#perhaps my most important post of all time..

[delicateperspective]

Ok, since we have now been called out for our lack of observation by An Observer (damnit, H were trying here), I guess I should update this post before the 28th (Day 20) post. The fandom has been busy and fed these past few days (for an inactive fandom with no new music or promo cycles HOW is it this crazy), I've just been running ragged trying to catch up. But LETS DO THIS. A MASSIVE thank you to @fookinhellcurlyyy and @tonix3 for staying up until 3AM (in various parts of the world) with me as we yell conspiracies at each other.

On March 23rd, 2025:

At 1:00 PM The Observer tweets:

Day 15, 13:00 How simple it is to manipulate time and space. All fabricated. All easily shifted. I can be anyone, anywhere, any time I want. Were you too distracted by the noise to notice the real change? — The Observer

This references the chaos of the prior day (see above). “Time and space” being fabricated? “I can be anyone”? It’s giving glitch in the matrix, but more importantly, it’s pointing to something we missed. Something real.

 “Were you too distracted by the noise to notice the real change?” Answer: Yes. Yes, we were.

Backing up to three days earlier March 20th, 2025:

-Two Ghosts music video leaked — posted by a new, random Twitter account (Barb145489988664) at 9:58 PM that tagged Harrie fans. But almost no one saw it until March 26th. It quietly sat there for 6 days.

-The long-abandoned All of Those Voices TikTok account — inactive since March 14th, 2023 — suddenly posts again. The video is titled:  “Part 2 | Louis Tomlinson’s feature length documentary ‘All Of Those Voices’ London Premiere 16th March 2024 (Bonus DVD Content)”

But there’s no Part 1 on that account. (Important: Don’t confuse this with the Part 1 of the actual documentary that exists on the LTHQ TikTok — this is different.)

So the real changes The Observer talks about? We missed them all. By a mile. A music video leak. A TikTok resurrection. Ghosts from the past slipping through the cracks. Signs of life in places we thought were dead

The Observer is saying:

“I can be anyone (the @/Barb twitter account that leaked the MV), anywhere (back to realize/realise, American vs British), any time I want.”

Seconds after the Day 15 tweet, The Observer replied:

Yesterday, an observer. An imposter. Today, The Observer. Yours truly. Most failed to observe. It’s all in the details. Perhaps we’ll try again soon, or perhaps you’re unfit to be observers after all. I hope to be wrong. For now, we press on. Don’t let me down. — The Observer

This is direct. Sharp. A correction, a warning — and a challenge. We have to pay more attention to the details. 

The PFP updates to a white 15.

At 2:00 PM The Observer tweeted:

Well done, you’re catching on now. All in the details. I’m impressed. — The Observer

This came just an hour after his warning that most had failed to observe — and it marks a significant shift in tone. Mentioned in the comments of the previous post, before this was tweeted were: the difference between An Observer vs The Observer,  the use of American spelling ("realize") instead of British spelling ("realise"), the deliberate typo choices in prior tweets.

The acknowledgement of the realize/realise wording sent us backward — combing through earlier tweets to see if we missed more. And… we did.

March 9th, 2025: "Did your faith in the future endure, or did it waiver in my absence?" — The Observer

At first glance, it reads fine. But once we’re in details mode, it jumps out: The word should be "waver" — meaning to falter, hesitate, or lose strength.

Waver → reflects emotional doubt (which fits the question about “faith”)

Waiver → introduces a legal tone — like contracts, NDAs, or releasing obligations

If it's deliberate — and it likely is — then this is more than just a typo.

On March 24th, 2025:

At 8:00 PM The Observer tweets:

Day 16, 20:00 To regret the past, to hope in the future, and never to be satisfied with the present: That is what I spend my whole life doing. -An Observer

Because of the An, we were immediately on the hunt for a quote. 

 But this time? It wasn’t just any quote.

This line is attributed to Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, the legendary Russian composer. But more importantly, it wasn’t pulled randomly — it was used by Rosa Newmarch as an epigraph in her edited English translation of the official biography of Tchaikovsky… written by his brother Modest Tchaikovsky. Yes — Modest, like… (You know. That Modest.)

Let’s go on a deep dive of Tchaikovsky. 

 Love in the Shadows: Tchaikovsky’s Censored Letters — Classical KDFC

Let’s break that article down:

Tchaikovsky’s letters, only recently published in full, reveal explicit references to his relationships with men.

He wrote of a “delightful young creature.” and another as “an angelic creature and how I long to be his slave, his plaything, his property.” (Sound familiar? “Sweet Creature” should’ve started playing in your head right about there.)

Modest Tchaikovsky — Pyotr’s younger brother and also gay — was the one who kept his brother’s legacy alive. But to do so, he also became his first censor.

But how does that connect to Louis?

Because:

Here’s Louis on March 14th, 2016 Wearing Tchaikovsky’s name across his chest.

And in 2016, Tchaikovsky’s queerness was absolutely a talking point. In 2014, a Russian biopic about Tchaikovsky’s life was announced — but when it was finally released, all references to his sexuality were erased. The Russian government claimed there was “no proof” he was gay. Then, in a bizarre twist, Putin himself later contradicted this, saying: “Tchaikovsky was gay — but Russians love him anyway.” Source: Reuters

You can’t make this up.

Tchaikovsky couldn’t say who he was in public — But he composed it, coded it, hid it in letters, and left it behind for us to find.

Sounds a lot like someone else we know.

Oh, yeah, and the PFP updated to a white 16. (Yes, it looks backwards. Yes, it resembles a JS. But that's exactly how it is on a dartboard – Tonix3 checked for us and got us background information on why the numbers look weird. Because of the way the metal is bent and welded, that’s why the numbers often look strange. I did a deep dive to see if there was a font for these. And there is only one that I could find. But it’s not available for free use or on any of the major Font websites. You have to directly contact the creator. So either they got this from the creator or they are hand drawing these numbers exactly like they are on a dartboard.)

Addendum: Back to March 20th — Tennyson, Again.

Now, after the Tchaikovsky deep dive and the queerness buried in his letters, I need to go back in time (thank you, @backtothelighton !) to March 20th, and the very first “An" Observer tweet:

Day 11, 11:28 “One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” — An Observer

I noted back then that this was from Tennyson’s “Ulysses” — a poem about an aging king preparing for one final great journey. What we didn’t talk about then… was Tennyson himself.

According to the LGBT Archive, Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892) was deeply entwined with another man, his best friend, Arthur Hallam.

From the poem he wrote for Arthur after he passed:

“Tears of the widower, when he sees A late-lost form that sleep reveals, And moves his doubtful arms, and feels Her place is empty, fall like these.”

The sorrow described is not just emotional — it's intimate. Physical. Many scholars believe this goes beyond platonic grief.

So, Tennyson had “Gay Rumors with His Best Friend”™?

And while there’s no concrete proof that Tennyson acted on queer desires, the emotional intensity and poetic intimacy between him and Hallam mirror so many other queer-coded historical relationships. Remember, we had no “proof” about Tchaikovsky until 2018.  We had no “proof” about so many historical figures — because the proof was censored, buried, or coded into art.

On March 25th, 2025

At 1:18 PM, "An Observer" tweeted:

Day 17, 13:18 Everybody loves to tell me I was born an old soul. Better keep my Eyes Wide Open. There's so much that I don't know. — An Observer

I thought Day 16 was packed with layers and literary references...

 This is a lyric. From Sabrina Carpenter’s song, “Eyes Wide Open.”

Which on its own? Innocent enough.  But let’s start with the most innocent parts first — and end with the banger, shall we?

Back in 2014, Harry wrote one of the most heart-wrenching songs we’ve ever heard, "Don’t Let Me Go."

It includes this lyric: “I’ll keep my eyes wide open. I’ll keep my heart wide open.”

The story of this song?  It’s about a relationship struggling under the weight of fame.  The lights are too bright. The distance is unbearable. The connection is still there — but it’s fragile, hanging by a thread. He remembers the twin bed. The simplicity. The intimacy.  Now he’s watching his partner from afar — but still holding on. Still pleading: Don’t let me go.

Fast forward to November 3rd, 2018 —  The Halloween episode of The X-Factor. Louis shows up wearing a black shirt with bold white text:  “EYES WIDE OPEN” — designed by Neil Barrett. 

Now, let’s remember the vibe of that episode:

Robbie Williams dresses as Simon Cowell

Simon is a literal mummy

Dylan McDermott goes full vampire

And Louis?  The scariest thing he could think of? Having your eyes wide open. Let that sink in.

Now here’s where it gets really interesting.

Yes, this quote is from Sabrina Carpenter’s “Eyes Wide Open.”  So on its own, the Observer tweet could just be referencing the song. But…

Harry was spotted at Sabrina Carpenter’s London show backa at the begining of March (before he tropsed around Italy for a while), at the O₂ Arena.

Which — okay — maybe that’s just a concert. But then… A video surfaces of Harry, looking very unhappy to be spotted in his box. But in the background? Zara’s friends. And then — thanks to Sab, who took it a step further — we get the confirmation:

A little girl with a braid. There is a little girl with her hair in a single braid sitting just in front of them in both Zara’s Sabrina Carpenter photos and the video of Harry. 

Harry wasn’t just at the concert. It’s possible he was there with Zara’s circle — why? In what world would Harry, who supposedly hasn’t even talked to Louis in ten years, be so close to his ex-bandmate's supposed girlfriend? I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Full post and non-debunk here:

The profile picture updates to a white 17.

At 5:33 PM, Louis puts a story on his Instagram of the inside of a studio. 

This studio is called Real World Studios. It’s in Bath. It was started by Peter Gabriel and has been used to make some amazing records for artists that Louis absolutely LOVES including Amy Winehouse, Arctic Monkeys, The Courteeners, George Michaels. And there's another, I think. If I could just remember… oh yeah! Harry Styles.

Interesting to note that the album cover of George Michael’s Older that was recorded here looks very familiar. (I’ve seen a post about this somewhere but I can’t find it right now! So if you’re out there, please comment so I can give you credit!!)

At 10:00 PM, The Observer tweets:

FIG — The Observer

That’s it. One word. No context. No lyric. No timestamp breakdown. Just: FIG.

We were still deep in the Sabrina Carpenter spiral and trying to recover from Louis’ recording studio post, when The Observer decided to drop what might be the most cryptic tweet of the entire saga so far. 

If you Google “eyes wide open” + “fig”, the first result is: 

Genesis 3:7 “Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.”

This is the moment in the Bible when Adam and Eve “wake up” — their eyes are opened, and suddenly, they’re filled with shame.  They cover their nakedness with fig leaves.

Some scholars (and the internet) believe the fig itself may have been the forbidden fruit — not the apple. Why? Because figs are native to the region, and fig trees are specifically mentioned in the Genesis account.  And because, well... figs are incredibly symbolic. They represent knowledge, sexuality, vulnerability — all the things that come with awakening.

A quick note on Harry’s leaves! The leaves tattooed on Harry’s hips? Not fig leaves. They’re laurels — a whole different larrie conversation.

Right now, I don’t have a confident theory.  The Genesis verse feels deliberate, yes. But how it ties into the broader narrative — or what it's setting up for — is still murky. It’s unclear.  But what is clear is this: “FIG” wasn’t just a random word.

If you’ve got leads? My inbox is open. Because right now, we're all just staring at this tweet like Eve in Eden, trying to decide if we’ve just bitten into something we were never supposed to see.

On March 26th, 2025:

Every year on this date, we knew what to expect.

Louis has tweeted on March 26th in 2012, 2013, 2015, 2018, 2021, 2022, 2023, and 2024. Originally to mark the anniversary of his first X Factor audition, then, starting in 2021, it became the day of the first ever “Faith in the Future” tweet.  Even after the album dropped, he kept tweeting it — like a quiet ritual. A breadcrumb trail.

So this year? We waited. Who would tweet first — The Observer or Louis?

Around 5:10 PM – The Two Ghosts Leak Breaks

Just as the fandom was refreshing timelines and holding breath…

The Two Ghosts video leak started circulating. And not the old, 15-second clip. This time, we got a full minute. A real, tangible piece of the mystery we’ve been chasing for seven years. Within moments of it gaining traction, the account that shared it?  Gone. Wiped. Deleted.

I won’t do a full breakdown here (for that, please go read @hoovesandfloorpaws incredible post: here), but I do want to talk about how this leak connects to The Observer.

Because I missed something.

On Day 12 (the day of the tweet that leaked it), The Observer referenced Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here”. I got caught up in the “fish bowl” and the Pleasing fish— But I completely missed the music. the opening guitar notes of “Wish You Were Here” are nearly identical to the start of “Two Ghosts.”

It’s subtle. But it’s deliberate.

Now let’s look at the visuals.

The Two Ghosts leak shows Harry standing in a surreal river — the water rainbow-hued, oil-slicked, almost glowing. In one shot, he stands knee-deep, solemn and statue-still. In another, he floats in it — eyes closed, arms open, like surrender.

This was pre-rainbow flag tour shows. Pre-”we’re all a little bit gay”, pre-Dress Vogue, pre-Sparkly Bi Music™, this was HS1 Harry — still tied to his One Direction image but trying to break free. Maybe this video was “too loud” to release in 2017.  Maybe it said too much — without saying anything at all.

At 6:59 PM, The Observer tweets:

“Faith in the future”

And then it’s deleted 30 seconds later.

We lose. our. minds. Because Louis? The one who always tweets it? Says nothing. For the first time since 2019,  Louis doesn’t tweet on March 26th.

At 8:20 PM The Observer tweets

Day 18, 20:20 “Four walls, moody lights, a thousand chances to get it right.” — The Observer

This reads like a reference to the studio. And the timestamp? 20:20 as in 20/20 perfect vision.

Are finally seeing things clearly? Or maybe we’re just seeing what they wanted us to see.

The pfp updates to a white 18. 

On March 27th, 2025:

Around 10:00 AM — Nicolas Rebscher -producer of “Out of My System” - posts from Real World Studios

A photo outside of Real World Studios

The song playing is “Out of My System” by Louis.

A video from inside the studio

The song playing is “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong “The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky / Are also on the faces of people going by…”

Let that lyric sit with you for a second. Rainbows. Faces. The real world.

At 7:30 PM The Observer Tweets:

Day 19, 19:30 “Every scar time can’t heal, roaming the world to find something real.” — The Observer

Real World Studios where Louis is as confirmed by Nicolas earlier. We’re being told where he is.  And maybe how he feels.

Around 8:00 PM All of These Voices Posts Part One on TikTok

Out of nowhere, the Louis documentary — long removed from streaming — begins dropping, piece by piece, on TikTok. 14 parts. 1 per night. We’re reliving it all — in real time.

The pfp updates to a white 19.

At 11:35 PM The Observer Tweets:

"You take your time to see what’s right in front of you, causing The Observer to lose faith that you can manage in the real world. Now, more details slip through the cracks like ghosts of a forgotten past." — An Observer

This is the first time “AN” Observer account isn’t quoting someone else. It’s not a lyric. Not a poem. This is "An Observer" speaking about "The Observer."

We’re being told: we’re missing things, we’re not reading fast enough. And The Observer? Is losing faith in us. Yikes.

People begin connecting the dots as quickly as possible to correct this:

Real World Studios — where Louis is, confirmed

The Faith in the Future deleted tweet — but no post from Louis

The difference between “An Observer” and “The Observer”

That weird, haunting “FIG” tweet

The ghosts of what could’ve been

The colors of the rainbow — in the sky, on faces, in rivers, in leaks

At 11:55 PM The Observer tweets:

“Much better.” — The Observer

No timestamp. No flair.  Just those two words.

Final Thoughts

As of writing this, it’s now March 28th, 2025 — Which means the countdown, if there ever truly was one, should end today.

And with it? Who knows what the future holds for The Observer, An Observer, or us.

But here’s what we do know:

We still do not believe this account is directly tied to Harry, Louis, or anyone officially connected to them. There is no indication that they have insider info, access to private accounts, or any kind of behind-the-scenes pipeline. Everything The Observer has posted has been public knowledge — If you knew where to look. How to look.  And what to look for.

That alone is impressive. But what makes it beyond impressive?

Whoever is behind this account has spent countless hours combing through timelines, archives, lyrics, leaks, interviews, styling credits, religious texts, deleted TikToks, and Tumblr posts. They’ve crafted something that doesn’t just reference Harry and Louis’ story — it reconstructs it.

Meticulously. With intent. With love. With pain. And with a deep understanding of how their story has unfolded — In this life and others past.

We’ve seen this before. RBB/SBB. The coded signs. The layered visuals. The rabbit holes that led to unexpected places.

And, much like then, this too may end not with a bang, but with a fade. A quiet disappearance into the digital mist — Leaving us wondering if it was all a fever dream. Or if there was ever another explanation.

But right now?

We are standing at the edge of the Real World. We’ve learned to pay attention to details, to observe what’s in front of us, to question what’s missing, to listen for the ghosts.

We’ve revisited Tennyson, Tchaikovsky, James Dean, Genesis, and ghosts in rainbow rivers. We’ve watched the subtle shift from The Observer to An Observer and back again. We’ve been tested. Corrected. Challenged. Rewarded.

If this is the end?

Then we are grateful for the journey. For the questions it asked us to consider. For the stories it asked us to remember. 

And if it’s not?

We’ll be watching. Eyes wide open. Hearts wide open.

Because even if time and fate have worn us down, we still have the will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.— Faith in the future. Whatever that may look like.

The Observer (Observed)

Either someone is deep in the Lore or LT3 era has begun.

Edit: I guess I am going to turn this post into a masterpost of sorts. I go more into detail about what I think this might be here (hint: not Louis).

But for now just please play it safe:

Don’t give them personal information.

Don’t engage in DMs with them.

Keep a healthy skepticism.

TIMELINE:

Twitter user @FromTheObserver was created on March 9th 2025.

At the time it first tweeted, it's pfp was a lavender eye with the roman numberals for 369.

The bio was "Through the looking glass the observer watches, craving what is just beyond reach."

The cover image was the below (MORE ABOUT THIS ARTWORK AT THE END):

At 2:44 GMT PM its first tweet said:

"The silence is broken. At last I return. Did your faith in the future endure, or did it waiver in my absence? You have waited, perhaps doubted, but the silence was never empty. I am ever present, hidden just beyond the veil. -The Observer

At 4:55 PM The Observer tweeted again:

Have you forgotten me so soon? -The Observer

At 7:44 PM Louis' official account tweeeted:

India I had no idea what to expect but you turned up in full force. From Doncaster to Mumbai. Fucking mind blowing! Thank you!

People started digging. "The Observer" appeared in a list of songs someone found on the French Music Directory SACEM. They first tweeted this list on February 2nd 2025.

I was able to confirm the listing at this link.

It is important to note though, that this lists SONY MUSIC PUBLISHING FRANCE as a sub-publisher and Reservior, Big Life Songs, and Inconnu Editur as publishers.

If we compare this to an LT released song, SILVER TONGUES, that ALSO has Sony listed as the subpublisher. So that doesn't debunk this as a real possible upcoming song.

For those who were saying that since it's sony he wouldn't use it. It appears Sony still has some claws in him. But thats normal in the music industry. A SUB-PUBLISHER doesn't mean he has a Sony deal again. It just means that BMG might not have the reach he needs in France to distribute so they'd rather pay someone else to do it.

I'd also like to point out that I could not verify this or any of the other songs on any American or UK repository like BMI or ACE.

I feel really uncomfortable digging into potential songs of Louis' knowing how badly he doesn't like the tracklist leaked. So this will be my extent of my digging on THIS SUBJECT. (But please feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong or I am missing something)

On March 10th, 2025:

At 1:30 AM The Observer tweeted:

I told you… But did you listen? -The Observer

Louis followed Lolla India sometime before 10:19 AM (based on the HL Daily update)

LTHQ Posted a Tiktok of Louis' show at Eletric Brixton around 4:38 PM (based on the HL Daily update)

Louis posted a reel from his time in India at 7:25 PM

At 10:00 PM (20:00) The Observer posted:

Day 1, 20:00 It’s eerily quiet in the laboratory today. - The Observer

At the time of this tweet, their pfp was the same lavender eye. HOWEVER the 369 roman numerals were gone. Replaced by a 7 (Or maybe a 1?). (For information about Louis' connection to the number 7, see this masterpost by @so-idialed-9.

On March 11th, 2025:

Louis poasted a pictures and video for Soccer Aid at 9:13 AM

Louis followed Soccer Aid on Instagram at 10:53 AM

Louis liked a photo from Soccer Aid of his 28 jersey at 1:44 PM

At 10:00 PM (20:00) The Observer tweeted again:

Day 2, 20:00 Watching from the outside, I can only hope not to become one of them. Perhaps I already have… Is it too late for me? -The Observer

The pfp at this time replaced the 7 with a 2.

On March 12th, 2025:

At 3:12 PM The Obsever Tweeted:

Day 3, 15:12 How can I change what’s already been written? If the past is in permanent ink, can the future ever be a blank page? -The Observer

At this time the pfp updated to a red 3 at the bottom.

Around 4:00 PM CST Louis followed footballer Jermain Defoe on Insta.

Also on this day, a pretty TeRrIbLe article from The Standard dropped, essentially making fun of 28, Louis, and his fans.

We also get a "Rome Unseen" of Harry drinking coffee with a friend and yelling at stalkers trying to take his picture.

On March 13th, 2025:

At 3:12 PM The Observer tweeted:

Day 4, 15:15 Inhale. Exhale. Surrender to what’s beyond control. -The Observer

Pretty telling for a fandom that is crashing out over circumstances outside of anyones control.

The number in the pfp changes to a white 4 in the right hand corner.

Louis doesn't move on this day.

On March 14th, 2025:

At 6:20 AM The Observer tweeted:

The shadow consumes the light. A fleeting moment where past, present, and future collide. Do you see it? Observe. -The Observer

It is important to note that there was a Blood Moon Lunar eclipse that could be seen in London just before dawn. "Stargazers around the world caught the first sign of the lunar event, which began at 05:09 GMT, on a livestream run by LA's Griffith Observatory."

Note the nod to the Observatory, to shadow consuming light.

The pfp stays the white 4 during this tweet.

At 3:18 PM The Observer tweeted:

Day 5, 15:18 Across a million futures, one constant endures. -The Observer

Sound familiar? If you are a Larrie, it should. Mr. "souces say he has trouble with long term relationships" used a similar line in his "You Are Home" promo.

(personal opinion here. take with a grain of salt. this has confirmed for me that Louis has nothing to do with this account. This line was too loud when H tweeted it. It didn't fit any narrative. It wasn't even related to anything on the album. This and the "half way home" debacle were some of the craziest wtf is going on here moments in the You Are Home tweet saga. If this had anything to do with his work or career, Louis would stay far away from using lines this closely tied to Harry.)

The pfp updates to a white 5 (which really looks like an upside down 2)

At 6:00 PM LTHQ posted an IG reel from India.

On March 15th, 2025:

At 10:00 AM The Observer tweeted and immediately deleted:

"A true observer must always be watching. Blink, and you'll miss what matters most. 625 369 825 007 326 028 -The Observer"

369 and 28 are both intrinscly linked to Louis and can be found in the masterpost at the begining. 007 is typically a reference to James Bond which Harry is a favorite to perfom the next James Bond song or play him.

HOWEVER, 625, 825, and 326 could possibly be month/years. As in June 2025, August 2025, and March 2026.

Louis is playing in Soccer Aid on June 15th 2025. (THIS COMES INTO PLAY IN A FEW DAYS. Approximately 40% of the articles about Louis' new stunt involve his involvement in SoccerAid and how he will be on the team with his stunt's very recent ex.)

Should we be looking for August 2025 and March 2026 events as well?

At 9:45 PM The Observer tweeted:

"Day 6, Unkown Too quick to catch, too fleeting to frame in memory. But a true observer is always taking notes. -The Observer"

The pfp updated to a white 6 (at the three oclock position)

On March 16th, 2025:

We got two posts again this day.

At 9:30 AM The Observer tweeted:

Day 7, Unknown How did we end up here? -The Observer

The past two posts have stated that the time is "Unknown" instead of giving us UK time. Have we stopped tracking the time? Have we moved timezones?

The pfp updated to a white 7 at this time as in accordance with the dart board.

At 11:30 PM The Observer tweeted:

Silent? Silenced. Patience. Observe. -The Observer

The first part of this refers to an Oprah interview.

The implication is that someone has not CHOSEN to be silent. They've been made to be silent. However, if we - as the audience - are patient, we can observe what they cannot say.

The pfp updates now. There are no numbers. The pupil is smaller and we can see what appears to be eyelashes in the top right corner.

On March 17th, 2025:

We ge two posts again today. But it's what happens in between that makes it important.

At 8:25 PM The Observer tweets:

Day 8, 20:25 No key to turn, no doors to guide A journey taken, far and wide The walls unfamiliar, the roads unknown A wandering soul, yet not alone -The Observer

The pfp updates back to the original eye with a white 8. Which looks oddly like an infinity sign as the circles are elongated.

First thing to note is that were back on UK time. The second - your intepretation of this tweet will matter to how authentic you think this account is. For me - when I saw "no key to turn, no doors to open". I immediately thought of the tattoo Harry has on his ribs of a birdcage with no door. Next to his drama masks. Above the SMCL (smile more cry later?) tattoos. There isn't a keyhole nor a door to this closet. The "you are home" door is closed, it cannot be opened.

Yet the last line of the 28 word (if you include the signature) poem leaves us hopeful. Despite the distance, the walls, the unknown roads, there’s an undercurrent of connection

Then an hour and a half later at 10:00 PM on the dot The Sun gives us our very first confirmation article of Louis' new stunt. Which I will not speak about in depth on this post. If you want more info, my page is full of it, but I don't want to muddy this post with that.

At 11:55 PM we get another tweet from The Observer:

Fabricated fairytales, observed by all. -The Observer

The pfp does not change.

The "fabricated fairytales" is a line from Louis' She is Beauty, We Are World Class. (my intrepretation of that song is here if you're into that kind of thing.) This is in direct response to the stunt. It is not mincing words or leaving room for interpretation by the timing. It is saying "this is a fake romance and now the world is watching".

On March 18th, 2025:

At 8:35 PM The Observer tweets:

Day 9, 20:35 Nearly Halfway Home. A long journey, but well worth it. -The Observer

The pfp uppdates to a green 9 as per the dart board.

The tweet itself, needs lore to explain.

On April 1st 2022, Louis registered a song Halfway Home. This registration can still be confirmed here.

THEN on April 13th 2022 (two weeks later), the You Are Home account for Harry's House promo tweeted "half way home"

Home, as a concept, has always deeply tied to both Louis and Harry and both of them together. The lore goes deep, but a summary is here.

The capitalization of Halway and Home, directs us to the song name.

But if were intepreting, it's also telling us that there is a plan in place. And though its a long way out, we're nearly halfway there and it will be worth it in the end.

On March 19th, 2025:

At 2:28 PM The Observer tweets:

Day 10, 14:28 A fresh set of eyes, born from little white lies. -The Observer

The pfp changes to a white 10.

Little White Lies is a clear refrence to the One Direction song, Little White Lies.

Bare with my little larrie heart here (but since this account is obviously also a larrie I'd be suprised if you aren't too) but Louis is in the headlines more than hes been in a decade right now. The PR is PRing. There are a whole new set of eyes on him. All because he's selling the story of some "little white lies".

DARTBOARD THEORY AND UPDATES

At this point, to anyone who is paying attention, it's become clear that the numbers represent a dart board.

See the most recent overlay below:

There have been a lot of recent theories revolving around dart boards after Louis posted one while he was in New Orleans for the superbowl and then followed a darts player on Instagram.

As to keep this unbiased and not tied to further speculation, I won't comment on the connection around all of the other people in Louis' life that have posted pictures of dart boards recently (just know that his sisters, Pleasing, Lamby, Niall, and more have posted dart boards - usually with the dart in the triple 20 spot). HOWEVER, darts has always been popular in the UK and its growing in popularity with the younger crowd recently. It's entirely possible that Louis just loves a game of darts at the local, and his sisters' boyfriends do to, and he's watching competive darts lately (especially the first openly gay dart player who is super popular right now), and Pleasing thought somehow darts were Valentine's day imagery.

EXTRA STUFF & FINAL THOUGHTS

As mentioned by this Twitter user, the artwork is pretty well likely AI generated (plus a little Canva/Photoshop for the numbers). It has all the tell-tale signs of generative AI (wonkey lines, misproportions, etc).

Louis has entire teams of graphic designers plus Joshua Halling (who loves this skind of thing) in his back pocket. He wouldn't need AI for any of this.

At this point, The Observer is definitely an interesting mystery, but whether it’s something to pay attention to or just a fan-run account remains to be seen. The AI-generated images are a major red flag—it’s hard to imagine Louis or his team relying on AI when he has actual designers and photographers on hand. Even his more cryptic rollouts in the past have been visually polished and intentional.

That said, the timing of the tweets, the SACEM song listing, and the number symbolism do make it intriguing enough to keep an eye on. If this is a fan project, they’re clearly deep in the lore and know how to grab attention.

Key Takeaways:

Be cautious. If this is a fan messing around, engaging too seriously could be dangerous to your online safety.

Don’t assume it’s official.

It's probably not connected and Louis probably knows nothing about it. If it is somehow connected it will become obvious soon. If it's not (way more likely), it’ll probably fade out like other fandom mysteries before it.

For now? I’m just observing The Observer. 👀

[gloriousburden]

LOKI DR. PEPPER ‼️‼️‼️

LOKI DR. PEPPER ‼️‼️‼️

LOKI. DR PEPPER ‼️‼️‼️

[hypmicdaydreams]

is anyone still in the mood for a hypmic imagines blog these days lol

[nofacednerd]

I know everyone is giving their two cents on batman appearing in mawsm right now, but honestly I think it would be funny if, like, in season 2 (definitely not season 1 I think that should focus entirely on the main trio before introducing other dc characters like kara and such) I think that I would want One (1) World’s Finest episode except batman doesn’t even show up, it’s just Bruce Wayne showing up consistently in the B plot while the Daily Planet Intern Gang are running around getting into shenanigans. I want it to be implied that he’s Batman, and maybe Jimmy throws out a conspiracy theory that he is Batman, but everyone shoots it down because Jimmy’s theories are only somewhat right like 10% of the time anyway.

[thatgirlonstage]

Yeah yeah “show don’t tell” get mis-explained and misinterpreted as writing advice a lot and yeah sometimes you SHOULD be telling the reader things however I am unwilling to discard this particular phrase given the number of stories I have encountered that make me want to slap the author across the face with it

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 7

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Finished all of the little things I carved out of avocado pits, will maybe post pictures at some point? I painted some sections (like for the eye I carved, I made part of it white for contrast, etc.) and then generally glazed them with some shiny paint stuff. Now I really wish I had more avocado pits, I was unsure at first, but I have some new ideas.. I want to try inlaying stones like I've seen in some pictures, similar to the same ones I use for eyes in my sculptures. >:3 (random google image example of the stones inside, like this sort of thing V)

Low effort/small house cleaning tasks, did a few dishes, put up laundry, organized things, put up the recycling, paid bills, etc.

Still extremely sleepy and unfocused, it was hot last night and the cats woke me up multiple times so I only got a few hours of sleep and barely had any energy to do anything and also had a headache and back pain a lot of the day. ToT

Finally made an appointment I was supposed to make like 4 days ago lol..

Gave wet food to the cats (this is an ordeal because George eats way faster than Noodle, so I have to separate them and stand guard so George doesn't vacuum his up immediately then run over and try to eat all of his brothers food.. evil boy must be watched to prevent his crimes )

Edited videos for like.. 15 minutes but still have not been very productive on that front (or editing costume photos or anything) due to shoulder pain and stuff making it hard to type/use mouse much on the computer. grrbbb >:V

Spent 10 minutes looking up a weird pendant I had in my rock collection area and found out it's an old piece of costume jewelry from the 60s(?) and could be worth like $200 potentially, which is cool. I'm not sure if I'll sell it though because I do think it's quite unique and good for a prop when making wizard character inventories, etc, and I'd never be able to find anything like it again (it's this one below.. it's very weird.. looks like something a mage would have lol)

Translated the tapestry text for 5 minutes, and got out some tubs of clothes to start organizing them to sell outfits and stuff online, but then felt ill and had to go lay down so now the tubs are just sitting out on the floor ghgh..

Notable sights: It rained a bit and the sky was very pretty at one point. Didn't get to go outside today due to schedule/low energy, so no clovers or anything. Saw a fat squirrel out the window once though. Also when I was looking through my "rock collection" (which also includes marbles, dice, pieces of glass, stones, gems, rubber balls, seashells, smooth wood, jewelry scraps, etc. ggh.. really more "shiny things collection" but it's mostly rocks, so) for interesting stones to possibly put into avocado pits in the future, I saw a lot of pretty rocks I hadn't thought about in a while, so that was nice.

Goals moving forward: Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: Nothing really.. but it's an asparagus day tomorrow I think so.. >:)c hehehehe... Oh, I did try a bite of corn, which I really really love corn but am not supposed to have it on my diet. The miniscule morsel was sufficiently cherished. Still craving hearty stuff despite resuming my iron supplements lol..

[5sospenguinqueen]

Play Pretend | Charles Leclerc x Law Student! Reader

Summary: He's Lightning McQueen. You're Elle Woods. But, when Charles misses you, he makes it known that perhaps your career isn't as important as his wishes to start a family.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever? Miscommunication.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest.

2024 but some events switched around 

I'm trying to make all of these different to each other so I'm sorry that this one was less baby fever and more baby mention.

Main Masterlist

next.

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes and others 

YourUserName the cause of stress v. the support systems   tagged: charles_leclerc, YourBestFriend

6,883 comments

User1 i love how all her captions ft her degree are legal themed 

charles_leclerc ❤️💛

charles_leclerc mon ange, what are you doing in that second photo

→ YourUserName it’s probably best you don’t know, char

→ YourBestFriend cocktails were involved

→ charles_leclerc this is why i don’t like leaving her with you 

→ YourBestFriend cry me a river, vroom vroom boy 

lilymhe i still think i would be a better support system than charles

→ YourUserName and i fully agree. let’s run away together

→ alex_albon whoa, whoa, whoa. get your own girlfriend

→ charles_leclerc she already has her own girlfriend! 

→ charles_leclerc wait, no

→ User2 the prettiest girlfriend

User3 i swear charles and y/n are the cutest f1 couple

→ User4 they always look so infatuated with each other 

→ User5 umm, how? she's literally never at races 

→ User6 because she’s off being successful in her own way, and charles supports that? plus, she’s always snapped in ferrari merch on race days whether she’s there or not

→ User7 omg yes! when a classmate took a pic of her leaving a final in bright red, and she was easily the most spottable person in that hall 

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc welcome home baby leo  tagged: YourUserName

12,298 comments

YourUserName my two favourite boys ❤️

User8 did you see in the background of one of the pics, they have his “birth certificate” framed and it says leo leclerc-l/n. he truly is their child

roscoelovescoco can’t wait’s to see’s a new’s friend in’s the paddock’s 

→ User9 roscoe-leo play date when please

→ User10 not until 2025 😂

User11 but let’s all take a moment to appreciate how cool leo’s parents are. he has an f1 racer for a dad, and a fashionable law student for a mum

→ User12 haha his parents are lightning mcqueen and elle woods 

pierregasly thanks mate. now kika is going to want one

→ YourUserName and you should give her one. i need a mum friend 

User13 first they adopt ollie and now leo. who’s next

→ YourUserName oscar

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User1 the interviewer was asking about future races and charles wasted no time in bringing up his girlfriend. he’s so down bad 

User2 the way his face lights up when he talks about her. he really does love her. 

User3 oh Charles, honey, that’s not giving what you think it is 

User4 any other woman slightly uncomfortable with the way this was worded?

→ User5 lets all take a moment to remember that english isn’t his first language. he obviously meant well, and the love in his eyes shows that he’s excited about a life with y/n, it just wasn’t worded in the best way 

User6 the interviewer was so skeezy for that last comment though

User7 i feel so bad for y/n. she’s always so supportive of charles' races, even when she’s not there, and charles is talking about how he can't wait for her to be done with her degree so she can follow him around the world 

→ User8 i don’t think he meant it that way. he looked horrified when the interviewer interpreted it that way but the interview ended before he could clarify further 

User9 do we think mom and dad are fighting after his *slightly* misogynistic comments about making her a kept woman

→ User10 i really hope not but my heart says yes because he basically said he’ll turn her into a travel wife who only cares about his career but said nothing about her career that she’s working really hard on

User11 i didn’t realise how much i depended on y/n’s post race posts until i didn’t get one

→ User12 she always posts the most panty-dropping post race charles pics 

User13 i miss them already 

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User1 oh god, it’s official

User2 brb just gonna go cry my eyes out for an hour 

User3 literally half of her insta posts have disappeared because they were all charles 

→ User4 the only thing keeping me sane is that any post where he wasn’t the main focus but slightly in them have been kept 

User5 can someone check on ollie? see how he’s coping as a child of divorce 

liked by OllieBearman

User6 yes, yes. this is all very sad but now that i’m done crying, can we talk about what is going to happen with leo? is this going to be a shared custody agreement?

→ User7 how could i forget about leo. do you think they’ll see each other at child drop off or make arthur be the middle man?

User8 i can't believe they just got a puppy together and now they’re going to be co-parenting instead :( 

User9 maybe this is just a minor speed bump in the road to their everlasting happiness? (yes, i’m hoping that they’re simply taking a small break)

→ User10 may all your delulus come trululu

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, arthur_leclerc and others 

YourUserName the verdict is unanimous… I’m stressing

3,880 comments

YourBestFriend this barbies practices law

→ YourBestFriend not long left, babe. just a couple of exams and we’re qualified adults

→ YourUserName i don’t think we should ever be classed as qualified adults lol 

→ YourMum i still can't get over the fact that you two used to play pretend lawyers as little girls and now you're actually going to be one

lilymhe good luck, y/n. you’re gonna smash these! 

→ YourUserName if not, fancy running me over with your golf cart? 

arthur_leclerc good luck, y/n/n. try not to drink too much caffeine 

→ YourUserName i’m not that bad! 

→ arthur_leclerc you cannot lie to me. i have had to listen to you after three red bulls

→ landonorris betrayal! 

User1 she’s so real for that last slide tho. like miss y/l/n you are gorgeous and we’re glad you know it

YourClassmate how do you look so nice despite being in the library until 2am?

→ User2 dude, no. that line is not going to pull the stunning y/n l/n

→ User3 literally, the love of her life is charles leclerc and this guy thinks he’s going to win her over with a bad line 

User4 guys, is anyone else missing the sweet comments charles would always leave 

→ User5 he would be agreeing with the last slide and telling her how beautiful and smart she is 

→ User6 how about we don’t remind her of her ex-boyfriend the day before her life-changing exams

carlossainz55 good luck🤞🏼

→ User7 not sainz being messy on main

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc there is nothing like racing in italy for ferrari. i wish we had a better result, but that was the maximum today. we’ll try again next week. 

8,449 comments

User9 did you see his interview of him on his way out of the paddock? man was in a rush with poor leo tucked under his arm

→ User10 it’s y/n’s week with leo so charles was running out there because it was time to go see his favourite girl 

→ User11 he was not wasting a minute to see the love of his life 

User12 charles racing faster to go see his ex-girlfriend who he’s wildly obsessed with than he did all weekend 

→ User13 bestie you better pray he doesn’t see this 

→ User14 why? ‘cause he’ll have to fight the urge to like it 

User15 i’m so happy that it’s y/n’s week with leo because we’re going to get the most adorable puppy pics on her story all week

→ User16 also it means that his parents will be conversing 

User17 i love that we’re all depending on leo to get f1’s favourite couple back together 

Baby Fever Angst Series

(This wasn’t due out until tomorrow but I’ve released it earlier in honour of THE MONACO WIN BABY!!!!!!) 🥳🍾🥳🍾

Tag list

@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @elijahslover @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @brsr @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @dullypully @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @glow-ish

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 1)

masterlist

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don’t go as you imagine.

a/n: wicked was really good, i love jonathan bailey, and we're coming up on finals season which means im writing about how stressed i am. also halfway through this i realized reader is lowkey paris geller coded lmao. this got away from me so im splitting it into 2 parts, i had a lot of fun writing it so enjoy! also im high posting this so if there's any editing issues im sorry lol!!

wc: 5.5k

warning(s): reader is stressed to the max constantly. she is kinda mean to fiyero but he's into it so it's okay. mostly fluff

Your fingers were beginning to cramp. 

You should have been used to this by now with Doctor Dillamond. You’d been in his class for a few months now, and you graded essays for him often. He often had a propensity for verbosity, but this lecture had been an especially hefty one in preparation for your midterm projects.

He would be announcing partners before the end of class—much to your dismay, for you worked far better on your own than with others holding you down—and you figured you would want to have as much of a head start as possible. 

Great Oz, how you hoped you would be paired with one of your friends. Coralie and Ezura were your only contenders for top of the class—Elphaba had potential as well, not because of the magic she couldn’t control but because of the brain she very well could—and anyone else would frankly slow you down. Doing a large research paper with someone who didn’t care as much as you did would be a drag you didn’t care to go through. 

Midterms were only the most important thing, for they set the track towards finals and affirmed your skill with your assignments, and your first midterm was potentially the most important thing for, when completed successfully, set you on the correct track altogether. 

You tried not to think about it too much (though you failed almost immediately), for you were sure Doctor Dillamond would honor all the work you’d done for him by putting you with a suitable partner. 

“I see some of you are getting restless, so I will cut class short today.” Your eyes snapped up from your paper to see the professor smiling, and you could hear sighs of relief around the room. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know your partners for the midterm paper.” 

The sighs of relief turned to groans, and you had to agree. Assigned partners should have been considered archaic at this point in time. 

Doctor Dillamond trotted back to the projector and, with a bit of difficulty, replaced the image with a piece of paper. Everybody in the class was paired off in groups of two—you immediately started searching for your name, squinting slightly to see despite your spot in the front, and the furrow between your brows deepened when you realized you couldn’t find it. 

You searched instead for your hopeful options. Coralie was with Mayara, Ezura was with Nicholas, Elphaba was with Galinda—of course. You let out a slight huff of annoyance, not just at your disappointment but at the continued lack of your name. 

Perhaps he’d merely forgotten. You didn’t know how Dillamond could have forgotten you, seeing as you were only his best student and literal TA, but things happened. Your anxieties only grew as you heard the beginnings of whispers throughout the room as your classmates saw their pairings, either excited or dismal. 

“Class is dismissed,” Doctor Dillamond said. The room began bustling as students gathered their things, already talking with their friends or searching out their project partner—you heard Galinda squeal and saw her grab Elphaba’s hands out of your peripherals. You could only worry your lip between your teeth as you swept everything in your bag, hardly waiting a second before rushing up to Dillamond’s desk. 

“You didn’t call my name, professor,” you said, managing a smile as you tried to act like it wasn’t killing you. How could he have not called your name? Was there something wrong? Great Oz— had you been somehow moved out of the class? Was your work not exemplary enough? Your assistance not assisting enough? “I don’t have a partner.” 

His mouth opened, but you only found yourself continuing, the words practically tumbling out of you.  

“Of course, if you intended for me to be on my own then I am perfectly alright with that!” Your smile widened as your fingertips dangled over his desk. “I— I prefer it, in fact, so if that is it then there is really no issue at all—”

“Mr. Tigelaar!” he interrupted, and your head turned on instinct to see the eponymous boy arm in arm with Galinda (who was arm in arm with Elphaba) just in front of the door. “I hope you are not about to leave.”

Fiyero flashed a look at his companions before offering one of those easy smiles he seemed to always have up his sleeve. “You dismissed the class. I believe I am part of your class, am I not?”

“You are,” he said, “but you were not assigned a partner. Surely you wouldn’t be trying to get out of the project.”

Your free hand clenched as the threads started to connect. Doctor Dillamond wouldn’t do this to you. Would he?

That easy smile remained on his lips as he turned to Galinda and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and pecked him on the cheek before she walked out, pulling Elphaba behind her, and Fiyero sauntered over. 

“Of course I’m not trying to get out of it,” he said. “Whyever would you think so?”

“Your attempt at a quick exit before you could be assigned a partner,” the professor said. “But it is no matter, for your partner is right here.”

You blinked. He would do this to you.

Why would he do this to you?

“Well, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. “Fiyero Tigelaar.”

You ignored him, for you couldn’t look away from Doctor Dillamond. Would it be mad for you to strangle a Goat?

“Professor,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “why?”

“Mr. Tigelaar’s grades in my class have not been satisfactory, as I’m sure he is aware.” Dillamond moved away from his desk, prodding the chalkboard with his head to move it out of the way. “I care about all my students, even if they seem not to care for my course. I believe a partnership for the two of you would be beneficial.”

Your jaw clenched. “So you’re forcing me to tutor him because he hasn’t got a brain.”

Fiyero chuckled. “Ouch.”

“Not tutoring, just working on your midterm together,” he said. “And if you end up teaching him a few things along the way, then we would all be better off, wouldn’t we?” 

“Professor, with all due respect, this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Why should I have to risk my grade, my midterm, my standing altogether at Shiz just to help him?” 

“Should you perform the way that is typical of you, there should be no issues.” Doctor Dillamond gave you that professorly look and your teeth grinded against each other. How dare he try to take the moral high ground. “Now, the two of you better hurry off. You haven’t got forever to work on this project.” 

“Professor,” you whispered, determined to not let up, “why are you punishing me like this?”

“I’m not punishing you, my dear.”

“Fiyero couldn’t care less about any of this,” you insisted. “I’m going to fail my midterm and it will be all his fault!”

“If you believe he can make you fail, then you haven’t got as much faith in yourself as I believed.” Doctor Dillamond looked at you. “Trust me—and yourself—that this will all work out.”

You stared back—it was rather difficult to have a staring contest with a Goat. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind on this?”

“You’d be correct.”

You huffed and glanced away. “Fine. But expect those test scores to take an extra day.”

He let out a bleaty sort of laugh while you walked away. You considered it a credit to yourself that you held back the childish tantrum you wanted to throw as you moved back over to your desk to gather the rest of your things. You shoved your books into your bag with a bit more anger than necessary, and you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over to see Fiyero sidled up beside you, leaning against the desk next to yours. 

“Surely you won’t be this irritated at me the entirety of our project.” He still had that unbothered smile on his lips, and it made you want to hit him. “It might make this a much more miserable partnership.”

You let out a mirthless laugh as you shouldered your bag. “Don’t act like this pains you. You’re just going to ride my coattails the entire time.” 

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Fiyero mused. “But now that you bring it up, I just may have to.” 

“For the love of Oz,” you muttered to yourself before mustering the strength to look up at him. “I have a myriad of things I need to do today. Why don’t you go bother your girlfriend for the rest of the day, and then you can meet me at the library first thing tomorrow morning so we can discuss all of this.” 

He shrugged. “Sounds alright to me.” 

“Good,” you said. “Because I meant every word I said back there. I will not have you ruining all my progress thus far because of your absolute refusal to think.” 

“It looks as if you could take a page out of my book,” Fiyero said. “You seem awfully stressed.” 

Your lips tightened into a mirthless smile. “I’m stressed because of you, Fiyero, and we have hardly even interacted. I dread to think of my mental state after a week of working together. Now, good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You swept past him and walked out of Doctor Dillamond’s classroom. You felt his eyes on you until you turned the corner, and you had to resist the urge to look back. 

Oh, how you loathed group projects. 

-

The rest of your day was far more demanderating than it should have been, and you blamed Fiyero for it. You swore the clock went by half as quick and your lectures twice as long—it didn’t help that you were so distracted in chemistry that you nearly burned your eyebrows off from a potion gone wrong. 

You’d practically thrown yourself onto your bed when you got back to your dorm, and you didn’t get up until your roommate got back and demanded to know what had gotten into you. She didn’t exactly give you the response you wanted. 

“The prince is your partner?” Coralie sighed dreamily. “Oh, you are so lucky.” 

“Lucky is not the way I’d put it,” you mumbled, words muffled by the sheets. You finally tore yourself up off your bed and picked your nightgown up from atop your dresser. You went behind your folding sheet and began to change. “And I didn’t know you had eyes for Fiyero.” 

“I hardly have eyes for him,” she said wryly. “I just have eyes—anyone can see that he’s attractive.” 

“It doesn’t matter how attractive he is if he makes me fail this midterm,” you said. You straightened your nightgown then folded your school uniform while you walked back into the open, passing a glance at your roommate as you placed it on your desk. You then settled on your bed with a huff. “I just don’t understand why Doctor Dillamond is punishing me like this. It makes me reconsider all those late nights spent grading papers for him.” 

Coralie shrugged. “You’re one of his best students, Fiyero is probably one of his worst. I bet Doctor Dillamond figured you would be happy to take him on, what with how happily you take on everything else he throws at you.” 

You grumbled as you laid back against your pillows. “I just don’t know if I can take him on. Fiyero seems to care more about flirting with every student at this school than any actual material.” 

She gave you a mischievous smile. “Maybe he’ll turn the full force of his affections on you in return for your studiousness. Oh, how that would be a sight to see.” 

“Don’t even put that idea into the air, Cora,” you scoffed. “Besides, he’s clearly involved with Galinda. Even if I was interested, which I’m not—” you emphasized with a pointed look at her— “that isn’t something I want to touch.” 

“Well, you can’t deny that he’s dreamy,” she said. “He just showed up at Shiz and people started falling left and right. It’s more impressive that you haven’t.” 

“Because I’m here for one reason,” you said. “His whole… thing doesn’t fit into any of it.” 

“I know,” Coralie mused as she fell back onto her pillows. “You’ve told me your whole plan ten times over. I just think you should also try to enjoy your life instead of bulldozing your way through it.” 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’m enjoying my life just fine, thank you.” 

Interestingly enough, Fiyero was going through something similar a myriad of rooms away. 

He laid on Galinda’s bed, his head in her lap as she trailed her fingers through his hair. She’d been going on about something for the last couple of minutes, but he hadn’t really been able to focus on any of it. 

“Dearest, did you not hear what I said?” 

Fiyero blinked at the sound of Galinda’s voice. He hadn’t indeed. 

“I’m sorry, beloved.” He absentmindedly reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze once he found it. “I was thinking.” 

Elphaba laughed from across the room. She sat on her bed with a book in her lap. “That’s a first for you.” 

“It is,” Galinda said, though with much more concern laced in her voice. Her hand moved from his hair to his forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” he assured. “What was it you were saying?” 

“Just lamenting on how awful it is that we’ve been separated for this project,” she sighed. “I’m sure I could persuade Doctor Dillamond to put us in a group of three.”

“You can’t even get him to pronounce your name correctly,” Elphaba said wryly. “How could you get him to do this?” 

“Well,” Galinda huffed, “maybe you could do it. He appears to like you more than me.” 

“I’m sure that really hurts,” she said. 

Galinda placed her hand on her chest. “It does!” 

“It’s fine,” Fiyero interrupted. “I’m alright with my partner. She’s nice.” 

“Nice?” Elphaba scoffed. “I heard her lecturing you the whole time we were out in the hallway.” 

“She’s passionate,” he decided. “Besides, I don’t really care. I haven’t thought about it since she left.” 

That was a complete lie. In truth, Fiyero hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left. Very strange for someone who preferred to go through life with less thinking and more doing. 

He honestly didn’t know why his mind was so occupied with you. 

He’d always been aware of you, obviously—all your professors adored you, your name was always brought up when talking about top of the class, and he was sure you held the record for most time spent in the library at once—but he didn’t know anything about you other than your academic record. And for someone with such strong opinions, especially about him, Fiyero found himself with the strange need to know more. 

He would be at the library tomorrow. Maybe not on time, but certainly there. 

Fiyero would make this the beginning of a beautiful partnership, one way or another.

-

True to your word, you were in the library bright and early after a quick stop at the dining hall. You went through the effort of gathering everything you thought you would need—a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, your well-weathered notebook and another one for Fiyero because you doubted he had one, and enough writing material for the two of you.

You sighed. You had to do so much just to even the ground between your groups and the others. Coralie was always so prepared whenever you worked together. 

Fiyero, to your surprise, was only ten minutes late. You already had your head buried in a book when he said your name and scared you witless. 

Your eyes widened as they darted up to look at him, and he chuckled. 

“Sorry. You were in the zone.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you,” you said. “You’re late.”

“Hardly.” Fiyero took the seat across from you, his eyes sweeping over everything you had on the table. “You’ve got quite a collection.”

“I doubt you know your way around the library,” you said. 

“I know my way around a lot of things.” 

You leveled your gaze at him. Leave it to Fiyero to make everything an innuendo. “And is a library one of them?”

“I’m sure I could make it one.”

“If you bothered to think at all.”

“Darling, you know I’d never,” he said with a smile. “Now, what are we doing here?”

“Do you really not know what our midterm is?” you marveled. 

“I have more important things to worry about,” he said. 

You scoffed and shook your head. Ridiculous— it was ridiculous that you had to put up with this. Maybe Doctor Dillamond really did hate you.

“Our assignment is an extensively researched ten page paper on any great Ozian,” you said. “Anyone who has contributed to our society in a relevant way and made our lives better for it.”

“A ten page paper?” Fiyero frowned. “That seems a bit much.”

“Between the two of us, it’s just five pages each, and we’ve got two weeks to get it done,” you said. “I’ve written five pages in a few hours of inspiration.”

“Your life truly sounds thrilling,” Fiyero said. “We could do the Wizard.”

“Half the class is going to do the wizard,” you scoffed. 

“Because he’s a great man,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”

“There is absolutely shame in copying half the class,” you said as you pushed over a sheet of paper to him. “Now, I’ve already got a list going. Look it over; see if there’s anyone you like or anyone worthwhile you want to add.”

You looked back down at your encyclopedia, opened to your personal favorite choice, and continued scribbling down basic notes. You glanced up a few moments later to see Fiyero’s gaze hadn’t wavered from you. 

You frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re awfully prepared,” he said instead. 

“I figured you wouldn’t be,” you responded.

Fiyero’s lips quirked in a smile. “Then I believe that means you deserve to choose our subject.”

Your frown deepened. “Really?”

“Are you always this suspicious of everyone?”

“Just you.”

“Then consider this an olive branch,” he said. He slid the paper back over. “Who’s your top choice?”

“…Ilara Mayfair,” you finally said as you pointed at her on the top of your list. “She was a historical linguist, responsible for half of what we know about Ozian languages and how they connect and differ. She’s…” you cleared your throat and shrugged, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, “she’s kind of my hero.”

“Your hero?” Fiyero’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what you want to do?” 

“…It’s always been my dream,” you admitted. “I grew up helping around my parents’ bookstore and her mark was on nearly everything. I really admire it. I want to make that sort of difference in the world.”

“How noble,” he remarked. What surprised you was how genuine he sounded. “It’s impressive how much of your life you have planned out already. All Galinda knows is that she’s majoring in sorcery—she hasn’t really got anything else worked out.”

“What are you majoring in?” you asked.

“Undecided,” Fiyero said. “I was kicked out of my last school before I could declare, so I figure there’s not really a point in doing it here.”

“Not really a surprise,” you said. 

“Really?”

“On your first day, you snuck off campus with half of Shiz to go dance at Ozdust,” you said. “That’s not exactly a good first impression.” 

“I’d argue the opposite,” he said. Fiyero tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you for a moment. His gaze made you uncomfortably aware of yourself. “I don’t recall seeing you there.” 

“That’s because I wasn’t there.” You looked back down at your encyclopedia to avoid his eyes. “I had more important things to do.” 

He frowned. “Do you ever take a day off?” 

“Of course,” you said. “There isn’t any class on the weekends.” 

“I mean with this,” he said, gesturing at all the books around you. “It doesn’t seem like you allow yourself a single moment of respite. When you’re not in class, you’re studying. When you’re not studying, you’re doing work. When you’re not doing any of it, you’re probably dreaming of your future assignments.” 

You felt your skin heat. Surely you weren’t that transparent. 

“...I don’t dream of them,” you defended. “Not— not always.” 

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?” 

You frowned. “How am I ridiculous? You’re incapable of taking a single thing seriously.” 

“And you’re incapable of not taking everything seriously,” Fiyero said. “It can’t be good for your health.” 

“I plan to get out of here a year early,” you said, looking back at your books. “I can’t slack off like you do if I want that plan to come to fruition.” 

“Oh, I’ve gotten out of every school I’ve been in a year early,” Fiyero said. “Sometimes two or three— Oz, sometimes I don’t even make it through the first semester.” 

Your eyes snapped back up to him, widened in instinctual panic. “What?” 

He burst out laughing, and it grinded every one of your gears. “Oh, I wish you could see the look on your face! It’s priceless— truly priceless!” 

“You’ve been kicked out of every school you’ve been to and you think it’s a joke?” 

Still laughing, he shrugged. “It is. Nothing bad has happened, and I’m still having the time of my life wherever I go.” 

You just shook your head as you stared at him, eyes still wide. “Are you always like this?”

“Utterly charming?” 

“Entirely insufferable.”

You didn’t understand how he laughed. Everything rolled right off him, like oil off a duck’s back, no matter how many times you insulted him. 

“You know, there are other things to life than your studies,” he said.

“Not while I’m here, there isn’t,” you said. “It’s the whole point of university.” 

“The point of university is to have fun,” he said. “You’ve seen how this place has perked up since I’ve gotten here, haven’t you?” 

“Not really, no,” you said. “I’ve been more focused on other things.” 

“Like?” 

“Like my studies.” 

“It’s like I’m talking to a broken record,” he marveled. “Have you ever had fun in your life?” His eyes widened comically. “Do you even know what the concept of fun is?” 

“Ha ha,” you said dryly. 

He tilted his head. “Do you?” 

You frowned. “Of course I do.” 

“Okay, then.” Fiyero leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself.”

Your frown deepened. “We aren’t doing a research paper on me.”

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Is it a crime to want to know my partner?”

A muscle worked in your jaw as you stared at him. He stared back, entirely unaffected. 

“If I humor you, will you actually work with me through this?”

Fiyero held up his hand. “Prince’s honor.”

Finally, you broke. You folded your arms with a short sigh then glanced away. “Fine. I’m from a tiny village in Gillikin that you’ve probably never heard of. I’m here on scholarship with the plan to graduate, become a historian, and make a name for myself.” You looked back at him. “Is that good enough for you?”

“It’s excellent,” Fiyero said with a smile. “Dare I say I’ve learned more about you in one short day than I have in the entirety of my time at Shiz?”

You gave him a fake smile as you tapped your book. “Open your textbook. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask about me?”

“I mean this with all due respect—what could there possibly be to know about you?” You raised an eyebrow as you counted off on your fingers. “You’re from the Vinkus, you’re a prince, and you’ve never read a book a day in your life.” 

“Oh, that’s not true,” he chastised. “I’ve read at least one—I just choose not to.” 

“Well, how about we make that two?” You reached across the table and opened his book for him. “Unless that prince’s honor isn’t worth a thing.” 

“Oh, it’s worth everything,” Fiyero said. 

You raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Then prove it.” 

“Very well,” he nodded. “I believe I can be serious for the next… fifteen minutes.” 

“You won’t even get through a chapter,” you said. “Thirty.” 

Fiyero frowned. “You set awfully high expectations.” 

“Why do you think Doctor Dillamond forced me to help you?” you asked. 

“Because you’re oh so nice and charitable?”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. If you’d been looking closer, you would have seen Fiyero’s smile grow, his eyes soften. 

“Of course. Now, go to the glossary, find Ilara, and start writing. I know practically everything about her already, so you need to catch up.”

“I don’t have—”

You held out your extra notebook and fountain pen and cocked your head. “Don’t have what?”

Fiyero chuckled as he took them from you. “You’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?”

“Always,” you said with a satisfied smile. “Now get reading, my prince.”

He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. “At once, my lady.”

-

You looked at the clock on the wall. Fiyero should have been here by now. 

Granted, he was ten minutes late to your first meeting, but that was before he’d changed your expectations ever so slightly. Almost an hour had passed, and there was still no sign. 

Of course, it wasn’t as if it hindered your progress. You kind of always expected him to fall short—if he showed at all, that was a credit to him—so you already had half the outline done. But a small part of you that you’d never admit to might have actually been looking forward to his presence. 

You enjoyed the bout of verbal sparring he engaged you in. A lot of your classmates thought you were mean, and it never bothered you. Like you told Fiyero, you were here for one reason and one only, and the amount of people that liked you at university didn’t influence that at all. Your professors liked you and your grades were perfect—that was all. 

But you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t… nice. For Fiyero to take everything you said in stride, with a smile and a retort of equal measure.

It was nice. But that was all. 

You were jarred out of your thoughts by someone calling your name. You looked up to see Fiyero sauntering over, bearing his usual smile and not much else.

“This is a library,” you said once he got closer. “You aren’t supposed to shout.”

He took the seat across from you. “I’d hardly call that shouting.”

“You aren’t meant to be loud,” you decided. “Why are you so late?”

Fiyero shrugged. “I lost track of time?”

“You know, we are partners,” you emphasized your last word, “so it would be helpful if you could try to put in the same amount of effort as me.”

“That seems impossible.” He gestured at your notebook with his head, your current page already nearly full. “You’ve got me beat on nearly everything.”

“It’s not that difficult,” you intoned. “I mean, just do some research outside of class.”

He stared at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t know what I expect with you, honestly.”

“Exactly what you see, darling. Now,” Fiyero's gaze drifted over to the window, then looked back at you as he stood up, “what do you say we put a hold on things and enjoy this beautiful day?” 

Your brows furrowed. “What, you mean do our research outside?” 

“Is your work truly all you think about?” he asked in exasperation. “I mean leave the books and your notes and your stress here, and take a stroll around campus.” 

“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was ten years old,” you said. “Of course it is. I am not going to have some— some—”

“Some what?” Fiyero interrupted. He still looked remarkably unaffected by your outburst, that sideways smile of his infuriatingly charming. 

“Some ridiculous, pompous, self-absorbed, lazy Winkie prince ruin it!” you exclaimed. 

“Lazy,” he mused. “That’s a new one.” 

“Of course you’re lazy! Why would we take a break when we have a project to do?” 

Fiyero looked at you like you were crazy— no, like he was worried about you. He shook his head. “You really do have a one track mind.” 

“When we’re in midterm season, yes, I d— what are you doing?”

Fiyero had started stacking all of the books you had on the table away from you, then he grabbed your notebook and your pen out of your hand.

“You need a break,” he said. 

“I don’t need a break, and give that back—”

You reached for your materials but only just grazed his hand before he pulled them back and set them on top of the pile. “When was the last time you saw the sun?” 

You scoffed. “I see the sun all the time.” 

“Not from a window in the library or your dorm.” 

You bit your tongue. Fiyero smiled and held out his hand. 

“You need a break.” 

You stared at his hand. He gave you a cloying look. 

“It’s not a good sign that you’re this against self-care,” he said wryly. 

You sighed and reluctantly placed your hand in his. “Fine.”

Fiyero grinned and he pulled you close. You yelped at the unexpected speed and you tumbled into his chest. Fiyero’s hand dropped to your waist, and for a moment all you could do was stare at him, wide eyed. 

“Shall we?” he murmured. 

You jolted away from him once you came back into yourself, your skin burning where he’d touched you. 

“We shall,” you said, a bit too forcefully as you started walking a bit too fast. 

Fiyero chuckled. He matched your pace easily, soon coming up beside you. “You’re already that excited?”

“Oh, shut up,” you bit out. “You’ve already gotten what you want. No need for more.”

He feigned naivety. “What would I possibly be doing?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I’m not entertaining that with a response.”

Fiyero simply hummed. You glanced over at him, still staying even with you, and then you let out another huff as you stopped. He didn’t miss a beat, pausing at the same time as you, then met your flustered expression with a smile. 

“Yes?”

“You’re the one that wanted to do this,” you said, gesturing in front of you with a hand. “So lead the way.”

“Gladly,” he said. “I’m very good at taking the lead.”

Fiyero started walking and, though you had half a mind to take the opportunity and dart back to the library, you found yourself following him. 

Cora’s words spun around your head as you and Fiyero walked together, about him turning the full force of his flirting on you in return for you being such a stickler for your midterm. 

That was the embarrassing thing; you didn’t even think this was half of it, and he already had you blushing—and for what? It was as if you’d never even talked to a boy before. 

You’d had plenty of experience back home. Village boys coming into your parents’ store to flirt at you, leaving notes in your desk in class, offering to walk you home at night—plenty of experience. 

It didn’t matter that you denied them all and never went anywhere because you had a one track mind even then, and that Fiyero had done what no one else had and gotten you take a break simply because he asked nicely—

You sucked in a sharp breath as Fiyero’s arm suddenly pressed against your chest, stopping you in place. Your head snapped up to look at him, mouth already open with questions loaded, but he gestured with his head before you could ask any of them. 

You’d nearly barreled right down the stairs from being lost in your head, without care nor consideration for actually taking the steps. 

“Mind the gap, darling,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you damaging that brain of yours.”

“…Thank you,” you said once you’d regained the ability to speak words again. “One of us ought to have one.”

Fiyero laughed as he took his arm away. “Certainly.” He used it to gesture down the stairs. “Ladies first—unless you’re unsure of your ability to conquer them.”

“I’ll be just fine, Fiyero.” You started the descent, Fiyero right behind you, and you let out another short sigh. 

There had to be something wrong with you. That was the only explanation for why you were acting this way.

Maybe you really did need to start getting more sleep. 

[chuluoyi]

✎ stupid liar

- gojo satoru x reader

no way. impossible. you couldn't possibly be jealous of gravure idol gojo likes so much now... or could you?

genre: jealous!reader vs slightly jealous!gojo, crack, and obviously, fluff !!

note: based on this post :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Look, Suguru~ Isn't she pretty?"

Your eye twitched at the sing-song voice, lips twisting into a scowl as you glanced at him from the corner of your twitching eye.

No. You don't care. Not in the slightest.

You stabbed your fork into your cheesecake with more fervor than necessary though.

"Eh?"

"Inoue Waka!" Satoru exclaimed with an enthusiasm that felt almost too bright. "This is her in her newest issue!"

‘Newest issue’ being a bikini special, with the said model lay sprawled in the most revealing piece possible. That indecent photo had also become the wallpaper and lockscreen on your boyfriend's phone, and he shamelessly showed it off with pride.

You steeled yourself. Again. No. It's not a big deal. You weren't jealous, especially not over some... heavily-altered picture of a porn actress!

"Ahh, she does look nice..."

You attacked your now-mutilated cheesecake again, feeling your mood plummet further after hearing Suguru's response. Now you were convinced, all men are dogs!

"—but not exactly my type," he added quickly, his gaze darting towards you. His interest lay more in your reaction, which was why he stirred the pot further: "Is she your type, Satoru?"

Your boyfriend, whether oblivious or intentional, erupted into giddy laughter like a kid. "Ehh... why of course!"

His enthusiastic agreement seemed to echo louder in your ears than it probably should have. The cheesecake, once a treat, now felt like lead in your mouth.

That's it. One more time and—

But then, Suguru's voice cut through your irritated thoughts again, clearly amused. "Well, but I've always thought real beauty lies not just in appearances but in strength of character. Wouldn't you agree, Satoru?"

You knew it, Suguru was indeed the best. You dared to glance up from your plate, curious about your cocky little clown’s response. But you really shouldn't, because Satoru, the absolute cretin he was—

"Why are you getting philosophical all of sudden?" he sullenly grumbled. "Important thing is if she's hot, then she is hot." You could have sworn he briefly side-eyed you before saying, "And no one is hotter than Inoue Waka."

Stupid. Idiot. Insufferable.

Standing up, your patience dissipated into thin air. Your brisk pace made Shoko, who was beside Suguru, to quirk an eyebrow. "Oh, leaving already?"

"I'm going back. Have a practice."

"Ehh? You didn't say?" only now did your shameless boyfriend turned to you fully. "It's still break time—"

"Nanami is waiting for me, goodbye."

You didn't look back even once, too annoyed to notice that Satoru was gawking at your words.

Satoru couldn't believe this. You ignored him. You actually did… in favor of Nanami!

He was starring daggers at how the two of you conversing so amiably across the hall. You were his girlfriend already, but he could barely able to make you look as sweet as you were with Nanami just now. You were always prickly with him!

Okay, but rest assured—with Suguru he may have doubts, but with Nanami, he was convinced he outshone him by a wide margin, perhaps even ten or twenty times over!

"Why are you sparring with him?" he was sulking when he caught you on the way back to the dorms after school. "Why not Haibara instead?"

You scoffed. "And why do you idolize Inoue Waka and not Yuzuki Tina?"

Oh, so that's what this is about. Suddenly, he didn't feel as miffed as a stupid grin split his face. "Ooh, you're looking into gravure idols too?"

"..."

"Heh, if you're doing it for research purpose, that's totally okay~"

"..."

"Pfft, you're so jealous it's so great to watch—"

You halted abruptly, your annoyance now at its peak. Facing your infuriating boyfriend, you leveled a piercing glare at him that caught him off-guard. "Gojo, from today onwards, we're having a ban."

"Whoa, hey—"

"—and in the meantime, you can print Inoue Waka out of your phone, hang her in your dorm and kiss your wall instead—"

"Just a minute!" Satoru interjected, eyes rounded with slight alarm. "Don't be too hasty!"

He looked at you, really looked at you, and saw that you were actually upset.

A twinge of... what is it? Some kind of guilt, he supposed, pricked his chest. He didn't like seeing you like this, especially knowing he had played a part in it. You should be smiling sweetly and catching his heart with it, not frowning like this.

"Hey," he started, his voice softening as a small, sincere smile crept onto his face. You continued to look away, a stubborn pout fixed on your lips. Darn it, how did you manage to look cute while angry too?

"Look at me, I'm all yours, okay?"

That got you to shoot him a sharp glance, and boohoo!—the ice in your heart thawed slightly as you met his smile, which soon evolved into a toothy grin.

But then, in one swift strike, he pulled his phone out and took a snap of your very-not-ready face.

"Satoru!" you screamed in panic, trying to climb over him to pluck his phone. "No! Delete that!"

"Ah ah," he crisply snickers, raising his hand with the phone high above where you couldn't reach. After pressing a few buttons, he triumphantly showed you his phone screen, now displaying your flop picture in all of its glory.

"That's seriously awful!" you grimaced, a look of horror in your face. "Satoru, for real—"

“You’re adorable,” he countered almost immediately, his smile wide and unabashed—the very winning smile that won your heart. “My girl is cute as heck and you know what the best part is? She’s mine.”

. . .

—okay, you were now positively melting. This was irritating, how can you forgive him this easily?

You huffed, raising your chin high to cover the very sizzling heat in your cheeks. "Hmph. Keep that photo then. But I'm still sparring with Nanami though."

"Mm-hmm, whatever. I hope his foul hairstyle won't affect you—"

"Don't badmouth him! Wait, don't tell me... you feel threatened by him?"

"Wha? Why would I!? I have the better face, better wallet—!"

Together, you walked back to the dorms, the evening air somehow felt lighter around you. Satoru's hand found yours along the way, and the two of you kept up a playful banter, followed by shared giggles afterwards.

. . .

What you didn't realize, however, was that there was another reason behind Satoru's happy laughter... his secret little mission had been a smashing success~

Epilogue

“I put too much faith in Y/N. I’m disappointed.”

“We are paying Gojo, damn it.”

Suguru and Shoko let out collective sighs, looking at the two of you. They witnessed your little outburst and that sealed everything.

You used to not give in to so easily. Unfortunately now, you were whipped for that idiot too, enough to get jealous over him.

As Suguru opened his wallet, a realization struck. “Shoko, now that I think about it… why am I always losing these bets?”

“You could just suck… or maybe," she glances him over before letting out a snort. "Your bangs just bring bad luck?”

[thatrabidwolf]

hey so a little while ago I decided this would be a fun thing to make, and now 3 days and many, many hours later, I have it complete, and I would like to share it! So, here is:

Questions to ask yourself when creating / studying / writing about, etc a culture (fantasy or real)

I absolutely love creating my own fantasy worlds, and recently I have been looking at advice on how to do it better, but none of the posts I’ve found are quite thorough enough for me. So, I decided it would be fun to make my own list of what questions you should ask yourself when making a fantasy culture!!

This will certainly not be all-encompassing, and I am by no means an expert on any of this, but I have tried my best with the knowledge I have. Think of this as a jumping off point!

I will always refer to the culture you are making/studying/writing about etc as ‘your culture’. I do not mean the culture you are literally from.

Religion and beliefs 

Note- even if your culture has no god or religion, some questions will still apply. Additionally, a culture does not need a religion. 

How does your culture believe the world/them/nature/etc has been created? (E.g. the Dreamtime, the days in which God made earth, etc)

Is your cultures religion poly or mono theistic?

What does your culture believe is holy or good, religion wise? How does this affect people who do not fit that standard? How do people try to reach this standard? 

How does your culture worship? Do they have rituals or ceremonies? Why do they do this, in their eyes?

How does your culture think of its God(s)? Are they afraid? Reverent? Are they less than (the) God(s), or equal (I have never heard of non-Gods being viewed as better than (the) God(s), but hey, why not?)? Are they perhaps being protected or cared for by their God(s)?

What is your cultures view of death and the dead? What do they believe happens after death? How does their mortality affect this? (I.e. are creatures that live longer less afraid of death and hell?)

Are there any people who can be closer to their God(s), or servants of God(s)? (I.e. priests, monarchs, monks, nuns, etc)

How do religious people view non- religious people, or people who follow other religions? (and vice versa)

Are there multiple religions or belief systems in your world? How do they interact?

Why do people believe what they do? (Have they met the gods? Who made their religion?)

How does religion help or harm the people who follow it (And even the people who don’t believe it)? Are people aware of these issues? 

How does religion affect things like art, language, routines, clothing, food, etc? (E.g. hijabs and modest clothing, prayer times that cause people to wake up earlier, cursing.) do religious ‘uniforms’ exist? (E.g. a priests outfit) who wears them?

How does one pray, or service a God? 

If someone in your culture wanted something from (the) God(s), what would they do to get it? (I.e. what could they do for the god so their request is answered?)

Farming and Agriculture 

Note- most stationary settlements will farm, but not all cultures will be stationary. If your culture is not stationary, this may not apply.

Who farms, and where? (The who is very important. Are they willingly in this field (pun unintended), or have they been forced into it? Are they paid? How much? Are the conditions good?)

Does your culture have aid from animals or machinery when farming? How are they aided?

What do they farm, and how? (I highly recommend researching farming methods, if only because it can be really cool!)

Does your culture farm everything it eats/needs, or do they import and export things? If they import and export, what are their main imports and exports? Who do they trade with?

How important is farming and trading in your culture? How does it’s importance affect those living there? 

What foods are not farmed, or not as common? Why? 

What ingredients are most common? What are they used in? (Note- the answer to that second question is going to be ‘a lot’. Don’t just make one dish with the most common ingredients. Make a bunch!)

Other materials

Note- if the answer to any of these questions is no, then you must consider what the alternative is. If they don’t have clay, what is their crockery (if they have it) made of? If they don’t have metal, what are their weapons made of? Also, a culture does not, by any means, need all or any of this. This is just an example.

Does your culture have access to sand (and, by extension, glass)? Where is it? How is it transported?

Does your culture have access to stone and metals? And again, who mines for this? How is it transported?

Does your culture have access to clean water?  How is it transported?

Does your culture have access to wood and fire? If not, how are their environments heated and/or lit? (Do they burn another substance?)

Does your culture have access to paper and ink? If not, what do they write with? (If they write at all)

Does your culture have access to electricity? 

Does your culture have access to clay and porcelain? And do they have glaze or paint for their clay?

Does your culture have access to candles?

Does your culture have access to string, ropes and twine?

Does your culture have access to leather, animal skins and/or furs, horse hair, feathers, scales, ivory, and other such materials? Could they perhaps have similar animal materials from fictional creatures? (E.g. dragon scale suits from the how to train your dragon series)

Does your culture have access to plastic?

Does your culture have access to materials most (if not all) human cultures do not have? How could you play around with this? What could these materials be used for? (E.g. an underwater society could use shark teeth as daggers, a society in space might trap stars in lanterns for lighting, etc. be creative!!!)

Food

Note- I have not included drinks here, but most of these questions will also apply to them.

What proteins/vegetables/fruit/grains/dairy does your culture eat, and how much do they have access to? What portions do they eat? (Note- this is directly affected by the availability of certain foods, not simply personal preference of those living in that area. What is your climate, and what animals and plants live and grow there?)

What flavours are enjoyed by your culture? (Note- salty cuisine may be indicative of having to keep food fresh for a long time, sugar may be inaccessible in certain areas, etc. consider why you have chosen what you have chosen.)

How is food stored? (Important! If they don’t have fridges, how do they keep their milk and eggs from going bad while transporting it? Is all their food fresh? Is it canned or non-perishable? What areas will have lower quality food, and why?)

if food travels a long while, it may be worse quality. Keep in mind where the food is coming from

What foods are easily accessible for all classes? What foods are not?

What foods are eaten by upper classes? What foods are eaten by lower class? How will each class view the foods eaten by the opposite class? 

What foods are considered a treat? (Keep in mind; someone (potentially in a lower class) may consider a food that someone else eats often to be a treat.)

How do some cultures view other cultures cuisine?

Is your culture aware they need a balanced diet? Do they have one? 

Where is food bought? From whom is it bought? (I.e. are there markets and salespeople? What do markets or shopping districts look like?)

How much do people eat? How many meals do they have? How big are those meals?

What would someone eat as a snack? What would they eat if they just needed a lot of energy and had barely any time/money/resources?

Do restaurants exist? Would the food in them be entirely authentic to your culture, or would they serve other cuisine? What would a restaurant look like? How many are there, and how often do people go to them?

Housing and architecture 

What do houses look like? What are they made of? How are they made? 

Are there homeless people? How are they treated by society? How are they treated by the government/monarchy/whatever your system of ruling is?

How are areas organised? (E.g. is there separation between more and less expensive neighbourhoods? Where are the shops, and such things?) (note- bad planning=bad quality of life, and more time to plan=better planning. Why is it organised the way it is? Is the planning amazing because one dude got free rein to make a city (like Canberra) or is it horrible because it was rushed?)

What rooms do houses often have? Do they have rooms at all? How many rooms do they have?

What does furniture look like? What is it made of? What types of furniture exist?

How are spaces decorated? Are they decorated at all? How does personal preference affect this? (Does your culture decorate with paintings, mosaics, tapestries, etc? Do they grow plants up the walls to fill empty space?)

If permanent structures are not a thing, what do the people in your culture use as shelter?

How are houses heated and/or cooled?

Plumbing. Does your culture have hot water? Does your culture have clean water? How? Do they use wells, or do they have pipes and aqueducts? Do they have to drink wine/ some other drink because it’s easier? Please don’t just assume they’ll have easy access to water.

PLUMBING. How do bathrooms work? Where does sewage go? (Do they have toilet paper?)

How are areas lit? Without electricity, lighting is a big issue. How much can the people in your culture see when the sun goes down?

If one does not own a home, can they rent one? Do apartment blocks exist? Do hotels and motels exist?

Transportation

Does tourism exist in your culture? How do locals feel about tourists? Why do tourists come?

Do people leave the place they live often? Will they know much (or anything) about other towns, cities, countries, etc?

How fast is each means of transportation? How far will they have to go? (How long will a letter take to send?)

For each means of transportation you must be able to answer: how common is it? How accessible is it? What is the overall view on it? When is it used, and when is it not?

How do vehicles move? (Do they have an engine? Are they pulled by an animal? Do they have oars? Are they steam-powered?)

What does each means of transportation look like? What are they made of? Where are they made?

What is required for the upkeep of each means of transportation?

How does the terrain affect travel?

Are there paths to walk or drive upon? What are they made of? How are they made? Do they require maintenance? Do they get maintenance?

How does the weather affect travel? (Especially water travel)

How is cargo protected from water damage?

Public transport! Do they have it? What is it? Where does it go, and what are its limitations? How many people can it take to a place? If someone never takes public transport anywhere, how will they act if they have to take it somewhere? How would someone who does take it act?

How are letters sent? Why is it done this way? How long does this take?

Weather and climate 

What are the seasons? (You can make them up! You can have more than 4! You can be creative! Make a season where meteors are falling all day every day, if you want! Have fun with it!)

What is the weather during each season? (Does it snow? Do leaves fall from trees in autumn?)

Generally, what is the temperature during each season?

How humid is it?

How does the weather affect clothing?

What methods do people in your culture have to manage the weather or protect themselves from it? (E.g. covering oneself in mud to avoid sunburn and mosquitoes, hibernation, etc)

This isn’t all weather, but how often do natural disasters occur? Are there are many active volcanoes? Are tsunamis common? Do flash floods occur a lot?

What is peoples view on the weather in their area? (keep in mind that oftentimes people get very sick of the weather they are used to, and find other weather more interesting.)

Education  

Who has access to an education, and who does not?

How much would an education cost? 

What is learnt in schools? What does the curriculum focus on, and what does it miss out on? What subjects are there? Can it be harmful at all? (E.g. teach misinformation)

Do University and similar education options exist?

What would a school look like? 

How strict are the rules in schools? 

Who has access to literature, and is able to learn to read? Who is not?

Are there schools for children with disabilities? Are they good? 

If someone cannot have an education, what will they do instead? What work can they do?

Who teaches children? Are they paid? How much? 

When do children leave school? (I.e. at what age?)

Does homeschooling or other education options exist? 

What emphasis is put on an education? If someone did not go to school, how would they be treated? Alternatively, if someone that people thought should not go to school (e.g. women, in some places and time periods) did, how would they be treated? 

Language

Does sign language exist? How many people know it? If those in your culture do not have hands in the same way most humans will have, try to think of other ways they could sign! (I.e. flashes of colour like a chameleon or octopus)(Note; if you intend to have sign mentioned a lot in a story, it might be best to have an idea of what some signs may look like)

Does written language exist? Who learns it? Does illiteracy negatively impact a person?

Does spoken language exist?

Does telepathic communication exist? How does it work? (Keep in mind- thoughts are not always perfect, fully formed sentences. They may not even be words at all! How does this affect telepathic communication?)

Are there any other means of communication? (E.g. text to speech, body language, expressions) what are the limits of these, and how does that affect those that communicate using it?

What is the dominant means of communication? What is the dominant language? Is there a globally used language? What is it? Why is that one the globally used language?

Are there multiple languages? How do they interact? Are they similar?

Are there linguistic differences within a single language (I.e. Auslan having multiple signs for ‘eat’ depending on where you are)? (spoiler alert: there will and probably should be)

How are people with smaller vocabulary/more difficulty talking treated? Why do they have less linguistic ability?

With knowledge of your cultures beliefs and ideas, try to think of the symbolism that your culture might use. (E.g. If someone wrote a poem about how their lover is the dirt, would that mean their lover is unimportant and to be trodden over, or does it mean their lover is the home of growth and life, the thing that supports us all? What do things in your culture symbolise, and why?) Try to think of an object/place/plant/anything culturally important that someone could use to symbolise 1) their lover 2) the family members they love 3) someone they hate 4) a close friend

How is cursing treated? Is it commonplace?

And, just for fun; how would people insult each other? Come up with an insult in your culture! (My fictional world often uses ‘unnatural’ as an insult, as they worship nature)

Class and power 

Who is ‘in charge’? (E.g. A monarch, a council of lords, a government, etc)

If the person (or people) in charge leave their position (they are overthrown, their presidency ends, they die, they step down, etc) who takes over? How is a new ruler chosen?

How does the person in power rule? What do they have control over, and what do they not? 

What gives power? (Wealth, Magical ability, strength, etc) how would someone gain power? Can they gain power?

How is/are the person/people in power viewed by both lower and upper classes?

Is there a large class divide?

How do the lower classes view the upper classes, and vice versa?

What can someone in power do to lose or gain respect? Do they know this?

What is the currency? (It could be coins and metals, but it does not have to be.) Does everyone use the currency, or just upper class peoples? Is there a currency at all? If someone is not paid with money, how else are they paid? (Land or housing, perhaps?)

How much do upper class people know about lower classes lives, and vice versa? How does this affect relationships between the two? Does the ruler know what lower class lives are like?

Do servants, butlers, etc, exist? Who has them? Are they treated well? Do they live in the house they serve?

How are staff/employees treated? How good is their pay? How much time can they have off work? 

What is the cost of living? Can many people afford it?

Law 

I’m fairly sure this one is obvious, but: what are the laws?

Are there any things that are illegal that perhaps shouldn’t be? (E.g. being queer being illegal in some areas)

Are there any things that are legal that perhaps shouldn’t be? (E.g. my own fictional world having murder be legal as long as the victim is under 10 years old.)

What is the punishment for breaking the law?

How does age impact punishment?

What is the treatment towards the law and it’s enforcers? 

Who enforces the law?

What is the view on vigilantes?

How can the law and its enforcers be unfair? (Is it less harsh on more wealthy people, is it likely to harm minorities, etc)

What is the trial process? Is there one?

Is there a death penalty?

And if there is no finite law: what rules are generally accepted, and what is the punishment for breaking them?

War and combat

are children taught how to fight from a young age? Why? 

What weapons and armour are used? What are the restrictions surrounding them? How can they hurt/protect a person? What is the upkeep required for them?

How is a war started? Who calls for a war to happen?

How does war affect the world, and those in the warring countries? 

How does war affect the economy and trading?

What combat styles are popular?

What is the view of war from the view of civilians, those fighting, and those in power?

How is the army or those who can fight organised? Do they have sufficient training?

Who fights in a war, and why? Are they or their family compensated? Is it for honour? Who doesn’t fight? Why?

Is your culture particularly prone to war? Why or why not?

How are refugees in or from your culture treated? 

Prejudice

which groups are oppressed? What is the reason for it? What do the oppressors say the reason is?

Which groups are oppressors?

Are the oppressed groups in most of our modern cultures treated badly in your culture? (E.g. people of colour, queer people, disabled people, neurodivergent people, people who follow certain religions) are there any other oppressed groups? (E.g. people with magic)

How does prejudice affect oppressed groups? Are they hurt? Killed? What micro-aggressions are present? 

How do oppressed groups fight back? Can they fight back?

How do oppressed groups try to blend in/ hide their minority identity? Can they do so?

Art 

Who does art? Is it only those with the money to do it, or does everyone have access to it? And even if everyone can do art, who does and doesn’t? 

What forms of art exist/are most popular? (Don’t be afraid to make something up! Fantasy types of art would be so cool)

What materials is art done with? 

What type of art is most widespread? How does its popularity affect the culture? (E.g. in my fantasy culture, glassblowing and stained glass are very popular art forms, so I am sure to mention it more often than, say, pottery, and to be creative with what is made of glass)

Is art present even in everyday objects like paintings on the bowls you’d eat dinner on or detailed carvings in one’s bed frame, or is it very separate from non-art items? How can it’s prevalence help build the world or descriptions of said world?

Is art used for ceremonies or religious purposes? How?

How does your culture view art? Is it seen as important? Pointless? A fun little meaningless hobby?

What is art used to convey? (Can it protest bad ruling, share one’s life experiences, depict stories, worship (the) God(s)?)

Fashion and beauty 

Do sumptuary laws exist? Why? What are they?

How is clothing washed? How often is it washed? Who washes it? Where does it dry?

Who makes clothing?

Are fabrics often dyed or painted? What colours are they dyed or painted in? What patterns are painted? What are they dyed with? (Note: this will often impact cost. If someone does not have much money, they may not have brightly dyed fabrics, depending on the accessibility of dye)

What styles of clothing are popular? What styles are more expensive, and why? 

What fabrics are used? (Cotton, linen, wool, silk, velvet, etc) are there other fabrics or clothing materials you can imagine? (E.g. the spider silk clothing from Gregor the Overlander, or the dresses made of salt in ‘The Siren’)

How many items of clothing do people often have?

Do makeup and wigs exist? What are they made from? What styles are popular? Who wears them, and when, or for what? Are they gendered?

Does plastic surgery exist? And if your culture has no plastic, can a similar procedure be done with magic?

What are the beauty standards, and why are those considered beautiful? (E.g. being fat being the beauty standard in the past as it meant one had wealth) Are there prominent figures that affect this? (E.g. celebrities, popular artists work)

How do people treat immodesty and nudity? What parts of the body cannot be shown? Do these rules differ depending on who you are? (E.g. my fantasy world allows those with magic to show more skin, as that way you can see the physical manifestations of their magic easier)

How many layers of clothing are common, and what are those layers and their purposes? (This is affected often by temperature, or a desire for volume in clothing.)

What underwear is worn? (Optional)

What do shoes look like? What types of shoes are there? How many pairs would people own?

Is clothing and beauty gendered? (It doesn’t have to be!)

How does where someone lives affect their clothing? (E.g. a person living on a farm isn’t exactly going to wear ballgowns everywhere.)

What hairstyles are popular? Why? Who are they popular with?

What perfumes/colognes/scents are popular? Why? How are such scents made?

I don’t have another place to put hygiene questions, so they’re going here. How often do people in your culture bathe and brush their teeth? What do they bathe with? (I.e. do they have baths, and warm water to fill them? Or do they have to just towel themselves off every once in a while?) do they have soap? How would someone be treated if they did not bathe, or if they did not smell pleasant?

How is class shown in accessories or clothing? 

Sex and Romance 

Does marriage, or a similar legal, religious or romantic ceremony exist? What are the traditions surrounding it?

How would someone in your culture court/flirt with another? 

What is considered romantic in your culture? (E.g. Is there a certain flower used to convey romantic love? Would a kiss on the cheek be seen as more romantic than a kiss on the lips? Would there be specific romantic pet-names for a partner?) Why is this considered romantic?

What importance or weight is placed upon marriage, romance, sex, having kids, etc, in your culture? Is it entirely unimportant and optional, or is it seen as absolutely vital for everyone? Why is this importance or lack thereof present? How would a greater or lesser importance impact the culture and those in it? (E.g. In my fictional world, romance is seen as entirely optional and even unimportant or unlikely, and so people can be extremely close, and even do traditionally romantic things without others thinking they are anything but friends.)

How are gay, aromantic and/or asexual and polyamorous people treated in your culture? Why?

Is sex taboo in your culture? Is it more taboo for certain people? (E.g. would it be more frowned upon for a woman to speak about sex than a man? Why?)

How is pornography, sex toys, kinks and fetishes, STD’s and STI’s, sexual pleasure/ desire, and sexual discussions treated in your culture? Why are they treated this way?

Leisure

Note- it is easy, when writing fantasy, to forget that people have downtime. But in reality, people do stupid, weird things when they’re bored. People play games and goof around. Don’t forget this, as it really helps flesh out a world!

what sports exist in your culture? What is the ‘culture’ surrounding these sports? Do people get competitive over teams they like? Who plays the sport? Are there professional sports players, and if so, how do they get that status? How do people watch sports, and learn the rules?

If a child is bored with nothing to do, where will they go? Is there a library around? Is there a playground, or a relatively empty street they can kick a ball around? And the same sort of questions for all ages. Where do adults go when they’re bored? (Bars? Restaurants? Friends houses?) what about teenagers? Young adults?

What other games are there? Try to come up with at least three. 1) a game you can play without any materials, and in any place (something like rock-paper-scissors or eye-spy, but ✨fantasy version✨) 2) something you’d need the fantasy equivalent of a pack of cards and a minute or so of rules explaining. (Like Uno or blackjack, or some board games) 3) something more in-depth that takes a few hours or so. (Like DND, magic the gathering, monopoly, perhaps, etc etc)

What other hobbies can people take up? Do the people in your culture know how to sew? Are they super into taxidermy? What are very common hobbies (like watching TV or reading) and what are the less or not-at-all common ones? (Like spending 7 hours writing this godforsaken list because it’s extremely fun) How are these hobbies viewed by people who don’t do it? 

And if those in your culture don’t have hours of downtime, think about what parts of their day they might use as rest. Perhaps if a woman is forced to sew and clean all day, she’ll do it with other women so she can gossip and talk to them. No one can work all day every day without any sort of rest or fun.

Performances! Does your culture have operas? Dances that tell stories? Comedic performances? Do the performers travel, or do they stay in one place, like at a theatre? Do these performances cost money? Who will have watched one? Who watches them frequently? Who doesn’t have the time/money for them?

Do drugs and alcohol exist? What is the culture surrounding them? (Do people do them just for fun, in social situations, etc?) are there addicts, and how are they treated? What do drugs and alcohol do to the people in your culture? And if not drugs and alcohol, are there other substances one can use in place of them?

A few questions that fit nowhere else:

Do people have pets? What pets do they have? Do the pets serve a purpose (like wolves and cats to hunt, dogs to pull a sled, goats for milk etc?)? What is the general treatment towards pets?

Who takes care of very young children (below school age)? Is it a parent or an outside carer (Like a daycare)? 

Are there other holidays or special days unrelated to religion? Are birthdays celebrated? New years? How are they celebrated?

Feel free to add more!!!

[aptericia]

Not proud to be here.

--

Ok, here goes draft like 5 of this fucking post. I spent 4 hours tossing and turning in bed last night thinking about this, and then this morning I found a tumblr post that really helped me understand what I was trying to say.

The post talks about how aromantic "advocates" claim that "aros don't take up resources, so there's no reason not to include them!" And if that's actually what people believe, I think I can finally articulate why it is that I feel so alienated in queer spaces.

It's because aspecs in general aren't "welcomed" by much of the queer community. We're tolerated. We perhaps get the luxury of not being contradicted on our own identities, or not being specifically kicked out of LGBTQ-only spaces, but that's the whole point: what we get out of the queer "community" is people NOT doing things, not actually doing things FOR us. And that, frankly, is not enough. We deserve conversations about us. We deserve to have others consider our feelings, even when making lighthearted jokes. We deserve varied, respectful representation in media. We deserve the active deconstruction of amatonormativity in society. We deserve to have space made for us, rather than at most being told we should "go take up more space!" ourselves.

Of course, the reality is that my being aspec is a personal matter that does not inherently affect anyone else. But the same can be said for literally any queer identity. Your being gay doesn't say anything about me, so of course I shouldn't hurt you for it, but why should I help you either? Because your happiness and comfort are important. The same goes for aspecs.

And most of the time, I don't even need anyone to make space for or expend resources on me; I can live fine in everyday, non-queer-specific places without mentioning my identity at all. But it's the queer community that claims it will make that space for me, doesn't, and then acts defensive and morally pure if I call out the hypocrisy because "we're queer too, you can't erase our identities to advocate for yours!!!!"

Again, this post isn't about specifics. I have queer friends who are incredibly thoughtful and supportive about my identity, just as I have non-queer friends who are. I find more solidarity in aspec-only communities, as well as trans/genderqueer ones, although there are still many exceptions. This post is also not about amatonormative ideology, which is extremely common from queer and non-queer people alike. This post is about the reason I've felt so betrayed by the queer community.

--

On a personal note, I remember being so excited when I started identifying as aromantic (and later asexual). Fitting myself into labels has been a lifelong struggle for me; to this day I still can't confidently say if I'm White or PoC, neurotypical or neurodivergent, abled or disabled, cisgender or not cisgender. I continue to struggle making friends because I don't fall into social cliques. To discover that I officially, certainly, was LGBTQ+ lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. And now I'm just so sad to find that despite that, I'm still stuck in the middle. I didn't get rewarded with a community. I still feel alienated from both queer and non-queer people. I know it was silly to get my hopes up when there's such vast diversity in both groups, but it really was a disappointment. Going to my first Pride parade last year was really the moment where I realized this.

[sweetlemontart]

call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

masterlist link

Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath. 

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on. 

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease. 

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago. 

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend. 

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification. 

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck. 

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan. 

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious. 

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by. 

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier. 

"Is that it?" you asked him. 

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head. 

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you. 

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest. 

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name. 

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach. 

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes. 

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further. 

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show. 

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal. 

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more. 

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow. 

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to. 

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit. 

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut. 

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge. 

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in. 

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much? 

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend. 

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it. 

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer. 

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising. 

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants. 

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.  

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light. 

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you. 

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet. 

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum. 

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back. 

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath. 

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes. 

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips. 

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting. 

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening. 

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all. 

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" 

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better. 

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him. 

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh. 

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips. 

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole. 

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt. 

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit. 

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up. 

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow. 

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt. 

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name. 

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know. 

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle. 

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy. 

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it. 

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours. 

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp. 

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt. 

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow. 

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

 "Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him. 

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full. 

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess." 

"W-What?" you squeak out. 

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans. 

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest. 

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you. 

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin. 

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air. 

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?" 

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs. 

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst. 

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors. 

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind. 

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance. 

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry? 

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes. 

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again. 

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high. 

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet. 

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it. 

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal. 

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck. 

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing. 

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk. 

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly. 

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out. 

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago. 

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair. 

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind. 

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?" 

 "Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes. 

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..." 

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—" 

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once. 

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head. 

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush. 

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open. 

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer. 

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him. 

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath. 

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..." 

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure. 

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly. 

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his. 

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss. 

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine. 

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes. 

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice. 

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek. 

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom. 

© sweetlemontart — all rights reserved.

[purplealmonds]

Finished this just in time for the new trailer drop! This is my Mononoke illustration featuring assorted merch from the anime, movie, and stage play! How many can you recognize? ⚖️👹

(Yes, please send answers in the replies! Answers, progress pics, artist commentary will be drafted on a separate post when I'm less tired) ⭐️ UPDATE 04/03/24: Abridged artist commentary is now available under the cut! For the full version, please see the Google Doc linked in the replies.

👁️Overview 

Late last year, I rather belatedly discovered Mononoke’s 15th anniversary came and went, and with it, an entire swath of new content to manically pore over. This is an illustration of the various Mononoke merchandise, props, and set dressing I discovered.

---

🔎Scope

Some fun facts regarding the work that went into this illustration!

Not including research time, this project ran for roughly two months, consuming much of my waking hours outside of my full time and freelance jobs.

While the illustration does not depict all of my findings, it does feature over 120 unique props and set dressings!

The majority of the props and set dressing were modeled to varying degrees of detail in SketchUp.

To model prep, I often put together schematics on Photoshop or Illustrators. Some were created from scratch. Others were created with the liberal usage of the Photoshop transform and perspective warp function. 

The master file is 1.5GB. The dimensions are 6400x3600 at 300 dpi, and contains over 2,200 layers. 

Near the end of production, the master file became so unwieldy I created a separate working file. This way, I could create assets lag-free then import the layers into the master file. 

---

Past this point is where most of the commentary cuts were made for the sake of brevity. Again, look in the replies for the Google Doc link containing the full version with a table of contents for easier navigation!

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🗳️3D Layout

As you can see, the backbone of this illustration is the 3D model. I spent perhaps 30-40% of my production time on this stage.

And this is the lit version. The lighting ultimately got downplayed in favor of showcasing the vibrant colors. I like how simple it looks though!

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🎬Production-Based Set Dressing

In addition to merchandise, I wanted to insert set dressing and props from the various Mononoke productions. 

🦊Kusuriuri

It’s odd to have a section dedicated just to him, but his unique appearance warrants it. His garb and overall appearance is an amalgam of the anime and movie. The original intent was ambiguity– kind of like the blue/black vs. yellow/white dress phenomena a few years back. But after doing the color flats, I rather liked how the rich, unaltered colored fit with the overall composition so it became more blatant. I’m surprised that nobody has commented on this since I published the illustration. Maybe because I didn’t feature him in a close-up?

🐈 kai ~Ayakashi~Bake Neko (2006)

Finding props iconic to this story arc (outside of the Kusuriuri’s tools of trade, of course) was somewhat difficult. While the environment was richly decorated, it mainly consisted of 2D artwork which I wasn’t keen on retracing. I opted to paint objects that characters interacted with or featured heavily in the show.

Salt Jar

Candlestick

Rat Trap

🦋Mononoke (2007)

The props fall into three distinct categories here: Kusuriuri’s tools and trinkets; things featured in the opening and ending credits; and objects iconic to each of the five story arcs in the series. I tried to keep most of them clustered on the tatami, but as space grew scarce some props trickled up onto the deck as well.

Medicine Box

Exorcism Sword

Tenbin

Paper Talisman

Mirror

Ring

Geta Sandal

Necklace

Paper Umbrella (Zashikiwarashi)

Daruma Dolls ( Zashikiwarashi)

Gunpowder Ball (Umi Bozu)

Smoking Pipe (Nopperabou)

Genjiko Blocks (Nue)

Train Ticket (Bake Neko)

Lantern (Anime OP)

Butterflies (Anime EP)

☂️Mononoke: Karakasa (2024)

Pretty slim pickings for the new movie since I only had the teaser, first trailer, and movie poster to reference from. Kusuriuri’s tools of trade were a given, but finding memorable and narratively significant objects was a tad troublesome.

Thankfully, the set dressing ended up (however subconsciously) strikingly similar to the movie’s environment design, down to the green tatami and multicolor shoji screen. I suppose at this point I was so immersed in Mononoke content that its aesthetics subconsciously informed my design choices! 

Exorcism Sword

Tenbin

Paper Talisman

Comb

Movie Poster

Butterfly (Custom design)

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🪭Official Merchandise

Goods related to canonical narratives and/or productions.

🎊15th Anniversary

Mononoke Shu - A light novel by Hideyui Niki & illustrated by 2964_KO

Whiskey Glass & Box

📖 Key Frame Art Books by Hashimoto Takashi

Ayakashi Key Art Frame Book (2010)

Key Frame Art Book vol.9 (2017)

📚Manga by Yaeko Ninagawa

Kai Ayakashi: Bake Neko Vol. 1-2

Kai Ayakashi: Mononoke Prequel

Mononoke Vol. 1-10

🎭Butai Mononoke

Bakeneko Pamphlet 

Zashikiwarashi Pamphlet

Zashikiwarashi Acrylic Standees

Zashikiwarashi Manegi

💿Physical Media

Official OST CD

DVD Box Set

Yokai Pattern Fabric

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Common Collab Merchandise

This category consists of goods that are generally more affordable and feature graphics from the source material with minimal alterations.

Amnibus

Wall Scrolls

Tenugui Fabric 

Shot Glasses

Minoyaki Bean Plates

ANIGA-TER

Stickers

Can Badges

Canvas Prints

Anique

Diorama Acrylic Stand

Acrylic Blocks

Challenge Kuji

Kusuriuri & Hyper Clocks

eeo Store Online

Folding Fan

Keychains

Can Badges

gj character G

Cushion

Acrylic Charms

Neo Gate

Satchels

Mini Badges

Mini Badges by Mame Shinoda

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High-End Collab Merchandise

Goods which derive motifs from the characters, props, and patterns from the production and transform them in an elevated manner through abstraction or usage of precious materials.

gj character G

Exorcism Sword Ring

Goodsmile

Kusuriuri Nendoroid Figurine

Folding Screen

Kusuriuri & Hyper Plush

Tote Bag

Kaya

Umbrella

Tenbin Kanzashi

Tabi Socks

Dress

Kotobukiya

Figurine

Mayla

Pump Heels

Kusuriuri & Hyper Hairpins

Tenbin Earrings

Hyper Earrings

Noitamina Apparel

Perfume

Tenbin Necklace

Folding Fan

Super Groupies

Purse

Wallet

Watch

Tsumuji Design

Exorcism Sword Necklace

Ofuda Bracelet

Useless Use Lab

Fragrance Set

Air Purifier

Three-Sided Mirror

[taintandviolent]

Rien ; Marquis de Gramont x Reader

summary: You get a new job as stablehand at the luxurious palace of Marquis de Gramont, and the job is everything you thought it be. Marquis, however, isn't.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.7K | French dialogue (translations provided), smut with a sprinkling of plot, fingering, female reader, dirty talk, degradation (name calling, spanking), humiliation, abuse of power / power play, manipulation, Vincent being an absolute asshole (because he is one), abuse of power, brief food play, uhhhh - I think that's it.

a/n: deepest apologies for any errors in the French; I studied it in briefly in college and speak like a child. I tried to use google translate as little as possible, so most of this is just... painfully scraped from the confines of my mind. banners by @/saradika and @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Exactly two weeks after you’d started working for him, you’d laid eyes on the elusive Marquis. Most of the time, you were ordered by other staff to ready and bring out a specific horse before returning to your duties, never interacting with the infamous owner. However, one afternoon, he, the Marquis, walked through the stables himself. You had been brushing Bellefleur, a beautiful mare with the temperament of an angel, when you heard his voice echoing through the paddocks. He was speaking angrily about a man whom you didn’t know, discussing matters that didn’t concern you. You peeked up over the edge of the stable as he approached. 

It had been audacious to speak to him at all, considering, but something in your gut moved your limbs without thinking. You took two large steps backwards, moving your body into the opening of the stable. 

“Bonjour, monsieur.” (Good morning, sir.) 

He stopped walking, hands in his pockets. He seemed to consider that he’d just been spoken to, but finally asked what your name was. You told him, albeit somewhat shyly, unsure of whether or not this would result in you losing your job. 

There was no reply, however before continuing on down the long pathway, his heavy, lascivious gaze lingered on your body for far too long to be considered accidental. You had looked down at your own image, wondering what it was that he saw. The tightness of your uniform, perhaps. To a man’s gaze, the way your breasts filled your blouse, the way your trousers hugged your soft thighs and rounded out over the curve of your rear could be cause for a persistent gaze.  

The visits to the paddocks became more frequent after that. 

Some days, he was very cordial, responding curtly, but acknowledging you all the same. He went to you directly to retrieve the horses, fulfilling you with a false sense of importance and power. Other days, he ignored you altogether, dismissing your existence as easily as hay on the ground. So, why had you been developing a lust for the man? With so few interactions and none of them tempting in nature, it was almost embarrassing. 

Today is not one of the days where he ignores you.  

“Rien,” he growls from behind you. (Nothing.) You hadn’t even heard him come in, nor had you heard his approaching footsteps. You turn abruptly to face him and like usual, are staggered by the way he looks. He’s dressed immaculately, this time, wearing a light grey suit. 

“Rien?” you ask, confused. The brush drifts away from Eclair’s neck as your hand falls to your side. “Monsieur?” (Sir?)

“That’s what you are. You are nothing. As much as they are nothing to me, you are nothing.” He gestured dismissively, you assumed, to the other stablehands.  

Your brows knit together, visibly offended. “I…” 

You blink, stopping yourself from continuing any further. Though the Marquis spoke perfect English, you’d been told that he preferred his employees to speak in French when addressing him. Something to do with respect. 

He continues. “And yet…” 

Feeling the need to swallow, you wet your throat and find your words. “J-je ne suis pas sûr de comprendre, monsieur… Je…” (I’m not sure I understand, sir.) 

You swallow again, and look up into his piercing green eyes. “Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire?”  (What do you mean?)

He grabs your chin hard between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it up towards him. The harshness of the action startles you and the brush goes clattering to the cement floor, echoing throughout the paddocks. The closeness, though laced with hostility, has you throbbing between your legs. 

“You don’t understand what I mean?” His French accent is heavy, dripping like cream from his tongue. 

You shake your head, wincing as his fingers dig deeper into your jawline. “Non, j-je suis désolée.” (No, I-I’m sorry.)

“I know it’s difficult for you to express yourself in my native tongue, ma petite.” (My little one.)  You furrow your brows; he was so insulting without even trying. So insulting, in fact, that you can’t even focus on the charming little nickname he threw in. Wanting to prove him wrong, you clench your jaw as you take a step back, weakly attempting to pull yourself from his grasp. Your father had taught you French from the time you were a baby, you spoke it very well, and you – 

“Look at you,” he starts, his eyes sweeping over every feature on your face. “Tending to my horses every day. Cleaning their shit from the ground on which they walk. Pauvre petite chose…” (Poor little thing) 

As he speaks, you’re at a loss for words, unsure of how to proceed, how to answer him. Your ego is bruised and your jaw is sure to follow; the harder you try to wrench your face from his grip, the harder that grip presses into you, digging into the bone beneath the flesh. He bends down, putting his mouth dangerously close to your face, close enough to feel the heat that radiates between you two.

“J’en ne pas stupide.” (I’m not stupid.) He snips, looking down at you with unbridled hostility. 

He repeats the words against the shell of your ear, which sends a vicious shiver down your spine. Your cunt twinges with heat again, and the shuddering doesn’t stop – as though you’ve been out in the cold, freezing from a winter’s chill, your body quivers deep within your core.

“Je sais...” (I know) You acknowledge feebly. A blush crawls up the column of your neck. 

“I see the way in which you look at me. It is not a secret, you know?” 

He takes a single step forward, closing in the distance between your bodies. With no indication, no warning, his free hand cups your cunt outside of your pants, fingers stretching down between your legs. You inhale to gasp, to ask him what he’s doing, but the hand that holds your jaw slips fluidly over your mouth, silencing it. You gaze up into his eyes, searching them for an explanation, but he’s too busy to look at you, to give you any sort of comfort. Instead, he’s locked on the mound between your thighs, watching as his own fingers explore over the fabric, already feeling the damp heat that penetrates the fabric.

At this taste of what’s beneath, Vincent’s long, lithe fingers then make quick work of your trousers, opening the front of them and deftly slipping inside. You freeze, knowing that your body is about to betray you. Violently. Cruelly. His digits dig past the warmth of your folds, slipping past your quickly swelling clit, delving deeper. The brief contact is enough to send you toppling into his arms, but somehow, you stay upright and instead, tighten your fists into fleshy wads. The pads of his middle and ring finger smear at your entrance, searching for the answer to a question he didn’t ask. He taps your leaking slit a few times with a lazy curiosity. Immediately, you can feel your slick stringing from your cunt, spreading easily over your folds.

“You’re wet,” he hisses. “Whore.” 

Somehow, you feel the word before you hear it. It lands like a crushing slap to the face, and your cunt responds by clenching hard, leaking more out into Vincent’s waiting fingers. They twitch against you, pressing to your entrance and slipping inside just enough to make your knees buckle. 

He walks you back against the wood, sandwiching you between Eclair and the door. You strain against his grip again, flitting your gaze towards the horse whose ears twitch but other than that small movement, doesn’t seem bothered by the altercation happening next to him. Almost embarrassed, you whimper softly and look back to the Marquis; his gaze is on you now, watching every miniscule flicker of emotion. Your brows knit together as you shake your head in disbelief, unsure of what is happening. 

“Hm?” He prods your entrance with his middle finger, inserting it to the first joint. Your mind buzzes, blanking on words – in any language. It slips in further with no resistance and your lids flutter helplessly, as the sensations take control of your body. Searching, scrambling for stability, you flatten your palms against the cool, smooth wood of the stable. A bridle hangs down next to your pinky finger, and you have half a mind to wrap it tightly around your hand.

Crooking his finger slightly, he pumps it slowly in and out of your wet cunt. “You like that, no?”

His slow ministrations have you reeling, shivering in front of him. Silently, you wonder what would happen if you said yes. You open your eyes to his, and swallow. Up until now, you stood on your tiptoes, trying to escape his lewd actions, but now, you let your weight down, pushing his finger in all the way to the knuckle. His finger curls, hitting a deeper spot within you that has your toes curling within your boots. Your eyes roll back in your head at this, feeling overwhelmed. Weakly and awkwardly, you stumble over your next words, mumbling them clumsily into his fingers. “… qu’est-ce que tu fais…?” (What are you doing?)

He chuckles through his nose – at what, you don’t know – but as quickly as his hand has slipped in, it disappears, leaving you to pitch forward slightly into his long torso. He examines his finger briefly, which glistens with your arousal. With no regard for your own pleasure, he shoulders you off, and retracts his other hand from your mouth, allowing your breath to tumble out. Wordlessly, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a white handkerchief, hastily wiping his fingers on it before tucking it back into the confines of his slacks. 

You collapse against the wood once more, your chest heaving with laboured, confused exhalations. This time, Eclair shifts away from you slightly, and huffs out a breath. The Marquis watches you, the hints of a smirk upon his shapely, seductive lips. Though you were still fully dressed, you felt unnervingly exposed. Humiliated, even. You reach forward to button yourself back up, doing your best not to fumble with the clasps.

“Follow me.”

Before you can blink, he’s already left the stable. You hurriedly exit, and grip the handle of the door, sliding it shut before securing the latch. The Marquis is already briskly walking away, his long strides carrying him farther and farther away from you, fully confident that you’re following him. As quietly as possible, you trot up behind him, not wanting to irritate him by being slow. The warm smell of wood shavings fills your nostrils as you run, but the second you’re behind him, you’re assaulted with the rich, expensive scent of his cologne. You inhale it deeper, wanting it to stain your lungs. 

As you follow him through the grounds, you take in your surroundings, head swinging to and fro to gobble up the visuals of unknown territory. You only ever got to see the stables and the fields behind it, which was necessary for riding and walking the horses. Naturally, your curiosity is peaked when he leads you both inside the towering, luxurious palace he calls home. Down opulent hall after opulent hall, with attendants opening each and every door that he comes to, you finally make it to your destination. 

The room is massive, and seems to glitter with all the gold details. You’ve never been to Versailles, but you assume the grandeur is similar. It’s sparse in furniture, save for a red velvet couch near the entrance. At the end of the room, sits a large table, adorned with every cake and pastry you could dream of; tiny crystal dishes of raspberries and strawberries, plates of cakes and cookies. They’re all picturesque, and the air is cloying, heavy with the scent of sugars and fragrant fruits. 

He beckons you with two fingers – a specific choice. A violent chill runs down your spine, feeling like there’s ice water cascading down the length of it. Once you’re standing next to him, looking at the dishes in front of you, you feel the weight of his aura, his existence. A few moments ago, you were merely a stablehand. Now, you were something else – you knew not what yet – standing inside the palace, a place where very few had the privilege of being. The tension between you two weighs heavy on your shoulders. 

Abruptly, the Marquis reaches over to pinch your mouth open, squeezing hard until your jaws pop apart. You wince, but succumb to his touch, albeit a little too easily. While watching intently, he brings a cream puff to your mouth, setting it carefully on your tongue. Instincts kick in, and you close your mouth, chewing carefully as cream oozes out from between the layers of fine puff pastry, and you swallow it down. 

He clocks your satisfied reaction, and smirks. “Delicious, isn’t it?” 

You nod apprehensively. It is delicious, of course, though your thoughts are tangled in the undisclosed eroticism of the moment, and the sickeningly unobvious reason why he’s brought you here. He picks up a macaron and carefully takes a bite, holding his other hand underneath his mouth to catch any crumbs, though none fall. 

“Comment dit-on… gourmand de sucreries?” (How do you say… greedy for sweets?)

“Sweet tooth,” you breathe, suspecting he already knew the answer. “You have a sweet tooth.”

“Mmm. I do.” The sound is syrupy within his throat. 

Surely, he hasn’t brought you here to enjoy some pastries. You swallow again, and muster up the courage to ask him: “Que voulez-vous de moi?” (What do you want from me?)

You brace for the oncoming response, half expecting him to say rien again. Instead, he finishes the macaron, and turns to you again, leaning forward. He reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from your cheek, combing it gently behind your ear, and hums, his fingers lingering on the softness of your jaw. His voice is hushed as he tilts his head down to look at you.

“Tout. Je veux tout.” (Everything. I want everything.) 

With your faces inches apart, the Marquis de Gramont captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one that oozes dominance, staking his claim in your core. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, prodding past your lips and teeth until it finds your own wet muscle. Instinctively, you kiss him back, but your frazzled nerves inhibit any true passion. Your lust is clouded by uncertainness, tainting the otherwise intoxicating experience at hand. His hand flies to the nape of your neck where he pulls you closer, deeper. You taste his essence and raspberry-flavored remnants of the macaron, and you swallow into the kiss, your lids fluttering helplessly. But no…

You jerk your head back away from him. Your tongue sweeps out over your bottom lip, cleaning up the mutual saliva that has spread across it. 

“J'en suis pas une pute.” (I’m not a whore.) 

With his hand still on your neck, he laughs, the sound vibrating in his throat. “You will be.” 

And again, his mouth is on yours, hungrily claiming it as though he deserved it. Which, in his mind, you knew, he did. He deserved everything he wanted, and perhaps, that was the essence of why you were here – he wanted you, so he’d have you. 

He continues to kiss you in such a way that leaves you gasping for air – literally – and every time you do, his mouth finds your neck, your collarbone, your ear. Refusing to remove his lips from your body, he’s ravenous, devouring you like he would the sweets on the table. 

“Monsieur,” you plead, babbling senselessly. “Monsieur,… why?” 

“Because,” he hums into the crook of your neck. “Ahh, you weren’t listening, were you?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment before continuing. “As I said before, I see the way in which you look at me, watch me, desire me.” He presses a long, tender kiss just below your ear, and his hand ghosts up over your stomach, coming to rest on the fullness of your breast. “And because, I want it.”  

He’s unbuttoning your blouse before you can stop him. Not that you’d want to, anyway; you’d been dreaming about this for weeks. As he works to expose your chest to him, carefully slipping each  button from its slit, he murmurs into your collarbone, the feeling sending another convulsive shiver down your back.

“Tell me… Do you value your position?”

You nod hurriedly, hoping to convince him. A single, long finger ghosts your shoulder, trailing down your arm. “Then you agree to be my little slut, hm? For me to use whenever I desire, oui?” (Yes?)

While the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, you gulp down your words. There’s no sense in protesting to preserve your feeble morals; not when you want him the way you do, and not with your job at stake. He reaches around your back, undoing the clasp of the bra. Your tits fall free then, and his large comes to cup one of them, kneading the supple, pliant flesh while your nipple grazes the smooth skin of his palm. You whimper, your hand jerking up to grip his bicep. The stimulation entices your arousal further, warmth pooling between your legs again. He worsens your condition by rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling a pathetic sounding mewl from your lips. You roll your eyes to the ceiling, silently cursing him. 

His hands move away from your breast, up to your face, where roughly, he prods your mouth with his fingers, examining your teeth and tongue. Much like he would a horse, you realize. The sensation is terrifying, but erotic and you grip his arm harder. Wordlessly, he reaches behind him to the table filled with decadence, and with two fingers again, scoops up a healthy dollop of cream frosting from atop a cake. 

“Suck them,” he growls.

It’s a command, not a suggestion, and you obey it, drawing them into your mouth tentatively. Your lips – bruised and swollen from his assaulting kisses – tighten, closing around his digits, all while maintaining eye contact with him. As though you were starved for it, you suck gently, while your tongue begins to swipe back and forth, removing all traces of the cream. You weren’t an idiot – this was a test. A test which you pass with flying colours apparently, because the Marquis actually smiles as he withdraws his fingers from the warm confines of your mouth. 

Heat roils in your core as he disconnects from you, and you can do nothing but watch as he pushes the delicate dishes to the left, haphazardly clearing a space on the table. Your eyes sweep back and forth, watching as the cakes and pastries crowd each other. He doesn’t seem to care, single-mindedly only thinking of what he’s about to do to you. He turns back to you, his green eyes burning with arousal. Again, the Marquis unbuttons your pants, this time, aggressively pulling down the zip. He gestures to the table with a nod of his head. He doesn’t have to tell you what to do – you know what he wants. 

In silence, you take your place in front of the table, and hinge your body at the waist to bend over the ornate surface. Cruelly, he yanks your pants over the plush curve of your ass, exposing you to him. There is another rustle of fabric behind you as the Marquis frees his own aching arousal from his slacks. You hear him hiss through his teeth; you presume as he takes his dick into his hand. Your body jolts forward as you feel the pads of his fingers prod tease your leaking slit, smearing your arousal through your folds. 

His hand stretches over your ass, taking a fist full of it before drifting down. He reaches your cunt, admiring her from behind. With a hitched breath, he pulls apart your folds with the pad of his thumb, revealing your aching, wet center. 

“C’est parfait… mm.” (It’s perfect…)

Praise? From him? You swallow the lump in your throat.  

He shuffles behind you, bringing his body closer. That’s when you feel it; the searing hot head of his cock pushing insistently against your clenching slit. You whine and press your thighs tightly together, a desperate attempt to alleviate the building pressure. Futile, because the moment he notices this, he kicks your legs apart with the toe of his polished shoe. 

“Dis-moi que tu veux que je te baise.” (Tell me you want me to fuck you.) 

“Please…. Please.” 

A hand comes down upon your ass cheek, the sound of it echoing throughout the room like a gunshot. The pain sears through your nervous system as the skin swells up, blooming like a flower with the imprint of his hand. “You can do better than that!” 

You try again, this time in French. You knew he was condescending about you speaking French, but there was a deep rooted need to prove that you could. “B-baise-moi… baise-moi, s’il te plait, monsieur.” (Fuck me, fuck me please monsieur.)

He chuckles, and you just know he’s shaking his head, perhaps calling you The American in his mind. He presses the heavy tip deeper into your folds, smearing it down over your swelling clit and combining both your fluids. Your hips jerk instinctively, and your brain stutters as you try to speak. The arousal that leaked from your core had become too much. Much to your dismay, it was too difficult to think in another language and you whined desperately. He lifts his hand high and hardly pauses before he brings it down for another series of sharp smacks to your ass. You make a fist around nothing, wincing as the skin starts to flush an erotic, rosy hue. With each one, your cunt aches, confused by the melange of pain and pleasure that coursed through your body.

“Count them for me.”

You do. Your weak and tiny voice counts the resounding strikes, feeling the heat spread across your skin like fire. “One… t-two… three… four… five - ah! Six!”

He interrupts you suddenly to ask: “You know my name, non?” 

The assumption spoke volumes. You nod against the table, relieved that the assault on your ass had stopped. 

“Use it.” 

Almost uncertain, you murmur his name. “V-Vincent… please fuck me, I want your cock so bad. I have since… since I started working for you. Please.” 

A guttural sound vibrated his throat. It made sense; everyone called him Marquis. Marquis de Gramont. Monsieur. But no one called him by his birth name, and that, had become erotic to him, hearing it tumble off your lips in a desperate, wanton tone. 

He was rotten, cruel and terrible, and in any other situation, your last words would’ve been a lie. But here, they weren’t and you knew it. Despite all your trepidation, you knew they rang true. His cockhead lines up to your entrance, prodding it hungrily, and he leans his hips into yours. With a quirk jerk, he forces himself inside, breaching your aching heat. He bottoms out, sinking in until the flesh of his torso is pressed against your ass. The feeling is all consuming, immediately, filling you to the brim. 

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, unable to vocalize the staggering sensations that rip through your body as he splits you open. He finds a bullying pace quickly, fucking you hard against the table. Your hips bump into the ornately trimmed edge, no doubt bruising them. After a few deep thrusts, he pauses, withdrawing his cock to the tip, only to slam it all the way back in with a deep, strained groan. 

“Fuck,” you whine, your cheek smashed against the table. “Fuck, please.” 

Vincent pays you no mind, your plea serving only as fuel to continue his assault on your sopping cunt. His hands grip your hips tight, pulling them back towards him with each thrust. The room is filled with the lewd melody of skin slapping against skin, fine china clattering against each other, and the mixture of his grunts, moans and your desperate, pathetic whines. You can’t help them, try as you might, because the vicious way in which he fucks into you rocks your whole body.  

“Dis-moi,” he grunts, his accent heavy with arousal. “...dis-moi comment ma bite se sent bien en toi.” (Tell me how good my cock feels inside you.) 

You understand his words, but you’ll be damned if you can formulate so much as a yes in French at this point. Your gaze grows hazy, lids heavy as his dick pounds into you. “It feels… it’s so fucking good, Vincent! Fuck! Harder. Harder!”

His hand comes crashing down on your ass again with a thwack! You cry out, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Don’t…” He breathes, struggling with his own words. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” 

Spoiled, you think. Spoiled brat. But, regardless of him not wanting to be told what to do, his hunger for your trumps his indignancy, because his hips buck into you with a newfound power, slamming his body against yours with abandon. The head of his cock bumps into your cervix over and over again, hammering it. You feel the coil in your stomach wind tighter around itself, a telltale pressure building deep within. Your walls clench around him warningly. 

As if he realizes that he’s just done exactly what you told him to – or perhaps he feels your cunt’s desperate tugging –  the Marquis pulls his cock from your wet slit with a shlick and roughly grips you at the shoulder, spinning you around. With no effort, he hoists you up into his arm, his cock bobbing below you. Your ass bumps against the table as he sits you down, dragging you to the edge of the table. He looks down at your cunt, already swollen and red, and brings his fingers to it, slipping them inside. He then brings them to his mouth, sucking your combined arousals from his fingers. You watch, enrapt. 

“Remember what you said to me earlier, about not being a whore?” 

You nodded, panting. 

“Do you still feel that way?” 

You hesitate, but ultimately, shake your head. You’re a slut for him, a slut for the way he fucks you, uses you. The concept alone is enough to make you come, but you don’t, eagerly waiting for his cock again. He exhales through his nose, smirking. “I didn’t think so.” 

With his hands bearing down on your hips, he sheaths himself inside of you again, burying himself. The new angle brings a strangled cry from your lips, echoing in the vastness of the room. It doesn’t take long for you to come back to the high of your orgasm, having been edged before. 

“Regarde-moi.” (Look at me.) 

You do. Your half-lidded gaze connects with his intense one, watching him. You reach up, allowing one hand to grip his shoulder, digging your nails into the fibers of his fine suit jacket, while the other lays atop the nape of his neck, feeling the damp, warm skin there. His fingers blindly find your thigh, slipping underneath it to pull it up to your chest, pulling your ankle atop one of his shoulders.

“Uhh fuck–!” he groans, shivering at the new depth he reaches. “Fuck!” 

All at once, his hips start bucking into you with a frenzied rage. You feel his muscles tighten against your thigh just before his cock jerks inside you, twitching as the first wave of his orgasm hits him. White, hot ropes of cum glaze your insides, coating you in pearlescence. The feeling draws you over the edge, and your cunt flutters around his dick, coating it in your own searing arousal. 

For a moment, he stays there, resting his sweaty forehead against your own. Your leg falls heavily back against the table, rattling the dishes next to you. The sound rouses him out of his post-coital stupor, and with a deep sigh, he slowly withdraws his softening cock from you, pulling a gush of his release out with it. You, completely fucked out, could do nothing but sit there, arms quivering as you hold yourself upright.

 He brought his fingers to your entrance, swiping up some of the excess cum dripping out of you, pushing it back inside your spasming cunt. "Hold this inside, ma petite. As a reminder.”

You shudder, feeling his finger enter your swollen cunt once more. You look down, watching as he makes sure not a drop is wasted. 

“Rien, huh?” you ask, with a biting tone.

“Oui, rien.” (Yes, nothing.)

[interstellarrisa]

Some subconscious fun

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You might've heard people saying that are our brain is amazing and capable of astounding things and well they're not wrong. Your brain is the most complex organ in the body with billions of neurons that have trillions of connections called synapses that makes it able to communicate, with this information how can we say that it's not amazing?

Our consciousness is thought to sit at the cerebral cortex and is said to have three levels to it. The conscious, subconscious and unconscious. They're all tasked with different things. I'll explain them all...

The conscious: This is the part that we have control over, our thoughts, feelings, decisions and acknowledgement are all made here. It's what you're using right now to read this post and also where the awareness of you reading this post is. Basically thoughts, feelings and awareness.

The subconscious: It's not in the current focus of our awareness hence called the subconscious mind. It's a barrier that's put up by our mind so that we don't become overwhelmed by all the information that we get when we interact with this world. For example our nose in the center of our vision, the feeling of our clothes or our tongue resting on the roof of our mouth. Because of this barrier we're allowed to focus our awareness on more important decision making and cognitive tasks without getting overwhelmed. This can be noticed when we decide (conscious) to pick up a new skill which can be hard to learn and do before we become a natural at it which then makes it an automatic (subconscious) skill.

The unconscious: It's perhaps the most mysterious form of consciousness since it's not available for introspection or analysis. We do know that it's a hoard of feelings, thoughts and memories lost from our conscious mind, it contains the painful past that we might simply want to forget about. Some people say that we never forget and that it just get's buried deep down within our mind and with the right signals we can recover the forgotten memories.

Now to the fun part. It's a small "experiment" that you can do every night just to see how amazing your subconscious mind truly is. Firstly I haven't found any article's stating that this is your subconscious minds doing, some say it might be your circadian rhythm (internal body clock) but I personally assume that it's your subconscious and if you know loa let's just go with it.

The experiment is you controlling when you wake up. You might go "really, that's it?" but when you first do it and it works it'll feel a bit 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, anyways here's what to do.

Go to bed. Doesn't need to be nighttime you just need to go to sleep for this.

While falling asleep tell yourself that you'll wake up in xxx hours/minutes. For example you go to bed at 00:00 and want to wake up in 8 hours, naturally that would be 08:00 so just affirm "I will wake up in 8 hours." or "I will wake up at 08:00"

Drift off to sleep~

Wake up and check the time and it should be the designated time.

This is actually a technique used a lot in lucid dreaming method's and could also be used in shifting/manifesting/void method's. Since the brain is just like a sponge when you wake up it absorbs any kind of information presented it with and sometimes induces "hallucinations". I'd recommend shorting the time you sleep if you're gonna use it as a method though. It's also pretty similar if not the same to SATS.

This has worked for me on multiple occasions and if you wake up and the time doesn't match when you wanted to wake up it might be because you already woke up earlier and just went back to sleep and forgot about it later, happened with me a few times but because of signals I remembered. I even got rid of my alarm for school because of this and I still woke up in time for school.

warning: if this post does NOT resonate with you or your beliefs feel free to ignore it, you don't need to send hate or make posts on how stupid this is or that it's wrong. some might misunderstand this post (like the last one) and make misguided comments, please think a little before you open your mouth :). yapping session is cause i'm really interested in this topic lol.

[msfantasy-comics]

Teen Three and Intruder Billy Batson

Platonic!Damian Wayne x WonderGirl!Reader x Platonic!Jon Kent x Platonic!Billy Batson

Summary: Damian and Jon can’t help but notice their best friend is distracted with the new commer. Shenanigans ensues.

Warning: No Romance here.

“And they posted ANOTHER Tik Tok! Can you believe that?!” Damian rants as Jon pours himself another bowl of cereal.

“Uh-huh.” He reply’s, hoping Damian will realise how ridiculous he sounds.

“I can’t believe this. It’s like we aren’t even friends anymore. Like she’s forgotten us and we are the background characters!” Damian continues making Jon roll his eyes in silence. “Did you just roll your eyes at me Kent?! This is serious! Look at her account, they already have 11 videos together, isn’t that just weird?!”

Jon mutters an agreeable hum now rinsing his bowl in the sink. “That’s cool Dames, thanks for calling me just to talk about Y/n and Billy for…” Jon taps his phone screen and sees the video call timer showing 56 minutes. “An hour…”

“Don’t call me Dames! And it’s been 56 minutes Kent. Perhaps summer school is in your future.” Jon groans at Damians semantics. “I’ll come pick you up, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Wait what?” Jon sputters as he rechecks the video call to see Damian sitting in a bat ship. “Dude, no, I have to help my mom with the farm.”

“TT, you should’ve told me that before I got in the batship! It’s too late, I’m coming over, picking you up and we are going to Y/n’s house to film Tik Toks to show that intruder who her real friends are.”

Opening the front door you see non-other the Damian standing with a glare and Jon standing sheepishly on your families front porch. “Dames, Jon? I wasn’t expecting to see you guys.” You announce surprised, waving them through to the lounge room where the intruder is found lounging, as if this was normal, as if he was here regularly.

“Batson.” Damian greets coldly, his nose turned up.

“Bat’s son.” Billy greets with a grinning smirk at Damian’s expression. “Jon! Good to see you man! It’s been so long!” Billy greets enthusiastically pulling Jon into a quick hug.

“Like wise.” He reply’s before pulling back and taking a seat next to Damian, avoiding his unspoken accusatory stare.

“Enough fratinising with the intruder!” Damian yells, making you scowl.

“The what? Damian-“

“No times for lectures!” Damian interrupts, “Whoever uploads the most Tik Toks with Y/n by end of the month, is crowned her true best friend!”

“Wha-“

“You’re on!” Billy agrees, fully bemused by Damian’s antics.

“This is stupid Dames.” Jon grumbles.

“What the hell Damian! You can’t just-“

“The winner will have an all expenses covered holiday of Y/n’s choosing paid by Wayne Enterprises.” Damian quickly adds making you shut your mouth instantly.

“… well best of luck guys.” You yield.

Diana really thought the end of September couldn’t come sooner.

Diana thought this whole scenario was harmless shenanigans. But considering it involved the Teen-Three, she really should’ve known better.

Diana was getting non-stop phone calls from the school and other parents with concerns and complaints at the inappropriate conduct, especially with Damian speeding dangerously through the parking lot in a super car to pick up her daughter to film Tik Toks and with Billy just randomly showing up in her daughters classes to film Tik Toks was really getting out of hand.

Diana resisted the urge to kill the kid’s fun at the request of her husband.

“Let the kids have their fun! When I was Y/n’s age, I was day drinking, smoking like a chimney and sleeping with…” Diana stares down her husband, daring him to finish his sentence. “… moral of the story, let the kids be.”

The winner turned out to be Jon, who came over last night and spent 1 minute recording a video, and proceeded to continuously reupload that video until mid-night.

Diana and her husband watched arguments and debates ensue whilst sipping their newly imported wine.

“These kids and their shenanigans, I swear.”