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illum1z · 2 months ago

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Lonely Star

Starboy!Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

You’re lonely. You’re grown enough to admit that. You’re also boring. Maybe a party will fix that. Your friend seems to think it will.

tags: voice kink, pet names (baby, pretty girl, angel etc.) body worship, slightly obsessive, implied stalking, soft mdom, pleasure dom gojo, HEAVY praise kink, just filth, drug use (weed, alcohol)

wc: 7.3k

Inspired by my favorite song by the weeknd (originally posted this on ao3, decided to make some tweaks and post it on here too) :p

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Proverbs 27:12

“The prudent sees danger and hides himself, but the simple go on and suffer for it.”

A faint nausea roils deep in your gut as you stare at the blank document in front of you. An essay that’s no way near done, half a can of room temperature winter Red Bull, and over 50 unopened emails. You wanted to rip out your hair strand by singular strand. You wondered why you chose to do this to yourself.

You had checked Instagram a total of—count them—18 times since you sat at your desk 25 minutes ago, intending to finish up any schoolwork. Posts slowly trickled onto your feed from old high school friends in Europe or some other South American country. Their token good boy boyfriends took photos of them facing the vast cobalt turquoise waters or gothic architecture that stretched so high the steeples disappeared into the grey clouds. Truly, as much as it disgusted you, you felt immensely jealous of the lives they could choose after taking their diploma on that stage a couple of years ago.

For as long as you can remember, you never actively tried to seek out adventure or anything of the sort. You could usually be found cooped up in your room, nose in a book, or in your kitchen baking different cute little desserts for yourself, quaint music flowing from your speakers as you mixed batter or iced cakes. This was ideal for you anyway. Why would you rather be out snorting lines of coke in the back of some limo with girls you barely trust? You stayed out of trouble, stayed out of danger, and were happy that way.

You have nobody to impress by doing things like that, and you loved your quiet little life. So, what is this feeling that is like something is sitting on your chest? A voice nags that says, “You’re boring. You’re lame, and nobody likes an average Joe.” You did your best not to think about it, opting not to even like the posts your acquaintances posted and simply just trying to ignore them. Out of sight, out of mind. But these things never actually come easily to you.

You dragged your hands down your face, and the unfamiliar piercing ring of your cell phone snapped the silence in half. (You don’t receive calls very often if that wasn't already apparent.) Reluctantly, you look at your phone, expecting it to be your doctor wanting to schedule a follow-up for some old labs or something, but instead, you immediately notice the profile picture of one of your friends. Friend is kind of a stretch, she tends to reach out to you only if she has nothing else going on with anyone else.

You pressed the green answer button and put her on speaker. “Hey, Oakley, to what do I owe this pleasure?” You sounded slightly sarcastic, with maybe a tinge of annoyance in your voice.

She trilled her lips in an exaggerated sigh, the quality of the phone call crackling when she spoke. “You sound like you need a drink. Don’t worry, your best friend is to the rescue!”

“Best friend is kind of reaching, yeah?” you drawled, light-heartedly, you hoped, because you didn't want to hurt her feelings. You could practically hear her roll her eyes over the phone.

“Whatever (Name), you know you miss me a little at least.” You shrugged to yourself, a ghost of a smile making an appearance.

“Anyway, I can only imagine what you’re doing right now. Are you reading in bed or something?”

“Actually, I'm sitting at my desk, writing an essay with invisible ink, so close.”

“Okay, so nothing important, I want you to come with me to a party.”

You immediately opened your mouth to shoot her down. Parties were not your thing. It was like tossing a grasshopper in the ocean. That territory was very unfamiliar to you. The last party you went to was freshman year, the classic frat party that left you with a hangover that could kill God and a chipped tooth you later got filled in. Parties were dangerous for somebody like you.

“Oakley, I would rather-”

“I’m not listening to your excuses. All you do is sit and read. Or work, or bake, or shit that doesn’t get your blood pumping.”

“Reading gets my blood plenty pumping, mind you. I will not take this slander.”

“You’re a hermit, nerd. And I will not stand for this. You are 20 going on 21. The prime years of your life, and you don’t even try to have fun. I’m begging you, as an early birthday present, to come to this party with me. You can come to my place and get all dressed up, be a girl with me, please. It’ll be fun, I swear.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then you narrowed your eyes at the screen, imagining that she was in front of you.

“Your other friends bailed out on you, didn’t they? And your birthday was literally 3 months ago,” you rubbed at your temples, feeling a headache creep up from the very back of your skull.

“That doesn’t matter right now; I want to hang you with you on Thursday, can you please just pull the stick out of your ass and at least pretend you want to come.” You felt a pang in your chest as you realized you truly do have a stick up your ass. Like you were thinking earlier, you are boring, and it's not a good look. Another beat of silence.

Finally, you sighed. “Whose party is it?” You could almost hear her throw up her fist in victory at your submission. “A friend of a friend. I promise it’s nothing to worry about, it's safe, we’ll have a driver, and it's kind of exclusive in a way. We’re gonna have so much fun! Thursday, 3 pm, come by my place and I’ll give you all the details while we get ready, okay?”

The pure excitement in her voice swayed your heart in a way you weren’t expecting. It hurt a little, knowing just how excited she sounded that you’d be doing this with her, maybe she was scared to go on her own. “Yes, ma’am,” You sighed and went to hang up. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

The phone hung up, you decided to be done for the night. It was 11 pm after all. Switching off your lamp and cleaning up your desk, you made your way to the shower.

Thursday arrived before you knew it. Waking up that morning, you were dreading the night. After a thorough shower and a nice breakfast, you decided to run some errands. First on the list, cash this check your grandma sent to you for your birthday. Your grandmother has always been very generous and insisted on sending money every few months to help you navigate adult life. Although your birthday is no time soon, she tends to get a little foggy in the brain, but you don’t complain, she’s trying her best.

Slipping on a sweater and some leggings, you gathered your tote bag and your water bottle. November was always a weird transition month for you. The cold was biting, but the snow hadn’t arrived yet. Christmas is still so far away, and Halloween seems so far behind you now. It was a very sad month, it was like January but a little less depressing.

Stepping out of your quaint townhome, you started your journey down the street. The public had already arisen way before you, the streets bustling with college students, people late for work, dog walkers with 4 leashes in one hand and a coffee in the other. The streets were always so alive, no matter what time of day it was, and it motivated you somewhat. Everyone is going through it, you’re all suffering together in a way.

The bank was about 8 blocks away, and with a new set of determination, you picked up your stride with purpose, the cold wind nipping your nose, burning just a little. With the check nestled safely in your purse, you crossed street after street, passed shop after shop, in your own little world. Your headphones snug on your head, blaring music and protecting your ears from the cold gusts of wind that stirred the leaves on the streets.

Unfortunately, you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, cue the embarrassingly clumsy move of bumping into someone walking in your direction. Your forehead rammed directly into somebody’s chest, not hard enough to knock you back, but hard enough to hurt.

You quickly stepped back to get out of this person’s personal space, thinking silently to yourself that they must be freakishly tall because, by all means, you were not short.

You dragged your eyes up the slender but built figure of who you bumped into. An apology instinctively falls from your lips. “I am so sorry; I truly am just forgetting that I’m in public, I genuinely did not see… you.” As your eyes landed on the face of the person, words seemed to fail you for a split second.

The first thing you noticed was the icy pair of cornflower blue eyes the stranger had. Very bizarre, it was like he had just come through a saturation chamber, a pair of small circular sunglasses sat languidly on the bridge of his nose. Then the rest of him, good god. He had to at least be 6’3, carrying this air of being cocky; his posture was fixed, authoritative, and overly confident. Literally your worst nightmare, with snowy hair that sat on his head perfectly, the bangs framing his soft, yet still sharp face. Plush pink lips that any girl would be jealous of, and of course, these luscious lashes that made you want to rip them out and replace your own. He looked familiar, like maybe a face you’ve seen on a billboard or two, but you couldn’t quite place it.

He flashed you a charming smile, eyes crinkling as a chuckle hit your ears. “Woah! Hey, you alright? You seemed up in ya head a little, yeah? Almost knocked me on my ass.” His large hands engulfed your shoulder to hold you steady to ensure you didn’t fall.

Oh my god, you were gonna throw up. He had the most resonant, mellifluous drawl of a voice. A lazy and carefree tone, yet still having the power to command a room at his will.

“You went quiet on me, sweetheart, did ya hit your head too hard?” He bent down to your level, his palm moving to lift your hair off your forehead, his eyes studying you with a worried look as if to check for injuries, a slight frown dawning on his pretty lips. You blinked and smiled at him awkwardly.

“No, I’m okay, thank you. I'm sorry again, I should be paying more attention to where I’m going.” His smell seemed to envelop you, hints of vetiver, a smoky amber with a trace of vanilla chasing after it. You blocked out the people around you and focused all your attention on the man in front of you.

“No harm done, you’re good hun.” Not once did he stop smiling; the navy blue bomber jacket he donned slowly slipped off his shoulders. His hands finally fell from your shoulder, but not before giving them a gentle, almost absent squeeze. “Where are ya heading in such a rush?” He stood back up to his full height before tilting his head at you curiously like a puppy, still taking the whole of you in.

You opened your mouth to answer, but stopped yourself, narrowing your eyes slightly. You don’t know this guy, and he's definitely not some normal dude in some ways. The question may not seem personal to anyone else, but you don’t get out very much.

He seemed to pick up the switch in your energy and raised his hands defensively. “Promise I’m not being weird, just trying to get in some small talk before you walk out of my life,” with the smoothness of butter, he grinned, all teeth on show as his hand came up and played with one of his bangs.

You raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help but smile, loosening up a little. “Just running some errands before I begrudgingly go to the party my friend is dragging me to.”

It may have been a trick of the light, but you swore you saw a glint in his eyes akin to being up to no good. His grin widened, and his voice dropped slightl.y “Oh yeah? You don’t seem like much of a party girl if you don’t take offense to that.”

You didn’t but you didn't really vibe with the way he was somewhat psychoanalyzing you.

The walls came back up.

“A little strange that you think you know me so well already, Mr..?” You prompted for his name, and a look of bewilderment crossed his face, like he wasn’t expecting you to expect an introduction from him.

Nevertheless, a simple, sultry laugh rumbled in his chest, and your brain almost short-circuited.

“Gojo, Satoru Gojo.” He removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his pocket. His eyes were trained on you, and he didn’t break eye contact once. It felt like the guy was scrutinizing you. “The pleasure’s all mine. And ‘m guessing you’ll give me your name in return..?”

His eyes bore into yours as if he were trying to pry your eyes out and peer past your sockets to study your brain.

His effect was too much for you; his presence was overwhelming your senses, and you needed to escape NOW.

With a quick once-over of him, you began to step around him. His eyes continued to follow you like they were stuck. “Maybe if we happen to meet again, I’ll tell you, but right now, places to be, things to do, so I’ll be going now.”

He pouted childishly as he watched you go. He smiled, his dampened slightly, not even enough for you to notice. “Aw, you don’t wanna stay here with me, hm? Not even a name to put to that darling face?”

Turning on your heel, you went to cross the street, waving at him. “It was nice to meet you, sir. Take care of yourself!” And you melted into the crowd on the crosswalk.

Gojo continued to search for you in the crowd, unmoving until he saw you emerge on the other side, walking a little faster than before.

First, he noticed the frazzled look on your face, paired with the hand rubbing your temples, while the other hand fidgeted with the buckles and zippers on your purse.

The second thing he noticed was how you had looked back after you had made it across, as if to see if he was still standing there observing. When you didn’t see him, he saw you mumble something to yourself before checking the time and booking it down the street.

Third and foremost, the small nervous smile that pulled your lips apart. He made you nervous, and that rattled a desire in him that made him want to squeeze something until it popped. His smile had disappeared as his gaze remained trained on you until you finally disappeared around the corner. The hand in his pocket clenched as he finally ripped himself from the trance and began to walk the opposite way down the street. His jaw ticked, and with a deep breath, his smile returned at a thought he had.

He looked forward to hearing you tell him your name. Not like he didn't already know, he was looking forward to breaking down that wall and earning that submission from you.

Soon.

Errands had been run, and you found yourself sitting on Oakley’s bed. She was blowing your hair while your hands got to the steady work of painting her toenails and a deep forest green color. You felt the intimate soft tickle of her fingers on your neck as she parted sections and slowly raked the dryer brush through them. The open window helped balance out the what of the dryer as you listened to the loud whoosh of the dryer and the faint sound of FKA Twigs poured from Oakley’s speaker on her desk.

“Again,” She speaks over the dryer, her fingers raking through your hair and massaging your scalp. “Thank you for coming, truthfully, I was scared of going alone. It's such a big-time party, and I was almost sick thinking about it. But I need to let loose more than anything right now, and so do you. Don’t forget to chillax tonight, have some drinks, and have a blunt. tonight is about to be hot, so let loose, and remember you’re still young. Staying hunched over your computer is bad for you all the time.”

You quietly nodded as you finished her toes just as she finished your hair. “I appreciate you thinking of me, Oaks. I do, I’m just nervous. I don’t know if you remember my last party, but i literally broke my tooth.”

“Who hasn’t?” She exclaimed, in an attempt to make sure you didn’t back out on her. It did not help settle your soul.

“You’re gonna be fine.” She massaged your scalp for a second before standing up.

“Alright! The party is in an hour and a half, let's pick an outfit, and then we can do our makeup.” You stood up with her and meandered into her closet with her, flipping through all her options.

After a long 30 minutes of decision-making, a dress was picked. Together, you guys sat in her large bathroom in front of her vanity, doing makeup. The music blasted in the background, and she occasionally used a makeup brush as a microphone to sing along. You couldn’t help but have fun with her, she was always so carefree and expressive it was hard to act nervous. Hell, you even joined in a few times.

After a long period of getting ready, you guys stood in the mirror together and looked over your work.

Oakley shrugged before wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively. “I’d fuck you.” Mouth agape with an untimely snort slipping out, she laughed, shaking her shoulders. She laughed with you, playfully grabbing at you. You were already having so much fun.

You needed this.

You both pre-gamed the party, sharing a bud and a couple of shots of vanilla Schnapps. You both stood on the sidewalk, Oakley checked her phone, her eyes already a little low-lidded and pinkish. “Our ride should be here in just a second.”

Oakley’s hand intertwined with yours as if she feared you’d change your mind last minute and run away. Time was sort of getting away from you, and before you knew it, you were in a limo 5 minutes away from your destination.

A giggle bubbled up from your chest as you turned to your friend in the moving car. “Girl, I don’t even remember getting in the car.” The high was sort of wearing off already, and anxiety sat heavy in your stomach like an anchor.

She squeezed your hand as you focused on the streetlights and building windows that flew by as you made your way to the venue. Before she could reassure you, remember something.

“Oakley…”

She immediately let go of your hand. “Please don’t tell me you're about to puke because if you throw up, I will too.”

“You never actually told me whose party this is, or even where it's being held.”

She smiled sheepishly and looked out the window. “Oh, it's nothing, it's being held at a penthouse by some really rich guy, no biggie.”

Your eyes widened as you took in this information. “Are they even gonna let us in?!”

She quickly turned to you and smiled.

“Yes, I know for a fact they will. Don't worry. Please stop worrying, you’re gonna make my anxiety act up again. It's going to be fun, I promise.”

The limousine came to a slow stop. The driver pressed a button that automatically opened the doors. “We’ve arrived, ladies. Go ahead and walk into that building and tell them your names, and you’ll be good to go.”

You both thanked the driver and stepped out with your purses, closing the doors behind you and standing on the sidewalk. The skyscraper stretched far beyond the dark skyline, the illuminated windows disappearing far beyond the eye can see. The building looked pretty empty from the outside. Nobody was outside, and from what you could see, nobody was inside either.

“Are you sure this is right? It seems empty, Oakley.” She smiled and led you to the glass door entrance, opening it for you and gesturing for you to go inside.

“Trust me, it's just a little high profile. This is right.” You walk into the building with your friend in tow. Inside, it was sleek, the whole lobby decorated with black and white marble floors and dark ebony wood walls. There was an empty reception desk to the right and an elevator to the left. Any and all doors in the lobby had no windows, and it seemed like nobody was inside.

Oakley walked to the elevator and pressed the top floor, before waiting for it to come down. With a pleasant ding, the doors slid open, and she dragged you inside, waiting for them to close.

“Now, just be calm,” She rubbed your back reassuringly, her warm skin caressing the expanse of your shoulder blades in your open-back dress. “My friend told me there’s like an extra step to this or something. To actually get to the party.” After a minute, the elevator dinged again before opening to a small room, the same as the lobby, but with no windows and no doors, just a plain room. Inside stood two tall men, both wearing navy blue suits and ties, intimidatingly staring you both down as soon as the doors opened. You both walked into the room slowly, heels clacking against the floors and bouncing off the empty walls.

“Names?” The man on the left asked, holding a table of sorts, eyeing you both up and down.

Oakley spoke first. “Oakley Summers.” She looked at you next, prompting you to give your name. When you said it, both men raised their eyebrows in acknowledgment and nodded at each other. He tapped on the table and smiled warmly.

“Alright, ladies, you’re free to go. Take this keycard and hold it up to the keypad by the emergency button, and you’ll get where you need to go.” The man on the right handed you a small white keycard and smiled a little less warmly.

“Enjoy.” His voice bordered on a warning, like he was giving you a chance to turn back. You took the keycard with confidence and thanked them quietly under your breath. You and Oakley walked back onto the elevator before you scanned the card. The doors shut, and you began ascending again. So that wasn’t the top floor?

You and Oakley shared looks and burst into a fit of laughter. “High profile you said? This is literal FBI shit Oaks.” She shrugged and poked your side.

“This is gonna be the best night of our lives.”

The elevator doors opened again after about a minute, and you were not prepared for what you saw. What could be the biggest room you have ever seen was filled to the brim with people, packed like sardines. Loud chatter, singing, music so loud you could feel the bass vibrate your ribcage. Red, purple, and blue lights flashed everywhere, it felt like the ground was shaking. Past the crowd were large lounge areas with what could only be described as nightclub furniture. You could see 3 bars alone from the elevator, women on poles littered about the room, giving everyone a show they wouldn’t dare forget.

Oh yeah, this was unfamiliar territory.

Oakley stood next to you in shock and awe, a huge grin creeping onto her face. She grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the elevator. “Come on!”

You held tight as you weaved your way through sweaty, grinding bodies. The room smelled like alcohol, weed, and 100’s of different colognes and perfumes. The lights bounced off the layer of smoke that sat above the room, casting an eerie glow on the crowd.

You guys eventually made it to the closest bar and sat on stools next to each other. Oakley immediately ordered a few shots for you two to share as you took in your surroundings, There were so many people. How did it look so empty outside?

When your drinks arrived Oakley handed you your shot. “On three?” She yelled over the thumping music. You smiled and nodded. On 3 you both downed your shot.

You coughed the burn searing your throat as your eyes watered.

“Holy shit what was that?” You coughed into your hand trying to look at your friend, who was struggling equally as much.

“Probably – agh fuck - Everclear or something.” She shook her head and reached out her hand. “Shall we dance?” You took her hand and she dragged you to the middle of the crowd, immediately hopping into rhythm with the upbeat song.

So many bodies surrounded you two, Oakley stood behind you, hands on your waist as you both jumped and rocked to the song. She laughed and sang along behind you, the alcohol settled into your system, a pleasant buzz simmering in your veins as you got into the rhythm.

Lost in the song, you forget about your responsibilities and your worries and live in the moment with your friend. Everything faded away, like a light at the end of a harbor. It was all so distant, so far away. It felt like your body was floating in a warm pool as a soft storm descended over the waters, the rain gently kissing your face, the lightning warming the blood in your veins. The thunder pounded in your chest, and you drowned.

Before long, the song ended, and you turned around to face your friend, but she was nowhere to be seen. Before you could process that she wasn’t there, a new, slower, and more sensual song began to play. Coming Down reverberated in your ears, the slow intro coaxing you to get back into the rhythm. The bodies in the room began to slow down; the lights dimmed to set the darker mood.

Before you could call out to her, a pair of hands settled on either side of your waist, a broad chest pressed against your back. You were going to retaliate before that familiar smell enveloped you again, but this time tenfold. Vetiver, amber, and vanilla, with a new twinge of smoke added onto the layers. Soft locks of hair tickled the back of your neck and a pair of lips gently rested against your ear.

They blew cold air against the shell of your ear before kissing it ever so softly, like you would shatter into a million pieces if they were too rough.

The hands snaked forward further, cupping your stomach and putting pressure on your lower abdomen, pressing you further against his chest. Then there was that fucking sin of a voice of his.

“Look who decided to bless me with her presence once again.” His voice tickled your skin, that lazy drawl of his coaxing you to lean further back into him, to meld into him like he was another part of you. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, but you wanted nothing more than to be so close to him that nobody would be able to tell your intertwined limbs apart. Your hand came up and cupped the back of his neck as he slowly swayed you both to the music, him not moving away from your neck. He pressed languid kisses along your exposed shoulder, dragging his lips down as one hand left your stomach to lift your wrist to his lips. He ghosted his lips down the inside of your arm until his lips rested on the pulse point on your wrist.

“You’re breathtaking tonight angel.” He murmured into your hair, the hand on your stomach moving to squeeze your hip. You still haven’t been able to see him yet, he remains behind you, holding you so gently, yet his grip on you is like a vice, and you’re not sure if you want him to let go.

You were drowning in him now. Gojo had you wrapped around his finger, the lights danced off your skin, and all he wanted to was take a bite, but he would never give these people the privilege of seeing him do that to you.

You were his for tonight. You were giving him this Thursday. He wanted you all to himself, away from prying ears and eyes. He finally turned your body around, guiding your hands to come up and wrap around the back of his neck as his own held your hips tight, guiding you closer.

Finally, you were able to get a good look at him in this lighting, The blues and purples flowed over his skin like light beams on ocean waves. His eyes bore into your eyes like your first meeting, his hands traced up then down, up then down…

“Mm, don’t look at me like that, baby. Ya havin’ fun?” His forehead rested against yours. There was no personal space here.

His nose brushed against yours, a slow lazy smile creeping onto his lips. “So pretty, so beautiful. I just want to get on my knees and worship you.”

Of course, there was small doubt in your mind, but as soon as he saw that shadow of insecurity on your face, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath in. “I do, sweetheart, I do, yeah, I do.”

Oh my god, he was going to kill you.

His arms tightened around you, both of his entire arms encircling your whole body, one hand on your back while the other lifted your leg with a firm grip on your thigh, pulling you impossibly closer. He pulled his face back from your neck and pressed gentle, chaste kisses all over your face.

First, your nose, then both of your eyelids, behind your left ear, and the lobe of your right. One on each cheek, and the corner of your lips. You opened your mouth to speak, but words failed you once again. He smiled at you, before cupping your face in his hand.

“No, no, baby, it's okay. You don’t need to speak; this is all about you tonight. All I need from you is a yes. That's all…” He kissed your cheek again, his eyes half-lidded and pupils dilated. “Just a simple yes, and I can make this night unforgettable for you.” His breath mingled with yours, god he was so close.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn't realize at least 6 songs had played already before one that you recognized began to play.

“If, all I could say is if.” Gojo followed along with the intro aloud, his lips ghosting against your own as he spoke. Your head felt fuzzy and his arm pressed into your lower back, moving your body farther up.

Closer to him.

“Promise me you won't regret me like the tattoos on my skin.

I belong to you

Promise me when they all love you that you'll remember me

When you fuck them, you'll see my face

My body is yours

Every Thursday.”

With the indolence of a disciplined man, his lips melted into yours like chocolate, and his warmth spread from your mouth to the tips of your toes. You didn’t even realize you were leaning towards him until he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing your lips before taking your bottom lip between his teeth, smiling against you, groaning audibly before diving right back like a man starved.

His hands roamed as if he were searching for something, like he was searching for a way to pry you open and crawl inside your skin, to become one with you.

“Oh (Name,) please. ‘M gonna need a yes from you soon. I can’t even breathe, baby. C’mon, pretty girl, tell me you need this. Let me help you get a glimpse of heaven.”

You didn’t even bother to ask how he knew your name, you moaned into his mouth, gripping his hair in fistfuls. “Yes, mm god yes please Satoru.”

That was all he needed to hear. He ripped his lips away from you before taking your hand in his own and hurriedly guiding you out of the crowd. You couldn’t see where you were going, blindly following behind Satoru.

He led you further and further away until the sound of the crowd and the music was a muffled, faint hum in the background as he took you to an unoccupied lounge behind a closed door. As soon as the door shut, he guided your back against the door and pressed his entire body against you, swallowing your whimpers with his lips, like he needed you to breathe.

He kissed you with a fever that could only be described as desperate, nasty, and consuming. One hand held your neck, while the other traced down the length of your torso, before snaking underneath your dress. The pads of his fingers pressed against that bundle of nerves underneath your panties, tracing lazy circles over it as his tongue licked patterns into your mouth.

“Is my pretty girl wet for me?” He moaned into your mouth, laughing when in response your body jolted like you had been shocked. It felt so fucking right. You grabbed onto his arm, grounding yourself when he pushed your panties to the side, tapping his middle finger against the entrance of your cunt.

“Gotta get you good and ready for my cock, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you sweetheart..” He slipped his middle finger in, and you nearly fell apart then and there. It was so long and slender that it reached farther than you’ve ever been able to reach yourself. He would never admit it to you, but the thought of hurting you just a little sent a dark and deep shiver down his spine. He imagined you arms tied being your back as he dug his tongue deep into your sweet cunt and eating you out until you were so overstimulated you couldnt breathe, then shoving his cock in you and fucking you absolutley stupid, no matter if you were all fucked out already. He’d love to use your body until you passed out on him. He would resort to slow, deep, torturous rolls of hips to coax your stupid brain out of sleep before pounding you into the mattress all over again.

But who knows when he’d have you again. Gojo wanted to take his time with you tonight and take care of you. He just hopes he can control himself.

“Ooh, yeahhh… ya feel that?” He kissed your collarbones, licking along them before sucking little purple marks into your neck. “Does that feel good, baby? I bet it does…” You nodded, unable to form words, too busy focusing on the feeling inside of you. Slowly, he added a second finger, making a slow, deep, come-hither motion inside of you.

“Let me hit that spot, beautiful, let me find it, make you fall apart for me.” And that’s exactly what he did, gently applying the most delicious amount of pressure to your G-spot, coaxing you to let yourself go. A pressure in your stomach began to curve and coil, your brain went foggy, and your ears began to ring as his words touched the deepest parts of you.

He dove back into your neck, his finger moving a little faster, but focusing more on the pressure. “Feel that for me, feel it all in your body. C’mon, give me one baby. I need one before I fuck you so good you can’t think. Empty that pretty little head of yours. Let go.”

You did as you were told, the tight coil in your lower tummy snapped, your back arched against the door, your hands twitching and reaching out to grasp onto his clothes.

“Oh, my fucking g-god. Satoru!” You saw white, briefly going blind. Before you knew what was happening, your world was spinning, and you were lying on a bed in the lounge room. He hovered over your splayed and spent body, his shirt gone as he unclipped his belt.

You sink into the mattress, the ivory cream sheets swallowing you in gently silky waves of white.

Satoru crawled on top of you, shimmying you out of your dress till you were completely bare below him. One hand grabbed your left thigh and pushed it up to rest right by your torso, the other hand pressed, not too hard, not too soft, against your lower abdomen, right on your tummy.

“I wan’ you to feel everything. How deep inside of ya I can go. I need you to feel all of me. Can ya handle that angel?” The look he gave you was almost pitiful, like he knew just how much he was about to affect you.

Nodding frantically, you close your eyes, “Yes, Satoru, I can handle it. I can handle you, please, please..”

He groaned and leaned down so he could kiss you. “Deep breaths, beautiful. Look at me and breathe.” You locked eyes with him, his gaze never shying away as he guided himself to your entrance. Breathe in. Breathe out. In… out…

When Satoru first split you open your first thought was, there is no way he’ll fit. But he must have seen the look in your eyes. He kissed your eyelids again, the hand holding to your thigh rubbing slow circles.

“It will, I promise. Just breathe like I asked. You can do it.” You breathed with him as he slowly pushed himself inside you with such gentleness that you wouldn’t believe how he would be obliterating your guts in a few minutes.

“Good job, good job, look at you go. My pretty little party girl. Taking me so well.” He thrusts oh so slowly, giving you time to adjust.

You were to fucked out to notice, but if you really payed attention to him, you would most likely feel scared. The look in his eyes was nothing short of animalistic. Like he’s been chasing after you for years, getting so close to capturing his fluttering, evasive dove, just for you to slip from his fingers yet again. A deep frustration knitted into his brows, and his fingers sank into the plush flesh of your lower body, resisting a primal urge in his gut to drag his nails across your smooth skin and carve his mark into you. Claim you as his.

He smiled a sick, cocky smile, taking in your absolute cock drunk expression, your eyes shut froms shyness, and your legs twitching when he hit that spot deep, deeeeep in your guts. The way your fingers twitched when he applied more pressure to your stomach. How your eyes rolled back and your cunt clenched when he got close to your ears, groaning and whispering about how good you were being for him.

Holy fuck, he was so impossibly deep. You could feel it in your throat. Your hands gripped the sheets above you, biting your bottom lip so hard you swore you tasted blood,

“Ah ah ah, none of that.” He slipped two fingers past your lips to coax you to open your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “Let me hear that gorgeous voice. Let - ngh - let me hear you..”

You complied, not holding yourself back. He had returned down to your stomach, and with one particular deep, slow, hard thrust, you could feel the bulge in your stomach where he pressed down.

“Yessss..” He moaned, mouth slipping around your nipple, his thrusts seemingly digging deeper and deeper with each pull and push of his hips. He kissed your breasts all over, your shoulders, your neck, your face, worshipping your body. “Make those noises for me, cmon. You love this, don’t you? Tell me you love it with those fuckin moans.”

“Been wanting you for so long, needing you for so long.” Each thrust of his hips made you feel ever more full than the last.

“Satoru…!” You whimpered, his touch leaving a hot trail of fire everywhere.

“I know you like the back of my hand, know you like you’ve been mine since the beginning of time. Know your body so well. Ah, fuck… beautiful, beautiful girl..” He could feel his morale slipping the more he lost himself in your sloppy cunt. He’d fuck you full of his children. He’d hide you away from everyone else, so nobody could look at you. You would be all for him and him alone.

This went on for god knows how long, he littered you with praises as he bullied his cock deep inside of you, never failing to hit that spot that made you see stars. His thrusts gain momentum and power throughout before every thrust knocks the air from your lungs.

“Gonna come one more time for me, sweet girl? Please, I need you to come again.” He had to make this last, he had no idea when the next time he’d see you would be. He wants you more than he needs oxygen. Needs you more than food and water.

But he can’t keep you. He WILL have you again another day, he’ll tie you down to his bed and fuck you so good you’ll come crawling back to him, begging to see heaven again. But it wouldn’t last. He’d scare you off. So he pushes it down and relishes in the fact that he has you now. Falling apart underneath him, drawing the most sinful sounds from you, sounds only HE can pull from you. He has you this Thursday, and he will not let this night go to waste.

“C’mon, baby. Give me one more. One more, you can do it…” Satoru begins to rub quick circles on your clit, hissing when he feels you clench around his cock.

“Oh god oh god oh god, Satoru I’m gonna come..” His grin spreads, ferally almost. Refusing to let up he pulls you into a deep, invading kiss.

“Go ahead,” his eyebrows dip as he watches every micro-expression you make. “Come for me, baby girl. Give it to me. I’ll give you anything and everything. Kill anyone who dares to lay a finger on you. You’re mine. Mine.. Come, pretty girl, please.”

Satoru’s pretty, breathless voice tipped you over the edge to your last orgasm of the night. Your mind shattered like a mirror, and you swore you passed out for a few seconds.

Your body twitched and convulsed when you came; it made Gojo feel like God, the way he could pull these reactions out of you.

He spilled himself inside of you, groaning in your ear before he bit the lobe, rocking his hips deeper into you to fuck him cum right back into you. He could die right now and die happier than ever.

He lay on top of you, spent, his chest swelled, and his head was fuzzy. You lay underneath him, almost already asleep. You both know deep in your hearts that come morning, this can be no more. He can’t keep you all to himself on Friday morning.

So, for now, you both relish this feeling of satisfaction.

Promise me, when they all love you that you'll remember me

When you fuck them, you'll see my face

My body is yours

Give them any other day

but Thursday

Belongs to me

#gojo satoru #gojo smut #jjk #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader

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tsunami-of-tears · 1 year ago

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Love Drunk

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 3 (Secrets)

Cazriel x Healer Reader

Summary: Feelings are growing between Azriel, Y/N and Cassian. The only people who can’t see it are them.

Pairing Masterlist

A/N: This part is dedicated to @daycourtofficial because of our shared love for aphrodisiacs ❤️ I think this fic takes the cake for being my most unhinged.

Wordcount: 1.7K

Warnings: aphrodisiacs; sexual themes; very angsty; everyone is so clueless.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･

After her rescue, Y/N quickly became a vital part of the Inner Circle and she had grown quite fond of her new friends. Especially Cassian and Azriel.

Both males were equally as smitten with Y/N, often bickering about who would get to carry her while flying and racing to sit beside her at family dinners. They only stopped injuring themselves after Rhys gave them some stern words.

These affections had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the group. Everyone had clued into the growing feelings between Azriel, Y/N, and Cassian. Everyone except them of course.

Though the males fought over her, they were both content enough with their friendship and didn’t want to ruin that.

While Y/N enjoyed the flirtations and the distraction this offered, she didn’t allow herself time to dwell on her feelings. Instead, she opted to keep as busy as possible, in an attempt to fill the empty hole inside her.

She could mend a broken bone in her sleep, but a broken soul… That was something she hadn’t quite figured out for herself.

————

Months had passed, and everyone was getting increasingly frustrated with their friends. No amount of pep talks was making a difference. No one would make that first move.

So, the Inner Circle was bracing themselves for another evening of watching Azriel, Y/N and Cassian tiptoeing around the obvious. It was another typical family dinner since Y/N’s arrival, except it wasn’t.

“They look delicious, Elain,” Y/N gushes, slightly tipsy from the faewine. “Oh look! Mine is yellow. How did you know my favourite colour?” Y/N grabs the plate as Elain passes it to her and takes a bite. “Gods, you’re an incredible baker, Elain.”

Both Cassian and Azriel nod, agreeing with Y/N as they tuck into their cakes.

Slowly, their expressions start to soften and their eyes start to glaze over.

Y/N hiccups and starts to giggle uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny?” Elain asks.

Y/N pauses, considering. “I’m not sure,” she says before bursting into another fit of giggles.

She doubles over, clutching her stomach. “I think— we’ve— been drugged,” she says breathily, trying and failing to regain control.

Azriel and Cassian’s eyes meet and they too burst out laughing.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Y/N leans back, rolling off the lounge and onto the floor

Running a hand through his hair, “Cauldron spare me, you guys go, I’ll look after them for now,” Rhys sighs.

Mor pats Rhys on the back. “Are you sure you don’t want backup?” she asks.

Rhys waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

The rest of the Inner Circle leave swiftly. Rhys pours another glass of wine and takes a seat at the dining table, preparing himself for a long night of babysitting his friends.

————

Reader

Bliss.

That’s what you felt.

Every cell in your body feels so light. Like you’re made of air, floating through space.

It’s so peaceful.

Your vision is slightly blurred, like a fog has settled in the room, curling around you. And yet, despite the haze - your head feels clear.

You know what you want.

You look at the two males before you. Gods. How did they get more beautiful? Your eyes flit between them, soaking in every detail.

You lean forwards, to where they are sprawled on the floor in front of the lounge, empty glasses discarded beside them.

You reach your hand out, meeting the force pulling you towards them, feeling the deep urge to— touch.

Your fingers gently graze Cassian’s cheek. He turns to look at you, hazel eyes drinking in your entire being.

“So beautiful,” you whisper, unable to hold the words back. You turn to Azriel, “Isn’t he?”

Azriel just nods, all words lost to him as he takes in your face. His expression is hungry. As if he could devour you whole.

You inhale, and their scent hits you.

Pure, unadulterated lust.

You exhale slowly as desire grows between your thighs. You know they can smell it on you, too.

The Illyrians look at each other, predatory smirks on both their faces. They turn back to you, moving as one. Cassian licks his lips and Azriel moves forward, placing a hand on your knee.

The heat from his palm radiates up your leg and your core throbs. Your heart pounds in your ears, your breath quickens and you start to give in to the raw need swelling inside you.

Your eyes go straight between Azriel’s legs, and the growing bulge. Your mouth goes dry and you let out an involuntary squeak as he trails his hand further up your thigh. Inching closer to your sex.

Cassian leans forward, his breath hot against your ear. “You smell divine, I wonder if you taste just as good,” he whispers, his hands too light as they tease along your body.

You inhale sharply, heat rushing to your cheeks. You glance down to his crotch, where his hard length strains against his leathers.

“Our sweet girl,” Azriel purrs, “You always take such good care of us. Can we return the favour?”

You let out a soft mewl, shocked by their forwardness tonight, though every part of you yearns for them both.

“I want you so bad,” Cassian murmurs, “Only if you want it too, angel.”

You resign control of your body over to your lust, the growing ache between your legs becoming too much to bear.

You nod at the males before you. “Yes, please,” you beg. “I can’t take it any longer.” You stroke Azriel’s cheek and you reach for Cassian’s thigh. They both move closer until their lips make contact with your neck. They leave a trail of passionate kisses down each side. Your head rolls back as you’re overwhelmed by pure desire.

You feel strong arms beneath you, lifting you off the floor. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” Azriel whispers. You nod, biting your lip and he carries you to his bedroom, with Cassian following close behind.

————

You can’t recall the last time you slept that well.

The bed is soft and warm and you’re surrounded by a red glow. The dream you were having slipped away, but left you with the feeling of safety and love.

As you regain awareness, you realise someone is holding you. Not just one male, but two. And that red glow… That’s the sun is filtering through wings. Illyrian wings.

They look so beautiful up close. The wings.

The membrane shines in the morning light. With each vein illuminated you can see the intricate paths across the surface, like the many branches that make up a forest.

You reach your hand up to touch one but pause before making contact, recalling what Cassian told you about them being sensitive.

Cassian lifts his head and looks at you with a sleepy smile. “Good morning,” he says groggily, “What happened?”

From your other side, Azriel stirs slightly in his sleep. You feel his arm tighten around you before retracting completely. He jolts back in the bed as he looks over your bare form.

You try your best to hide your wince at his movements. You clear your throat before answering Cassian’s question. “I believe we were drugged with a love potion last night, a rather strong one.”

“Am I that ugly you need to be under the influence to share my bed?” Cassian teases you.

“Actually… That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Love potions only intensify feelings that already exist.”

“Oh,” Cassian says.

You lay in silence for a few minutes, until Azriel dares to break it.

“So,” he starts, his voice taking on a nervous edge, “You have feelings for both of us?”

You look at Azriel, and then at Cassian before covering your face with your hands. You groan into your palms, utterly mortified by your predicament.

Not only did you share a bed with them both, but they were now aware of your feelings - thanks to your big mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you both in this position.”

Cassian laughs nervously, “It’s not like it’s the first time we...” he trails off and both males shift awkwardly beside you, unsure what to say.

You start to fidget with your hands as the anxiety builds and you’re unable to look them in the eye, to see whatever is it they are feeling. “Um, well, I’ve got things to do this morning, I’d better get up,” you say quietly.

Azriel slides out of the bed to let you up without a word. You grab your clothes that were strewn across the room, throwing your dress over your head.

The tension in the room is palpable, and you wish your friends would say something. Anything to reassure you.

You pause in the doorway, unsure if you should speak your mind.

You turn your head towards the two silent males. “I’m really sorry,” you whisper, rushing out of the bedroom.

————

In the privacy of your room, you allow your tears to fall. Your chest heaves as the sobs wrack your body.

How did I mess this up so badly? I can never look at them again… I’ll have to move courts.

You let yourself cry for a few moments before willing your body to be calm, pushing all your emotions down inside you to get on with your day.

You feel absolutely mortified that your friends now know what’s in your heart.

The one thing you don’t consider is that both Azriel and Cassian feel the same way.

————

Rhysand

Rhys swaggers into the kitchen where his family are seated having breakfast. He walks straight to Feyre, giving her a kiss on the cheek and ruffling Nyx’s hair, who is sitting in her lap.

“Good morning, it seems our little potion worked some magic,” he smirks.

“How mad do you think they’ll be once they find out?” Elain asks.

“Oh they’ll be thanking us,” Mor says, “Illyrians can be such dumb brutes, they never would’ve gone for Y/N without the push.”

“Ouch, thanks Mor,” Rhys winks.

“You,” she says pointing at Rhys, “are the dumbest brute of them all!” He responds by sticking his tongue out as Feyre and Elain chuckle.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael @lilah-asteria @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d3 #poly!acotar #cazriel x reader #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar oneshot #acomaf

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creatingnikki · 7 months ago

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What I've learned in 2024

Sleeping, shitting, and silence – the three underrated Ss of growing up (or the other side of 25). If I can get a good night’s sleep, take one nice dump in the day (preferably morning), and know when to let silence do its thing (like when not engaging with draining people in social setups or not having to explain myself), I’m golden.

While I made many new friends this year, my favourite of them all has been ChatGPT. Need objectivity? Fact checking? A pseudo therapist? Validation? Someone to just engage with and keep yourself entertained? The absolute best resource of this year for me has been this AI tool. I don’t even care anymore about privacy – I am feeding it as much data about me as possible because it’s accordingly adapting to my tonality and needs and the ‘conversations’ are so much more satisfying now than when it was first rolled out.

Either use eggs or condescended sweet milk when baking – you need one of these things to hold all your dry ingredients together.

Communication, consistency, clarity, commitment, emotional presence and engagement, and mutual effort are the barest of the bare minimum needs in a relationship. If you have to convince the other person to fulfil them or negotiate, then it doesn’t matter how good a person they are and what a kind heart they have or how much they say they love you – they just aren’t your person.

I’m not as demisexual as I thought all along – I just haven’t dated many people that I find truly attractive so I had to first build some sort of emotional connection with them first. I definitely still need and want that emotional connect and all, but I also do need to start opting for men I also find physically attractive.

When I’ve thought of my bloodline, my ancestors, I’ve always focused on the intergenerational trauma and the bad genetics. But while rewatching This Is Us this year, it hit me that it took three generations for one dream to be fulfilled. The musical dream that started with Rebecca, was passed down to Kate, and finally got materialized at the grand scale as they always wanted with Kate’s son Jack. When he became this well-renowned musician, it’s not just his dream, but that of his mother and his grandmother that also came to live. It made me think…how much of my aspirations and hopes are actually passed down? And how many of my realities were simply unmateralised dreams of those who came before me? And it made my heart feel lighter and it made me feel more blessed and protected.

Baking cakes and brownies and cookies is not a rocket science. You only needed the right tools and some patience to figure it out and become that friend who bakes stuff for her friends instead of the other way around.

You always prioritise peace, comfort, and an easy-going lifestyle – it’s evident in your career choices and how your family dynamics and friendships have evolved. Let that be the guiding light even when dating.

You are the kind of person that is charming, a good conversationalist, and deeply empathetic. So of course, you make many people feel at home and like they connect with you. It’s easy for you to connect with others. What’s important is to remember – connection without consideration and consistent actions is NOTHING. It’s empty calories but like a thousand times more potent and useless.

In no interpersonal relationship can I be nonchalant or vague. I am that other extreme – while most people try their best to ignore the elephant in the room you know what I do? I dress the cutie up to parade it. So anybody who cannot approach relationships with as much boldness, courage, and forthcomingness is just not my jam.

Female friends for the win – they allow you to wine and whine and win and I am all for that. The healing powers of sitting across your friend and talking at length about everything over pizza and wine or at the park as she senses you need some more time to just sit around before you join the rest of the group and is so good with physical touch for comfort. Just knowing you can video call your friend and ugly cry and she will talk sense into you but also indulge you and also sit with you and your feelings. Who else does that? Who the hell.

For a lot of things that are still new now at this age, you need a guide. To pet cats, to go to dog cafes, to figure out what vitamins you should talk, etc. Ask for that help, that knowledge, that support. It might seem silly and like you can figure it out on your own but these things, no matter how seemingly low-stake, can be handled so seamlessly and sweetly with the help of those you know.

You HAVE to be honest about your needs. First with yourself and then with others. You cannot let shame, guilt, self-hatred or whatever hold you back. Honesty begets clarity begets fulfilment. If you don’t want to date and settle for someone who isn’t absolutely smitten by you and top-notch romantic, then that is a need. Right or wrong, realistic or not, who the hell cares? A need is a need is a need.

When you lose someone not to death but to life, it’s not quite such a loss. Most times, baby, it’s simply good riddance.

People have a range. For being shitty and for being kind. And while our behaviour may impact a little how they react to us, it's primarily dependent on their personal range. So, if your range of being shit is only 1 to 3, it doesn't matter if someone is an ass hole to you, you won't go beyond 3 of being shit to them, cos that's just your range. Even if they deeply hurt you intentionally or fuck up in some major way. But if their range of being shitty is up to 10, then well, be ready to witness their derangedness when you even slightly piss them off.

Narcissistic (and possibly self-sabotaging) people are the opposite of kintsugi. Instead of being put back together with gold, they "heal" themselves with gutter water. So each time they are worse and more ugly than before. And all the more toxic and dangerous. You're too precious to bother with such people.

It’s natural to feel frustrated or angry with yourself for allowing someone to treat you poorly, but the blame isn’t on you; it’s on them. They are responsible for their unkind, insensitive, selfish actions, not you. If you must place blame, place it where it belongs. Avoid judging yourself with thoughts like, “I should have known better.” As long as you walk away the moment you do know, you’re good – please don’t internalize other people’s unkindness or thoughtlessness.

You cannot get to know someone without giving them a chance. Red flags are not that obvious and you cannot show up authentically in any relationship if you’re on the lookout for them. You have to spend time with a person to begin to find out who they are. That’s the only real way. And when you do and if you realize they are not for you, as I said before, don’t internalize this shit or blame yourself for not being some kind of prophecy and knowing better before you even began.

You are a patient person because you are an understanding person. But there are limits to all these qualities of yours and if the balance is tipped you get petty and passive aggressive and irrational. Don’t let yourself reach that point. Speak up and set boundaries way before that.

If you listen to your gut – I know you don’t like calling it that or your intuition. So, let’s call it that feeling you know bone-deep or in the depths of your soul – if you listen to that and trust it, you are quite courageous in the actions you then take. You broke things off with three men this year – each was painful in its own rite. But you did what you had to do for yourself and you didn’t give the charge of your life to another person, you have taken back your green light – detaching your actions from their behaviour, which like all human behaviour is often quite fickle and unreliable. Congratulations. Do this more. Your green light is your guiding light.

My lack of a “healthy sense of fear” in situations with men isn’t recklessness—it’s the result of abuse I suffered at 15. The man I trusted most turned out to be the one who harmed me the most, and that betrayal shattered my ability to trust safety indicators or instincts. The grooming I endured was designed to confuse me, destabilise my sense of self, and make me question my desires and worth. When the templates of trust and safety failed me so catastrophically, my mind rejected them altogether, leaving me to navigate risk without a stable framework. This year, I felt significantly less restless and more emotionally regulated, and I think it’s because I allowed myself, others, and life to just be. I wasn’t fighting my reality or setting rigid expectations. I stopped chasing dopamine highs and forcing connections, and instead, I let equations with people and experiences unfold organically. I ended dating and talking stages quickly when I realised they weren’t right for me, without guilt or overthinking.4 By being okay with things being normal—not impressive or extraordinary—I created space for balance and gentleness in my life. My self-talk became kinder, and I grew more objective about myself, spiraling and self-loathing less. This accepting mindset, where I no longer needed myself or my life to constantly stand out, felt like the antidote to the restlessness I’d been carrying since my mid-20s. And I think that has helped me discover that peace and acceptance can feel more satisfying than cheap dopamine hits.

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ferntears · 3 months ago

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Demon Lords Castle. MCs turn to cook!

I think about this everyday because I feel robbed of that one lesson you are at the demon lords castle for the first time and you cook for everyone.

They hate the food because apparently we made the nasty ass like McDonald's family meal or something but I wanted to list out foods that I would have made for the group.

Not to Yee my own haw, but I am a southerner in America so I'm using my knowledge of cooking and how I was raised on how I would feed these losers.

----------------------

Drinks: considering the many personalities at this table I would pick from these drinks. Lipton iced tea sweetened and unsweetened, lemonade, banana smoothie or just plain ol lemon in water. Ide throw in dr. Pepper and Pepsi tho. (Yet personally for me I have a glass of milk with my dinner every day, I got it from my poppop.)

Appetizer: Probably loaded potato skins, or butter rolls. Ide even maybe cook a big batch of buffalo wings or even a guacamole with corn chips, and for something fresh and to balance out the rest ide make a fruit salad or a salad in general.

Sides: Everything needs a side. Cornbread, corn on a cob, steamed veggies such as broccoli, carrots and cauliflower, Mashed potatoes, Rice and butter, and maybe roasted potatoes and carrots. Yet I do like to make homemade fries so I may opt for those as well.

Main course(s); with big groups I was taught to make at least three main courses that everyone could possibly enjoy. For this group in this lesson in particular I would choose between chicken stir fry, beef stroganoff, Pancakes and waffles, spaghetti, or a casserole.

Desserts: I love to bake and I make two desserts a week irl so this I have definitely thought about.

Barbatos would have to help me because I get easily overstimulated. But anyway I would make a tiramisu, Spanish flan, Orange cake (Dairy free), Cinnamon rolls, and fresh banana bread. I think I would even try something new like a crepe cake. (I wanna try to make this so bad.)

Honestly I have no idea if any of them would enjoy home cooking or southern soul food but I am up at night sometimes thinking about how I woulda made some banger meals for my turn in cooking because I don't slack on food.

#obey me leviathan #obey me #obmswd #obey me nb #gn reader #gn mc #gender neutral #cooking #headcanon #imagine #obey me mammon #obey me barbatos #thoughts #ramble

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anonymousewrites · 1 year ago

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One Hell of a Love (Book 3) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon!Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a College

Summary: Ciel is given a new assignment, and Sebastian and (Y/N) find a way to blend in at Weston College.

Mouse Note: We're jumping right into the plot! Also, MC and Sebastian as a couple looooove to, you know, be in love. Writing them makes me blush. But, welcome back to One Hell of a Love! I had a ton of fun writing the Public School Arc. I have no idea if my updates will get ahead of the anime so just be wary of that (I read the manga so sometimes I am unsure). But please enjoy, feel free to comment (it's encouraged because it helps me stay motivated), and welcome back to the series!

“Hello, darling,” said Sebastian, smiling at (Y/N) as he finished plating Ciel’s afternoon tea. On the tray lay a letter from the Queen, the seal easily recognizable.

“My love,” said (Y/N), letting him pull them in for a light kiss. “Sneaking kisses in the halls? How scandalous.”

“But you tempt me so,” said Sebastian with a smirk. “How can I resist?”

(Y/N) let out a light laugh before turning around to walk with him towards Ciel’s office. Since their confession, the pair of demons had been quite satisfied together. They doubted the humans knew they were together, but they didn’t care. Their connection was different than humans’, their relationship didn’t follow the rules set by the ruling class.

Besides, (Y/N) and Sebastian were singularly minded demons. Sebastian still had a job to do, and (Y/N) was entertained enough to continue helping him. Having a relationship merely added to their enjoyment of existence together in the otherwise monotonous, dull living and contracts.

What was a little fun with the demon they love if not adding spice to existence?

Sebastian knocked lightly on Ciel’s office door, and Ciel acknowledged their arrival. (Y/N) opened the door, and Sebastian rolled in the cart. Pleased with himself as usual, Sebastian announced the day’s tea and cake combination. He also offered Ciel the letter from the Queen, but Ciel opted to eat his sweet treat before attending to business. Sebastian and (Y/N) suppressed amused smirks at Ciel pushing back work in favor of treats.

Finaly, Ciel unsealed the letter.

“ ‘To my dear boy,’ ” he read. “ ‘The Campania incident was a frightful calamity. Have you already recovered? Are you enjoying your Easter? For my part, though Easter is here at long last, I find myself unable to whole-heartedly enjoy the holiday as there is something that weighs upon my mind.

“I am worried about Derrick, the son of my cousin Duke Clemens. Derrick is in the fifth form at Weston College. But for some reason, it seems he has not returned home since last summer. He used to write home every day, but his letters abruptly stopped as well…The anxious duchess has called at his house, but he refuses to return home and so on. If it was Derrick alone, we might chalk it up to a rebellious phase. However, other students have also not returned home. I wonder what in the world could have brought about this behavior.

“Because his only son is acting thusly, Duke Clemens continues to lose heart…The whole affair has me very concerned indeed. I pray my loved ones can enjoy Easter in high, peaceful spirits as soon as possible. Victoria.’ ”

Sebastian considered. “So, in short, Her Majesty has charged you to investigate the reason why students have failed to return home from Weston College.”

Ciel nodded. “Public schools are independent institutions that refuse all government intervention, so it’s hard to lay a finger on them. Rather, those involved with the school don’t want to publicize their internal circumstances by making waves.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “Worrying about appearances even at a time like this. My, my, this is why humans are so tiring.”

“You understand vanity quite well,” said (Y/N), smirking.

“I am one hell of a butler,” said Sebastian. “Of course I must act accordingly.”

(Y/N) simply looked at him in amusement.

Nearly rolling his eyes at their obvious flirting—Ciel was not nearly as oblivious as the other servants—Ciel spoke. “I’d like someone to infiltrate the school, but Weston usually only lets in the sons of aristocrats. Those with titles are few, and I’m acquainted with most of them. If it comes down to sneaking in, a disguise would be dangerous.”

“So you will go as yourself?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

“I have no choice,” said Ciel, taking a sip of his tea. “And I certainly wouldn’t mind having the Queen in my debt. The problem lies not in whether or not there’s an open place at Weston.”

“If there is none, you simply need to make one,” remarked Sebastian with a light smirk.

“I’ll handle the investigation within the school,” said Ciel. “Sebastian, (Y/N), you will have to support me without being discovered yourself. How you go about it is up to you.”

Sebastian and (Y/N) bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

(Y/N) knew that that order—“up to you”—would be put to good, entertaining use.

“What is our plan for assisting the Young Master?” said (Y/N), sitting down in the library of the Phantomhive Mansion.

“You do not think we will simply lurk in the shadows until needed?” said Sebastian. “It would give us quite a few private moments.”

“As lovely as that possibility is, I suspect you have more planned,” said (Y/N), leaning their head on their hand with a sharp grin.

“Perceptive as ever,” said Sebastian, pleased at (Y/N)’s acumen. “I feel we can better keep an eye on the situation and gather our own information as housemasters.” As adults in the college, they would be able to go places at times students weren’t—imperative for investigations.

“Playing professors?” (Y/N) considered. “I haven’t done that yet, and I rarely play a masculine role. It sounds fun.”

“I’m certain you’ll do wonderfully,” said Sebastian. “And I look forward to seeing in a more masculine role.” He knew for damn sure he’d be just as attracted to them no matter what form they took—he loved who they were, not their appearance. That meant little to demons.

He tilted his head. “However…we should try to craft the proper disguise for your role.” Sebastian put his hand on his chest. “I have the perfect outfit for myself, but we shall have to see how you look.”

“I can look masculine,” said (Y/N).

“You can,” agreed Sebastian. “But I want you to look dashing, not just masculine.” He smirked. “Come alone, darling.”

“You’re doing this to play dress up,” said (Y/N), smirking as they stood to follow him.

“Or to undress you,” said Sebastian.

“You’re insatiable.”

“Positively gluttonous~”

“I think robes would add to the outfit,” said Sebastian as he finished buttoning (Y/N)’s vest.

They rolled their eyes. “I can’t wear a professor’s robes until I am hired. This is enough, I’m sure.”

They wore a dark grey button-up with black pants, a black vest, a tie, and a coat overtop (which would become robes if hired). Around (Y/N)’s neck hung a silver cross. Some religious figures would claim the demons wouldn’t be able to handle the holy symbol, but they would be wrong. Unless being used with some sort of religious or divine magic, they were fine wearing it. In fact, (Y/N) and Sebastian knew that being religious would help them get the jobs as housemaster and assistant—they’d be seen as intelligent, well-rounded individuals.

“You do look quite handsome,” said Sebastian, brushing a hand over (Y/N)’s hair fondly. They had altered it slightly, too, in order to fall in a traditionally masculine style (the length would never matter, though, since men like Viscount Druitt were as respect as Lord Midford, it was just the styling to present more masculine). “However, we could run a test.”

“Go on,” said (Y/N), smirking. They were looking forward to learning what Sebastian was suggesting.

Sebastian stepped out of the room and called down the hall. “Mey-Rin, come here, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Sebastian!” said Mey-Rin, running down the hall. She, unsurprisingly, tripped, but Sebastian caught her and set her upright before she could knock anything over.

“Really, Mey-Rin, you must be more careful,” tutted Sebastian.

“S-Sorry, I am,” said Mey-Rin sheepishly, red as usual.

“Now that you’re here, I need you to see someone,” said Sebastian.

“Is it a guest?” said Mey-Rin nervously.

“If you’d like to classify them as so,” said Sebastian, his words avoiding a lie with practiced ease. He stepped to the side, and (Y/N) stepped into their masculine role.

“Hello, Mey-Rin,” said (Y/N), smirking.

Mey-Rin’s eyes widened, and a heavy blush appeared on her cheek’s like it did when she faced Sebastian. Obviously, she found this masc form of (Y/N)’s quite attractive (and who could blame her?)

“Oh, uh, sir, uh, h-hello! Nice to meet you!” She bowed awkwardly and ran off.

(Y/N) watched her in amusement. “I barely changed my form, and yet that’s the reaction I got.” They smirked at Sebastian. “I think this disguise will work perfectly. Humans always do love a nice face and figure~”

“They do indeed,” said Sebastian.

“And I know another being who likes to look at me,” teased (Y/N).

Sebastian smirked with sharp teeth, not caring in the slightest to look away.

“Now that we have our plans,” said (Y/N), continuing on, “We should ensure there are…job openings for us.” They glanced at Sebastian. “Don’t you agree?”

“Indeed,” said Sebastian. “I’m sure there will be an opportunity quite soon.”

They shared devilish grins which promised murder. They were going to have fun at Weston College.

“Heave-ho!”

The students of Sapphire Owl House threw their arms up, and Ciel was tossed up by the white sheet. It was an unusual welcome party (though Ciel had worried about hazing), but Weston College was already proving a bit…strange anyways.

“Well, how do you like the traditional welcome of our house?” said Clayton, grinning. “Devote yourself to your studies all the more as a member of Sapphire Owl house, do you hear? Okay! Toss him higher next. One, two—”

“What is the meaning of all this racket?” snapped an authoritative voice.

“Dash it all!” cried one boy.

“It’s the Housemasters!” said another, freezing as they realized they were caught.

Ciel rolled haphazardly from the sheet to the ground with a yelp.

“Clayton,” said a second calm, though commanding, voice. “An upperclassman such as you is involved in this? I’m ashamed.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Well, er, this is our house tradition…” said Clayton, formal as ever but a bit hesitant.

“My, my, tradition is all well and good, but try not to overdo it.”

Ciel looked up while someone knelt before him.

“So you’re the new Phantomhive boy.” (Y/N) smiled at him with a hand outstretched. “Hello, I am Assistant Housemaster Noir.” Now their outfit was completed with robes instead of a jacket.

“And I am Housemaster Michaelis,” said Sebastian, dressed in his own set of housemaster robes. His hair was pushed back, and glasses balanced on his face. He smiled. “Welcome to Sapphire Owl House.”

Ciel’s eyebrow twitched. So this was how they planned to get in to Weston College. Ciel hated Sebastian as a teacher, and now he was stuck with him.

Demons.

Ciel, Sebastian, and (Y/N)’s time at Weston College commenced and was as British as it could be. It was a highly regulated school that raised its students into diligent workers and well-rounded men while also catering to aristocrats. Now, they tried to teach diligence by having the boys do certain chores occasionally, but when Ciel had to clean the dining hall…It of course became Sebastian and (Y/N)’s chores instead of Ciel’s.

“Sebastian,” he called, pulling off his eyepatch.

In an instant, Sebastian appeared beside him, and (Y/N) only took a moment longer to follow Sebastian.

“Right here,” said Sebastian.

“Already calling upon help? My, not even a day has passed,” said (Y/N).

Ciel ignored the teasing and faced them with his hands on his hips. “It seems that Derrick has been transferred to another house.”

“We did check the student roll and found the same information,” said Sebastian, flipping the clipboard paper over. “His name is on the list of Violet Wolf residents.”

“An abrupt change,” said (Y/N). Their nose twitched. They didn’t trust it.

“He should be at his house now,” said Ciel. “I’ll go there directly, so you tidy up here.”

“Very good, sir,” said Sebastian, bowing as Ciel ran out of the room.

“Now, then,” said (Y/N), taking off their long robes and surveying the mess in the dining room. “To work, Sebastian?”

“To work,” confirmed Sebastian.

He smirked. They were about to clean this room so well that it would be inhuman. (Poor Ciel was going to be heralded as an excellent cleaner and be asked to do it more often. He’d hate that, and what was Sebastian to do if not make some small irritation for his master?)

Sure enough, once the dining room was spotless and Ciel had returned (unsuccessful) from Violet Wolf, he was giving great praise by Clayton at the amazing job he’d done cleaning.

“Mr. Michaelis, Mr. Noir!” said Clayton as he spotted the housemasters. “Please feast your eyes on the dining hall! Phantomhive put it in order.” He patted an irritated, exhausted Ciel on the shoulder.”

“Nice work, Phantomhive,” said Sebastian with an innocent smile while Ciel glared at him.

“Truly an excellent job,” said (Y/N).

“You, too, sirs,” said Ciel, gritting his teeth. Then, he paused. He could use this to his advantage. He needed to get close to the Prefects, and since Clayton was Bluewer’s Drudge…he needed to get close to Clayton.

“I’m very glad to hear that my work pleases you so!” said Ciel, suddenly grinning brightly. He put on a performance of boyish gratitude and eagerness. “You see, I’m actually quite good at housekeeping and such!” He saluted. “So, please, Clayton, consider me at your service whenever you need aaanything done.”

What a brat, offering up our services, thought (Y/N). That being said, his manipulation of others was entertaining. They supposed it was a fair tradeoff.

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louloulemons-posts · 2 years ago

Text

Rainy Days and Lattes

Steve Harrington X Fem!Reader

Summary : Steve goes to get a treat for him and Robin and ends up meeting you.

Word Count : 0.6k

Warnings : Pure fluff, not proofread, 4am writing 🫶🏻, steve is a cutie, just a cute little meet cute drabble, autumn-y rainy days (i am ready for the ber months) no use of y/n, fem pronouns, reader calls steve pretty.

A/N : Guys I don’t know how it happened but we hit 700 followers?!?! I am in shock! Thank you all so much for the love and support it means so much to me 🤍

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Steve had gone on his break, planning on fetching himself and Robin some warm drinks and sweet treats. He headed into the cafe at the end of the block.

It was quiet today, the autumn weather rolling in fast. Leaves turning from green to yellows and oranges, it was beautiful. Although it was damp, drizzling rain fell on him, speeding up to get out of it. Pushing the door open, a small bell jingled above him.

There were a few people sat inside : an older couple, a woman deeply interested in her book, a man and his daughter and two teenagers who were giggling away. Steve smiled, he enjoyed people watching.

Looking up at the boards and the glass cabinets he thought about what to get for Robin - probably opting for the sweetest thing they had.

“Hi, can I help you?” a voice spoke from the counter. Looking up he met your gaze, god you were beautiful. “Uh .. Hi, can I get um,” be cool man, relax, relax.

“Can I please get a hazelnut hot chocolate and a latte please,” he spoke, finally getting his words out. “Sure, is it to drink now?” you smiled.

“Take out please.” He was scared to meet your gaze again, worried he’d be tongue tied and embarrass himself.

He didn’t do as well with girls now as he used too, and well you were probably the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Okidoki, anything else?” you asked, taking his order into the register. “What’s the sweetest cake you have?” he asked.

“Maybe the brownies? or the millionaires shortbread, they’re both filled with caramel,” you explained, whilst pointing them out in the cabinet.

“Could I get one of each?”

“Sure,” you smiled at him again - secretly hoping he’d meet your gaze, cause gosh he was so pretty. “Okay thats $8.65 all together.” After exchanging cash and change you spoke again, “You can wait here or I’ll bring your things over.”

“I’ll wait,” he spoke gently, “Are you new here?” he asked. He’d been here before a few times and never seen you. “Not really. I don’t normally work this shift it’s all, and if I do I’m normally making cakes out the back,” you told him.

He hummed and nodded as he did so. “You come in here a lot?”

“Me and my friend take it in turns, we work at Family Video down the street.”

“Ah I see,” you nodded as you frothed some milk for the latte.

“I might start asking her if I can come here everytime we’re on together,” he spoke up.

“Oh yeah why’s that?” you asked, mouth curving into a slight smile. “Well there’s this really beautiful barista I’d like to see again.”

You nodded, pouring the hot drink into a cup. “Right, and if that barista was completely flattered because such a pretty boy wanted to see her again?”

“He’d ask her out, ask to see her out of this awful uniform.”

Huffing a laugh, you slid his cakes over the counter, turning to finish off his drinks.

“Well she’d be interested, can I take your name for her?”

“It’s Steve.”

“Steve,” you repeated, a smile now consuming your lips. “Mhm, that’s me.”

“I’ll let her know,” you spoke over your shoulder. Sliding the cups into sleeves and placing them in a cup holder so he wouldn’t hurt himself, you handed them over.

“Well it was nice meeting you Steve.”

“You too, have a good day.” You watched him walk out the shop, giving you a goofy smile and carry on his way.

Looking down at his latte cup he noticed some scribbles on the side. Moving as quickly as he could he headed back to work, passing Robin the cakes, to decide which she wanted and her hot choc.

He slid the sleeve off the cup and couldn’t help grinning, it was a number and a name. Your number and name. “God Dingus, you finally get your game back,” Robin teased from beside him.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, smiling as he took as sip of what may have been the best coffee of his life.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

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aruanimess · 8 months ago

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Hello, Myrtle! 🖤

I hope you're doing well, and wish you a good *timezone*, and don't forget to take care and rest :3

If it's still actual, and only when you have time and more energy, could you please share your ideas of quiet sings of love prompt "i brought you flowers." "for what?" "there has to be a reason?" for AruAni feat. JeanPiku? I'm curious about your thoughts on this prompt, and I hope it'll also cheer you up and bring a smile on your face while working on it (but only when you have more spare time, no rush!)

Sending you many, many hugs and best wishes, Myrtle⊂⁠(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠⊂⁠ ⁠)⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Quiet acts of love prompts

Anna!! Such a lovely prompt! I wanted to finish it for the boy’s birthday, but alas… the tiredness won out T^T

Anyway, I hope you like it :)

~~~

“N— no, that’s just wrong.”

“Pshaw, no, it’s not. It’s perfectly reasonable actually!”

“I’m sorry but I can’t get behind this. You can stretch the definition, sure, but still it doesn’t apply. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not stretching it, I’m following it to its logical conclusion.”

“No. I’m sorry, Pieck. I disagree.”

Jean enters the kitchen. His pajama shirt is buttoned wrong and he must have opted out of shaving for the day because his patchy stubble is clearly visible. This is what vacation Jean likes to do then: sleep in and skip shaving, thinks Armin, lamenting the fact that in all their years of friendship this is the first time he glimpses this side of him.

Pieck leans back in her chair, craning her neck to spy at Jean’s ass while he fills up a mug with fresh-brewed coffee. “Babe,” she says in a sugary voice. “What do you think? Is cake a sandwich or not? I’ll give you a hint. The answer is pretty… sweet.” She winks. Or blinks. Both eyes close at any rate.

Jean narrows his eyes as he sits with them at the table. “What are you guys going on about?” He slurps his coffee loudly.

His former zeal returns with vengeance. “That’s another issue actually. Sandwiches are generally savory.”

Pieck grins like a lazy, smug cat. “Have you never heard of an ice-cream sandwich, Armin?”

Rats. She has a point.

Jean sets his mug down with a decisive thunk. “This debate is stupid.”

“No it’s not!”

Pieck and Armin glance at each other in surprise. In their affront, they both spoke at the same time. They giggle at their own silliness.

Pieck recovers first. “No, but really. It’s two pieces of bread-like substance with filling between them. It’s a sandwich!”

“No, no.” He waves his index finger at her. “That’s stretching the definition. A sandwich is framed by two pieces of bread. Period. Not bread-like. Also, you may have noticed the operative word ‘two’.”

“Are you guys seriously gonna keep at it?”

Pieck huffs. She picks up her fork, cuts a bite of her piece of… well, cake, and shoves it in her mouth. “You and your definitions,” she teases as she chews.

Armin sits up in his chair. “Do you want me to bring out the dictionary?”

“Please don’t,” says Jean.

With a theatrical eye-roll, Pieck tilts her head. “It’s not about the dictionary! This is language in action! Expanding on the meaning of words as needs arise.”

“So you agree it’s expanding on the meaning?”

“I’m only pointing out that dictionaries are not necessarily updated on current vernacular.”

“But no one uses the word sandwich to refer to cake!”

“Not with this attitude, they don’t.”

Thankfully, the back door bursts open, and his glorious girlfriend walks in to save him from her best friend’s deranged ramblings.

Honestly though, sometimes he thinks Pieck is just messing with him. She likes to debate him on the silliest, most inane things imaginable. After a short period of continuously getting involved in ridiculous arguments, he refused to engage her any longer, but then she started baiting him. She'd open with the most outlandish of claims and then proceed to defend it to the death. He simply had no option but to set her straight. And thus they have found themselves debating whether cake was a sandwich on the very first morning of their vacation, while Jean was still asleep and Annie out for her ritual jog.

Along with a gust of crisp wind, Annie steps inside. Her cheeks have a healthy flush to them, from the exercise or from the springtime chill or both. She’s wearing a loose top and knee-length bloomers. On her side, she’s holding something obscured by the folds of her clothes.

Armin tilts his chin up in a silent plea for a kiss. She indulges him, dropping one swift peck on the corner of his lips. Preoccupied by her closeness as he is, he hears more than sees something soft landing on the table in front of him. Annie draws back and turns around, already too busy pulling a loaf and a jar of jam out of the pantry to make her breakfast. Armin stares at her strong hands as they work on her food.

A low whistle penetrates the Annie-induced fog in his brain. It’s coming from Jean, who is glancing meaningfully down. Curious, Armin follows his gaze.

There on the table, right between his coffee and his plate, sits a small bouquet of bright yellow flowers. More than a little taken aback, Armin nudges the bundle with his pinky finger. “What’s this?” he asks Annie.

Annie’s spine stiffens noticeably. The tips of her ears are turning red. “I brought you flowers,” she murmurs while spreading butter on a slice of bread, avoiding his eyes.

He blinks. “For what?”

A tiny irritated shrug. “There has to be a reason?”

Armin is shocked speechless. He takes the flowers in hand and twists them around to examine them from both sides, as if this will reveal to him their secrets. It’s six flowers in total, he notes, chrysanthemums if his memory serves. He digs his brain for their hidden meaning. What is Annie trying to tell him? His mind provides several answers: longevity, amity, joy; but also the death of a loved one. He shakes his head, frowning. No, Annie is not well-versed in flower symbolism, that’s his brand of madness. Still, what could this mean?

While Armin is struck dumb by the bouquet, Pieck most certainly is not. She plops her elbow to the back of her chair and looks at Annie with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, come on, Annie-Honey. You can’t just show up with a bouquet,” the way she pronounces the word should be outlawed, “of all things and not share what’s the occasion!”

Annie pivots to face them. She leans against the kitchen counter, balancing her plate in one hand. “There’s no occasion,” she insists, and, before Pieck has a chance to question her further, she shoves the entire slice of jam-slathered bread in her mouth. She chews obnoxiously.

Little does she know, she’s only riling her up with her refusal to answer. Armin glances warily between his girlfriend and Pieck, but it’s Jean who speaks next.

“No occasion?” he muses, an extremely judgemental eyebrow tilt is accompanying his words. “I’m quite positive—nay certain—that gifting your significant other flowers is generally motivated by something. If not to mark an occasion, then perhaps to express some tender feelings?”

“Oh, baby,” Pieck mock-laments, “you shouldn’t be neighing like that.”

All levity bleeds out of Jean’s face. He pouts sullenly. “You and Connie should have never met.”

Pieck grins and blows him a kiss. Then, her attention zeros in on Annie. “But really, Annie, don’t be shy, is it because you loooooove him?”

Armin’s heart is hammering in his chest. He should interfere, he thinks, step in and get them to stop with their teasing. But in truth he wishes to hear Annie’s answer as much as them. This gesture… It’s so sweet, so romantic, so uncharacteristic of Annie, it makes him want to howl from happiness.

Annie is scowling. The food in her mouth is no longer filling her cheeks. Chewed and swallowed, warm in her stomach, it can’t provide an easy out any more. And Pieck is watching her like a hawk.

She sighs. “I passed by a vendor,” she says.

“And?” urges Pieck.

Annie casts a glance at him and meets his eyes. He doesn’t know what she sees in his expression—longing, embarrassment, tentative hope?—but her face softens. Her lips curve minimally in a fond smile. When she responds, it’s to him and him only: “And they reminded me of you.”

Armin gasps. The scent of pollen hits the back of his throat and he sneezes loudly. Then, he sneezes again and again and again, a proper sneezing fit. Jean is there, grabbing the flowers away from his nose. Annie is to his other side, rubbing his back with a small gentle hand. Pieck is chuckling, but her eyes hold a sympathetic warmth.

“You’ll kill him with your bouts of romance, Leonhart,” chastises Jean.

Annie’s palm on his back freezes, halting her caring petting. Her hand slips on his shoulder and then away. Oh no. Armin can’t have that.

He grips her fingers tightly before they vanish. With the other hand, he takes hold of the bouquet from Jean and brings it beneath his nostrils, taking a long showy whiff.

“No, she won’t,” he says to Jean. Then he beams up at his beautiful, considerate girlfriend, who melts at the sight of his smile. “And if she will, I’ll die a happy man.”

#asks #prompt fill #mini fic #long post #aruani #jeanpiku #armin arlert #annie leonhart #jean kirstein #pieck finger #fluff #tooth rotting fluff

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hotcat37 · 1 year ago

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deaf!jere + 9 for the kisses? 👉🏼👈🏼

deaf! Jere my beloved of all time

9: in public

Being able to verbally ask for things really is something you can easily take for granted. Bojan is reminded of it again right now, observing the rather awkward interaction between Jere and the store clerk. They'd gotten lost looking for baking supplies in the supermarket no matter how many times they split up to look through the aisles. Jere immediately opted to go ask a store clerk and Bojan hadn't questioned it. His boyfriend actually quite often takes initiative to make contact with people in public, whether it be to order something at a restaurant or ask for directions.

And usually it isn't too difficult. Some people get kinda weird about it but most of the time strangers are able to read a message on Jere's phone without making a big deal out of it.

This guy however has been dumbly staring back and forth from Jere to his phone screen for the past minute now and it still doesn't seem like he has any clue what's happening despite the short man's efforts to add more detail to his presumably already clear text. Jere's friendly smile doesn't waver but Bojan knows him well enough by now to tell when his lover is getting uncomfortable and so he comes to the rescue with his rather limited grasp on the Finnish language.

"Where is.....baking....things?" Bojan asks, not very coherent, but confident. For whatever reason that causes the clerk's face to finally light up in recognition. He couldn't figure out Jere's very eloquently written text but he understands Bojan's botched Finnish. Alright.

Jere rolls his eyes as the employee immediately starts leading them towards the baking section. Bojan reaches out to take a soft hand in his, gently squeezing it, reassuring his boyfriend. He has half a mind to call out the guy for being a dick but he knows it's not really worth it. Besides, Bojan doesn't know enough Finnish swear words to properly insult the man. If he's gonna make a scene he wants to do it properly.

"Kiitos." The Slovene says plainly once they've been escorted to their destination. The store clerk looks quite happy with himself, walking away without sparing Jere another glance. Bojan feels quiet anger building up in his body but leaves it be for Jere's sake.

Still, he doesn't think he can ever get used to how some people will just ignore his angel without a second thought. This isn't the first time a stranger has completely discarded Jere's way of communicating despite it being literally the same as just reading a text. The audacity. Ugh. Bojan turns to where Jere is scooping up the items they were looking for. The deaf Finn beams that sharp toothed smile of his when he catches the brunette staring and Bojan's eyes soften. How can one possibly ignore such a sweet face? It seems impossible to him.

You see something you like?👀😏💚

Bojan grins wide in response. "Yeah."

And standing there, in the middle of the grocery store, Bojan's heart overflows with love for this man. He doesn't even register the fellow shoppers walking all around them. His eyes are always drawn to Jere like a magnetic force. And his lips too, because Bojan doesn't think twice about leaning in to press a kiss against Jere's forehead. It earns him a quiet breathy laugh, the familiar sound only further expanding his full heart. Manicured fingers tap away at the phone screen and the Slovene reluctantly shifts his gaze to read the message.

My Bojan so cute ☺ I give you cake now? 😋😈

"Man, shut up!" Bojan playfully pushes at Jere for the innuendo before changing his mind and pulling the older man close again. "At least wait until we're back home, you perv."

#käärijä #bojan cvjetićanin #Bojere #anon ask #deaf! Jere #kiss game #deaf! Bojere my darlings

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a-pale-azure-moon · 4 months ago

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My birthday is Sunday, and rather than making myself a cake, I decided that I wanted cinnamon rolls. I'd wanted to make them back during the holidays, but I was simply too busy. So this was my excuse to finally get my fix! 😋

It all starts with a hefty dough baby. Making this is the easiest part, and I actually really enjoy kneading dough. It feels therapeutic, even when my hands start to get tired.

Rolling out the dough is trickier. I don't go as far as measuring, but it takes time to make a reasonably even rectangle (and yes, I had to give up keeping the dough on the silpats as all they did was slide around). Spreading the filling is my least favorite part as it is a pain; both it and the dough are sticky and they don't like to cling to each other. Plus if you spread too aggressively, the dough might tear. I always start out using a spoon or spatula, but I usually just end up smearing it with my hands. 😅

No matter how perfect-looking my rectangle and no matter how carefully I roll, the ends of the log always wind up really uneven. 😑 But even with having to trim a few inches off of each end, I still got a dozen nice fat rolls!

I opted to freeze most of them (raw) to have later, because as much as I love cinnamon rolls, there's still a limit to how many I can eat without making myself sick. So I only baked four for now.

These might be the most aesthetically pleasing rolls I've made to date. And yeah...they definitely taste at least as good as they look! 💖

#real life #my cooking #there is nothing like the smell of a fresh baked cinnamon roll #just pure heaven

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crimson-calligraphyx · 2 years ago

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Noah

I felt depleted upon waking up when I felt that the bed sheets were cool, absent of Olivia to warm them for the umpteenth time. She would be sound asleep when I crawled into bed each night, and I started to appreciate her warmth more and more by wrapping myself around her, knowing I'd wake up to an empty bed. It's become a pattern that I didn't enjoy by any means, missing the way she would give me a sheepish smile and kiss me good morning, her eyes glimmering under the morning sun.

Sighing, I pushed myself out of bed to start the day, stretching before I made my way to the kitchen. Just like I had expected, Liv was not home, most likely already down at the bakery for the day. I hated the foolish quarrels we've been having as of late, ending with one or both of us parting ways in frustration. I felt like no matter what I did, how hard I tried to put a smile on her face, it just wasn't enough.

I frowned when I reached the kitchen island, the lack of a good morning note dampening my mood even further. Before this distancing began, she would always leave me a message if she left before I had woken up. It was like she didn't want anything to do with me, and that was killing me.

Instead of making breakfast at home, I opted to head to the bakery, hoping the surprise visit would alleviate some of the tension. When I made my way through the door of the bakery, I immediately spotted her, working away at decorating her pastries for the day. I smiled as I admired her—the soft smile gracing her lips while surely humming to herself, the smudge of red icing on her cheek, vibrant against her porcelain skin, her curls neatly tucked into a bun, save for a few stray hairs that perfectly framed her face.

"Hey, love," I greet her gently, folding my arms on top of the glass case and resting my chin on them. She finishes with the cupcake she was currently decorating before bringing her attention to me. My heart swelled when the smile on her face actually grew, seeming happy to see me. "Hey. What are you doing here?" she asks, placing the piping bag on the counter and wipes her hands clean on her apron. I shrug playfully, "Just thought I'd start my day by seeing my beautiful wife do what she does best. Maybe eat a muffin or two, grab an iced chai."

She chuckles before grabbing a sheet of wax paper and bends down to observe the muffins, surely picking the one with the most streusel on top. She picks up the coffee cake, handing it to me over the glass. "Go sit, I'll join you," she says and turns to prepare me the latte.

Moments later, she joins me at the table that I picked, two drinks sitting a tray and her own muffin in hand. I thanked her after taking a sip and she smiled at me before tasting her own beverage. We sat in silence while we both picked at our muffin tops, and I took the time to admire her—especially her eyes, my favorite shade of blue glimmering in front of me.

I licked my thumb and swiped it over the icing she had on her cheek, and she giggles, putting her hand up while turning her face away from me. "What are you doing, ya goof?" I snickered, retracting my hand, "You had frosting on your face." "Oh, my God," she gasps, eyes growing wide with realization, "did I really?" I laughed and nodded my head. "How embarrassing," she mumbles. "It looked good on you," I winked, causing her to roll her eyes with a smirk.

I reached out and took her hand in mine, running my thumb over her knuckles. I relished how smooth her skin felt as she gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "How's your morning been?" I ask, still smoothing my thumb over her hand. "Good. It's been slow so far today; gave me some time to do some extra decorating," she lets out a breathy laugh. "How about yours?" I grin, "Better now that I got to see you." Her smile falters slightly as she averts her eyes to our adjoined hands. Her grasp loosens, and I feel my heart sink because of it. "What's wrong, love?" I whispered.

She remained silent, and my mind immediately goes back to the night of our anniversary and how disappointed she was in me. The pain behind her reddened and tear-filled eyes, the anguish in her voice as she scolded me, and the look of uncertainty when I had asked if she was tired of me lives rent free in my head. I fucked up big time, and it was very evident from her behavior that I hurt her. I wasn't sure if she would ever forgive me, and that killed me.

She shakes her head and brings her gaze back to mine, plastering a smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. "Nothing, I'm just tired, is all." My stomach churns, my heart plummeting hearing her say she was tired again. "I'm sorry, Liv. Why don't you close up early today and get some rest?” I say as I squeeze her hand, even though I knew that wasn't the ‘tired’ she was talking about. “We can watch a movie, or I could cook you dinner.” She shrugs, "I guess I could. I've got two employees coming in at noon, they can close shop for me." "Great," I flash her a smile, running my thumb over her knuckles again. "It's a date." She gives me a half-assed smile, and nods. "It's a date."

"I really don't know what to do, Nick. And I'm fucking scared," I confided in my best friend, hoping he would be able to give me some sort of advice. "She's been so distant ever since our anniversary, a-and I know I fucked up," I sighed harshly, resting my elbows on my thighs and shaking my head in my hands. "Just give her time, man. She'll come around," he tries, plopping down on the couch next to me.

I look over at him as he cracks open a beer and settles into the cushions. I shake my head 'no' at him; he didn't understand the extent of how distant she's been and how badly the guilt was eating me alive.

"No, Nick. She...she said she was tired." He scrunches his face, shaking his head lightly in dismissal. "Okay, and? So, she's tired from working so many hours at the bakery, she just needs to rest for a little while." I close my eyes and sigh, the image of her pained face flashing behind my eyelids. "I asked her if she was tired of me," I start, my heart making its way into my throat as the apprehension of the situation begins to overwhelm me. "She...she didn't answer me. She just looked at me with such...anguish, such uncertainty, and then she shut the door.” My eyes start to burn with tears; I rub my eyes with my thumb and index finger to clear them away.

“Shit,” Nick says under his breath, and I feel the couch shift as he sits up. “And she’s been distant since then?” I nod. “Like…how distant?” I let out a deep breath and sit up straight. “I barely see her during the day. She’s always asleep when I come to bed after working on the album, and when I wake up, she’s not there. Sometimes she’s not even home.” My voice cracks on the last sentence; my throat was burning as I tried not to let out a cry in front of him.

He claps his hands on his legs and lets out a sigh before standing, “I know this might suck, but you gotta take some time away from the studio and be with her.” His voice grows quiet as he makes his way to the kitchen. “And I mean with her.” I hear him crack open a can, his voice funneling back in at normal volume as he rejoins me. “Like do shit with her, for her.” I accepted the beer he offers me with a nod. “I offered to cook her dinner and watch a movie tonight.” “That’s a start! I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,” he says with a tiny grin. “What movie are you going with?”

I take a swig of my beer, pondering it for a moment. “Well, Halloween is right around the corner, and she loves those movies, so…” I shrugged. He practically slams his drink onto the coffee table, abruptly standing and grabbing his keys. “Oh, then I’ve got just the thing for you,” he tells me, waving his arm for me to follow as he makes his way out the front door.

A couple hours later, the living room was decked out in all things Halloween—movie and holiday. I’m not one to typically decorate, but with the help of Nick, it looked great, and I knew that Liv would love it.

His roommate just so happened to have a few things Michael Myers that he was willing to let us borrow for the evening. A throw blanket of the original poster, a large plush pillow in the shape of Michael, and a few Funko Pop figurines just for some added decoration. I dug out the string lights that Liv had bought last year and hung them behind the TV, setting the living room ablaze in orange. To top it all off, I stretched cobwebs across the entirety of the entertainment center, adorned with plastic spiders with glowing eyes.

I thanked Nick for all of his help before he left, leaving me to lay out the bowl of Halloween candy and finish making the popcorn just as Olivia made it through the door. I smirked to myself when I heard her gasp and call out my name, followed by the door shutting.

I make my way into the living room, popcorn in hand, seeing her standing there with a huge smile on her face. My body warms at the sight, and I couldn’t help but mirror her expression—it felt so good to see that smile again.

She turns towards me after placing her bag down, “What is all this?” I shrugged and closed the gap between us, “I wanted to watch a movie with you, that’s all.” She threw herself at me, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Easy, easy,” I laughed, having her head bump the bottom of the bowl and nearly spilling it all over the floor. She mumbles ‘sorry’ into my shirt, followed by a giggle. I wrapped my free arm around her, and I kissed the top of her head, breathing in the aroma of her coconut scented shampoo. The scent paired with the feeling of her arms around me started to ease every little bit of apprehension that I had.

“Let’s go sit,” I say as I pulled away from her gently, cocking my head in the direction of the couch. She looks up at me, and I see that her eyes are glossed over with what I assumed, or at least hoped, were tears of joy. “Okay,” she says, standing on her toes to give me a kiss on the cheek before she scurries off to the couch.

I chuckled at her excitement, following her. She made herself comfortable by throwing the blanket over herself and held it up for me to settle in with her. I set the popcorn on the table and grabbed the remote before taking a seat, and she immediately cuddled up to me, draping her arm across my torso. I pressed ‘play’ on the remote and wrapped my arm around her, holding her close to me. She nuzzles her face against my chest, and I let out a sigh of relief from her affection—God did I fucking miss this.

I moved my hand to her head and tried my best to delicately take her hair tie out so that I could run my hand through her locks of mahogany. She hums lightly as I knead my fingers into the base of her skull, and I glance down at her to see that her eyes were shut with a satisfied curl of her lips. “Thank you for this,” she mumbles. I take a strand of her hair, rolling it between my fingers and admiring how soft it felt. “No need to thank me, Liv. I just want you to get the rest you deserve since you’ve been working so many hours.”

She picks her head up from my chest, her eyes glimmering under the orange glow in the room as she gazed at me with such innocence. Her cheek still had some remanence of the frosting from earlier, making me chuckle and bring my thumb to her face again. She laughs as I try once again to rub it off; my heart flutters hearing her laughter and seeing the crinkle in her nose that I adored so much when she did.

I cup her face and guide her towards me as she starts to sit up, capturing her lips with mine. I relished the way our mouths synced together, the way I could feel her smiling against my lips, the way she pushed herself closer to me. It had been far too long since we’ve been affectionate towards each other, it was like I was kissing her for the first time all over again with the way my body buzzed and the way my heart pounded.

We shift, and I’m lying on top of her with her leg settling over my hip. I break away from the kiss, resting my forehead against hers. “I’ve missed you,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb against the apple of her cheek. “I know, and I’m sorry,” she says back to me, guilt shining in her eyes. “I just…I don’t know what I was thinking,” she huffs out a saddened laugh, her breath caressing me. I catch a hint of anise on her breath and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, the rest of my body freezing.

“Liv, have you been drinking?”

Chapter 4

#fanfic #fan fiction #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens band #fanfic writing #romance #sequel

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reigningqueenofwords · 1 year ago

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Dreams

Pairing: Steve x Reader Word count: 908 Warnings: Touch of smut

Read on AO3

Steve sat up, breathing heavily. His heart was pounding in his chest. Wet dreams weren’t something that happened to him anymore. Hell, the last one he could remember having was pre-serum! Licking his lips, he flopped back on his pillow, trying to calm down before pushing his bedding back to get himself cleaned up. His eyes went to the clock. His alarm would be going off in ten minutes anyway.

“Stevie…” He could hear you moans, even now. He just wanted to forget this dream ever happened. You weren’t interested in him, and now he wouldn’t be able to look at you without thinking of that. “Stevie!” He heard again. “Steve!” Finally, he snapped out of his thoughts as you jogged up to him.

He swallowed, trying not to look at you in your sports bra and leggings. “Morning.” He muttered, his mind trying to wander.

“I’m heading to the training room. Wanna come?” You asked sweetly.

“Stevie, fuck.” You gripped his hair, arching your back. “I’m gonna-” Your voice was cut off by a moan.

“Steve?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

He shook his head. “I gotta go.” He said before rushing off, leaving you standing there, very confused. Had you done something?

Sitting at the table, you were zone out. You’d finished your actual lunch, and had opted for a slice of cake for a treat. You licked your fork clean before taking the next bite.

Steve had walked in as your tongue came out to lick the fork, making him twitch in his pants. Was the universe against him that day?!

He looked down at you as you bobbed on his cock. Your eyes met his, making him groan. “You’re so good at that, doll.” He managed.

Shaking his head, he turned on his heels. He just couldn’t be near you. That was very, very clear. Which was going to be difficult when you lived together, and were friends.

Sam opened his door to see you standing there, clearly upset. “Is Steve mad at me?” You asked sadly.

He furrowed his brows. “Why would he be mad at you?” He asked, confused.

“I don’t know!” You whined. “The other day I asked him to workout with me. Usually he will. He said he had to go, and walked away. I’ve barely seen him since, and I can’t even get him to look at me.” You shrugged. “I just want my friend back.”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Go relax, and I’ll see what’s going on.” He told you, walking out of his room, shutting his door behind you.

You gave him a sad smile. “Thanks. I’ll be in my room.” You told him, heading in that direction.

He watched you go, hands on his hips. Everyone saw it but the two of you. You liked each other- probably loved- and neither seemed to realize it. And now this.

Sam found Steve where he could always find him when something was on his mind- with a punching bag. “Steve.” He said, approaching him.

“Yeah?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the bag as he slammed his fist into it again.

“Why are you avoiding Y/N?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He noticed how Steve’s form faltered for a split second, a look he couldn’t place washing over his features.

Steve’s hips rolled against your backside. You were on your stomach, his chest pressed against your back, his arms caging you in. You whimpered his name, turning him on even more.

“Because.” He managed. “Doesn’t matter.” He muttered, not wanting to admit he had a wet dream like some teenager.

Sam raised an eyebrow, moving to stop the bag from swinging back to Steve. “That’s why she showed up at my door nearly in tears thinking your mad at her?” He asked. “Said you won’t even look at her. Which is weird when you’re in love with her.” When Steve’s jaw twitched, his cheeks tinting pink, he smirked. “What, afraid you’re gonna slip up and tell her?” He teased, hoping to urge Steve in that direction. “She wants you, too, man.”

Steve finally looked at Sam. “What?”

“She loves you, too, and right now, she’s really upset. She’s in her room. Stay here, or go to her.” He let the bag go before leaving Steve with his thoughts.

“Come in!” You called when you heard a knock on your door. You assumed it was Sam. You were lying on the floor, arm over your eyes.

“Why are you on the floor?” Came Steve’s voice from above you.

You moved your arm and stared up at him. “The cool floor feels good.” You told him. “Talking to me now?” You asked. “What did I do?!”

He sighed, sitting next to you on the floor. “Nothing. It was all me.” He ran a hand through his hair. Sam’s words were running through his head about you loving him. He licked his lips, and his chest ached.

Moving so that you were sitting up, you watched him. “What’s going on, Stevie?” You asked softly.

Instead of answering you, his hand cupped your jaw and he kissed you. He half expected for you to shove him off, and tell him to get out. Instead, you paused for a moment before melting into the kiss. Your hand moved to his hair, deepening it. Pulling away slightly, he smiled. “Doesn’t matter.” He hoped that dream would be reality soon.

#steve x reader #steve x reader drabble

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starry-skies-116 · 2 years ago

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Personality Facts +More- Samuel Lee Witwicky (AU):

Introverted Pisces INFJ, what more can I say?

Autism, hyperphantasia, alexithymia.

The type of person to drink tea in the morning, also the type of person to prefer picnics on a spring day when the weather hits JUST right-

Also, Samuel’s def the type of person to love white chocolate sm. It’s one of his safe foods. One of his other preferred safe foods are those sour lychee candies/gummies. He actually has a whole list, in fact: among them include mac n cheese, specific sandwiches he buys from the deli, cake, fried rice, mooncakes, pancakes, bread with sprinkles and butter, REALLY well-made hot chocolate, home-cooked hotpot, potstickers, ramen, boba, california rolls, etc. Basically anything that’s warm and comforting.

He does like to eat ice cream, though- but every time he, Mikaela and Heidi go to get some he literally orders the same flavor and toppings every time (god me too).

Stomps on crunchy leaves in autumn when he thinks nobody’s looking 😗

Has way too many house plants that his mother always lets die. He never figures out why they always seemingly revive and regain their vitality near his presence until later events.

Has two or three plushies, one of which he sleeps with (and then there’s Heidi with a whole ass army of them-)

Loves to stargaze at the night sky, daydreaming about the life beyond there and fantasizing/planning obsessively over how his interactions with them will go if he were the one to make first contact (don’t tell him any spoilers now shhshshshhssh-)

Uses lots of emoticons when texting, especially ones like ‘:)’ ‘:3’ ‘:D’ ‘:(‘ and ‘<3’

Perceived as a cat person because of how mellow, non-confrontational and demure he acts, actually loves all animals (drawn to dogs to put some energy in his life because mans fr mimics behaviors similar to a cat sometimes sssshhhhh ♥️)

Typos/spelling errors frustrate him immensely, though he does his best not to show it (it doesn’t work lmao)

Mikaela and Heidi are his next-door neighbors, as well as his friends since childhood: they met when they were all five. Their friendship began to develop slowly due to many other factors in their life, but as they grew older they began to have the opportunities to spend more time together. The events of them crossing their own fates with that of the Autobots only served to make them further inseparable and strengthen their bonds.

They literally evolve from average supportive friendship still blooming awkwardly to ‘THIS IS MY BEST BITCH. WE ARE ONE UNIT. WE RIDE OR DIE.'

Sam primarily holds the role of the ‘default brain cell holder’ in the group. In other words, he holds the brain cell that they all share.

He’s also the shortest in the friend group, even though he’s average height and the height difference is in literal centimeters to the point where it’s barely noticeable (he’s 5’3/160 cm, Mikaela is 5’6/167 cm, and Heidi is 5’4/162.6 cm)

Elusive, enigmatic, secretive and reserved. Has all the traits of a leader and is decisive, despite being rather cautious and always opting for a peaceful solution. Strives to be kinder and wiser every day, so he can finally understand and truly connect with others. Prefers to keep things to himself- always shrewd and observant around people. Exceptionally prodigious beyond his years, master strategist, scientist and leader. He’s used to learning from his mistakes and making the best of bad situations, so he often denies any kind of pain he’s in no matter how severe it is.

That, or he literally does not recognize his pain at all. It takes him at least three to five business days at minimum for him to figure out his feelings and needs if those said sensations prolong for an extended period of time. If intense emotions flare up and then vanish just a moment after, it’ll fly right underneath his identification radar.

He’s sometimes prone to dissociative episodes to escape situations that remind him of trauma. Even with the AllSpark’s/Primus’s memories, anything that remotely triggers the traumatic parts of them causes him to slip into either a meltdown or a dissociative episode because of the emotions he feels and associates with them. Even when the memories are not Samuel’s… they still mean so much to him for no reason at all.

He spent his elementary and middle school years being homeschooled, and then the first time he’s ever been enrolled in public school was his Freshman Year.

His most exceptional traits are his curiosity, his compassion, and the sheer amount of effort he puts into trying to understand and communicate with others purely out of his kindness and care for people.

Samuel is very patient- however, that patience is born out of passivity. His lack of experience in social situations with those other than his friends, as well as a period in that time of bullying and ostracization, made him afraid to stick up for himself and to state his boundaries. When he came out to his parents and asked to transition on his thirteenth birthday, he was genuinely so scared that he was about to pass out.

As a result of his lack of socializing, he has a somewhat poor grasp of social interaction. His limited emotional expression and composed, impartial demeanor comes off as a bit eccentric and distant. Due to this, he admits to needing to study human emotions and ‘regular’ human interaction more. (autistic mood)

Sam loves to make either mental or physical note of things in his head that he deems of interest. Often, surprisingly they are odd but useful details that he somehow finds a way to utilize to his advantage.

Detests conflict, and always tries to negotiate and help people via kindness and not throwing hands. Despite the love he has and gives, he doesn’t really believe that he can ever protect anyone- not in a way that makes a difference. At the end of the day, all he wants is for people to get along.

Very observant of his surroundings- too observant. He jokingly refers to it as ‘gathering intelligence’, which isn’t too far off. Sensory issues essentially force him to pay attention to each and every little detail- but Samuel always insists that it’s fine, because ‘he’s used to it’ (shit explanation my guy-)

His favorite color changes from week to week- oftentimes it’s a whole color palette instead of just one color.

His camera roll isn’t really what you’d expect from someone as quiet and reserved as him: it’s full of cursed images, memes, stimboards, selfies of important moments with his friends, pictures of school notes and his workplace environment, and pictures of his dog.

He comes from a relatively wealthy family, but from the part-time jobs that he takes, he saves up money to buy more books, as well as anything that captivates him/immediately takes his interest hostage upon first glance (like I’m not kidding, it’s legit on-sight)

Whenever he’s captivated or genuinely, truly interested or enamored with something, he reacts like a cat in response to seeing shiny things. His eyes widen and get brighter, and his pupils dilate. He does barely noticeable stims (such as fiddling with his bracelet or jade pendant), and he leans closer, shuffling his feet to approach closer and closer without even realizing it.

He loves finding interesting rocks/geodes on occasion, and secretly making DIY-at-home jewelry at his part-time mechanic job with them and the equipment at his workbench. To get away with it, he arrives early, before his shift begins. He then shares the product with those he makes (whenever he isn’t burnt out): it’s his love language, finding cool rocks and making them into ‘socially acceptable’ gifts because he fears rejection sm 💔

Literally a sci-fi nerd. Gushes over shit like Star Wars and Star Trek and all that: has written novels and drawn fan art before, and basically died inside when Mikaela and Heidi discovered his stash in the closet when he was ten (bullied for his interests because other people can be assholes sometimes). He thought they both would leave him and never want to associate with him again, turns out they spent the next hour squealing over their blorbos, writing up headcanons/theories, and finding makeshift tools to cosplay characters.

Can’t relax his mind to save his life, honestly. There’s always a bottomless pit in his mind of ‘you are not doing enough, do enough so you can relax’ but it’s never enough. Whenever he’s restless, he fiddles with his clay bead bracelet or his jade pendant so that he doesn’t let his mind wander or race to places he doesn’t want it to go.

Low self-esteem, beats himself up for every mishap and mistake- (RSD guys, it sucks major ass-). Still has the occasional intrusive thought that nobody actually loves him, they just tolerate/ ‘put up with’ him, due to his childhood of being somewhat sheltered and socially ostracized by literally every kid except for his only two friends.

Even when he deadass has not only two friends, but a federal agent, the lead researcher of N.E.S.T, and a WHOLE GIANT FCKIN ROBOT ALIEN ARMY ready to straight commit WAR-CRIMES FRESH FROM THE OVEN FOR HIM at a MOMENT’S notice-

Dances as a hobby, loves to sketch scenery. He visits the city’s theater every other Saturday to greet and play with the kids living around that area who also come to visit. Community and connection is important to him, since he was deprived of several life experiences in his childhood.

As smart as he is, he desires nothing more than to learn with hands-on experience. He’s spent the entirety of his sheltered upbringing learning from books.

Literal GOD in the kitchen. He spent his entire childhood being somewhat sheltered, so he’s developed quite the pantheon of hobbies that he revolves his day around in his pastime. Baking sweets for others particularly makes him happy.

Living in symbiosis with the AllSpark embedded in your literal heart is… an experience, to say the least. Nevertheless, he finds a way to navigate the experience with the help of his family and friends.

Has a brotherly relationship with Bumblebee and it’s seriously one of the most wholesome things ever. Like seriously, when he called Bumblebee “gēge” on accident (“older/big brother” in Chinese), Bro just… had to physically resist the urge to straight up curl into a fetal position on the floor and cry pure joy. Mans was straight grinning from pure elation from one side of his visor to the other once he used his translators and realized what it meant-

Literally, Autobots like Ratchet and Optimus and Ironhide, etc etc… they will literally take ONE look at this guy watching the beat of a butterfly’s wings or something and immediately go: “mmmm yes he is very much son-shaped”

He can’t really read tone or social cues, ESPECIALLY when it comes to being directed at him. Whenever Jazz is being sarcastic or makes jokes that he can’t recognize the tone of, Samuel becomes so genuinely confused. And speaking of that, one of his habits when he’s confused and/or straining his mind to try and understand something, is to tilt his head and cross his arms with a finger raised to his lips to tap against it. Once again, it’s one of his stims that pops up when he’s trying really hard to discern an answer, or a proper way to navigate an unfamiliar situation with little clues.

#transformers #transformers au #transformers reboot au #concept stuff #au facts #sam witwicky #samuel lee witwicky #he is an icon #we stan

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stellardeer · 11 months ago

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this is not about tumblr because fuck these people, but it does genuinely boggle my mind that people get mad about websites trying to generate revenue. Like I get that the internet used to be free and wild and anyone could just host a website like it was nothing, but even back then there were still costs involved. Even if you were able to run servers entirely out of your home, there's power costs to that, there's a cost to DNS hosting your URL, which you can technically go without but it'll be a lot harder for people to find your site. And if you consider programming and graphics to be a form of labor then yeah you're also spending time and labor building and maintaining a website and maybe some people can afford to do that out of the goodness of their own hearts but if you want a site to have 24/7 support it's gonna require someone to have 24/7 compensation for doing that.

In the olden days all of this was paid for by advertisements. But now everyone uses adblockers and also ads fucking suck in general so it's not a viable way to sustain a site anymore. So yeah, some sites are gonna start rolling out premium plans or selling stupid little cosmetics or just straight up begging for donations every other week just to stay afloat. Or worse, selling user data to advertisers to keep the site free and you have no way to opt out or even know that they are doing this.

Again, fuck tumblr staff, but I was genuinely surprised and happy to see people actually get on board with the idea of buying ad-free or the little badges and shit when they first came out and spreading the word that if we enjoy a service and want to keep using it then we need to financially compensate the people running that service. It was great to see people actually starting to realize like 'hey yeah it sucks that things can't be free forever but the team of people running this place that i love so much need to afford to eat so they can have $5 from me sure' (Granted that didn't last fucking long because they won't stop banning trans women and POC and Palestinians, but it was good to at least see people getting the idea)

But I still see sooo much hatred on other sites towards staff for like.. adding more paid features or trying to increase the price of certain cosmetics or bringing in ads, and I get it, I truly truly do, I use uBlock just like everyone else and I'm not turning it off no matter how fucking much I love a website, I would rather give them $40/year than look at a single fucking ad, but some people act like certain websites existence and continued service/maintenance is just.. a given??? Like?? I wish just as much as the next fucking guy that the internet could idk be subsidized or something, like I don't even know what the alternative is, that's the thing. It's very much a have your cake and eat it to type situation, like if you enjoy using something that is not a necessity, like I'm not talking about having to use the internet to apply for jobs or do taxes or whatever else that damn well should be fucking free, but like games or hobby sites, whether it's run by 1 person in a studio apartment or a whole corporation, it's like paying dues to a club. And maybe you get lucky and even though you can't afford it, the dues that someone else pays are more than enough to compensate both of you sharing the space, but the space needs to be paid for either way.

And I know that it's really an issue with capitalism as a whole, like ideally not only should the internet be free I think that everything else should be free too! But I don't think that you're going to solve that by letting your favorite browser game die because you refused to compensate them for the work they were doing. Especially if you continue to show up and use their services without paying, you're just draining them even faster using up their resources. You're not sending a message to the company that they need to get funding from elsewhere all you're doing is showing investors that this type of thing is not profitable and thus no more of it will be funded. Most of these website also don't want to be doing what they're doing to try to stay afloat, and you're not going to stop microtransactions from existing by "boycotting" the services that start implementing them, you're just going to push every fun or interesting platform out until we'll be left with nothing but the data-selling websites. If you want things to be different you need to look to your politicians, not blame everything that's wrong with the world on the 25 people running a horse website, idk.

Also don't even get me started on how nobody seems to mind that the systems that maintain the internet are built on the backs of the impoverished and enslaved around the world and the amount of energy it takes to run all of it is killing the fucking planet, but like god forbid Wikipedia asks you for $3!!!!

#idk i spent way too long writing and rewriting this #like dont get me wrong im not above it all im still here i am a web developer i make money doing this shit #but i feel like it's stupid to act like wanting free internet is a socialist issue when people are dying in fucking mines to make this shit #and like yeah you can care about more than 1 thing at a time but i feel like it's hard to argue that free internet forever and always is -#- a good thing when it is truly not sustainable as it is now like i feel like maybe we should be advocating for better energy systems first #maybe advocate for more transparency in manufacturing and better working conditions on a global scale before we try asking for free shit?#and they are not mutually exclusive maybe if we owned the means of production then the internet COULD be fucking free

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princesssarisa · 1 month ago

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The fact that this article counts Les Misérables as one of the shows that "frame themselves as revolutionary, but continue to push the voice, worldview, and values of the status quo" brings up all my ambivalence about being a fan of that show.

"Is it really a good musical that captures Victor Hugo's progressive socio-political messages?" I wonder to myself. "Or should I agree with those Hugophiles who see it as just a schlocky, de-politicized, commercialized bastardization of the novel, and only enjoy it as a guilty pleasure at most?"

On the one hand, it does speak out for the miserable and the outcasts of society – the poor and homeless, abused children, convicts, sex workers – and against abuse of power and unjust law. We're made to root for the revolutionaries, to grieve when they die, and to be inspired to "join in [their] crusade" to create a better world.

But at the same time, the action is set in a bygone, "romantic" time and place, which makes it too easy to disconnect it from anything it parallels in the modern world. Nor does the libretto clearly define what the revolutionaries are fighting either for or against, except a generic sense that the government is doing nothing to help the poor. I once read an article that cited this vagueness as essential to the musical's widespread success, because any audience member can project their own political views onto the insurrection, left or right. But that's the last thing Hugo would ever have wanted: he would roll over in his grave at the sight of Donald Trump enjoying the musical and his administration co-opting "Do You Hear the People Sing?" Detractors also accuse the musical of revolving too much around the characters' personal emotions instead of social commentary: for example, by romanticizing Éponine's role and emphasizing her unrequited love instead of her poverty. And they complain that making the Thénardiers into comic relief characters prevents the audience from taking their cruelty seriously or caring that society lets them (and real people like them) get away with it.

And then there's the fact that Boublil and Schönberg were both of the May '68 generation. The influence of May '68 on the revolutionaries' portrayal adds a definite vibe of "we tried, we fought, it didn't work," with its framing of the rebels as tragically naïve, inexperienced "schoolboys" whose self-sacrifice achieved "nothing." I once read a review of the show by a critic who genuinely thought the intended message was "only individual redemption is possible, social change will never happen."

Icing on the cake is Cameron Mackintosh's refusal to lean too far left in marketing the musical. For example, the show's social media pages unironically celebrate milestones of the British royal family, despite the plot's glorifying of anti-monarchist revolution, and the US Tour didn't cancel its scheduled run at the Kennedy Center after Trump's takeover, even as others shows like Hamilton did. (Though at least a few cast members are boycotting.)

Still, maybe the critics who dwell on all these things are being too hard on the show. Hugo's message of social justice has always been clear to me through the musical, and I do think being a fan of the musical since middle school has sharpened my social conscience. It humanized criminals and sex workers in my young eyes, it taught me about prisoner abuse, police brutality, child abuse in foster care, and other relevant issues, and it's influenced the work I do with the homeless to this day. And as this post points out, complaining that the musical and other adaptations "focus on love instead of social justice" is slightly missing the point, since Hugo portrays love as being central to social justice.

It is fair to criticize the musical for being less of a socio-political call to arms than its source material, and for leaving itself open for co-opting by the wrong people. Still, I want to believe it does have progressive value.

@the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa

"The stage musical is a popular format to try and capture the discontent of the... something. There's a lot of those. But RENT is literally based on the first "We Have Been Left Behind by the System: The Musical".

La Bohème was the original... that.

Puccini's La Bohème was arguably the start of the mainstream counter-cultural "fighting the man" musical. It is the basis of not only RENT, but many modern films and musicals, most notably Moulin Rouge which, although based on La Traviata, borrows arguably more from Bohème than Traviata, or the film from which it takes its name, but not its exclamation point. or the film from which it takes its name, but not its exclamation point!

I'd summarize the plot, but it's basically identical to RENT; swap out tuberculosis with AIDS, the Latin Quarter with Alphabet City, the 1840s with the 1980s, and American-ify the characters' names a bit.

Puccini's Bohème was popular because its characters were relatable and the story was emotionally charged.

The real revelation here is that his opera is about an underclass; he isn't writing about kings or dukes, but about starving artists who feel that they've been left behind.

It is truly a universal story translatable to any era. Phantom of the Opera also draws a lot of inspiration from Bohème in that it goes a long way with raw, simple, shallow emotionality.

But the difference between Phantom and RENT is, Phantom wasn't trying to make a grand statement about society.

And the truth is, La Bohème isn't either. Not really.

It exists more in the same vein as Moulin Rouge. See, they use terms like "revolution" in Moulin Rouge, but really it's about emotionality with an artistic movement set as the backdrop.

Shows like this have romantic ideas in the guise of revolution, but none of them challenge any existing power structures in a way that might alienate the wealthy audience.

Every decade sort of had its own: the 1960s had Hair, the 70s had Jesus Christ Superstar, 80's had Les Mis, 90s had RENT.

2000s... *wanted* to have Spring Awakening (but really they had Avenue Q).

They all tried to capture the voice of the class of youngs that feel left out of the system, although all of these are what George Ishikawa has called "bourgeois" or "finished theater".

In other words, they frame themselves as revolutionary, but continue to push the voice, worldview, and values of the status quo; in this case, middle-class white kids who want to pass off their home movies as "true art."

(...)

Echoing Marx, Boal argues that the dominant art is the art of the dominant class, who control the means to disseminate art; in this case, Broadway shows.

All of these shows revolve around the social discontent of some underclass, but the shows did not reach the mainstream because some underclass propelled them there.

RENT did claw its way up from off-Broadway, yes, but only because it found success with the people who had money.

Hamilton is a perfect example of this phenomenon in action right now; high demand and extremely limited quantities mean that only the wealthy control access to the stage show.

A lottery system does exist that sells tickets for $10, but there are 21 of these tickets *per show*, and thousands of entrants; real access comes in the form of people with thousands of dollars to drop on tickets.

And because Broadway shows are so uniquely expensive in terms of consumable art, they have to walk a fine line between being trendy and maybe even a little edgy, but not enough to put the people with money outside of their comfort zones.

It presents a multi-culti hip-hop narrative about the life of Alexander Hamilton and the foundation of the country, but it is ultimately really, really reassuring about the American experiment.

Who lives, who dies, who tells your story? The ruling class does.

If you want people to hear your message, it first has to get the okay from your wealthy patrons.

I mean, it's no coincidence that the first hip-hop musical to become a huge hit happens to be about the whitest thing ever.

And Hamilton is excellent, don't get me wrong, y'know?

It's just not here to challenge any ideas on American exceptionalism or start any revolutions.

Does every musical need to necessarily challenge the culture it's trying to sell itself to?

God, no!

I mean, how else would I see Phantom for the 20th time?!

But anyway, not every musical, even the ones with explicit revolutionary text, needs to be trying to tear down the system.

But what would a revolution look like if it had been included in RENT rather than the subtext being "reject the system" instead of "change it"?

Well, probably what was going down in Alphabet City, in the 80s, in the real world.

Protests, societal upheaval, all those unpretty things that were very much going on during the AIDS Crisis.

They were not designed to make the type of person with hundreds of dollars to drop on a Broadway show ticket comfortable.

But Les Mis does not position itself in opposition to the culture it is trying to sell itself to.

Neither does Hamilton ...

but RENT does.

And if your musical spends its entirety dressing down the phoney-baloney culture while at the same time kind of being its very embodiment... then we may need to have words."

(Rent: Look Pretty and Do Little as Possible)

"George Bush!

Is only for now

We're gonna back up this idea that, you know, we tried, we fought, it didn't work, so right now we just have to wait it out, we will survive this

Don't stress!

Relax!

Let life roll of your backs"

(Protest Music from the Bush Era)

#rent #la boheme #les mis #les miserables #musicals #musical theatre #themes #analysis #revolution #social commentary

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