to see him with a now slightly less peeved expression and more of a smug, amused look.

“What?”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I think I’m quite hilarious actually.”

Jason didn’t say another word before turning on his heel, slowly walking out of the bathroom back towards the kitchen with that damn slutty walk of his. Seriously, why was the universe so unfair to Y/N? Then again, he definitely wasn’t complaining.

But, just because Jason realized what was going on didn’t mean he was going to just let the harmless prank go so easily. Y/N would be reminded once again how petty his boyfriend could be in the worst ways possible.

There really should be a hotline or emergency number for guys whose boyfriends decide to tease and edge them for over an hour. These crimes should not go unchecked!

Anyways…Y/N still didn’t learn his lesson. Third time’s a charm.

By this time, Jason had become well aware that Y/N would not stop using him in his little videos and pranks, so he figured if you can’t beat em, join em. He got his own TikTok account and only followed his boyfriend while also doing his best to keep up with whatever trends were going around, especially with couples so he could stay one step ahead.

This proved very useful, as when the ‘Water’ song by Tyla became a trend all over TikTok, Jason was more than aware of what his boyfriend was trying to do when he noticed from the corner of his eyes him recording him, pretending like he was just watching the videos.

Ah ah ah, gonna have to try harder than that, babe. Jason didn’t even budge like he was going to look, not like he would’ve either way.

But, he was NOT prepared to come home one day to find his boyfriend with his tripod set up, starting the countdown timer to record a video. The second the video started recording and Jason realized what song was playing, he didn’t waste a second before running and tackling Y/N out of the camera view before he could even hit the first beat.

He didn’t care if he fell for that one, those moves were for Jason’s eyes only. Something else the vigilante was going to have to remind his boyfriend about.

But, at least when Y/N looked at the footage, he realized he finally had something to post for that trend where people ran and tackled their significant others to that Barbie Girl remix. He’d always wanted to do that trend but hadn’t met Jason yet, so he was a bit too single to do it.

The fourth time was something also a little bit simple, less of a prank and more of Y/N just being a little shit that went looking for trouble.

When Jason was once again in the kitchen cooking, with his usual tank-top and jogger combo, Y/N thought it a perfect opportunity for him to get some revenge on his boyfriend since the gargantuan male always found it funny to slap Y/N on his butt hard as shit. Vengeance was needed.

So, when Jason wasn’t looking, Y/N walked into the kitchen positioning his phone in another spot so it could see the entire action, knowing if he tried to be sneaky, the vigilante would still catch on to him and turn around. He walked up behind him and gave his boyfriend a little hug as usual and a kiss on his back, something the towering male pretended not to be giddy at.

However, his sweet, tender moment was interrupted when he felt a medium-palm land on his ass with a precision aim, leaving a tingling sting behind.

“Payback!” Y/N decreed, already turning around and running for their shared room.

When he went back and looked at the footage later, he had to admit, the view of Jason turning around slowly as Y/N scurried away was very amusing. Especially considering he layered the video with the Wii Sports fencing music as his mammoth-sized man stalked after him like a predator cornering its prey.

His vengeance did not last long.

By this time, Jason had become somewhat of a regular presence on Y/N’s TikTok account, and all of his followers wanted more content with the two of them together.

So, after a long time coming, Y/N had managed to successfully convince Jason to do a video with him on camera. They decided to do the Alphabet challenge, something Y/N thought he’d have an easy win at.

He was not prepared for his boyfriend's extensive vocabulary. “Are you ready to start, honey?” Y/N started sneakily, thinking his boyfriend wouldn’t catch it.

“Bet you thought you were slick, huh?” Jason replied with his usual smug look.

“Can you be any less smug?” Y/N said with a playful eye roll.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

At that point, it was almost like they weren’t even doing a challenge, but rather doing their usual relationship banter back and forth that just happened to be getting recorded. The longer it went on, the more chaotic it became, both boyfriends pulling the absolute wildest sentences they could think of out of their mouths to throw the other ones off.

“Suck my ass.”

“Turn around”

He’d also underestimated Jason’s lack of shame and vulgarness.

“Explain how you get a body like that?”

“From fucking whiny little pretty boys like you.”

Oh.

Yeah, he should’ve thought this one through a little more.

They’d managed to go through the whole alphabet at least three times, going from bantering back and forth to Y/N reciting lines from movies he could both think of, to Jason reciting lines from some of his favorite books. The smaller man at some point figured he could start using lines from pop culture and trends to throw his colossal boyfriend off. However, he was absolutely not prepared for him to quote the Rachel voicemail, word for word, knowing how much that whole message always made him weak.

“This is for Rachel you big, fat, white, nasty-smelling fat BITCH.”

Why did he have to put so much emphasis on the ‘bitch’ part? He threw in the towel there and let Jason have it, swearing victory on their next face-off.

Now, Y/N didn’t think it would go any farther than that. He figured he would keep making videos pranking Jason and that now and then, the vigilante would begrudgingly join in.

Oh, he was wrooong…

Frankly, Y/N should have known Jason was playing a prank on him the second he called him by his actual name instead of one of his pet names. The vigilante always got upset at him when he used Jason’s actual name instead of babe, baby, Jaybirdie, love, or even just simple Jay.

So, when Jason was not only calling him by his name but refusing to touch and or kiss him at all. Y/N absolutely should have figured something was up.

When Jason got over his initial awkwardness of physical touch in their relationship, that meant became a touch-clingy animal. Whether a hug, hand holding, cuddling, or even simple finger grazes, he needed them all. And kissing, if Y/N ever even dared leave their bedroom, let alone their apartment without giving his giant teddy bear of a boyfriend a kiss, he basically committed the ultimate sin.

So, imagine his surprise when he wakes up and leans over to give his Jaybirdie his kiss, and the big lug rolls over to the other side of the bed before his lips can even get close. Never mind the fact that he woke up and Jason was not cuddling him, hugging, or even just touching him for the matter.

But, he figured Jason was just out of it, discombobulated after waking up or something, and needed a moment. Then, when he was getting ready for his classes and making breakfast, Jason came out and Y/N plated his food for him while grabbing some juice from the fridge.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

Immediate strike two.

Y/N immediately turned around to his lover who was slowly eating his food, rather than inhaling it like he usually does which is why Y/N always has to make extra because the man is still hungry after the first plate. He gave him a weird look and just shrugged it off like he was hearing things, continuing to fill up the glass of juice before handing it over to the vigilante.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

There it was again. Okay, so he wasn’t imagining shit.

And, now that he was thinking about it, Jason was acting really weird. He didn’t come in and hug from behind like he does when Y/N is cooking. He hasn’t made one lewd sexual joke all morning. Heck, he’s barely looked towards the smaller male since this morning.

“You’re welcome. Is everything okay?”

Finally, Jason looked up at him, but it was with a straight face instead of his usual small smile or even the smirk that he always seemed to carry.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, you just seem like you’re upset about something. Did I do something to make you mad?” Y/N asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and uncomfortable. He was not used to this behavior from Jason. It was almost like the beginning of their relationship when the vigilante wouldn’t be very guarded against him because he didn’t trust him yet. A feeling he was very happy to forget.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Are you okay?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just worried about you, I guess. You seem quiet.”

“I’m good, Y/N. You don’t need to worry about me.” Jason said, going back to scrolling on his phone while eating.

“Oh, okay,” Y/N said softly, looking down at the ground and feeling very out of place all of a sudden.

On the other end, he didn’t realize how much it was KILLING Jason on the inside to keep up this ruse. He was just about ready to fold and call it quits this morning when he turned over and avoided his boyfriend’s kiss.

Now, he felt absolutely disgusted and horrible at how hurt Y/N looked. He planned to wait it out until he got back from his classes, but he knew right at that moment he wasn’t going to be able to make it that long. He underestimated how much seeing his boyfriend upset would affect him.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna head to my class now. Text me if you want to meet up for lunch.”

“Okay,” Jason said, not saying anything else which he could see was visibly confusing Y/N even more.

He knew that Y/N didn’t like to push because of Jason’s boundaries, always rather giving him space than crowding him and trying to force him to tell him what was going on. It did nothing to help alleviate the guilt he was feeling.

When Y/N came over to try and give Jason a hug and goodbye kiss and Jason visibly moved away, the vigilante wanted to kill himself right at that moment at the wounded expression all over the boy’s face, who just moved to grab his bag, keys, and phone and damn near ran for the door. That was a clear strike three for the college student.

Absolute shit Jason felt like.

When he heard the front door open and slam, he immediately jumped up, grabbed his phone, and ran after his boyfriend who was booking it towards the stairs.

“Y/N, wait.”

When he made no moves to slow down, Jason had to pull out the vigilante moves to catch him since he was nearly out the complex door.

“Baby, stop. I was just messing with you,” He said, grabbing his boyfriend and planting kisses all over his face.

“No, that’s not funny. Get off me you jerk,” Y/N said not making any move to push Jason off which the vigilante smiled at.

“I’m sorry, but now you know how it feels,” Jason showed Y/N his phone that had been recording the entire interaction, “Payback,” He declared, clearly mocking the smaller boy.

Y/N rolled his eyes before heading back inside with his boyfriend who showered him with love and kisses for his prank but made fun of him the entire time. And it didn’t stop there.

Jason did scare pranks, couples challenges where they had to answer questions (his favorites were the ones that came with punishments like dunking each other’s head in water or getting hit with a pillow), and more.

It was the reaction memes all over again.

But, there was still one challenge he hadn’t come across yet that Y/N did and was more than ready to do on his boyfriend.

They were currently sitting in the car, spending a day out together since Y/N's load from his classes was light and there weren’t any cases Jason was working on with himself or his family either. They were parked in a parking garage outside a shopping center, having just come back from shopping and grabbing some food inside when Y/N set up the camera.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Jason asked while stuffing his face with the freshly baked pretzel bites they got.

“Saw this new couple challenge on TikTok and wanted to do it,” He said, setting up the phone mount and adjusting it so it had him and Jason in full view.

“So, I saw this new challenge where couples are asking their partners random questions about each other and seeing who knows more about the other. So me and my husband are going to do the same thing and I’m going to start.” Y/N said into the camera.

The moment it came out his mouth, Y/N could see the initial surprise on his face turn into a small smile, but he didn’t say anything or question him, so he kept going. As he did his best to think up random questions to ask Jason, he kept referring to him as his husband, increasing the smile to a shit-eating grin the longer it went.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Y/N asked.

“I’m your husband now?” Jason asked, turning to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Y/N asked with his own raised eyebrow.

“Absolutely not,” Jason said, not saying another word as Y/N ended the video. He pulled out his phone as they finished their food and Y/N showed the original challenge that everyone was doing, agreeing with him when he called the guy from the original video a complete idiot.

But, he definitely noticed Jason not being as discreet as he thought he was, immediately noticing Jason’s browser on his phone being pulled up to engagement rings.

Oh boy.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[tariah23]

@brownjuevo

🗿

My sis and I used to talk about this sometimes if I’m being honest. I never went around calling nb ppl slurs but I know that if you did as a black person, the first thing that nbs would do is look at you like you’re crazy or feign ignorance when you point out the contradiction of them thinking that it’s okay to casually throw around slurs at black people because they believe it to be so funny, term of endearment or whatever tf.

[seonghrtz]

𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ✶ sukuna ryomen

꒰ true beauty ! ꒱ an arrogant prince falls under the spell of an enchantress, who turns him into the hideous four-armed beast until he learns to love and be loved in return.

❛❛ in the end, she was his salvation and his downfall ❜❜

pairing. prince!sukuna ryomen x (belle)fem!reader.

contents. the beauty and the beast alternative universe, fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers (?), he fell first he fell harder, royal!au, sukuna true form as the beast, occ sukuna.

amy's note. hi sweetie, this is amy!!! this is the first story in the fairy tale series, starring sukuna ryomen in the beauty and the beast universe. initially i was going to put sukuna in the cinderella story, just because of the fandom memes (jjk x disney princess), but i think he as an arrogant beast who has never loved anything would make much more sense and fit in better. anyway, that's it, i hope you like it!!!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

𝕺𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, in a kingdom far away, there was a handsome young prince who lived in a magnificent castle, and even though he had everything he wanted, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and rude. But one winter night, in the middle of a storm, an old woman came to the castle and offered him a simple rose in exchange for shelter from the cold and rain. Disgusted by her ugliness, the prince scoffed at the offer and sent the old woman away. But she advised him not to be deceived by appearances because beauty lies within people and in their hearts, and when he sent her away again, she was transformed into a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, as she realized that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she turned him into a hideous four-armed monster and plagued the castle and everyone who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous appearance, the prince hid in the castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she offered was enchanted. It would bloom until the twenty-first year, if he learned to love someone and it was reciprocated by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be undone, otherwise he would be doomed to remain a monster forever. Over the years, he fell into despair and lost all hope. After all, who could love a monster?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

The day began with a flurry of activity in the small village. Residents greeted each other as they went about their morning chores, and others opened their shops. Y/n, a beautiful young woman, made her way through the crowd with one goal in mind: to get to the village library. After buying some fresh bread and gathering the missing parts for her father's latest invention, the young woman made her way to the small library to return the book she had borrowed last week.

"Good morning, Mr. Higuruma." Y/n said as soon as she saw the man from the shop holding a pile of books. "I'm here to return the book I bought last week."

"Miss Y/n, good to see you again," the brunette said, placing the pile of dusty books on the table in the corner of the shop. "Unfortunately, the delivery of new books has been postponed until next week."

"Oh, no problem." Y/n approached the bookshelf, put the book she had picked up the week before back in its place, and ran her finger along the spines of the other books, looking for one in particular. "I think I'll take this one!" She took the book from the shelf and showed the cover to Higuruma, who just laughed.

"That must be the tenth time you've read that one."

"But this is the best book, certainly my favorite. Distant kingdoms, battles, and a princess who saves the prince. Sometimes, it's hard not to see myself as the protagonist. Living an adventure and finding her true love, something much bigger than life in the country.”

"Since you like this one so much, I'm giving it to you as a present."

"Mr. Higuruma, I can't accept that!" she looked at him, astonished at the idea, while the man in front of her just smiled.

"You're my most loyal customer. You've read all the books I have in the library. And maybe the only one with a real interest in reading."

"Thank you, that's very nice of you." Y/n smiled happily at the gift and the bookseller's gesture.

"You're welcome. Next time I'll have some new books for you!"

"Thank you, Mr. Higuruma!" Y/n waved, smiled, and left the shop. The young woman stared at the cover of the book, the worn blue leather and the worn gold lettering, it was a simple book, but with an extraordinary story behind its simplicity.

The young girl was so busy studying the book that she barely noticed Gaston's not-so-subtle appearance at her side.

"My beautiful lady!" Gaston said, thickening his voice and stopping in front of Y/n, preventing her from continuing on her way.

"Gaston..." she rolled her eyes and looked away from the book in her hands to the man in front of her.

"My beautiful Y/n, when are you going to realize that we are soul mates and forget about these books, which by the way have no figure, how can you like this so much?" He said, taking the object out of the girl's hands and giving her (or trying to give her) a gallant smile.

"Well, you just have to use your imagination while reading and I think you're reading the wrong signals about us," the girl took the book back and turned away from the man, "I have to go now, have a nice day, Gaston."

Y/n walked quickly back to her house, which was a short distance from the village. When she got home, she left the fresh bread on the breakfast table and picked up the tools her father had asked for before going down to where he was conducting his experiments and inventions.

"Dad? I brought what you asked for."

"Thank you, dear!" The girl's father came out from under the machine and took the object his daughter had offered him.

"Dad..."

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you think we'll live here for long?"

"Oh, dear, when I become a great inventor, we'll travel the world!" Her father stepped out from under his invention, ready to finally put it into action. "Let's hope it works, dear!"

As soon as the machine was turned on, the parts began to move and a sound was heard, the axe on top moved down and cut the wood on the bench.

"Dad! It works! Your machine works!" the young woman said excitedly.

"And the axe didn't fly away!"

"Dad, you're going to be a great inventor!" The young girl hugged the older man, finally her father's dream would come true and he would become a great inventor.

"Oh dear! I must run and pack my things to go to the city!" The old man said excitedly, pacing back and forth, "You don't mind being alone for a few days, my child?"

"Of course not, Dad. Go after your dreams." The young woman smiled openly and hugged her father once more. "Come, let's pack your things for the trip."

Together with her father, the girl went up to the house and helped him prepare the small suitcase along with some snacks for his trip to the city. Ever since they had moved to this small village in the countryside, her father had been working tirelessly on various inventions that had failed one after the other, causing his reputation as a madman to grow among the locals. However, she had seen him fail and never give up, that was his dream, to become a great inventor and help people with his inventions and there was nothing that would stop him until he managed to make his inventions work. And if his invention surprised the judges in the competition and managed to win first place, maybe Y/n would not have to settle for a life in the country while her father could work on his "crazy gadgets".

The young woman stroked the horse's copper-brown coat while her father checked the bag with some tools.

"Be careful on your way, Dad." Y/n hugged him and helped him onto his horse.

"I'll be back in a few days, don't worry about me!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✶

The next day, Y/n awoke in high spirits, hoping that her father's trip to the city would be smooth and without danger. She put on a simple blue dress and headed for the kitchen, but before she could prepare breakfast, a knock on the door echoed through the house, along with a voice she knew well. On tiptoe, Y/n reached the door and looked through the peephole, seeing Gaston from an unfavorable angle.

"My dear Y/n! Are you home?" Gaston thickened his voice and puffed out his chest, even though no one could see him, "I have an offer you can't refuse!"

The young woman took a deep breath and opened the door with a fake smile on her lips. "Good morning, Gaston. Don't you think it's a little early for one of your proposals?"

"Oh, my beautiful lady, it's never too early for my irrefutable proposal!" Gaston said as he walked past Y/n and sat down in the dining room chair. "You know, my dear, I think you've noticed by now that I'm the best suitor in the village. It would be a shame for you to let me go. And lately, I've been thinking of certain ways to take our relationship a step further."

"Our relationsh–" The young woman's speech was interrupted by Gaston, who abruptly rose from his chair and spoke again.

"Think about it, a little house in the country, a small herd of cattle, a plantation, seven, no, ten children with my beautiful face, and you know what else I see?" Gaston looked at Y/n, but before she could answer, he continued, "My beautiful wife greeting me after a day's hunting.”

"You've been using your imagination a lot..." the young woman whispered to herself.

"And do you know who my wife is that I see in this beautiful future of mine?" Gaston approached the young woman, pressing her against the wall.

"How could I imagine?"

"It's you, my beautiful Y/n."

"Oh, Gaston!" Y/n held back the urge to make an expression of disgust at the scenario the man in front of her was describing, "I'm... flattered...? Yes, flattered by such affection, but I think this is wrong, you know, I think you've made a mistake.”

"How can I be wrong? You're the only one in this village whose beauty is on my level.”

"Beauty? Is that all you care about?" Y/n looked at him confused, she knew Gaston was shallow and self-centered, she just didn't get that he was trying to get her to marry him just because she was "the most beautiful girl in the village".

"And what else should I care about?"

"Well..." The young woman took a deep breath, "I think it's time for you to go... oh, I just heard Lefou say he's spotted a huge, fast deer that can't be caught!”

"A huge, fast deer that can't be caught?" Gaston's eyes widened. "Well, call your crazy father later so we can decide about our marriage."

"That won't be necessary because I'm not marrying you!" Y/n closed the door and locked it with all the locks her father had created. Ignoring Gaston's cry that she would be his one day, the young woman turned, leaned her back against the door, and slid to the floor.

Marry Gaston? It was a terrible nightmare. Not even if Gaston was the last person on earth would Y/n marry him. She had so much to do, so many places to explore, so many people to meet. And if she was going to get married, it certainly wouldn't be to someone as shallow as Gaston; she wanted someone who really liked her and her personality, not her looks.

The girl slowly got up, unlocked the door, and looked outside her house to see if the man had already left and wouldn't come back when he realized the huge deer was a lie. She did, however, notice a familiar copper brown horse galloping quickly toward her house.

"Phillipe?" She left the house, closing the door behind her, and walked toward the animal. "Where's my father, Phillipe?" The girl said, noticing her father's absence and the horse's exhilaration. "Phillipe, take me to my father, please!" Desperate to think of the worst that could happen to her father, the young woman pulled out the cart containing her father's invention and quickly mounted the horse, asking him to lead her down the path to where her father was. Phillipe raced through the dark paths of the forest, causing Y/n to shiver at the eeriness of the forest, while her mind wandered far away, worried about her father's current situation.

Phillipe began to slow down as a huge castle appeared on the horizon. It was so large and terrifying that it looked like something out of a horror book, though it seemed to blend into the desolate landscape around it. But perhaps what intrigued Y/n most was that she had never heard anyone in the village talk about the place ⸻ and it intrigued her even more because the castle didn't seem to be secret at all.

Y/n dismounted and looked around, trying to find the courage to open the gate in front of her. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't afraid of this dark, unknown place. But the important thing there wasn't to prove her courage, but to find out where her father was. The gate was cold and made a terrible noise when it opened, but that didn't stop her from continuing.

"Hello!" The young woman said loudly as she entered the castle. "Is anyone here?" She narrowed her eyes, trying to see in the pitch black, but quickly found a lit candelabra. "I'm sorry to barge in uninvited, but I just came to get my father! Please... help me find my father!" Y/n walked aimlessly through the castle, following only her faint intuition of where he might be. "Hello? Is anyone there?" She spotted a staircase that seemed to lead to the top of one of the castle's towers. "Dad, are you there?"

"Y/n, my daughter?" Her father's weak voice called out.

Quickly, Y/n left the chandelier on the stone near the wall and ran to her father, who was trapped. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

"My dear daughter..." the girl's father coughed before continuing, "You must run before he arrests you too..." Before the girl could say anything, footsteps echoed through the room.

"Who's there?" She looked around for the person who had just entered the scene.

"I'm the one asking the questions, impertinent girl." The stranger's gruff voice sent a shiver of fear down the young woman's spine.

"Please let my father go!" The girl pleaded.

"I'm not in the mood for that."

"What? How can you be so cruel? Can't you see he's in bad health?"

"He should have thought twice before he broke into my castle."

"Please let him go! I promise we will never see each other again!"

"Empty promises. I'm not really interested in that."

"Then..." the young woman took a deep breath, "let me take his place."

"My daughter! Don't do this!" her father said with tears in his eyes. How could he lose his daughter right before his eyes.

"Things are getting more interesting..." the person in the darkness laughed. "A fair trade, the old flesh for the new... uh, I'll take that trade, impertinent girl."

Before Y/n could speak, her body was thrown into a cell. The young woman quickly approached the iron bars and watched as her father was brutally removed from where he lay. Her father screamed her name and tried to get away from the person, but it was impossible to escape.

In the darkness, the girl could see the castle owner's back. The broad shoulders were adorned with black lines that ran the length of his back and, most shocking to the young woman, the four muscular arms that protruded from the side of his body.

Y/n was not only the prisoner of a shady castle owner with a serious personality problem but also of a giant monster with four arms who could finish her off with a snap of his fingers.

Minutes later, the owner of the castle reappeared and abruptly opened the door to the cell Y/n was in. The girl looked up at him, her eyes watering, afraid of what might happen to her from this moment on.

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to follow me?"

"Where are we going?" she asked confused and scared as she followed the four-armed man.

"The basement..." his voice came out loud and clear, making the young woman shudder. "Shall I take you to a room, or would you rather stay in the tower?"

The girl had no answer, just followed him through the dark corridors of the castle.

"What's your name?" Y/n asked without thinking and quickly pressed her lips together, regretting her sudden action.

"Dinner will be served at eight." He said, opening a door at the end of the corridor, "If you don't come, you won't eat."

"Do you want me to have dinner with you?" the young woman asked him incredulously.

"It's either that or starve to death. You're lucky I'm giving you a choice..." he rolled his (four) eyes.

"I'm not having dinner with you!”

"THEN STARVE!" The four-armed man shouted angrily, frightening the girl, and slammed the door with a loud bang.

The young woman stared at the door in front of her, feeling tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She began to feel overwhelmed and staggered to sit on the bed. She had lost the two most important things to her on the same day: her father and her freedom. Now, she would have to live with an arrogant and rude being. Slowly, she raised her trembling hands to her face and wiped away the hot tears.

"Who's there?" she asked, startled when she heard a knock at the door. The girl got up and opened the bedroom door to find nothing there. She breathed a sigh of relief, but was startled to see a pot of tea and a cup in front of the door. "Tea?"

"Hello, Miss!" The cup said smiling, startling the girl.

"Itadori, what did I say about scaring our guest?" The teapot said, rebuking the cup's attitude.

"I'm sorry, Nanamin, and I'm sorry, Miss, for scaring you.”

"What... what's going on?"

"Forgive our rudeness," the teapot said, "I am Nanami Kento, I work as a mentor for the young Itadori Yuji, who is the younger brother of the master.

"Master?"

"Uh, Sukuna, the big guy with four arms."

"Sukuna..." Y/n whispered his name. The name actually suited him. "So this is like a magic castle?"

"You could say that," Nanami said, "Anyway, we came to ask you if you would like a cup of tea."

"If you don't mind, I'd love to." The teapot approached the cup and poured the warm liquid into it.

"Miss..."

"Please, just call me Y/n."

"As you wish, Y/n." Nanami said, being quite serious for a teapot, "I apologize for Master's inconsiderate and rude attitude."

"Mr. Nanami, please don't apologize for his actions, it's your master who should apologize, not you."

"She's right, Nanamin!" Itadori said with a cheerful voice, "My brother should stop being such a jerk and start learning not to be rude to people!"

"You two are quite different, Itadori," the young woman smiled at the cup in her hand.

"Let's just say I got the good genes from the family."

"Well, I'm afraid we've talked too much already, we have a feast to prepare. Come on, Itadori."

"Do you need any help?"

"Of course not, Y/n, you are our guest of honor!"

The young woman watched as the teapot and cup left the room, then threw herself back onto the bed. She had just been talking to a teapot and a cup... perhaps the things in there were not the most conventional she had ever seen in her life.

Filled with curiosity about the place, Y/n got out of bed and walked almost on tiptoe to the door, slowly opening it. She poked her head out of the room and looked around to see if anyone was guarding the door to the room she was in. When she realized that no one was there, she left the room, closing the door behind her, and began to wander around the castle with a curious look on her face.

This castle was certainly different from all the castles that appeared in the stories in the books she used to read. The decor was gloomy. The curtains looked as if they hadn't been opened for years, leaving everything in a darkness that the young woman was beginning to get used to.

Y/n climbed a flight of stairs and continued her exploration of the place. When she reached a dead-end hallway, she was about to turn around and return to her assigned room, but a faint glow from the slightly open door piqued her curiosity. Before entering the unfamiliar room, she looked around to make sure no one was around and entered, making as little noise as possible.

The darkness of the room prevented her from noticing the clutter and some upside-down furniture in the corner of the huge room, but also the glow of a beautiful rose near the glass door of the balcony that had captivated her. Before she could touch the glass that held the rose, Y/n felt a large, strong hand grab her wrist.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE?" Sukuna's hand closed tighter around Y/n's wrist.

"I was just–"

"I THINK YOU BETTER GET OUT OF MY WAY BEFORE I KILL YOU!" Sukuna let go of the girl's wrist, not caring how much force he used against her, and turned to look at the rose in front of him.

The words frightened Y/n more than Sukuna's tone. Fearing that the threat would become reality, the young woman ran as fast as she could, looking for an exit from the castle.

When she found the huge door, she opened it without a second thought, feeling an icy wind against her body. Her thin dress wasn't enough to keep her warm in the cold or protect her from the falling snow, but it was all she had and she wasn't going back to the castle just to find something to run away with ⸻ the chances of meeting Sukuna were high and something she didn't want at the moment.

A wolf's howl echoed through the forest, and Y/n tried to run as fast as she could in the snow. Her body was freezing more and more with each passing second, and her head was spinning since the only thing she had eaten during the day was the cup of tea Nanami had offered her. Dizzy, the young woman's vision blurred, and she stumbled over a branch that was in her way. Turning around, she saw a wolf staring at her with a hungry look and wished that the animal in front of her wasn't staring at her. But before she could get up and run away in a lousy attempt to save herself from a natural predator, Y/n noticed a huge figure coming up behind the wolf and picking a fight with the animal.

Gradually, the young woman felt her body tremble with fatigue and the cold, but she soon regained some consciousness when she felt large, muscular arms holding her. "You've come to kill me, Sukuna...?" her voice came out weakly.

"Shut up, you impertinent girl."

Before she could respond to Sukuna's words, the young woman felt her body give way completely, and everything went black.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✶

When Y/n finally regained consciousness, she felt something soft underneath her and a pleasant warmth, but the sound of an argument brought her headache back. Sukuna's voice, the only one she could recognize, was loud and angry, and he didn't seem to mind shouting.

"I SWEAR, GOJO, THE NEXT TIME YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH, I'LL MELT YOU INTO LIQUID WAX AND THEN BREAK YOU IN HALF.”

"Master, I'm sorry to bother you."

"WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT'S WRONG, GETO?!"

"Miss has just woken up."

"So you finally decided to wake up?" Sukuna turned to the young woman, his four arms crossed in front of his broad chest, and approached the sofa where she lay.

"What happened?"

"You fainted"

"How long was I unconscious?"

"About three days."

"What?" The girl looked at him, startled by his answer. Could she have been unconscious for so long just because she hadn't eaten?

"It's been two hours at most, now stop complaining because the food is getting cold." Sukuna turned his back to the young woman, allowing her to notice several scratches along his length, surely acquired in his fight with the wolf.

"Excuse me, miss, it is a pleasure to meet you, I am Gojo Satoru, currently your candelabra, but always at your service!" The talking candelabra approached the young woman, "If you would allow me, I would like to take you to the dining room, as some are incapable of doing such kindness!"

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Gojo," Y/n smiled slightly and got up from the sofa, following the chandelier into the dining room. She sat down at the end of the table laden with food and shivered slightly when she saw Sukuna join her in the meal, taking a seat at the other end of the table.

Dinner took place in deep silence, on the one hand there was Sukuna who didn't know how to start a conversation politely and on the other there was Y/n who was in an internal discussion with herself about Sukuna's heroic act of fighting a wolf hand to hand after she had run away. He saved her life even when he didn't have to ⸻ and even after he threatened to kill her.

When she finished her dessert, the girl picked up the glass bowl filled with water and a cloth from the table and slowly approached Sukuna, "Do you mind if I help you with those bruises?" she asked in a low tone, but audible enough for the man to hear.

"Whatever." Though he seemed indifferent to the girl's request, Sukuna moved and turned onto his back, giving her better access to his bruises.

"Does it hurt?" she asked as she dipped the cloth into the water and gently wiped the bruises.

"Not a bit."

"I'm sorry, I'm to blame for what happened to you.”

"I'm glad you know. If you hadn't had the stupid idea to run off in the middle of the night, I wouldn't have been hurt," he said in a rude tone.

"Well, I wouldn't have run away if you hadn't scared me and threatened to kill me."

"And I wouldn't have yelled at you if you hadn't entered the forbidden wing."

"You have never forbidden any wing of the castle, just like you never said I couldn't explore it." The young woman's words left Sukuna speechless. In fact, he had never forbidden her to go to his room. She had done nothing to deserve being cursed and threatened. "You should learn to control your anger. Otherwise, you'll only drive away those who love you." The room fell into such a deep silence that neither of them dared to speak for several minutes. When she had finished cleaning Sukuna's bruises, the girl placed the cloth on the table and turned to leave. "I think I'd better go back to my room. Have a good night," she whispered.

"Y/n..." Sukuna's calm voice brought the young woman to an immediate halt. It was the first time he had called her by name.

“Yes?”

"Have breakfast with me tomorrow."

"Was that supposed to be a request?"

Sukuna rolled all four eyes, "Could you have breakfast with me tomorrow?"

"Yes, we could." she smiled broadly, showing her teeth, amused by Sukuna's frustrated look, "I would love to, thank you for asking."

"Yeah... whatever." Sukuna looked away to some random point. "Go to sleep, impertinent girl."

“Good night, Sukuna.” The young woman smiled openly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✶

When Y/n rejoined Sukuna the next morning, her first reaction was to examine the cuts on the man's back. The young woman felt guilty about the injuries, for if she had thought twice about what she was doing, the fight might never have happened, and Sukuna might never have been hurt.

Breakfast was eaten in silence, with discreet glances exchanged. For some reason, after being rescued by Sukuna, the young girl had a new vision of the four-armed monster. It's true that he was rude and arrogant most of the time, but there was something about him that had the potential to be a kinder being. Sukuna wasn't purely evil. She could see that at dinner last night when something started to blossom between them. Sukuna, on the other hand, tried to remember that the girl was kind to everyone around her. He was no exception to her kindness and sweet touches.

"I want to show you something." Sukuna said, controlling his tone, which surprised the young woman.

"What is it?" She said curiously.

"Could you..." he sighed deeply "Could you come with me?"

"Of course!" She smiled at Sukuna's attempt to be polite.

Sukuna led the young woman through the castle, which, unlike the day before, had its curtains and windows open and didn't look so frightening in the light.

"This is... an apology... for scaring you yesterday..." Sukuna's voice was lower than usual, and the tips of his ears turned red as he looked away from the girl in front of him. He certainly couldn't look into the young woman's eyes, not when he thought her eyes were as beautiful as the starry sky.

The four-armed man opened the doors in front of him, revealing to Y/n a vast library filled with books from floor to ceiling.

"Oh my! That's wonderful!" Y/n smiled and looked around, "How did you know I liked books?"

"A hunch."

"Sukuna..." The girl approached the man, "I accept your apology, and thank you for showing me this place. I admire you for trying to change." The young woman's hand reached Sukuna's upper right arm, and she gently smoothed the boy's skin under her hand, sending a shock through Sukuna's huge body. "So, which book shall we read first?" she asked after noticing the sudden and strange silence of the man in front of her.

“We?” Sukuna looked at the woman in disbelief.

"Yes, us!" Y/n smiled, pulling Sukuna with some difficulty to look at the books in the large library. "I think we started our relationship in a very bad and strange way, but I think we can change that... if you want to, of course."

"You are too good for this world..." Sukuna whispered.

"What did you say?" Y/n turned to Sukuna, puzzled by what the other had whispered.

"That you talk too much and that you're very curious," he crossed his four muscular arms.

"Aren't you the least bit curious about the world?"

"The world is a cruel place full of arrogant men who dream of being gods, I don't think that arouses my curiosity.”

"You have a very dark view of the world..." The young woman looked at him in surprise.

"It's just reality..." Sukuna shrugged.

"And why don't you try to change that reality?" The girl ran her finger along the back of the books, "Maybe if you looked for a new perspective, you might be surprised by the result."

"I have a feeling I don't have time for this anymore.”

"And why not? There's a whole world of possibilities out there, behind the bars of the castle."

"Do you think I've been stuck in the castle all these years because I want to be? Ever since they turned me into that four-armed monster, I've been hiding. What do you think would happen if I walked around the village like a normal person? People would hunt me down and try to kill me.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't thought of it that way..." Y/n stared at the floor as she clutched the book in her hands, ashamed that she had never thought of it from that perspective.

"Whatever"

"Why did you turn into a monster?" The girl's words were out of her mouth before she could think twice. "Oh, I'm sorry for being so pushy."

"An old witch cursed me..." Sukuna shrugged as he sat down on one of the sofas in the library.

"And there's no way to break the spell?"

"It's more complicated than you think..."

"Sukuna... why are you hiding under this rude and arrogant personality?" The young woman approached him and sat down beside him.

"I've always been like this, so stop giving me a hard time." He rolled his eyes and looked away from the girl.

"You can trust me, I won't tell anyone. Everything you tell me here will stay here." She put her hand on Sukuna's hand, which was resting on his thigh.

"Which book did you get?" he asked, diverting the subject.

"One of adventure and romance," the young woman smiled, respecting the man's decision not to talk about his past, "would you like to read it with me?"

Sukuna sat down on the sofa with a false expression of disinterest and watched as Y/n smiled excitedly as she opened the book, ready to tell her favorite story to the man next to her.

Neither Sukuna nor the young woman noticed the passage of time, and they were only slightly surprised when Geto, the clock, and Gojo, the candelabra, entered the library to announce that lunch was served.

They ate lunch and dessert in silence, both afraid to break the pleasant atmosphere between them. When they returned to the library to finish the story, the young woman noticed the snow falling outside the castle.

"Sukuna... instead of reading again, why don't we go outside and enjoy the weather?" The young woman suggested with a slight smile on her face.

"Do you want to go outside?"

"Come on, it'll be cool!"

After they were properly warmed up (this was the first time the young woman had seen the boy with some kind of cloth covering his upper body), they both went out side by side into the castle's huge garden. Slowly, the girl walked away from Sukuna, and suddenly, in her actions, she bent down and picked up a handful of snow in her hands, forming a ball, and then hit the four-armed man in the face.

"Is this a request for war?" Sukuna bent down to form two snowballs with his four hands.

"Are you telling me you're too old to have fun?" she smiled, hiding behind a tree as she made another snowball.

A snowball fight ensued, with the young woman laughing every time she hit Sukuna with a ball. Y/n ran through the snow, laughing awkwardly, until she felt her body thrown to the ground and pinned by a body more than twice her size.

"What? Have you run out of things to do, you impertinent girl?" Sukuna smiled sideways, bringing a blush to the girl's cheeks beneath him.

"If you stand over me like that, it won't be as much fun..." Y/n looked away.

"Ah, but I find it very funny," he laughed anasally. One of his hands reached for the girl's chin, pulling her face (gently) so that she was facing him again.

"You have beautiful eyes..." the girl whispered, but because of the short distance between them, Sukuna was able to hear her perfectly.

"All four eyes? Or just a pair?" He smiled provocatively but was secretly curious to hear the girl's answer.

"Hm, I meant all four."

Sukuna's heart skipped a beat and he felt a warm feeling grow in his chest. He knew from the moment he saw her that his heart had chosen her, it was as if it broke into song every time she appeared in his field of vision. He knew he was lost the moment she was kind enough to take care of a monster like him and tend to his wounds. But there was still a problem. There had to be reciprocity, and he knew it wouldn't be possible to be loved, not by someone like her. In the end, she was his salvation and his downfall.

Sukuna stepped down from the young woman and lay down on the snow beside her, looking up at the clear, cloud-filled sky. "My parents never loved me. They said I was useless, a scum, a terrible curse in their lives. They never cared about me or Itadori."

"You deserve so much more, Sukuna, I can see it now." Y/n turned her head to meet the man's face in profile. "It can't have been easy, but I'm glad that you're here now," by my side, she added mentally.

“Y/n…”

“Yes, Sukuna?”

"Is there anything you've always dreamed of doing if you were in a castle?"

"Ah, well, there's only one thing I always dreamed of when I read fantasy books..."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✶

"That dress looks magnificent on you, miss!" Shoko, the wardrobe, said with a slight smile on her face, she had chosen a long, voluminous yellow dress that looked like gold.

"I love the dress," the young woman smiled sweetly and smoothed the skirt with her gloved hands, "It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen. Thank you for helping me, Shoko."

"Go ahead, dear." Shoko said with her calm tone and a lazy smile on her lips, "Have fun with Master Sukuna."

Y/n left the room, feeling her heart beating hard against her chest. It was as if the organ was ready to jump out of her body and run away. Perhaps the girl was worried about the extent to which her feelings had grown since meeting Sukuna ⸻ and especially after the new vision she had after being saved by him. Though he had his monstrous appearance and rough manner to keep his vulnerability from being exposed, the girl knew that deep down, Sukuna could be good and kind.

"Not bad." Sukuna smiled sideways as he met the girl in the hall. He was wearing one of his prince suits, which had been transformed for this very situation.

"Can you really dance?" she asked, trying not to sound so doubtful about the supposed waltzing skills of the man in front of her.

"Since I was five years old." Sukuna replied, taking the girl's hand and placing it on his shoulder while holding her other hand tightly. His lower arms found a place around her waist together with the upper one that was already there. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." She said with a smile.

The music echoed around the room, and Sukuna led Y/n, swaying from side to side until the girl got used to the dance moves. Their eyes met for a moment, and Sukuna lost himself in the depth and brilliance of the woman's eyes before him. The man had always found her beautiful, ever since that dimly lit night in the tower when they first met, she was certainly the most beautiful woman in his eyes, there was no beauty that could compare to hers. As time passed, Sukuna realized that her outward beauty was perhaps only comparable to her own inner beauty, which managed to be much more beautiful. Y/n was much more than a pretty face, her manner, her personality, and her admirable kindness and empathy were some of the things about her that enchanted him every moment he spent with her. And sometimes he thought that maybe he could have a place next to her, even with his monstrous appearance and questionable personality ⸻ she always made him want to be the best version of himself, even if he didn't know what that was yet.

"Y/n..." Sukuna's voice came out with a softness that startled him, "I want to take the chance to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything you want, I'm all ears."

"I..."

"MASTER! MASTER!" Gojo, the candelabra, ran toward the couple, who were lost in their own world.

"What is it, Gojo?" Sukuna's voice came out harsher than the tone he had used before.

"The castle is being attacked!" Gojo said in despair.

"By whom?" Sukuna's hands tightened slightly around the girl's waist, pulling her closer to his body.

"I think they are villagers, and your father is with them." Gojo turned to the young woman.

"My father? Is my father here?"

"Yes, but it looks like he's under arrest."

"Gojo, take Y/n to a safe place. If they want to come, let them come."

"What? But what about you, Sukuna?" the young woman looked at him worriedly.

"Don't worry, just do as I say." Sukuna slowly released the woman from his arms. "I'll take care of any disturbances, just stay safe."

"But I don't want to leave you."

"You're not leaving me, you're just protecting yourself from danger. That's what's best for you."

"I can decide what's best for me!"

"I'm well aware of that." Sukuna laughed weakly, "Just let me take care of it, and I'll get back to you safely."

"Promise me?"

"I promise."

The young woman followed Gojo to one of the farthest rooms in the castle, promising the chandelier that she would stay there until everything was settled. As soon as Gojo left, Y/n paced the room, thinking of a plan to rescue her imprisoned father. Sukuna and the castle staff would be busy fighting the townspeople, and it would be the perfect time for her to act in secret.

Determined, she opened the glass door leading to the balcony and assessed the distance; fortunately, she wasn't too high up to take a fatal fall. She opened the wardrobe and took out all the cloth she could find, tying the end of each into a tight knot to make a makeshift rope. With the rope in her hand, she threw it across the balcony, tying one end to the railing. A little clumsy, this being the first time she had done anything so radical, she jumped off the balcony, holding tightly to her rope, and climbed down calmly, looking straight up. Once on the ground, Y/n ran as fast as she could, looking for an exit ⸻ or entrance ⸻ that would lead her to the castle gates.

"Dad!" she cried in a low tone so as not to draw attention to herself when she spotted a cart stopped near the entrance to the castle.

"Daughter?" Her father's weak voice caught her attention.

"Dad!" she ran to the wagon, worried. "Are you all right?"

"I wonder if you're alright! Did Gaston manage to save you?"

"Gaston?" she asked as she searched for a stone to break the lock.

"Yes! When I returned to the village, I asked Gaston and the others to help me free you from that monster."

"Dad, Sukuna is not a monster!" The girl used all her strength and smashed the stone against the padlock, breaking the object and freeing her father.

"How is he not a monster, dear?"

"He's kind and brave, he can be polite when he wants to be. I realized that he's not a monster." The young woman hugged her father.

"Oh dear, you're in love with him..." the older man said more like a statement than a question.

"What? No, we're just friends." She looked away, embarrassed by her father's words.

"I think we'd better stop Gaston then, he's come with the intention of killing him," her father said worriedly.

"What?" she looked at her father wide-eyed, "Father, stay here, please!" The woman grabbed the hem of her dress and ran to the castle entrance, watching the chaos unfold around her. The townspeople were fighting the castle furniture, which was actually its bewitched inhabitants.

"Miss!" Gojo's voice caught the young woman's attention. "You're supposed to be in your room. What are you doing here? Master Sukuna will kill me if he finds out you're not safe!"

"I have to find Sukuna," she said desperately, climbing the stairs, "Gaston will attack him, I can't let that happen!"

"But Miss, that's dangerous!" Gojo tried to stop the girl, but to no avail.

"And Sukuna is in danger!"

The young woman ran until her feet hurt, and when she reached the hall where she and Sukuna had danced minutes before, as if they were the only two in the world. However, the sound of a gunshot and an agonizing scream caught the girl's attention and pulled her out of her thoughts.

“SUKUNA!”

"Y/n?" Sukuna turned to the girl, looking frightened, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Gaston..." the young woman whispered as she saw the brunette stand up and point his gun in Sukuna's direction.

Without thinking, the young woman ran up to Gaston and threw herself on him, knocking the gun out of his hands. Y/n stood up and threw the gun out of Gaston's reach.

"Oh, my beautiful lady! I've finally found you! Your father has been worried about your disappearance!" Gaston stood up with a smile, "If you'll excuse me, I have a monster to kill!"

"He's not a monster, Gaston!"

"Oh dear, don't tell me you're going to defend that monster?"

"Like I said, he's not a monster. And if anyone is the monster here, it's you, Gaston!"

"What did you say?"

"That you are the monster here!"

"You bitch–" Before he could finish his speech, Gaston punched Y/n in the face, and as the girl fell to the floor in surprise at the sudden impact, the man kicked her in the stomach, sending her rolling across the floor of the hall. And before Gaston could do anything, Sukuna punched him in the face.

"I'll make sure you never lay a finger on her again." Sukuna grabbed Gaston's neck and led him out onto the balcony.

"Please! Please don't kill me!"

"You should have thought twice before you touched her with your filthy fingers."

"Sukuna!" The young woman's voice made Sukuna lose focus on the man he was holding by the neck. "Don't kill him!"

"But he-"

"Please"

Sukuna took a deep breath and looked back at the man, who was almost out of breath. Sukuna left Gaston on the ground, coughing to catch his breath as he turned and headed for the girl on the ground, but something hit him in the side of his body. He staggered backward in fear, seeing the dagger in his waist, and fell with someone else. Gaston, who was behind Sukuna, overbalanced and fell off the balcony, letting out a pained and desperate scream.

"SUKUNA!" Y/n ran over to the man crouched on the ground.

"Are you all right?" Sukuna asked, reaching for the young woman's warm cheeks."You should be safe. Why are you here?"

"I was scared..."

"How could an impudent girl like you be afraid?" The man smiled provocatively as he lay on his back on the floor, feeling the blood run down his side.

"I went to save my dad," Y/n controlled the urge to cry, "and I wanted to know if you were okay."

"Did you really think I would lose to a guy like that?"

"Sukuna... I'm scared..."

"It's okay, I'm here. I promised I wouldn't leave, I'll keep that promise."

"I want to be with you... by your side." The young woman leaned down, resting her cheek against the man's bare chest.

"Y/n... I have something to tell you." Sukuna felt his heart beating heavily against his chest.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"Do you..." Y/n stood up in surprise and looked at Sukuna, "Do you love me?"

"Very much."

"I... I love you too." A broad smile formed on the girl's lips.

Sukuna's hand reached Y/n's face before reaching her neck and pulling her into a soft kiss. Sukuna's heart, which had been celebrating the mutuality of the girl's feelings, melted as soon as the young woman's soft, delicate lips met his ⸻ a warm, comfortable feeling settled in his chest. When they pulled away, Sukuna found his forehead on hers, and their breaths became one. Slowly, Y/n pulled away and opened her eyes, surprised by the sight before her.

"Sukuna... you..."

"What about me?" The man looked uncertainly at the woman before him.

"You no longer have four arms and four eyes!"

"What?" He stood up quickly and looked down at himself. The wound from Gaston's dagger had disappeared, as had a pair of arms. Around him, the castle was angelic and glowing again, shedding its monstrous appearance.

The spell was broken.

And he was free again.

"Thank you..." Sukuna hugged Y/n tightly.

"Why do you thank me?" The young woman broke the hug and got up from the ground, standing in front of Sukuna.

"For loving me even when I was a monster." His voice was lower than usual. Maybe he wasn't quite used to all this new feeling.

"As I said, you deserve many of the good things the world has to offer."

"Speaking of which, I think we can get to know the world now, as you said, look for new perspectives."

"We?"

"And why shouldn't we?"

"You really want to take me with you to see the world?" Y/n looked at him excitedly.

"I promised to stay by your side, didn't I? And by the way, I don't think I could have a better partner than you to look for a new perspective on things." Sukuna smiled and pulled Y/n around her waist, pressing their lips together once more in a sweet, quiet kiss. "I want you by my side, forever."

"If you thought that impertinent girl would ever let you go, you thought wrong." Y/n wrapped her arms around Sukuna's neck, bringing their faces closer as she smiled, "I love you too much to let you go. Whether you're human or monster, I'll stay by your side, forever."

"Just so you know, there's no turning back. You'll be by my side forever from now on." Sukuna smiled teasingly.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea." The young woman quickly sealed her lips with Sukuna's.

Sukuna was free of a spell that condemned him for his past actions, and now he would fall under the spell that was the love he felt for the girl in front of him without any regrets.

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[blorbocedes]

let me take you guys on a journey. one that will help you understand how annoyingly obsessive and hung up my brain can get......

so here is where our wild goose chase starts. I was going through a 2012 f1 blog's nico tag. it's actually pretty rare for early 2010s blogs to have comprehensive tagging systems so whenever I find one I try to go thru it all. and I come across this v cute nico image (cropped for posterity. payoff will be worth it promise)

here we have a picture, from 2012, and in classic 2012 fashion there is meme text on it. OP of the original pic deactivated. so I want to find the version without the meme text. pretty easy, just reverse google search right?

WRONG!

google reverse search is functionally dead and defunct and absolutely dogshit.

ok back to square one. I'm trying to sus out from whatever information I have.

the other meme watermark of f1humour.tumblr.com? deactivated.

okay 37 notes. maybe I can do something with this.

tumblr kind of breaks (?) with very old posts. so even if someone tagged it, I can't see it. ok but 14 people liked it!

of the 14 accounts only 7 actually show, including mine. so what I do is I go through 6 of those blogs, and their public archives because those accounts are all inactive for several YEARS now. and I check their blogs for April 2012.

no luck.

back to the drawing board.

the meme has a MOTORSPORT.COM watermark.

here's all the information I have: this was posted on April 24th, 2012, which means that's my upper limit on the date this could be taken. Nico got in Mercedes in 2010. So from anywhere between 2010-2012 motorsport images couldve taken this pic.

so, because I was born with excessive intelligence, I think hmmm... let me search the archives of Motorsport Images dot com. surely that is where Motorsport dot com would keep their Images.

two years of a racing driver's pictures means thousands of pictures. okay. let's start from April 2012. unfortch for keen eyed listening, April 2012 was also the Chinese Grand Prix aka Nico's first f1 win.

why is that relevant? because it means every photographer and their MOTHER took a picture of nico for his first win. over 900+ images.

while I am exhibiting extremely unemployed levels of behavior here, I don't actually have the time and brain capacity to sift through 900 images.

I go back to the original tumblr post. this time I go to the empty reblogs. there's lots!

but because there's no tags it can't help me. still I go through every one of them because you can see the blog I found the pic from @the-fastest-waffle is listed in the other reblogs even though they clearly had tags!

and I find my silver lining. from @fuckyeahf1drivers's tags

just this simple. #bahrain #lol

if this picture is from bahrain 2012 it changes everything, as in it narrows my search a shit tonne.

375 images. This means 1-15 pages and I know the exact picture I'm looking for. I feel like I'm SO close. I can't give up now. gambler mentality 💎

so I guess what. I go through all 15 goddamn pages. and I DONT FIND IT!!!!!!!!! SCREEEEEECH

now I've lost hope. if it's not from bahrain 2012 then it can be from anywhere from 2010-2012 taken by motorsport.com which is just too big a search. there isn't anything I can narrow it down with. my search is futile.

but I have one tiny little thought bugging my mind. how come motorsport images don't have the motorsport.com watermark... so I consult a fellow archivist @vegasgrandprix on the matter.

WE AS A SOCIETY NEED TO ADDRESS WHY MOTORSPORT.COM AND MOTORSPORT IMAGES.COM HAVE THE SAME FONT

finally. finally

I go on motorsport.com

which is actually kind of not super user friendly interface finding their pics if you have excessive intelligence like I do. I go into this knowing if the bahrain 2012 long shot is actually NOT when that picture is from, I'm fucked.

I filter and say a prayer.

and lo and behold.

salvation.

one person's singular tag of 'bahrain 2012 lol' led me down this spiral, where if it wasn't for that bit of information this would be lost forever because finding the version of the pic without the meme text is otherwise near impossible. google reverse search is no help, and f1 drivers simply get photographed way too much. reblogs + tags with context literally are a holy grail. this is what I imagine archaeologists feel like. so if you ever want someone 12 years after you've posted something to go down finding out, tag your posts accordingly (assuming tumblr survives the next decade)

so why did I do it? why did I spend hours of my life on this? cause it's fun. it's like a mystery and it itches at my skin. many times I'm not successful which is why the times I am feels so rewarding because it feels almost like detective work, finding and refinding something, overturning evidence. and I have a brain that just functions Like This.

and now for the fruit of my labour, if you guys still want to see. the picture I spent hours to find the original version of. sitting proudly at the time of posting at 9 notes 😌😌 here's what goes behind actually finding and archiving 2010s retired f1 drivers online. click below!

👇👇👇

👆👆👆

[bambikisss]

Django :: J.Yunho

-> Cop! Yunho x Criminal! Reader

-> Django: ATEEZ

-> After the bounty on you is raised, Yunho is sent out to go looking for you. What happens when he actually does find you outside of a club?

-> Warnings: Use of nicknames (Slut, princess, baby), degradation, spanking, use of handcuffs, car sex, from the back, ROUGH, oral (both reciving), Outlaw Yunho (deserves his own warnings at this point)

A/N: I have returned! I've been excited for ATEEZ's outlaw release, so I immediately thought of cop Yunho with Django. Plus, I just saw a video of Yunho getting mad and I immediately knew I had to write something about him. You are also nicknamed Django in this as well

Not proofread | Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

"Officer Yunho! Hey!" The busy police office doesn't stop Wooyoung from calling him as he enters the office, sighing as he asks what he wants. He had just came back from booking a criminal who punched him in the jaw, so he wasn't in the mood for whatever Wooyoung wanted to gossip about.

Before Wooyoung could show Yunho the meme he found, the police captain enters the room, passing around a wanted poster that was freshly printed. "Alright everyone, all hands on deck! We finally got a good picture to put on the wanted poster of the robber who has been making rounds around the city. She needs to be captured as soon as possible! The citizens of this city are constantly complaining about us not finding her."

Yunho nods at the captain's words, remembering the old lady earlier who was lecturing him while he was putting someone in his backseat. His eyes look over the wanted poster, noticing the now high bounty on you.

WANTED: Y/N AKA Django.

10 thousand dollar bounty! He can't help but scoff, knowing no one would turn someone else in for such a low bounty. He has often told his captain that they needed to raise the amount to actually make the citizens care, but his words were brushed off. His words were always brushed off, despite being one of the top cops who brought in the criminals. As he was preparing to go out on patrol to avoid doing any office work, the captain stopped him, handing him a stack of the wanted posters, giving him the silent look to go put them up all around the city. Yunho didn't even try to object, sighing as he accepting the papers before leaving the office, not wanting anyone else to add to his work load.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "No, ma'am, I cannot arrest him for parking here. This parking spot is not yours as it's public parking." Yunho couldn't help but sigh as he tried to hold back his anger at the woman's yelling, wanting nothing more than to yell back at her. But, he couldn't do that, not when he had this job to help people, even if they were centimeters from his face yelling about something as small as a parking spot.

Once he was finally back in his car, he drove a good bit away so he could be alone for a bit. Even though it was a good bit past midnight, the calls were still rampant. In moments like theses, it often made him wonder why he chose this job. He tossed his head back to rest against the headrest, taking a deep breath to help calm himself before he his phone began to ring, vibrating the many wanted posters of the criminal he still hadn't posted around the city. He answered the phone, returning to his natural position as he listened to Wooyoung.

"I'm currently working on the program for our bodycams, so I'm just calling to let you know that they'll be done for a while. I suggest you get some sleep while you can." Yunho thanked him before hanging up, smiling at the idea of finally being able to be asleep. He'd have to thank Wooyoung later for giving him a heads up.

As he returned to his upright position, he noticed someone walking out of a club, the woman walking right past the cop car. He couldn't help but admire the woman, his eyes moving over her beautiful short dress and heels.

Maybe he could do something else besides sleeping for the time being.

"Excuse me!" he got out of his car, jogging to catch up with the woman. He hoped he wasn't scaring her as he knew how some people felt about the police suddenly approaching them, but he hoped his charms could keep her from feeling so scared. He jogged in front of the woman, smiling as she met his eyes. "Sorry for bothering you, miss, but I-"

Oh. My. God.

Yunho paused as he made eye contact with the woman, his mind going back to the many wanted pictures that sat in the passenger seat of his car. He watched as a slow smile crept onto your lips, realizing that you're Y/N.

He just caught Django.

"You're under arrest, Y/N. Or, could I say Django." You tilted your head as you watched him roughly grab his handcuffs from his belt, the metal glimmering in the moonlight as he roughly grabbed your arm. You mentally cursed yourself for not realizing the car you walked in front of was a cop car, let alone the man you stopped to talk to was a cop. You tried to move from his strong hands, but he only pulled you closer to him, handcuffing your hands behind your back before he moved closer to you, pressing his chest to your back as he said into your ear "finally caught you, bitch." You would usually beat someone up for calling you a bitch, but to hear Yunho say it with a deep voice, filled with anger made your body warm up and your panties dampen. You wouldn't lie; he was hot and if he wasn't pushing you to get into his car, you would've given yourself to him to have his way with you. You were dying to know what was underneath the tight cop clothes that only showed off his muscles, mentally moaning at his roughness as he shoved you into the backseat before slamming the door shut.

Yunho couldn't believe he had been the one to catch you, smirking as he thought about what he could do with that lousy prize money- while it wasn't a lot, it was could be enough for a trip somewhere, maybe even a cruise.

He quickly got into the front seat before he began driving, thinking about what to do with you now that he had you handcuffed in his backseat. He knew that if he brought you back to the precinct, he wouldn't get the credit he deserved, plus you had escaped before so he couldn't bring you there. He bit his lip before pulling over into a empty alleyway, deciding to call his captain to tell him the great news. He looked back at you in the rearview mirror, gasping lightly as he noticed your legs now spread, giving him a perfect view of your now wet lace panties as your head rested back against the headrest. The image of you like that made his mouth water and pants tighten, cursing softly as he ripped his eyes from you. He waited at the tone for his captain to answer before he cursed as his voicemail began to speak. The one time he actually wanted this man to answer the phone, he wasn't. Yunho sighed before cursing softly, remembering that his body cams were off.

Why would he wait for the other police to punish you when he could? You gasped as the backseat door was ripped open, Yunho's hand moving to roughly pull you from the backseat to your knees in front of him, your knees now resting against the wet alleyway ground as he looked down at you with angry eyes. "What the fuck are you-"

"Shut up, slut. I suggest you do as I say or I'll make sure you'll spend the rest of your life behind bars." You jumped at his rough voice, watching as he began to unbuckle his pants, pushing them down his thick thighs to show you his large cock, hard and standing at attention against his stomach. Your mouth couldn't help but water, leaning forward to get a taste before hissing as his hand moved to grip your hair, roughly pulling your hair back so you could see his face, his tongue poking his cheek as his eyes darkened. "No. Good girls get to taste this cock. I don't think I should even let you look at it, let alone taste it." You were about to speak, your words cut off my his hand moving from your hair to roughly grip your cheeks, growling as he heard you whimper at his rough movements. It only made his cock harder, twitching in front of you, making you moan.

"You want this cock, you're going to earn it. Tonight, you belong to me- you are mine. You will answer to me or I will stop and drop you off in the jail in an instant." You nodded at his rough voice, mentally moaning when you hear him chuckling before moving forward, pushing only the head of his cock into your mouth, tossing his head back as your tongue moved around to gather the precum eagerly. Yunho closed his eyes at the feeling of your warm tongue moving over the slit of his cock before he decided he had enough, tossing his head forward to watch as he pushed the rest of his cock into your mouth, going down your throat in a slow pace. He watched as your eyes watered due to his large size, his hips moving in a slow pace as he clicked his tongue, shaking head in disappointment before removing his cock from your mouth.

"You want me to take care of that wet pussy you were showing me earlier, right slut?" you nodded at his question, gasping as his hands forcefully opened your mouth before he roughly pushed his cock back down your throat. "Then hurry up and pleasure me. Show me what you're good for, slut."

You nodded, your fingers digging into your wrist as you began to move your head along his cock, moaning around his long, thick length. You met his eyes while you did so, making Yunho moan as you moaned around him again, making him toss his head back against the wall. You moved faster as he cursed softly, praising you in between his moans.

"There we go, slut, now you're showing me what you're good for, fuck!" His voice raised as his hips began to move, dragging his length all the way out of your mouth before slamming back down your throat, making you choke around his length at his hard pace. You couldn't help but moan at rough he was being with you, squeezing your own legs to offer yourself some pleasure as he continued to fuck your throat at a fast pace. You soon felt his cock twitch, letting you know that he was going to cum. Yunho showed no sign of slowing down, though, moving even faster before roughly stopping his hips against your face as his cum filled your throat, choking out a moan before he slowly pulling out of your mouth as you cough, a mixture of drool and cum dripping down your mouth as you did so.

Yunho smirked before his thumb moved across your skin, gathering the mixture before shoving it back into your mouth, humming as your tongue moved around it to gather the mixture. He felt his cock harden immediately, hooking his thumb into the side of your mouth before helping you stand, ushering you to get back into the car. You carefully crawled in, gasping as you felt his hand meet your ass roughly, surely going to leave a mark as the car door slammed closed behind him. You rested your head against the seat as you felt his hands move around your body, pushing up your already short dress up your waist before kissing around your ass and lower back, whispering praises as he did so.

"I think you earned a bit of a surprise, don't you, princess?" He asked against your lower back, his hands moving to pull down your panties in a slow pace. You nodded, your brain too fuzzy from him face fucking you to think clearly. Yunho smirked at your state before letting his fingers move along your wetness, chuckling as he listened to you mewl at the teasing feeling. "What if my other officers were on duty tonight and caught you walking in front of their car wearing this slutty little dress instead of me, huh? Would you let them get a taste of this pretty pussy like this, princess?" He chuckled as you let out an almost drunk sounding "no, only you!"

"Fuck, yes that feels so good!" You moaned loudly as his finger suddenly plunged into your wet heat, his tongue soon following while he tasted you, making you moan loudly. It seemed like everything about Yunho was big- his cock, his muscles, even his tongue and fingers were big as he ate you out, his fingers moving in you at a rapid pace. He groaned as he felt his cock twitch underneath himself, letting his fingers move from you to lubricate himself before pumping himself, moaning loudly into your wet cut. The sounds and noises you were making for him made him move his own hand faster along his cock, plunging his tongue deeper into you to capture more of your wetness. You tasted so fucking sweet to him, making him want more of you.

It almost made him mad that his bodycam was off- he wanted to be able to watch the footage back of him having you like this.

"C-cum, I'm going to-" Your whimpers were cut off with a noise of disappointment as Yunho immediately removed his tongue from your wet cunt at your words, making you whine louder before yelping as his hand laid another spank to your ass. Before you could ask what the fuck he was doing edging you like this, you gasped at the feeling of his cock slowly pushing it's way into your cunt. Yunho swore it felt better than heaven; the way it wrapped deliciously around his long, thick cock made him toss his head forward with a loud moan, spanking you again. "That's such a nice pussy, baby. Too bad I'm going to ruin it"

That was the only warning you got before he began to pound into you, rocking your body as his hips roughly met the plush of your ass. He grunted as his hands held onto your handcuffed hands for balance, driving his hard cock into you at a fast pace. He tossed his head back as you moaned loudly, the feeling your orgsam soon washing over you as you toss your own head back, coating his cock in your warm cum. You laid against the seat limp as all of your energy left your body, trying to catch your breath as you felt him slowly pull out of you with a wet pop. You winced at the wet sound, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep against the leather seats.

"Don't think I'm done with you, slut. This is your punishment."

You gasped as you felt Yunho pick you up, sitting himself down before having you hover over his hard cock. You whimpered as he slowly sunk you back down onto it, moaning as you noticed the bulge forming in your stomach from how big he was. Once you were fully seated on his cock, Yunho noticed how tried you were, clicking his tongue before slapping your ass, grunting out "you better get to riding slut or that jail is going to be where you're laying your head for the night" "It's hard to ride you with my hands behind my back" You moaned out harshly, letting your head rest back against the front seat as you tried to catch your breath. Yunho chuckled, before leaning forward to kiss your neck, leaving marks along your neck before pulling back from you, holding up the handcuffs that were around your wrists. "There. Now ride me."

You nodded at his demanding voice, placing your hands on his shoulders before bouncing along his cock at a fast pace, moaning loudly at the feeling of his cock grazing your G-spot. Yunho moaned before smashing his lips against yours, gripping your hips to help you move along his cock at a fast pace as the sound filled the car. He let his tongue move to meet yours as you moved faster, panting into the kiss at the feeling of him going so deep into you.

"Fuck, Y/N baby, if you keep riding me like this I'm gonna fill you up with my cum." he couldn't help but laugh breathlessly as he tossed his head forward to let his lips hover over yours as you bounced his hands gripping your breasts now to for leverage as he fucks up into you, saying "and if you make me cum hard enough, I'll let you fucking go. Yeah baby, ride me hard like that and I'll let you go free"

You let his words provide sudden motivation to you as you begin to ride him again, meeting his rough thrusts as you bounce, gripping his hair as you pressed your foreheads against each other, moaning loudly as the wet sounds become louder int he car, the car moving with the force of you two.

"That's it, Y/N, I'm going to cum! You better cum with me, let me fill you up with my fucking cum!" Yunho tossed his head back as he slammed your down on his cock, an almost animalistic moan leaving his mouth as he cums, roughly kissing you as you squeeze around him, both your cums now coating your thighs and his cock. You both panted into the kiss before he carefully helped you to lay back against the leather seat, slowly pulling out of you as your legs shook.

You let your eyes close as you heard the car door close before the car turn on, being too tired to do anything as you slowly fell asleep. You soon woke up to the sound of Yunho on the phone, fully dressed in his police uniform as he spoke to who you figured to be his captain. You fixed your dress as you felt a surge of nervousness fill your body, reaching for the car door, feeling surprised as the car door opens, showing you it was unlocked. As you slipped out from the backseat, you realized Yunho had brought you back to where he had originally found you. You turned to him as he held out his card, his number written on it before he said to whoever he was on the phone with "Did I find Django? Y/N? No, I didn't."

You caught him smirking at you as you accepted the card, smiling back at him as you exited the car, the last thing you hear him say before you close the door being "yes I will go patrol and look for her." You carefully closed the door as he drove away, looking down at the card he gave you with his number on it.

Call me, Django ;)

[olderthannetfic]

How do we feel about the "Um just so you know the person you reblogged this from is an [insert undesirables category here]"? When it's some random meme or otherwise uncontroversial post, and not some elaborate political opinion post with a bunch of dogwhistles in it.

Because I just got it from a fandom acquaintance/friend and it felt really fucking unsettling.

Aside from the mutuals that I know from fandom and interact with, most of the other content I interact with on Tumblr is more about what it says than about who said it for me. I don't ever pay attention to who wrote what or which other Tumblr users they had beef with or whatever, I just read the post itself and decide if I like what it says or not. If someone posts something I REALLY dislike, I block them and move on, more in the hopes of seeing less of that sort of thing than with the intention of somehow eliminating that specific person. I never pay attention to who my mutuals are reblogging from and if I note that one of them reblogged something featuring a poster who's famously unhinged, I just assume they don't know and move on because I know my mutuals are reasonable people generally speaking. I like the anonymity of Tumblr and the focus on the content of the posts and not on specific people. It's why I hang out here and not on one of the platforms that are all about influencers and the like.

So today I was going through the blogs of a couple of people I don't follow to find a specific post and in the process I saw a fairly uncontroversial post I liked, reblogged it, and moved on. Then less than an hour later I was met with a wall of text in my DMs accusing that poster of having questionable political opinions and describing the beef they had with another person where they threatened them etc. etc.

TBH I felt incredibly uncomfortable with the level of scrutiny implied in paying attention to who I reblog random shit from, as well as the level of presumption in coming to my DMs and lecture me about it. I know nothing about the blogger they were talking about, have never interacted with him, and will probably never even have the opportunity or the desire to interact with him. He wasn't even the AUTHOR of the post, it was just on his profile. It makes me want to never post anything ever again.

I just... don't see the point of this sort of behaviour in general? "You shouldn't be giving [bad people] a platform" - look, I genuinely don't think that reblogging a pretty landscape from someone who turns out to be a TERF or whatever is platforming those beliefs in any way. I'm sorry, but I just don't see how my behaviour leads to any material harm to anyone. Even if I follow the person, the moment they start talking about TERF-y shit I'm gonna unfollow and/or block. The probability of me throwing all my well-developed political opinions down the drain and getting radicalized through the slippery slope of reblogging "CATS ARE SO CUTE WHEN THEY SWAT AT THINGS" from someone with a dogshit take about Palestine is literally zero. If it's the content of the post that's wrong, just explain why to me, or point out the dogwhistles or whatever. I'm open to being wrong in my opinions. I'm not open to my online friends acting like the fucking Stasi.

Maybe I'm just too old for these newfangled social politics but it just feels like either pointless catty high school drama or an attempt at social control that I can't help but interpret in a hostile manner. Even if it's followed by - as it was in my case - something along the lines of "obviously I'm not accusing YOU of anything!! I'm sorry it came off that way!!" when I pushed back against it. It feels like 1950s conservative housewives making sure you're not even greeting any of the town Undesirables at the grocery store, because you wouldn't want to be Morally Tainted by saying Hello to a divorcee!

It's kind of similar to the whole issue about people still writing HP fic. Am I interested in HP fic? TBH not at all - the author had soured it for me with her behaviour even before it was obvious how much she hated trans people. Do I think the people doing it are somehow harming anyone or putting money in JKR's pocket? I honestly can't see how, and so far none of the people adamantly against it have managed to explain it to me in a satisfying way, so I'm just gonna let it slide off me as another random internet hobby I don't get or care about.

--

My reaction is "Do you understand how Tumblr works? Do you?"

We have enough trouble with people reblogging barely-hidden anti-kink or homophobic shit. Who has time for cootie-based problems?

[ladyloveroll]

(These are my ACTUAL notes from my friends birthday party full of people who absolutely did not know who the fuck Itachi and Kisame were or how pairing names work or what a ship is.)

Writing kisaita (on and off) for 15 years

Never get tired of the ship

Excellent, friendly people in the fandom to keep making content (Cynni)

Presentation is less about the specific ship and more about the general qualities that make their ship S-tier. You may find this echoed in your own OTP, IDK.

Powerful, badass characters who can kick anyones asses no problem, as depicted where they are casually taking a stroll after Kisame (who still has his little fo-hawk) casually takes down the four-tails

Kisame is noted as the ‘tail-less jinchuuriki’

Itachi is clearly a fucking powerhouse, we don’t need to debate that

Working with strong characters means you are more easily able to portray their weakness and explore that side of them since that rarely gets screentime

Auxiliary, not main characters

Main characters are harder to write because they spend a lot of screen time accomplishing their goal and doing Plot

Auxiliary characters are more malleable, and morally gray ones especially so

Depicted here are Itachi and Kisame, separately, being ordered by their villages to kill their own people. They carry this order out, but do not particularly like it. Nor are they particularly loyal to their own villages, despite carrying this order out. It’s hard to say where their loyalities lie.

The answer is WITH EACH OTHER OBVIOUSLY

Any ship that has a timeskip has LOADS of canon-verse material you can work with, especially if it feels like the characters have changed or their dynamic has changed.

For Naruto especially, WTF are Kisame and Itachi doing for three years? Clearly neither of them are out capturing jinchuriki. They aren’t seen lounging around Amegakure or Akatsuki headquarters. They are just traveling the world. Probably doing hits. Probably hitting on EACH OTHER WOOOOOO

Long time skips mean a few thing: 1) Canon divergence, 2) Canon compliant, 3) pre-time skip, 4) during time skip, 5) post time-skip; and that’s not even the AU’s

They clearly haven’t made any other friends during this time either so lots of relationship to explore

The Naruto franchise is notorious for retconning. Probably because Kishimoto (the writer) was pushed to create at a pace that was impossible for any sane or healthy man to keep up with.

Fanficition writers can take advantage of this poor writing by interpreting the character in a lot more ways than if the character was solidly written.

There are a lot of different ways Kisame is written, and accepted as so

Itachi less so but we don’t have time for that

Retconning allows you to take a writers mistake and turn it into utter brainrot that ten other people (me) will reblog every 3 years

This one is kind of specific, but if you like angst then OH BOY this ship has a lot of potential for it

Any OTP that involves an angsty edgelord and a sadistic tagalong can indulge in either EXTRA ANGST and be able to balance out the angst with humor

The KisaIta ship has 4 great themes about it:

Redemption

Acceptance

Forgiveness

And Existentialism of course

Dynamic:

Sharkboy / lava girl

Edgelord / goof

Leader / follower

Maybe old? / a touch too young

Respect for each other

S-tier OTP because of strong themes and repeatable dynamics

Kinkfest here we come

S-tier OTPs must be able to withstand an intense variety of smut writing

Powerful level = able to handle pain and dish out pain

Body things? = more positions

The Shape of Water was one of the single best thing to happen to the KisaIta 18+ fics because (even though it existed before the movie came out) a lot more readers were into it now

Also, Kisame makes this ship work more than Itachi. He is fucking DEVOTED

at this point I was running out of my 10-minutes (THEY HAD THE AUDACITY TO PUT ME ON A TIMER) so i just backfilled the rest of the presentation with fanart and memes i like

Why do I like KisaIta?

I mostly write smut

They’re great at smut

I also like angst

They’re always great for angst, either character

Also look at them they are hot AF

Beefcake service-top vs. ‘shaped like a katana’ masochist

Healthy dose of hurt-comfort

They’re extremely flexible to write and so there’s a lot of stories you can create

thank you for not reporting me to the powerpoint police

[breannasfluff]

Do you ever feel the urge to just delete something you've written? Because you suddenly feel embarrassed about it? Or because no one would care anyway?

Oh boy anon, do I have a meme for you

I think everyone feels like this after posting. Even things that I think people will like, I still get nervous. Content out of my wheelhouse? New AUs? Oh yeah, I worry I’ll be the only one interested.

Things that help: friends! Writing friends, tumblr friends, discord, etc. I have some people I know I can rely on to cheer me on and even if something doesn’t do well, as long as one person likes it that’s what matters. Of course, the dream is that lots of people like it haha.

If you are missing this…see if you can build it? Comment on the works of authors you like. Chat in reblogs. Ask them questions about their writing process or tips. I did a bunch of that when I was learning and everyone had something different to share. I also met some really cool authors!

Usually, authors loooooove to talk about their work. I am no exception, haha. We put a lot of time, effort, and thought into stories and get very attached! It’s also why lack of response can be hard. Art is like that. We put ourselves out there and it’s daunting!

Improving writing skills is hard work, but does help. You can’t get better if you don’t write. A little while I ago I shared some lines from old things I wrote and they are SO cringy and bad. At the time I thought I was a literary genius.

If you worry about writing something original, try doing a fan work drabble of someone’s character if they are okay with it! Or, if this is LU, do a little scene with the boys. Make the reader care just as much as you do ��

I hope it helps and good luck!!

[darnell-la]

𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦

pairing: dom!logan howlett x black!fem!reader

warnings: flashbacks, passing out, a lot of foul languages, heavy smut, rough sex, hard making out, a lot of territory marking, jealousy, etc.

note: we were just reminded that Wolverine and Storm had their own love story, but they cut it out of the movie because they didn’t know how they would make it a thing in the rest of the X-Men movies. we need that storyline NOW!

here’s the smut only!

please like, COMMENT, follow, reblog, and REQUEST us.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

“You’ve been here for a week, grump pants. Just enjoy the Halloween party. God, did you guys not have fun in your world,” Wade pulled Logan through the doors of this adult Halloween party his friends had invited him to.

“How about you walk around, and make some friends while I say hi to mine, mkay? Good boy,” Wade pat Logan’s head before running off, knowing Logan wasn’t the physical touch type of man.

Logan stood at the front entrance for a while, looking around to see where the alcohol was. He knew they had to have some kind of liquor around here.

He sighed, thinking the party couldn’t get worse until he finally spotted the drink table. He rose his chest and began walking towards the booth, hoping they had some good and hard shit.

As he walked halfway, someone walked before him, almost making him trip. He went to open his mouth, but he stopped when the person's outfit reminded him of someone. Storm.

The woman kept walking, completely unaware of almost tripping Logan. The man stalked behind her, feeling memories come back to life.

Storm was one out of many women Logan had messed around with. They grew close. Very close.

“Let’s get some drinkin’ on!” Y/n shouted making the people around her celebrate. Her personality and how she carried herself seemed similar to one of the main people he missed.

“Ororo?” Logan spoke. Y/n stopped in her tracks and looked around Al for the faint voice. “Storm?” Logan spoke again right as y/n looked back at him. “Yeah?” Y/n asked with a smile.

Her smile soon faded away after noticing who the man was. He died. Well, at least in her universe. How is he standing right in front of her face?

“Is that really you?” He asked as his hands softly laid on her cheeks. Tears began filling the man’s eyes as he remembered everything from his universe. All the love, friends, and family he had.

“I-I’m just in a costume,” she said. He seemed so happy to see Storm, but that wasn’t who y/n was. She felt bad for disappointing him. She noticed his hands slowly move away from her. His eyes seemed lost.

“Heya! — See you made a new friend- Oh,” Wade looked at the woman then looked at Logan’s state before looking back at the woman. “Well, this isn’t good,” he said, not knowing how Logan would react. He’s known for lashing out.

“Woah, big buddy — Why don’t we go back home, heh? Seems like we’ve had enough fun. Sorry, my friend over here is kinda having a — a Wolverine attack. So, would you mind?” Wade snickered as he went to pull Logan back, but he didn’t move.

He just stared at y/n. Scanning her figure. Her hair. Her eyes. Her lips. Her shoulders. Her form. Her. She looked just like his old friend.

“S-Sorry, you just — You just look like her,” Logan spoke as his memories slowly faded away. “Woah, I don’t think that’s appropriate, bub. This 2024. Not all back women look the same,” Wade whispered, making y/n giggle.

“Huh, what? What are you even talking about?” Logan shot his head towards Wade then the young lady. “Oh my god, you- God, I hate you. I really fucking hate you,” Logan grabbed Wade by his button-up shirt, pissed off for probably the one hundredth time tonight.

“Woah, woah, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m not offended. I’m actually, honored,” y/n said as Logan slowly placed Wade down. “Well, you should be because this man here would fuck the shit out of-“ Wade’s voice began to sound like a shout before Logan launched in dead in his face.

“Ow, you- Fuck!” Wade grabbed his face, feeling his shifted nose. “You’re a dick. A big fucking dick,” Wade snapped his nose back in place, shocking y/n. The woman covered her mouth, realizing that the Wolverine and Deadpool were at her part.

“I see you’re the host. It’s plastered across your thick necklace- Woah!” Wade stopped his sentence as her eyes shut and her body went limp. Logan caught her quickly as Wade stood there, covering his own mouth now.

“Shit, I- Don’t worry guys! She just had a lot to drink. Gone off that liquor, you feel me? No? Yeah? Okay, well, we’ll take her to bed,” Wade tapped Logan’s shoulder to follow him quickly.

“Hey!” Someone yelled at the two. They stopped right in their tracks and turned towards the man. “Her room the third door on the left,” he said, making the two sigh in relief.

“I don’t know! I was just- I fuckin’ froze!” Logan shouted at Wade, who laid back on the stranger's couch as Wade messed around at her makeup desk, putting some blush and lipgloss on, making sure to leave her foundation alone. He fears cancel culture.

“Well, now you embarrassed us in her house. We’re never getting invited back again. Thank you, emotional twig,” Wade said, making Logan roll his eyes.

“I can’t believe I thought she was her. This lady's much younger and — She’s just much younger,” Logan said as Wade turned around in the spinning chair, now looking at the man.

“That’s what I said, but you’re thinking much more, ain’t ya? — Is it the curves? I mean, your lady had some too, but not like-“ Wade was cut off by Logan telling him to shut up.

“What!? The costumes are way thinner than a high-quality X-men suit. I’m all for feminism but damn! It was jugglin’ when you carried her up the stairs,” Wade raised his shoulders.

“You’re a sick individual, do you know that? God,” Logan shook his head, but he would lie if he said he didn’t see it. He saw it all when she had first stepped in front of him.

Wade went to go on about his rant until they heard y/n’s yawn, finally waking up. “Oh shit,” Wade stood up as well as Logan, both on different sides of the room.

“What the fuck,” y/n spoke after clearing her eyes. “Is this some fucked up dream? Wait? A wet dream!?” She asked out loud, still thinking she was dreaming until she noticed the silence between them, making the music from downstairs seem louder.

“You have wet dreams about us?” Wade asked, breaking the silence. “No,” she dragged, but she was already caught. “Oh my god, girl, tell me about it. Were you with us, or was it just me and Logan fuckin’ it out?” Wade asked as he jumped on her bed, kicking his feet in the air like some little girl's sleepover.

“N-Neither,” she lied. “You hear that, grumpy!? There’s a woman in this universe who rubs one out for ya -- Please be gentle, he gets a bit — sensitive when it comes to — sex,” Wade whispered, but not low enough for Logan to not hear.

“Man, get up. You’re makin’ the lady uncomfortable,” Logan said as he stepped towards the bed. “Or, you can lay down with us and we can cuddle?” Wade said, offering a once-in-a-lifetime offer.

“I need to think. Not about the threesome you’re hinting at, but about this. About Wolverine and Deadpool in my house. At my party. In my room. One on my bed,” y/n’s brain scrambled everywhere.

“How about my place?” Wade suggested. Y/n thought about her party, but her roommates would figure it out without her.

It’s been months since the party incident. Now the three are close and good friends. Even though Logan’s grumpy literally every second of the day, y/n grew to like it. His personality was one of the best things about him.

“Well, I have a date tonight, so move this party to Wade’s place down the hall. Don’t wanna come back to you guys gettin’ it on in my kitchen,” Wade stood at his door.

Y/n turned her head from the movie she was watching and Logan sighed, getting up from the dining room chair.

Even though they barely sit close to each other, Wade knows they’re destined to be together. They have to. If they don’t, he’ll have to run away to a universe where they are.

“I can actually go home now. It’s gettin’ kind of late,” y/n said as she got up, walking towards the front door with Logan. “Oh, no, it’s too late for you to drive. You also drank,” Logan said, making up some excuses for whatever reason.

“I barely drank my cup. I think I’m good, Logan,” she said as she walked out of Wade's apartment. Logan stayed silent, about to let her walk away because he’s always had a problem with showing how much he cares for someone whether that was being lovers, friends, or family.

“Logan go get her. Don’t let her walk away,” Wade yelled whispering at the man. “It’s fine — She said she wanted to go home,” Logan said as he walked out of Wade’s front door, watching y/n walk down the hall.

“If she walks away and gets ran over, robbed, or killed, that’s the story you made for yourself in the universe,” Wade tried scarring the man. Logan leaned over Wade, teeth stuck together as he growled at him in anger.

“Y/n!” Logan shouted as he jogged over to Y/n, softly grabbing her wrist to turn her around. “I’d like for you to stay. I-I’m actually not gonna let you leave,” Logan’s grip slightly tightened.

“Drinking and driving isn’t safe,” he added, making Wade sigh down the hall. “Well, at least you tried. See ya — Damn children. I always get stuck with the children!” Wade said before taking the stairs down, leaving Y/n and Logan alone in the halls.

“I barely drank, Logan,” y/n said with a slight smirk, knowing he’s too big of an emotional keeper to make him say exactly what he wants just now. She had to work for it, and she had time.

“You still drank. Don’t need ya gettin' pulled over then callin’ me to bail you out. I don’t even pay for rent. The owner's a fan,” Logan pulled y/n into him, placing both hands on her hips.

“I wouldn’t call you. I’d call my friends,” y/n kept playing around with him. “And who is that? Those boys you call your roommates? Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “I had female friends too — But it seems like you’re stuck on the men. You jealous, big boy?” She asked.

“Oh, what? Them? Why would I be, when you’re right here with me,” Logan's lips were now inches from her. “But you’re not makin a-“ y/n went to call him out until she felt a tight grip on her neck.

“Quit playing with me, bub. It’s kind of pissin’ me off,” he admitted. The thought of her being around her male roommates has been bothering him for a while, but of course, he never said anything.

Before she could say another word, Logan grabbed her arm and pulled her towards his apartment door, unlocking it and then closing it right after he pulled her in.

“Guess Wade was right,” Logan pushed y/n against his door, trapping her. It’s not like she wanted to leave, anyway. “He would’ve caught me fuckin’ you on his kitchen counter,” Logan finished before his lips attached to hers.

Y/n moaned at how needy he kissed her. He kissed and sucked on her lip and tongue like he’s been waiting for years, which is impossible, but he has been waiting for months.

“Need these lips on mine more often,” Logan said before moving down to her neck, sucking hard. He wanted to make sure her roommates knew what she was doing when she hung out with him.

“Fuck,” the young lady moaned as her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the roots. The man growled, feeling the instant rush to mark her in many different ways tonight.

Without asking, Logan lifted y/n up by her thighs, making her wrap her legs around his huge waist. He pressed her into the door, still a bit upset about her comment about her male roommates.

“Do they make you feel this good?” He asked as he pressed his crotch in between her legs to rub it up against her covered heat. “Do they!?” He pressed against her harder.

“I don’t even fuck with them!” Y/n whined as his mouth sucked on to different parts of her neck. “You better not be lying to me,” Logan leaned back, looking directly into her eyes.

“If I eat this cunt and I smell any man on it, Ima fuck your brains out,” he said before pulling y/n off of the door and carrying her to his room.

“T-That’s not fair! I-I’m not even a virgin, so you’re gonna smell someone!” She said as he threw her on his bed. The man shook his head with a chuckle as he got undressed. Y/n watched him, feeling herself grow more wet than she already was.

“Well, isn’t that a shame, princess,” he said as he took his jeans off, shaking his huge print through his boxers. Her heart stopped at the size. He was thick and long. Wade wasn’t lying when he told her the story about the one time he accidentally caught him in the shower.

“L-Logan,” she spoke as he slowly crawled over her, smirk growing wider. “Don’t worry, Bub. If you pass out, I’ll wake ya right back up with a hard thrust,” y/n shivered m in fear but more lust. She wanted it. She wanted him.

Logan slowly pulled Y/n’s clothes off, adding kisses along her body with it. He loved every inch of her. He dreamt of kissing all over her body for months.

She thought that after the night when he thought she was Storm, he’d see no interest in her, but he did. He saw more. He saw a new beginning with someone else.

Wade talked to him about moving in, and it was hard when he first got here, but running into y/n made that impossible seem possible.

“I smell someone on you,” Logan broke the silence. “B-But-“ she tried saying. “What did I say if I smelled another man on you, princess?” He asked, but she stayed silent. “That I’ll fuck that pretty little mind dumb, right?” he asked again.

“Don’t make me repeat myself again,” he said, face now inches from hers. She could see how sharp his teeth were. He looked like he wanted to eat her alive. “Y-Yes! Yes, that’s what you said,” she stuttered as her cunt throbbed.

“Yeah, so what do I have to do now, bub?” He asked as his tip grazed across her lips. “F-Fuck me dumb,” she said low, making me grin evilly. “You’re damn right,��� Logan forcefully slammed into the non-mutant. She was the right one, but he made it work.

“Fuuuck, yes,” he growled as his eyes rolled back. He knew she’d feel amazing. “C-Cumming,” she cried out, already on the edge. Logan chuckled as he thrust his hips, watching her cum coat his cock.

“That’s right — Wash those other dirty men you spread your whore cunt to. Wash them out!” Logan snapped his hips harder than before, knocking the wind out of y/n.

She loved rough sex, but this was a different level. This wasn’t even the worst he could do to her. Sage could only imagine what this would feel like if he used her toys and ropes.

“Ssh — I know you love this,” Logan’s voice seemed so close, yet so far. She was blacking out, and the hand he had just wrapped around her neck didn’t make it better.

“That’s it, baby. So fuckin’ pretty when you’re passed out. I kinda knew that on our first encounter,” he said, remembering when he first saw her. She was so damn fine, but he couldn’t admit to it shush then.

“Wake up!” Logan pulled his hips all the way back, letting his tip free before plunging right back in her with his loud words.

Y/n woke back up, instantly a whiny mess. “T-Too much,” she cried out, but he ignored her and begged for him to slow down. Instead, he looked at her neck, tasting her skin as he kept pounding into her, balls deep because he knew she needed it like that.

“You’re gonna take me -- Make Wade proud,” Logan whispered, feeling himself come close. He wanted to fill her up. He wanted to keep her forever. He wanted to trap her. If he wasn’t so obsessed with making sure she was happy, he would lock her up in his dark room to keep her away from any danger.

“Take me, baby,” Logan moaned in her neck, muscles flexing as he spilled into her cunt. She squeezed him, sucking him for everything he had. “That’s it — That’s fuckin’ it, Bub,” he slowly stroked into her, loving the feeling of both of their juices mixing together. He knew for sure he’d dream about the sounds too.

[crownmemes]

Advice; Everyone Should Be Making the First Move

There's been a trend within the rpc here for years now where nobody is willing to make the first move. The problem with this is that if nobody ever makes the first move, then nobody is ever going to write anything. Considering that, everybody should be making an effort to be the first one to reach out to their writing partners more often.

Examples of making the first move:

Sending an IM to say hi, then suggesting a plot

Sending a meme to start a new thread

Responding to starter calls and open starters

All of this is just as valid for old partners as it is for new. If you haven't written with someone in a while, maybe it's time to reach out to start a new thread?

The most common reason I see for people not making the first move is social anxiety. I'm going to give you all a bit of tough love here: speaking as somebody who once had crippling social anxiety (and still does in irl settings), the best way to overcome it is to push yourself to try the things that make you anxious.

Communicating with people is a really important part of rp because it's not a solo hobby, therefore you are going to have to talk to people at some point. It's unavoidable. Here are a few reminders to help you feel a little less nervous:

If somebody follows back, they're doing it because they're interested in writing with you. They are not going to be upset if you send them an IM with plot ideas

Most people are friendly! In 12 years of rping on this site, I can count on one hand the number of people who I've talked to that were actively rude to me

It's okay if someone says no to you! People have different styles and not all of them will work together. If someone says no, say thank you for the consideration, then move on. There are more people to write with out there

If somebody is nasty to you, you can block them. Don't be afraid to do this; you don't have to explain yourself, and you wouldn't want to write with someone who's rude to you anyway

If you're not sure what to say, I usually go with a version of "Hello! Thank you for following/following back! I've looked through your rules and about pages. Would you be interested in plotting something for X and my character, Y? I have an idea already, if you would like to hear?"

Don't just say "Hi!". Cut to the chase and tell them why you're messaging so they immediately know what the conversation is about

Reasons why it's good to message first:

You look actively interested in writing. This is a huge boost in your favour when it comes to asking to write with someone

It makes it a lot easier to get new interactions

It makes you appear more active

If you're a new blog, you won't have a lot of examples of your writing on your blog yet. People will be more willing to give you a chance if you approach them first

If you don't message first, you are likely to be waiting a long time before somebody messages you

It's easier to make friends if you have an active conversation!

Some other thoughts on messaging first:

You have followed the person because you are interested in writing with them. Think about why you are interested, and suggest this as a plot idea

Make sure you read through the rules still. It's very obvious when you haven't. Also, look through the muses on offer so you can suggest which you'd like to write with

If the rules say they're not mutuals only, or that you're welcome to IM to introduce yourself if you want to plot, don't be afraid to message. They wouldn't have put that in their rules if they didn't mean it

If someone is reblogging memes, it's because they want to write responses to them. Send them in! If they didn't want them sent in, they wouldn't have reblogged the meme

IMing to plot is often a better idea than liking a starter call or sending memes if you have never interacted with the person before. It gives you a chance to work out what kind of thread would work well before you start something, so the resulting thread has a lower chance of fizzling out quickly

However, all that being said, it's not just up to the person messaging first to make all the effort. If the receiver doesn't put any effort in in return, then the person making the first move is going to think they aren't interested. Eventually, they may give up messaging people at all, because what's the point if it never goes anywhere? Some tips for not seeming uninterested:

If someone IMs you, try to reply to them in a timely fashion. Especially try to reply to them if they sent you a plot idea. You don't have to agree to do the idea - it's just very annoying to be ghosted the second you actually start plotting

Suggest your own plot ideas in return, or build on the idea that the other person has given you

If you agree to write a starter, or one is written for you, follow through with it. Write the starter, reply to the thread. If it's going to take a while, let your writing partner know that you've seen it but you're going to be slow for a while

Similarly, if you post memes, reply to the ones people send you. If you never reply, people will pick up on this and eventually stop sending you things

If you go on hiatus, message your writing partners directly when you get back to let them know you'd like to write again. This will demonstrate that you really are active and ready to write again

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Carole Lombard (To Be Or Not To Be, My Man Godfrey)— One of the most stunningly beautiful and glamorous people of the golden age of Hollywood, and also one of the funniest. She wasn't afraid to be over-the-top and undignified to get a laugh. And legend has it she managed to fend off the unwanted advances of Fredric March by wearing a strap-on in her dressing room and freaking him the hell out when he tried to seduce her. She was a total legend.

Leonor Maia (The Tyrannical Father)— She didn't do a lot of movies but in The Tyrannical Father she is so pretty and charming that there's a guy who's obsessed with her to such a degree he is still a meme 80 years later. Her character's name is Tatão and the guy would stare at her whenever she was there and say her name to the tune of everything. A clock ticking: ta-tão, ta-tão, ta-tão. And to this day one of the lines people know the best from that very quotable movie is "ta-tão". She inspired crushes and horniness of legendary levels.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Carole Lombard:

She was an amazing actress that I think has become a bit underrated due to her early death. Stellar comedic actress with great dramatic potential, loved hanging around with the crew on set and swore up a storm. I only saw my first movies of hers a little over a year ago and I've been obsessed with watching as many of them as I can find since then. She has this monologue in Hands Across the Table that I had to rewind and watch again because her performance of it was so good.

She defined what it was to be a comedic actress in the 1930s, starring in a bunch of screwball comedies that still hold up. She was married to two certified Hot Vintage Actors, William Powell and Clark Gable, but tragically died at 33 in a plane crash following a war bond rally in 1942. She was the love of Gable’s life, and although he married a couple of more times, he was buried beside her when he died.

Incredibly foul-mouthed, had a habit of stripping in front of gay male costars and loudly wondering why they cared, never wore a bra (and rarely panties), was always yelling about how based the New Deal was.

She was gorgeous and a comedy genius! She could have chemistry with a rock!

[notaplaceofhonour]

re: last reblog about antizionism being leftists’ “permission” to treat Jews as their designated punching bag, it made me think of an interaction I had when someone I know shared a meme that was ostensibly making fun of White ppl but was rooted in an antisemitic conspiracy theory. they were thankfully receptive, took it down, & apologized when I explained why it was antisemitic, but they explained the reason they shared it was that they thought it was funny to dunk on Italians

and like? this is a surprisingly common thing with leftists? they seem to think it’s cute & cheeky to be “ironically” racist against Italians because they’re White so “it doesn’t count”; it’s quaint Old Timey Racism™️, not real racism. See, it’s actually fine, because it’s punching up! And that kind of thing hasn’t sat right with me for a while, I just haven’t known how to explain that that’s bullshit enough to push back against it. but I think that interaction really solidified my distaste for the entire “punching up” brand of humor.

it’s easy now to see the bridge between that “teehee it’s funny to be ‘racist’ against Italians because they’re actually white so it doesn’t count” and the recent “antisemitism anti-Zionism isn’t really racism because the Jews I hate are actually white so it doesn’t count”. I don’t know that it’s actually the same in effect, but it is so easy to get people to jump from one to the other based around that logic. It’s so easy to convince yourself “it’s fine to be hateful this time, against this ethnicity”

but also, like… why would you want to treat people like that? any group of people?