#they were doomed to fail the poor things

[another-day]

“were we even really friends in this one?”

ii 16 really messed me up

alt under cut

this one doesn’t have the blur effect just because i like how the drawings looked

[ariasakka]

A Taste of Forbidden Pleasures

Jinshi smut! Fingering, 18+, virgin, female reader, obsessive Jinshi, oral, pussy eating, dick sucking, fingering, maybe tiny bit of size kink?

!!NON KINKY VERSION!!

kinky version posted. 

(Well maybe this might be kinky to some people but it’s not imo and isn’t compared to the other version.)

I felt like my original version might be a bit too kinky for the fandom so I made this one for people who aren’t really into kinky stuff

You’re both virgins, you both try your best not to take it too far. At first it was convincing yourself you’d never date Jinshi then it was convincing yourself you’d never fall in love with him because it was doomed to fail. After all you were a servant girl and he had high title, nobody would take it seriously. Clearly you failed and fell head over heels in love with him. You were both set on being eachothers forever and only partner no matter what. No matter the cost. That being said you both tried to tell each other it was best not to take it further than kissing.

Tonight the both of you were making out in his chambers as you always did. Only this time his kisses were more needy. He was whimpering inbetween each kiss. You were trying to contain yourself and not to the same. You succeeded on that but you were growing annoyingly wet with every kiss. His knee was inching closer and closer to your groin as the minutes went by. Jinshi knew his knee was creeping closer and closer to your sweet spot. He knew exactly what he wanted and he wanted to make you needy and whiny underneath him just like he always was under you when you make out with him on his lap like usual. Only this time he was on top of you so he had leverage. When Jinshi finally got his knee touching the sweet spot he longed for he felt a wet spot on the tip of his knee. You let out the sweetest gasp he’d ever heard in his life. He couldn’t contain himself. He left your mouth and started kissing up your neck until his lips met your ears and he cooed “Let me fuck you y/n, please”

You grab onto his robe not expecting him to say such a lewd thing “Jinshi no, you’d probably be too rough!”

He holds your face in his palms and looks down into your eyes with such a beautiful look. One almost too hard to resist. 

Jinshi “No I would not do you really think that about me?”

You pause for a moment before saying “It wouldn’t fit even if you were gentle.”

You knew quite a bit about sex so helping others wasn’t an issue but the few times you’d touched yourself you could tell you would have a hard time taking anything larger than your own fingers.

On the other hand you had taken lots of time practicing your skills with your mouth on vegetables. You had no doubt you’d be able to please him in that regard. You’d always expected to do something to him first. He always got a bit carried away with kissing you were worried he would have no idea what he was doing and hurt your poor insides even though you know sweet Jinshi would never mean to.

Jinshi would like to be more experienced than he is. Luckily he has done quite an embarrassing amount of reading up on the topic. He wasn’t too interested in doing that sort of thing with someone else. That is not until he met you. He had re-read all of the old books he did before and a large sum of new ones just to learn all the ways he could please you one day. In his alone time he had done some practicing with his fingers on various fruits such as peaches and oranges. He had no doubt he was quite skilled with his fingers at this point. He had no doubt he wouldn’t be able to please you now. If only you’d let him. He can be quite needy for you but he had practiced on enough fruits even an egg yolk to know his way around a vagina. That being said he did break a lot of egg yolk for the first few times but not after that. He practiced hundreds of times after that just to be sure he wouldn’t hurt you. A bit obsessive. But who wouldn’t be when it comes to the love of their life?

After a long pause you say “What if I do you first?”

Jinshi shakes his head no. “Next time.” He wants this to be about you. He’d spent countless nights imagining your face, your sounds, as he pleasured you. Though imagining your pretty little mouth or tiny hands on his cock was nice too he was in the mood for something else. For your release. 

Jinshi “Just my fingers please my love.”

You cross your arms “I said you’d be too rough.”

Jinshi “I’m gentle.”

You “Really?”

Jinshi smirks “Yes, especially with my fingers” 

You “You can barely contain yourself around me. The first time I said I love you back while kissing you came in your robe. How am I supposed to think you’d be gentle now hm?”

Jinshi “I’ll show you just. Trust me.”

You “Yeah whatever, you can never keep your lips off of mine kissing me aggressively 24/7 like you’re in heat.”

Jinshi “Yes I can”

He leaned down and kisses you gently. He teases his tongue on your lips, similar to how he would like to one day to your lips down below.

You can’t tell if his tongue on your lips moving the way on your lips they are is intentional but it only makes you want him more. You involuntarily grind onto his knee, getting lost in his soft kisses. He releases after a moment. Your lips feel cold you want him back. You let out a pout and try to pull his face back but he takes hold of your hand and holds it down above your head on the bed with his own. 

You “See, can’t keep your lips off of me.”

Jinshi “That was gentle no?”

You “Yes I suppose…”

You didn’t notice you were getting completely soaked on his knee. He pressed his knee to your pussy harder. Pressing down on your clit. Your eyes met his filled with lust.

Jinshi “You’re soaking my knee. Please. I just-I fucking need you pleaseeee y/n.”

You bite your lip “Okay.”

Jinshi needs to hear you say it “Yes?”

You “Yes.”

He gently removes your clothes until there’s nothing left but your soaked panties. He took much longer than you wanted him to. His slow kisses all over your body, taking his time, it was driving you crazy. You were the one that was hesitant at first but now all you wanted was for him to hurry up and take you. When you were in nothing left but your panties he traced his fingers along the hem with one hand and rubbed your hips with the other, taking in your beauty. 

You whine “Jinshi pleaseee.”

Jinshi “Can’t I admire how pretty my princess is? Alright Jinshi will hurry up, shh princess.”

He finally removes your panties. A string of wetness glistened as he removed them. Jinshi grazed his fingers along your pussy gently. Avoiding just the spot you wanted him to touch. You bucked your hips begging him to feel you where you needed most. Your face was so red anyone else would’ve thought he’d given you an aphrodisiac. He read up on foreplay. Oh, he read up on a LOT of foreplay. You were exactly where he wanted you. He spread your legs wide open and spit directly on your clit. He watched in awe at how you convulsed at the sensation.

He chuckled. “Alright, alright.” Jinshi traced his thumb up and down your slit gathering your sweet juices. Then he traced two fingers over your throbbing clit. He was much gentler than you expected him to be. You never expected you to be the needy one in this situation. You started moaning so loud you were sure everyone would’ve heard you if Jinshis house wasn’t so far away. 

Jinshi looked as you in awe “Fuck you sound so pretty for me, don’t hold back.”

You kept repeating a plea of “Jinshi please!” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to stop. He knew exactly what your body wanted from those begs. He began to place two fingers at your entrance. He gasped when he felt how tight you were. His books had always said to start with two fingers than add more but you were far too precious to him and he never wanted to hurt you. He removed the tips of both his fingers and settled with one. He lowered his middle finger gently into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. That went in much easier. He knew he would have to work on stretching his precious pretty girl out for a while before you could take his cock but he didn’t mind that one bit. Your hips started involuntarily moving on their own at the sensation of his finger. You were so sensitive under his touch. You knew you must have looked so stupid right now. How could the roles reverse into you being the needy one so fast? You desperately tried to hide your face in your hair or the sheets but all Jinshi did was brush the hair out of your face and force you to face him. “Don’t hide from me pretty. Aww so sweet, are you sensitive? I’ve got you. Let Jinshi do all the work okay princess.” He held your hips in place while he fingered you. Once he felt you opening up more he slowly slid his pointer finger inside you as-well. You tilted your head back. Jinshi felt you pulsing around him hard. He was obsessed He leaned down and started kissing your neck. He was moaning inbetween kisses. At this point he returned to being the needy one. He sounded as if he was almost enjoying this more than you. He can’t help but grind into your legs as he’s knuckles deep inside your perfect cunt. To your surprise despite how needy he’s gotten he’s still remaining just as gentle. His fingers filling your  hole mixed with Jinshi being a whimpering hard mess is sending you over the edge. You’d only came on your fingers a few times but this, this felt much more intense. Jinshi could feel you getting close. He lifts his head up from your neck to watch your face. He wanted to watch how beautiful his girl looked when she came all over his fingers. The feeling around his fingers as you came mixed with the look on your face was too much for Jinshi. He came all over his robe just as he was letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. You chuckled. You knew your Jinshi would return to his needy lusted out self. “Such a beautiful boy”

He releases himself from your cunt. 

Jinshi “Told you I’d be gentle.”

You “I’ll believe you next time.”

Jinshi “Better.”

Jinshi licked his fingers clean. The haze over his face from the taste of your juices was intoxicating. He nearly looks as if he’s drunk from just tasting you. “C-can I taste?”

You “You just did Jinshi.”

He kneels down resting his face just where he wants it “You know what I mean.”

You “Yes please”

You grab a fist full of his hair and lower his face down to your cunt. You’re so sensitive after just having came but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of him. The feeling of his tongue inside your walls is addicting. He can’t release his mouth from your lips. He is in love with your taste, with your feel, your insides are so soft on his tongue. On his lips. He loves it. You can tell he’s hard all over again just from the way he’s grinding into the sheets. You’d never heard much of men getting hard from eating a girl out and especially not getting hard again after they’ve came. You didn’t mind though. At this rate you’re all worked up again and desperate to taste Jinshi if he’ll let you. You’d seen him hard through his robe many times but never the real thing. You’ve wanted to many times but were too worried more would happen if you did. Now you don’t care. You pull him by the hair off of you and throw Jinshi on his back. You straddle his lap. Jinshi is confused he was enjoying his meal. 

Jinshi “Satisfied?”

You “No.”

Jinshi pouts “Was my tongue not to your liking princess?”

You “That’s not quite what I mean. I liked that very much.” You begin to take off his robe. You can fell his hardness pressing against your ass. Good that’s just what you wanted. 

Jinshi gasps, his cheeks grow bright red. “What are you-“

You “May I?”

Jinshi nods.

You begin to kiss down his chest and go to down lower. You palm his cock in your hand. “Mmm pretty.” you kiss the tip. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

Jinshi “Fuck princess-god. Ahh!”

You lick up the side of his cock while making eye contact “Want me to stop?”

He shakes his head no and grabs the back of your hair for something to hold onto. He tries to be soft he doesn’t want you to overdo yourself. 

You “You don’t have to hold back with my mouth you know. I don’t have a gag reflex.”

You appreciated how composed Jinshi was with his fingers but honestly you really wanted to see him let go. Not have control. At least your throat could handle that. 

Jinshi “What did you just say?”

You “I have no gag reflex.”

Jinshi sits up and places two fingers down your throat to test. He’d came many times imagining your mouth wrapped around his cock but he didn’t want to do too much if you wouldn’t be able to handle it. When his fingers bottomed out in your throat and you didn’t gag he hissed. He added a third finger because that was closer to the size of his cock. When you didn’t gag at that either he raised a brow and you smirked at him deviously. He began slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation. It felt nice to you. Jinshi removed his fingers. He was panting already just by the site of that. 

You “Believe me?”

Jinshi “Fuck I believe you!”

You “I want you to thrust into my throat with your dick.”

Jinshi “Are you sure my love?”

You “Yes please.”

Jinshi “What about when I cum?”

You “Just pull out and finish mostly on my chest. I don’t know if I’d like the taste just yet.”

Jinshi “I understand. Okay. Here, kneel on the stool that’s infront of the bed and I’ll stand infront of you.”

Your face lights up, you’re excited to see your lover let go. Your excitement has him leaking with precum. Once you’ve gotten on your knees atop of the stool he stands infront of you. His cock at perfect level with your mouth. You stick out your tongue eagerly. You grab hold of his hips inviting him inside. He grabs the back of your hair to push himself deep inside your mouth. You start bobbing your head to assure him you’re fine. You push his hand on the back of your head harder to motion him to let go. Once he’s assured you’ll be fine he starts thrusting down your throat. His pace is fast, though he still holds back slightly not wanting to hurt his princess. Jinshi is a moaning mess. You look so fucking pretty like this. To pretty. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last like this. He wants to do this to you all night. His hands are definitely never going to feel as good after this. While he’s busy bobbing your head up and down with one hand. You take hold of his free hand and place it on your breast. That sends Jinshi over the edge. He pulls out of your throat and finishes on your chest. 

You “Maybe next time you can cum inside.”

Jinshi pants “You’re going to kill me if you keep saying such things!”

You “You were such a good boy.”

Jinshi draws the both of you a bath. He carefully washes your body then you do his. After the both of you cuddle in his bed chambers. The both of you should get dressed but neither of you care if someone catches you anymore. 

You “You know Jinshi you’re oddly skilled.”

He smiles to himself proudly. He’ll tell you about his practice another time.

Kinky version ↓↓↓

[lodgersims]

As a Sims 2 player one of the most eerie things about playing the original game isn't necessarily the creepy/more liminal aesthetic or the repetitively endless gameplay, but the fact that almost all the pre-made Sims from the original game are inexorably doomed by the narrative.

There's something odd about Pleasantview specifically, where the majority of the returning Sim families live (save for Tara Kat, who seems... relatively fine). Like, the concept of the game is that twenty-five years have passed, and all of the returning characters are pre-baked into character arcs that communicate an unavoidable truth: You, the player, failed.

Bella Goth will disappear. Her brother (though in the original Sims we aren't aware that Michael Bachelor is her brother) will die, possibly murdered. Mortimer will be lost and alone. Cassandra will be stuck in an unloving engagement. The Newbie's daughter will be impoverished, a single mother whose husband died young, with two boys and another on the way. Daniel Pleasant will grow up to be a cheater. Jennifer Pleasant will never be an athlete like she wanted (her brother will). And though poor Johnny Burb never mentions Tucker anymore, you know that old dog died years ago. The Roomies, the Mashugas, the Hicks, the Charmings - all leave town... or worse, die out.

I think about Jeff Pleasant's bio in the first game: "Jeff and his family are new to the neighborhood. Can you help Jeff provide for his family and fulfill his lifelong goal of being the first man to walk on Mars?" And how it contrasts to Daniel's in the second: "Since his father Jeff died without achieving his dream of going to Mars, Daniel has felt an overwhelming guilt."

And sure, you can save the families of Pleasantview. You can choose for Mary-Sue to not go to work that day, or maybe Daniel never pursues Kaylynn Langerak again. You can give Cassandra a happy marriage, tame Don Lothario's womanizer ways. You can financially save Brandi Broke. You can get John Burb another dog. You can get Jennifer the career she always wanted. You can defy the scripted in-game prompts and say "No. I don't want to play like this." You can break the cycle, every time you play.

And yet, at the end of the day, no matter what you do... uninstalling the game and reinstalling it, maybe just deleting that Neighborhood folder, they are reset back to exactly where they were again. They're doomed to repeat it forever.

The game makes it clear that there are some things you aren't meant to change. A genie lamp or a Resurrect-O-Nomitron can bring back sims like Michael Bachelor, but you will pay for it in your neighborhood deteriorating to corruption. And no matter what you do, no force in the universe can bring Bella Goth back. The one in Strangetown isn't even really her, after all. And maybe she isn't. They say they deleted her in development, replaced her with a clone. Maybe that's what Bella Goth in Strangetown is. A clone. Maybe we were wrong, after all. Maybe she was never abducted by aliens. Maybe Don Lothario killed her. Maybe Dina Caliente killed her. Maybe Mortimer did. But you can't bring her back, no matter what you do. Recreate the original Bella, pixel by pixel, extract her data, make your zombie Bella. Build your own monster. Create a sim. But she will never recognize her family. Never see them as her own.

And she was never meant to.

[timidgrace]

art is silly.

when you two were dating, he’d always cling onto you— kissing, biting your neck, fondling your tits and pinching your nipples ‘til he got a reaction out of you, but even then, he would never stop.

and when he was alone, either because you were with family or doing something else, he’d always, always have to masturbate, otherwise he’d stop functioning.

he had a folder on his phone with pictures of you, videos, too— and gosh, there were so many. those pictures took up at least 90% of his storage.

you, a hand buried between your slick-smeared thighs, desperately grasping onto the base of your vibrator… you get it. all for the sake of your lovely boy, you were doing everything imaginable just for some pictures.

but then the two of you broke up, very unfortunately.

and the only thing to keep himself from going insane were those precious little things he kept in his gallery. until patrick had to ruin his fun.

“you’ve got to delete them, art,” he’d said once. “or else i will.”

since threats always worked with the poor blond, he did as he was told. deleting all the pictures he had of the two of you together as he grumbled about ‘how stupid this was’. the ones in france, london, italy, the ones atop him, straddling his hips as your nails dug desperately onto his shoulder—

ah, damn it.

“ah, damn it.”

now, here he is, lying in bed with his thumb hovering over a particulaly tantalizing video he hadn’t seen yet: there you are, casually spread out on his couch, a lazy finger flicking through your wet, so deliciously wet folds, your other hand absentmindedly running across your body— pinching your nipple, nails tickling the skin of your stomach, then back up.

my god, is he doomed.

a desperate hand quickly undoing his belt, hips lifting up the tiniest bit so he can get his jeans down to his thighs, the fabric of his boxers following along. and then he palms his penis, hard as a rock. he sighs.

placing his phone between his chest, he lazily, lazily strokes himself, up and down, going through the motions while listening to the rustling of the sheets.

then, a sigh from you. a deliciously warm sigh, music to the ears.

he perks up immediately, leaning against the headboard and grasping his phone with the hand that’s not slick and already a bit slimey.

he watches. watches and watches every single movement you make, from the tightening of your hand around your mound to the slip of a single fingerprint inside you, then back out. to the sighs that escape your lips, to the moan you try (yet you fail miserably, and he couldn’t be more thankful) to stifle by capturing your lower lip between your teeth.

his grip around his cock tightens painfully. he’s squeezing so much that pre-cum starts to leak.

another stroke. then another, another, another, and he’s already going all crazy.

“mmh, fuck, no, no, pleasepleaseplease—“ what’s he even saying ‘no’ for? he doesn’t understand himself during these moments.

just as you finish, exactly at the same second, he cums. thick, warm sperm flies around briefly before landing on his stomach and his hand. it also did go on the sheets a little bit, so that’ll take a while to clean. he has to be quick, otherwise patrick will find out and be absolutely pissed with him.

art is the biggest gooner ever.

[emeraldspiral]

So another interesting thing about Jane Eyre is its take on relationship inequality.

Like, Jane is 18 at the beginning of the story and Rochester is said to be something like 35-38. And it's not casually brushed aside like that was normal back in the day. It wasn't. Concerns about the age gap are raised within the text. But the story emphasizes that Jane feels comfortable accepting Rochester's proposal, despite the age difference, the class difference, and him being her boss, because Jane feels that Rochester regards her as an equal. When they converse, Jane doesn't feel any tension, like she has to impress him or try to read his mind and say whatever he wants to hear. She feels that he respects her and values her thoughts and isn't compelled to use his power against her if she says something to displease him. Around the midpoint of the story, Jane believes that Rochester is going to marry another woman, and resolves to leave because she's heartbroken, believing that because she is poor and plain Rochester can't possibly be as hurt by their parting as she is, and he'll forget her and move on long before she does. But it turns out to be the opposite. After finding out about Bertha, Rochester begs Jane to stay and insists he'll be miserable forever without her, while Jane, still thinking she's too poor and plain to ever attract someone like him again, resists all temptation and leaves him. And she does this specifically because she feels that if she were to compromise her morals and self-respect to be Mr. Rochester's mistress, then he would lose respect for her and the relationship would fall apart. It was only by maintaining her integrity that the relationship could stay in-tact when the reconciled at the end.

St. John Rivers on the other hand, I don't think is given a definite age, but I think he's intended to be a much younger man, probably in his early 20s. He is poor and without relations aside from his sisters or any other connections, just as Jane. Jane finds out they're actually cousins at the same time she learns she's come into a vast fortune that was willed to her rather than the Rivers, but decides to share her fortune equally with them. So she arguably had more social capital, even though she made an effort to put St. John on equal footing with her, because the money was hers by right and she could've presumably cut him off at any time, just as easily as Rochester could've terminated Jane from her job.

And yet, Jane's relationship with St. John is vastly more unequal than her relationship with Rochester. Even though Jane practically worshiped Rochester but only cares for St. John as a brother and is acutely aware of his faults, she still finds herself desperately craving his approval in a way she never did with Rochester. And St. John is willing to exploit that intentionally. He asks her to do things she doesn't want to and make sacrifices for him just because he knows she'll do anything to please him, and that's why he thinks she's the perfect wife for him. Where Rochester tries to explain himself and persuade Jane not to leave him by addressing her concerns, St. John basically tries to command Jane to marry him and refuses to accept her "no" as final. He withholds affection from Jane as a tactic to get her to compromise in order to reconcile with him when he's the one who should be apologizing to her and considering her needs and not just his own. Jane knows that she can't ever be happy with him because he doesn't respect her and his lack of respect only makes her want to seek his approval, which he is all too happy to exploit for his own benefit.

But Jane ultimately stays firm and rejects St. John's proposal of a loveless marriage, just as she rejected Rochester's proposal of an unlawful marriage, because both situations were doomed to fail if she didn't put her own self-respect first.

So this novel from 1847 was really saying that power dynamics aren't pure black and white. Age and class and wealth and status can be a factor in making a relationship unequal, but you can also be equal on pretty much all social axis and still have inequality in a relationship. What's really important is that there's mutual respect.

[chuluoyi]

✎ attraction

- gojo satoru x reader

to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

genre: high school!gojo being a menace, jealous!gojo but he doesn’t realize it? enemies to lovers, fluff, gojo begins pining on you

note: thank you anon who asks for gojo falling in love with a first year! i added some spice though haha

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Back in 2006—

There was this tiny weeny part of Gojo that was like... questioning, how did his best friend Geto Suguru catch your eye, whereas he didn’t? Like, at all?

"I want Geto."

"Hah?" Gojo arched a righteous brow, swiftly turning your way—feeling the stings of irritation gnawing at him. "What?"

You shot him a look. “I said, you suck and I’m lamenting that I’m paired with you instead of Geto for this mission.”

Once upon a time, you did hate him for obvious reasons as other people do. He was obnoxious, boastful and overall grating on your nerves.

Well, actually, “hate” would be too strong of a word, so probably “dislike greatly” it is.

“Ehh, Suguru? With you?” Gojo glanced at you, purposefully scrunching his face into a mocking sneer. “No way. Absolutely not. Incompatible. I won’t give him my blessings.”

“Who are you to grant blessings?” you hissed with a bulging vein of frustration. “And no, it's not what you think! I—” you wanted to kick yourself for stumbling over your words, “—I just respect him in a way an underclassman would!”

Gojo let out a strained laugh.

To him, you were this cute little junior who looked funny when mad. Riling you up was on his daily to-do list, and poking fun at your obvious crush on his best friend was supposed to double the fun, until it made him wonder despite himself... just what exactly did Suguru have that he apparently lacked, leading you to always follow him with your eyes, whereas you spared him with nothing but glares and sharp retorts?

You didn’t exactly hide your feelings. Whenever Geto was nearby or greeted you in the mornings, you'd blush like a tomato. It was silly, because Gojo was sure his best friend’s type wasn’t a girl as skittish as you—surely, it must be someone as vivacious as Inoue Waka.

He knew you were doomed to fail.

"I suggest you go pick up some slack," he teased. "Better if you don't become a dead weight while assisting him in missions, no?"

He knows. Really.

"...do you know that there are only three things I can't stand here?"

"And those are?"

But...

"Your stupid glasses, your Limitless—and you."

He was still irked, regardless.

"Well, poor you, then," he shrugged, shit-eating grin on his face. This time he pushed his luck. "Do you know that you're nowhere nearing Suguru's type?"

Scratch that. You hate him. You turned to him with a reddened face, and it wasn't because you were blushing.

"I'm going by myself!" you declared, seething. "I couldn't care less about what you're about to do—I'm finishing this and going home!"

With that, you you marched towards the haunted house, paying no heed to his taunts behind you.

You felt a wave of embarrassment washing over. Gojo always messed with you and normally you would chalk it up as one of his shits—but this time, you didn't appreciate how he touched on that sore spot of your not-so-hidden infatuation with Geto. So what if you weren't his ideal type? He didn't have to be mean!

But soon you regretted leaving his side, as a monstrous cursed spirit quickly chased you out.

Gojo was still outside, bidding his time. He merely huffed when he heard you screaming in fear.

He was ready with a jab. "Well, well... Look who's running back into my arms—"

But his smirk quickly fell when he saw the cursed entity was apparently way beyond your level. You ran out—no, by some idiotic impulse of survival, you actually leapt out of the two-story window and almost fell flat on your face and broke your bones, but before then, he sprung to action, catching you, wrapping one arm on your waist.

You were grateful you that you weren't doomed—until you felt yourself dangling mid air in his hold... like a cat.

"Gojo!" you wailed. "I'm going to fa—!"

Oh, but Gojo was convinced that this was his moment to shine. He directed a smirk your way as the bright blue mass in his hand totally caught your attention. With one swift flick of his hand, he muttered the mantra for Blue, and exorcised the cursed spirit in one go.

He marveled at his own show of power—and hoping that somehow, you would too. Then, he placed his hand under your knees, repositioning you in a princess-carry, and the way your gentle curves nestled snugly in his arms sparked some intriguing thoughts in him.

Your wide, crystal-clear eyes gazed at him with such wonder. Red tinted your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved into a winning smile.

It was at that exact moment when he realized it: he wants you. This funny girl who often made his day, he wanted you to look at his way too.

...but goddamnit, you like Suguru.

"Well, not that scary now with me around, isn’t it?" he boldly announced, and your amazed expression immediately turned into a cute frown.

"Thanks," you blurted, still with rosy cheeks and looked frazzled, but then you realized the state you were in his arms. "But—put me down!"

"Ehhh, I will if your feet can reach the ground!"

Who cares if you like Suguru? As he burst into snickers and you screamed at his face, Gojo Satoru decided then and there—in that spring of 2006—that he would make it his mission to win you over. To make you his.

And years later, not only he achieved that but also so much more—a ring on your finger serving as the testament to his success.

Epilogue

"Yaga-sensei," Geto sighed wearily. "Can I be paired with Shoko, please?"

"Geto-san, wait, please—" you frantically tried to explain, glaring at Gojo in the process. "I'll do my best so—"

"You're such a bother, even Suguru doesn't want to go on missions with you," the white-haired clown remarked with an evil grin. "Right, Suguru?"

"No, Satoru—"

"Well, but if it's me, I'll gladly mentor and teach you though~"

"I don't want you! You're so insufferably annoying!"

"Yaga-sensei, can I please get paired with someone else—"

[hazbinhotei]

running away.

happy ending. — bad ending.

warnings: disgusting yearning and pining, alastor is bad at feelings

word count: 4043 (yeesh)

summary: Alastor finds himself torn apart by his feelings for you—caught between the instinct to flee, as he always has, and the unbearable need to stay by your side.

alastor x gn!reader. ooooh boy. this one's gonna be a doozy, folks. if you like yearning, this one's for you. can you tell i was heavily inspired by mr. darcy's confession? (i honestly can’t tell if he's ooc in this because canon alastor has never shown a single ounce of yearning for someone in his 8-episode-plus-a-pilot lifespan—so feel free to let me know if he feels too ooc!) note: there will be a part two to this story, but it will be split up into two different endings—a happy ending, and a terrible, angst-ridden ending. buckle up motherfuckers.

Alastor was a creature of habit. Order. A strict, unshakable routine built over decades of meticulous control.

Mornings began with coffee (black, no sugar, piping hot). Then, a careful selection of the day’s amusements—perhaps meddling in Husk’s card games, spinning nonsensical riddles at Niffty, or casually terrorizing poor unsuspecting souls. If not that, then there was always his beloved radio broadcast, an extension of his own theatricality, his voice slipping into the airwaves with a whispered promise of chaos. He had his weekly tea with Rosie in Cannibal Town, the two of them exchanging pleasantries steeped in the unspoken understanding of what lay beneath their grins. And, of course, there was assisting Charlie with whatever new, doomed-to-fail project she had set her heart upon—whether it was trying to rehabilitate a particularly stubborn sinner or attempting to redecorate the lobby with decor so disgustingly cheery it made his teeth itch.

It was simple. It was structured. It was comfortable.

Then you arrived.

And now, nothing was comfortable anymore.

You weren’t supposed to fit in so easily. You weren’t supposed to slip into the rhythm of the hotel as if you had always belonged, as if Hell itself had been waiting for you. You weren’t supposed to make conversation feel like a game he wanted to play, something effortless, something that left him wanting to hear your voice just once more before you left the room. You weren’t supposed to light up a space in a way that made his carefully cultivated shadows feel... lesser. Weaker.

And under no circumstances should he have felt—what was the word?—relief whenever you entered. As if an invisible weight had been pressing on his chest all day and only when he caught sight of you did it lift, just slightly. That wasn't how it worked. Not for him. Not for what he was. He wasn’t meant to miss something he had never needed before. He wasn’t meant to ache for something so simple, so insignificant as your presence.

It started small. A twitch in his fingers when you sat beside him on the couch. An uncharacteristic pause before he replied to one of your jokes. A nagging awareness of how close you stood whenever you did your unspoken daily routine of passing him his morning coffee, your fingertips brushing his just barely—

Pathetic.

He was the Radio Demon. The very concept of intimacy was laughable—an absurd little mortal relic that he had shed alongside his humanity long ago. What purpose did it serve, this feeble notion of longing? Affection had never been anything more than a tool, a game, a means to an end. He had wielded it, manipulated it, destroyed those who mistook it for kindness.

Love, devotion, tenderness—these were things for weaker creatures, for those still clinging to the fragile remnants of their mortal selves. He had observed it time and time again, how it turned even the strongest into fools, left them raw and bleeding, desperate to be seen, to be wanted. He had laughed at it, mocked it, torn it apart with his own hands just to watch how easily it crumbled. Love was a trick, a trap, a cruel joke played by the universe on those too naive to see the inevitable decay waiting at the end of it all.

And yet.

And yet, you gnawed at the edges of that certainty. You, with your warm eyes and your easy laughter, your maddening persistence. You, who had never once cowered before him, who spoke to him not as a monster, not as a demon, but simply as he was. The idea of being wanted by you made his skin crawl, not because it was unpleasant, but because it was tempting. Because the very thought of reaching back, of grasping onto something that could slip through his fingers, made an unspoken and ugly emotion coil deep in his chest.

No. He would not succumb to it. He refused to.

But somehow, he couldn’t stop thinking about how your hands looked when they smoothed down a tablecloth. How your voice dipped just slightly when you spoke to him in a quiet room. How the simple act of sitting beside you made his chest tighten like an ill-fitting suit. How your presence, once nothing more than a fleeting amusement, had begun to linger in the back of his mind long after you had left the room.

He was losing his grip.

So naturally, he pulled away.

At first, it was subtle. Declining your invitations with a breezy excuse. Avoiding the library at the hours he knew you’d be there. Letting the space between you on the couch grow wider, until one day, he simply stopped sitting there at all. It should have been easy. He had abandoned attachments before. He had crushed them when necessary.

Then why did this feel different? Why did the absence of your voice press against his ribs like something suffocating? Why did the distance feel less like control and more like punishment? Why did that confused expression you gave him every time he avoided you make his dead heart shatter, his hands itching to cup your face and ease that look away?

He convinced himself it was working. He convinced himself it had to work.

Then you handed him his morning coffee.

"Here you go, Al," you chirped, the usual warmth in your voice melodic to his ears. Your fingers brushed his as you passed him the mug—his favorite 'Oh Deer!' mug, the one you had bought for him during one of your outings into the city—and the sensation burned. Not from the heat of the coffee, but from the sheer wrongness of how much he had missed that fleeting contact.

He didn’t mean to snap.

But it was all too much—your touch, your voice, your mere existence gnawing at the brittle edges of his carefully constructed distance. The words came before he could stop them, sharp and cutting, a desperate attempt to shove you back to the safe distance he needed you to be.

"You made this wrong."

A moment passed, your long lashes fluttering as you blinked at him.

"...What?" Your smile faltered, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat from the look of it.

His grip on the mug tightened, nodding curtly as he tried his best to turn a sinister smile onto you. "It’s dreadful," he exhaled, tone venomous and cold. "I would have preferred if you hadn’t wasted my time with such an amateur attempt."

The hurt in your eyes was immediate. A flicker of pain, confusion knitting your brows together, the brightness in your gaze dimming as if he had reached in and plucked the light from them himself. Your fingers twitched around the empty space where the mug had just been, and Alastor could hear the soft, uneven hitch of your breath—small, nearly imperceptible, but to him, it was deafening.

His stomach twisted violently, the pool of regret forming instantly, like a faucet turned on full blast. The sensation was foreign, unwelcome. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, his throat suddenly too tight. He should have felt triumphant, victorious in successfully pushing you away. Instead, all he felt was cold.

Before he could fully comprehend the wreckage he had caused, you took a step back, your face twisting with shock, wounded in a way that made his chest snap.

"I—I’m sorry," you stammered, voice smaller than he had ever heard it. Then, without another word, you turned and walked away.

He stood there, coffee steaming in his grip, staring at the place you had been just moments ago. And that's when the guilt slammed into him at full force, sharp and immediate, like a knife twisted in his gut. It was unlike any other regret he had ever felt—this wasn’t the satisfaction of a well-executed deception, nor the detached amusement of watching someone fall apart at his hands. No, this was different. This was wrong.

His fingers flexed around the mug, but the warmth no longer registered. He could call you back. Apologize. Lie and say it had been a simple mistake, that he was having an off day, that his temper had flared for reasons beyond your control. He could spin some ridiculous excuse, charm you with a quip, erase the damage with a well-placed grin and an empty promise that it wouldn’t happen again. You might even believe him.

But that would mean admitting the truth to himself.

That he wanted to reach for you. That he missed you already. That the very act of hurting you made him feel more like a monster than anything else he had done in both life and Hell combined. He had destroyed people, laughed in the face of suffering, relished in the chaos of agony—and yet, somehow, this was what made his stomach churn. This tiny, insignificant moment of cruelty.

His free hand clenched at his side. Was this for the best? Hadn't he convinced himself it was? Keeping you at arm’s length was necessary, wasn’t it? If he let you in, if he let you matter, what then? He couldn't afford to want something. He couldn't afford to lose something. He would lose you—if not by his own doing, then by Hell’s inevitable cruelty. And yet, in this moment, staring at the empty space you had left behind, he barely knew what to believe anymore.

But Alastor continued on with what he knew best: forced nonchalance. He went about his day as if his entire world (you) wasn’t being ripped apart from his very hands, ignoring the way his heart ached to see your figure roaming the halls of the hotel. You hadn’t shown your face the entire day, but Alastor simply understood that you were merely hiding from him.

Really, the idea of you avoiding him should have been amusing—should have been nothing more than an inevitable reaction to his own actions. But the reality of it? It gnawed at him. He had practically bared his teeth at you like a rabid beast, and now, the sight of your absence in the halls felt more damning than any glare or scorned remark you could have thrown his way.

He let your absence continue, let the days tick by, convinced that if he just waited long enough, this ache in his chest would fade into nothingness. But then came the third day, and you were nowhere to be seen.

By then, the irritation had settled in deep, poisoning his mood like rot spreading beneath the surface. His patience had thinned, his normally sharp composure fraying at the edges. Conversations that he once found amusing became tiresome. Charlie had noticed his snappiness, her ever-sunny demeanor tinged with concern. Angel had made an offhand comment about how he seemed to be 'on the fritz' before skipping off without waiting for a response. Even Husk, Husk, had the audacity to offer him a drink—as if he were some pathetic wreck in need of drowning his sorrows.

That was when Alastor realized, with no small amount of irritation, that your absence had begun to sink its claws into him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. And that? That was unacceptable. Entirely unacceptable! He should have been able to brush it off, should have been able to let the days pass without so much as a second thought. And yet, here he was, pacing his room like some restless specter, unable to drown out the gnawing sense that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

And then, there was the matter of worry. A most bothersome emotion, one he was neither accustomed to nor particularly fond of. You had never been one to isolate yourself—always eager to assist, to busy your hands, to play your part in Charlie’s grandiose little dream. If redemption were possible, he had no doubt that you would be the prime candidate, the shining example of doing better.

And yet, for all your goodness, for all your damnable persistence, you had vanished. No sharp retorts, no stubborn frowns in the hallway, no stiff exchanges over breakfast. Just… nothing. And Alastor—who had spent decades mastering the art of detachment—ached in a way that made his very being itch at the absence of you.

And so, after enduring three whole days of this insufferable torment, he found himself standing outside your door at the ungodly hour of 2AM, posture far from its usual effortless grace. He could have just appeared inside—after all, formalities were often wasted on him—but some part of him hesitated, some fraying, fragile thing inside him insisting that this moment required the courtesy of a knock.

His knuckles rapped against the wood, and for once, he felt the weight of his own heartbeat in his ears, his stomach twisting in ways that defied every carefully crafted illusion of control he had spent years perfecting.

Would you open the door? Or would you leave him standing in the dark, drowning in the mess he had made?

He barely had time to dwell on it before the door cracked open, revealing you standing in the dim light of your room. His mind went utterly blank. There you were—eyes still heavy with sleep, hair slightly disheveled, but unmistakably you. And despite everything, despite the coolness in your expression, despite the guarded way you held yourself, you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Your brows furrowed. "Alastor?" Your voice was groggy, confused, and laced with a wary edge that made his gut twist. "What are you doing here?"

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because in that moment, every single wall, every flimsy excuse he had built to keep you at a distance collapsed. He was moving before he could think, hands grasping your shoulders before pulling you into him, burying his face into the crook of your neck to hide his expression. The moment he felt the warmth of you against him, something inside him broke. His arms tightened, his breath shuddering as he clung to you with the desperation of a man grasping onto the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

"You’ve got me completely strung up, darling," he murmured against your skin, voice shaking, uncharacteristically human. "My soul—it belongs to you. Somehow, in ways I never thought possible, you’ve infected every inch of me. My mind is shattered, torn apart at the very idea of needing someone so much, needing you so much. Ça fait mal même d'être séparé de toi."

You stood frozen, his words washing over you like a tide, overwhelming and impossible to process all at once. This was Alastor—the Radio Demon—collapsing against you, breath uneven, body taut with something that felt too much like fear. He spoke like a man unraveling, like a creature who had spent his entire existence untouched by love and was now drowning in it. You didn't even understand the words he said in French, but by the way his velveteen fingers held you like you were the most sacred thing in this realm, you only assumed it was an extension of his profession.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, the words were tumbling out faster, as though if he didn’t say them now, he never would. "I’m worried," he admitted, voice raw, cracking at the edges. "Worried that my entire existence before this was a sham. That every moment, every act of amusement, every indulgence, was just a hollow distraction to bide my time while I waited for your arrival in my life. Because all I want now—all I ever want—is to spend my eternity loving you. And that terrifies me."

"Je ne sais pas quoi en faire," he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what to do with you. But I—"

His fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves, shaking ever so slightly. "I know I don’t want to let go."

Your heart pounded, but the moment you wrapped your arms around him, he melted. His ears flattened against his head as he exhaled, sinking into you with a shudder, as if the weight of his own emotions had finally exhausted him. He was so tired. You could feel it in the way he leaned against you, in the tension slowly unwinding from his frame, in the way his breath steadied the longer you held him.

You glanced up at the ceiling of the hotel hallway, simply listening to his breathing mixing with yours as your thoughts ran wild. You'd be lying if you said your heart wasn’t hammering, your face burning from Alastor’s confession, from the rawness in his voice that still lingered in the air between you. You had always found Alastor appealing—too appealing. But you had banished those thoughts to the farthest, dustiest corners of your heart, convincing yourself that he was above feeling emotions such as yearning, that he was incapable of it.

So instead, you had settled. Settled for the little moments he allowed you. Settled for the quiet mornings where you made his coffee, a simple act that meant more to you than it ever should have. It had been your small way of being close to him, a selfish indulgence wrapped in routine. He never needed you to make it for him, but you had done it anyway, convincing yourself it was nothing more than habit. If you could not have his love, at least you could be something to him—another piece of his structured, predictable world.

Yet here you were, rubbing slow, soothing circles into his spine as he clung to you like you were his lifeline, as if letting you go would devastate him completely.

"This is new for you, isn’t it?" you murmured after a moment, a gentle tease laced with understanding. He only nodded, his grip on you tightening just slightly, as if the thought of you slipping away was unbearable.

You sighed, your fingers weaving through his bobbed hair as you whispered, "Then rest, Alastor. Come, let's get you some shut eye."

He barely had the energy to protest as you guided him inside your suite, leading him to your bed as though it was the most natural thing in the world. You pretended like this was natural, hoped this was natural for him as much as it was for you. You simply believed it was, because the moment he collapsed against you, his head resting against your chest as you cradled him, his body finally, finally relaxed.

He mumbled incoherently—his confession still spilling past his lips, but now softer, sleepier. Then, in a hushed murmur, barely audible against the quiet hum of the room, he rasped, "I didn’t mean it... about the coffee. It was perfect. It’s always perfect. I just... I just needed to push you away. And that was—" he swallowed, voice heavy with regret, "—an idiotic move, wasn't it?"

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the red and black strands of his hair, marveling at how uncharacteristically vulnerable he was in your arms. "Yes, it was."

A deep sigh left him, the weight of his own foolishness pressing down on him like an anchor. But as your fingers continued their soothing motion against his scalp, he let himself melt into your touch, his body going lax against yours.

You bit your lip, staring down at him as the last of his tension seeped away. Butterflies stirred in your stomach. His face had softened in sleep, the sharpness of his usual smile now gentle, almost innocent. You had never seen him sleep before. You wondered if he always looked this peaceful, or if it was just you that made him feel safe enough to rest.

A quiet hope bloomed inside you, cautious yet warm, as you tightened your hold on him. Maybe this would lead to something more. Maybe, just maybe, the Radio Demon had found something worth holding onto.

And as you watched him sleep, his face unguarded, peaceful in a way you had never seen before, you found yourself fighting the urge to sleep. But the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers unconsciously curled around the fabric of your pajamas as if anchoring himself to you—it was enough to lull you into a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing falling in sync with his. You didn’t fight it. The past few days had been exhausting—a whirlwind of emotions, too heavy to bear. As sleep crept in, everything else melted away. The last thing you registered was the feeling of Alastor shifting slightly, nuzzling ever so subtly into you, his body seeking yours even in slumber. His breath was warm against your collarbone, steady now, quiet—so different from the ever-broadcasting hum of his usual presence. For the first time, he felt real, tangible. Yours.

And just like that, the two of you stayed tangled together the entire night, wrapped in each other’s arms, as if the universe itself had been waiting for this moment all along.

The morning was peaceful.

You stirred awake with a soft hum, stretching slightly as the red glow of dawn spilled through the curtains. The warmth surrounding you was comforting, familiar—until you realized it was gone. Your brows furrowed as a cold chill seeped in where Alastor had been. The sheets beside you were rumpled but empty, the lingering warmth already fading. Your eyes snapped open.

He was gone.

Confusion rushed through you as you sat up, scanning the room as if expecting him to be lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing—no trace of him, no sign that he had ever been here at all.

Had you imagined it? Had the past night been nothing more than some fever dream conjured by your longing heart?

Then, your gaze landed on your bedside table.

A single note sat there, the paper slightly crumpled, like the writer had hesitated before leaving it behind. Dread pooled in your stomach as you reached for it, fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded the page. The cursive was rushed, messy—so unlike the usual pristine elegance of his writing. But you knew, without a doubt, who it belonged to.

Let’s not dwell on last night’s theatrics, dear. A lapse in judgment, nothing more. Best forgotten.

Your hands trembled as you read the words, once, twice, three times over, as if the ink might rearrange itself, as if the meaning might shift into something softer, something less cruel. But it never did. The more you stared, the more final it became, each elegant loop of his handwriting twisting the knife deeper into your chest.

Your throat constricted, a hollow ache settling in your stomach as the events of the night before played on repeat in your mind. His voice, raw and desperate. His hands gripping onto you like you were the only thing keeping him from vanishing. The way he had melted in your arms, safe, vulnerable—and now he was gone, pretending it had never happened.

A shaky breath escaped you, your fingers clutching the note so tightly the edges crumpled beneath your grip. You should have been angry. You should have cursed his name, torn the paper apart, stormed through the hotel to find him and demand an explanation. But all you could do was sit there, the weight of his absence crushing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

Had it really meant so little to him? Had it been nothing more than a moment of weakness, something he could cast aside come morning? And yet… the way he had clung to you, the way he had whispered his devotion into your skin—how could that have been a lie?

Your vision blurred as you pressed the note to your chest, curling forward as if the pressure could somehow hold you together. You wanted to believe this wasn’t the end. That this was fear, not indifference. That he was running not because last night was meaningless, but because it meant too much. But no matter how much you clung to that hope… the silence left in his wake felt an awful lot like goodbye.

But what if he never stopped running?

"Ça fait mal même d'être séparé de toi." = It hurts even to be separated from you. "Je ne sais pas quoi en faire" = I don't know what to do with it i am no where near even slightly fluent in french so please take these google translates with a grain of salt. stay tuned for part 2!

[goldfades]

meeting hayes. | JOE BURROW⁹ [008]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your first couple of days with your little bundle of joy.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | sweet, domestic!joe, fluffy as a little pancake, mentions of pregnancy, babies (yaya!), joe being the sweetest, best dad husband ever, idk what else

APRIL 2022

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖. It wasn’t just the faint, powdery scent of baby lotion lingering in the air or the tiny clothes folded in drawers that made it so. It was quieter but also fuller—like the walls themselves were adjusting to the weight of this new chapter, reshaping to cradle this fragile little life.

You stood in the kitchen, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows in golden beams, and shifted your son higher on your shoulder. His soft breaths puffed against your neck, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of your sweatshirt. He’d fallen asleep after his morning feeding, milk drunk and blissfully unaware of the exhaustion etched into every inch of your body.

Joe was sitting at the kitchen table, one hand cradling a mug of coffee and the other absentmindedly running through his hair, which still stuck up wildly from sleep. He was watching you with that soft, faraway look he’d developed since you came home from the hospital, the kind that made your heart clench because it was too much and not enough all at once.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and warm in the quiet kitchen, “he’s got my ears. Poor kid’s doomed.”

You laughed softly, the sound carried on a yawn. “I think he’s perfect.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’re biased.” Joe stood, stretching in that lazy, unbothered way of his that made even mundane movements look effortless. He walked over, leaning down to press a kiss to your son’s head and then to your temple, lingering for just a second. “You need to sit. You’ve been up all night with him. Let me take him for a bit.”

“No, it’s okay—”

“Y/N.” He gave you a look, one eyebrow raised in that teasing but firm way that always made you cave. “Go sit. Or better yet, nap.”

Reluctantly, you handed over the baby, watching as Joe adjusted him with a level of care that never failed to amaze you. For someone who spent his Sundays being tackled by grown men, he handled your son like he was made of glass, his big hands cradling the baby’s tiny body with infinite gentleness.

You sank into the couch in the living room, intending to just sit for a moment, but the pull of sleep was too strong. The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was Joe pacing slowly around the room, swaying slightly as he hummed a low, tuneless melody to the baby.

When you woke, the house was quiet except for the distant hum of the washing machine. You stretched, groaning slightly at the ache in your back, and wandered into the nursery, where you found Joe sitting in the rocking chair with the baby cradled against his chest. Both of them were asleep, the baby’s head tucked under Joe’s chin, his tiny hand fisted in Joe’s t-shirt.

For a moment, you just stood there, taking it all in. The sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. The crib sat untouched—Joe always claimed he’d put the baby down, but more often than not, you found them like this, tangled together in peaceful sleep.

You didn’t want to wake them, but the sight was too sweet to resist. Quietly, you crept into the room and placed a kiss on Joe’s forehead, whispering, “I love you.”

Later that day, you all ventured outside for the first time since coming home. Spring had arrived in full force, the backyard bursting with new blooms and the soft buzz of bees flitting lazily between flowers. Joe spread a blanket on the grass, and you sat with the baby nestled in your lap, his tiny hat slightly askew on his head.

Joe stretched out beside you, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched the baby with a soft smile. “Do you think he’ll like football?”

You snorted. “I think he’ll like whatever doesn’t involve being tackled.”

Joe laughed, reaching out to adjust the baby’s hat. “Fair enough. But if he doesn’t, Maisie’s going to have a meltdown. She’s already planning his college career.”

The thought made you laugh, but it was also comforting in a way. You couldn’t imagine a future where Maisie wasn’t involved, where she wasn’t there to be the chaotic aunt who spoiled your son rotten.

The afternoon passed in a haze of soft laughter and easy conversation, the kind of day that felt like a balm to your soul. Joe dozed off in the grass, his arm draped protectively over you and the baby, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

This was your season, a time of blooming and growing, of finding joy in the simple, quiet moments. It wasn’t always easy—there were still sleepless nights and overwhelming days—but as you sat there, your little family wrapped in the warmth of spring, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d found your place in the world.

The day melted into evening, the golden hues of sunset fading into the deep indigo of night. The baby had been bathed and fed, his tiny body swaddled snugly in a soft blanket. You and Joe found yourselves in the living room, the baby nestled in your arms while Joe sat beside you, his long legs stretched out on the coffee table.

The glow of the TV provided a muted light, though neither of you were really paying attention to the movie playing. It was just background noise, something to fill the silence while you both lingered in the haze of new parenthood.

“He’s out like a light,” Joe said softly, his voice low and warm as he leaned in to brush a kiss against the baby’s downy head.

You smiled, glancing down at your son’s peaceful face. His tiny lips were slightly parted, and his delicate lashes cast soft shadows against his cheeks. “He’s probably the only one sleeping in this house right now,” you teased, your voice equally quiet.

Joe chuckled. “Not my fault he inherited your sleep schedule.”

“You’re hilarious.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence. The weight of the baby in your arms and the steady presence of Joe beside you felt grounding, like the world had shrunk to just this room, just this moment.

“We still don’t have a name,” Joe said after a while, breaking the quiet with a small sigh. He leaned back against the couch, his head resting on the cushion as he stared up at the ceiling. “We’ve got to pick something, babe. He’s going to start thinking his name is Little Man.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and tired. “I don’t know, Joe. Nothing feels right.”

“You don’t think Maisie’s suggestion of ‘Captain Joe Jr.’ has a nice ring to it?” he teased, grinning at you.

“Mm, tempting,” you joked, “but I think I’ll pass.”

The conversation fizzled out again, the two of you content to just sit in the quiet, letting the baby’s soft breaths fill the space.

Then, something small and unexpected happened.

A soft breeze stirred through the room, coming from the cracked window that let in the cool spring air. It carried with it the faint scent of freshly mown grass and the distant, earthy aroma of the fields beyond your backyard. The curtains shifted, and in the moonlight streaming through the window, the faintest shimmer of something caught your eye.

You turned your head, craning to see. There, just outside, the moonlight illuminated the grass in silvery hues, creating a soft, glowing haze over the backyard.

“It looks like a painting,” you murmured, your voice tinged with awe.

Joe leaned forward, his eyes following your gaze. “Yeah, it does,” he said, his voice just as soft. “Like one of those fields we used to drive past at night, back home in Athens.”

You blinked, smiling at the memory. The rolling hills, the mist that settled over them in the evenings, the way the moonlight would transform the fields into something almost magical.

“Haze,” you said absentmindedly, the word falling from your lips as if it had been sitting there all along.

Joe turned to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

“Haze,” you repeated, this time with more intention. “Like the mist, the way the light makes everything soft and dreamy.”

He tilted his head, considering it. “Haze… that’s kind of nice.”

A pause. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, you both looked down at the baby. He shifted slightly in his sleep, his little hand poking out of the blanket to rest on your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Hayes,” Joe said, testing it aloud. His voice was quiet, reverent, like he was speaking something sacred into existence. “With a Y. Hayes.”

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the softness in his expression. “Hayes,” you echoed, and the name felt like a breath of fresh air, like the final piece of a puzzle sliding into place.

Joe leaned in, brushing his knuckles gently over the baby’s cheek. “Hey, Little Man,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet affection. “Looks like you’ve got a name now.”

And just like that, under the soft glow of moonlight and the warmth of shared memories, your son became Hayes—a name born not from deliberation or debate, but from the quiet magic of a simple moment shared between the three of you.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[juneofdoom]

What up, whump fam?!

June of Doom 2024 Prompts!

We've brought back some old favorites/ popular prompts from last year with a healthy dash of new!

Please feel free to participate with original or fan works of any kind (writing, photos, gifs, mood boards, videos, songs, whatever creative medium your heart desires!). You can do one or all of the prompts on any given day, and if none are to your liking, check out the alternate prompts!

Two rules this year!

As with last year, tag your stuff with appropriate warnings, plzkthnx.

AI-created content is highly discouraged and frowned upon. I have no way of "checking", but I respect the time and effort people put into their crafts and encourage everyone to do the same. This isn't a contest for best written or prettiest art — it's a challenge, so challenge yourself.

[AO3 Collection] - "JUNEOFDOOM2024"

Text list below the cut for easier crossings-off. And don't forget to tag @juneofdoom so I can reblog your awesome here! Have fun!

“Help me.”                                        | Failed Escape | On the Run | Fetal Position |

“It didn’t have to be this way.”             | Scream | Double Cross | Made to Watch |

“Well, well, well…”                            | Hiding | Ambushed | Stalking |

“Does that hurt?”                               | Impalement | Fracture | Punishment |

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”                 | Bite | Swelling | Disfiguration |

“They don’t care about you.”               | Flinch | Broken Promise | Abandoned |

“What happened?”                            | Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

“This is your last chance.”                    | Drowning | Chair | Prisoner Trade |

“I made a mistake.”                            | Accident | Acceptance | Blame |

“Can you hear me?”                           | Fear | Smoke | Phone Call |

“We’re out of time.”                           | Bleeding Out | Collapse | Flatline |

“I can’t stand seeing you like this.”        | Dehydration | Grief | Coma |

“Wait!”                                             | Sacrifice | Adrenaline | Cornered |

“What were you thinking?”                  | Surrender | Human Shield | Outmatched |

“Get me out of here!”                         | Rescue | Chainsaw | Presumed Dead |

“At least it can’t get any worse.”           | Secret | Stranded | Setback |

“You don’t want to do that.”                | Struggle | Blackmail | Desperate Measures |

“I’m fine.”                                         | Self-defense | Allergies | Headache |

“This can’t be happening!”                  | Sobbing | Straitjacket | Dissociation |

“I can handle it.”                                | Scrape | Panic Attack | Neglect |

“Let’s play a game. “                           | Stairs | Pressure Points | Trap Door |

“What’s the bad news?”                      | Poison | Bedridden | Cauterization |

“You’re doing great.”                         | Trembling | Gaslighting | Rules |

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”                  | Blankets | Stitches | Bandages |

“I should have listened to you.”           | Guilt | Backseat | Failure |

“Don’t lie to me.”                               | Rage | Choke | Paranoia |

“Or what?”                                       | Defiance | Display | Last Resort |

“Say something.”                               | Numb | Cold Shoulder | Gag |

“I’m so cold.”                                    | Delirium | Fever | Exposure |

“Breathe, damn you!”                         | Shock | Asphyxiation | Emergency Room |

ALTERNATE PROMPTS

“Who did this to you?”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not okay.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You poor thing.”

Attending Your Own Funeral

Broken Glass

Mask

Whip

Obedience

[grimrester]

i am really so sorry to continue harping on about the watcher entertainment streaming service. but this kind of stuff (internet content as a business & marketing it as such) is truly my obsession, and i think i will implode if i don't talk about some of the takes i'm seeing.

i'd like to emphasize again i don't have strong feelings about watcher either way. i like ghost files, i watch mystery files sometimes, i watched worth it back in the buzzfeed days. i don't watch any of their shows religiously.

anyway, here's the main things i keep seeing crop up and my thoughts on each:

"watcher has 25 employees they have to pay, and employing people in this economy is good, so we should be banding together to pay them."

employing people is good if you currently have the capacity to pay them. i checked watcher's linkedin page, and many of their employees were hired within the last year or two. if they hired people they cannot pay with the business model they had before, something is seriously wrong with their internal bookkeeping/decision making. it means they either didn't know they couldn't pay these people long term, or they did know and were content with risking newly hired employees' livelihoods on a huge content pivot in the next year.

of note is that none of their employees' titles have anything to do with managing the finances of the company. they are the size of a small business but have no one aside from the figureheads of the company in charge of their finances.

this is the kind of company decision making that leads to downsizing and layoffs, which can be devastating. but you know what's worse than laying off a portion of your staff? laying off everyone because your business is going under.

"not everyone can afford the subscription, but those who can should pay it to support the watcher team."

no. $6/month for a couple hours of content (depending on what shows you actively watch and the natural fluctuation of their release schedule) is a fundamentally bad value. i can pay that much for a few movies on amazon. i can pay that much for dropout, if i want to support a smaller business instead.

and to be totally frank, even if people do sign up, i don't think they'd get enough to compete with the amount they get through patreon/sponsorships. and the fact that they didn't know how many of their subscribers would realistically sign up is a bad sign.

a pretty good conversion rate of free to paid subscribers of a service or content is 3% (usually accomplished through a free trial). given the very poor reception of the announcement, let's say about 1% of their 3 mil youtube subs pay for their service. that's 30k people paying for their new platform. that's $180k a month in their pocket.

(they currently only have 12k subs on patreon so we are being generous here.)

a sponsorship deal (based on my googling, i have less direct experience with this) is anywhere from $10-50 per 1000 views. they've gotten about 1 mil views on their last few videos. 3 mil subs is nothing to shake a stick at, but let's say they're on the lower end of the payscale at $25 per 1000 views. that's $25k a video, $100k a month if they release 1 video a week. their lowest patreon tier is 5 bucks, so even if all their subs are at that tier, that's another $60k, so $160k total. it's entirely likely they're bringing in much more than that when you factor in merch, adsence, etc.

did anyone on their team crunch numbers on how many people would need to sub to make the switch worth it? did anyone do market research on how many people they could convert to paid users? because if not, if they really didn't have a game plan for this, the subscription service was always doomed to fail.

"this was their only option to continue making the content they want to make, with the production value they want."

i watched their announcement video. a key point in that video is that they have done sponsored videos and that's what used to pay for their content, but they did not like the amount of creative control the sponsor had over the content.

look, i get that's no fun. we'd all love creatives to be able to make whatever they want. but when you are a small business with a team of employees relying on you, you have to think about making money, sometimes at the cost of creative liberties.

and they had so many other options to make money for the projects they want to make without jumping to a subscription platform.

they could have started actually promoting their patreon, and maybe done some restructuring of the tiers. why not a highly produced, special series just for patreon members? or a special high-budget episode of each series, while the main series is lower budget?

bite the bullet and continue taking sponsorship deals on some less-produced shows, while axing sponsorships from the ones the crew feels more passionate about.

schedule larger, blowout-production shows only when they can be afforded. this is what Notorious Amongus Guy streamer jerma does. he saves up for big productions like his baseball or dollhouse streams, so he can really get creative with them.

they had other options and they've tried very little, especially when you compare them to other content house business at similar scales. try guys and good mythical morning both put out significant content with significant staff, and have had to diversify their income streams with auxiliary products, shows with widely varied levels of production, etc. but it seems to be working for them. watcher has merch and that's about it, and seems to only want to increase the production quality of ALL their shows.

really, all this just boils down to a terrible business decision. it's hard to say if the watcher team is working with a consultant or anyone outside of their team, but they certainly don't have anyone internally who is experienced with running a business like this. to me, it seems very much like they got in a room together and did some extremely optimistic income ballparking with no research behind it.

and that might have been fine for three dudes running a channel alone, but if they're a business, they have to start making decisions like one.

[bvidzsoo]

Cosmically divine

☆ Synopsis: Olympus, the place where Gods play pretend and do as they wish. Dion, the place where mere mortals suffer and do as the Gods wish. One might wonder, is life ever fair? ★ 

☆ Author: bvidzsoo ★ 

☆ Pairing: Ateez members x female reader ★ 

☆ Rating: nsfw, 18+ ★ 

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, dark romance, violence, smut, gore

☆ Status: on-going ★ 

☆ 1. Choi San x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Underwater ◖Ares x Naiad Nymph!au◗ 

Summary: You knew that your love would never be fulfilled as the man you loved belonged to another woman. But can you help your poor Naiad heart when San, the God of war himself, seeks you out again and again when he is most vulnerable?

☆ 2. Kang Yeosang x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Marionette ◖Aphrodite!au◗ 

Summary: Doomed from the beginning, your mother, Hera, only saw a weapon in you. If you had once thought she loved you, she proved you wrong the second she cast you away once you failed to kill her enemy's son. Yeosang, Aphrodite's dearest and most prized offspring.

☆ 3. Kim Hongjoong x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Color of love ◖Hermes x Iris!au◗ 

Summary: If there was a God everyone feared, perhaps it was Zeus. After the continuous abuse he's put you through, you never thought you'd get to live your eternal life peacefully. That is, until the messenger God shows up and whisks you away before Zeus can see and stop him.

☆ 4. Jung Wooyoung x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Kingdom come ◖Oread Nymph x Dryad Nymph!au◗ 

Summary: Nymphs were nothing but deities that preserved nature and allowed the Gods to love them in return for their blessings. And when Zeus lurks around, you are labelled as his, never to be touched by anyone in the whole cosmos. But can you help yourself when the man he claims is Wooyoung himself? The gorgeous and warm-hearted Oread that coincidentally returns your forbidden feelings for him?

☆ 5. Song Mingi x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Dead man running ◖Hades!au◗ 

Summary: You were cursed, at least that's what your family thought about you. After a while, you started believing it too, the shadows that whispered to you convincing you that you were either crazy or just...different. And maybe you were, after all, the God of death himself, wouldn't have just called you his little shadow without a reason, right?

☆ 6. Choi Jongho x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Nightmare ◖Phobos!au◗ 

Summary: Coming from a family that thrived under pressure and mayhem, it was only a matter of time until your father allowed you to join him on the battlefield. But perhaps what set you apart from other warrior families was the fact that each one of you worshiped a God of war. You just happened to make the mistake of offering yourself up to one in exchange for your dear sibling's life.

☆ 7. Jeong Yunho x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　One Kiss ◖Atë!au◗ 

Summary: Cast out of Olympus because Zeus has had enough of the mayhem and craze you created amongst men, living and meddling with mortals changed nothing. You thrived off of stupid men falling to their knees and begging you for attention, promising things no mortal could offer. But when a pure, untouched, and unassuming boy might just fall into your trap, you can't help yourself and entice him just to the point of madness.

☆ 8. Park Seonghwa x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Moonlight Melody ◖Poseidon!au◗ 

Summary: You always thought the man of your dreams never existed, would never come and whisk you away from this terrible terrible life that you lived. And perhaps when he starts showing up in your dreams, with promises that he'd soon come and see you, you find yourself hoping for a love that only the stars would bear witness to.

☆ A/N: Hello, my lovelies, I am here with a new story, can you believe it?! Because I can't lol, this wasn't supposed to exist but I thought...why not? Updates won't be too frequent, probably, as I have got quite a few others things to write, but I can't wait for you all to see what I have planned here! ^^ These stories won't be too dark, but I felt it necessary to mention dark romance as we're still dealing with some ambiguous topics. Taglist, as usual, is open and you are all very welcomed to comment on this post if you'd like to be added! Thank you for showing love, support, and interest in my works on here, they mean the world to me! <3 divider ★ 

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[ariasakka]

A Taste of Forbidden Pleasures

Jinshi smut

Fingering, 18+, virgin, female reader, SIZE KINK, obsessive Jinshi, masochist Jinshi, oral, pussy eating, dick sucking, fingering,

(Slight talk of face slapping and tasing. I’m a freak sorry!)

3k words

You know…I didn’t watch the show thinking i’d have a crush on Jinshi but I seemed to have forgotten how much I love feminine men. Now he’s all I can think about.

You’re both virgins, you both try your best not to take it too far. At first it was convincing yourself you’d never date Jinshi then it was convincing yourself you’d never fall in love with him because it was doomed to fail. After all you were a servant girl and he had high title, nobody would take it seriously. Clearly you failed and fell head over heels in love with him. You were both set on being eachothers forever and only partner no matter what. No matter the cost. That being said you both tried to tell each other it was best not to take it further than kissing.

Tonight the both of you were making out in his chambers as you always did. Only this time his kisses were more needy. He was whimpering inbetween each kiss. You were trying to contain yourself and not to the same. You succeeded on that but you were growing annoyingly wet with every kiss. His knee was inching closer and closer to your groin as the minutes went by. Jinshi knew his knee was creeping closer and closer to your sweet spot. He knew exactly what he wanted and he wanted to make you needy and whiny underneath him just like he always was under you when you make out with him on his lap like usual. Only this time he was on top of you so he had leverage. When Jinshi finally got his knee touching the sweet spot he longed for he felt a wet spot on the tip of his knee. You let out the sweetest gasp he’d ever heard in his life. He couldn’t contain himself. He left your mouth and started kissing up your neck until his lips met your ears and he cooed “Let me fuck you y/n, please”

You grab onto his robe not expecting him to say such a lewd thing “Jinshi no, you’d be too rough!”

He holds your face in his palms and looks down into your eyes with such a beautiful look. One almost too hard to resist.

Jinshi “No I would not do you really think that about me?”

You pause for a moment before saying “It wouldn’t fit-“

You knew quite a bit about sex so helping others wasn’t an issue but the few times you’d touched yourself you could tell you would have a hard time taking anything larger than your own fingers. Shame there weren’t any toys here. You would’ve brought some back with you after you returned from visiting your family but you were always too scared of having them found out and confiscated and in all honesty you wanted to save that feeling, that stretch, for your love, for Jinshi.

On the other hand you had taken lots of time practicing your skills with your mouth on vegetables. You had no doubt you’d be able to please him in that regard. You’d always expected to do something to him first. He always got a bit carried away with kissing you were worried he would have no idea what he was doing and hurt your poor insides even though you know sweet Jinshi would never mean to.

Jinshi would like to be more experienced than he is. Luckily he has done quite an embarrassing amount of reading up on the topic. He wasn’t too interested in doing that sort of thing with someone else. That is not until he met you. He had re-read all of the old books he did before and a large sum of new ones just to learn all the ways he could please you one day. In his alone time he had done some practicing with his fingers on various fruits such as peaches and oranges. He had no doubt he was quite skilled with his fingers at this point. He had no doubt he wouldn’t be able to please you now. If only you’d let him. He can be quite needy for you but he had practiced on enough fruits even an egg yolk to know his way around a vagina. That being said he did break a lot of egg yolk for the first few times but not after that. He practiced hundreds of times after that just to be sure he wouldn’t hurt you. A bit obsessive. But who wouldn’t be when it comes to the love of their life?

After a long pause you say “What if I do you first?”

Jinshi shakes his head no. “Next time.” He wants this to be about you. He’d spent countless nights imagining your face, your sounds, as he pleasured you. Though imagining your pretty little mouth or tiny hands on his cock was nice too he was in the mood for something else. For your release.

Jinshi “Just my fingers please my love.”

You cross your arms “I said you’d be too rough.”

Jinshi “I’m gentle.”

You protest “No”

Jinshi smirks “Yes, especially with my fingers”

You “You can barely contain yourself around me. The first time I said I love you back while kissing you came in your robe. How am I supposed to think you’d be gentle now hm?”

Jinshi “I’ll show you just. Trust me.”

You “Yeah whatever, you can never keep your lips off of mine kissing me aggressively 24/7 like you’re in heat.”

Jinshi “Yes I can”

He leaned down and kisses you gently. He teases his tongue on your lips, similar to how he would like to one day to your lips down below.

You can’t tell if his tongue on your lips moving the way on your lips they are is intentional but it only makes you want him more. You involuntarily grind onto his knee, getting lost in his soft kisses. He releases after a moment. Your lips feel cold you want him back. You let out a pout and try to pull his face back but he takes hold of your hand and holds it down above your head on the bed with his own.

You “See, can’t keep your lips off of me.”

Jinshi “That was gentle no?”

You “I suppose…”

Jinshi “How about this, slap me across the face if I’m too rough or you want me to stop?”

You always knew he was a masochist but you weren’t expecting that.

You “What?!”

Jinshi smirks “Do it.”

You “If you’re too rough that won’t stop you you’re a man and 3x my size.”

He hands you a taser

You “Um what is this..Jinshi?”

Jinshi “Taze me then slap me across the face then if I’m too rough.”

You “I…well…okay Jinshi.”

He can’t take it anymore. Fuck he really can’t take it anymore. He knows you’re a fucking masochist too. You didn’t notice you were getting completely soaked when he told you to slap and tase him but he sure noticed. He pressed his knee to your pussy harder. Pressing down on your clit. Your eyes met his filled with lust.

Jinshi “You’re soaking my knee please god let me fucking touch you even tase me for fun if you wish. I just need you. I fucking need you pleaseeee y/n.”

You bite your lip “Okay.”

Jinshi needs to hear you say it “Yes?”

You “Yes.”

He gently removes your clothes until there’s nothing left but your soaked panties. He took much longer than you wanted him to. His slow kisses all over your body, whispering dirty things into your ear, taking his time, it was driving you crazy. You were the one that was hesitant at first but now all you wanted was for him to hurry up and take you. When you were in nothing left but your panties he traced his fingers along the hem with one hand and rubbed your hips with the other, taking in your beauty.

You whine “Jinshi pleaseee.”

Your lust filled face and begging him to take you is driving him crazy but he must admit he’s proud of himself for making you this needy already before touching where he wants to most.

Jinshi “Can’t I admire how pretty my princess is? Alright Jinshi will hurry up, shh princess.”

He finally removes your panties. A string of wetness glistened as he removed them. Jinshi grazed his fingers along your pussy gently. Avoiding just the spot you wanted him to touch. You bucked your hips begging him to feel you where you needed most. Your face was so red anyone else would’ve thought he’d given you an aphrodisiac. He read up on foreplay. Oh, he read up on a LOT of foreplay. You were exactly where he wanted you. He spread your legs wide open and spit directly on your clit. He watched in awe at how you convulsed at the sensation.

You reached for the taser in warning. He chuckled. “Alright, alright.” Jinshi traced his thumb up and down your slit gathering your sweet juices. Then he traced two fingers over your throbbing clit. He was much gentler than you expected him to be. You never expected you to be the needy one in this situation. You started moaning so loud you were sure everyone would’ve heard you if Jinshis house wasn’t so far away.

Jinshi looked as you in awe “Fuck you sound so pretty for me, don’t hold back.”

You kept repeating a plea of “Jinshi please!” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to stop. He knew exactly what your body wanted from those begs. He began to place two fingers at your entrance. He gasped when he felt how tight you were. His books had always said to start with two fingers than add more but you were far too precious to him and he never wanted to hurt you. He removed the tips of both his fingers and settled with one. He lowered his middle finger gently into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. That went in much easier. He knew he would have to work on stretching his precious pretty girl out for a while before you could take his cock but he didn’t mind that one bit. Your hips started involuntarily moving on their own at the sensation of his finger. You were so sensitive under his touch. You knew you must have looked so stupid right now. How could the roles reverse into you being the needy one so fast? You desperately tried to hide your face in your hair or the sheets but all Jinshi did was brush the hair out of your face and force you to face him. “Don’t hide from me pretty. Aww so sweet, are you sensitive? I’ve got you. Let Jinshi do all the work okay princess.” He held your hips in place while he fingered you. You were much wetter than he expected but he didn’t mind. In fact he loved it. He wanted to taste it. Once he felt you opening up more he slowly slid his pointer finger inside you as-well. You tilted your head back. The stretch felt so good you were happy you didn’t have toys to use before, feeling Jinshi’s warm fingers work inside your walls was much, much better. Jinshi felt you pulsing around him hard. He was obsessed He leaned down and started kissing your neck. He was moaning inbetween kisses. At this point he returned to being the needy one. He sounded as if he was almost enjoying this more than you. He can’t help but grind into your legs as he’s knuckles deep inside your perfect cunt. To your surprise despite how needy he’s gotten he’s still remaining just as gentle. His fingers filling your untouched hole mixed with Jinshi being a whimpering hard mess is sending you over the edge. You’d only came on your fingers a few times but this, this felt much more intense. Jinshi could feel you getting close. He lifts his head up from your neck to watch your face. He wanted to watch how beautiful his girl looked when she came all over his fingers. The feeling around his fingers as you came mixed with the look on your face was too much for Jinshi. He came all over his robe just as he was letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. You chuckled. You knew your Jinshi would return to his needy lusted out self. “Such a beautiful boy”

He releases himself from your cunt.

Jinshi “Told you I’d be gentle.”

You “I’ll believe you next time.”

Jinshi “Better.”

You came so much you’d nearly think you squirted but you didn’t. You had no idea you could cum that much. Jinshi didn’t mind at all he licked his fingers clean. The haze over his face from the taste of your juices was intoxicating. He nearly looks as if he’s drunk from just tasting you. “C-can I taste?”

You “You just did Jinshi.”

He kneels down resting his face just where he wants it “You know what I mean.”

You grab a fist full of his hair and push his face down to your cunt. You’re so sensitive after just having came but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of him. The feeling of his tongue inside your walls is addicting. He can’t release his mouth from your lips. He is in love with your taste, with your feel, your insides are so soft on his tongue. On his lips. He loves it. He grabs your hand making you push his face down harder. This is definitely the way Jinshi would love to go out. You can tell he’s hard all over again just from the way he’s grinding into the sheets. You’d never heard much of men getting hard from eating a girl out and especially not getting hard of just after they’ve came. You didn’t mind though. At this rate you’re all worked up again and desperate to taste Jinshi if he’ll let you. You’d seen him hard through his robe many times but never the real thing. You’ve wanted to many times but were too worried more would happen if you did. Now you don’t care. You pull him by the hair off of you and throw Jinshi on his back. You straddle his lap. Jinshi is confused he was enjoying his meal.

Jinshi “Satisfied?”

You “No.”

Jinshi pouts “Was my tongue not to your liking princess?”

You “That’s not quite what I mean.” You begin to take off his robe. You can fell his hardness pressing against your ass. Good that’s just what you wanted.

Jinshi gasps, his cheeks grow bright red. “What are you-“

You begin to kiss down his chest and go to down lower. You palm his cock in your hand. “Mmm prettier than I expected” you kiss the tip. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

Jinshi “Fuck princess-god. Ahh!”

You lick up the side of his cock while making eye contact “Want me to stop?”

He shakes his head no and grabs the back of your hair for something to hold onto. He tries to be soft he doesn’t want you to overdo yourself.

You “You don’t have to hold back with my mouth you know. I don’t have a gag reflex.”

You appreciated how composed Jinshi was with his fingers but honestly you really wanted to see him let go. Not have control. At least your throat could handle that.

Jinshi “What did you just say?”

You “I have no gag reflex.”

Jinshi sits up and places two fingers down your throat to test. He’d came many times imagining your little mouth wrapped around his throbbing cock but he didn’t want to do too much if you wouldn’t be able to handle it. When his fingers bottomed out in your throat and you did gag he hissed. He added a third finger because that was closer to the size of his cock. When you didn’t gag at that either he raised a brow and you smirked at him deviously. He began slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation. It felt nice to you. Jinshi removed his fingers. He was panting already just by the site of that.

You “Believe me?”

Jinshi “Fuck I believe you!”

You “I want you to thrust into my throat with your dick. I want you to let loose. Loose control in my throat.”

Jinshi “Are you sure my love?”

You “Yes please.”

Jinshi “What about when I cum?”

You “Just pull out and finish mostly on my chest. I don’t know if I’d like the taste just yet.”

Jinshi “I understand. Okay. Here, kneel on the stool that’s infront of the bed and I’ll stand infront of you.”

Your face lights up, you’re excited to see your lover let go. Your excitement has him leaking with precum. Once you’ve gotten on your knees atop of the stool he stands infront of you. His cock at perfect level with your mouth. You stick out your tongue eagerly. You grab hold of his hips inviting him inside. He grabs the back of your hair to push himself deep inside your mouth. Your mouth looks so small compared to his dick he’s not sure how it’s fitting or even how you’re not choking. He keeps looking down to make sure you’re alright. You roll your eyes and force your face all the way down his length until your nose is pushed up against his pelvis. You start bobbing your head to assure him you’re fine. You push his hand on the back of your head harder to motion him to let go. Once he’s assured you’ll be fine he starts thrusting balls deep down your throat. His pace is fast, though he still holds back slightly not wanting to hurt his princess. Jinshi is a moaning mess. You look so fucking pretty like this. To pretty. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last like this. He wants to do this to you all night. His hands are definitely never going to feel as good after this. While he’s busy bobbing your head up and down with one hand. You take hold of his free hand and place it on your breast. That sends Jinshi over the edge. He pulls out of your throat as quickly as he can and releases all down your chest. He rubs some on the bud of your breast. You whine at the sensation. Some of his cum spilled on your chin. You lick some to taste.

You “Maybe next time you can cum inside.”

Jinshi pants “You’re going to kill me if you keep saying such things!”

You “You were such a good boy.”

Jinshi draws the both of you a bath. He carefully washes your body then you do his. After the both of you cuddle in his bed chambers. The both of you should get dressed but neither of you care if someone catches you anymore.

You “You know Jinshi you’re oddly skilled.”

He smiles to himself proudly. He’ll tell you about his practice another time.

Non kinky version ↓↓↓

[curapicas]

Why I think Lu Guang's answer to the riddle was the detective:

It's given at the same time Cheng Xiaoshi gives his own for misdirection. The one who gave the same answer as CXS was his own dad, a guy that for all his failings, was loved enough by SYY to try and change his death node - WQ is also attached to him, therefore we expect/hope CWM has an ethical side to himself; meanwhile the one who gave the same answer as LG was Vein.

It happens right before LG bets on Vein being murdered on that room, an antithesis to CXS changing the past for what he hopes is for the best to those involved (note: I'm fine with the guy trying to fix a death node by dumping a death node on his bestie's murderer, just pointing out them as a partnership don't EVER do things intending to eliminate the bad guys, ya feel me?)

CXS' answer presumes innocence (more on how to me, this reflects on link click's overall messages under the cut), but LG is analytical; he'd take in consideration that the detective is poor and the animals had a coin;

the riddle states that "you" are the detective. LG spends yingdu burdened by knowledge and trying to solve a disappearance along with CXS; we also know LG feels guilt over what he's doing and CXS' death (which is why he was harsh on Vivian not deserving CXS' sympathy when they were on the phone). Therefore, he not only has been functioning as a detective throughout yingdu and link click as a whole, but also presumes guilt for himself (meanwhile Vein presumes that ppl have hidden intentions like he usually does, I guess)

In other words; LG answers he's the detective bc he not only takes the seemingly innocuous clues into consideration, but by the end of yingdu he feels guilty and burdened by what he has done and feels he has to do. A far cry from the 1st episode, where he identified with the noble heroine who goes into a doomed quest; now he thinks of himself as the sharp detective who would burn a forest down to get what he wants.

Now, personally I vibe with LG and CXS pointing to two different directions: LG makes the audience aware that amidst all of the tragedies in link click, someone is benefiting; there's a person or a group who doesn't care others are being stepped on, which has been the case of the antagonists so far, be it LX or the typical bullies; and LG puts himself among them, since he doesn't justify to himself he has noble intentions so it's okay that they won't help with Emma's investigation, for example.

CXS is the other side of link click: actually, bad things will happen without anyone meaning to, as is the earthquake, the noodle lesbians' divergence, the time nodes getting messed up by well-meaning intentions.

Note: The big takeaway here is that LG thinks it's the detective bc he thinks he's the detective and LG knows himself as guilty. Not that his answer was (or wasn't) the most logical/obvious and CXS' was too naive, I'm actually trying to prove that even if he answers purely using logic, LG is being emotional about it too! A correct answer is NOT the point of the riddle

btw, the positive spin of LG going from the tragic heroine to the cruel detective is that he no longer is passive about fate, and sees it as something that can be seized, which gives him hope

[kiwibongos]

woohoo finally sharing some art for my kzhn yakuza au!!! the normal one not the sega one. excuse the ref its a little old but might as well share it

yap dump time (kept it as short as i could sorry lol)

it starts as hajime & natsumi becoming close friends early on, and because of her, him and fuyuhiko also become besties. though fuyuhiko was never the type to get close with anyone (and still hadnt befriended anyone at hpa yet), hajime was interested in him and got him to let down his walls. they quickly click and grow close, and the three form some kind of a trio as well. they all get along, have fun together, do normal teen shit, but keep in mind hajime actually has no idea that the kuzuryu siblings are part of the yakuza. to him theyre just regular people, the kuzuryus are just businesspeople on the outside as a disguise pretty much. though one thing hajime does know is that those kids are definitely subjected to abuse at home, but hes not sure what to do about it

id say after like, a year of bonding, one day, natsumi tragically dies. (doomed in every universe sorry girl). not by sato tho! but due to an assassination involving clan shit, though it was just described as a murder. ever since then, fuyuhiko shut down and cut everyone else out his life pretty much. despite how close him and hajime were, they never talked again after that, though he tried to reach out, he wasnt getting anything. not long after, fuyuhiko got a new number, dropped out of HPA, and became buried in yakuza work.

hajime was heartbroken losing two of his best friends, and because of it, he fell into a deep depression the following year. failed his studies before inevitably dropping out of HPA, all while also falling into random aggressive encounters with goons on the streets. (to hajimes confusion, it turned out they were just kuzuryu-rookie assholes investigating hajime, thinking he had something to do with everything going on, without making that obvious to him. fuyuhiko didnt know about all that.) haj got a job too, but it wasnt really enough + he was late most days/had a poor work performance sometimes, just because of alot of shit going on. failing in life and getting into fights, these things are enough for hajimes parents to kick him out rather than offer him help. now he was out on his own, with barely enough money to comfortably pay for food and a room to stay. his friends– chiaki the most– did offer for him to stay at their place, but he declined because he felt like a major inconvenience, that “this is his problem, he has to fix it.”

several months pass as he manages throughout life. one night while hajime was in the city, making his way to a shop, he was threatened by gangsters. fearful at knifepoint, a group of three came to rescue hajime once 'stumbling' upon the scene, fighting and scaring them off. the group introduces themself as ren, jiro and sora, comforting hajime and conversing w/ him, and a small connection was formed. they push some information out of him seemingly out of concern, and once they find out how much hes struggling, they offer to help. from that point on, they frequently visit hajime to make sure hes okay, taking him out to cities to have fun, and a bond forms. hajime was pretty content with it, and felt cared for, because for the first time in a long while, he had made a new friend, and these people almost reminded him of fuyuhiko. tough and standoffish, but generous and caring. with how much he missed him and how vulnerable he was, he grew to like them

however as they grew closer and ran little errands together, slipping into his personal life, they slowly tried to coarse hajime getting into fights & gangs. they see a potential in him, a potential HPA didn't see, and they were willing to give him a chance, though hajime is Not into that at all, hes threatened as they expose themselves as high ranked members of the Raijin clan. theyre at large, and rivals of the kuzuryu clan, and are essentially just like "hey we did all this for you, you owe us a favor" to manipulate him, plus being like "you know those fuckers who keep harassing with you? theyre part of the kuzuryu clan. they SUCK. lets take them down." so they "invite" hajime to join the Raijin's. of course, he denies it in terror, but they aren't happy with this answer. after all they've done for him, it's unfair in their eyes, so they insist, about to abandon hajime which would end up in him failing on the streets again, risking losing a warm roof and well cooked food. scared, freezing up, and without having much of a life going for him or parents to care for him, plus literally being threatened and harassed, hajime is forced into complying, essentially kidnapped by the Raijin clan

after being recruited, it isnt long until he finds out how violent they all are, and just How Much He Fucked Up. off the bat he despises it, hates himself for making such poor choices, but hajime found himself at a loss. he has no idea how the yakuza operates, so still, he found no way out of the mess he was in now. during his time there, he tries to stay out of things as much as possible, but it’s hard to do much else once they forcefully cut all his communication with his other friends, to become one of them and slowly brainwash him into becoming a killing machine. he was completely hopeless, going through training he didn’t want to go through, but he grit his teeth through it and was thankfully cut some slack.

however, the more he had to try, the more it was working, and it’s not long until hajime is dragged through fights, missions and jobs. months into progress, the Raijin clan eventually planned an attack on a club the kuzuryu clan operates in the city, and once it was the right time to pounce, they dragged hajime into it, not giving him a choice but a chance. and that is finally when he comes across a familiar face. in a whole gunfight, hajime stammers and stumbles around in a panicked frenzy, but by the time they have to leave, he’s cornered and caught by the boss. and the moment they meet eyes they’re just like. Oh Fuck

there, after one painful year and several months of pain and worry, hajime finally meets fuyuhiko again, yet no words are spoken, they just kinda Stare. frozen in shock. hajime’s eyes are filled with confusion, concern, but desperation, while in fuyuhiko it's similar, but it evolves into anger. bitterness, betrayal. though before they can say a singular word, ren finds hajime again, shoots at fuyuhiko to shoo him off, and saves him once more, dragging him into the car before they retreat to their base

afterwards, they give him some more information, confirming that it was fuyuhiko kuzuryu, notorious heir of their rivalry clan. but hajime didn’t tell a single soul that he recognized the boss. if he had told them about their past friendship, they would squeeze information out of him, wring him dry and put him in even more danger, put fuyuhiko in danger, and something in him just didn’t want that. he needed to think through it, even though he’s barely processed this information, he still doesn’t know how to feel, even if he’s witnessed how horrible the Raijin’s can be as an example of yakuza clans, hajime saw fuyuhiko as a sign of hope. maybe he could help. he remembers how kind he was, so surely, he must still have it in him

as for fuyuhiko, he has no idea. he truly doesn’t want to believe it was hajime, that it was just some lookalike, but he's not an idiot, he Knows it was him, but he's frozen with disbelief. he couldn’t understand how someone as sweet and as normal as hajime could’ve ended up in a clan, in the Raijin clan, no less. but something in him stirs– a spark of blind hatred and betrayal.

ever since that night, that moment on the floor haunted their minds permanently, while fights between the two clans still commenced, fuyuhiko and hajime decided they were now on the hunt for the other, they needed an answer and they wanted it fast. after that, hajime tagged along most missions, where throughout the months they had gotten close but not enough. though the few times they ran into each other was during fights/jobs, when hajime needed the privacy to talk to him. he tried to come off as friendly, but the more they saw eachother and the more fuyuhiko saw him siding with the enemy, it only gave him the impression that hajime was out for his blood. hence why a rivalry formed on his behalf. seeing ren save him each time only angered him further, and it made fuyuhiko even More desperate for an answer. but hajime didn’t give up, despite the fights, the accusations, the hatred he’s faced from fuyuhiko, he has to prove himself as an ally, and he made that his mission ever since they saw eachother at that club

anyway finally one day, the clan sens hajime alone on a mission to spy on fuyuhiko so they could find out about what the clan is up to, to which hajime gladly went and tracked him down, doing what was told. but once he found him, he exposed himself calmly, and they took time to speak. and by “speaking to each other”, that means hajime startling fuyuhiko in an alley before being slammed against a wall, met with hostility, suspicion and anger LOL. fuyuhiko had never harmed him severely, but he wouldn't hesitate if hajime posed a major threat. but instead, hajime clings to him, cowering, pleading and begging for mercy because he’s his only choice. because he trusts– or he hopes, that there’s still a kind heart in fuyuhiko, despite what he’s learned now, he just can’t see him to be a vile person. the two never separated on bad terms, they were both just mourning, and now he sees why fuyuhiko went so quiet with his clan and all.

hajime’s desperate cries calms fuyuhiko down a little. he’s taken aback by his pleas, unsure if he should spare him, if he should take him back to base, but again in his mind, they were best friends back then. someone he truly never wanted to leave, but life just got in the way. fuyuhiko doesn’t like to get sentimental, nor should relationships mean anything to him, but he can’t help but sympathize. of course, he was still skeptical at first and assumed he was faking it just to raid their own clan if he is to take him, but hajime was dead serious, and proved it by offering to expose information of the clan, ratting himself out that he was on a mission to stalk him. because of his words, slowly but surely, he gained fuyuhiko’s trust

there was silence after that day, but knowing that they made a connection and agreed to work together, the more and more hajime tagged along on missions and played along with it as did fuyuhiko. the two eventually formed a secret friendship, coming up with a plan to bust hajime out of the Raijin clan, though still fighting and acting like enemies when they interacted in front of clans. (so they beat eachother up lovingly.) they established secret meetup spots, along with a secret backup phone fuyuhiko gave hajime with his number on it, along with providing tips and advice. he told hajime more about his life in order to cooperate as they work together to sabotage the clan more, & though he never wanted to get hajime involved in the kind of life he lives, he’s willing to sacrifice his privacy if it means getting hajime to safety

hajime finds himself sneaking out with fuyuhiko often, handing over information but also growing close to him at the same time, earning the kuzuryu clan's trust as well, but more importantly, becoming best friends with him a second time yippieee

not sure how i end this au tbh. dont know if fuyuhiko wants to leave the clan because of haj or if hajime wants in on the kuzuryu clan to stay with fuyuhiko and become his underling (because hey maybe it isnt so bad afterall...) ... I actually Do Not Know. they dont even know what they want for themselves lmao so who cares. they become close and eventually fall for eachother in their own dumb fucked up way. the end.

ok thanks for reading take a bonus to appreciate you for your time. did you know left 4 dead 2 is a wonderful place

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Yello! I was wondering if you could write a Romantic Yandere Spiderman? Specifically Tasm! Spiderman, please 🙏

I'm thinking of a plot where the reader (gender neutral) has a weird list of goals to accomplish in New York City since they don't live there and are only visiting Peter. Some of their goals include: counting 101 dalmatians and trying at least 20 different kinds of pizzas from each pizza place who claims they "have the BEST pizza!"

Any rivalries and other plot twists are welcome! You can write this either as a one shot, headcanons or a short— take your pick! I don't mind, thank you!

Anon

A/N: This man never fails to give me intense gender envy…I added and tweaked a few things to make him more yandere-ish… I hope you enjoy and that i've done this request some justice! Thanks for requesting 🥰

Warnings: soft yandere but Peter really doesn't want his baby to go. Mentions of kidnapping/holding hostage.

Requests: open

Masterlist

Okay when Peter found out that you were coming to visit him in New York, he could barely contain himself. His darling had been away from him for so long that texting and Skype calls weren't nearly enough to satiate his hunger for you.

Moments like when you left him to go live in a different state/country, made him despise being a poor college kid from Queens. If he had the means, he would've came with you and got a shared apartment where the two of you could live happily together.

To be fair, Peter did try his hardest to make you stay, but was far too kind to ever go to the more extreme measures to assure his success. He couldn't stop you from living your dreams. He couldn't go on if you had any ounce of hatred for him.

I like to think Peter had your visit already planned out in his mind. You were of course going to sight see and have fun, but he mainly wanted to stay snuggled up in his bed with you. He needed to make up for lost time spent not being with you.

So of course you can imagine his disappointment when you came with a crazy list to complete during your stay. His heart breaking as he looked through it only to find not a single space was dedicated to just being alone with him...

It'd be a lie to say he didn't enjoy stuffing his face with weird flavors of pizza and exploring parts of the city he usually doesn't hang around. He of course used his last pennies to pamper you and to treat you to the attractions you wanted to see. Anything to make you smile. It was nice for him to take a break from being spiderman and to just have fun anyways. When you left him, he started wearing the suit nearly every hour of the day when he wasn't chatting with you. It was the only thing that could keep his loneliness in check and kept him from going insane...

but as much as he laughed and enjoyed seeing you just so giddy about checking off each completed thing on the list, he couldn't help but to feel an impending doom looming overhead.

It didn't help hearing you go on and on about your new life and friends in your new area...He kept hearing you repeat one name in particular over, and over and over again...

Peter couldn't help but to feel insecure about it. Everyone else seemed much cooler and interesting to you. Peter was just...some guy. Sure he had the whole spidey thing but crime was petty and rather boring during this time. He had nothing to brag to you about other than the fact he received a free bagel after helping an old woman find her cat.

The closer you got to the end of the list, the closer you were to leaving him again...he couldn't take it....This wasn't enough time with you, Peter barely got to even touch you, take in your scent and love on you before you'd be gone.

The next couple of days, he's a bit distant. He's trapped in his own head. Peter can feel something sick festering inside of him. His thoughts become fully focused on you leaving...and what he could do to stop it.

He's begged you before. On his knees and teary-eyed begging you not to go. He looked the same as he did when he begged his parents for the same thing...but it didn't work. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he got a little more creative.

Harry would say, "demanding people get what they want". Playing dirty is okay when it means you'll be together. No. That's not him. That's not fair to you.

....but you leaving again, isn't fair to him either.

His hands are shaking with anxiety and his face is full of sorrow as he watches you sleep... the sinful thoughts from earlier are itching for him to put them in action....

You're such a sweetheart... Peter can't do this...

A gentle kiss is left on your forehead and he caresses your face before he turns around and goes to sleep...he needs to ignore those thoughts... But you're so perfect....he's going to miss this. It's nice being the only one in your life. He hates the anxiety that you're one day doing to send him a text that you've found someone new or that you need to focus on other things.

.... with his abilities,,,he could prevent that. He could whip up some locks and gadgets to keep you you secured in his shitty apartment. It wouldn't be hard for him subdue you either..

"Stop thinking about that, Pete. Go to sleep. It's wrong."

a beat passes and a long sigh escapes him.

You adjust in your sleep, instinctively curling in to be closer to him. You hazily send him a soft smile, and nuzzle your head into his chest before drifting back off to sleep. Oh, boy. That was enough to make him cave into his overwhelming desires. Peter couldn't wait another year to sleep next to you again.

You'd understand, right? You know that your boyfriend would never harm you. He's not weird. or creepy. or sick.

He just needs you here with him. He's tried to be good for you but this arrangement is far too much for a lover boy to handle.

Hopefully you aren't too mad when you wake up to realize you're tied up in webs. Your doting Peter only wants the best for this relationship. He can take the best care of you. Pete promises that you'll be safe.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"Okay, I know you are just here to annoy me and to antagonise me but I really have a problem and I need your help," the hero said through clenched teeth. Their grip on the villain's elbow was tight. Tight enough to make the villain actually believe that something was wrong for a second.

Admittedly, the hero was right about the first part - the villain only attended the gala to annoy the hero. No one would ever believe that the kind billionaire who donated to good causes regularly was fighting the city's favourite hero at night. No one knew, except for the hero and it was by now the villain's special liking to tease their poor nemesis and to let them know the person they were fighting against could get away with most things.

It was more like a hobby. The villain enjoyed watching the hero's little attempts at changing politics or fighting for justice that was clearly manipulated by money. Money which the villain had enough of.

"Oh, really?" the villain asked. "You really want to make a scene? In front of this lovely audience?"

The villain set their hand on the hero's waist and leaned in.

"Don't you think our relationship is more intimate than that?" they whispered into the hero's ear. Messing with the hero excited them more than it should have. The hero was so naive that it was almost funny how they saw the world.

What they believed in and how they presented themselves was admirable but it was a little fantasy world they tried to live in. The hero's faith in humanity was set in stone but the villain had seen how cruel this world could be. In their opinion, the only truly kind person on this planet was the hero themselves - a saint amongst sinners. Someone who tried so hard, yet they were doomed to fail.

Not because they weren't good enough but because everyone around them was too rotten.

"Please," the hero said. They looked a little pale. "You like business, don't you? So how about you help me and I help you in return? Excluding murder or torture or something like that, alright?"

The villain sighed.

"What? Did you rescue a kitten or something and don't know how to bring it home?"

"No, I...just please." The hero's wide eyes were almost unbearable to look at. The villain could feel the hero's hand on their elbow, holding onto them as if they were going to fall over any second.

Those goddamn puppy eyes.

The villain cursed internally. Yes, they had wanted the hero's attention but they hadn't anticipated to turn on their morality and help them.

"Ugh. Fine. What is it?"

"Come with me, please."

The hero dragged the villain through the room full of politicians and celebrities hastily. It must have looked a little strange, almost as if the hero was going to scold them. For a second, the villain really believed the hero was going to betray their trust and simply kick their ass outside.

Those thoughts were discarded quickly, though. After all, this was the hero with their stupid kindness.

It didn't take long for the villain to realise that they were heading for the restrooms.

The hero nearly threw their nemesis into one of the little bathrooms of the hotel and locked the door behind the both of them. Without wasting another second, the hero started to undress themselves in front of the villain which - obviously involuntary - made the villain's heart skip a few beats. They tried to look unbothered but they had never seen the hero like this.

The fancy clothes they'd been wearing all evening came off and for the first time, the villain was aware how vulnerable the hero was right now.

And how much they seemed to trust the villain.

Annoyed at those thoughts, the villain scoffed.

"Christ, next time just tell me if you want to make ou- oh my god?!" Immediately, the villain looked away and stared at the tiles of the bathroom instead of the horror cut into the hero's stomach. There was a giant fleshy wound, something so disgusting, the villain was going to throw up any second now.

"I thought my bandages would be enough but I bled right through them and I really need someone to-"

"And you're asking me to help you?!" The villain covered their mouth with their hand and tried desperately not to vomit. "You know I can't - urgh-"

They couldn't see blood. Their own blood was alright but someone else's? That was a completely different story. Everything inside the villain contracted and they felt a shiver run down their spine. It was such a repulsive feeling they nearly saw this as a punishment.

"Please, I...I was planning on convincing the mayor to invest in more bike roads to lower traffic accidents. I really need to-"

"Oh, fuck off. You are unbelievable. You're going to a gala? With that wound? To convince the mayor to build more roads for fucking bikers?"

"Please," the hero begged. The villain didn't look at them. It was ridiculous enough for the hero to be here, let alone beg them for their help.

The villain felt sick to their stomach. Personally, they didn't use any weapons that could cut through skin. It was way too disgusting for them to even consider it. Whoever had done this to the hero, was sick to their core. The villain swallowed.

And yet...They could hear the hero's quick breathing and their sniffles. Fuck, they were probably holding back tears.

"I really fucked up," the hero said. "You are right about a lot of things, you know? Sometimes, I just want to give up because I feel so dumb for believing I could change anything. But this is really important to me and I really need you to save me this time."

The villain closed their eyes.

I really need you to save me this time.

"Shit. Lay down." They managed to look into the hero's eyes but in their periphery, they saw the blood running down their body, running down their leg. Thank god they were next to a toilet.

The hero did as they'd been told and the villain concentrated on their eyes instead of anything else. That was easy, it always had been. It was more intimate than any situation they had been in together. The villain sat down next to them and kept looking into their enemy's eyes.

"Tell me what to do."

"Can you use a clean towel to stop the bleeding?"

"Yes, yeah. Yes." The villain found one and pressed it against the hero's stomach. Their nemesis made a horrible sound. "One thing, though."

"Yeah?"

"You go home after this," the villain said. "I do this and you go home."

"No, I-"

"That's the one thing I want in return. You'll go home after this. Fuck, I'll drive you or whatever." The villain rolled their eyes, pretending to be annoyed once again. With an injury this big, the hero wouldn't make it through the night without rest. It was true that the hero was very hard to kill. But that didn't make the situation any less critical.

"Did you know over 30% of people in this city die because of road accidents? And over 20% of those include bikes, I've been trying for months to-"

"Okay. I will get those stupid roads for you," the villain hissed. "Just...let me bring you home after."

They didn't expect the hero to take their hand and smile softly.