#straight women have entered the chat

[fairynisse]

Men are so woefully ignorant of the female gaze. You think this movie with hot actors all sweaty in itty bitty tank tops and driving fast cars is for you? No, it is for us.

[batemanofficial]

what is it about target that attracts the men with the fewest active neurons this side of the mississippi

[lovermake]

sitting in their lap ! ( ft jjk men + women )

synopsis : short cute headcannons that involve sitting in your partner’s lap and how they react to it. some are suggestive / nsfw, others are pure fluff !

content warnings : NSFW 18+ ( viewer discretion advised ), fingering, sitting in lap, grinding, dry humping + dry sex, wlw content ( men dni ), praise, slight degradation, possessive & soft sex <3

choso

it’s unexpected when you plop straight into his lap, when you ask if you could “sit here.” He did not realize he was an option, as you your back rested against him. But nonetheless he is happy with the choice you made and lets you make yourself at home. ( though if you spend too long sitting on his crotch, don’t be shocked when you start to feel something rubbing against your ass ! )

“mind if I join?” you greet entering the living room to choso scrolling on his phone as some news channel plays. he raises a brow confused as to why you asked because you would usually just plop besides him and gossip about your job. before he could even say or react to your question, you plop right onto his lap with your back to his chest, sighing loudly as you are finally comfortable.

you don’t have to turn your head to know that his face was turning to a soft pink, and he was fighting the urge to not gently place his hands on your waist. Choso is left defeated not knowing exactly what to say to your random gesture, so all he does is truly lay back and let you find comfort in his lap and chest.

it’s adorable when you fall asleep after a little while of chatting, for he gently rubs your back and plays with the strands of your hair as you sleep softly against him. he mumbles how cute you are, before eventually drifting off into a sleep of his own.

nanami

it’s grown a regular routine for you to sit in your husband’s lap usually when he is eating the food you have made for him after a long day of work. he never makes any advances, or at the very least tries not to, for he doesn’t want to ruin the intimate moment with devious urges. despite how much he wants to take you over the kitchen counter. but it seems tonight you seem to want him to.

you’re wearing a short apron with not much underneath other than a cute pink pair of panties with a bow, and of course Nanami notices your advances, given that you aren’t much of a chatterbox as always and rather tend to rub yourself against him on his crotch. and while the steak you have cooked and seared for the night was delicious, he was much more interested in devouring something else.

but what was dessert without finishing dinner ?

he does his best to not react to your advances as an attempt to at least finish the meal you have prepared, but you’re really dedicated to get what you want, straddling him and gently pressing your hands against his chest. and with a simple gesture of loosening his tie, he is quick to have you laid upon the dining table, apron pushed up, panties pulled down.

you tried to play it off by reminding Kento of his food, but that could always wait for later. “I’m sorry my love, I don’t have much patience and it seems neither do you.” he presses a kiss to your temple before his lips drag themselves from your cheek, to your neck, to your waist, and to your clit.

though nanami promises to finish his food later, he never does, for you became his priority for the rest of the night.

maki

your favorite thing to do with your girlfriend was surprise her out of the blue, especially by randomly scaring her with a hug, gently biting her cheek, sometimes smacking her ass and playing a game of tag, or plopping yourself in her lap. which is what you decided to do today. she had just finished washing her hair and was taking a moment to relax on the bed when you decide to plop onto her lap. her initial reaction was to scold you and tell you, you should be studying, but she decides to take advantage of your impulsive gesture.

“oh MY god, stop !!” you scream, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, laughter falling from your lips as she tickled your waist and stomach. your kicking your feet, but it doesn’t keep her from tickling you, as your throwing your head back and attempt to push away her hands.

she can only giggle along, satisfied with how ticklish you were. “this is why you should be studying,” she playfully scolds and you can’t help but laugh even harder. at this point she would be knocking the breath out of you. “this is what you get!”

after so long she finally frees you of her mercy and you hop of the bed to go study as she mentioned. she smacks your ass as you leave the room, “and make sure to practice your domain.”

you only stick your tongue out as you leave, earning another chuckle from your sweet girl.

geto

he had asked you to help him dry his hair, given its length. and usually you’d stand behind him as he sat down and rambled about his villainous activities, but today you decided to try a new angle and decide to sit in his lap and dry his hair. the gesture surprises him, but he adores it, keeping a hand on your waist as you dried his hair.

“oh!” he mumbles softly, as he watches you straddle his lap. you’re body is facing his and it’s very close eye contact as you begin to dry his hair with a towel. at first he is looking you up and down as you begin to dry the damp strands. “you’ll be able to get the lower ends of my hair?”

you giggle. “I’ll be able to, don’t worry! continue you on about your day.”

he’s a bit reluctant, for he hated having his hair wet, but he loved having you on his lap like this so he continued on with his rambling, thought he could barely focus again. you were wearing a black tank top and fuzzy shorts, so the sight did his lead his mind to wander. but nonetheless he needed his hair dry so he kept his urges to himself.

nobara

you both take turns sitting in each others lap but you tend to do it the most. and every time you do, it’s always a soft intimate moment you share with your fiancé for she adores combing through your curls. her favorite thing to do as you sit in her lap is either braid or try new styles with your hair since it’s much longer and more different than hers.

“ow!” you whine, squinting your eyes as your girlfriend brushes through your hair. “be careful!”

she whispers a sorry and kisses your cheek. you grow more relaxed in her lap and she continues brushing your hair to a perfect slicked back bun, keeping a couple of curls to bounce out in the front.

“how do you like it, [ your name ] ?” nobara asks, holding a mirror up for you. she has given you a side part, slicked back with two curls on each side of your ears and a beautiful curly bun in the back. you’re so quick to turn back and give him a big kiss and thank her for her work, which she softly blushes for in her ears.

toji

He’s initially pissed when you sit on his lap, rather than taking a seat on his couch (a couch he thrifted for $3 and a wing) but when your rub his ass on his crotch, all that anger immediately rushes to pleasure, hands strapping to your waist. Suddenly his pants have been pushed down, your panties ripped (per usual).

“fuck,” you whimpered, your hands on his thighs, as you bounced on his cock. his eyes constantly going up, and down, up and down. it was a shame you weren’t facing him because he would have adored, seeing your titties bounce in his face to. but the two of you had time after this, so he wasn’t all that concerned. “making me do all the work?”

toji leans back and laughs at your question. “making you work too hard princess?” you aren’t given much time to answer because he wraps his hands around your waist and by keeping you still he begins to thrust deep inside of you, watching you hiccup and whimper in pleasure. his name leaving your mouth all too many times.

at some point you couldn’t even moan words, everything falling from your lips was incoherent and before you knew it you were screaming in pleasure as his seed pumped deep inside of you. your legs shaking and your chest going up and down.

“fucking shit, toji.” you whimpered and he only chuckles, signaling to you that this would only be the beginning.

gojo

in all honesty he’s been waiting patiently until you would hop onto his lap. because it gives him the advantage to tease you and crawl his hands under your shirt with his cold hands. but of course his teasing is never just an innocent tease.

“gojo!” you squeak. you had decided to plop into your boyfriend’s lap unexpectedly, and he then decided to unexpectedly slip his hands under your shirt with his icy cold hands. he can only throw his head back and laugh. “your hands are cold!”

“I heard being cold makes sex all the more exciting” he lies through his teeth, and you can only turn your head with a glare. he lies but somewhere in his heart he does believe that’s true. the type of boyfriend you have is the type to click on exaggerated ads and then wonder why his computer been hacked again.

his thumbs gently flick over your nipples in surprise and you can’t help but moan this time at the feeling. there’s a devious snicker that escapes his throat and you glare again. “see I told you that was true!”

© lovermake’s works 2024. Do not use my writing for language translation, re-editing, plagiarism, heavy inspiration, posting through other social media apps, or stealing.

[leah-lover]

A person more than an athlete. Nika mühl x reader

Love always had a way of consuming you. Whether it was your friendships, relationships with your parents, your friends, or even your romantic relationships, you felt the love in every part of your body. You loved deeply and wholeheartedly.

You were also a dedicated person. You gave your career all you had which in turn got you a championship in your freshman year.

Women's sports were trending, and you were on top of the pyramid. From sponsorship deals, to ads, interviews, and magazine shoots, you were everywhere. The spotlight didn't mean much to you though. All you cared about was the sleeping body next to you.

Nika was to you the prettiest girl in the world. For her you would absolutely do anything.

“ Good morning.” You whisper into her ear before you kiss her shoulder. “ Morning.” she responds, shifting to lay on her back.

You two start kissing. The kisses were short and sweet which left you needing much more. “ Baby I am gonna be late for class.” She says after pulling out.

“ But…” you start to protest before she cuts you off. “ Babe I still have to go all the way to my room, get ready and go to class. We will finish this later okay?” She says before getting out of bed. You sigh loudly as she wears her shirt and gets her stuff. “ I love you “ you say although what you say isn't clear because your face is hidden by a pillow. “ I love you too. I will see you in practice.” she says before she leaves.

The rest of the day went as usual. You got ready for class, which you attended. You then changed into your huskies' track suit and went to the gym.

You started out training all right. You did your activation, some shooting drills, lifted some weights and got some cardio done.

You didn't talk nika during all of this because coach geno sat you all down in the first session of the year and said. “ You all are UConn players now, you have a big legacy to follow. You need to focus, work hard and train hard, and while you are part of this team relationships with your teammates are absolutely forbidden.” However, you couldn't help but fall in love with the Croatian international, she captured your heart more than basketball everdid.

You thought something was up when the coach asked nika to go to his office for a chat but you didn't give it much thought instead you hung out with Paige and Kk. You didn't see nika leave because you were too busy learning a new dance with Paige.

“ Hey, can you give me a minute?” said the coach to you.

You then enter his office with an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

“What's up coach? “ you say as you dit opposite his desk.

“ Look, I am gonna be as straight with you as I was with nika. You heard what I said the very first time you came to this gym. And you know what is gonna happen now.”

“ Coach with all do respect you can't do this. We are good assets to this team and we have been performing well. We won a whole championship last year while being together.”

“ I'm afraid it is not up for questioning. You will terminate this relationship. You agreed to this when you first signed the contract with us. The contract stated that inter team relationships are forbidden. Plus Nina already agreed to it.”

You didn't know how you got out of that office or how you walked across campus to your dorm. All you knew was that Nika and you were done.

You opened your door, got in and sat on the floor as soon as you closed it. You started to uncontrollably sob. That's when you feel familiar hands wrap around you. Her smell and her touch were comforting.

“ I love you so much.” she whispered in your ear. You could feel her tears on your cheeks.

“ he said you agreed to the bullshit he said.” you say wiping your tears.

“ I couldn't not agree. If he cuts me from the team I am done. I have to go back home and all of this will be for nothing.”

“ We can keep it a secret again. I don't want to live without you.”

“ Baby, if he catches us again we can't come back from it. I love you so much baby but I can't.”

You kiss each other multiple times while holding one another on the floor of your dorm. Nika then leaves and you stay on the floor heartbroken for a long time.

You flipped a switch as soon as she left the door knowing that you aren't gonna wake up next to her, sleep next to her, kiss her, or be inside her.

The next day at training was miserable to say the least. You didn't sleep the night before, you didn't smile, or talk to anybody. Your performance displayed your sadness. You were missing easy shots, and you clearly weren't focused. You didnt talk to nika or look at her. You started like that for 2 weeks you didnt talk to anybody, all you thought about was how much you modded her touch.

“ baby please don't do this.” said nika to you one the way to practice. “ We need to talk.” she says before she pulled you into the medic’s room.

As soon as she closed the door, she pinned you to the wall and started kissing you. You missed the taste of her lips, the weight of her hands on your waist, the way her hands rubbed you sides and her tongue swiped across your.

“ i missed you so fucking much.” she says after pulling out.

“ I am not whole without you. I can't do anything without you. I missed you so much.” you say before kissing her again. You were hungry for her, you needed her more than anything in the world.

“ I don't like this without you. Would you please come back to me?.” she asks while swiping her thumb on your cheek.

“ if it cost me my life to be with you again.” you respond.

'I love you baby.’ she adds.

“ I love you more than you will ever know.” you respond.

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / part 7

previous part

tw: NSFW, MDNI, don't wanna spoil but just be aware!

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Good things don’t last. And both you and Simon were about to have a cruel reminder.

Simon stuck around after the two of you had shared the intimacy of a kiss. He didn’t let it go farther than just that, and neither did you. In fact, the rest of his time spent cooped up in your apartment was rather quiet and calming, despite the events that had taken place.

There was still fresh blood on his hands. He had let Ghost take over his senses and consume him in a blind rage, only to return to you as Simon, rage simmering into a flutter of calm. 

Simon felt like he was lying to you. And truthfully, part of him was. You didn’t know about the realness of his job or what he did. You didn’t see the knives he embedded in unexpecting men and women, or the droplets of powdered poison slipped into their glasses at parties. You were blissfully unaware of the true nature of his being.

Simon couldn’t exist without Ghost, but Ghost could certainly thrive without Simon.

Ghost could also live without you. No – he’d have to live without you, at some point. Simon just didn’t want to.

He was being selfish and he knew it. He was taking advantage of a woman who had no business being involved with him, yet his heart was unable to let you go and finish the job, the job he’s always been destined to do until death did he part.

Simon had been lying to you, and now, all of it was crumbling down on him.

Price’s text stared back at him from the brightness of his phone screen. It was like staring into the eyes of death, causing his chest to fill with a sickening tightness that made it hard to breathe.

“We need to talk. You know where to meet me.”

So he left you. He made sure you were fast asleep in the comfort of your bed, sheets pulled up to your ears, and he selfishly allowed himself a minute to stare down at your snoozing figure. So peaceful, you were, eyes fluttered shut, eyelashes fanning beautifully across the tops of your cheeks. Your mouth was parted with puffs of air exhaling from your lips, ones he had pressed kiss after kiss against the night before.

Selfish.

The streets were busy as he walked, yet the impending doom that hung over him like a storm cloud muted the sounds and circled him in a bubble. He didn’t hear the chatter of people passing by, nor the cars that revved and honked from the roads beside him.

It was a cruel silence as he went, like his mind was shutting down all aspects of life in a cruel reminder of the ones he’d taken away.

Price resided in a remote apartment complex, one that showed just how much he worked for what he did. Killing people, just like him, but taking on a role on the side of watching over him as well as Gaz and Soap. Brothers they were, all of them, and now Simon feared he was fucking up the dynamic by being greedy.

“Ghost,” Price greeted as he opened the door. Simon gave him a curt nod and entered the residence, following behind Price.

The man in question was silent when he made way to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea. He offered Simon none in return, and Simon knew it was his subtle way of showing disappointment.

“Let’s chat,” Price mused, gesturing with a hand for Simon to join him in the living room.

Simon sat with his fists on his knees, back straight as a board, as Price sat in front of him in a much more relaxed state, leaning back and resting an ankle on his knee. He sipped at the tea, eyes boring into Simon’s.

“You fucked up, Simon.” Straight and blunt, cutting right to the chase. It stuck into Simon like a bee sting. “Killin�� a man outside of a job. Killin’ him of your own free will.”

Graves. The memory of his body, stabbed ruthlessly in his kitchen, his blood puddling the floor in a red mess, staining Simon’s skin an ugly crimson that he spent lifetimes scrubbing off. Mutilated, mangled, completely unrecognizable, all from Ghost’s doing.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?” Price roared, displaying the layered frustration he had kept abay up until now. “This is your job, Simon, our job. You kill to get paid, not kill for your own pleasure.”

“I know.”

“You know, and still did it.”

“I fucked up.”

“Damn right you fucked up, Simon,” Price sneered. He stared at Simon with a look of anger, before it simmered down to one of muted frustration, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. He pressed his fingers to his eyes, squeezing them shut, before dropping his hand back down. “You need to let her go.”

“Who?” Simon asked, and Price scoffed.

“Don’t be coy. Gaz told me everythin’. Had Soap follow you around when you killed that Graves guy, saw you go back to your little bird’s place. You know who I’m talkin’ about.”

Fuck.

He’d been sloppy, all because of you. Simon never, in all his time of being a hitman, missed the feeling of watching eyes following him around. He never missed the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the feeling of something or someone watching, observing, never missed the shiver running down his spine in a cold chill.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ game, Simon–”

“I know–”

“--yet you’re playin’ it like it is. This is a civilian’s life we’re talkin’ about, and not only did you kill Graves without payment, but you haven’t clipped your damn bird of her wings like she wants.”

Every single word was a harsh slap to the face, and Simon hated to admit that Price was right. He had rejected the job offer you’d given him from the very beginning. You wanted to die, you wanted to seek safe haven, yet he took that away from you. He wanted to save you, wanted to show you that life had meaning in its own ways, yet where were his reasons to stay?

Simon was a fucking hypocrite. Both to you, and himself.

“You know what you have to do, Simon.”

Simon stared at Price with eyes narrowed in confusion. He studied the firm lines that littered Price’s face, the way his mouth tugged into a frown, nearly covered by his facial hair. The tea he nursed was now growing cold in the presence of his lap, one hand curled around the handle with a white-knuckled grip.

“You can’t possibly ask me to do that,” Simon scoffed.

“I am, and I will. You either let her go and forget she exists, or you kill her off like you were intended to do in the first place. If you can’t handle it, then I’ll have Soap do it. Your choice.”

Price was giving Simon an option, though really, it wasn’t a choice at all. Either way, Simon would lose you, and he’d be forced to toss you aside like worthless garbage, or be forced to see the life drain from your eyes.

He fucked up, big time. He shouldn’t have brought this upon you. How selfish could he be?

Ghost was the person he was destined to be. Ghost was who he truly was. Up until he met you, he was content with that. He was the best of the best, and performed his job like it was a mundane task. Simple. Easy.

You slowed him down. You broke down the walls he’d so carefully built, brick by brick, all because you were a direct clone of who he used to be before he tread down this path of sinful bloodshed. He was an idiot to think he could have you without suffering the repercussions.

You didn’t deserve that, nor did you deserve a man like him – so broken and bruised, his heart too shattered to glue back together, not even by the tenderness of your own hands.

Maybe death really was the best ending for you. But Simon was a greedy bastard and couldn’t allow a world to spin without a piece of you occupying it.

“I’ll let her go,” he finally agreed. His tongue felt as if it were sharp as knives, slicing the gums of his mouth open with every word. Metallic saliva coated his tongue, filling his mouth with vials of blood. “I’ll cut off contact. Erase her number, forget she existed, so long as you don’t lay a hand on her.”

Price stared at him with an unreadable look. It was like he was pondering, examining, trying to crawl his way into Simon’s little mind and take a gander on what he was thinking. It was intrusive, invasive, and Simon looked away.

“She knows too much,” Price replied, tone much softer and sympathetic than before. “None of us want to hurt her, and her bein’ involved will only risk her safety. I’m happy you found somebody, Simon, I am. But you knew what you were gettin’ into. We can’t fraternize with the innocent, or else somebody else will just end up killin’ her instead of us.”

Simon scowled beneath his mask, crossing his arms over his chest in a defense mechanism. He didn’t want to admit that once again, Price was right, and Simon would’ve been the asshole that would’ve eventually gotten you killed or hurt.

Good things weren’t meant for people like him. You weren’t meant for people like him.

You were a flower in a blooming field of color, while he was the parasite that ate away at your soft petals.

Simon left Price’s with a sour taste in his mouth. It was bile rising in his throat and threatening to combust. It tainted his tongue with sickening acid, and no matter how much he tried to swallow it down, it grew stronger.

He lost track of how long he’d stared down at the messages on his phone, all from you.

“Hey, Si! Where’d you go?”

“Tell me when you have to leave for a job next time, dummy.”

“I’ll pick up some food for you later when you come by!”

Every message was a slice in the arteries of his heart. It filled him with aching pain, one nothing could ever smooth over. You were the bandages that held him together, and what was he? The bastard who took advantage.

He couldn’t let it end like this. He couldn’t click the block button on your contact, he couldn’t walk away like he should. Not without seeing you one more time – because that’s all he was. Selfish, selfish, selfish, a word that echoed in his mind on repeat like an irritating buzz.

Simon’s legs moved on their own accord, already mapping out the path towards your apartment. He knew you’d be home, he knew you were waiting for him to return like normal for his nightly endeavors in your presence.

He moved in earnest, strides long and swift, passing by people on the street without a second thought. He kept his eyes trained forward, not letting a single distraction stop him from seeing you.

Just one goodbye. That’s all he needed.

Making it to the front of your door, he found himself slamming his fist along it, the booming knock filling the hallway. He never knocked, it wasn’t his thing, yet here he was, mind so cloudy that it was the first thing he thought to do.

When the door opened and he saw your ruffled expression, he released a sharp exhale, one he thinks he’d been holding the entire run here. His chest visibly relaxed, shoulders slouching, hand dropping to his side once the door was tugged away from his knocking.

“Simon?” you asked, lifting a hand up to grab hold of his shoulder in attempts to keep him steady while he caught his breath. “You– are you okay?”

“I–” he sputtered, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Simon stared at you before pushing his way into your apartment, slamming the door behind him and locking it up tight.

Millions of thoughts raced around his head, and all of them revolved around you. Not a single thought went unnoticed by your being, and they fluttered around anxiously, like butterflies rapidly flapping their wings and crossing over one another.

“Simon,” you called out again, and he snapped his head to look over at you. Your face was filled with concern, eyebrows pulled together, lips pressed in a thin line. His eyes shifted down, watching the way you frowned. Even when you were taut up tight, you still made him feel dizzy at the sight of you.

Simon’s body moved on its own accord. It was like he lost complete control, instincts taking over.

He tugged off his mask in a frenzy, letting it fall to the floor, before he surged towards you and took your lips in his. The kiss was feverish, desperate. It had your body jolting backwards at the sheer force of it, but when you regained your composure, you quickly fell into his kiss like a helpless puddle of goo.

Limbs entangled with one another, his arms bracketing around your waist and holding you as if letting go would cause you to disappear forever. Your chest was pressed flush against him, leaving you no room to wiggle out, but you melted into him with ease, uncaring of the sudden display of need.

It was dizzying, staggering. It left your mind a fumbled mess.

“Si–” you attempted to croak, word getting cut off as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetheart,” he breathed, nuzzling his face into the span of your jaw, lips brushing faintly against the skin. “I just need you. Please.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, hand coming up to tangle in the short locks of hair on his head. They were soft against your palm, and you smoothed them down.

“How–?”

“All of you. Please, sweetheart, just– you trust me, right?”

Selfish.

“Of course,” you mused. You felt him smile against your neck.

“Then please.”

“...Okay, Simon,” you whispered, because how could you deny the very man who did nothing but care for you to his best ability? Who saved you when nobody else was there to pick up the pieces and mend you together with the craftiness of their hands? “Okay.”

Simon breathed a heavy sigh of relief before pressing needy kisses along the expanse of your throat. Your head lolled to the side to allow him more access, mouth parting to release quiet gasps of surprise.

Every movement of his was unlike anything he’d done. He was always so calculated, so accurate and careful, yet this time, he was sloppy and unsystematic. It was as if he were only allowing his mind to take over, rather than logistics and realism.

The two of you moved in a clumsy dance, with him guiding you back towards the space of your bedroom with his arms unwavering around you and his lips continuing a messy attack on your neck. When you somehow made it past the door frame and into the comforting safe haven of your bedroom, his hands slipped down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head in a hurry.

“Is everything okay, Simon?” you asked worriedly, and he smiled at you, a tinge of sadness lingering at the back of his pupils.

“Just want to spend time with my pretty girl. Can I do that, sweetheart?”

You blinked at him when his hands came to a standstill against your hips, thumbs lightly brushing over the supple skin. His expression was so soft, one he only reserved for you and nobody else. The lines along his face were smoothened into a tender look, and you couldn’t help but admire it with a smile.

“You always can,” you assured, missing the way Simon winced.

Simon rushed forward once again, and your mouths met in an uncoordinated mess of teeth and tongue. It was hot and heavy, demanding and eager, and it showed in the way he lightly pushed you back to rest on your bed.

One of his hands pressed into the mattress next to your head while the other glossed over your side, cold fingertips causing goosebumps to rise. You shuddered, resting your own hands on each side of his jaw, tangling yourself and getting thrown into his web of affection.

“Wanna touch you,” he rasped, fingers sliding down to the hem of the pajama shorts you had yet to change out of, toying with it but not daring to pry until your say so. “Please.”

You sucked in a breath before promptly nodding, and that was all he needed to slip his fingers past the waistband, dipping his fingers into the warmth of your cunt. He was greeted with sweet wetness, and he let out a quiet groan into the curve of your neck, pressing a messy kiss there.

The pads of his fingers scooped up a bit of your slick like candied nectar, before rolling it around your clit, causing your legs to jolt in surprise. Air filled your lungs, burning at the expanding of your chest, before being released in a blissful form of a sigh, eyes fluttering up at him.

“M’gonna take care of you, sweetheart, I promise,” he murmured against your neck.

Simon’s fingers continued to toy at your clit with a feverish motion, circling at a messy pace. It wasn’t steady, but it didn’t matter – it felt good, and it brought butterflies to swarm in your stomach, blooming at the newfound feeling.

He was so gentle in the way he treated you, yet balanced it out with subtle desperation that had your toes curling as he worked wonders against your cunt. He’d circle your clit, before dipping down to tease at the wetness that sopped out of your hole, just to slide back up to continue the torturous prodding against your sensitive nub.

“Fuck, Simon,” you breathed, voice cracking.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his voice laced with sultry sweetness to it. “That okay, pretty girl? Wanna ruin you, fuck.”

“Please,” you pleaded, and the shakiness in your tone had him kissing you once before sliding his lips down. His fingers slipped out of your shorts, and before you could protest, they tugged down the fabric, soft against your legs, before he dropped them on the floor.

His hands gently spread your legs, and without a single hint of warning, you felt the warmth of his tongue press flat against your clit while his finger eased inside of you. Stars burst behind your eyes and you let out a strangled noise, hand frantically grasping on to his hair and gripping.

It was like the heavens were opening in the clouds above, shining warm rays of light all over you and heating you up from the inside. It was a delicious feeling, the way he sucked and slobbered all over your cunt like a man on a mission, his finger fucking inside of you with earnest.

Messy sounds filled the room combined with your pitiful whimpers and gasps of his name, and they only egged him on further.

If this was the last time he’d ever see you, he’d make it count. Your pleasure was his, and nothing else mattered.

One finger quickly became two, and he created a rhythm between fucking you with his fingers and swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. The stimulation had you keening, already teetering on the edge of insanity. Your mind was blank and void of anything but moans of Simon’s name.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he breathed into your cunt, making you whine. “Come on. Cum on my fingers, know you can.”

His voice sent vibrations straight through your body, and your back arched with a wail, thighs clamping around his head in a death grip. They shook with the aftershocks of your climax, but that didn’t stop him from swallowing down every bit of you until it became too much.

He only released you when your fingers tugged on his hair, and when he sat back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Simon smiled at you, eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas, pouring over with nothing short of admiration and awe.

You laid on the bed, breathless and sated, a sheen of sweat covering the expanse of your skin. It glimmered in the dim light of your room, and he pressed delicate kisses along the salty sweetness, making his way up your body.

“So good, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

You could nothing but nod dumbly, eyes half lidded as you watched him reach down between your two bodies to fiddle with the buckle of his pants. It clanged together, filling the air with glimpses of what was to come next, and when he got it undone, he wasted no time in tugging them down until he was bare from the waist down.

The sight was beautiful. His cock was hot and heavy between his legs, a slight shine over the flushed tip from precum, and you felt your mouth begin to water.

This was Simon in all of his glory, and only you had been the lucky one to see it. What an honor.

“So pretty,” Simon breathed, causing your gaze to snap up from his cock and to his face. His mouth was parted as his large hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it lazily while he looked at you. His breath fanned over your mouth from the close proximity. “So beautiful. You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Your mind turned to mush at his words. You squirmed against the bed sheets, shyly looking away from him. His free hand came up to gently grasp your jaw, drawing you back to look at him, and his smile knocked the wind out of you.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he repeated, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

The feeling of the head of his cock lining up with your entrance had you gasping into his mouth, and he smiled against you, eyes unwavering from yours as he stretched you open.

It was an ecstatic feeling, one that filled you to the brim with elation. It burned inside of you with flickering flames of want.

He continued to push, and push, until he was flush with you, fully seated inside of your warm, slippery heat. There was a scratch that only Simon could itch, and he knew this. It was why when he began to move inside of you, he started off slow before burrowing into a needy pace filled with smothering desire.

Simon rested his forearms on each side of your head, hovering over you while his hips snapped into you, greedily taking everything you had to offer. It sent you into a puddled mess, mouth hung open as throaty moans escaped every time he took more and more. Your fingernails dug into his biceps, grounding yourself as much as you could with the way your body jolted back and forth from the force of him fucking you.

Fucking? Is that what it was? It felt much more meaningful than that. Simon kissed you with sentiment, thrust into you with aching longingness, praised you like a goddess in the sky and you were his saint.

His groans and grunts filled your ears like lovely symphonies, each note sending goosebumps to rise along your arms and neck. It was a beautiful song, filling you with the wonders of emotions. You couldn’t get enough.

“My pretty girl,” he sighed. His own words seem to turn him on further, as his pace increased, becoming an aggressive slap of skin with every thrust. His cock dragged mercifully along the walls of your cunt, his leaking tip hitting the spongy spot and causing your body to go lax as you took and took. “What are you doin’ t’me?”

“Simon,” you whimpered, and he chuckled out a breathy laugh. With his forearms still resided on the sides of your head, his fingers interlocked on the top of your head, holding you firm against him and keeping you in place.

“So fuckin’ good t’me. Don’t deserve you.”

You clamped around him, causing him to groan. His pace was becoming messy and sloppy, but no less relenting.

“I’ll make sure you’re cared for. Won’t ever have to worry ‘bout anythin’ with me around,” he whispered, and you weren’t fully processing the words. To you, it was mindless babble that you simply took in through the hazy state of your mind, nodding eagerly at every empty promise.

The two of you were growing restless, your bodies building a molten core of unleashed pleasure that threatened to erupt at any given moment. It was hot and scalding, burning the pit of your stomach.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” he asked, almost mockingly. You cried, fingernails digging into his biceps so harshly, the skin nearly broke with pebbled drops of blood. “Yeah? Go ahead, I’ve got you.”

Your own body was betraying you, and you succumbed to the burst of bliss, chest pressing up against his, needy cries singing from your lips. Your eyes spotted with hints of black, the stimulation becoming overbearing.

Simon didn’t allow himself his own pleasure until you had yours, so when he felt you clench around him in a vice, he let himself go, spilling into you and flooding you with milky warmth. It coated your insides like a beautiful painting, filling you with douses of his undying affection.

He slumped on to you, face buried in the crook of your neck. The two of you laid there in comforting silence, catching your breaths and processing the new intimacy formed between you.

While you were riding on a cloud of euphoria, Simon was being dragged into the deepest pits of hell.

Selfish.

What a horrible person he was. All he had to do was let you go, but he did even worse than he had done before.

This was worse than killing men and women. This was worse than killing Graves out of rage.

He was going to leave you behind, make you feel like you meant nothing more than a calculated fuck, and he was going to burn in hell for it. All because he fell in love with you, all because he couldn’t kill you.

When Simon helped clean you up and buried you in your blankets, he waited until you were asleep, sedated and happy. Your frown lines were smoothed over with a look of peace and ecstasy, and he traced along the flush of your skin until he knew it was time.

He carefully made his way out of the comfort of your bed, movements slow as not to disturb you. He gathered his clothes, sifting them on with a hint of resentment for his own actions, and he left.

Just like that, he left.

Simon blocked your number without so much as a goodbye text, or an explanation, telling you that you did nothing wrong. He didn’t tell you that he was the issue, that he was the one in the wrong. Didn’t tell you he fell in love with you, and now he was facing the consequences for it.

He typed out one final message to Price, hoping to satisfy the bastard for what he forced him to do.

“It’s done.”

[animasola86]

SMUT DRABBLES*: Tension Relief

A/N: The longest *drabble yet, but still short enough. Just a little smut scene I had to get out of my head. Like always, you can imagine any character here, it's just a man and a woman, no descriptions whatsoever (pics are just to set the mood). Today we'll have a mixture of semi-public and free use, a handjob, fingering and unprotected sex in a public restroom. This works wherever shopping in crowded areas is a thing.

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 1.6k // AO3

He's tense. She can tell by how hard he squeezes her hand as they walk through the crowds around them. Chatter, laughter, crying children, screaming parents alongside different music blasting from different directions, merging into something you can only describe as noise, a typical soundscape on a busy day like this. Maybe shopping has not been the best idea she's had this morning. He's still agreed to come with her.

Under one condition. “When I need you, I'll take you,” he's said with a dark glint in his eyes, and she's nodded, with her stomach twisting in anticipation, that feeling of fear of humiliation, and suspense and excitement of the unknown. He's always rather unpredictable, even in their own home.

And she can't even imagine what he's capable of in public if given the chance to do anything to her. But luckily for her, he's willing to demonstrate.

It's a tug to her wrist, a demanding gesture, as he drags her through the crowds, past overwhelmed parents trying to calm their tense children, past a couple of elderly women looking around in confusion in search of their next destination. He knows exactly where to go, doesn't even look around while she steals nervous glances back over her shoulder as he heads straight for the women's restroom.

The door closes behind her, and he's on her in no time, hands cupping her face, eager lips closing around hers, his warm tongue forcing between them, and she can only grab his wrists for support as he pushes her backwards into an open stall. Her back hits the side wall with a thud at the same time as he slams the door shut with his shoe, causing her to gasp, but he only kisses her harder, one hand moving down to her throat, while the other moves down between them.

There's the clink of his belt, the plop of the button, scratch of the zipper, shifting of fabric, before he grabs her hand and puts it around his hard cock. No wonder he's been so tense. He's swollen, veins bulging against her palm, precum leaking from his tip. She pumps him slowly, and he growls into her mouth, squeezing her throat, urging her on. Her other hand finds his girth, and she strokes him in twisting motions, moving his hot skin over his hardened core, up and down, fist around his tip, fingers massaging his tight balls.

His hand slips under her dress, hot and heavy and urgent, finds the hem of her panties, pushes it aside, his fingers swiping through her folds. She's not nearly as ready as he is, but he doesn't care. Gives her clit a few pinches, rubs through her slit until he's content with the slick gathering between her thighs. She's breathing hard against his lips as he leans back a little, forehead pressed to hers, eyes dark, pupils dilated in hunger.

She squeaks quietly when he pushes a finger into her heat, deep and rough, working his way into her, then adds another, stretches her more. She's grateful for the preparation, no matter how little it is. There's the unmistakable noise of wetness squelching between fingers, and she shivers, her legs trembling.

Up until now she's been too preoccupied with stroking his cock and kissing him, pinned to the wall, save against his body, but then the door to the restroom opens, and a couple of chatting women enters, quickly moving into the stalls left and right of them.

While she freezes in her movements, eyes wide before they move towards the little gap between the door and wall of the stall they're in, hoping he's at least locked it, he keeps fingering her, almost as if he wants those other people to hear how wet she is, how wet he makes her. The hand on her throat pushes up to lift her chin, and she looks at him, holding her breath, while he smirks at her, eyes darker than usual.

He coaxes a little gasp out of her when he dips his fingers as deep as his knuckles allow, making her thighs twitch as he curls them inside her, scraping over that sensitive spot. She presses her lips into a thin line, panting through her nose. The women beside them flush at almost the same time, and he uses the noise (and she's thankful he does) to let go of her, then grab her hips instead and whirl her around until she has to brace herself on the toilet seat, bent forwards, while he flips the skirt of her dress up and pushes her panties down her legs.

Meaningless chatter fills the small room as the women wash their hands, and as they do, he steps closer and guides his hard cock towards her entrance. She bites her lip, forcing herself to remain quiet, but when he pushes in with one swift roll of his hips, a croaking squeak escapes her, and to her utter horror, the women pause mid-conversation. He's quick to move and leans over her to put his fingers between her lips to silence her, his palm cupping her chin to hold her in place.

She tastes herself as he pushes his rough fingertips onto her tongue while simultaneously pushing his length deeper into her tight warmth. Her body shudders under the stimulation, her arms shaking badly beneath her, fingers curling around the lid of the seat. She barely notices the women finally leaving, but once the door falls shut behind them, he really starts to move – and that, she notices.

The hand on her mouth pulls her back against him, spine arched as he presses her shoulder into his chest, fingers slipping deeper, teasing at the back of her throat, while his other hand is flat on her stomach, holding her against him, as he snaps his hips into her with reckless abandon. No easing into it, no gentle rolls, just rapid pounding, needy rutting, impaling her, filling her, using her.

She grabs his wrist, trying to hold onto him as her legs become weaker and weaker, his relentless assault quickly overwhelming her as pleasure mixes with pain and swirls inside her head like a strange kind of vertigo. In and out he goes, body slamming into hers, strong thighs bracing behind her, her hands clawing at him desperately. She moans against his fingers, and he pushes them deeper until she has to gag around them, spit filling her mouth, body convulsing uncontrollably, cunt clenching around his thick cock, and he groans in her ear, folding them over until she has to brace herself on the toilet seat again.

He lets go of her mouth, strands of saliva trailing from her lips to his fingers before they snap when he puts his hands on her hips, digits digging into soft flesh, and keeps rutting into her like a feral dog. Her arms give way, and she sinks lower, leaning on her forearms on the lid, teeth gritted before she bites down onto her wrist to keep her noises down. Knees shaking, legs spread as wide as her panties around her ankles allow, as he slams into her over and over again.

She's succumbing to the sensations, but she still hears the quiet noise of other people entering the restroom. Somehow she couldn't care less, and he doesn't seem to either as he keeps pounding into her, skin slapping against skin, her wetness squelching out of her with every deep plunge. Her muffled moans are quiet but there, as are his low little grunts.

The door of a stall to their right is being closed, lid opened with a thud, and it's that moment as he pulls her hips to him to sink in as far as possible, burying himself balls deep inside her before he comes with a suppressed little groan, arms wrapping around her waist as he holds onto her. She can feel him twitching and throbbing inside her, her own muscles contracting, squeezing him, milking him of every drop as he paints her insides with his hot seed.

She buries her face in her arms, grateful he's holding her up as her legs give way. Her chest aches, stomach still tense, squeezed by his tight grip. Head spinning, barely registering anything but him behind her, inside her, filling her up with every twitch of his balls. A flush next to them, footsteps, water running. She doesn't care.

He holds her for a few more moments, panting into her ear as he leans over her, his hot breath fanning over her cheek as she turns her head slightly. She feels him relaxing against her, and eventually he leans back, hands holding her waist as he pulls out of her clenching cunt. Something warm and sticky drips down between her legs, and his hands leave her when he bends down and pulls her panties back up.

Helping her upright again, he turns her around, cups her flushed cheek and smiles down at her. She looks at him out of hooded eyes, still feeling his rapid thrusts shuddering through her body like an echo. With every clench of her muscles, more of his cum seeps out of her and into her already soaked underwear. While she tries to get her bearings, he fixes her dress, puts his spent cock back into his pants, and leans down to kiss her softly, wiping at the spit still caked to her chin.

And as if nothing happened, he grabs her hand, unlocks the door and leaves the restroom with her, sinking back into the anonymous crowd, into the soundscape of a busy day, his hand loose around hers, relaxed and tension-free, while her knees are shaking and the dampness between her thighs threatens to spill past the hem of her panties and down her leg.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Car Inspection

Sleepy

[moomine]

come with me | jesper the guard

author's note: psa! this is total self-indulgence... the jesper the guard follower mod/skyrim guard tales literally have me giggling and kicking my feet (cover image credit)

summary: (jespertheguard x dragonborn!reader) (she/her pronouns) After the reader discovers she's the Dragonborn she bonds with Jesper, a Whiterun guard that understands her. The Dragonborn returns to Whiterun after a long time of adventuring and convinces him to leave the city and come with her.

word count: 1,627

warnings: mentions of blood/bloodshed, trauma very briefly explored (mostly fluff here)! all characters are 18+

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As of late, Jesper’s watchful eye felt less and less inquisitive and more so on the side of admiration. Underneath the protective sheath of his helmet, the young guard watched as you walked throughout Whiterun in awe. Upon your initial arrival, he was unsure of you. Who wouldn’t have been off-put by a young woman —dressed in ill-fitting Imperial armor, covered in scrapes and bruises, approaching the city gates with a dire look in her eyes? Better yet, someone who claimed she had information about the dragon attack on Helgen.

Within a short period of time, your name began to carry weight around Whiterun, and the word of the last Dragonborn consumed the entirety of Skyrim. Everyone, man and beast alike, sang praise of the rise of a new hero. Nobody saw you as the woman you truly were, a woman thrusted into a life of adventure and risk without much experience with either. Other than Jesper.

He was used to being overlooked, and when he was noticed it was typically at his own expense. The rest of the Whiterun guard took pleasure in tormenting him. Most of the time they were harmless pranks, just enough to make poor Jesper uncomfortable and his comrades laugh. His experiences outside of the city walls were vastly different. Maybe it was because Jesper took the time to get to know you before you absorbed that dragon’s soul, and the first cry of the Greybeards in centuries could be heard. Maybe because he took great concern at the sight of your disheveled appearance and the obvious shellshock in your eyes when he first saw you. Whatever it may have been, Jesper saw you as more than a hero. He saw you as the woman you were before your legendary quest began.

It had been a number of days since Jesper had seen your return to Whiterun, and his normal anxiety seemed to grow astronomically with each sun that set. When he finally saw you enter the Bannered Mare, seemingly unscathed but clearly exhausted, he felt a weight immediately lift from his shoulders. He watched from afar as you approached Hulda, handed her a fist full of gold, and took a chilly bottle of mead into your gloved hand. He felt his heart begin to race as you turned around and looked about the room, scanning the crowd of merry men and women chatting amongst themselves and listening to the sound of Mikael’s famously sweet lute. As your eyes met his masked face, he felt a smile spread along his lips without his knowledge. It was like an impulse. The second you saw him he felt lighter, felt seen. Somehow you always knew it was him.

You approached, armor clanging against itself as you walked, and nodded to the empty seat across from him with that tired smile of yours. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Jesper said, almost too quickly, and sat up straight.

You didn’t hesitate, dropping your heavy satchel to the floor as you sunk into the rather uncomfortable chair. A long, drawn out sigh blew through your lips. The wooden chair creaked beneath you, warping from the weight of your armor. By your reaction, Jesper would have thought that was the most comfortable chair you had ever had the pleasure to sit in. Realistically, he realized that might have been the first time you sat in a chair at all in days. Ashen logs crackled as the fire ate away at their bark flesh, filling the inn with warmth and the haunting smell of smoke. It had been several months since what happened in Helgen, but you were still tense around fire and smoke.

“You must have had quite the adventure,” he remarked with an amused voice.

“You could say that.” You sighed, popping the cork from your mead before taking a long gulp of the crisp ale. “How’s Whiterun been treating you?”

Jesper grimaced under his helmet. “You really want to hear about how I’ve been? I’m worried I’d bore you to death if I told you.”

“You could never bore me. You have no idea how much I miss the simple life.”

By your expression alone, Jesper could tell you were being genuine. You looked as though you needed to hear about something other than dragons and bloodshed for once.

“They won’t let me take gate duty anymore,” he paused, turning his attention to the wooden sword sheathed at his hip. “And I’m not allowed to carry a blade either.”

Your brows furrowed instantaneously, and you sat up in your chair. “What? Why?” you asked, your gaze piercing and angry.

Jesper felt a shiver go down his spine. “I let a thief into the city. So, now I’m stuck with tavern watch. Making sure drunkards don’t break out into fist fights or harass the barmaids, and all that.”

“As if there aren’t already thieves in this city. That’s outrageous. I’ll talk to the Jarl, we’ll sort this out. I promise-”

“Don’t…” His voice was weak, quiet. “I prefer this. The other guards don’t bother me here, and Hulda’s letting me rent the attic room. It’s better this way.” His eyes fell almost shamefully back to the toy he was burdened with.

“Why do you stay here?” you asked bluntly.

“What do you mean?” he responded, taken aback by your question.

“Why stay in Whiterun? You deserve so much more than this, Jesper. You’re capable of so much more.” You placed an assertive hand on the table, an offering. An understanding. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Come with me.”

Jesper’s face softened as he looked back to you, although you couldn’t see it. “I shouldn’t… I-I mean I can’t. I have a responsibility here. My life is here, in Whiterun. If I go now I’ll be letting everyone down. My family, my brothers and sisters in arms, the Jarl, maybe even you. I can’t just give up because some of the men tease me.”

“They aren’t just teasing you, Jesper. They’re cruel.” Your tone was stern but not harsh. It held a softness you saved just for him, for the rare moments where the two of you could talk. Truly talk. “Come with me. We could go to Solitude, you could join the Bard’s College.”

Your honesty was hard for him to digest, getting stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow the bitter truth. There was little left for him in Whiterun, other than his career and barely notable status. What little he had to his name was either already on his person or overhead, tucked away in that small attic room he had come to call home. Beneath his helm, Jesper’s eyes wandered away from the intensity on your face and toward the fire as it popped, cinders rising from the flames like torchbugs in the night. Your hands tensed, fingers curling into your palms to form fists, as you suppressed a flinch.

“You remembered that?” he asked earnestly, his gaze still fixed on the flickering flames ahead.

A sweet smile crept onto your face as you leaned closer, resting your elbows on top of the table now. “How could I forget? It’s your dream, isn’t it?”

“That’s all it is,” he mumbled. “Just a dream.”

“Don’t you see? We could make it a reality. You can make it a reality,” you said gently.

“I don’t know. They’ll consider me a deserter, you know? I’ll never be allowed within the city walls again.” The discouragement in his tone was starting to become disappointingly familiar to you.

You reached across the table and placed a kindly hand on his shoulder. “You, my friend, are fortunate enough to know the Thane of Whiterun, remember? It pays off to have friends in high places, huh?” 

There was truth to what you were saying, but it was clear to Jesper that you were trying to ease his worries through humor. Since your arrival, he finally had a bit of influence in the city. Although, it was worthless without you physically there to back him up.

Silence fell over the two of you as you stared at one another. Mikael plucked the strings of his lute softly and the commotion of story-telling and conversation echoed throughout the room. Jesper weighed his options, grateful that the conflicted look that surely took over his face was hidden behind the veil of his helmet. After a long moment, he finally nodded, seeming far more sure of himself than before.

“Yeah, okay. If… if you’re certain, then I’ll come with you.” His voice was higher, more excited than before.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” you replied. 

Your face was lit up like the nearby fire, spreading warmth to Jesper’s cheeks as they flushed. Almost reluctantly, you peeled your eyes away from his face as you took one last swig from your bottle. The chair beneath you croaked as you pushed it back, scratching against the stone below. You came to your feet swiftly, despite how clearly fatigued you were. Jesper couldn’t help but frown as he watched you stand.

“Where are you going? The… the night’s still young,” he questioned. He didn’t want the night to end, to stop talking to you.

You smiled tenderly as you looked down at him. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ve had a proper night's sleep in days.” You bent over, grabbing your satchel and the rest of your equipment. “I expect to see you by the stables at sunrise. It’s a long ride to Solitude.”

“I’ll be there!” Jesper replied eagerly, watching as you walked away with a gleam in his eyes. You turned to him one last time with an affectionate smile, then closed the door to your room. “I promise,” he mumbled.

[earthtoharlow]

Teach Me: Jealousy, Jealousy

series masterlist

requested by a lovely anon 🫶

The Back to School event was in full swing with parents chatting, kids running around, and the occasional burst of laughter filling the school gym. Ariel was in her element, organizing activities, ensuring everything ran smoothly, and greeting the parents with a warm smile. It was a big night for her—after weeks of planning, she wanted everything to be perfect.

Jack had promised to stop by after leaving the studio and as she arranged a table of refreshments, she spotted him entering the gym. Instantly, her heart did a little flip. He was hard to miss, tall and charismatic, with a natural aura that drew people in. She watched as he greeted a few familiar faces, his smile as charming as ever.

As Jack made his way toward her, she noticed something else: the way several of the other moms were watching him. Some of them she knew well—other teachers, classroom volunteers, the occasional mom she’d seen at school pick-up. But tonight, they seemed particularly attentive to her husband’s presence. They weren’t just noticing him; they were lingering, eyes following him with more than casual interest.

One of her former students' mom, Laura immediately broke off her conversation and headed straight to Jack. Ariel watched as Laura introduced herself, laughing a bit too loudly at something her husband said. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Laura rested a hand on his arm, her fingers lingering just a bit too long.

Ariel immediately became irritated. She knew her husband was attractive—of course, she did. But seeing the other moms flirt with him, right in front of her, stirred something deeper.

She tried to focus on her tasks, but it was impossible to ignore what was happening. Another mom, Janet who always seemed overly friendly, joined Laura, and the two of them flanked towards Jack, their attention fully on him. They laughed, twirled their hair, and practically ignored the fact that his wife was standing just a few feet away.

Jack, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having, smiled politely and engaged in their conversation, though she noticed he was trying to inch his way closer to her. Still, it wasn’t fast enough for her liking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jack made his way to her, leaving the two women behind. He slipped an arm around her waist and leaned in, concern flickering in his eyes. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low so only she could hear.

Ariel forced a smile, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “It’s just…some of these moms seem really interested in you tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Really? I hadn’t noticed, but can you really blame them?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to keep the edge out of her voice. “Come on, you had to notice. They’re practically falling over themselves to get your attention.”

Jack chuckled, pulling her a little closer. “You’re the only one I’m interested in.”

Ariel wanted to stay mad, to hold on to the jealousy that had caught her off guard, but his words—and the way he looked at her—melted her resolve. “I know, it’s just… I don’t like sharing you.”

His grin widened as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Good, because I’m not up for sharing, either.” He paused, then added with a playful look in his eyes, “Besides, they’re probably just trying to figure out how I got so lucky to have you.”

Ariel couldn’t help but laugh at that, the last of her irritation melting away. “You always know how to say the right thing.”

Jack shrugged, looking around the room as if to make sure no one was listening, then whispered, “Well, you are the smartest, most beautiful woman here. They’re probably just jealous.”

She nudged him playfully, feeling the warmth of his arm around her. “Okay, now you’re just flattering me.”

“Is it working?” he asked, grinning.

She sighed, her heart swelling with love. “Yeah, it’s working.”

As the event wound down and the last few parents trickled out of the gym, Jack stayed close, helping her clean up.

Once the final table was folded and the last chair stacked, Jack leaned casually against the wall, watching her as she tidied up the remaining odds and ends. His gaze was warm, but there was something else in his expression—a playful glint that made her pause.

“What?” Ariel asked, arching an eyebrow.

He grinned, taking a step closer. “You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone, “I think it’s kind of hot that you got jealous.”

She felt her cheeks warm, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling up inside her. “Hot?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. “You think me getting all worked up over a few flirty moms is hot?”

Jack nodded, closing the distance between them. “Absolutely. It means you care—means you’re a little protective of what’s yours.”

Ariel tried to keep a straight face, but his words and that mischievous smile were making it impossible. “Oh, so now you’re ‘mine,’ huh?”

“Since I first walked into your classroom” he said, his tone suddenly more serious as he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And always will be.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “You know, you’re pretty smooth when you want to be.”

He pulled her into his arms, his smile turning softer. “Only with you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead. “Because you’re worth it.”

***

Tag List

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[jessicalprice]

all hail her excellent braids

Christians: omg first century Judaism was soooo misogynistic but Jesus was like the first feminist because he treated women like people

Jews: what

Christians: like, Jewish men would cross to the other side of the street to avoid having to be too close to women

Jews: hang on do you think there were, like, sidewalks in first-century Jerusalem?

Christians: and Jewish women weren't supposed to be seen in public

Jews: that's not how--

Christians: and men weren't even supposed to talk to women, but Jesus had female followers <3

Jews: first-century Jewish women owned their own businesses and represented themselves in court and, like, how are you imagining business got done if they weren't allowed to talk?

President Jimmy fucking Carter: first century Jews were basically the Taliban

A bazillion seminary textbooks: yup, the Pharisees were obsessed with ritual purity and viewed women as inherently unclean and Jesus upended all that Pharisaic hatred of women and that's why they wanted him dead

Shlomtzion, aka Salome Alexandra, has entered the chat.

Ahem, let me tell you about the Pharisee Queen.

So back in the day, the Pharisees were a tiny, persecuted movement because the King of Judah, Alexander Jannaeus hated them. He straight-up massacred 6,000 of them when they pelted him with fruit after he mocked them by performing a Sukkot ritual incorrectly, which kicked off a whole civil war. He won the war, and slaughtered the wives and children of 800 of the surviving Pharisees as entertainment at his victory feast before crucifying the men. The remaining Pharisees went into hiding.

Just a charming dude.

Alexander Jannaeus was married to Salome Alexandra (Shlomtzion, in Hebrew).

Her brother was Shimon ben Shetach, the leader of the Pharisees. (If you're getting Esther vibes here, that's probably not accidental.

She doesn't seem to have had much power while Alexander Jannaeus was alive, but she managed to help hide and protect the surviving Pharisees.

This doesn't seem to have negatively impacted her relationship with her husband, because he named her--rather than any of his sons--his heir while he was on his deathbed.

He was in the middle of conducting a siege of Ragaba when he died, so like the incredible badass she was, became queen--and would be both only the second queen regnant of Judah and the last sovereign Jewish monarch--on the battlefield, in the midst of hostilities.

She had to conceal her husband's death until she'd won the day.

As soon as she made his death public, she reached out to the Pharisees to make peace between them and the throne, avoiding a popular uprising at his funeral. The funeral went off smoothly, and she immediately began settling other political disputes and enmities.

She also hung out and studied with the Pharisees. We know this because Josephus, an ardent misogynist, absolutely hated that she did this, just like he absolutely hated that she had ruled Judah, and wrote about it.

Josephus had been a Sadducee (main opposing party to the Pharisees), but switched to the Pharisees later in life for political expediency. He never seemed to actually like them, though.

He tells on himself so much.

"Oh, people love the Pharisees because they are humane and flexible interpreters of the law and practice what they preach and this is a BAD THING!"

Literally, on Shlomtzion: "Woman though she was, she established her authority by her reputation for piety."

Like, everyone respected her and did what she said because she actually gave a shit about ethics and somehow this is a BAD thing.

She averted war with Egypt by buddying up to Cleopatra (I am so headcanoning them as pen pals, writing each other to vent about all the men they have to deal with) and somehow this is a BAD thing.

So she takes the throne and manages to keep things running pretty smoothly in a precarious time because she's good at organizing AND military strategy AND diplomacy and here's Josephus on her relationship with the Pharisees:

"She paid too great heed to them, and they, availing themselves more and more of the simplicity of the woman, ended by becoming the effective rulers of the state... "

Ah yes, FlavJo, she sounds very "simple," what with the incredible military and diplomatic skills.

While she wasn't averse to fighting when she needed to, she mostly averted possible battles by fortifying and provisioning cities so well that neighboring monarchs opted not to attack them, so she was also just slaying at project management. She ended a bunch of the foreign wars her asshole husband started, and scrupulously kept to the terms of any treaties Judah was party to.

Her reign was possibly the most prosperous and peaceful period in Judah's history.

She gave the Sadducees (her husband's party) their own fortified cities so they'd stop feuding with the Pharisees, and took the Pharisees from a small, persecuted populist movement in hiding to one of the major political parties.

She set up a system of universal public education, putting the responsibility for educating the kids on the government, not families, to make sure it wasn't just rich kids getting a solid education. She re-established the Sanhedrin (the Supreme Court, basically) and made sure every town under her rule had access to judges.

And then one of her asshole sons, who apparently took after his asshole dad, decided HE would be a better ruler than she was, and DECLARED WAR ON HIS OWN MOM. She died, apparently of an illness, in her 70s.

She died as the last free Jewish ruler.

So then that asshole son went after the other asshole son, and they turned to the Romans for help.

(You want to get occupied? This is how you get occupied.)

Yes, that's right, they committed one of the classic blunders: inviting the Romans in.

THE ROMANS ARE LIKE VAMPIRES. DO NOT INVITE THEM IN.

Anyway, we all know how THAT turned out.

In rabbinic literature, she's almost a fertility goddess figure, or a personification the land itself, or a monarch beloved by G-d possibly moreso than any other, since the rest of them all screwed up and the Jews got punished with war or exile or famine or disease: legend claims that during her reign, rain only fell on Shabbat, so people didn't have to work in the rain. Grains of wheat grew to the size of kidneys, and lentils were the size of gold denarii. The people knew joy like we've never known since and were healthy and prosperous and at peace.

She was praised by contemporaries such as Josephus as having greater intelligence, political skill, and military acumen than the men around her (although Josephus, an ardent misogynist, later decided that it was inappropriate for her to rule), and the stories of Esther, Judith, and Susanna may have been written (or in the case of Esther, edited and codified) in her honor. 

​Anyway, the Pharisees' teachings remained especially popular among women, and the person who saved them (and thus, by extension, Judaism, when they were the ones to preserve it in exile) and brought them to power and was their beloved patron was a woman, and maaaaaaybe Christians don't know the first thing about women in first-century Judaea or the Pharisees and women and should shut up, idk.

All hail Shlomtzion and her most excellent braids.

[blackexcellence]

Black Girl Magic 🪄🎆has entered the chat! Consider us a Black Girl Fan Page 🫶🏿🫶🏾🫶🏽🫶🏼🫶🏻 Let's celebrate Black girl magic in all its forms...

Black Girl Magic means many different things to many different people, but maybe we can simply define it as the resolve of Black women and girls to triumph in the face of structural oppression. These three words are a celebration of the resilience, strength, and beauty of Black girls and women, who have overcome countless obstacles and continue to inspire and uplift others. As a society, we need to acknowledge and celebrate the power and potential of Black girls, and recognize the vital role they play in shaping our future. Black women and girls are the backbone of their communities, often taking on roles of leadership and responsibility from a young age. Unapologetic in their pursuit of their dreams and refusing to be held back by societal expectations — Black (women and) girls are trailblazers, creating their own paths and shattering stereotypes along the way. Simply put BLACK GIRLS ARE MAGICAL. 

Now let’s get one thing straight “magic” is not to say that Black women are mythical or superhuman. This magic is a very different: magic in realness, in love, and the way we rally around one another in the face of institutional oppression. This magic is not sorcery or the supernatural, but what Black women can achieve each and every day as a million little revolutions, and a million little acts of defiance, that say you belong here. It is magic against the very real injustices faced every day: survival; more likely to be killed at almost three times the rate of white women, yet without headlines appealing for change. More likely to die giving birth, and the most suspended of any student group in the USA. And suspended for what? For how they wear their hair, for how they dress, by asking questions. Even in the workplace, there is both antiblackness and sexism to navigate: misogynoir. 

Despite these challenges, #BlackGirlMagic is conjured each and every day in a million different ways: through hair, writing, painting, poetry, dance, performance, fashion and dress, culture and history, music, and even speech. The Black experience is often narrated as a struggle, Black Girl Magic challenges that by exploring the joy, amplifying these voices and stories, and changing the narrative.

But we cannot do this without YOU: so POST your favorite depictions of Black Girl Magic, no matter how big, no matter how small. We want it all: the extraordinary and the everyday. And don’t forget to tag your content with #blackexcellence365 for the chance to be featured. Make sure you join in, follow, and smash that share button using the tags #BlackExcellence365. 

[hrizantemy]

And to this day I‘m still searching for the point to make Helion and Mor have sex. Wth was that about? I don’t see how that was necessary at all. Was it just to show Azriel’s jealousy or something? And the fact that Feyre was thinking of a threesome with Helion and Rhys? Like ew.

Why, for the love of god, is everyone in that series so obsessed with sex that they‘d f*ck anyone that enters the chat? I get that sex is nice, but the fairy dick cannot be THAT good.

And while I agree that Azriel should leave Mor alone and move on, I don’t see how fucking everyone but him would solve the problem here? Mor said that she loves him like family, how come she isn’t comfortable enough to straight up reject Azriel but very comfortable to use other men to make Azriel stay away? I don’t understand the logic behind it? Wth is her mission??

I’m pretty sure Morrigan hooked up with Helion to keep the fact that she likes girls under wraps, but honestly, who cares? No one thought otherwise. It’s like she’s only feeding into the narrative that she sleeps around, even though she doesn’t need to. And before anyone accuses me of slut-shaming, I’m not. Morrigan literally admits to sleeping with people to keep Azriel in his place. She’s the one choosing to reinforce that image, not me. So yeah, the whole situation just feels unnecessary and confusing, especially when she doesn’t seem comfortable just rejecting Azriel outright. It’s like a weird mix of using other men to keep him at a distance while still not addressing the core issue.

I have my own set of issues with Azriel being as dumb as a rock while still being presented as this genius spymaster. Like, we’re supposed to believe this man is the master of shadows, able to unravel the most complex plots and uncover the deepest secrets, yet he can’t figure out that Mor isn’t into him? For five hundred years? He’s apparently this expert in reading people and situations, but when it comes to his personal relationships, he’s completely clueless. It’s not just the Mor situation either—he’s supposed to be this brilliant strategist, but half the time, he comes across as overly broody and impulsive. Like, where is the tactical genius when he’s laughing at Nesta falling down stairs or throwing a tantrum over Elain?

I’m just saying, if this is the standard for a spymaster, the Night Court must not have that many secrets worth protecting.

So yeah, I hate Morrigan. The Night Court is stupid, and everyone in it is also stupid. How is this the “most powerful court” when it’s basically just a bunch of horny, emotionally stunted immortals running around like unsupervised teenagers? They spend more time gossiping, hooking up, and having petty drama than they do ruling anything. Rhys is out here writing his sad little autobiography while Feyre uses their life-or-death missions as inspiration for erotic painting ideas. Cassian is playing wingman to everyone’s bad decisions, Azriel is brooding in the corner wondering why Mor won’t love him while also somehow making Elain uncomfortable, and Amren’s just hoarding trinkets and insulting everyone’s intelligence.

And Morrigan. Miss “I’m so free and feminist” but can’t tell her so-called family she’s into women after five centuries of awkward vibes. No, let’s just keep hooking up with Helion and random dudes so we can keep Azriel in check, because clearly that’s a mature solution. Honestly, the only people with half a brain in that Court are the shopkeepers who charge them triple for overpriced wine and sexy clothes because they know this group is too distracted by their own melodrama to notice they’re getting ripped off.

[sacchiri]

[Hellsing] Female Fans' Round-Table Discussion

A 6-page interview from the 2012 Hellsing Official Guidebook, featuring five grown-ass women chatting about Hellsing in a casual discussion format and translated into English for the first time ever by yours truly.

Honestly this was way more entertaining to read than I thought it would be. It’s also really funny seeing this super-casual discussion printed in the book right alongside Hirano's—-oh who am i kidding, this is 10x more professional and less deranged than whatever goes on in Hirano’s interviews.

Anyway, without further ado...

Does Hellsing have little to no female fans? Nay! Assembled before you are five women with an undying love for the series. Let’s see their passion for this work show itself as they butt heads!

Is the female fanbase just hiding itself or what?

Moderator: Now then, everyone, let’s start off with introductions.

Ms. T: I am Ms. T. I’ve been walking the path of an otaku since middle school, and it’s already been ● years since then. How do I put this, all of you seem like fairly normal people…

Everyone: Oh no—rest assured we are all otaku as well. (laughter)

Ms T: Oh, really? (laughs) Anyway, I’ve continued to love manga for all this time. Thank you for having me.

Ms J: I’m Ms J. I was already at a decent age when Hellsing began serialization, but to create something so enticing—as expected of Hirano-sensei! (laughs). This is the kind of manga I’d better buy and collect, I thought.

Ms A: Out of today’s gathering, I’m probably the one who became an otaku at the oldest age. (laughs) My friend told me, “Hellsing is a manga that really crazy people read”, so at first I couldn’t get around to starting it. But around the time volume 8 came out, I binge-read it, and it was so interesting that I couldn’t help but get obsessed.

Ms R: I’m probably the youngster in this group. By the time Hellsing started serialization, I was just entering middle school. [T/N: That makes her 27 at the time of this interview.]

Of course we didn’t really have the term "edgy-teen syndrome" back then, but around me the manga was definitely gaining popularity in that edgy teen fashion. One of my best friends was obsessed with Hellsing and I’d borrow it after they finished reading it, and I got addicted too.

Moderator: I’m under the impression that the female readership for Hellsing is overwhelmingly small, but…

Ms J: Nah, I think they’re just hiding. I mean, it’s not like you’d talk about Hellsing to someone in passing. You wouldn’t suddenly say, “Y’know, Alucard is…”

Everyone: True. (laughs)

Ms J: There isn’t much opportunity to bring it up, or perhaps you could say it’s a hard topic to bring up to the general public.

Ms A: Like how you can’t have a pork-and-rice bowl first thing in the morning or something.

Ms J: Yeah, like that. Actually, among my circle of female otaku friends, everyone has read Hellsing.

Ms T: Among manga fans, Kouta Hirano is well-understood.

Ms J: Any fan of manga who doesn’t know Kouta Hirano is a faker!

Ms T: Disregarding whether you’ve properly sat down and read his works or not, I feel like it’s impossible for a manga enthusiast to not have at least heard of Hirano-sensei. But we are talking about manga fans in general, and the range of tastes is so broad. If someone were to say to me “I’m a fan of Kouta Hirano”, only then would I be like, “Oh, so I can talk comfortably with this person”.

Moderator: It’s a good litmus test to use. (laughs)

Ms A: It’s only when you broach the topic of Kouta Hirano that you can finally talk about Hellsing. You can’t go straight from “So I hear you like manga” to “So, about Hellsing…”, lol.

Ms J: If you met someone for the first time and you go “So I heard you like manga? What about Hellsing?” that’s like coming straight for their throat with a knife. (laughs)

Moderator: Even as a gauge to see how much of an otaku your opponent is, it’s a bit too much to try and break the ice with Hellsing.

The wonders of dialogue

Ms J: Speaking of the good points of Hellsing, I think it’s that it doesn’t get overly preachy. You can see this starting from Cross Fire, but you really get the sense that everyone’s equally crazy here.

Ms A: I can see that. No one is on the side of justice. Like the Major, he’s a nasty little guy. The type of guy who would casually twist off an ant’s legs or something like that.

Ms J: That Major, his beta male levels are literally off the charts.

Everyone: (bursts into laughter)

Ms J: Actually, something that caught my interest about the setting is that only virgins can become vampires. In the first place, I don’t think European vampire lore makes that kind of distinction.

Ms T: Father Anderson is probably a virgin, since he has religious reasons for celibacy. Though it might depend on religious sect. I wonder if there’s a meaning behind this concept of chastity?

Ms J: The idea of chastity is valued in the Hellsing universe as well.

Ms A: Right, since if you aren’t a virgin you become a ghoul, and then it’s game over and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Ms R: Speaking of which, Integra’s a virgin, too.

Ms T: Integra being a virgin is an important part of the story.

Ms J: In my personal opinion, the best couple is definitely Alucard and Integra.

Ms R and Ms A: I was going to say the same!

Ms T: Integra and Alucard call each other “Count”, don’t they? You know, in a previous life it’s possible that Integra was a man. Perhaps Alucard is seeing the Count Hellsing of the past through Integra. Thinking about that possibility makes a girl’s heart flutter. Not to mention Integra’s appearance leans towards that of a man— Ah, it’s just so peak! [T/N: I'm not being facetious, 盛り literally means peak]

Ms A: Those who want to read a male/female romance can enjoy doing so, and for people who like BL, there are plenty of elements that can be enjoyed as BL also. I feel like the reason you can enjoy both things is because the relationships that are depicted are not constrained purely to sexual love.

Ms J: For those who like to read into the BL aspect, there are lots of fight scenes that can’t be ignored, can they? Particularly in the endgame. Like Girlycard and Young Walter, that was...really something.

Moderator: That part was just unfair! I mean, after getting captured by Millennium and going M.I.A., all that anticipation was building and building, and for Walter to be reintroduced like that!

Ms J: When I got to that part I was like, “Man, Hirano-sensei really did his best to keep all that stuff pent-up for so long". For both Walter and Girlycard, I mean.

Moderator: Speaking of Girlycard, I get the feeling that the idea for her was in place since the early stages of story development.

Ms J: I wonder about that… on the other hand it seems like it was a very spontaneous decision. (laughs)

Ms A: Even if the story developments feel spontaneous, I feel like the characters' settings are polished to a high degree from the beginning. Even though a new character suddenly appears out of nowhere, you end up following along without feeling a sense of discomfort. In Hirano-sensei's mind, I'm sure that each character is cultivated with an equal amount of attention. After that it's just a matter of deciding what situations the character will appear in.

Ms J: Each character is excellently molded to their place in the story. Even though normally it should be very challenging to create characters that would fit in this sort of world. (laughs) From the moment of their introduction, they are already dyed in Hirano's unique brand, and you can tell that Hirano understands them well.

Ms R: After all, characters from his past works before Hellsing make appearances in the manga, so you get the feeling that these are ideas that have been stewing in his head for a long time.

Moderator: And within Hellsing too, these characters grow and develop. Like Maxwell—he started out as a mere brat, but then he went full tryhard mode and developed that cunning and pretentious side to him.

Everyone: (leans forward) Yeah, that's right!!

Ms J: —And he had that past with Anderson, didn't he? I was like "Hold on a sec, a flashback scene now, are you kidding me"? Even though I knew that a flashback is basically a death flag, I couldn't help but love it. (laughs)

Ms A: At the final moment, Maxwell called Anderson "Sensei", a reversal of their dynamic thus far. Up until then there were hints of foreshadowing, but nothing definite. But with that single word you could feel the adoration Maxwell had felt for Anderson when he was a child... It's amazing how potent that line was. The timing of delivery was excellent, too.

Ms R: Up until that point Maxwell was portrayed as nothing more than a snob, but the truth is there were reasons why he became that way.

Ms T: Hirano-sensei is very skilled at depicting relationships between men.

The beauty of composition

Ms A: In Hellsing, there aren't any characters that go too far beyond the range of normal anatomy.

Even with regards to enemies and such, there aren't any massively gargantuan or bulky characters. Everyone is more or less normal. And yet, there is so much impact in the poses that it leaves you with a strong impression. Those standout panels just radiate style—so much so that anyone with an eye for art will be impressed by them, I think.

Ms T: The paneling is relatively simple, but the composition sense of each panel is amazing.

Ms R: I love the stuff like Rip Van's silhouette. The balance between her and the musket is super cool. Even though something that size in real life would be impractical to shoot, it looks so cool that it's like, "Who cares!"

Ms A: Fight scenes that should have a lot of movement are instead surprisingly depicted with still frame shots, and they have a beauty to them reminiscent of paintings. It makes me want to stare at the same handful of panels for a long time. Calling it aesthetic beauty might be a bit of an exaggeration, but...

Ms T: Not an exaggeration at all, I think there is a lot of aesthetic beauty. For me, when I look at Hirano-sensei's artwork, I'm reminded of ukiyo-e paintings. And in the movement, I sense a bit of kabuki theater.

Moderator: Each panel is created with beauty in every nook and cranny, so as to work as a standalone illustration.

Ms R: The way shadow and blood is depicted is so good, isn't it? It really makes full use of the monochrome medium.

Ms A: When I was reading the scene in volume 8 when Cromwell Level 0 is released and soldiers are unleashed in hordes, it reminded me of a medieval copperplate engraving. The plot developments in that moment were so interesting, and the density of the illustrations so rich, that simply staring at them was enjoyable.

Ms T: It really draws you in, doesn't it? In other manga that have very detailed art styles, the realism makes it feel similar to a liveaction movie. But Hirano's works are 100% "manga", I would say. In that sense, none of it is realistic at all. But that's why it's possible to achieve poses and compositions that are impossible with photography, and that's why he can portray things I didn't even know I would want to see.

The position of women in Hellsing

Moderator: To all of you, was there a scene where you were like, "This scene right here is where I became obsessed"?

Ms J: So this is my personal taste, but I liked the setup of the handsome lady Master and the handsome male Servant. I like butlers, too. So once those three conditions were satisfied, I was like, "This is a good manga". The part where I was like "This is a really good manga" was when Anderson was introduced. At first, I was thinking this would be a story where Alucard dotes upon Seras and raises her up as a vampire, but then we were introduced to a Catholic priest from the same religion, yet who aims to defeat the protagonists...

Ms A: You can't deny the impact of Anderson. The only thing he wants to do is "exterminate vampires". While characters in Hellsing may undergo sudden changes, they never waver. They race from their introduction to their final chapter with just as much momentum as when they were first introduced. Not only is it satisfying to read, you won't be disappointed. As long as your favorite character appears, you can focus all your attentions on them, and before you know it you'll have binge-read to the last chapter. (laughs)

Ms T: For me, the scene when Integra discovers Alucard in the basement, and Alucard was revived with her blood is when I became hooked. While it is an expected development for vampire stories, that part of the story was very beautiful. And afterwards, I loved the tender portrayal of Seras's growth. Among ero-guro media, there are many works that portray women in a demeaning manner, but Hellsing is not one of them.

Ms A: In Hellsing, there is no distinction in the roles that are assigned to men and women.

Ms J: Indeed, women fight and stand on the front lines. And it feels natural.

Ms R: To tell the truth, when I first started reading Hellsing, I thought Integra was a man. And, for some reason it felt overly pandering [T/N: I assume she means pandering to fujoshi] and I just couldn't get into it. But then I realized Integra was a woman, and I was like "Oh, so it's a female/male master-servant relationship! I'm sorry for making such a weird assumption!" (laughs) I feel like it's important that Integra is a woman.

Ms T: In volume 1 there were moments where Integra was told incredulously, "You're a woman?", but in those moments I always felt that, ironically, being called a "woman" was what made her so much more cool. In Hellsing, you get the feeling that all characters are loved by the creator regardless of being male or female, enemy or ally. There are many standout characters among the villains, for example.

Ms J: Each character showcases their individuality in their fighting style as well.

Ms A: I love that Rip Van is this scrawny girl with long limbs, who wields an old-fashioned musket—it gives off a really fantastic impression. The fact that a girl is given that kind of position, without it feeling offensive. When men draw female characters there tends to be a bit of double standards going on, or it can feel cloying or annoying depending on the scenario, but I don't feel that in Hellsing.

Ms J: Far from being annoying, the depictions of women feel unique and cool in their own way.

Ms A: You're right. Traditionally, female characters are accompaniments to the hero, aren't they? But Integra takes the lead, and while Seras is supported by those around her, she moves according to her own choices. Even among the female villains, they are given important roles that they carry out to the end, so you can read while feeling a sense of satisfaction.

Points you would recommend to other women

Ms T: Doesn't the series in general have a sort of sensuality?

Ms J: It does. As it gets nearer and nearer to the endgame, even the fight scenes show more tenderness. It's like a "They love each other, therefore they trade blows" vibe that feels erotic.

Ms R: When Alucard returned to London in volume 8, it felt pretty romantic.

Ms T: On the other hand, the explanations about weapon specs that pop up everywhere seem very male-oriented. I guess this is what you call the author's hobby.

Ms J: Speaking of the author's hobby, I feel like the fact that Walter is an old man is one of them. If you think about it purely in terms of reader appeal, there should have been no problem if Walter was young from the beginning. I get the impression that he was like, "If you're going to add a butler, it better be an old geezer". Ahh—the more I reread, the more I feel like I discover new things.

Moderator: There is plenty more we weren't able to talk about, but to close us off, please appeal to the women who haven't read Hellsing yet as to why they should read the series.

Ms A: The female characters are so full of life, so why not give it a try mainly for the female characters?

Ms T: You can read it together with your boyfriend! There are lots of battles and weapons that guys would like, and there's no nasty relationship drama, so it might actually be a big hit among couples.

Ms J: "Look at Integra and Alucard, honey, they're just like us!" or something? (laughs)

Ms R: When you think of vampire media, you might be inclined to imagine something campy and whimsical. But even though there's a lot of absurdism at play, the world is based on real historical facts. So I want to recommend it broadly, even to those that don't normally enjoy fantasy.

Ms T: I feel like Hellsing is like a very strong liquor. At first you might feel that the taste is overwhelming, but once you get used to it, it becomes delicious.

Ms J: Please go in with zero expectations and give it a read.

Moderator: Thank you all for your time today!

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

Link to the raw scans (which are not mine). Feel free to spread and repost my translation to other sites.

[lovelyd0gg]

hiiiiiii beautiful, how are you feeling? Your HCs are very entertaining, so I have an idea.

How would the boys treat you if you were the only girl in the company and they were in love with you? THANK YOU!!!!!😘

Hey gorgeous, I just woke up (MORNING PERSON FRRR) I'm so happy you find them interesting<3 Of course I'd love to do that hc. Enjoy it<3

Warnings: Flirting, eyeing you up and down.

Bull Randleman.

•He was part of the E company so all of them were men, but to be honest, he didn't really care which gender came to the army.

•But one day, Winters brought E company for a quick little meeting for a new recruit and when he saw you, oh boy.

•Some of the other men in E company were already eyeing you up and down and some whispering some catcalls to their pals.

•But Bull was a gentleman and didn't do that.

•When you all were at a bar you noticed some men in E company and Bull were throwing darts at a board

•You asked if you could join and he just smiled and nodded.

•You were really good at the game so when you hit the board really close to the bullseye, a couple of men who weren't even playing started watching.

•Bull knew that you weren't a woman someone could easily mess with. So he was proud of you and knew you were gonna fit in (despite the constant catcalling🙄)

•He counted the points and gave you back the darts.

•"Shit, Y/N. You got more points than the others."

•When the other men had their jaws on the ground Bull smiled at their reactions.

•Who knew such a small woman like you could first join the army and second, beat EVERYONE in darts (honestly-- girlboss)

•Needless to say, Bull thought you were quite pretty and he knew you would fit right in. Hopefully you'd go with the paratroopers like him.

Eugene Roe.

•He felt a little confused when you weren't a nurse, you were a soldier, and the only female soldier in E company.

•Let's just say his head tilted at least 5 times when Winters explained to the company that you were a new recruit.

•Eugene felt disgusted that some of the men were whispering catcalls and whispering some dirty things about you, he felt that you weren't gonna last long here mentally.

•But boy was he wrong.

•Already 1 day in, he heard commotion at the darts are and he noticed you scored the highest than all of them.

•He was impressed.

•He looked down at your little frame and smiled.

•You weren't just adorable, honey.

•Later, you and him were having a chat on why you both were here and what you're gonna do when you go back home, so just a normal chat between you two.

•You both managed to get some flirting in the conversation which made you realize that both you and Eugene, weren't good at receiving flirts from each other.

•The whole time you both blushed and stuttered whenever the other said something flirty.

•You swore you could've heard him say "Mon dieu" (my god) when you flirted with him.

•But girl, you have him around your finger so don't worry about him looking at any other girls.

George Luz.

•Unfortunately, he was part of the people who were catcalling you in whispers.

•But he was also the first to shout a catcall to you in the bar.

•You rolled your eyes and ignored him because this isn't the first time someone catcalled you.

•Well a couple days go by and Luz and you got on the same page, he was flirting with you at times but it wasn't anything serious.

•He cracked a ton of jokes with you and you both became friends!

•He was also a little confused as to why you weren't a nurse like the other women at the infirmary.

•Oh well! You're a soldier instead of a nurse, so you couldn't do anything about it! Plus, George wasn't complaining at all😏

•He had you more to himself and he was happy with that.

•I think it's safe to say, he toned down on the catcalls, since you also told him to flirt face to face and not be a wuss.

•"Whatever you say, gorgeous."

Bill Guarnere.

•He saw you enter the barracks with a straight back and chin up, you had an emotionless expression and at first, to him, you didn't look exciting.

•But wait... Is that what he thinks it is?! BOOBS!

•When he was looking st you head to toe, he noticed your chest was more puff than the men in E company.

•So that immediately clicked his brain and he out two and two together and immediately knew you were a woman.

•Crazy right? He had to use his last two braincells for this very hard 'gender mystery'.

•When everyone was at the bar. He noticed you were at the darts board and he looked at the board of darts with his jaw open.

•"What the hell? How the fuck--?!"

•The man was too stunned to speak.

•But he noticed your ecstatic expression and immediately tthought he could beat your highest score.

•"She ain't that special. I could probably beat her."

•He didn't 😄

•But you two did chat the rest of the time, getting to know each other and stuff like that.

•So I think despite all of that, he found you a little cute. (He would never admit it though 🤭)

Lewis Nixon.

•He didn't really mind but he did wonder why Winters would choose you to join E company or the army in general.

•As soon as you walked in, he was sizing you up, almost like he'd start a fight with you or something (smh💀💀)

•But when he got a closer look at you, he thought you'd fit in the company easily.

•He was at the bar and as usual, DRINKING!

•He heard loud gasps and "WADDAFUC" around the darts 'play area' as he called it.

•He rolled his eyes and walked over. He saw the place the darts were in and his jaw dropped.

•"Waddafuc indeed Luz!"

•He was impressed to say the least.

•You and him chatted for a while and he couldn't stop looking at your eyes for some reason.

•You asked him why he was looking at your eyes and he responded with.

•"They're gonna make me hypnotized."

•So that was something--.

•But let's just say he was... What's the word? "In love with you."

Ronald Speirs.

•He wasn't happy.

•The army is for men and men only, and the women were for the infirmary where they could be a nurse.

•So seeing you, a female wanting to be a soldier, was actual DISBELIEF.

•But, he did take a couple more glances at you here and there and started to think that maybe he was a little too harsh on the thoughts of you and maybe he should see what you are like.

•So when he heard shouting and commotion at the board he saw you and you scored the highest.

•He'd be lying if he said he wasn't impressed.

•Then you and him had a conversation of what happened when you both had to leave for the army and your story made him intrigued.

•Well he was more intrigued by your lips moving..

•But girl, it's hard to get a guy like him in love with you. So BE HAPPY.

Joseph Liebgott.

•Like George, he was also whispering some flirts and jokes to his friends.

•You definitely weren't ugly (YOU'RE STUNNING IRL<3) but he didn't know it you were his type.

•But he decided he didn't want to be a douchebag so he gave you a chance to fit in today.

•He saw you scored the highest points at the darts board and he laughed and smiled.

•He hit you on the back as a "good job!" Type of thing.

•Maybe you were gonna fit in after all!

•You and him then took some drinks and talked the whole night about what you wanna do in the future and where you wanna go and see.

•He was actually interested by your stories and the plans for the future!

•He did flirt with you, like a lot. But it was harmless flirting! It didn't make you uncomfortable anyway.

•He definitely found you beautiful too, you were definitely his type in the end.

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, where Alicent overused her authority to send Rhaenyra's un-velaryon looking children to the sept)

Luke has lived in the sept all his life. He was told that he was a bastard, and that bastards were sent to the septs in order to apologize to the seven for being created. They were stains needed to be clean, and although this sin would never leave their souls, they would at least be used to work for the gods forever, as either as septon or septa, depending on what they are, and if they truly don't try to change their lustful ways, they would be sent to the silent sisters, or the wall.

Luke flowered into an omega three namedays ago, and was made to train as a septa. Omegas were rare, which meant he must have been a bastard of one of the "nobler" houses, something he just learned recently. He was a special case, because omegas are usually returned to the noble houses they came from, and Luke had hoped he would be returned, his wants for a family strong. He wasn't, however, and was only given certain scented clothes said to be from his family, but nothing more. Soon, even those dwindled, and the scents long gone. He has, however, kept the clothes as a reminder that he has a family somewhere.

Being an only omega has brought certain privileges, being given a room of his own (despite how small it was), and having to worship two specific gods, the Maiden and the Mother, instead of all seven. One who values omegas' chastity, the other who gave the omegas their ability to produced children. What's more is the fact that most of the worshippers of the Maiden and the Mother are often women, betas and omegas, and marked alphas, rarely an unmated alpha that Luke could "seduce", bastard that he was despite his omegan gift.

Luke would pray with them, and they would ask him to pray for them specially. He would agree, doing his best to remember their names, and would pray for them all. One of the most who prays to them came in the form of Queen Consort Alicent, who usually brought along her daughter Helaena, who Luke miraculously befriended (he was the only one who talked to her kindly, and included her in his prayers without being asked). She comes to pray almost every moon, leaving King's Landing in favor of Oldtown, finding comfort in her childhood Sept.

This moon was no different, her entering the prayer hall of the Mother, where Luke was praying in. It was only when he was done praying did he notice a different figure beside her. Instead of soft Helaena, he sees a large man with white hair looking straight at him. The incense burning might have been able to disguise most of their scents, but Luke didn't need scent to know that the man was an alpha.

Though strange, he ignored him. He had been in the sept for years, there have been alphas praying to the Mother, but never an unmarked one. Still, he was sure that, since he was with the queen, he would be respectful. After the prayers, he went to greet the Queen, as he often do. He gave a polite nod to the man beside her, who the Queen introduced to be her son, Aemond.

After a small chat, and learning that Helaena is with child once more, the queen and her son left.

Then a few days later, a letter was sent to the sept, asking Luke to be one of the septas watching over the twins Helaena already had. Though a bit overwhelmed, he along with the others chosen were placed on a boat and sent to King's Landing. Luke was greeted by a sight of a large dragon. Though the others cowered, he did not. He was quite fascinated by the large beast, who flew to who knows where. He thinks he might have caught a glimpse of white hair, but that doesn't really tell him anything of the rider. All Targaryens have white hair, he was taught that in passing.

He slowly became the favorite septa of the twins out of all the others. They shared their mother's oddity, their liking for creeping, crawling little creatures, so while the others could barely keep themselves from running once they see the large spider, or the flying moth, Luke, though a bit hesitant, wasn't as easily scared.

What the twins like the most was him not fearing their dragons. The dragons in turn also don't seem to dislike Luke as much as the others, to his confusion. Mayhaps they are more inclined to omegas?

Other than taking care of the twins, Luke spends time with Helaena, who was getting bigger with each month, her stomach bulging to quite the size, and the kicks looking quite visible at times, which scared and intrigued Luke. The babe aside, Helaena was still quite normal, or about as normal as Helaena could be. Luke enjoyed talking to her, though her words were often confusing, he enjoys the bright look in her eyes when he manages to translate some of her words. She speaks in riddles, can't seem to stop, so it felt very rewarding whenever he managed to guess what she meant.

The there was her brother (the younger one, not the one she's married to), who seemed really close to her with the amount of times he visited only to find both of them talking. When Luke tries to stand and bow, before leaving them to speak, he (prince Aemond) would stop him, saying he would simply wait until their discussions were over, before leaning on the wall, watching them. Luke doesn't really feel comfortable after that, so he would cut their meeting short, despite Helaena showing sadness, and leaving in a haste back to the twin's room.

Usually he would only see prince Aemond during those encounters, but lately, he has been seeing him everywhere. When he takes the children to the garden, he would be there, when he gets called by the Queen, he would just so happened to be there in the same hallway to accompany him, as they were going the same way. When he goes to the library to look for certain books he would read to the twins, he would magically appear at his side, willing to hold them for him. Now he knows this could be all be just a simple coincidence, but even one of the queen's guards told him not to be too close to the prince as it would be a greater sin as a septa.

So he does his best to be with another septa at all times. When he sees him at any time, he would suddenly remember he needed to do something, a snack he wished to make the twins, a book he accidentally left at the library, a certain insect they wished to see, and he would leave the other way, dragging the other septa with him.

This went on for weeks. He was a bit more agitated now, however, because when he opened his drawer next to his bed, he found that the herbs for suppressing heats weren't there. His was quite a special blend, his body being different from a female omega, and would take some time to make. He hesitantly told Helaena, who was most understanding, even giving him her own suppressant, hoping it would at least ease his pain. The Maester says he could make another batch, though it would take a few days to gather the ingredients needed. A few days he didn't have.

So there he was, in his room, sweating profusely, the herbs given long gone. Helaena told him she has sent someone trustworthy to watch over him, and to guard the door to other unmarked alphas from barging into his room. He was immensely thankful, as this heat would be the first one outside the safety of the sept.

When he felt the worse was over, though still groggy, he opened the door for a little while to ask for some food and water. What he got was a slap in the face as a fairly familiar scent wafted through causing his symptoms to return. He quickly slammed the door and groaned, returning to his bed for comfort.

Of course Helaena asked Prince Aemond to watch over his door.

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(so, I'm back to writing again 🥳 might take it a bit slow though, writer's block is still there. Hope you guys enjoy this in the mean time🤗)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Whisked Away 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a job at a bakery but your new boss only adds to your work

Character: chubby!baker!Thor

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

Delaney wishes you good luck as you go. Your heart is fluttery with nerves. It’s been a while since you actually had an interview. These days, most send you a link where you record yourself answering generalised questions. You never do well at those. In fact, you’d only ever had one job.  

You worked at a cafe in high school and after you went and got your culinary schooling done, you were promoted. It held you through the first few years of your twenties until Delaney got sick and you had to move to the city for her treatment. Your squirreled away savings got you the apartment and her stipend helped, but you’re running dry on credit. 

You need this. Desperately. But you can’t show that if you want it. You have to play it cool. Be a professional. 

You catch a streetcar down to the main row and check your phone. You’re well ahead of time. Good. You’ve never been to this particular place. You don’t go out much if it isn’t to the grocery store or the pharmacy. Delaney stopped wanting to go outside a while back. You try to encourage her but you can tell it only makes her feel worse. 

You follow the map directions on the app and stop before the cafe windows. They’re slightly tinted with curling golden calligraphy painted across them; Golden Crust. The facade is brown and yellow brick and there are flower boxes just below the windows. Behind the glass, loaves of bread lines a shelf, on display to tempt passerbys. 

The door is wide and thick and painted red. You push inside and pause to look around. The long counter is made of dark wood with clear glass cases on top containing dozens of colourful and sugary desserts. Behind the counter, the walls are lined with shelves; some ingredients, some with unfolded boxes, and more bread and packaged biscuits to go. It’s all finely organized. 

Lights hang above with brass shades, lending a low hue to the shop. Several customers wait in queue as two employees work tills at opposite ends of the counter. You don’t know whether you should join the wait or go ahead and let them know that you’re there to see Thor for an interview. That was his name, right? 

You look at your phone again. You have time. You wouldn’t want to be rude. You adjust your bag and stand at the end of the line. The women ahead of you marvel at the pristine mini white chocolate cakes with dark candied cherries on top as another whispers about cheesecake being devilish. Your own eyes wander gluttonously to the assortment. 

You peel away your gaze and look down at yourself. You put together the best you could; a striped blouse, navy blue on white, and a pair of straight-legged pants. They’re a bit outdated but professional at a glance. You hope no one notices the scuff on your right toe. 

You get to the front of the line and step up. The young girl behind the till asks what you’d like. You give an apologetic smile, “um, actually, I’ve got an interview.” 

“Ah, yes, another one for Thor,” she chimes, “well, you just come with me.” 

She’s young. Still a teenager. Her and the other cashier look to be barely graduated if that. 

She walks toward the end of the counter and she beckons you over, “I’m Thrud,” she pulls back the short little door for you to step through, “that’s Nari,” she gestures to the dark-haired worker at the other till. He’s too busy taking orders to notice. 

You introduce yourself as she takes you around to a doorway, “I think he’s just doing these in the kitchen. Last one ended early so...” she talks brightly as she bounds ahead of you like a happy puppy, “dad?” She calls as she enters the large kitchen. “Dad? I’ve got the next appointment.” 

Your anxiety spikes. You’re not the first or the last. The competition deflates your hopes even further. 

“Eh?” A deep grunt comes as head pops up from the other side of the large marble island. The man is so large his head hits one of the pans dangling from the ceiling rack. He rubs his brow and hisses, “sorry, I was just looking for my pen.” 

Thrud laughs as she crosses her arms. You notice the golden pen tucked behind his ear. She raises a hand, keeping her other arm folded, as she taps her temple. His brows arch and he feels around his wave locks and fishes out the pen. 

“Right,” he gives a sheepish look and wiggles it in triumph. 

“Anyhoo,” Thrud trills, “this is her.” 

“Thank you, Thrud,” he drones back. 

“Mhmm,” she turns and smiles at you again before she goes. 

“Uh,” you hesitate, unsure how to begin, “er,” you introduce yourself, once more “I have a resume on hand--” 

“No need,” he waves you off, “come, I try to keep these things straight to the point.” 

You near him and rest your hand on your bag, chewing your lip. 

“Wash your hands,” he directs you towards the sink, “you may put your things there.” He points to the empty counter on the other side of the deep metal sink. You put your bag there and scour your hands deliberately, taking your time as you scrub nails, knuckles, palms, every bit. You dry off on the towel he offers as you face him. 

“Here,” he gives you and apron, “would want you to make a mess. 

You tie on the apron as he turns and grabs a tray. There are half a dozen cookies on the sheet, some empty piping bags, nozzles, a bowl of icing and small tubes of food dye. You look between him and the cookies. 

“You may choose the design. You will decorate and I will ask questions, does that work for you?” 

“Um, sure,” you answer. It’s unexpected. “All six?” 

“All six,” he confirms and crosses his arms, making himself even broader. He is not only tall, but wide, and his apron does little to conceal his indulgence in sweets that gathers around his middle. 

“Okay,” you accept the challenge meekly. 

You step up to the marble island and take a moment. You twiddle your fingers nervously as you think. You don’t know what to do. You don’t want to go to simple. 

“Take your time, I’ll ask some questions and you can begin whenever you’re ready,” he assures, “so, you’re availability, it is flexibly? Our open ours are eight to six, but you are available on weekends?” 

“Yes,” you say as you set an idea in your head and read for the icing. You stir it with the wooden spoon, testing its consistency. “I have open availability most days.” 

“Most days?” He echoes. 

“Um, yes, I may have an appointment now and again.” 

“Oh, appointment?” 

“For my sister,” you explain, “but it wouldn’t get in the way, I'm sure.” 

You cringe. You’re already making yourself feel bad. 

“And so, you’ve had one previous role, what was included in that?” he asks. 

Only one... that can’t be good on paper. 

“I worked at a cafe. I was a barista for the first two years, then I was promoted to baker, and ended as assistant manager at the branch,” you explain as you fill one of the piping pages and fit the appropriate tip, “but I completed by culinary diploma while I was there.” 

“And after? What did you do? I see you’ve been out of work.” 

You’re quite as you lean over the cookies and start on the first one. Your idea is simple in premise but not in execution. Delaney loves to do cross-stitches, so that’s what you’ll do. First, the white grid and the lacing along the edges, then you’ll fill in the squares with all different colours to make the illusion of stitches. 

“I’ve been a caretaker to my sister,” you say quietly, “we only just moved here last year so I haven’t found much.” 

“And you would be able to work fulltime?” He asks. 

“Yes, she’s... she’s doing better now. I can do it,” you assure him as you keep your eyes on your precise lines. 

He’s quiet. You’re sweating. You just concentrate on the work. Maybe your answers aren’t the best but you hope your work is. You finish the crosshatching and look up. You find him watching your hands intently. As you pause, his blue eyes meet yours. He gives a smile. 

“Ha,” he scoffs, “my hands are too big.” He shows his thick fingers, “I can’t quiet get my lines that tight.” 

You nod and bow your head again. You’re not even done the first cookie. You have six to prove yourself. Six cookies to seal your fate. 

[skzwhoree]

"Yearn For Me"

Hello guys!!! My last Toji fanfic received loads of love, so I decided to write another anime fanfic.

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“Yearn for Me”

Starring : y/n and Gojou Saturo

Description: Gojou is the Model student in y/n’s University. When y/n miserably fails all her classes, she seeks for help from her senior Gojou Saturo who is popularly known as the “Dream Scholar”, Gojou accepts her request but on a rather… spicy condition.

Genre- Smut

Content Summary-  Sub!reader, dom!Gojou, University!au, praising, Overstimulation

word count: 1.7k

THE FOLLOWING IS NSFW CONTENT, VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

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This has been a recent fake scenario, and its eating my head, HELPP.

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“Not this again! I could’ve sworn I was gonna ace this paper!” but you did not.

Failing in an English paper has got to be one of the most embarrassing moments of your life, what was that all-nighter for? (you literally chatted with your friends online all night)

You teacher on the other hand was not very helpful was he? “y/n this is sickening, are you really trying to improve, because if this is your best, I would rather not see your worst.” It was a dead end. “I will not tolerate any more E’s from you, its either you pass my class or leave it” Dead. End.

The next day…

“Mina-chan, i suppose this is the end for me, this is the part where I sacrifice myself to the gods!” the entire cafeteria is staring at you as you bang your head on the snack table. “y/n you’re so dramatic, why don’t you take extra classes or something, save me from all your rants.” “Mina-chan so rude.” “or like ask a senior to help you out with the assignments”

“Mina-chan don’t you know all our seniors are stoners, all they know is how to smoke weed like a pro.” “Not all of them…” what does she mean by ‘not all of them’, the first thing you smell the second you enter a Year 3’s classroom is cannabis. “Gojou-san is a straight A student.”   That’s a new name.

“Who’s Gojou?” you ask Mina and her face is in complete shock. She even goes as far as to call you a mummy from the Egyptian era to not know who Gojou is. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? GOJOU IS THE EPITOME OF BEAUTY.” Who is this Gojou and why is mina going crazy about him, and if he was that beautiful and shiny and glamorous, why haven’t you seen him yet?

“Because he’s too intelligent to attend the lectures, he doesn’t come to the university often. But when he does.. it’s a sight to see” “Mina- Chan you’re so dumb, if he doesn’t come to the uni often, how will I ask him to tutor me?”

Well lucky for you. He was at the university that day, just came to submit some assignment in person because the professor insisted.

 “Y/N !!! is this your luck?? There he is!”

And wow. He was a tall man, broad shoulders, blue eyes covered with his transparent spec’s glass frame, white hair held back with a black band. His aura was magnetic, you felt pulled to him. But it wasn’t easy to just walk up to him and mention your request.

Because, wherever he went, women surrounded him. It was as if he was a celebrity, they clicked pictures with him and talked to him formally. He didn’t seem to be bothered, in fact he acted as if it was a normal occurrence for him.

But you were desperate and if to pass and get an A in your classes meant that you had to walk up to him and ask him to tutor you. You were going to do it.

“Excuse me Gojou-san!” Gojou turned as soon as he heard you call him. “Gojou-san?” he thought.

“Umm can I ask why you were running towards me with that manic look on your face? Do you, by any chance, have any intentions of stabbing me?” he was amused, and his tone was rather slick. Not what you had expected. “N-NO! I – um – I had a request that only you can fulfill.”

He looked confused. Who would not be if you say something so blunt. “Just so you know, I don’t model, so if you’re from an agency, I refuse your offer.” With that he turned the other way and started walking. “What? No! Wait! I’m not from a modeling agency, Humble yourself. I am y/n from Year 2, you’re Gojou-San right?” -who does he think he is- “I think I am?” every word from his mouth was annoying. It was as if he knew he was amazing.

“I’ve heard you’re a straight A student, I’m actually really struggling with my assignments, I was hoping you could help me?” he looked interested immediately, “Sure, I’ll help you, but I take my tution fee in cash only.” Money? Fee? For a broke student like you, does he really think you can pay? “Fee?” you say with a startled tone. “Huh? No money? And you expect me to teach you, what do you think I am, a social worker?”

He started to walk away again, he sighed loudly saying something like “Do I look like a social worker? I think I need to fix my hair.”

 But you were desperate. “Wait! I don’t have money, But I’ll do anything! Please, I really have to pass my class!” He stopped. “Anything huh?”

“What do you mean anything?” he walked closer to you, with a smirk on his face. “umm yeah! I can get you morning coffee everyday, or like cook your favorite food for you, I’m a great cook actually and I could get your clothes dry cleaned for you. You know, like run errands for y-” he stopped you by placing his finger on your lips, “I have servants who do all that for me, how about you meet me in the library for our first class after uni today. I’ll take my payment after that.”

You went back to attend your classes, but something about the way he talked was bugging you. What could he possibly want as payment?

Later that day…

“WHAT?! HE AGGREED TO TUTOR YOU?” Mina yelled at the top of her voice, “SHHHH! Yes he did, we’re gonna study at the library in 5 mins”, And with that you rushed to the library, you didn’t want to be late and ruin your impression. When you reached he was already there, doing something on his phone, others at the library whispered to each other as they looked at him.

You waved to him when he looked at you, and he smirked. As you sat next to him, something that you wouldn’t have thought of in your entire life, happened.

He kissed you.

And the girls went crazy, there was an audible collective loud gasp. He kissed you deep and for once you tried to resist, but he hugged you tight so you couldn’t move. What is he doing? And why ?

After kissing you, He pulled back and started to take out books from his bag. “What? Aren’t you here to study?” you were still too shocked to utter a word. “Are you shocked? Well, don’t be. This is how you’re gonna pay me. That kiss was an advance, I’ll take the rest of the payment for today after we finish.” This? Payment? “WHAT!” you yell in the lowest pitch you can “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, IF THIS WAS THE ADVANCE WHAT IS YOUR FULL PAYMENT?” you say, still in a whisper yell.

“don’t you get it? y/n, I want to fuck you.”

No way. “Wait! I can’t do that!” you were stunned and a little annoyed by his confidence. Who does he think he is, you can’t just let him fuck you. “well then, no lessons for you, can’t believe I wasted my time for this.” And just as he got up he said, “You know, after that kiss, no woman in this room is going to spare you. Too bad.” You look around to see girls looking at you furiously, after all you had just kissed the man of their dreams.

Fuck. Dead End.

Now you were forced to take lessons from him. “No WAIT!” he smirks yet again, “Changed ya mind?” he says as he turns towards you. fuck. This isn’t good.

He sits back down and continues to take the lesson he promised. Surprisingly he was a great teacher. You could tell he put in the effort. But the payment kept bugging you.

After the lesson, he stretched a little and waited for you to pack up your bag. He grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you towards him, just to whisper in your ear, “don’t be scared, this’ll be a deal to remember. I’ll make sure you remember.”

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You pant as Gojou surrounds you in his embrace. You’re skin to skin, his length fills you up deep, the windows of his car fog up. Gojou plants little kisses on your neck as you ride him in a slow pace. “Can’t go on, m tired!” Gojou rests back his head as he says, “I like seeing you troubled, want me to help you sweetheart?” another smirk on his face. “yess, please Gojou-san!” you beg, you couldn’t have wanted anything else than gojou to help you, the slow pace was killing you, your thighs were tired. “let Gojou help her little slutty new student” he says as he quickly has you laid on the car seat.

“c’mon, don’t go quiet on me, beg.”

“Please Gojou-San, fuck me, fuck me!” he thrusts into you once, it was a hard deep thrust, “please Gojou!” Another Thrust, and as you beg him like a prayer, he fucks into your hole hard. Your wallas squeeze him tight and he grunts into your ears.

Gojou bites your ears softly, then the back of your neck, your back, your shoulders. He says “I’ve never met someone who feels so good on my dick before” “its like you were made for me to ruin you” Gojou tugs on your hair, as he cums inside of you, his fluids mix with yours as you cum with him, your hole leaks and wets his car seats. Gojou falls onto you, his heaviness acting as a sense of comfort on your body.

And just as you thought it was over.

He thrusts into you again. “Gojou-San! Can’t take anymore!”

“What? Did you think my lessons were that cheap? I’m gonna go on till I fuck with your head”

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA that was it GUYS! Lmk if you want a part 2! BYE.