#the entertainment journalist does not

[indigovigilance]

"new job prospects"

I am about to have some words with an entertainment journalist out there.

This is not about Good Omens. I don't know what this is about. But it's not our show.

Literally the only thing they got right was the overwhelmingly positive reception, and yeah David Tennant was Doctor Who.

wait but can we talk about how jarring it is to read official news releases ab this show after marinating for months in the good omens fandom on tumblr?? like, i'll read something from an actual news site that goes,,, "Good Omens explores the dynamic between two unlikely friends--one angelic, one demonic--as they navigate their lives on Earth in the aftermath of a failed attempt to enact Armageddon. Throughout the course of the second season's six-episode run, Crowley (as played by Dr. Who's David Tennent) and Aziraphale (played by the delightful Michael Sheen of Prodigal Son) must face down power-hungry demons, unexpected visitors, and new job prospects, all while playing matchmaker for a couple of shopkeepers in the area. In the wake of an overwhelmingly positive reception from fans, there's discussion of an upcoming season 3."

and it's like,,, I-- WHAT??? is this how non-brainrotted individuals approach the story? did we even watch the same show???

cause meanwhile, for the past three months, we've all collectively been like,,,

we really truly are living in the eye of the hyperfixation hurricane, huh?

[amplexadversary]

Completely self indulgent post but here's one of the post-canon scenarios I have in my head for G Gundam.

Maybe skip this post if you don't like dark themes. Not all of what I've outlined is dark (most of it isn't), but I do cross the line past what appears in the show in regards to DG cells and abduction.

The shuffles all get roped into restoration projects on Earth between the 13th and 14th gundam fights, partially to have something to do alongside their training, partially out of inspiration by the common points of the Kasshus' and Master Asia's goals, and partially because netting their countries some decent publicity is likely to earn them favors during the Gundam Fight's off-years.

Sai is contacted by Kyral about an effort to clear out the infamous buildup of trash and cadavers on Everest; he wants Sai to leverage Neo China's help as something of a reparation kind of deal and Sai goes sure why not.

Sai recruits Argo because Bolt Gundam is built to withstand the cold, and he thinks Argo and Nastasha could help reverse engineer that quality to enable the use of their Gundams as both heavy work equipment and protection from the harsh environmental conditions that normally prevent this kind of operation.

George gets involved because someone he knows has a distant relative who died on the mountain a century ago, and they wanted him to check in with the forensics team on the project. This detail is important because eventually it becomes clear that there is a mystery to solve (that I myself haven't figured out all the details of yet but broadly know the setup and conclusion); DG-infected people are disappearing and not being investigated due to stigma. Our heroes are naturally going to be pissed about this, and will need an "in" with the field if they want to do anything about it.

First massively self-indulgent element: The forensics/body identification team inexplicably includes the real-world author Kathy Reichs, who somehow exists in this universe, and there's a little side bit about her having written a Bones book right before the 12th fight that featured a cooked cadaver found inside a gundam after entry into the Earth's atmosphere. There are a lot of weird coincidences in the book that parallel the DG incident, which creeps everyone out, but the similarities are merely born of the writer threading the needle of being believable and interesting in a way that became very true to life.

What does become relevant is when the Shuffles eventually meet up, she's able to explain the implications of a bunch of weird shit the fighters discovered (also Marie Louise read her book, and one of the in-universe liberties Reichs took writing about the gundams' black boxes that she explains in the afterword leads to ML realizing something important; that Neo Germany does not have its gundam's remains.)

While the Everest project is happening, Domon, Chibodee, and Allenby all want to continue their training somewhere on Earth, and receive a proposal from (an OC of mine who is) a historic preservationist (and an acquaintance of Allenby's): she has acquired the grounds of an abandoned castle in Europe* after submitting a plan to restore it, and needs to hire people to help with the labor.

*the castle is probably somewhere in Germany because I also want this pitch to have drama over Schwarz (pre-13th fight), Schwarz (Kyoji), and Schwarz (the next guy who was supposed to inherit the mask when the older ninja retired). Also Germany is fucking pretty.

In exchange for the help of the three gundam fighters, they and Rain get paid, plus room and board anywhere on the grounds, plus full access to the grounds and miles of sparsely-inhabited countryside for training purposes, and the privacy and ability to practice with their gundams that comes with being in the middle of fucking nowhere. Rain sets herself up to work a clinic in the next town over as well as practicing pro re nata wilderness medicine (I'm convinced every medic supporting the gundam fight would need to be able to do this.)

The group involved in the Castle project sticks around for a time, makes some good progress, and engage in occasional Shenanigans that come up when you put a bunch of weirdos in a Situation.

They aren't in town a lot save for Rain, but when they are they eventually start to pick up on gossip and news about the Mysterious Disappearances correlated with DG cell infection (as well as details that turn out to be important later). Eventually Rain brings this to Domon and Chibodees' attention and they decide that, yeah, this is tied to the DG, this is their problem, they should convene with the rest of the Shuffle Alliance about it.

Also of course Schwarz is involved because I'm the one writing this; the culprits' DG-tissue harvesting operation relies on having him captured and helpless, using cells from his body to "update" other victims' DG infections to a less aggressive strain. One thing I haven't decided is whether I want a reinstantiated Wong to head this shit, or make up my own morally bankrupt opportunistic asshole looking to twist the DG to their own benefits. I also need to decide where on the planet the center of all this insanity is, and it needs to be a place that isn't going to have any unfortunate implications (because that's a genuine risk with dark story elements)

... That's about as much as I have that is thought-out enough for me to explain. I return to thinking about this scenario a lot because it puts most of the characters way out of their element (and has a bunch of details that appeal to me specifically), and it kind of evolved into an incomplete plot outline that I don't currently have any plans to flesh out.

I think it's an interesting enough direction to go, because it follows through with a lot of the themes present in G, but takes advantage of the genre shift to avoid DBZ-crazy power scaling and adjusts the conflict more to a matter of where the main characters' prowess is most effective (Both in and out of the gundams. I'm assuming there are a ton of guys similar to Michelo's gang that just need fighting interspersed with everything else I described. In fact, kicking Some Group of Douchebags out of their protection racket is probably how team Castle even gets ahold of evidence related to missing persons.)

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

literally just. cannot stop thinking about s1 trent getting kissed absolutely senseless by ted

[rawliverandgoronspice]

.

genuinely pretty disheartened that my passionate rants about marriage and conformity in the zelda series, and the risk of regression that could still be subverted since subversion is in the series' dna, became "zelda isn't here in the game and link must save her in the end :(" and saying it's what disappointed me in totk

like I get you have limited space but come on

[lycastanne]

pro-hero!bakugou is so busy, as expected since he's a hero after all. a great one at that. he avoids relationships, because he's aware about how he cant properly manage his time. he wont go around giving hopes to people, he is a straight forward man.

but fuck, when he sees you in some movie premiere which his friend acts in, he really wants to try commit a relationship with you.

you're a journalist, he noticed from the mic you held and the logo around it. ah, you work for a big entertainment media or magazine? he's not sure. your body language shows that you're confident, he likes that.

he didn't even realize when you start talking to him.

“mr. dynamight, im (name) (last name) from vogue. can we ask you questions regarding the movie?” you asked politely.

“tch, dont make me wait too long.” he said, keeping the nonchalant act.

you gestures to your cameraman partner to get ready. once the camera is ready, you start to introduce yourself and him. he watches you with a small smirk, clearly enjoying this.

“dynamight, we hear that you're not a big fan of romcom movies, is that true? does this movie change your perspective of romcom movies?”

“yes.”

you furrowed your brows, confused.

“okay... moving on, who's the first one that comes to your mind when you hear 'queen or king of romcom'?”

“julia roberts. i think.” there's a questionable pause.

“i love her too! especially in notting hill. i watched notting hill when i was 14 and since then library date is my dream date.” you rambles, all giggly and smiley.

“have you been to one?”

“hm? im sorry?”

“the library date, i can take you. if you want to i guess.” his tone isn't exactly friendly but his reddened cheeks makes you realize that he doesn't mean it the mean way.

“id love to, y- yes— oh my god.” you stutter.

“i have to have your number then.”

since you don't carry your business card and there's only a pen, bakugou let you write your number on his arm.

“good, call you later, dollface.” within a blink he's gone.

your flabbergasted face is the only thing you could muster.

“is the camera still on?”

“its live.”

[lilacgaby]

prohero!katsuki, who on his day off just wants to run some errands with his wife and daughter.

the only problem? your daughter hates the hoodie he has to wear to cover his hair and keep the paparazzi off of you three.

she'll always get upset in his arms, pouty and whiny as she tries to pull off the hood and expose his glorious hair to the world.

he'll do everything he can to soothe her in other ways, boop her nose the way he does before she goes to bed, bounce her around in his arms, give her a kiss on the cheek. it was really funny for you to watch your buff, tall husband panic more over making your daughter happy than beat literal villains.

but none of it works. you've just grabbed the orange juice when you notice katsuki scouting the area for others, when he pulls off his hood, immediately making your daughter giggle with glee.

he plays peek-a-boo with his hair, it keeps her entertained as you finally finish up the shopping, grabbing katsuki's protein powder and the baby treats that he'd snack on with her.

you pay, with katsuki's black card of course, and walk out the store, him holding her in one arm as he holds your hand, caressing it with his thumb.

mission success, until his daughter is finally within reach to pull off his hoodie, almost summoning the media as you're suddenly swarmed with journalists and cameras in your faces.

baby- 1 katsuki- 0

similar read!

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[joemama-2]

┊ ❛ ❛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 ❜ ❜ ┊

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: as an ambitious journalist, you’re determined to keep your cool while interviewing Gojo Satoru, the entertainment world’s most magnetic star. but his playful smirks and flirtatious banter make it impossible to ignore the spark simmering between you. when he leans in and invites you to his private room, you tell yourself it’s all part of the job—until the dressing room door closes, and the air grows heavy with unspoken possibilities. his touch is casual but lingers just long enough to make your pulse race, and his whispered promises are as intoxicating as the man himself. tonight, you’ll learn there’s a difference between getting the story and being part of it.

wc: 9.9k

tags/warnings: smut, slight praise, vaginal penetration, pussy eating, cursing, missionary, nipple sucking

Tonight’s a night of luxury, fine wine, expensive clothing, flashes, kisses being shared, awards handed out, and best of all…the interviews. 

You’re up and coming, still considered a newbie in the world of journalism even though you have been doing this for almost a year now. But compared to your other counterparts who have years of experience, you understand why. A bright, young face with a compelling aura that just draws people in. Every celebrity you’ve met has come up to you afterward to just rave on about how nice it was talking to you, how authentic it felt. And that’s what you aim for all the time. 

At the end of the day, these are real people and a lot of the media seems to forget that. When you’re interviewing them, you don’t want it to seem like a forced meet-up with an intrusive journalist. No, you want it to be like they’re talking to a friend. You want things to just flow smoothly—naturally. You’ve even exchanged numbers with a few of them, waving and delivering a small hug as they pass you on the red carpet to pose for pictures. 

It’s a strategy that’s worked wonders for you, and tonight, you’re counting on it to carry you through what might be the biggest interview of your career. Gojo Satoru, the golden boy of the entertainment industry, is notoriously hard to pin down—charming one moment, evasive the next. The man oozes confidence, with his piercing blue eyes and a devil-may-care attitude that has the world wrapped around his finger. A brilliant actor, dancer, and singer. A literal triple threat. The man is good at everything he does. And he looks damn good while doing it. 

Your editor’s words echo in your head as you adjust your press badge: “Get something different. Something memorable. Everyone’s heard the same old answers from him.” Easier said than done when the man is practically untouchable, his responses carefully curated to keep people guessing. You would’ve assumed his media training would be on point, considering he’s been a household name since he was just an infant. 

A true nepo baby. 

There’s a microphone in hand, your camera man, Ito, stood beside you. You glance at him, having to lean in slightly over the buzz of other chatter, photographers telling whatever celebrity to move right or left, other interviews being conducted, the whole sha-bang. “You ready for this?”

The younger man nods with a goofy smile and throws a thumbs-up. “You know it.”

“Remember, get my good side.”

“Every side is your good side, Ms. Y/N.”

You wave him off and swivel your head back around. Titling it as you lift up on your tip-toes for any sign of the snowy haired man. Nope, not here yet. You sigh and drop back down to normal height, anxiously twirling the microphone in your hand. You’re wearing a simple, but elegant black dress. Silk with no sleeves and the back is cut out—still modest enough to now outshine the real important people of tonight. You’ve paired it with gold jewelry, your hair down and tamed, with tiny black heels. Fine makeup with a red lip to top it off. 

“He’s not here yet. Let me guess,” you murmur to Ito, keeping your voice low. “He’s going to be late, sweep in like he owns the place, and flash that million-dollar smile that makes everyone forget they’ve been waiting.”  

Ito snorts, adjusting the camera. “You mean the Gojo Satoru trademark entrance? Yeah, sounds about right. At least he’s consistent.”  

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of nerves in your chest. You always get nervous but this time, it feels a little extra. He may not even stop for you, don’t get your hopes up.

Gojo’s reputation precedes him, and while you pride yourself on keeping your cool, you’re not immune to his charm. The last thing you need is to fall into the same trap as every other reporter who’s walked away from an interview with stars in their eyes and nothing of substance to show for it. 

Scanning the area, you catch sight of a commotion near the entrance, the buzz growing louder. And then you see him.  

He’s impossible to miss, standing tall and radiant in a custom black suit that hugs him in all the right places, his albino hair tousled just enough to look effortless. His sunglasses—because of course he’s wearing sunglasses to a fancy event—sit perched on the bridge of his nose, only barely hiding those infamous blue eyes. He’s laughing at something someone said, his presence magnetic enough to pull all attention his way without even trying. His manager, Nanami Kento, walks with him. Occasionally muttering something in Satoru’s ear with his certified stony expression. 

“Showtime,” Ito mutters, lifting the camera.  

You take a deep breath, straightening your posture. You got this, you got this. He’s not the only charming one. Plastering a big, warm smile. You begin your stride over, hellbent on capturing his attention. 

He and his manager are walking down the carpet, already ignoring the reporters that call out his name like he’s some sort of god. Satoru occasionally smiles for a few of the cameras as most of the other actors are silently making room for him on the red carpet. Once he’s done with his pictures, he’s heading inside the venue. Then you’ll lose your chance. So, you have to catch him before he does. 

You quicken your pace, moving with purpose. Weaving through the small crowd as Ito is practically stumbling over his feet to follow you. Chin tilting up and raising your voice loud enough so he can hear. “Gojo Satoru, a quick word, please,” you call out, your voice carrying through the crowd, smooth and confident despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

And as if on cue, Gojo’s head turns ever so slightly in your direction. That was quick. Maybe it’s the fact that you reiterated your call out to him as more of a statement than an annoying plea. You don’t hesitate, smiling and judging Ito to begin filming. You can already see the glint of his pearly whites, the blue twinkle in his pearly eyes that makes women and men alike swoon. He lifts his glasses down slightly like he’s getting a better look at you. His manager is tugging a bit on his elbow to keep him moving, but he simply yanks it out his hold and strides over to you with that trademark grin. As he makes his way toward you, every step exuding confidence, you remind yourself of your goal: keep it professional, keep it memorable, and don’t let him get under your skin.  

Some of the other journalists must think they finally have their shot with him, only for their hopes and dreams to be shattered when he approaches you instead. You shuffle closer to him, sparing a quick glance at the camera to ensure it’s rolling before craning your neck up at the man himself. 

“Gojo Satoru,” you greet him, flashing your most practiced smile as he stops in front of you. “Thank you very much for taking the time to chat. How’s your night so far?”  

He tilts his head, the lopsided smile on his face nothing short of mischievous. “Even better now,” he says smoothly, his voice low enough to make your stomach flip.  

Oh, he’s good, you think, your grip tightening on the microphone. But so are you. So, this is how it’s going to be. Fine. You can play that game too. 

You force yourself to focus, keeping the conversation light and breezy despite the electric charge in the air between you. “Glad to hear that. I’m sure you’re used to all the attention by now, but do you ever get nervous before big events like this?” you ask, leaning in slightly as if you’re just two people having a casual chat.

He chuckles, a sound that almost feels too intimate for the public space you’re standing in. “I thrive on it,” Gojo replies, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze both teasing and intense. “You know, it’s all part of the game. The bigger the crowd, the more I shine.”

You smile, impressed by his confidence but careful not to let it throw you off your rhythm. “And yet, you still manage to make it look effortless.” You tilt your head slightly, playing along, knowing how easily the conversation could turn into one of those meaningless exchanges. “Is there anything you don’t do effortlessly?”

His lips quirk upwards, that signature grin spreading across his face. “Maybe one thing,” he says, his tone dipping lower, sending a shiver through you. He pauses, his eyes scanning you briefly before locking back onto yours. “But I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

The air between you two thickens, the words laced with double meaning. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but you refuse to let it show. He’s toying with you, but this is your interview, and you’re not about to let him steal the spotlight. Not just yet.

Clearing your throat, you switch the topic. “So, you’re being nominated Best Actor for your show ‘Jujutsu Kaisen’.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the direction you’ve taken. “I wouldn’t say ‘nominated,’” he teases, his eyes sparkling with that signature arrogance. “I’m going to win, obviously. But it’s nice to be recognized by the industry.”

You nod, the banter light, but the tension lingering in the air between you two keeps your mind spinning. You can’t help but wonder if he’s as confident off-screen as he is in front of the cameras. Before you can ask him to elaborate on his confidence, Gojo steps closer, his proximity sending a wave of warmth through you. “So you believe you’ll win this award, no doubt?”

“No doubt.”

“That’s very confident of you.” You chuckle. 

Gojo’s lips curl into a smile, his blue eyes never leaving yours as if he’s savoring the moment. “Confidence is key but also very underrated,” he replies, his tone playful but with an edge of something more intense. He leans in just slightly, enough that you can smell the subtle cologne he’s wearing, clean and fresh with a hint of spice. “Besides,” he adds, his voice dropping lower, “when you’re as good as I am, it’s hard not to be confident. And I mean, a lot of people are too afraid to show they know what they’re capable of. But me? I’ve got nothing to hide. I know exactly what I bring to the table.”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to let your smile slip into something more flirtatious. But his words have an effect—something in you shifts, intrigued and undeniably drawn to his arrogance. "So, you don’t think anyone’s competition?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, testing the waters.

Gojo's lips curve tighter into a knowing smile, a flash of teasing flickering in his eyes. "Competition?" he echoes, his voice thick with challenge. "There’s no competition when you’re in a league of your own.”

You swallow, trying to maintain your composure despite the growing heat between you. “I can see that,” you respond, your voice just a little steadier than you feel. “But what’s your secret? How do you manage to stay so… sure of yourself?”

Gojo chuckles, the sound smooth and low, as he runs a hand through his messy white hair. He looks around briefly, as though assessing the situation, before his eyes lock back onto yours. “It’s not about being sure of myself,” he says with a tilt to his tone, his words carrying an underlying promise. “It’s about knowing I can make anything work. Whether it’s acting, dancing, or…” He trails off, his gaze flickering briefly down your figure before snapping back to your eyes. He chuckles charmingly.  

The moment hangs between you two, the air crackling with an undeniable charge. You feel your pulse quicken, but you force yourself to stay focused on the interview. “Well, I’m sure a lot of people would love to know how you make it all look so effortless,” you respond, keeping your voice neutral. “Any advice for those of us who aren’t quite as… naturally gifted?”

Gojo’s grin widens, and for a brief second, you swear you can see a flicker of something more in his eyes. “It’s not just about talent,” he says, leaning in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate level. “It’s about owning the moment, owning the space you’re in. You have to make people believe in you, even if you don’t always believe in yourself.” His intonation is almost hypnotic, and you can feel the pull of his words.

Your breath catches, but you can’t let him see how he’s affecting you. “Sounds like a lot of pressure,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation light. “How do you handle all that weight?”

Gojo’s expression shifts, his playful grin faltering for just a second, his presence overwhelming. “Pressure’s nothing,” he says, his eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your skin tingle. “If you’re not feeling it, you’re not doing it right.”

Before you can respond, the sound of a camera shutter clicks in the background, reminding you of the reality of the situation. You’re still in the middle of a crowded red carpet, surrounded by flashing lights and the buzz of other reporters. But somehow, standing so close to him, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the world.

His eyes soften for a moment, like he’s sensing the shift in the air between you. “But hey,” he adds, his tone playful again as he steps back slightly, breaking the moment, “don’t worry. I’ll make sure to win this award for the both of us. Maybe then you can interview me again… under better circumstances.”

You smile, lightly huffing a small chortle as Ito lowers the camera and stops rolling. Nanami begins tugging on Satoru’s sleeve again, attempting to urge the man to walk forward. But Satoru doesn’t budge, leaning down close to your ear. The suddenness causes you to gasp a little, body tensing before leaning closer to hear what he has to say. 

“I have a room nearby. Take a left at the end of the carpet, then a right past the VIP lounge, can’t miss it. If you want, I’d be glad to answer more of your questions once I have my award.”

He’s pulling back and looking away, strutting down the carpet before you can even process what just happened. Eyes wide and lips parted, you slowly look over at Ito who gives you an equally baffled expression. “That was…something. I felt the tension even behind the camera.”

You shake your head and regain your bearings, hitting his arm. He dramatically lets out a huff and rubs the spot. “Don’t be stupid, that’s just how he is.”

“Well, yeah. But it seemed extra with you.”

Your lips purse, eyes flickering over to where an enormous space has been made for the man himself to pose for every single camera aimed at him in every pose possible. If you didn’t find him attractive, you would’ve been annoyed by his arrogance—his cockiness. But maybe that’s what you like about him, in some weird way. At least he has the looks to go with his loud personality. “Are you gonna…go?” Ino asks. 

You hesitate, unsure of whether yes or no would be the most appropriate answer in this case. Hell, that entire little thing seemed the exact opposite of appropriate. You remind yourself that that’s just how he is. However, you still haven’t gotten a good enough word from him and that tiny, maybe two minute interview will no doubt be overlooked from your boss. 

Something different, something more. 

And so that’s how you’ve landed yourself in this precarious situation in the first place. It’s late—around twelve in the morning. And this supposed ‘meet-up’ feels more like a booty call than anything else. You won’t voice that thought aloud, of course. He’s sitting on the cuck chair in the corner of his…dressing room? It feels more like a five star hotel room. You’ve taken purchase on the edge of the bed inside, hands tucked into your lap. You’ve opted out of the dress you wore for the event, landing on a simple tee and jeans. Your recorder beside you, with your notebook and pen placed underneath your hands. 

He’s just been eating. 

Eating carelessly. 

It’s already been close to twenty minutes and you don’t know when you should bring up the whole reason you’re even here for. After a few more grueling seconds, the air having been filled with his loud chewing far longer than you have patience for. You clear your throat. “Um…Mr. Gojo? Do you mind if we—”

“Have you ever had Mediterranean food?” He cuts you off, jabbing his white plastic fork in your direction. 

Your eyes flick to the fork in his hand, then back to his face. The man looks completely unbothered, leaning back in his chair as though he has all the time in the world. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed casually at the ankles, and his tie is now undone, the top buttons of his shirt popped open. He’s the picture of relaxed arrogance, and it’s both infuriating and—annoyingly—endearing.  

“Uh, yeah,” you say hesitantly, thrown off by the abrupt change in topic. “Once or twice.”  

He hums, jabbing his fork into another piece of grilled chicken and popping it into his mouth. “Then you’re missing out. There’s this place down the street? Incredible. You’ve gotta try it. I’ll have them send some up next time you’re around.”  

You blink at him, unsure how to respond. Is he really talking about food right now? After inviting you here in the middle of the night and keeping you waiting for nearly half an hour while he scarfs down a late-night feast? And is he trying to hint at another rendezvous? Yeah fucking right. Your fingers tighten slightly around your notebook, the patience you’ve been clinging to starting to wear thin. “Right,” you try again, keeping your voice steady, “I appreciate the recommendation, but I was hoping we could get back to the interview. So may we—”

“But you get it, right?” he says, leaning back in the chair, his legs spread out wider, his posture entirely too relaxed for someone in the middle of an impromptu midnight interview. “It’s addictive. This hummus? Unreal. Whoever catered tonight deserves an award more than I do.”

You thin your lips, unsure whether to laugh or remind him why you’re actually here. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you say diplomatically, gesturing to the plate in his hand. “But I was hoping we could, you know, get started?”

Gojo hums thoughtfully, scooping up another bite with his fork. “You’re right,” he concedes, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggests otherwise. “But here’s the thing—you can’t do an interview on an empty stomach. Or when the food’s this good.”

You sigh, biting back a retort as he takes another slow, deliberate bite, chewing like he has all the time in the world. “Mr. Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he corrects, grinning as he sets the plate down on the small table beside him. He wipes his hands on a napkin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he meets your gaze. “We’re not on the red carpet anymore. Call me Satoru.” 

His sudden shift in demeanor catches you off guard, the playful air taking on a more serious edge. You glance at your recorder, then back at him, your pulse quickening. “Alright, Satoru,” you say carefully, your fingers tightening around your pen. “Let’s make this count.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly as if daring you to keep up. “Oh, don’t worry,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “I always do.”

You nod and fumble for a moment before flipping open your notebook. “Ah, well, I was hoping to dive a little deeper into your creative process—how you approach roles and what inspires you.”  

Gojo leans back again, the smirk never leaving his face. “My creative process, huh? That’s such a professional way of asking how I make the magic happen.” He chuckles, his gaze flicking over you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “But I’ll bite. It all starts with... you.”  

You freeze, brows furrowing. You don’t know if he’s teasing you or if he’s just being his usual cocky self. “Me?” you manage to say, trying to keep your composure.  

“Not you specifically,” he clarifies, though the playful glint in his eyes suggests otherwise. “But someone like you. Someone intriguing, who makes me want to figure out what makes them tick. That’s where I find inspiration.”  

The air in the room shifts, the casual atmosphere taking on a sharper edge. You’re getting a little annoyed at the fact that he’s answering the question but also trying to throw you off balance. Either way, you’re determined not to let him see you lose composure.  

“That’s interesting,” you respond, forcing a smile as you jot something down in your notebook, “Is there any way you can elaborate?.”  

His laughter fills the room, low and rich. “Isn’t that what I just did?” he teases, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. His fingers drum lightly on the arm of the chair as he watches you, a predator sizing up its prey. “I thought I was being pretty clear. Inspiration comes from people—complex, messy, fascinating people.”  

That sounds like an insult. You tap your pen against your notebook, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Right, but I was hoping for specifics,” you respond, doing your best to keep your tone professional despite his relentless charm. “How do you translate that into a character? What’s the first step you take when preparing for a role?”  

Gojo leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, and suddenly the air between you feels far too tight. “The first step?” he echoes, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “I find the humanity in them. Even in the villains, the assholes, the broken ones. There’s always something real there, something raw. That’s what I latch onto.”  

You nod, quickly jotting down his words even as your pulse quickens. He’s finally giving you something substantive, and yet the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to focus. “That’s... an interesting perspective,” you manage, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “So you try to connect with the character on a personal level?”  

“Exactly,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “It’s like peeling back layers, you know? Finding the parts of them that no one else sees. The parts they try to hide.”  

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and you can’t help but feel like he’s talking about more than just acting. You glance up at him, and the way he’s watching you—like he’s peeling back your layers—sends a shiver down your spine.  

“I see,” you say, clearing your throat in an attempt to break the tension, “that certainly explains why your performances feel so authentic. You make it sound almost... personal.”  

“It is personal,” he replies, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Every role I take on, every scene I play—it’s all personal. That’s why people connect with it. They see themselves in it.”  

You can’t help but be impressed, even as his words unsettle you. He’s infuriatingly good at this—at keeping you on your toes, at blurring the line between sincerity and seduction. But you’re not about to let him derail you. Not when you’ve finally gotten him to open up.  

“Do you ever find it difficult to separate yourself from the characters you play?” you ask, leaning forward slightly despite yourself. He sees this, scooting his chair closer subtly.   

Gojo’s smile widens, and for a moment, he looks almost amused. “Now that’s a good question,” he says, his tone laced with approval. “But the answer? No. I don’t separate myself from them. That’s the whole point. If I did, it wouldn’t be real.”  

His response leaves you momentarily speechless, and he seems to relish the effect he’s having on you. “Anything else you want to know?” he prompts, his grin turning devilish. “Or are you ready to call it a night?”  

Your grip tightens on your pen, and you force yourself to sit up straighter, refusing to let him see you flustered. “I’ve still got a few more questions,” you say firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. “If you’re up for it.”  

“Oh, I’m always up for it,” he quips, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and captivating. “Hit me with your best shot.”

With another nod, you look up from jotting your notes to see him sliding his rings off his slender fingers. For a moment, you do nothing but focus on the paleness of the digits. You remember him saying in an interview how his fingers were six inches long. You thought he was joking no doubt, doing it all for his thirsty fangirls. But now that you’re looking at them in person…he was actually telling the truth. Your gaze slides up to his forearms that are revealed from his messy, cuffed-up sleeves. Then they travel down his fingers to his small waist, finally to his thighs. Mentally cursing yourself, you glance back at his fingers that flex freely once they’re free from the constraints of the metal. You gulp down the dryness in your throat, an intrusive thought sneaking way into your brain—wondering about what it would feel like if they were—

“A little shameless of you.” He chuckles. 

His voice snaps your eyes back up to his. You recognize the playful glint in them, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I—sorry. That’s inappropriate of me.”

Gojo leans forward for the nth time, resting his elbows on his knees as his lips curve into a smug grin. “Oh, don’t apologize,” he drawls, his tone oozing amusement. “I’m flattered, really. Most people just stare at my face—nice to know my hands are getting the attention they deserve.”  

You let out a nervous laugh, gripping your pen tighter to ground yourself. “Um…it’s not like that,” you protest weakly, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “I was just... lost in thought.”  

“Lost in thought, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening as though he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. “Thinking about anything particular?”  

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, you forget how to respond. His gaze is too sharp, too knowing, like he’s reading the very thought you’d just shoved to the deepest recess of your mind. “Just about the interview,” you manage to say, your voice smoother than you expected. “I was trying to figure out how to phrase my next question.”  

“Sure you were,” he teases, leaning back again and sliding his hands into his pockets. The movement draws your attention to the way his pale blue button-up shirt stretches over his broad chest, and you quickly force your eyes back to his face before he can catch you staring again.  

“I was,” you insist, determined to salvage what’s left of your dignity. You clear your throat and flip to a fresh page in your notebook, desperate to steer the conversation back to safer territory. “Now, about your approach to emotional scenes—how do you tap into those raw feelings on set?”  

Gojo chuckles, clearly enjoying the way you’re scrambling to regain control of the conversation. “Ah, so we’re back to work now? Alright, I’ll play along.” He taps his chin thoughtfully, the playful edge in his expression softening just a fraction. “Emotional scenes are all about honesty. You can’t fake it—not if you want the audience to feel it. You have to find something real, something that hurts, and let it bleed into the performance.”  

His answer catches you off guard with its sincerity, and for a moment, you forget your embarrassment entirely. “Something real?” you echo, bending forward slightly. “So you draw from personal experiences?”  

“Sometimes,” he admits, his voice lower now, more serious. “Other times, I imagine what it would be like to lose something—or someone—I care about.” His eyes darken briefly, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face before it’s gone, replaced by his usual cocky smirk. “But enough about me. It’s always about me, what about you, hm?”  

You blink. “About me? I’m sorry but… I only came here to ask you questions.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, scooting closer in his chair. “Exactly,” he says, waving a hand lazily. “It’s always about me. The questions, the cameras, the lights. Don’t you think that gets boring?”  

You tilt your head, once again caught off guard. “I... can’t imagine someone like you ever finding the spotlight boring,” you reply carefully, unsure of where he’s steering the conversation.  

He grins, a little too self-satisfied. “Fair point. I do wear it well, don’t I? But that doesn’t mean I don’t get curious. You sit here with your little notebook, all professional and serious. But who are you when the recorder’s off? What makes you tick?”  

The shift in focus has your defenses rising, and you straighten your back slightly. “I’m not the one being interviewed, Mr.—Satoru,” you correct yourself when his grin widens at your formality.  

“No,” he says, tilting his head and giving you a once-over that feels far too perceptive. “But doesn’t mean I can’t ask, does it?”  

You let out a nervous laugh, holding your notebook a little closer. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”  

“Rules are boring,” he replies smoothly, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you. His voice drops slightly, his tone more teasing than serious. “Come on, throw me a bone. A favorite movie, a weird hobby, your go-to midnight snack. Something.”  

You hesitate, his gaze pinning you in place. It’s not like you have anything to hide, but the sudden spotlight feels unnerving. “Midnight snack?” you echo, deciding to humor him for the sake of moving things along.  

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes lighting up like you’ve just agreed to a game only he knows the rules to. “You know, since you’re obviously not here for Mediterranean food. What do you eat when you’re burning the midnight oil?”  

You press your lips together, trying not to smile despite yourself. “Popcorn,” you admit finally. “Plain, with just a little salt.”  

“Popcorn?” He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued. “Huh. Kind of classic, but I can respect it. Guess I’ll have to stock up before our next late-night chat.”  

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks warm at his casual mention of a “next time.” “I wouldn’t count on that,” you say dryly, but he only smirks, clearly not taking you seriously.  

“We’ll see,” he says, leaning back again and waving a hand. “Alright, you’ve indulged me. Ask away again. I’m all yours.”  

The shift back to the original topic throws you off balance, but you take the opportunity and flip open your notebook, determined to keep the upper hand this time. “Great. Let’s get back to your latest role then—”  

“But popcorn, huh?” he interrupts, clearly not ready to let it go. “You don’t strike me as a plain kind of person.”  

Your pen pauses mid-note, and you give him a pointed look. “Do you always talk this much during interviews?”  

He grins, unapologetic. “Only when I’m having fun.”

You sigh, setting your pen down and narrowing your eyes at him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrays your annoyance. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a professional, you’re awfully good at derailing conversations.”  

Gojo smirks, he fixes you with that signature, infuriatingly confident gaze. “What can I say? I like keeping things interesting.” His voice dips just slightly, low and teasing, and the way his eyes sweep over you feels more deliberate now, more pointed and slower. Like he’s appreciative. “But if I’m being honest… I don’t mind the view either.”  

Your breath hitches, his words make your stomach jump. “The view?” you manage, your voice more balanced than you. 

He cocks his head, his smirk widening. “You,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Sitting there, all serious and composed, trying so hard to keep this professional. But I see the way you look at me.”  

Your heart stutters, your cheeks flushing hot. “I’m not—”  

“Oh, you are,” he interrupts, his grin turning wolfish. “First my fingers,” he flutters his digits in a wavy motion.  “Then my thighs,” he pats his lap.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice, sweetheart.”  

Your jaw drops slightly, heat creeping down your neck. “I was not—”  

“Sure you weren’t,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair and stretching, his shirt pulling just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. His voice lowers, smooth as silk. “But if you want to keep staring, I won’t stop you.”  

You swallow hard, gripping your notebook like it’s a lifeline. “Mr. Gojo, I don’t think this is appropriate.”  

“Satoru,” he corrects, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “And who’s being inappropriate? I’m just making an observation.” He leans forward again, his voice dropping to a near whisper, intimate and teasing. “Besides, don’t you think it’s a little unfair? You get to ask me all these personal questions, but I can’t ask any about you?”  

You shift in your seat, your pulse racing. “That’s not how interviews work.”  

“Maybe not,” he murmurs, his gaze darkening slightly as it locks onto yours. “But we’re not exactly following the rules, are we?”  

The tension in the room thickens, his words hanging in the air like a challenge. You glance at the door, a small voice in the back of your mind warning you to cut this short, but another part of you—one you’re desperately trying to ignore—is drawn to the way his eyes seem to drink you in, the way his voice wraps around you like a warm, dangerous promise.  

“I’m here to work,” you say finally, your voice firmer now, though it betrays a slight waver.  

“And I’m here to have a good time,” he counters, his smirk softening into something more intimate, more dangerous. “Who says we can’t do both?”  

You stare at him, your mind racing as you try to find the words to put an end to this—whatever this is—but he leans closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.  

“Tell me,” he says, his breath ghosting over your ear, “what’s the real reason you wanted to meet me tonight? Because I don’t think it’s just for an interview.” 

You force yourself to not visibly react and jolt from the way he’s reached into your personal space so nonchalantly. “Then you’re mistaken. Because I have no other reason to be here if you won’t comply.”

“Oh yeah?” He chortles, glancing down at his fingers that barely skim along your thigh. If possible, his smile widens at the little startled gasp that falls from your pretty lips. “You want me to comply? Comply in what way?”

“H-hey,” you reach out to grip his fingers, effectively stopping their ascent. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

When he pulls back enough, he stares into your eyes. It almost scares you just how blue they are up close. You don’t think you’ve ever seen something as majestic as them. Though saying that aloud will feed into his ego. 

He tilts his head slightly, his smile turning wicked, like a predator playing with its prey. “What do you think I’m doing?” he counters, voice dropping to a husky whisper. The air between you crackles, and despite yourself, your grip on his fingers falters, his warmth sinking into your skin like a brand.  

“Satoru,” you begin, your voice shaking ever so slightly, “this is highly inappropriate.”  

“Inappropriate?” he echoes, coming just a little closer, his lips quirking in amusement. “I was just trying to get comfortable. Didn’t realize I’d make you so flustered.”  

Your breath catches, his words striking a chord you’re not ready to acknowledge. “You’re awfully bold for someone who’s supposed to be answering questions,” you manage, your voice sharp despite the fluttering in your stomach.

“And you’re awfully composed for someone who’s blushing so much,” he counters smoothly, his eyes flicking to your cheeks.

“I’m not blushing,” you snap, your tone defensive.

“Of course not,” he replies, his smirk returning. “Just like you weren’t staring earlier.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you glare at him, attempting to regain control of the situation. “I’m not flustered either,” you retort, though your trembling fingers and flushed cheeks tell a different story.  

He chuckles, low and intimate, and it sends a shiver racing down your spine. “If you say so,” he murmurs, leaning back slightly but never taking his eyes off you. His fingers slip free from your grasp, but the ghost of their touch lingers, a reminder of just how easily he’s unraveled your composure.  

“You’re impossible,” you say, your tone sharp despite the unsteadiness in your chest.  

“And yet,” he counters, his grin softening into something more dangerous, “you’re still here.”  

You open your mouth to argue, to remind him that you’re here for work, but the words catch in your throat as he shifts again, this time resting his chin on his hand, his gaze trailing lazily over you.  

“You’re fascinating, you know that?” he says, almost to himself. “All buttoned up and professional, trying so hard to keep me in line. But I wonder…” His eyes flick to your lips, lingering for a heartbeat before meeting yours again. “What would it take to make you unravel?”  

You stiffen, the heat rushing through your body making it harder to maintain your composure. “You’re crossing a line,” you warn, though your voice is weaker than you’d like.  

“Am I?” he asks, his tone teasing but his gaze piercing, as if daring you to tell him to stop. “Or are you just afraid of what might happen if I keep going?”

Your eyes dart all across his face, heart rapidly beating, so much so you think it’ll pop out of your chest. And yet, you slowly look back down at the hand that was just touching you. You feel yourself giving in the longer you stare. 

He follows your gaze, then moves back up to your face. “You like them, don’t you?”

You nod, despite yourself. 

“Knew it,” he smoothly quips back. “Do you want to feel them again? Maybe for longer?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation, and you can’t seem to swallow the lump forming in your throat. Your mind races, torn between the desire to pull away and the undeniable pull he has on you. His words—his voice—are like a drug, wrapping around your thoughts, clouding your judgment.

You force yourself to meet his gaze, but the intensity there makes it harder to keep your composure. “You’re... bold,” you murmur, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

Gojo’s lips curl into a knowing smile. “Bold? Maybe. But I’m just asking what you want.” His tone is smooth, low, coaxing. “No need to be shy about it. You’ve been looking, haven’t you?”

Your eyes flicker briefly to his hand again before locking back on his face. His question seems almost too straightforward, too easy, and yet you can’t seem to lie. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the truth lingering just beneath the surface. “Maybe,” you admit softly, your voice a mix of hesitation and curiosity.

A soft chuckle escapes him, and his gaze sharpens. “Maybe isn’t an answer.” He leans in slightly, just enough to make your pulse spike. “Tell me, do you want to feel them again? Really feel them this time?” His voice drops to a near whisper, each word deliberate, measured.

You hold your breath, your entire body humming with uncertainty, but you can’t bring yourself to say no. The desire building within you makes your thoughts scatter, your defenses slipping away the longer you look at him. “I... don’t know,” you reply, the words barely audible.

Gojo watches you closely, his eyes darkening with something dangerous. “Mind if I find out for myself then?”

------

There’s a lot of things that you’ve never done in life. 

Skydiving, bungee jumping, going backpacking, and making out with an A-list celebrity who’s name holds so much power. Well, that last one you can cross off, actually. 

You really don’t know how things have changed so quickly and abruptly. One minute you’re writing down the answers to his questions and the next he’s on top of you. 

You don’t think you’ve ever made out with someone for this long. But it feels surpassingly really good. Maybe it’s the way he’s keeping things slow, but purposeful. His hands run along the sides of your body, occasionally gripping your hips or rising high enough to brush along under your breasts. His lips are expertly working your own, leaving you gasping for air when he pulls away for a few seconds before diving in like a starving man. His tongue prods inside your mouth, dancing along yours in a sultry dance. Rubbing it and sucking on it a few times. 

You feel him smile against your lips when the arms around his neck bring him in closer. 

The kiss deepens, and with each second, you're losing yourself more in the heat of the moment.

His body presses against yours, warm and firm, and the sensation is so overwhelming that you can't tell where you end and he begins. Every breath, every shift of his lips, ignites something inside of you that you can't ignore.

His hands are everywhere now, roaming with an insistent hunger, fingertips brushing over your skin like he's savoring every inch. The low groans he releases when you kiss him back only fuel the fire building between you. He's so confident, so sure of what he wants, and you're too far gone to stop him. The logical part of your brain—that small voice telling you to slow down—is drowned out by the intoxicating thrill of being here, of being with him.

Your hands find their way to his shirt, pulling it free from where it's tucked in, fingers trailing underneath and over the hard planes of his chest. You feel him tense for a moment, as if considering pulling away, but then his hands tighten around you, pulling you even closer. His lips are everywhere—on your neck, your jaw, your ears—each kiss leaving a trail of warmth that burns deeper into your skin.

You gasp when his teeth graze your collarbone, a quiet moan slipping out before you can stop it.

That sound, that reaction from you, seems to drive him even further. "God, you taste really fucking good," he mutters between kisses, his voice thick with desire, making you shiver beneath him. “Almost can’t get enough.”

The weight of his body on top of yours feels right, too right. There’s escaping it now, no turning back. His touch is electric and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to remember what it felt like to breathe without him. 

With one final, hard press against your lips, he pulls back. Shifting to his knees, looking down at your sprawled out figure beneath him, cheeks flushed a beautiful red, lips kiss-swollen, dilated pupils that match his. He grins and works at the rest of his buttons with one hand. “What happened to that pretty dress you were wearing earlier?”

“I…I changed.” You shakily mutter out, oblivious to the hint of rhetoric in his question. 

“Yeah, I see that. But why?”

“Because it was uncomfortable.”

You attempt to sit up and help him, but he promptly guides you back down. Freeing his shirt, revealing a chest that looks like it belongs to a Greek God. It’s lean, but muscular. It’s perfect, you think to yourself. And you really want to run your tongue along it. “Uncomfortable?” He asks. 

You nod. 

“That sucks. I would’ve liked to taste you in it.” He’s working on his belt now. “Maybe next time? Wear it again for me?”

“I don’t know if there’ll be a next time.”

He laughs out, tossing the leather to the side and unbuttoning his slacks. It’s only then do you realize the obvious tent in his pants. Your eyes widen momentarily, if it already looks this big…how will it look once he’s naked? “There’ll be a next time.”

He hovers over you again, his fingers deftly walking at the button of your jeans, lips sucking a small mark into the side of your neck. His other hand on your thigh slides up towards your hip, grabbing the hem of your shirt and slowly starts to pull it up. “Now I wonder,” he murmurs, his lips leaving your neck and moving back towards your ear, “if I asked, would I hear a ‘no’ come out of you?”

You’re shivering, breathing labored. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders to keep you grounded. “…no.”

He smiles, kissing your cheek in a gentle manner as his hands simultaneously unbutton your jeans and pull your shirt up. “So, I don’t suppose I’ll hear a ‘no’ for getting a small peek at you, will I?”

“No,” you breathe out, shoving your face into his neck. 

With a soft coo and ‘shh’, he’s removing your shirt from over your head. Then working on ridding you of your pants. “I hate jeans, makes things so much harder.”

Your legs tense up once they’re exposed to the cold air. He places his palms to your knees, carefully widening them enough to make space in between. “Have you ever been ate out?”

The question makes you feel more embarrassed—more vulnerable. 

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest. The question catches you off guard, making your skin prickle with both unease and something else you can’t quite name. You hesitantly shift, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… I have,” you manage to say, your gaze avoiding his as your cheeks flush. 

“Good?” He licks at the inside of your knee. 

Your face scrunches, brows knitting in the middle. “Y-yeah, somewhat.”

“Liar,” he chides, placing small kisses to the spot he just licked, looking up at you. “Can I try?”

And how could you say no? “Yes.” You reply quietly, watching his grin disappear behind your heated center. Eyes fluttering when he breathes warm air against it. Jolting your hips up, to which he holds them down in a gentle grip. 

A wet spot has already formed on your panties. Unbeknownst to you, it boosts his ego. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.” He takes a taste through the fabric, silently simmering with enjoyment at the way you  squeal. Licking once more before nuzzling his nose against your heat. He inhales deeply, like it’s a sweet flower bathed in honey. Once he’s satisfied, the speed at which he sparingly removes your underwear startles you. 

But so does his mouth. 

“Ah..!”

Your hand instinctively grips his snowy locks. He makes a noise of approval, lips locking around your puffy clit and giving a soft, but also harsh suck. The air practically removes your lungs, back arching off the bed. Mouth hung open, grip tightening around his hair. After a few seconds, he moves down to your fluttering hole. 

His thumb and pointer finger spreading your folds to see you clenching around nothing. His cock throbs in his pants, begging to be released. Not yet, however. You first. His tongue swirls around your hole, licking up every single remnant of juice before digging in. Feeling out every ridge with his wet muscle, eyes closing in delight. His hands bring you closer by your hips, shoving your pussy in his face. The tip of his nose is rubbing against your abandoned clit in a teasing way that makes you hungry for me. 

All you can do is gasp and moan out, pathetically rubbing against his mouth before his hands grip you back down in place. Forcing you to feel every amount of pleasure he can give to you. And god, does it feel heavenly. Your free hand is holding onto the sheets below you, crumpling under your fingertips. 

Lewd sucking noises are coming from him. It’s obnoxious, just like when he was eating his food from earlier. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose. His tongue does a certain move that has you seeing stars, moving in and out at a rapid pace, then circling up to and around your clit before plunging back to your needy hole. 

His thumb decides to partake, rubbing heated circles into your clit. “Nnn..nrgh…w-wai—” The words slip from you, just like your orgasm does. You don’t even know you’ve done it before he’s lifting his face up, revealing the pearlescent traces of your release. He doesn’t bother wiping it, instead leaning down to your lips. You taste yourself. 

It’s a new taste, one you’re not entirely excited about, but the thrill of it all is making your clench. Shaky thighs being groped by his wandering hands before looking straight down at you. “I’m kind of jealous, you know?”

You’re too fucked out already, half-lidded eyes and mumbling back a simple “what?” to him. 

He tsks and easily slips two fingers in. Keeling in on yourself, grasping his forearm for support. “Hey, don’t get all dazy on me now. I’ve just started.”

“I-I’m not…” you protest back weakly, your effort to meet his stare goes awry when you notice him frustratedly pulling the button off and zipper down, yanking the slacks down. With it goes his boxers and you’re shown a thin and curved cock. An angry red mushroom tip. A couple of veins run up his shaft, zig-zagging. He’s already leaking, pumping himself a few times. 

A small groan leaves him, placing a hand beside your head. There’s a cinch between his white eyebrows, his face red and a tad bit sweaty. His lips are downturned slightly. After some heavy breathing, he looks back down at you. Silent seconds take over, nothing but the feel of your body against his, your short breathing, the way you look so ready but nervous at the same time. His face softens. “You can take it, yeah?” 

His gaze is intense, but there’s something warmer in his eyes now—something that feels almost reassuring, like he’s giving you a choice. The way he watches you carefully makes your heart race, unsure of whether it’s fear or anticipation that grips you. You swallow, trying to steady your breathing, your fingers nervously clutching his shoulders. 

The room feels charged with tension, every muscle in your body taut as you process his words. You can feel eyes stuck on you, oddly tender, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time. 

"Yeah," you finally manage, your voice a little shaky but resolute. "I can take it." 

His eyes soften further, a trace of a smile tugging at his lips, as if reassured by your response. “Yeah, you can. You’re not a virgin, right?”

“No.”

“Mm,” he hums, nodding briefly before glancing down at his hardened cock, achingly close to where it needs to be. “How do you like it?”

You ponder his question in your mind quickly, not trying to drag out the moment any longer than it should be. “I…I like it hard. Fast, but slow too. I just want it to feel genuine, not like you’re only seeking your own pleasure.”

“Yeah?” The corner of his lip perks up, rubbing his tip along your cum soaked folds. He laughs softly under his breath. “Funny, that’s how I like to give it. Maybe we’re a match made in heaven.”

The humor of his you once found annoying—well, still annoying—feels strangely wholehearted. Like he’s trying to make you laugh and relax your tense muscles. And you do, he meets your look again. Bending down with a soft, saccharine kiss to your lips. The kiss feels more tender than before, like he’s trying to convey some hidden emotion to you behind it all. Or maybe it’s because he likes feeling you moan into his mouth as he’s slowly sliding his cock in. 

He mirrors your whimper, moaning out in relief. You feel so snug around him, so tight. “So warm.” 

For a minute, he doesn’t move, just basking in your heat. It feels like a warm blanket, he almost—almost—thinks he might cum right then and there with how good you feel. Satoru has had pussy before, good and not so good. “Fuck…oh fuck….y-you feel…really good…”

One thing that makes you the most weak…a vocal man in bed. You tighten around him, his whine gets a little higher-pitched. If this were a different situation, you think you would’ve poked fun at him for it. “Ngh…I—I am?”

“Mmmmnghm.” Is all he can reply back with before he’s moving back slowly, then back in. 

Your nails are now digging into the skin of his back, legs locked around his waist. “Be careful, mkay?” 

“W-what? Why?”

“Because I might cum faster with you holdin’—fuck��onto me like this.”

You can’t respond before he’s pulling out with a greater force and driving back into you with a harder one. The motion alone jolts your body up, causing your tits to jiggle from beneath their cups. You see the way he’s eying them hungrily, so you do him the favor of pulling them down beneath your breasts. They spill out and he’s immediately on them. Sucking and twirling a wet path around your perky nipple before showing the other breast the same excitement. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes…”

“A-ah! O-oh! Mmmngh!”

You almost feel baffled. He’s moaning more than you are. 

His mind is filled with the warmth of you. “Fit like…a f-fuckin’…ring….!” He grunts out, followed by a broken laughter. “I think I’m obsessed.”

He’s leaving marks on your chest, but you don’t protest or even feel them. You’re solely focused on the way his cock is hitting every single spot in your pussy that you don’t even know could be reached. Eyes rolling back, clinging him closer. His tip kisses your g-spot repetitively. His balls slap against your ass, the sound is skin against skin with squelching noises fill the room. It’s erotic, completely provocative. But he’s actually living up to his word, and it seems like he’s more worried about making you finish for the second time tonight than reaching the line himself. 

As the minutes go by, he’s moving harder. Barely giving you any time to breath from the force of it, but you’re not complaining. 

“S-sat…oru…!” You whine out, biting on his shoulder in an attempt to keep your noises lower. 

All that does is spur him on even more, his moans getting louder. The grip on your hip and tit tightening as he pounds his cock into your pussy with complete ease. “So wet, so wet, yeah…oh god, fuck…”

He’s mumbling at this point, but so are you. Each of you is blinded by the pleasure you feel, the passion that’s being emitted and the marks on your bodies that are carved in. His cock twitches, his pace relentless. 

The look he gives you feels manic, hair plastered to his forehead, chest heaving up and down, nostrils flaring in and out. Your hair is messy, laid out beneath you. Mouth parted and dirty sounds exiting it. “I wish I could take a picture right now.” He comments slowly, feeling your thighs tighten. “It feels like your pussy is vibrating,” he chuffs. “Close?”

“Ngh…y-yes!” 

“Yeah, me too, pretty. You first, r-right…behind….you….”

You don’t need to hear anything else. Finally letting go, a whimper-whine coming with it. When he looks down and sees the white ring form around his cock, he’s done for. Quickening his pace, gripping your hips with both hands. “Yeah…yeah…yeah…” 

He moans in a pornographic way, an eruption of warmth fills you, leaving you in more of a blissed out state. A mixture of cum slowly dribbles out your spent pussy, he fingers it back in all the while his cock is still lodged between your folds. Slumping down on top of you, his face on your shoulder. 

The sounds of heavy breathing are heard next, no words. Your chest heaves against his and your legs are like jelly. Slowly loosening their hold from around his waist and falling down to the bed on either side of him. 

The silence is almost deafening, punctuated only by the sounds of your labored breaths. His hands move to your back, tender yet firm, as though he's holding onto the moment. The heat between you both is palpable, your bodies still connected in the aftermath of whatever just transpired. His thumb traces slow, soothing circles against your skin, and you can feel his breath matching yours.

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts, but everything feels hazy, like the world has slowed down just for the two of you.

Your body feels like it's still vibrating from the intensity, each breath a little deeper than the last as you struggle to regain some semblance of control. He shifts slightly above you, pressing against yours in the most familiar way, a warmth that you can't quite pull away from.

Slowly, you tilt your head to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his with an unspoken understanding. He regards you with a tenderness, something different than before. 

His fingers lightly brush against your cheek, as if reassuring you that the silence, though heavy, isn't uncomfortable. "Are you okay?" His voice is low, rough, carrying more than just the weight of the question.

You nod, your lips curling into a small, uncertain smile as you lean into his touch. "Yeah, are you?" You don't know exactly what you feel, but in this moment, it's enough to be with him like this.

“Better than okay,” he proudly huffs, carefully sliding out of you, keeping aware of your facial expressions. “Stay here.”

He’s climbing off of you and standing up from the bed. His knees buckle a little, forcing the limbs to walk over to a cabinet in the other corner. His dick flapping as it softens makes you chuckle. When he looks over, you hide it with a cough. 

You hear him look for some things through drawers, glancing back over, it’s a rag that he wets under the sink with warm water. He comes back over, carefully opening your legs back up and cleaning up the sticky mess between them. He works gently and slowly, making sure his movements aren’t too hard or fast for you. 

A thought suddenly hits you. 

“Hey…” you take your time sitting up once he’s down, seeing him lick something off the tip of his thumb. “When you said you were jealous earlier, what did you mean?”

“Oh, that?” He leisurely asks, grabbing the water bottle nearby and taking a sip before holding it to your mouth. You oblige. “I meant I was jealous that someone else got to you before I did.”

“O-oh…” he swipes at the water drop at the corner of your mouth. “But…why?”

“Why?” He repeats, chortling. A sudden soft peck is placed on your lips. “Because I’ve seen you interviewing all those people and I’ve  been waiting for my turn. And if you didn’t already notice, I think you’re a very beautiful woman. Inside and out.” He pokes lightly at your thigh. 

You blink, as he’s once again managed to throw you off the railings. 

“So next time don’t bring all…this,” he lazily gestures to your notebook, pencil, and recorder, rolling his eyes. “Just yourself, that cute dress, and a smile. I’ll pick you up for dinner down the street.”

a/n: hope u guys enjoyed this :) i haven't written a smut piece in a while so im not toooo confident about my work in this. anywho, reblogs and comments are apprecaited <3 thank you all!

[hadesrise]

## one true love !!

summary──── ben feels true love with you, his enemy, and finds himself able to break from the toxic masculinity he surrounded himself with.

pairings──── soldier boy / benjamin x anti-hero!male reader

warnings──── nsfw content, porn with too much feelings, fluff, slight angst, foul language, probably (very definitely) ooc soldier boy, top!reader, sub!bottom!ben, gentle love, praise kink, hair pulling, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, vibrator, pet names ( love, baby, pup, etc. ), short oral ( r. receiving ), love-making, mating press, missionary, riding, aftercare, light D/S dynamics, pillow talk, a lot of vulnerability, ben proposes to reader unexpectedly, enemies in forbidden love, internalised homophobia, morally grey!reader, possessiveness, homophobic slurs, canon typical misogyny, reader’s anti-hero name is lucifer, reader has magical powers

author’s note──── i might’ve made him too soft and vulnerable, so forewarning that he doesn’t show much of his asshole side in this fic. the ooc warning already says much, i guess?

MINORS DNI !!

Peaceful jazz music and well dressed crowd fills the grand hall decorated in gold curtains, men and women from different wealthy families flaunting around their riches with drinks in hand. Adorned in nothing but expensive attires that feeds off of the poor were most guests that have been invited to celebrate another success of Vought-American with a superhero movie that starred its own team, Payback, while the heroes themselves remained in their pretty little costumes for the publicity and fame.

Cameras, photographers, and journalists lurked in the corner section of the hall, where they’ve been assigned to fulfil their destiny of capturing significant moments that are interesting enough to be written on headlines or shown on television.

Nights like this were when Soldier Boy wanted to beat the shit out of Vought employees for their incapability in making celebrations entertaining. The lack of excitement and chaos infuse Ben with excessive boredom that just gives him the urge to shoot himself in the head, all of its professionalism becoming nothing but a burden and straight up pain in the ass. He’s been hardly enjoying the night, having to put up with Crimson Countess attached to his hip at all times to keep appearances, which he admits is worse than fucking a loose cunt. It didn’t make him feel better that Stan fucking Edgar was watching, making sure things are under control.

The jazz music suddenly stops short with a loud screeching sound that has everyone covering their ears in pain, startled murmurs filling the air as all eyes turned to the stage where a famous band stood, confusion also plastered across their faces. One of them repeatedly presses down on the piano’s key, frowning when it does nothing as if it lost its function all of a sudden. Sensing the panic slowly rise among guests, Stan opens his mouth to speak, only for his words to die in his throat when the lights begin to flicker.

“You know, I’m quite displeased to not have received an invitation.” Deep, resonant, husky voice littered with confidence and cockiness erupt out of nowhere as the flickering lights return to normal, an utterly familiar figure making themselves known.

Gasps, of either excitement or fear, falls from everyone’s lips to your powerful presence that almost immediately caused a shift in atmosphere. Soldier Boy’s breath hitched, feeling his throat dry as he cleared his throat and swallowed.

You don’t miss the quick look of surprise and panic flashing across Stan’s face before they were hidden behind his casual mask of greedy businessman, making the corner of your lips twitch up.

“You’re simply not welcome here, Lucifer.” The man uttered with barely contained irritation despite his best efforts to remain calm, spitting your antihero name — given by, not Vought, but the public themselves — in distaste.

Amusement emerge on your expression, completely unbothered by the antagonistic perspective Stan sees you with.

There’s an underlying overconfidence and arrogance to the way you hold yourself, a man who clearly knows how influential and threatening your own existence is and isn’t even apologetic for it. It wasn’t just for a show — you knew you mattered, knew exactly your worth, and didn’t hide behind the fake persona of a beloved public figure that pretends they’re enjoying a single bit of what they’re doing. Your ego and pride seemingly rivals that of Soldier Boy’s yet yours come more naturally, like you were born with it without the need to develop them in amidst of your life to trick yourself into feeling more relevant. You held charisma, a charm that seems to pull people closer to you despite the dangerous, deceitful, fucking jackass attitude you had that’s supposed to be driving them away. It makes Ben want to either punch your face or suck your cock like a fag whore.

“Fair enough,” You shrugged. “But I certainly make parties more fun. You could learn a couple or two from me.”

Stan’s eye twitches in annoyance at your arrogance; it’s much worse that he can’t use anything to stomp on it because your ego wasn’t fragile like the others. While most men, supe or not, wrap their self-importance in toxic masculinity in order to feel superior than they actually are, you were fully comfortable with yourself. Your emotional capacity was extremely high that developed you to become invincible against criticism or rejection. He can attempt to hurt your feelings, manipulate you, use your own ego against you all he wants — none of it will force you to surrender or submit no matter what because you, quite simply, loved yourself too much to be under power hungry maniacs.

When Stan can’t seem to muster a snarky remark, you smirk and invite yourself in, walking further into the grand hall as you snap your fingers, the white bright lights turning into colourful disco lights with your magic.

You stared at the band members on stage, eyes glowing red, and forcefully overtake their minds to play an upbeat party worth music instead of the boring jazz they did. It’s not that you dislike jazz music, it’s peculiar and beautiful on its own, you’re just not really fond of formal parties where everyone’s required to be in their good behaviours, barely having the time of their life if not to shove their riches down less wealthy people’s throat, which you don’t particularly find amusing or fun at all.

It seems to excite the guests, some of them even beginning to bop their heads to the catchy rhythm, moving their previously still bodies along with the beats. Energy surges through them, life revealing itself within their eyes that was filled with misery before you barged in.

“Let go of the fucking formality, ladies and gentlemen.” You grinned wide with your arms spread open to your sides. “It’s time for a true fun party!”

Ben was in awe when all cheered at your declaration, how quick you were able to turn this entire place into your own playground despite the hosts — authorities — being present, how much of a natural you were at gaining people’s faith and attention without doing more than show up and be yourself.

It should be making him envious; he’s doing all these heroism, model, actor bullshit and hiding behind a perfect macho-man façade to be loved and paid attention to for fuck’s sake, and yet it’s so easy for you to bend people at your own will just by being yourself. He should be pissed as he always did when others get the spotlight more than him, but Ben couldn’t find it in himself to.

How the fuck is he going to be pissed when you look so disgustingly hot doing all of it?

“He’s fucking doing it again,” Countess seethes through gritted teeth, glaring at you. Her little tug on his arm snaps him out of daze as he shifts his gaze to her. “Taking all the attention away from you. With the rate he’s going, I wouldn’t be surprised if he interrupts everything you’re in.”

Ben had to pretend to irritably clench his jaw, and smiled with sarcasm. “As if I’d let him. Fucking asshole needs to be put in his place.”

He knew you heard him when the corner of your lips pulled up in a smirk, one of your brows raising to shoot him a challenging look. It sends a thrill down Ben’s spine as he scowled, giving you a death glare that everyone sees for it is; rage, hatred, despise.

“Pleasure to see you here, Soldier Boy. Crimson Countess.” You greet in a feigned enthusiasm, swiftly taking a cocktail from the waiter that just passed, and approach them in all your glory.

“Fuck you,” Soldier Boy quickly snarled as Countess spits, “Get the fuck away from us.”

Amusement instantly cross your face, nearly making both of them want to punch you. “So much for greeting lovebirds in clown costumes,” You dejectedly say with a hand over your chest for dramatic effect, in contrast to the mocking way in which you spoke. “C’mon, I just made this boring, useless party worth your precious little time. At least now you can stop being a pussy hiding behind an awfully constructed television personality.”

That strikes a nerve in Soldier Boy as his face hardened and a cold look appeared, stepping forward warningly, “I’d choose my next fucking words wisely if I were you.” Countess tugs his arm in a nervous manner while scanning their surroundings, taking notice of people watching your interaction.

You meet his glare with a calm yet daring look and leaned closer, “I wouldn’t. I know I can beat you.” Your eyes glowed in red once again as you grinned confidently.

Ben’s hand twitched, but before he could make a move, a woman approached you from behind and tugged on your elbow, interrupting the little rivalry you had going on. “I’m sorry, do you mind if we dance and have fun for a bit?” She shyly but bravely asked you, not even sparing Soldier Boy a glance.

An unimpressed look flashes in your eyes that only Ben took notice of, the subtle annoyance to the woman for cutting into your rather hostile conversation. You, however, plastered on an emotionless smile within a split second, not giving anyone the chance to see through you. “I’ll lead the way,” You barely looked at him before walking off with her to the centre of the hall where bodies swayed to the beat.

It takes everything in Ben not to square up and make a mess of this party when you started dancing with her, your body dangerously close to hers as she stares at you with a look that made him want to strangle her slim neck. As if you’re a divine sculpture created by Gods, like you’re the entire universe, most precious being to ever exist in this planet, like she knew everything about you when she, in fact, absolutely did not. But he does.

And Ben knows he’ll be screaming your name, holding you impossibly close to him, digging his nails onto your back as you grind into him — everything she wished you’ll do to her — when all of this shit show is over.

At the end of the day, no slut or pussy fucker would come home to you but him; you’ve chosen him despite the countless amount of people throwing themselves pathetically at you, and Ben will make sure he’ll forever be the only one who does.

Lewd squelching, sucking sounds fill the dimly lit bedroom of your home as the stench of sex and arousal surround the air, more prominent due to your and Ben’s enhanced senses. You sat comfortably against the headboard of your shared bed with Ben in between your legs as he sucks and slurps your cock, taking it as far as he can in his mouth and gagging. Tiny muffled moans or groans escape him occasionally, hips grinding against the mattress to stimulate his own aching dick while the vibrator you bought for him nestled deep inside his prepped hole.

“You love my fuckin’ cock so much, don’t you?” You chuckled hoarsely, almost degrading, and Ben shudders. “It’s alright, love. m’not goin’ anywhere.” Your fingers tread through his hair, gently scraping your nails against his scalp, making him groan as his hips stutter.

Maintaining eye contact with you, Ben inhales a deep breath through his nose before taking your cock further down his throat, tears gathering in his eyes when he nearly gagged. A genuine smile adorns your face when he looks at you expectantly, the most beautiful green eyes you’d ever seen holding desperation and self-doubt. Pleading expression that he shows only to you.

“You want me to praise you, pup? Call you good boy?” He whines in response — God, that fucking sound you know he’d rather die than let anyone else hear. Ben doesn’t have any idea how much it affects you, the fact that you’re the only one whom he allows a vulnerable side of him show.

Realising he has to earn what he yearns for, Ben gently wraps his hand around the base of your cock where it didn’t fit and starts to bob his head. You moaned softly, throwing your head back; the sight being such a blessing to Ben’s eyes that makes his own cock throb and needy. He swirls his tongue on the underside of your shaft, his free hand gripping your thigh for support.

“Doin’ so good, love. You’ve gotten better at this,” You cooed, petting his hair and gently thrusting up into his throat. Ben closed his eyes, a blissful look appearing on his face as he relaxed and allowed you to move instead.

The trust and faith Ben has in you makes something explode within your chest, heart swelling in love and adoration at your troubled yet adorable partner.

Building a healthy and trustful relationship with him was more difficult than anything you’ve ever done before, considering the absolute bigotry his father forcefully fed into him and all the unresolved issues he had with himself. Despite the tough and harsh exterior he constantly put on, you had seen right through him when you first met — those broken spirit that yearned to be loved or needed by people hiding behind his douche, Soldier Boy persona, a man that his imbecile of a father always wanted him to be. It amused you as much as it squeezed your chest; one of the first strongest superhero being a fucking attention starved bastard was undeniably funny, but pitiful. It’s also why you fell in love with him.

You’ve accepted that Ben was always going to have a deep rooted homophobia in him, that there won’t be a day where you’ll be seen in the public with him holding hands like star-fucking-crossed lovers, that he’ll always be too much of a pussy to be fully himself — but you never expected him to be so open, comfortable, with you like this to the extent of willingly trusting you with a needy and desperate version of himself.

Benjamin is laying his heart out bare for you to take, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to make love to him or fuck his brains out. You decided with the former.

Confusion settles on Ben’s expression when you gently pushed his shoulders to make him pull away, a sudden worry if he’s done something wrong, but all thoughts flies out the window after you passionately smashed your lips against his and guided him on your lap. Ben gasps when you pulled the vibrator out of his hole and replaced it with your thick fingers, hooking his arms on the back of your neck.

“So good, love. Lookin’ all pretty for me.” He moans at your praise, the compliment making his heart flutter rather than boost his ego.

“s’for you…” They come out in whisper from his lips, littered with slight reluctance around the edge, but you hear it loud and clear. “All for you. I— fuck… just for you,” He grinds on your fingers, crying out when you curled them just right to stimulate his prostate.

You almost feel dizzy for his words that he’s never uttered before.

The utmost pride he upholds made it difficult for Ben to completely submit to you, often being a disobedient brat that needs to be put in his place or a quiet, reserved man that’s embarrassed to be loved by another man which causes him to be tense for the first half of this activity — so seeing him like this, hesitantly yet openly letting you in to his comfort zone, spilling the thoughts he’s always been fearful of admitting, holding you tight to him as if you’d slip from his grasp if he let you go, was pleasantly surprising. Your heart flutters, butterflies filling your stomach as the urge to protect and gently take him apart piece by piece runs like electricity through your veins, fuelling your desire for Ben.

You thrust your digits with gentle pace, Ben’s hips moving on its own to chase the pleasure. “That’s right, baby. All f’me, yeah? My pretty darling?”

The gentleness of your whispered voice and your eyes staring at him with pure love sends shivers down his spine; Ben holds your face and nods, pulling you in for a kiss. You can feel his suppressed fear through his desperate lips, the doubts that lingers in his mind that you might see him differently for being so vulnerable like this, and you quickly silence his thoughts by slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

Ben mewled when you add another digit in him, now having three fingers penetrating his hole, as he breaks the kiss to breathe for air. There’s a hazy look in his tearful eyes when he meets your gaze, “Take care of me, please.”

You groan at the plea, immediately pulling your fingers out to instead align your cock with his entrance. Ben must’ve been waiting for so long because he doesn’t hesitate to sink down on it almost in an instant, a loud collective moan escaping the two of you. Your hands gripped his hips while he rested both hands on your shoulders, and fuck he felt so fucking good. The way his warm, tight velvety walls deliciously clamp around you as if swallowing your cock whole, the way his divinely beautiful body perfectly fit against yours like he was made for you.

“fuck… you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” You praised, kissing up his throat as he threw his head back in pleasure. “Completely mine, so is Soldier Boy. Everythin’ about you, Ben. It’s all mine.”

Ben nods vigorously, gripping the back of your neck and starting to ride you at a perfect pace, tiny sounds escaping his mouth. Slipping his fingers through your hair, he gently tugged on them just enough that had you groaning, and laid his forehead to rest against yours. “Y-yours- ah… Yours as… as much as you’re fucking mine,” He grunts out, possessiveness hanging onto his every word that shot excitement through your body. “No one gets to f-fucking have you… oh fuck—!” He cuts himself off with a strangled moan when you snapped your hips up.

“Yeah? Not even that slut that danced with me on the dance floor?” You teased, smirking.

His bright green eyes seem to darken as he sinks even further down on your cock, forcefully stretching himself out, hissing at the delicious pain. You moaned, wrapping an arm around him to pull him to your chest. “Fuck, especially her.” Ben almost growls, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat, feeling you throb and seemingly get bigger inside him due to it. “You… belong to me, o-only me.”

You hum, moaning softly when he squeezed your jugular just right. “Always, my love.”

Relief washes over his entire body as he begins to roll his hips and move again, leaning down to suck and kiss on your exposed collarbone. “Oh fuck… It’s— a-agh…! Tell me- tell me, please…” He whined desperately.

Ben needed to hear you say it, have the promises of you completely belonging to him nailed into his brain so he’ll never feel insecure or doubtful again. He’ll never admit it, but you always know every little thing that goes on inside his head, those haunting words of his father that seems to have a tight grip over him. You’re the only one that could see right through his soul; someone exactly opposite from his father, someone who fearlessly challenges the normality or ancient traditions, someone who actually have their shit together that enabled you to be mature, wise, unapologetically yourself.

You were extraordinary in every way possible, and Ben knew his inner vulnerable — not quite the man his father wanted him to be — self was safe with you. Always secured. Never judged nor ridiculed, instead embraced perfectly by your strong and warm arms that shields him away from the mental, emotional harm.

He knew you would catch him when he falls. You would keep him and his treasured thoughts safe. You weren’t afraid to love him loudly, wholeheartedly, and Ben allows himself to be brave just this once without thinking about his fears.

Trailing one of your hands up his nape, you pull him back to a searing kiss, pouring all the desire and love into it. Ben melted, his hand on your throat loosening as you gently twist your bodies around to lay him down on the bed without pulling out. He whimpers and chases you when you detached your lips from his, which nearly made your heart explode.

“I belong to you, my love.” You whispered, kissing down his neck and chest, thrusting your cock sensually slow inside him. Nothing quite like the animalistic sex you two usually have due to your powers, but it was more right than ever. “My heart, my body, my soul, my spirit. All for you, belong with you.”

Ben feels as if his heart would hammer right out of his ribcage from how rapid it was beating.

Your soothing yet powerful presence all over the place, hovering over him and embracing every bit of the damaged part of himself that he refused to acknowledge. There’s resistance gnawing on his skin, the unhealthy urge to push you away and guard himself again with a thick wall despite being the one who willingly showed vulnerability, but Ben uses all of his ability to shove it down. He wanted to listen to your overwhelmingly romantic and gentle words that he’s been taught men should never utter, he wanted to be held with so much care like he was your most prized possession, he wanted to be actually loved. For once, he wanted to allow himself to not be drowned in the toxicity his father had force-fed him with.

It doesn’t take you a second to notice him relaxing even further underneath your body, practically leaning onto your existence as the pretty noises escaping his mouth seems to gradually get louder, like he stopped holding himself back.

An awe surrounds your expression, genuinely taken aback by him letting everything go, and a soft sigh of pleasure falls from your lips. “That’s it, baby. You make the most prettiest sound. Don’t hold back,” Cooing gently, you adjust your hips and rolled into him, brushing his prostate at a perfect angle.

Ben keened, arching his back. “Fuuuck… oh, please. Deeper.”

You obliged, keeping the same slow and sensual pace but pushing further inside. “You’re made for me, aren’t you? Just as I’m made for you,” You sharply snap your hips once to emphasise, and he cries out. “We’re one, my love. No one can have me, I come home to you and only to you no matter what.”

His breath hitched, the pleasure and your words sending explosions of euphoria into his brain, nodding mindlessly at your promises. “Y-yes, fuck… I’m- I’m yours, too— ah, hng…” Tears spill from his beautiful green eyes as he spread his legs more wide, one hand grabbing your wrist that was propped beside his head to stabilise your body, almost clinging onto you while the other scratched against the mattress. “F-fucking Christ, always- always yours.”

“I know,” You softly acknowledged. “Always mine, no matter how much some part of you can’t accept it. I can see right through you, love. I understand everything about you.”

“I- oh yes! There, fuck!” Ben sobs when you start picking up your pace, hips bucking against you. “Y-you do… God, you a-always fucking do.”

That causes a grin to spread across your lips before you leaned down to devour him again.

Truth be told, Ben was afraid of how much you saw everything he’s been trying to hide all his life. It takes a bit of his soul every-time he learns to be indifferent, more sick and twisted. The innocence in him had died out long ago, but the desperation of a child never vanquished — the pathetic, ruined and heavily deprived of any love someone that he always forced himself to forget or get rid of, was seen entirely by you without much effort. He didn’t need to say anything, you always understood all the hidden insecurity, longing, pain, and fear nested deep in his mind. You also understood why he was the way he was, why he does what he does, who he had to become.

To be loved is to be seen and understood, he guesses.

A love he’s never thought he’ll ever experience from anyone, let alone his supposed enemy. You gave it to him, though. All so willingly, happily, like he was meant for it, like he was always meant for you.

Strangled, loud moan was forced out of him when your hand wrapped around his achingly hard dick, making him feel dizzy from all the overwhelming desire and pleasure. Every bit of love that emits from your touch sends a frying electricity through his veins, fulfilling his inner thirst that was supposed to be unquenchable.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck—!” Ben wails, arching his back and digging his nails on your forearm as your thumb rubbed his sensitive slit and smeared precum all over. “C-close… oh, Christ! Cummin’, cummin’, please—”

“It’s alright, Ben. I got you,” You purred, slamming your hips down on him. “Let go, cum for me.”

As if that’s all the permission he needed, Ben instantly tumbles over the edge with a loud breathy whine as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, sticky loads shooting out from his cock to his stomach. Body spasming and head thrown back, letting his mind-blowing orgasm wave right off of him, still clinging onto you. You gritted your teeth when his hole tightened impossibly around you, feeling yourself throb and ache to release.

Ben — in spite of his cloudy, mushed state of mind as well as hazy and cock-drunk look in his eyes — suddenly wraps both strong legs around your hips to keep you in place, which forces you forward to bury yourself deeper inside him, eliciting a growl of curses from you.

His mouth splits into a dumb, shit-eating grin. “Inside, baby. Fill me up… give me all you got. I need you.” He moves his hips and squeezes down like a fucking expert prostitute, and it’s enough to have you let out a guttural groan as you spilled inside his tight hole.

Ben released a shattered breath, moaning delightfully at your warm cum that taints his insides, his hand that was gripping your forearm moving down to caress his belly where he could feel you finishing.

It makes your breath hitch; the action sparking a deep hidden desire and possessiveness within you that you’ve had shackled for so long in order to not be too greedy.

But Ben, oh your precious Benjamin, pressed down on his perfect belly and whined so brokenly that tugged the strings of your heart, as if he wanted something so unreachable. He attempts to bury his face on the pillow in what you recognised as shame and you quickly hold his face to keep him from hiding from you, subtle concern glimmering in your gentle eyes.

“What’s bothering your mind, love?” You whispered with such carefulness, afraid speaking too loud would break the bubble of sensitivity that surrounded the two of you as you pressed a light kiss on his temple. “You can tell me, Benji. It’s not embarrassing nor shameful.”

Ben’s heart swells at the way you cage him in your protective arms and words, the back of his eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to come out. He doesn’t deserve you; he never did, but you’re so good to him and he doesn’t think he can live without you. No, he knows he can’t live without you.

What would he do without your captivating eyes looking at him with so much passion no one ever gave him before, your gentle voice uttering such carefully crafted words that embraces rather than cut through him, your big and muscular yet warmly protective arms holding him like he was a treasure to behold, your soul healing and rebuilding every damaged bit of his spirit like it was your purpose? What would he do without you?

And fuck, everything would be so much easier if he wasn’t a fucking man. If he wasn’t such a pussy who’s afraid of risking everything.

You gently roll your hips against his, slow and steady, as if to comfort his nerves and overthinking thoughts with a soft pleasure.

Letting out a quiet, breathy sigh, Ben holds your face close and internally fights back against the restraints that wanted to keep him from opening his soul up to you. “We’d be… We’d be so much happier if I wasn’t a fucking man,” His whispered voice breaks at the end.

His heart ached and so did yours, a realisation dwelling on you of how serious Ben actually was with your relationship. It comes off as an unexpected admittance. While you knew he did love you like you love him, you didn’t think it was to this extent of imagining the countless possibilities if either of you was a woman instead, much less he’d think of himself to be the woman. It was odd and so unlike him — true love brings out something within people, you suppose.

Tears glimmered in his green eyes that’s filled by storm of emotions.

Ben hated this, hated you for making him such a crybaby and a pussy, but he’s so in love with you it fucking hurts. He doesn’t know what triggered him to be an annoying, pathetic, insecure loser the moment you held him. God, he’s Soldier Boy for fuck’s sake!

Then, you look at him with so much tenderness like he hung the moon and was the only thing that grounds you down to earth, and Ben realises it’s this.

“You’re such a fucking fool,” You affectionately cursed with a tone barely above whisper before pressing a lingering kiss on his lips. “I wouldn’t have spared you a glance if you weren’t. Women never captivated me, love. Only you.”

Wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face on the crook of your neck, Ben inhales your scent as you gently rock your bodies together. “Love me more,” He almost demands, voice low and trembling.

You smiled, “Of course, Benji.”

Pressing a sweet kiss on his head, you grab the back of his thighs and push them to his muscular chest, Ben’s flexibility despite his well defined physique making it easier for you to fold him. In a swift motion, you slam down on him, beginning to pound away the loud thoughts that made home in his mind. Angelic, high pitched sounds escape Ben’s mouth with each rough thrusts, bordering on pornographic. The blissful look across his face enhance his already ethereal features, and you can’t help but stare intently at him.

“You look so beautiful like this, love. Taking me in so well, letting me cherish you.” You praised, earning a needy whimper from the love of your life. “My Benjamin… my brave soldier.”

At the unexpected pet name, Ben’s body jolts and a choked sob erupted from his throat, suddenly pushed over the edge as he cums undone on his stomach. “F-fuck!”

“G-god, baby…” You groaned, shuddering in pleasure at the way his gummy walls spasms around your girth. “Drivin’ me insane, y’know that? Cummin’ with just my words alone? Shit, wanna fuck you hard and love you at the same time.”

Digging his nails on your back, Ben attached his lips on your collarbone with an intent to leave several possessive marks, making you jut your hips forward. “D-do it, fuck me.” He mumbled breathlessly.

That’s the only permission you needed to let go of your own self-control and just rut into him like an animal, thrusting your cock with more vigour and roughness that forced the headboard to repeatedly bang against the wall. Feeling the way your shaft practically drill into and rearrange his guts that brought immeasurable ecstasy, Ben finds himself finally unable to make out a coherent thought as drools drip down his chin. The two orgasms you milked out of him already left him sensitive enough, his thighs quivering under your grasps.

Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and wet squelches filled the room, accompanied by feral noises of both of your moans and grunts.

It’s nearly incomprehensible how you’re able to quickly switch between loving him and treating him like a slut next, a perfect balance to Ben’s constant yearning for admiration or appreciation and his tendency to always be an inconsolable brat that needs to be put back in his place.

He feels so complete and whole, so loved. And so so fucking dumb for your cock. He could stay like this forever without heavy expectations weighing over his head all the time, just taking you whole and letting you ruin his body, looking all pretty and beautiful for you. Yeah, he can do that. Being pretty and sexy has always been a talent of his, after all. He can even learn to cook for you like a fucking perfect, pretty housewife, maybe you’ll stuff him full of your cum again while at it and tell him to keep them in. Fuck, he can do that too. He wants to do that.

“Oh fuck, Ben…” An almost pornographic, low growl rumbles from your chest when he squeezed down on you, his warm walls fluttering against your girth from the imagination. The coil in your stomach tightens as you twitched inside him, too close to your high.

“I- ah—! Please, pleaseplease—!” He babbles, one hand shifting to press your ass and push you in deeper, syllables slightly slurred from how cockdrunk he was.

Understanding his wordless signal, you increase your pace with an angle that drives your instincts wild, a chill running through your spine from the overwhelming pleasure. Seeing Ben completely fall apart and surrender underneath you gives your ego an infinite boost, the powerful man such a sobbing, wrecked, pretty little mess just because of your cock. Drunk in every little euphoria and precious love you feed him. Oh, how fucking adorable and gorgeous he was.

Before long, Ben feels you throb inside him and pulls you in with what little willpower he had left, clumsily slipping his tongue in your mouth, overwhelming you with different sensations of his body against yours. It’s enough to have you harshly ram your hips down in one swift motion and empty yourself inside him, a loud wail of your name leaving Ben’s lips as he finishes as well. You feel his body tremble violently due to overstimulation, breath stuttering.

“You look so fucked out,” You laugh breathlessly, hips softly grinding to ride out your climax. “Still fuckin’ hot when you’re all dumb n’ mindless.”

Petting his disheveled hair, a soft contented hum leaves Ben as he closed his eyes and nuzzled to your touch. The entire erotic sight of his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, tears staining his cheeks, hazy look across his eyes, and swollen lips sends amusement and satisfaction through your veins — you definitely fucked whatever self-loathing thoughts he’s had out of his head.

Having completely spilled inside him, you moved to pull out only for Ben to groan in protest. “Stay the fuck in,” He grumbled, panting to catch his breath.

“I need to clean us up, love.” You gently say, but kept yourself sheathed inside him as your lips attach to his neck. “Wanna take care of you properly.”

Ben quietly sighs in content, “You already do.” Before he tilts his head to capture you in a passionate kiss. You slowly pull out of him in amidst of the moment, holding his face and reciprocating with equal passion.

He breathes low and heavy when you start to wipe him up with a wet towel you magically conjured up, running it across his body gently as your other hand massaged his sore hip with such tenderness. Your eyes taking in every part of his physique feels much more innocent now compared to before, deep appreciation and subtle awe flashing across your irises the more you stare, which causes his cheeks to tint slightly. You find it adorable how shy or embarrassed he gets whenever you look at him like he’s something born out of the stars in contrast to the overinflated cockiness he displays when others compliment him; it just proves he feels different, more special with you.

You shoot him a gentle smile that makes his brain shut down and his heart jump.

Christ on a cross, just what did you fucking reduce him into?

“Will you marry me?” The words had left his mouth before he could even process.

You froze, eyes wide as you snapped your gaze to him at the same time his own widened in shock. Fuck, did he just say what he thinks he did? After you fucked him ‘til he couldn’t even speak properly? God, his legs feel wobbly after all that delicious pounding of your dick in his tight little—

His distracting thoughts were interrupted by your hands cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. There’s a bit of doubt lingered across your expression, worried that you mistakenly heard him, and Ben’s gaze softened. “Will you marry me?” He repeats quietly this time with genuine emotion, wiping away your worry.

Excitement and happiness seem to explode within you as you beam; “Yes! Fuck, yes, I’ll marry you.” However, your smile slowly deflates and a foreign look of insecurity replaces the joy surrounding you. “Are you… are you sure? You’re not pushing yourself?”

Confusion spreads across his face, “Why would you think I am?”

“It’s just not that easy to break away from all the homophobia, love.” You softly remind him. “You’re still having a hard time accepting it, could barely even call yourself the right term. You’re afraid, and that’s fine. We can continue on like this. You don’t have to marry me because you feel obligated to.”

Ben frowns, his hand pulling you down to the mattress at his side as he props up on his elbow and stares at you incredulously. “You think I wanna fucking marry you just ‘cause I’m guilty about hiding this? Did it ever occur to you that I actually fuckin’ love you?”

You smile to yourself; what a long way it took for him to just be able to admit that. At least he’s letting himself know he can be vulnerable with you now, compared to when he was convinced you’ll despise his inner self — a big fucking pussy, he says — and completely shut himself off in the beginning.

“Hey,” He grabs your chin to make you pay attention. “I know I still don’t do enough to show you, but I do. I really fucking do, baby.”

You look into his captivating green eyes for a second before releasing a deep breath, “I know. Trust me, you don’t have to do enough to show it, I can already tell. And I love you too.”

Ben nods and kisses your lips, lying down beside you. Your hand instinctually attaches to his waist, caressing his soft skin and shooting warmth throughout his body.

He can’t help but stare at your features, the way you look different now from how you looked at the party you crashed earlier. A certain amount of coldness, hostility and displeasure usually lurked your expression in a daily manner — hidden behind the undeniable charisma and obnoxious arrogance — directed at others that told exactly what their worth to you was; nothing. Ben hasn’t seen a day you were even remotely pleased by someone in the long years of knowing you, the people who attempted to get in your good graces often ended up screwing everything up instead and irritating you enough to kill them off.

But with him, you wouldn’t even spare him a cold glance. Your gaze twinkling with a pleasant spark, always warm, always comforting, always proud. God forbid you look at him with hatred like you’re supposed to. So affectionate for a man who’s been named after the Devil by the idiotic public that only sees what you let them see.

It is then had Ben realised; to him, true love is you.

True love is when you embrace a part of him that he deems undesirable, mend his broken soul, and melt the ice of deep rooted trauma surrounding his heart — it is when Soldier Boy doesn’t drive you away from seeing Benjamin, an ordinary boy from South Philadelphia who desperately wanted to make his father proud. You see them as one, as equally significant parts of him.

Good fucking Lord, he was a gigantic imbecile if he didn’t want to marry you, even if the idea still makes him feel quite… odd. Fuck’s sake, he really needs to learn how to deal with this homophobia bullshit, doesn’t he?

Ben licks his lips anxiously, reluctance plastered on his face. “I… I actually got the rings,” He hesitantly admitted.

Your eyes widened. “You did?”

“I- Jesus Christ, of course I did! I know I don’t fucking do shit like that, okay?” He snapped before quietly muttering, “Just wanted you to believe me when I propose.”

“I do,” You don’t miss to give him comfort, grabbing his hand. Ben’s nerves soothes at your touch. “I just thought we still have a long way to go and you need more time to figure yourself out.”

He shakes his head, “Gotta claim you before some fucker decides you’re free for them.”

“Yeah?” You smirked, raising one eyebrow. “Could’ve gone with a collar, y’know. It would get your point straight across. Plus, it’s more visible.” Tapping your neck to emphasise, which made Ben swallow.

Yeah, you’ll look good with a collar in his colour. You can even wear both. That’ll definitely get his point across to anyone that even looks at you. Maybe next time, he decides.

A mischievous smirk spreads across his lips, “That’ll fucking work best. Think I could put a leash on you too?” He teased, letting out a chuckle and sliding his hand up to your neck and hold you there.

“Mhm, fuck yes,” You almost purred from how pleased you were at the idea.

Ben laughs, lightly squeezing your neck in affection before turning around to rummage through the cabinet on the side of your bed, pulling out a velvet box that’s in the shade of his green. You could tell he was enthusiastic and overwhelmed with emotions from the way his hands slightly trembled, though you made no mention of it to avoid bursting his adorable bubble.

His grin was as bright as the sun on a sunny day when the ring perfectly fits around your finger, already snuggling comfortably on your skin and bringing a weight of new purpose in life. You slip the other ring on his as well, feeling the entanglement of your destiny with one another, the red strings of fate on both of your pinky fingers thickening. It’s a sacred oath that ties you to each other forever.

Warmth spreads around your chest at the fact it’s his first time giving you a gift and it’s something so unexpectedly intimate. A silver engagement ring with a ruby in his shade of green and his name engraved on the inner side; practically a part of his soul, settling itself home around your finger. You shift your gaze to the one he wears — the same silver ring but with a dark red ruby instead, your signature colour, and you assume also have your name engraved on the inner side as well.

A big, significant step for a man who’s constantly afraid of what others think about him, and you couldn’t be more prouder.

Lying back down on the bed together, Ben turns his back on you and scoots closer to your chest, making you smile when he grabbed your wrist to pull your arm over his torso. He always loved being hugged by you from behind despite the fact he’ll never admit it out loud; as much as it sounds pathetic and unmanly, he doesn’t argue with himself of how it gives him safety and protection from the harsh judgmental world. Being in your arms always dissipated the cruel words of his father carved in his mind.

You gently pulled him closer to your body and pressed a kiss on his shoulder blade. “Don’t have to rush about coming out, love. It’ll take more than a simple courage to be open about something considered taboo by our society. You’re still dealing with personal issues, we’ll focus on that for now.”

Ben’s heart warms at your consideration, unable to resist the urge to stick to you like a glue as he leans back on your chest. “How the fuck did you do it? This feels like a pain in the fucking ass,” He muttered disdainfully, though there was a hint of willingness in his tone, like he’s willing to make an effort just for you.

You shrugged, “m’not exactly shaped by my childhood trauma, Benji, and I didn’t like my parents that much. Never really gave a fuck about somethin’ that has no benefit to my life whatsoever.”

“Entitled asshole,” He laughs.

“So are you,” You teased, making you both erupt in loud laughter.

I could get used to this, Ben thinks as genuine happiness glows bright in his heart, your love anchoring him and providing a solid land for him to stand on. Dealing with his own problems doesn’t sound so bad when you’re there for him every step of the way. With your protective arms around his body, both Soldier Boy and Benjamin knew their heart will always be safe with you.

For once, Ben believes he can finally learn to create a family of his own.

Until disaster struck and life suddenly decides to not be fair on someone as fucked up as him — ripping his world apart into shreds in the form of coward, betraying bastards known as his fucking teammates.

© all rights reserved to hadesrise ──── stealing, plagiarising, or using my works for monetary gain is strictly prohibited. ask permission before reposting or translating.

[sayruq]

Last week, Politico reported that President Joe Biden would “consider” conditioning military aid to Israel if the country launches a large-scale invasion of Rafah, where more than a million Palestinians are sheltering. “It’s something he’s definitely thought about,” said one of the four anonymous US officials cited as a source. This was about as weak of a position as could be imagined: The President had definitely thought about maybe doing something. Still, even this proved too much. One day later, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan said the article was based on “uninformed speculation” by anonymous officials and that he wouldn’t be entertaining hypotheticals about how the US would respond to a major invasion of Rafah, which US officials have signaled they would accept in a more limited form. The dismissal was the latest indication of the administration’s almost complete unwillingness to even discuss imposing serious consequences on Israel for waging a war that has killed more than 30,000 people, most of whom were women and children. Instead, the administration has adopted a newfound feeling of impotence. As State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller put it last month, “The United States does not dictate to Israel what it must do, just as we don’t dictate to any country what it must do.” The absurdity of this position was made clear when a reporter interjected, “Unless you invade them.” Miller couldn’t help but laugh. It has been obvious for months that there are many things the Biden administration can do to restrain Israel and distance itself from a war that has been condemned throughout the world. The problem has not been a lack of options but a lack of political will. Daniel Levy, a former Israeli peace negotiator who is now the president of the US/Middle East Project, told me, “I think many of us who had very low expectations of the US and of Biden have had a rude awakening as to how much lower the actual performance has been [compared] to even the lowest of low expectations.”

As evidence of how important US backing has been for Israel, Levy cited veteran Israeli journalist Yoav Limor, who wrote in Hebrew earlier this month that without “Biden’s support, Israel would long ago have been forced to stop the fighting in Gaza due to a shortage of weapons, while at the same time it would have been forced to deal with United Nations Security Council resolutions (and possibly sanctions) against it.” Still, Levy thought it might take weeks or months of sustained US pressure to compel Israel to change course. In any case, Biden is under no obligation to provide thousands of bombs to a country whose leader has consistently ignored him as Israel wages a brutal war that has leveled much of Gaza and caused children to die of starvation. “We need to stick to our own values,” Ford said. “If our values say, ‘Starving children is way beyond the pale,’ then we need to react to that and take stern action, whether or not it changes Israeli policy.”

[dragon-chica]

Cryptid Hunting - Eddie & Venom x Reader

Fandom: Marvel / Venom

Dear gods it's been a long time since I wrote but this duo? marry me.

You have a love for monsters and stories, folklore and cryptozoology especially the more interesting creatures, in particular.

Eddie once had asked you if you really believe in all those stories, legends and cryptids and folklore. He found them interesting and entertaining, especially some of your favorites you shared with him, but didn't consider a lot on the subject.

"Babe, your body contains an alien slime that cured your cancer and eats your ass. This is just a cursed child that flew out a chimney and haunts New Jersey. No offense, Venom, honey."

"NONE TAKEN."

"That's fair."

You had always wanted to try cryptid hunting just for fun, but could never convince anyone to join you for a night of tomfuckery in a creepy area with legends and rumors.

Eddie though, had no excuse.

Your reasoning was, he's a journalist, he should investigate this story, spinning your laptop around with an article on a chosen cryptid for him to look at while you also read about it from one of your cryptozoology and folklore books.

Your second reason was, he's your boyfriend and "Please, please, please, please baby?"

Which of course he could never say no to, not that it helps that Venom is also now pleading along with you.

"YES EDDIE, PRETTY PLEASE? WE CAN FIND IT AND EAT IT. AN EXOTIC SNACK, AND WE WILL IMPRESS THEM."

Both his lovers pleading for him to do something? He's a lovestruck sucker as is, even if it is walking around like a couple of dumbasses in the dark. He's done weirder.

You honestly didn't actually expect him to agree though, and are ecstatic that he does.

Your excitement and the big kiss on his cheek is already worth it he thinks.

"SEE EDDIE? WE ARE AMAZING PARTNERS. MORE CRYPTIDS AND MORE KISSES."

You make a day out of it, a roadtrip.

With snacks. Lots of snacks, and one guy at a gas station that was just awful. "HE DIDN'T TASTE VERY GOOD EITHER."

All in all, Eddie was having a good day. Time off spent with his favorite beings, a scenic drive, wearing shoes. Not really expecting much of the "cryptid hunt" besides walking around in the dark and talking to the woods like ghosthunters.

But you and Venom were hyped, as soon as you parked in a secluded area and geared up with flashlights and a video camera, he didn't know who was more excited.

Venom was hovering over his shoulder, head whipping around so much he was spinning Eddie as he went, following you "to a good spot."

You sat in the woods for awhile together waiting for it to get dark, wrapped in a cozy hoodie and leaning against Eddie while reading to him different stories from one of your cryptid books.

When darkness settled around you and something could be heard walking through the brush, you flashlight spun toward it.

"DO NOT WORRY MORSEL, WE ARE THE LETHAL PROTECTOR. YOU ARE SAFE."

Eddie did not expect, at the sound of something moving closer in the woods, for Venom to jump out of him, and into you. Backing up with black good around your hand now shaking with the beam towards it.

"What the hell V?" he whisper shouted while your other hand covered your mouth trying to hide a snicker.

"THAT'S ENOUGH HUNTING FOR TONIGHT."

A weird trilling sound came for the forest and Venom encased you, going full form and grabbing Eddie over your shoulder before sprinting back to the card and tossing him inside.

Your flashlights, heavy duty and bought just for this, were long forgotten while multiple tentacles rummaged around Eddie before finding the keys and slamming them in the ignition.

"What's wrong V? i thought you wanted to eat a cryptid for me?"

You try to soothe and pet him while Eddie gets his bearings again.

"NOT HUNGRY. THE UGLY MAN GAVE US INDIGESTION. BESIDES, EDDIE WAS SCARED."

"HEY!"

Eventually, against Venom's protests on Eddie being a chicken and too scared to continue, Eddie trekked back to retrieve your gear, Venom back with him and switching from full cowl to hiding inside him again while you waited in the car.

[aphrodeiities]

𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔦𝔡 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔞 [408]

𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔦𝔡 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔞 [408] latin for fame, entails what you can become famous for.

WARNING ⟶ LOST POST.

paid chart readings

how to find asteroids

18+.

follow for more content.

ASTEROID FAMA 408 IN THE SIGNS ⬎ 

♇ asteroid fama 408 in aries ⟶ having this asteroid in aries entails that one could become famous for being an athlete, or being known for what they did in war, of course it could manifest into many ways of them becoming famous because of their passion in the skill they are talented at. they could become famous chiefly for being known as "sexy", and even be known for their body, could also become famous because of botched cosmetic surgery, can just be known for their face along with also being a leader or the first person to do something.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in taurus ⟶ having this asteroid in taurus entails that one could become famous for their beauty, or because of their voice. could pursue the career of ASMR or becoming famous because you are good at singing, [does not need to apply to everyone] you can become famous because you could get into a relationship with someone who is popular. one one hand, this could manifest becoming popular because of your sensuality; might be famous because they might've pursued the career of becoming an actress/actor.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in gemini ⟶ having this asteroid in gemini entails that one could become famous through advertisement, could belong to a popular friendship group in the future, or gaining popularity quickly because of a social media like tiktok. could become famous because of something they wrote, [specifically novels], might be an industry plant, and it can go well for them. can become famous for being a journalist or being a popular page that spreads gossip like popbase from twitter.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in cancer ⟶ having this asteroid in cancer entails that one could become famous through something family-oriented, like those family accounts on youtube, or you can be looked up to because you can give good advice. could become famous due to your creativity. could become famous because you might get sexualised especially due to your breast. could become a popular politician, could become popular because people admire your beauty and find you dreamy.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in leo ⟶ asteroid fama here is clear that one is to be famous, doesnt always have to be world wide fame, it could just mean success and wealth from the line of work that they do. can also become famous because they're an actor/actress, can become famous through theatre, entertaining in general. their creativity can be admired and can be put under a spotlight. can become a socialite or become famous due to social affairs, could be through sports or anything that has them using their body a lot. can be given a monarch title over what they're skilled for.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in virgo ⟶ asteroid fama here---and i have spoke about the fame of virgo placements in the majestic virgo, and it revealed to me that virgo placements can genuinely gain fame from anything they do, or whatever they put their mind into. can become a famous scientist or judge on a talent show, can become a famous chef. can be famous in the society/community they're in. could get famous off a competition show.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in libra ⟶ asteroid fama here can make one famous due to their sense of style, being a social climber, and can also become famous in the art they pursue. another sign that can become famous due to their beauty, [might get famous due to cosmetic surgery, good or bad]. could become a famous make up artist or stylist, is another indicator of being an industry planet. depending how good the contract is, it can go well for them. could become famous if they create fashion/clothes. or a successful interior designer. could be a famous political figure.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in scorpio ⟶ asteroid fama here can make one famous due to gossip, could even indicate someone exposing a sensual video/pictures, could be perceived as a sex icon. or just being famous because people might want to copy their style/aesthetic, and being known due to their mysterious essence. could become famous due to controversy, and just the power and influence they have over people. could become a well-known dj.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in sagittarius ⟶ having asteroid fama in this sign can make someone known globally, could be a known guru, [could be beauty guru etc], could come from a popular agency. or can publish a book that does really well, could be a known screen-writer, someone who is known for their spiritual/religious beliefs good or bad. can be into philosophy, could also be known for their spiritual gifts. can be known for the things they teach. can also be known for their sense of humour.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in capricorn ⟶ having asteroid fama in this sign can make someone known because of the business they own, can be very respected in the industry they're in. could also be a known political figure, someone who is good at sculpting, could become a known historian. can give someone long lasting fame, but being saturn ruled, it can also make someone have short fame, depends how the person uses their publicity since capricorn carries karma. can become famous by associating yourself with powerful people.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in aquarius ⟶ having asteroid fama in this sign can make someone known for their unqiue-ness or for them being an authentic and original person. can also be known for their erratic personality or humour. this is an indicator of being the popular friend or having a popular friend, could also manifest into becoming famous online. can also be a known actress/actor, can also be known due to astrology, or known in the society/community they're in. can be in a popular group, could be known due to freedom fighting or social awareness, or a known psychic.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in pisces ⟶ having asteroid fama in this sign can make someone known for their dreamy aura, can be a famous actor/character, could be known for being a martyr, or for their faith. a lot of people might live through them due to what they do so this is another influencer indicator. as it can rule over photography, having asteroid fama in pisces can indicate someone being a known model or even photographer. could be a known religious leader, could have a famous wine/alcohol business. even drugs.

ASTEROID FAMA 408 IN THE HOUSES ⬎

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the first house ⟶ having this asteroid in this house can make someone known because they influence over people, can be due to their beauty or the way they carry themselves, [charisma], can be known because of their body. could be destined to be famous as it is the house of self and life-path. could have a reputation of being glamorous, could be known for their temper or something about their face.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the second house ⟶ having this asteroid in this house can make someone known because of their singing voice, or just voice in general. could be known for being a famous collector, or could be known because of how they earn their money. could be known because of a love-affair, and this placement is an indicator of being a socialite or becoming one.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the third house ⟶ having this asteroid in this house can make someone known because of comedy, or they could have a famous relative or be the famous relative. could be an industry plant, could become famous because of who they're associated with or could become famous with the help of advertising. can become famous due to gossip being spread about them. could be a famous writer, specifically novelist.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the fourth house ⟶ having this asteroid in this house can make someone known because of the family they come from, or they can make their family famous. once again can become famous because people sexualise their money, can be wealthy because of a will that included them. someone having this asteroid can also become famous because of interior design, could be famous from a love-affair. or having a popular enemy, could have a parent thats known in their community.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the fifth house ⟶ asteroid fama here can make someone famous because of their sensuality, could become famous due to be a good dancer/entertainer. could be someone who streams, can be a gamer. could be famous because they're an actor/actress, can be famous because of their child, or their child would be famous, could be in a famous film. could have a lover that is popular, if someone is risqué could be a famous porn-star.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the sixth house ⟶ asteroid fama here can make someone famous because of the job they're in. could be famous in the animal industry, could be famous for making clothes. could become a famous chef, or since its the 6H they can become famous on anything they put their mind into, [majestic virgo], like 4H, this individual can have a popular enemy. or someone from your mother's side can be popular.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the seventh house ⟶ asteroid fama here can make someone famous because of a relationship they are in. could be a industry plant, can become famous because of rumours spread about them, can become famous because of their charisma and beauty, could be someone who is known to climb the social ladder. could belong to a popular company, or could win a contest that makes them popular, could have a popular spouse, or popular grand-children. could be someone who is known because of their style as well, could become a stylist.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the eighth house ⟶ asteroid fama here can make someone famous because of their sensuality, becoming famous because something 18+ might've been exposed about them. could be people because of the influence they have over other people, might be known for being a whistleblower. could become famous because they help others transform themselves, being someone who might've manifested the fame they wanted. could be in a money scandal, could become famous because of things reported about them. people might find them very magnetic and people could obsess over them thus becoming famous.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the ninth house ⟶ having this asteroid in the ninth house entails that you can become rich because of your knowledge, because of your sense of humour, you can be someone who is known for trading, vlogging your travels, could become famous for your beliefs. this is an indicator of gaining world wide fame as well, could have a popular future spouse and becoming known because of how people admire you. can become popular in a university, and being able to gain a cult size fandom.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the tenth house ⟶ having this asteroid in the tenth house already gives fame, being known for being talented, skilled in the arts you pursue and being someone who knows how to handle popularity. you can be skilled with who you want to partner with, another social climber indicator. becoming popular because you're usually under a spotlight, people might respect you for what you do which can aid you on your route to success. can become famous due to a brand/business, someone from your father's side of the family can help you to become famous. can become a known political figure, being someone who is known because of your prestige and profession.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the eleventh house ⟶ having this asteroid in the tenth house can make someone an influencer, becoming popular because of a friend, or being the friend that makes other people in your social circle popular. becoming famous because of your creativity or uniqueness, could be famous in a specific community. can also become famous because of their political views and their rebellious nature. might become famous because of the parties they throw, technology the create, another indicator of being a famous vlogger/youtuber.

♇ asteroid fama 408 in the twelfth house ⟶ having this asteroid in the tenth house can entail that someone would become popular because of the way peope would idolise them---and the hard to reach energy they could embody, it'll make people live through them. could become famous because of their artistry, being a song-writter, film-maker or script-writer. could become famous due to wild spread gossip. people might also involve them in conspiracies that can make them become more known. could be known for their alcohol/wine-making. could have a famous stalking story.

ASTEROID FAMA 408 ASPECTING AXIS ⬎

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting the ascendant ⟶ the asteroid positively aspecting the ascendant [sextile/trine/conjunction] can make someone have a recognisable face, or they could be perceived as if they're made for the fame. people might easily warm up to them and even favour them. could have glowy skin? could look good with orange/yellow. if negatively aspecting the ascendant [square/opposition/conjunction] the kin might have a hard time adapting to fame, or people might not like them at first, finding them someone who isnt versatile and adaptable.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting the imum coeli ⟶ the asteroid positively aspecting the imum coeli [sextile/trine/conjunction] shows that there were people in your family that might've saw the potential in you when you were younger. could indicate of having a supportive family, and people who always supported you when you were younger. though if it does negatively aspect the imum coeli [square/opposition/conjunction] it could show that your family would like to remain private when you become famous and that's nothing bad, but there could be some envy coming from some of them, and bringing on forces who have not supported you when you spoke about your want of success.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting the descendant ⟶ the asteroid positively aspecting the descendant [sextile/trine/conjunction] shows that you could marry someone famous, or get into contracts that would favour you well. this can bring you a supportive community, and you might be able to find friendships that'll make you happier. on the other hand, if the asteroid negatively aspects the descendant [square/opposition/conjunction], can indicate that a lot of people would be jealous of how you're becoming popular, you could get into contracts that might make you feel trapped, or you could feel like you get options that you think doesnt suit what you want.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting the midheaven ⟶ the asteroid positively aspecting the midheaven [sextile/trine/conjunction] entails that most of the things you do can put you under a spotlight, many of the projects you do would have easy and positive responses. you might feel like you are liked by authority in the industry. might find it easier than others to have a claim for your success. although if your aspect is negative to the midheaven [square/opposition/conjunction] it could mean that people could always have something to say about everything you do. you might be easily overwhelmed by the focus you gain from other people.

ASTEROID FAMA 408 ASPECTING INNER PLANETS ⬎

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting the sun ⟶ having this asteroid aspecting the sun could make someone have the urge to achieve knowledge and accomplishment from other people. becoming famous because they're an actor/actress and sometimes having both the sun and fama aspecting each other gives a slight push to the destiny of someone being famous. if the asteroid positively aspects the sun [sextile/trine/conjunction], this could mean that you might find it easy to gain status and other people's attention, there could be a lot of people who have their faith in you and when you become famous you could become honoured. if negatively aspected, [square/opposition/conjunction], can make an individual self-righteous and shallow when it comes to their and what they want. you or other people could lack loyalty, willing to step on people's toes to get what you want.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting the moon ⟶ having this asteroid aspecting the moon could make someone achieve a big audience, easily praised and people might takes pictures of them all the time. might've always known they were going to become famous/wealthy. if fama and the moon positively aspect each other, [sextile/trine/conjunction], this could entail that you could get a career from being creative, involving music, poetry etc, fame can make you become very grateful for what you have and receive, but if it negatively aspects the moon, [square/opposition/conjunction], fame could make the individual very depressed, might even want to hide away from everyone, could be those who take the hermit periods for mental health reasons.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting mercury ⟶ having this asteroid aspecting mercury can make someone gain fame quickly, especially due to them being liked people. they can be a person who attracts younger fans, but fans who are very talkative. when fama is positively aspecting mercury, [sextile/trine/conjunction] this can show that this individual can gain fame for being an advisor, or just for their skills, being someone who gains fame because they know how to speak well and can be really funny people. if negatively aspecting mercury [square/opposition/conjunction] the native can find themselves quickly having fame and quickly losing it, but sometimes they can be known for something that gets brought up from time to time. can also be known for quarrelling other people.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting venus ⟶ having this asteroid aspecting venus can make someone gain fame due to their beauty, people might find them likeable and to be someone who is known for being able to create good art. you could gain fame because of the type of relationships you get into as well. to have venus positively aspecting fama [sextile/trine/conjunction], this could imply that you can be known for being an actress/actor, or people just easily admire you, can become an influencer if you are on the internet. can become famous due to your love interests and for the jewellery/clothes you wear. if these two points negatively aspect each other, [square/opposition/conjunction], you can be known for being someone who doesnt get into good relationships, people might find your outfits *interesting* being someone who becomes famous due to your arrogance/ignorance, and even bad temper. associating yourself with the wrong people as well.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting mars ⟶ this asteroid aspecting mars can make someone have ardour to gain fame, and due to this people will compliment and respect them for their journey, can become famous fpr being an athlete, entertainer or for just being perceived as "sexy". if asteroid fama and mars are positively aspecting each other [sextile/trine/conjunction] this could mean that you could be someone who is willing to get every opportunity that can help you climb the fame ladder, being someone who can become famous by being a dancer, or even becoming famous by being a known race driver, can also be known for your brute strength. and if asteroid fama and mars is negatively aspecting each other [square/opposition/conjunction], this can imply that you can be known for getting into a lot of fights, accidents, being known for your temper, and for being someone who is competitive.

ASTEROID FAMA 408 ASPECTING OUTER PLANETS ⬎

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting jupiter ⟶ this asteroid aspecting jupiter can make someone known in the trading industry, could be someone who creates things that helps people socialise or sell or buy commodities. might be known because people can take advice from you, to the point that people can almost have this religious faith in you. if asteroid fama and jupiter are positively aspecting each other, [sextile/trine/conjunction] can imply that you can be known well for good script-writing, being someone who knows how to throw fun parties, and you can literally be known for the amount of achievement you get in life, this is another indicator of becoming wealthy/rich and you can find many companies/brands wanting to do deals and sponsors with you. if asteroid fama and jupiter are negatively aspecting each other this is an indicator of being known for being greedy, mean and over-indulgent. being an individual who likes to take over others and being someone who likes to command and control people too much.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting saturn ⟶ this asteroid aspecting saturn can make someone either quickly gain fame or have a path that takes it long to be given to them, they can be someone who might gain fame when they're a bit older, perhaps it could be like this because when they're younger they might not be able to deal with the success that comes to them. if asteroid fama and saturn are positively aspecting each other, [sextile/trine/conjunction] the individual could have a successful business, might be known for the company they associate themselves with and could connect themselves with people who help themselves reach their desired popularity. if asteroid fama and saturn are negatively aspecting each other, this can make individual known for not being the best behaved person. could be known for being a cold and rude person and if they have the desire to be a political person, can be found to be corrupted.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting uranus ⟶ the asteroid can make someone become famous during an event they wouldnt expect it to come to them, [could also make them have fame for a short amount of time, it depends on the other features within the individual's chart], can make someone an influencer and can be known for what they stand for, how they behave and their creative ideas. when the two aspect positively, [sextile/trine/conjunction], people are likely going to like them, can be given brand deals easily, and the type to help with their community with the commodities they receive. if the two aspect negatively, [square/opposition/conjunction] this could make someone egotistical with the fame they receive from other people, the type to want to change the people they hang around due to the fame they receive, could be considered as a famous person who's quite aloof. [imo that's not really a bad thing].

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting neptune ⟶ the asteroid aspecting this planet can make someone become famous due to them having glamour, artistry and for being deemed as someone who is dreamy. can be an actress/actor, film-maker, being someone who is known for their beauty as well. if the two positively aspect each other, [sextile/trine/conjunction] this could mean that people respect them for what they bring to the table, being known as someone who is spiritual, or even spiritually gifted, a lot of people might live through you because of this, can become other people's inspiration, for example being put on mood boards. if the two negatively aspect each other, [square/opposition/conjunction] might feel like their privacy is disrespected, some people might consider you to be a fraud, could be known for being delusional or even a drug-addict, could manifest into a situation where people literally want to be you, might get stalked.

♇ asteroid fama 408 aspecting the pluto ⟶ the asteroid aspecting this planet can make someone become famous because of the power and influence they have over other people, can be perceived as someone who is very seducing and can make people really allured to them. if the two positively aspect each other, [sextile/trine/conjunction], this can make the individual famous because they might just stand out, being instantly liked in whatever they're in, for example the influence maddy perez from euphoria had over people, it reminds me of that. can easily make money from other people, other people can easily get infatuated with them. if the two negatively aspect each other, [square/opposition/conjunction], this could mean that they could become famous due to a controversy, something about them could be revealed, could be private information even anything sexual. people could get very eerily obsessed with them, fame can be destructive for them or they can be destructive with the fame they receive, could spend too much money due to it.

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[metalomagnetic]

Either must die snippet

***A dear friend asked on discord if I have some EMD writing left, so here it is.***

----

Harry hadn’t stopped screaming since he entered the kitchen; he’s furious. It’s been a long time since he exploded in such righteous anger.

Cheeks red, jaws set, and those damned eyes of his glinting. Why, it’s almost like before, back in the war. Of course, now at least he can appear somewhat intimidating, what with the size of him. He doesn’t intimidate Voldemort, but it is easy to imagine he could make a random individual cower. Voldemort would like to see Harry going off like this on some pesky journalists or one of his stalker fans. It would be entertaining.

As it is, it’s not entertaining at the moment. It irritates Voldemort to be screamed at.

One flick of his wrist, and he could silence Harry. Another flick and he can send him crashing into the wall. To resist temptation, he drums his fingers on the table, reaches inside to find patience. It’s getting harder and harder to be patient these days. He had to suffer it for a while, but now he’s back in power. A Minister, not a war lord, yet people learned not to trifle with him, not to glare at him, not to talk back.

Even Harry learned, as the years passed by. He minded his business, and he let Voldemort be. Yet it’s not worth the trouble to put him in his place, now. He can already imagine the dramatics that would follow. Harry would break again, and Voldemort will either have to lock him in an attic, never to be allowed in public, or he’d have to put in the effort to build him back up, and he certainly lacks the patience for that. Hermione would be insufferable about it. Delphini would cry.

Harry must be aware of these unpleasant outcomes, too, because while he screams, he doesn’t dare do more than that. He cries, too, tears of pain and frustration and pure despair. That improves Voldemort’s mood a tad. Harry always looks good when he’s crying. “I asked for one thing!” his voice breaks, rough. “One thing! You have everything, and I said nothing- you use me, you use my name, you- I only asked for one thing.”

What a lie. Harry might not verbally ask for much, but those pitiful eyes of his ask plenty, and Voldemort gives it to him. The ungrateful brat.

“And you couldn’t let me have it! You’re a monster!”

Show him, a voice begs, a voice that was dormant for so long, but it’s waking up lately. Show him the monster. Show him how patient you’d been with him all these years. Show him how it could have been.

Voldemort ignores it. His fingers curl around the table, momentarily, because just drumming them isn’t enough anymore, he itches for his wand, but then the crisis is avoided, and he is in control, he won’t snap. He does stand, because it’s safe to do it, his temper is in check, and Harry tired himself out with his tantrum. “You asked for her life,” Voldemort reminds him. “She is alive.” Moly Weasley lives. Thought it seems a misfortune befell her earlier that day. Well earned. Delicious revenge. Harry, sadly, is not the type to enjoy the poetic justice, the mastery in this delivery of punishment.

She lives, like he wanted, she isn’t even in pain, but the score was settled. Fleetingly, he wonders if Bella is happy, if she laughs gleefully in the afterlife. Perhaps not- Bella was never one for poetry, for subtlety. She got her vengeance in blood and screams. Harry stares at him, shaking his head. “I hate you,” he whispers. Voldemort did not want to break him, but he broke, anyway. So fragile, this boy of his, despite his impressive muscles, he shatters like glass. “Nothing new,” Voldemort replies, and walks out of the kitchen.

As soon as he reaches the garden, he feels his anger rising, now that he isn’t focused on not hurting Harry until he explodes into a pile of blood and bones. He gets angrier and angrier with every step. He feels as impotent as Harry must feel. No matter how mad the boy was, how obviously hurting, he did not even think to draw his wand at Voldemort, or punch him, like he once did. He would have- for Molly fucking Weasley, he would have. Harry has few limits, but the Weasleys are one. Harry would crash and burn with them, for them, the world be damned. He didn’t, however, because he must know, deep down, that it wasn’t Voldemort. But he can’t admit it to himself, not consciously. Voldemort is a convenient scapegoat. Voldemort is a monster, rotten and evil, and it’s easier for Harry this way. Easier than the truth.

He Apparates to Lestrange Manor, and he thinks of Bella again. How odd- he hadn’t truly thought of her in years, but now he feels her around; when he walks to Lestrange Manor, is feels like before, like when he’d walk this path and knew he’d find her and Rodolphus inside. He doesn’t, of course. He finds a copy of her, instead. Bella left him copies of herself, echoes that remain to dwell the earth in her absence. Voldemort walks past Andromeda, strolls through the Manor, until he finds Rodolphus’ copy.

Voldemort knows Rabastan is guilty as soon as he lays eyes on him. That stiff posture, the fear in his eyes, even if he keeps his chin up, defiant. “Your wand,” he snarls. Andromeda followed him, she’s frowning, confused, asking what the matter is. The matter is that Voldemort was disobeyed. “Leave,” Rabastan begs her. “Leave,” Voldemort snarls at her. Andromeda is a cheaper copy of Bella, in all senses. Tamer, sadder, broken. But wiser. She leaves.

Rabastan gives up ‘his’ wand. It’s not his, of course, just like Voldemort suspected. He knew, as Harry was screeching, as Voldemort sat there trying not to snap, he was thinking how all this could have been accomplished. Delphini is at Hogwarts, after all. Impossible for her to also be at the Burrow. Unless she Apparated there. But she wouldn’t risk doing all that with her wand. It became quite obvious who would have given her a wand. “It had to be done,” Rabastan dares to speak. “You moved on, but I can’t; not until justice was served. You moved on, but Delphi couldn’t.” Delphini is a far better copy of Bella, compared to Andromeda. But, as Voldemort feared- you do not fear!- as Voldemort suspected, she is no true copy of her mother. Oh, she’s her spitting image, she has some Black traits in her personality, but no- Delphi is his copy. The anger reaches its peak. Voldemort always treasured Rabastan over most others, awarded him more leeway than most others. But Rabastan is no Harry, he’s no Delphini, and Voldemort snaps.

He reminds Rabastan who he serves, whose mark is on his arm. Useless, of course. Rabastan was never one to cow for pain, nor learn from it. Yet his pain serves to soothe some of Voldemort’s anger, lets him take it out on him. Another convenient scapegoat.

(-)

She does walk like Bella, a confident, defiant tilt to her hips. She walks loudly, proudly, as if used to have others look at her in awe, covet her. She brought her heels, even if the path to the Forbidden Forest is not exactly best suited for heels. Whenever she angers him, she knows to make herself look even more like her mother.

Once, when he searched her mind, he saw Rodolphus teaching her this, on the night before he left her at Rowle’s. “It’s best if you look like her,” he told her, advising her to let her hair free, to wear the dresses Bella favoured. “He treasured her above all others, and, in time, I hope he’ll treasure you, too.” She doesn’t stop at a respectable distance, like Bella would have done when she knew she messed up, when she angered him. No. Delphini comes close, closer than anyone dares.

She’s taller than Bella already, and the heels almost bring her up to his chin. She looks up, and those are his eyes, that is his glare, his defiance, his stubbornness. “What potion did you give her?” “My own invention,” Delphini says, and pride flushes stronger on her face. “They won’t detect it.” “And if they do, then what is the problem, no?” Voldemort asks. “Who is going to suspect a perfect school girl? And if they do suspect her, who is going to blame the Minister’s daughter? Who would dare arrest her?” Delphini shrugs.

“If you plan on using my influence to stay out of trouble, if you know you can easily fall back on me to protect you, then you should discuss things with me before you do them.” “Why bother,” she spits. “You would have said ‘no’. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” He should have tortured Rabastan more, because not all the anger is out of his system. Furry comes back hot, coursing through his veins, going to his head. “Ask for forgiveness, then,” he hisses, and he takes the step that separated them, towers over her. If she wants to play these games, he’ll play them. She will lose. It’s time for her to learn to lose- Harry spoiled her, far too much. He ignored Voldemort’s warnings that Delphini shouldn’t get away with everything she does, that he should push back, whenever she tests them.

As always, Harry’s kind, tolerant heart, explodes spectacularly in his face.

Delphini doesn’t cower, not truly, but he can detect the current of fear that passes through her. Strangely, it does nothing to improve his mood. Terrifying people usually soothes his fury, but now it just taints it with an unknowable feeling. “I thought you loved Harry,” he says, softly.

“I do!” Her fingers curl into fists at her side. Her neck is bent back uncomfortably, trying to keep Voldemort’s gaze. “She’s alive, isn’t she? Like he asked. She loves Harry, didn’t forget him, and she’ll no doubt dote over him, like a mother. In fact, now that she only remembers loving him, she’ll love him even more! I took nothing from Harry! He can have his pretend mummy! I only took away the memories of all her living children! It’s only fair!”

Delphini’s voice gets louder. Defensive. “She stole my mother from me! So it’s only fair she forgets all the beautiful memories she has with her children, memories she didn’t let me form with my mother. It’s only fair she will only remember her dead son, like I have to remember my dead mother, every time I step foot into the Great Hall, where that harpy took her from me. From us! You lost her, too! And now Molly Weasley cannot remember her husband, either! It’s fair, it is!”

It is beautiful, he agrees. It is poetic and it is just. It is perfect. However.

“You knew he’ll blame me for it; you understand he’s devastated; you understand how he’ll avoid me now, how he’ll suffer, how he’ll moan and whine at me for months on end, start drinking again, retreat into his spare bedroom and rot there for who knows how long. You are perfectly aware Hermione will blame me, too. That it could potentially harm my work. You knew this would affect me. And you did it anyway.” He cups Delphini’s face, and she finally flinches, though she doesn’t draw back.

So beautiful, this child. So intelligent. She loves Voldemort, understands him like no other. His perfect girl. If Voldemort would have ever wanted a daughter, if he’d have been given the chance to make her, build her from scratch- this is what he’d have imagined. Only, he still wishes she would have been more like Bella, or Rodolphus, or Harry; it would have been easier. For him, and for her. Alas, she is not like them. She is like him.

“She deserves it,” Delphini insists. “She hurt me!” Ever her tears are perfect, pretty shapes, clear, trailing down her cheeks. “That never works with me, Delphini,” he reminds her, using his thumb to brush one tear away. “I know!” she hisses. “Nothing works with you! That’s why I didn’t ask! Because you give Harry everything he asks, you are so attentive to provide him with what he needs, but you never care about what I want. What I need. I asked you to punish her, you promised me, remember? When I first met Ron. You promised me! But then Harry asked you to spare her, and you did what he wanted. You forgot about me, about my pain-“

“Shut up,” he says, softly. “I allow you far more than I would anyone else. Harry is my prisoner, he does only what I allow him to do, even if he deluded himself into thinking otherwise. I give you freedom. I don’t make decisions for you. I accept you as you are. But-“ he takes his hand away. “Do not trespass against me, Delphini,” he warns her. “If you want to hurt others, don’t use your mother as an excuse to do it. More importantly, don’t hurt people that are useful to me. Ask before you pull something like this again. And when I say ‘no’, better heed it. Or leave. Go far away, and make trouble there. This is my country, and nothing happens inside it without my say so. I worked for sixty years to subdue this island. If you want that kind of power, you will have to work for it, too.”

[scaramouche-bully]

— ☆ Rematch

— Eager to have another opportunity to see Jing Yuan and Igor face off, you easily agree to play as referee for what you believe will be another fight of fists.

Includes: Igor + Jing Yuan

[ Sub ] Gender-neutral reader Contains: Poly relationships, sweat, voyeurism, rough sex, stomach bulge, crying, begging, unprotected sex, kissing, coming untouched, cumming in pants + alluded Igor x Jing Yuan.

[ masterlist ]

I finally finished the Wardance event and immediately fell in love with Igor to the point I wrote this in one sitting. It is unfortunate that we may not see him in future events but I hope we can. I'd like to see more Igor and Jing Yuan interactions.

Rumors travel fast on a ship filled with long-life species, what else is there to do when you've had so many years to explore every possible hobby you could find? Naturally, the ever-changing gossip of new developments that can change with a flip of a coin makes everyone a little excited. Whispers behind painted nails, lingering eyes that gaze up and down, and even shy giggles that are poorly hidden behind paper fans. The rumor mill is fast and latches onto anything that could be exploited for entertainment, you would know since it's been your main source of income for a few hundred years. Initially, being a journalist wasn't what you had in mind when you first arrived on the Luofu, but many things in your life suddenly crashed into you and expected you to figure it out. Your boss suddenly decided to cover an entirely different person of interest when the deadline was only a few hours away. The near-death experiences of wandering too deep into places known for its mara-struck monsters roaming about, all for a better picture. Even now, being suddenly asked to play as a referee for the most hyped contestants of the Wardance. An exclusive rematch between the Luofu's ringmaster and the outworlder from Belobog.

Distantly, in the far recesses of your mind which titters on the edge of rationality, are amused that you can finally answer the fan-made question that's been buzzing all over the Luofu.

Igor does fuck like he fights. Hard, fast, and he doesn't pull any punches.

"M-Mister Igor- ah! Slow...down!" you cry out, nails sinking into metal and flesh. You're starting to grow a little crazy, as if the mara decided to strike now even though you're far too young for the disease to form through old age. It's far too hot, Igor runs warmer than anyone given the coldness of his planet, but you're starting to believe that the air is turning fuzzy from the sheer heat radiating off him. It doesn't help that he wants to press himself as close to you as he physically can, the sweat on his body smearing against your skin that you think should feel disgusting, but only makes you burn hotter. You feel like you're melting inside and out, from the tip of your toes up to your brain that's turning dumber and dumber with each passing second.

"Sorry, where I'm from, there's no time for gentle loving. Besides-" Igor punctuates his word with a harsh thrust against your battered hole that sends you squealing, "I don't lose to the same opponent twice."

The declaration awakens another layer into Igor's "fighting spirit", he pulls out until only the tip of his cock is still being clung to by your hole, before burying his cock so deeply you swear you can feel it in the back of your throat. He fucks with all his strength, the loud slapping noises of his skin hitting yours fill the room, almost loud enough that your spectator can't hear any more of your near-hysterical moans. Jing Yuan has the best seat in the house, hovering just above you as he watches Igor bully his cock inside you, a tiny bump in your stomach appearing and disappearing with each thrust. Droplets of sweat trail down Igor's chin until they fall on your fucked-out face. He wonders what it tastes like? His own cock strains against the fabric of his pants at the thought, twitching and weeping pitiful drops of precum but he keeps his hands obediently at his side. It's not his turn yet.

"Ah!! No! I-Igor! Ah- my...you're gonna break me!!" your cries are ignored when Igor leans down to smother your words of mercy. It's almost cute that Igor kisses sweetly, as if he's trying to soothe the tears streaming down your cheeks despite being the cause of them. The coolness of his metal arm sends tiny shivers up your spine as it settles on the arch of your spine, pressing you even closer until you're molded against him. His other hand hitches your thigh onto the curve of his waist, a new angle for him to drive himself deeper. Small little grinds of his cock against your most sensitive spots send shocks through your body before you finally snap, a muffled moan swallowed by Igor as you cum. It doesn't stop the man, only fueling his actions as he pounds into you with utmost desperation, strings of slick being dragged in and out of your hole. Jing Yuan's eyes dim at the sight, his tongue unconsciously running over his lips. His fingers twitch slightly, his resolve and discipline wavering in the face of such temptation. The only reason he doesn't move is the near primal look in Igor's eyes that snap to his, a silent command to wait his goddamn turn.

"Don't cry. You'll like—you'll love this, just toughen it out a bit more," Igor mutters against your ear. His hand has wandered to caress the bulge in your belly, pressing his fingers down against the bump every time it pops up. Igor's hips stutter at the feeling, muscles tensing and twitching as he struggles with his strength to not cause any unwanted pain. It's been a while since he's had the time to indulge in a warm body. Between the matches and his ambition to fight for his home, he hasn't had the time or intention to accept any of the more personal proposals he's been given. There were more important things to be doing, if he needed to vent any frustration, he could be training. So to say he's a bit pent-up is an understatement.

"Fuck- Fuck! Can I come inside?" Igor groans, hands moving to dig into your waist as he physically pushes and pulls you up and down his cock like a ragdoll. You can only give a jumbled slurry of noises that vaguely sounds like a yes before Igor tenses, a low groan as he pumps his cum deeper inside you. The room finally calms down, allowing for a brief respite as Igor gathers his bearings to finally let you go, the sound of your body dropping onto the bed lifeless has him looking up worried.

"Had this been an official match, you would have been disqualified for knocking out the referee," Jing Yuan muses, his head tilting to the side until his white hair covers one of his golden eyes. He's rewarded by Igor's punched-out chuckles, his body still panting as he comes down from his high. Igor slowly maneuvers you more comfortably on the bed, easing your legs down so you don't wake up with a cramp. With great difficulty, because you're so warm, he pulls out with a groan, globs of his cum pooling onto the bedsheets. With one deep inhale, Igor tilts his head up to escape the haze, and with his exhale, golden eyes meet gold.

"You need help with that?" Igor asks as he stares Jing Yuan in the eye. He doesn't need to look down to see the mess in the lieutenant's pants. He knows that despite not being touched and the calm facade, if he were to pull Jing Yuan's pants down he would see the same white cum that's still leaking from your hole.

[ozzgin]

I now wonder how yandere politician and bratty reader met…The man really looked at us, conversed with us, and thought, “That’s the one” 😂

He’s a high functioning masochist or something 🥰

Now I wanna get a reaction out of him if I were to tell him I was bored with him, and wanted to end the relationship 😈

A masterpiece as always, Ozzgin ❤️

-👘

One has to wonder how a regular civilian ends up in the same room as an important politician. Maybe Reader was a journalist? One of those "Get to know the person representing you" articles, and they sent her to spend a day with the popular candidate.

Reader is being a nightmare, and Mr. Politician is struck by the realization: only he has the power and resources to deal with this spoiled monstrosity. He took one for the team and he's proud of it. No one else can handle Reader.

The more I think about it, the more I feel like his calmness extends to unnatural lengths, to the point it becomes uncanny. So, if you were to suggest breaking up with him, he wouldn't even flinch. He'd smile the way he always does, that professional, assertive smile he uses to win over the masses. "I already know you don't mean it", he'd say. "Such a silly idea isn't worth entertaining, love." If you meant it before, you won't now. He'll make sure of it.

Also, I'm glad it was to your liking! I'm starting to suspect you and some other people here have corrupted me into letting loose. When I began posting here in summer, I could barely type any mention of intercourse, and here I am now casually describing a public nut n go. :')

[undying-love]

Datalounge comments compilation

Remember to take everything here with a grain of salt:

“Ok guys someone told me about this site and i have been loving it so far. Anyway my great uncle who lived in Liverpool told me a story some years ago. He told me that John and Paul actually were living together at some point during the sixties (John even stated it in a 70’s interview) and he is invited by a friend of his to a party that John and Paul are having at their house. He said as he walked in he saw Paul, who was walking around in nothing but a white shorts and John some feet away playing pool. He said throughout the day John and Paul is behaving like a regular couple and he is shocked since so many other ppl are there. Later in the evening as he is getting ready to leave Paul casually walks over to him and thanks him for coming and he leaves. He told me this some years after John’s death because he was sure Paul would have admitted they were a couple, well it has not happened and I don’t think he ever will. I really don’t know what to make of this story since he was the first person I ever heard claiming John and Paul to be a couple but apparently he is not the only one! ”

“Since everyone is anonymous here, I guess I can give a bit of info I got from a female friend of mine who at one time was Paul worked as one of Paul’s assistants. According to her Macca is a bisexual, who makes no secret of this when he is around his inner circle. She does not know for certain if John and Paul were involved but she suspects it since to this day whenever John’s name is brought up he acts in her words ‘like a widow’ and he also addresses John in present tense. He would say things like, ‘John thinks that the music should be like this,’ and during his bitter divorce from Heather he was saying, ‘John says that this is getting nasty.’ Kind of creepy."

“Isn't it well known that Starting Over was written about Paul? At least I heard someone in the music industry mention it, and that Paul knows it. Also, it was reported that Paul locked himself in his music studio and listened to the song repeatedly after John died.”

“I worked in the music industry briefly from 67-70 and I have seen for myself some very revealing things but I don't find it appropriate to dish it out here. One day it will be revealed, definitely not while Paul or Yoko is alive maybe soon after. I'll return here to read all the threads. The most I can say for now, is Yoko gave a very watered down version of the names the Apples' staff gave to Paul, though they also gave a very derogatory name for John as well.”

“Actually the John and Paul rumours did not only emerge in our time. As early as the middle sixties rumours were beginning to spread in the music industry about what exactly the J/P relationship was involved. My grandfather was a entertainment journalist in the 60's and he stated that people were becoming suspicious about John and Paul as early as 1964. He also said that someone had made a comment about seeing John and Paul holding hands backstage during the music Lennon and McCartney tv special, though no one believed the person at the time. According to him the Beatles' camp began to go into panic mode and even went so far as to demand John and Paul no longer sit together in interviews. So believe me this John and Paul thing is nothing new. People have been creating stories about people's 'gayness' for years.”

“This John and Paul thing is so dated. I am from Liverpool and since the 60's rumours were swirling about John and Paul possibly being 'queers.' At the time I didn't think much of it, since it was guys who fought with them as kids who were spreading the rumours and so I assumed it was jealousy that fueled the rumours.”

“My uncle was a sound engineer for Granada tv studios in 60's and actually met the Beatles because he worked on 'the Music of Lennon and McCartney' special. He actually chatted with Ringo behind the scenes briefly but didn't speak with the others. I remember him telling me years ago that he was surprised by Paul's mannerisms because as he put it, it was overly 'swishy.' He also stated that John and Paul acted very strange throughout the evening. According to him they followed each other continuously even when it was not required, as one got up so did the other, as one sat so did the other, they would finish each sentences, and they were often seen staring at each other for excruciating periods of time (his exact words) he said behind the scenes people were joking about them being a couple because they seemed so close. My uncle told me this years ago but I always summed it up to their brotherly relationship. I am now reconsidering my position.”

"The one time I was ever actually in a room with Paul, zillion people between me and him (and no way I'm gonna bother him, all of us who travel in celeb circles have people we're fans of and all of us inexplicably try to hide it to seem "cooler"), he was hitting whiskey a little hard, and apparently it makes him confessional because he started talking loudly about himself and John, and how hard it was not to have him there. (Of course I paid attention and scooted a little closer; when a Beatle speaks about a Beatle, and you've heard rumors about both of them, you want the tea.) I remember him saying something along the lines of not a day passing that John's not still in it with him, but it's not like he can pick up a phone and say, "Hey, just needed to hear your voice today," and even when he got craggy responses, he still missed them. He misses it all, and it's bothering to him that he misses him more as time goes on -- it doesn't heal, he just learns new ways to bandage the wound. Went on and on, and stopped just short of saying too much. He was waxing rhapsodic about John's hands, and finally I think the people he was with noticed interlopers paying attention, and changed the topic".

“Saw this thread and decided I should post what I have heard. I can tell you that John and Paul never hid the fact that they were together in the 60's and they were referred to as music’s 'first official same sex couple' by those in their close music circles. I found this out from my mother who was a 'go for' for a music director in the 60's. She worked behind the scenes for the 'Help!' music video. She has seen John and Paul backstage and always refers to their behaviour around each other as cute, and claims after spending a few minutes with them it was obvious they were deeply in love. She said that George and Ringo would always excuse themselves whenever John and Paul began chatting up each other.”