#things are looking up for me in the general sense. i'm in a good spot in my life right now but that doesn't stop the perpetual brainfog

[ressq]

man i sure wish i had the energy to do anything at all!

okay well it's not entirely true that i haven't been doing anything. i'm cooking. trust.

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[awearywritersworld]

"took you long enough"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you ask your best friend to meet the guy you've been seeing, things don't go quite as planned. w/c: 3.2k tags/warnings: angst to smut with a fluffy ending. 18+. friends to lovers. jealous gojo. curse words. drinking. gojo shoves ur love interest. he's just kind of an ass to him in general. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: i don't often write smut, but i kinda got carried away.. carpe diem, i say masterlist

gojo is tired of hearing you ramble on about the new guy you've been seeing. he barely even glances at your phone screen when you try to show him a picture you took together.

"you're way out of his league," he states dryly.

"hardly," you scoff. "men don't exactly line up for me like women do for you."

it'd be a lie to claim you didn't have a thing for gojo at one point, but you learned a long time ago that he isn't interested in you that way. it wasn't hard to tell, given his parade of hookups and the occasional two week relationship. you've gotten over it though... for the most part, anyway.

he rolls his eyes. "i assure you that's only because you're shy, princess."

"okay, so you should be rejoicing that your best friend finally landed herself a boyfriend—"

"boyfriend?"

"well.. it's not official yet, but i think he's going to ask me soon!"

your apparent enthusiasm at the prospect leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. of course, it's only because he wants the best for you and this guy certainly isn't it. "you've gone on like two dates."

"'toru, i've been seeing him for almost a month!" when he doesn't respond, you continue speaking. "so... that's why i was sort of hoping you'd come out with us tonight."

he looks at you increduously, "i am not third wheeling."

"you won't be!" you assure. "shoko and kento said they'd come. i just want you to meet him because you're really important to me and i actually think this could go somewhere—"

"alright, alright," he acquiesces, albeit begrudgingly. he's never been able to say no to you.

you squeal with excitement, throwing your arms around his neck in a brief hug. "i can't wait! we're all meeting at seven, i'll text you the address."

after a quick kiss to his cheek, you gather your things, all but running out the door. you weren't going to give him a chance to change his mind.

he stares after you wordlessly, running a hand through his hair while an unfamiliar tightness overcomes his chest.

when gojo enters the bar, he spots you right away despite the sizable crowd. as he makes his way toward your group, he can't help but notice how pretty you look in your little dress. in fact, you'd look absolutely perfect if it weren't for the fact you have another man's arm around your waist.

wait, what?

your laugh rings out across the room and judging by the smirk on shoko's face, he can tell she's said something you find unreasonably funny. once you spot him, your face lights up and you pull away from your almost boyfriend to give gojo a hug, something that brings him a sense of satisfaction.

"hey, sweetheart," he greets loud enough that the other man can hear. "who's this?"

"satoru, this is shinya!" you're beaming at him expectantly, so gojo has no choice but to extend his hand.

"hey, man." shinya shakes it firmly. "it's great to meet you. my girl's told me a lot about you."

gojo's eye twitches and he decides almost immediately that he finds shinya utterly insufferable. his voice is grating and he's too short and didn't you say you prefer guys with lighter hair—

"nice to meet you, too," gojo responds cooly. "i'm always happy to meet one of her friends."

nanami and shoko share a knowing look, more than prepared to break out their hypothetical popcorn. and boy, is this as good an occasion as any.

the strongest sorcerer isn't one to indulge in liquor, but how can he refrain when he has to be in the same room as shinya? each time he touches you, looks in your direction, calls you some sickening pet name— whenever he breathes in your general vicinity, really— gojo brings his drink up to his lips.

everyone else seems to be getting along, but unfortunately, he grows increasingly snarky with each glass he empties.

shinya asks what you'd like when he goes up for another round and it's 'oh, you don't know her favorite drink? well, i guess you're not as close as we are.'

shinya pulls your chair out for you and it's 'wow, you really got yourself a gentleman, princess.'

shinya mentions that he's fairly well versed in martial arts and it's 'really? maybe we should go out back and spar. i think it'd be fun.'

nanami steps in then, not entirely convinced gojo would hesitate before laying him out. "you can put the measuring tape away, idiot."

shinya is being an impressively good sport, but your anxiety has you emptying glasses in a hasty manner, too. you have no idea what's going on with gojo. you understand that he can be abrasive at times and that communication definitely isn't his strong suit, but his behavior is just absurd. you force an awkward laugh at nanami's comment.

"not that i'm not having, um, a great time and all!" you hiccup before continuing. "but i'd really like to dance. c'mon shinya!"

nanami and shoko wind up joining you both, which comes as a surprise. neither of them are exactly the partying type (not that you are either), but you're happy to see them having fun. honestly, you can't remember the last time either of them let loose.

you wonder if they also just wanted to escape gojo's snide remarks. now that they aren't ringing in your ear every other minute, your nerves have certainly calmed down a bit. well, until—

"so you do know that he's totally in love with you, right?"

"who?" you question, looking around as if it'd be obvious.

and it is, just not to you.

shinya chuckles. "gojo."

"what?" you bellow, completely dumfounded. "no way! i mean he's not— and i'm not— we're just friends."

"yeah?" he still sounds amused, nodding in gojo's direction. "is that why he looks like that?"

turning toward your table, even you have to admit he looks completely miserable. unbeknownst to you, he's spent the last half hour sending away every woman that approaches him asking to dance. he just isn't in the mood right now. at least, that's what he tells himself.

"er.. he just doesn't get out that much," you try your best to brush it off.

"whatever you say, baby."

you're relieved he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the idea, even if you find it completely implausible. it's true you spend a lot of time together and that you know one another like the back of your hands, but you'd given up any hope of it being more than friendship a long time ago. you'd moved on.

but if that's the case, why did shinya calling you baby suddenly feel so wrong? you convince yourself it must just be the alcohol.

when the four of you finally stumble back to the table, you realize you've missed last call. though it's probably for the best, as the five of you are certainly in for a nasty hangover the following morning.

it's near closing time, but the crowd has hardly thinned out and the music is still beating loudly in your ears. you're going back to jujutsu tech with your friends rather than home with shinya, so you loudly exchange goodbyes over the music as he gets ready to leave.

"i had a really great time tonight," he tells you. "maybe we could go for dinner tomorrow? there's something i've been wanting to ask you."

"okay!" you agree eagerly, eyes shining. "i'll call you in the morning."

gojo feels his stomach drop, his jaw clenching bitterly. he tries to tell himself to relax because this is what you want, but he just can't seem to get his thoughts straight.

shinya leans down, his lips meeting yours sweetly, and it causes white hot anger to flood gojo's body. it all happens so fast, shinya's ripped away from you with astounding force and he staggers backward. you've been struggling to hear over the noise all night, though you make out each word that follows with striking clarity.

"get the fuck away from her!"

gojo stalks off before anyone has time to process what just happened. he's already half way across the room when you come to your senses.

"'toru!" you call out, taking a step in his direction when he doesn't respond. "satoru!"

you take another step but you're stopped when something pulls you back. you look down to find shinya's hand wrapped around your wrist before your gaze turns up to meet his eye. "look, i really like you, but if you go after him, don't bother calling tomorrow."

the ultimatum is simple, but so is your decision. "i'm sorry."

you run off before he can say anything else, shoving your way through the bar patrons, and follow gojo out the door into the cold air of night.

"satoru!" you shout once more, thankful that his pace is slow enough for you to catch up. he turns to face you when you tug on his sleeve.

you nearly shy away from him, his expression something fierce, but the liquor in your system gives you courage. "what the hell was that? you embarrassed me—"

"i don't fucking care," he spits.

he's never taken such a tone with you, so you throw your hands in the air and exhale impatiently. "what do you mean? you should care! you're my friend, aren't you?"

"that's exactly what i mean. you're supposed to be mine," he growls.

you're not sure how it happens, but the next thing you know, his lips are crashing into yours, your teeth knocking together with the force. his hands paw at your hips, pulling your body against his greedily.

"i can't believe," he mumbles against your lips, "you wasted your time," his hands find your hair, tugging your head back and revealing your neck, "with that fucking loser."

once he's finished speaking, his lips trail across your jaw, landing just below your ear. your eyes flutter open and you're suddenly very aware that you're standing in the middle of a public sidewalk.

"'toru," your voice is breathy, even though you're trying desperately to keep it together. "there are people—"

he pulls away heatedly, his eyes narrowed. "you didn't care when he kissed you in front of everyone."

"yeah, but that was just a peck," you reason, though if he keeps this up, you're worried you might lose your resolve.

"tch, i guess you're right." the familiar sensation of warping through space and time sweeps through your body for a few seconds before your feet meet solid ground again. you don't need to look around to know you're in his bedroom. "we're going to do a lot more than that tonight."

your stomach flips at his words, heat rushing to your core. his lips find your neck once more, leaving sloppy kisses along your skin. "that's what you want right? for me to show you who you belong to?"

you nod weakly, feeling as if you're in a daze.

"ah, ah. use your words, sweetheart."

"yes— ah—" he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone before nipping the delicate skin there. "yes, 'toru."

"then get on the bed," he orders lowly.

and who are you to disobey? you can't honestly say you haven't been dreaming of this for years. his blanket feels cool to the touch, making you realize suddenly how much your skin is already burning with desire.

he kneels beside the bed, wasting no time before pushing up your dress and pulling your legs apart. you see his shoulders fall as he exhales harshly at the sight. his eyes flutter shut when he presses a kiss to your core over the tiny cotton panties you decided to wear.

he's rudely reminded of the possibility that you may have put them on with another man in mind.

"did you let him fuck you?" he interrogates. his eyes don't leave yours as he begins placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh.

"n-no!" it's almost embarrassing how vehemently you deny it, but the man between your legs takes great pleasure in your response.

"mm, knew you were a good girl."

he hooks a finger beneath your panties, pulling them down excruciatingly slow. you buck your hips up once he throws them off to the side.

"feeling eager, princess?" he taunts, his breath fanning across your center.

you nod, your legs shaking with anticipation, before remembering what he said about using your words. "please, 'toru. need you so bad."

he can't possibly deny you, not when you beg for him so sweetly. he presses a soft kiss to your swollen bud before flattening his tongue against it, drawing circles there. he groans when your slickness coat his chin.

you whine when his eyes shift up to meet yours and push yourself against him even further. he chuckles against your skin, but truth be told, he's just as eager as you are. he slips one long finger inside of you, relishing in how easily you take it.

"oh—" you cry out as he adds another finger, his tongue pressing against you just a little harder.

his other hand is gripping your thigh roughly, the flesh spilling between his fingers. one of your arms is supporting your weight, but the other reaches out, your fingers threading through his hair.

you're panting now, tugging on his white locks in pleasure. he moans in response and the way your walls are clenching around him lets him know you're close. "c'mon baby, cum for me."

that's all it takes for you to unravel, his name falling from your lips over and over. he doesn't stop until he's sure you've come down from your high.

"you tasted so perfect," he tells you, unbuckling his pants in a hurry and shoving them down his legs.

his shirt and boxers follow quickly thereafter, so you pull your dress over your head. you can't tear your eyes away from his cock, it's long and thick and pretty.

he pushes you back against the bed and crawls on top of you, but then he just stares down at your face. just as you begin to wonder if something is wrong—

"you're so fucking beautiful. have i ever told you that?"

your mind reels for an answer, but you don't have to worry about it for long, as his lips capture yours. you can taste yourself on his tongue

"tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips as he moves his cock along your slit, coating himself in your wetness.

"need you, 'toru. p-please, i need you to fuck me."

he smiles against your lips as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside slowly. he leans back to find that your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted in bliss. he's determine to seer the image into his mind forever.

splitting you open is absolute ecstasy, the noises he's making are proof enough of that. "fuck, princess. fuck."

he nearly whimpers when he bottoms out. "god, you feel so perfect. i could stay in this pussy forever."

your legs wrap around his waist once he begins to pump in and out. "never felt so full, 'toru. it feels s'good."

he shudders at your words and laces his fingers with yours, sweat beading on his forehead as he picks up his pace. his head dips down, his teeth nipping the skin of your neck aggressively.

"p-people are gonna see—"

"i want them to," he rumbles. "want everyone to know how good i made this tight little pussy feel."

you can't argue with him, not when this is the best anyone's ever made you feel. his head shifts even lower, his tongue moving along your nipples in a way that has your back arching off the bed.

he uses the opportunity to snake an arm beneath your lower back, holding your body against himself firmly. the new angle has you mewling his name in the most sinful way.

"you're takin' me so well. like you were made for this cock."

your head's lolling to the side as you fall to pieces beneath him and he can feel himself getting close. "look at me when i fuck you, baby."

you do as he asks, his hips stuttering when he sees the tears of pleasure swimming in your eyes. "you're mine, aren't you? tell me you're mine."

your pussy clenches around his cock so tight it's almost painful. "i'm yours, 'toru. all yours."

"fuck, that's my good girl. gonna cum for me again, hm?"

you nod up at him meekly, too far gone for words, but he doesn't seem to mind this time.

"'i'm close too, sweetheart." his fingers reach down to rub circles on your clit, eliciting a throaty moan from you.

you feel your stomach tighten and you're nearly there, but you don't go over the edge until he begs, "can i fill you up? want to so bad."

you can't find the strength to respond, so you hope the way you tighten your legs around his waist and claw at his back is answer enough.

your head rolls to the side once more, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning you to face him. "please, baby. wanna see you when i cum—"

he hums your name through a choked moan, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reaches his own high. he collapses on top of you, laying there for a moment before pulling out and rolling onto his back beside you.

no words are shared, both of you trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. the silence gives your mind a chance to wander, which is never a good thing.

you consider the fact that gojo's never kept a girl around for more than a week or two— that this probably meant way more to you than it did to him. you sit up feeling stupid and wrap your arms around your chest.

you look around the room in search of your panties, his cum running down your thighs when you stand up to grab them. it's not until you pull them up your legs that he opens his eyes. he props himself up on his elbow, furrowing his eyebrows when you pick up your dress.

"what are you doing?" he asks curiously.

"well, i figured i should go back to my room—"

"what, are you crazy?" he gawks at you. "get your ass back in this bed."

you approach him shyly, your apprehension clear to him. "i mean, you can if you want, but why would you go back to your room?"

"i just didn't know if you... you know.."

"no, i don't know." if you knew him any less, you might think he was intent on torturing you, but it's clear to you that he's genuinely confused.

you sigh. "i just didn't know what this meant for us."

"baby, i didn't think i could make it any more clear." he sits up to grab you by the wrist, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. "i'm all yours, so you're stuck with me." he tries to mask the nervousness in his voice when he asks, "is that okay with you?"

you nod, hiding your face in his neck. "took you long enough."

[twstowo]

Oyo, um I read one of your fics and it was rlly good. I'm pretty sure it was one of the 'they end up another universe twst' fics. They're rlly juicy BTW

I was thinking like...what happened if otherverse bois met normalverse yuu and they actually start liking them? Sorta yandere-ish type stuff to the point where they don't wanna leave normalverse yuu? (Yes, I've been calling normal yuu 'normalverse' yuu bc it makes a bit of sense lmao)

Understandable if you're a bit uncomfy with this :)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

♡︎This is quite an interesting idea! I had though about it once but since you asked now I'm really going to write it! Also I'm not the best with yandere themes so I hope this is good enough!

♡︎Includes: OB! Characters

♡︎Warning: Malleus's part made me kinda sad, IM SO SORRY MALLEUS LOVERS. Also all of them need therapy.

[AU Masterlist]

NV - Normalverse (Thank you for the idea Anon!)

First things first, in general, I believe that they would understand that you aren’t the same person from their Universe, however, this wouldn’t excuse the fact that every time they see your face they are thrown back to your relationship back in their world, which to say the least is not the best.

⋆⋅☆Riddle

There would be no doubt that he would dislike you intensely. Moreover, the fact that this Riddle would be even worse than the pre-overblot Riddle in the NV would put you in a difficult position.

The first time he spots you, he would be blinded by rage and probably try to behead you. Fortunately, Trey and Cater quickly save you, taking you as far away as possible from Tyrant Riddle.

He will do anything to find you, and he will have no tolerance for your actions. At the slightest inconvenience you cause, he will be right behind you, ready to tell you how much of an annoyance you are.

But you catch on to his game pretty quickly, so you counter him by being the very definition of perfection. You make sure not to break a single rule and set an example for everyone around you, and by the Sevens, that only makes him even angrier.

But is he really angry? He can’t deny that he feels slightly impressed. Among everyone else at this strange college, you are the only one who comes close to reaching the level of perfection he demands.

Slowly, he finds himself growing fonder of you. He starts thinking about bringing you back with him once he finds a way to return to his universe. You’d fit perfectly in the castle with him, and he’s certain his mother would have approved of you.

⋆⋅☆Leona

When it comes to Leona, he is more annoyed with the NV version of you than anything else. After all, you were always pestering him about being lazy and irresponsible. He had been plotting to have you exiled once he took the throne by killing his brother.

So, the first time he spots you, he's ready to turn around and leave, not wanting to hear your nagging. But that doesn’t happen. You speak to him as if he were a normal person, with no harsh words, and even smile at him when you finish talking.

Is he seeing things? Why are you so different in this universe? And why is he enjoying this new kind of attention so much?

Yet, he remains rude, constantly sending glares your way. He firmly believes you're trying to trick him into something malicious.

Still, you bring him lunch and talk about your day. You are strangely kind, something he never thought he would experience, especially from you. You are the first person ever to treat him like this.

Slowly, something starts to shift inside him. Your attention becomes something he craves, and he starts becoming obsessed, to the point where he checks if you give the same treatment to others.

And if you do, he makes sure they are out of the picture the next time you look for them. He will ensure that you have only him to turn to, to talk about your day, and to give your full attention.

⋆⋅☆Azul

OH NO! He’s had enough of your antics ruining his business! Azul puts up a sign with your face and a red cross over it in front of the Monster Lounge. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED IN!

Floyd and Jade find this absolutely hilarious and watch as you stroll into the Monster Lounge without a care in the world. (You’re literally that meme: "This sign won’t stop me, because I can’t read.") They don’t even try to stop you, they’re far too entertained by the thought of seeing how this new Azul will react to the chaos.

Let’s just say that Azul quickly learns the hard way that you aren’t here to ruin his business. Instead, you seem determined to ruin his reputation by being overly affectionate and making him squirm with your sweet words in front of all his clients, no less.

He tries to distance himself, avoiding your gaze and setting boundaries, but you keep coming back. In that, you remind him of the version of you from his own universe.

And for some reason, he finds that persistence very attractive. He can’t deny that, before you decided to ruin his business, he used to have a slight crush on you back then.

But now, you aren’t trying to ruin his business. Quite the contrary, you’re a magnet for attention, constantly drawing more customers to the Mostro Lounge.

Slowly, Azul starts losing himself in this fantasy: you and him, together, expanding his business. But at a certain point, he realizes he’s thinking more about you than the money the two of you could make.

He becomes determined to keep you by his side, even if his business suffers because of it. If all it takes to have you is tarnishing a bit of his reputation, then he’s willing to do it.

⋆⋅☆Jamil

By the Seven, he was already annoyed that Kalim was here, but you too? This was about to be the worst day of his life, two incredibly annoying people threatening to ruin his plans.

He keeps his distance, but when you spot him, he’s about to tell you to go find someone else to bother. Then, you say something completely unexpected: you’re actually annoyed by Kalim’s antics.

You? Annoyed? At Kalim?

He’s taken aback. In his universe, you and Kalim were inseparable friends, always together. But the you from this place is actually bothered by him? He doesn’t even need to know why you’re annoyed. Just the fact that someone finally agrees with him about Kalim makes him incredibly happy.

He enjoys it when you come to him with your frustrations. Whether you’re irritated by Kalim’s constant gifts or his endless parties in your honor, because you feel overwhelmed, Jamil is always there to listen. He savors your complaints, and he’s quick to add his own criticisms about Kalim, which only deepens your dislike for him.

As time goes on, you start finding comfort in Jamil’s presence. His understanding and validation make him seem like a refuge from the chaos that Kalim brings. You begin to rely on him more, and Jamil can’t help but enjoy how your dislike for Kalim boosts his own ego.

Jamil starts subtly shaping your view of Kalim. By reinforcing your negative feelings and positioning himself as your only true ally, he ensures that you depend on him more. He carefully creates situations where he appears better compared to Kalim, making himself seem like the perfect match for you.

Jamil feeds off your growing dislike for Kalim. Your negative feelings towards Kalim seem to boost his ego, and he finds himself loving your voice even more.

You deserve someone who truly understands you, and Jamil believes he’s that person. He’s confident that he’d be the perfect match for you.

⋆⋅☆Vil

There you are, Neige’s number one fan. He doesn’t even look in your direction, you aren’t worth it. Shouldn’t you be with him, guarding him like the lapdog you are?

Vil has to admit that at least you seem more elegant here. You look more relaxed and gentle, but maybe you were always like that back then. Perhaps he was just too focused on Neige to notice you.

Or maybe this version of you from this universe is simply sweeter and kinder. Perhaps here, you don’t make Neige your whole identity and actually treat Vil like a person rather than just competition for Neige.

Vil is intrigued, he finds you interesting, even. There’s a charm to you that brings him comfort. When he learns that you’re not that close to Neige here, he finds himself feeling pleased. And when you tell him that you find him “oh so much more beautiful,” he realizes that you might not be so bad after all.

Then he becomes attentive to your habits, your likes and dislikes, he memorizes every time you express any small detail about yourself only to use these as a way to create more opportunities to be closer to you. He brings up things you’ve mentioned in passing, showing how attentive he is to your likes and dislikes. His compliments become more personal, always tied to something he knows you value.

He loves especially when you talk so sweetly about him, or when he overhears you telling others how beautiful you think he is.

So whenever you mention Neige in a good way he becomes jealous, you should be exclusively devoted to him, he should be the only thing that crosses your mind and he was to make sure you only see him as your number one option.

He’s determined to make you see him as your everything, and he’ll stop at nothing to ensure that you’re his, completely and utterly.

⋆⋅☆Idia

(In here both Idia and Ortho from the AU get sent to the NV.)

Ah yes, the ruiner of fun, you.

Back in his world, he used to send his followers to pester you, hoping you'd leave him alone. But no matter what, you always managed to bounce back and ruin his mischievous plans. What was with you, always messing with the fun? If a person or two died, who would even care?

But this version of you seems so much more into the chaos. He watches as you join in Ace's dumb ideas or get excited when Ortho prepares to blast off half the school.

You actually seem like someone who would join in his schemes now, and he'd love to have some help.

Howver the idea of you laughing, scheming, or enjoying yourself with anyone else starts to eat away at him. He starts sabotaging your interactions with others, asking for Ortho’s help to keep Ace busy with other things, making sure you spend more time with him.

He starts sending Ortho on missions to monitor your every move, always keeping tabs on who you’re with and what you’re doing. If anyone tries to get too close to you, they mysteriously vanish from the scene, often without you even noticing.

Everything feels so perfect when the two of you are together, you don’t need anyone else just like he doesn’t need anyone else.

⋆⋅☆Malleus

Poor Malleus had been treated badly by his crush back in his universe. You never answered the letters he sent, and he had heard that all the little trinkets and flowers were returned because you didn’t want any of them.

So when this version of you from this strange new place treats him with such devotion, such kindness, and accepts his small gifts, even inviting him to spend time with you, he can hardly believe what’s happening.

This was essentially a dream come true for him. He wonders if it had been you he sent all those letters to, whether you would have written him back with the same excitement.

Why, then, hadn’t this lovely and perfect version of you been the one in his universe? Why was he the one left unloved in his world?

He wants to take you with him. Surely, you love him, you wouldn’t be angry if he took you back to his castle. The two of you could finally do all the things he had dreamed about while gazing lovingly at the flowers he once sent you.

After all, why else would you shower him with such kindness? Why else would you invite him to spend time with you? You must love him too.

[pricegouge]

Get Her a Dog (She'll be Happier For It)

Part Two | master list | MDNI

Soap x reader, Price x reader, eventual PriceSoap x reader

series cw: cheating. dubcon. angst. cuckholding. pet play.

chapter cw: angst, pining for another man's wife

reader is fem and fat

Mostly, he blames himself. For the late hours and the cold, empty bed; the broken promises Soap had been too preoccupied to keep. The general, dejected state of her. John knows he's a fixer, knows himself well enough to spot the pattern: pick a project, tend to it, leave it better than you found it. He's not sure where he went wrong with Soap's bird, or if it was indeed the failure itself that kept him circling like a dog with a bone under its bed, all he knew was how very, very fucked he was.

John sleeps on base most nights. An old habit he picked up when his marriage was falling apart, though it served him well enough still - kept him busy late into the night when his thoughts had a tendency to turn treacherously domestic. Home was a place to unwind for most soldiers, a reward to work towards, but John feared his wires had been crossed long ago. The day he was born, possibly. For him, home was the sense memory of damp, musty laundry he'd forgotten to change over before crawling into a cold bed despite promising he would at best, or the empty, aimless space he'd toil away at between missions at worst. On paper, he lived in a nice, secure apartment out in Leeds, though in effect he may as well have taken his captaincy for the ensuite it came with.

It's a good tactic, mostly, one that had worked for hundreds of higher ranked officers before him and would continue to work long after he's gone, MIA or otherwise. The problem unique to John in this situation, however, was his inability to look his own sergeant in the eye without being reminded of the very thoughts he was trying to run away from.

It was an absurd thing, really - the complex spectrum of reactive emotions John often fell victim to while just trying to do his damn job. After the career he'd led, John had considered himself quite prepared for the position of an officer. Had trained himself to respond to any and all obstacles with a level head and an uncompromising efficiency; an unrelenting ruthlessness honed so sharp that lesser officers often cut themselves on it. It had been useful, economic, a gnomon by which he had navigated a career even the former Mrs. Price could not fault.

His storied career, however, had failed to prepare him for Sergeant John MacTavish. Or his bloody little wife.

He’s a force of a man is the problem, equal parts hard to love and hard to hate though there are times when John desperately wishes he could do the latter. Nights he lay awake - even in the curated sterility of his rooms on base - thinking of the pretty bird that warms Soap’s empty bed, her dour countenance and the big, hopeful eyes she'd turn on him with every visit. It would be a convenience to hate Soap, but adept as John is at bending his morals to fit his own goals, blaming Soap for the shortcomings of his relationship is simply not a circle he can square.

Mostly, he blames himself. For the late hours and the cold, empty bed; the broken promises Soap had been too preoccupied to keep. The general, dejected state of her. John knows he's a fixer, knows himself well enough to spot the pattern: pick a project, tend to it, leave it better than you found it. He's not sure where he went wrong with Soap's bird, or if it was indeed the failure itself that kept him circling like a dog with a bone under its bed, all he knew was how very, very fucked he was.

The thing is, despite every moment of his past pointing to the opposite conclusion, John can take no for an answer. Really, he can. But 'I'm married' is not 'Get away from me.' And 'I don't want to hurt Johnny,' is not, 'I don't want you,' and damn him but he can't get that distinction out of his head.

He'd told Kate about it once, drunk on thirty year old Lagavulin after a particularly memorable win. She'd listened raptly for an hour, probably - hard to tell time for the way the clock hands swam -, and then summarily told him to get his goddamn act together because MacTavish was a great sergeant, one John himself had specifically requested, and she wasn't going to be sending him away anytime soon. 

She's right, he knows. Soap is far too indispensable as sniper and demolitions both, and is marked for a captaincy of his own, besides. MacTavish didn't deserve the blight of an officer-requested transfer on his rap sheet, and John had no real want to give him one anyway. Because he didn't hate Soap. Couldn't, despite every waking thought telling him it would be easier to do so. MacTavish's affability ran too deep; primal, John suspected. Something about the rakish grin and the boisterous laugh. Brought people back to a time when the war crimes of the village brute could be summed up in a single court hearing. He'd even managed to reel Ghost in, so John couldn't really be blamed for his soft spot.

But if he had to suffer through one more illuminating conversation about how inconsiderate the man was on the home front, John was going to have to take matters into his own hands and there was nothing else for it.

Someone had to make that pretty bird happy, after all.

***

Orders come through late in the evening but John knows his men well enough he barely hesitates. Simon, nearly preternatural in his ability to know when he's needed, picks up so quickly John has to check to be sure the call registers as outgoing on his phone. Gaz, eager to prove himself, is similar, sleep clearing from his voice the second he hears his captain's rough growl on the other end.

It's John who gives the last call pause, finger hovering over Soap's contact almost regretfully. One in the morning, day before the bird's birthday. She'll be upset, even if Soap isn't. If John could do this without the man he would, but it's not up to him and he can't fight it this close to wheels up so he hits call and waits for the Scot to answer with something close to contrition settling in his stomach.

Soap picks up on the third ring, voice alert but distracted. Huffy. Strained and short of breath. Dark and burly. 

It's instinctual; hard pressed. John's been trained all his life to be observational, to seek out answers where none are freely given. It doesn't turn off just because the person on the other end of the line is his own sergeant, but that doesn't explain the way his breath catches as he listens to the background of Soap's call, how his stomach turns to lead as he leaps to assumptions; waits for confirmation, hoping he's wrong; hoping he's right just so he can hear -

A whistle sounds, the tinny noise of stadium cheer compressed through a cheap sound system. Soap groans in defeat and mutes the TV. "Evenin', cap, to what do ah owe?"

"You're… up?" John double checks the time on his phone just to be sure but there's no getting past it. Soap is watching a match of some sort at 01:00 hours. Not outside the realm of normalcy, but odd enough. 

"Time difference," Johnny grunts, already distracted again. 

"Who's even playing?"

"Looks like Germany." Not even invested in it. He should be keeping his pretty bird warm in her little nest, but what did John know? He was a divorcee himself after all, and awake himself no less.

"Well wish 'em luck. Wheels up by oh-four-hundred."

"Where to?" Eager as always. No trace of regret for the day he'd miss. 

"Madrid. Got a hit on a large scale weapons dealer. Pack light."

"Aye, sir. See ye soon."

***

John used to think the hardest part about traveling so much for his job was all the jet lag, or all the late nights spent scrambling to make a charter he'd only been given an hour's heads up on. 

Now, he knows the hardest part is the company that takes up space in the seat next to you.

Garrick's squirrely. Usually is when he's heading into a mission he doesn't know the ins and outs of too well. It's an easy job, low stakes. More intel collection than anything, though the risk of a muck up in such a heavily populated area warranted the use of a team as highly specialized as them. Still, debrief had been almost suspiciously minimal, and Gaz was subtly unsettled by it, if his chattiness was anything to go by.

It's always Soap who indulges him, the two sergeants evenly matched in their geniality. Normally, it's a blessing to have them paired up, entertaining each other. But tonight, Gaz wants only to talk about Soap's bird and her upcoming celebration. So when Gaz asks what Soap got his wife for her birthday, and the man just shrugs and says he’d been planning on taking her out to dinner that night, John’s hard pressed not to swallow his cigar in shock and shame and anger.

“You didn’t get her anything?” Gaz doubles down, good lad, and John lets the ensuing squabble wash over him while he runs mental damage control, primary target swapped from arms dealers to fixing the bird’s ruined day from afar quicker than he can even process the change. He’s distracted the rest of the ride, even more so when they go through the monotony of establishing themselves on site. John slips away the second he’s able, orders same day flowers from a hotel lobby after smiling sleazily at the receptionist to garner a quick favor, knowing better than to use his burner to give out Soap's address.

"And the message, sir?" The clerk on the other end of the line prompts once he's settled on a pretty little arrangement meant to convey regrets and observances both, apparently. She's hopeful, he thinks, like she's rooting for a love story.

"'Sorry I missed it. John.'"

He can almost hear her deflate. "Sure thing, luv. Anything else?"

"No, that's -." John stops, voice guttering out. From his vantage point by the desk, John watches as outside on the sidewalk where he'd left the lad, Soap helps an overeager child to her feet after she'd gone tumbling to the ground, helping her to brush gravel off her palms. His voice is hardly recognizable when he speaks again. "Johnny."

"Sir?"

"Sorry, that's -. The name. Johnny. Love Johnny."

"Oh. Easy enough fix. Have a good day, sir."

He doesn't bother returning the pleasantry.

Next>>

[gubsbuubs]

The Sign

Pairing: Chip Taylor x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3.5K

Warnings: Drinking, fluffly smut, creampie.

Summary: As Chip sought an escape from his troubles, a vibrant bar sign beckoned to him. Intrigued, he stepped inside, not knowing what the night had in store for him.

Preview: “Will you let me take care of you, Chip?” I ask in the sweetest tone, my voice laced with desire as his eyes met mine.“Please be gentle with me,” he begged with a pout.

A/N: I love Chip so much, just wanna hold him in my arms.

I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

MASTERLIST

The bar had settled into a quiet hum, with a scattering of regulars lounging at their usual spots, half-engaged in a random game flickering on the TV. I seized the opportunity to clean up the sticky residue left behind by a night of beer spills and colorful cocktails, wiping down the counter with rhythmic precision.

A gentle ding echoed through the air as the entrance door swung open, announcing the arrival of a new customer. He took a seat on a stool, keeping his gaze fixed downward. The words spilled out in a wearied tone: "Give me some Jack on the Rocks, please."

Responding to the request, I pivoted towards the top shelf, snagging Jack Daniels. With the clink of ice cubes, I poured a generous amount, recognizing from his demeanor that he could use it.

“There you go," I offered, sliding the drink across the freshly cleaned surface.

Only then that he lifted his head.

His eyes, a rich shade of brown, were captivating yet carried an air of melancholy and fatigue. As they met mine, I couldn't help but notice the subtle weariness etched into his features. A slightly busted lip hinted at a rough patch he might have navigated recently.

The man, who had just walked into the bar, possessed a unique kind of beauty. His eyes, reminiscent of warm mahogany, held stories untold beneath their gaze. The strong bone structure framed a face that seemed to wear the weight of experiences, and his soft and pink lips betrayed a vulnerability hidden behind a worn exterior. In his presence, there was an intriguing blend of strength and fragility—a captivating allure that set him apart in the dimly lit atmosphere of the bar.

His response, a quiet "thanks," hung in the air, leaving an air of mystery around him. Intrigue danced in the atmosphere as I observed him. There was a certain beauty in his quiet gratitude, a sense of vulnerability that added layers to the enigma before me.

His appearance struck a chord, akin to that of a lost puppy finding its way to unfamiliar territory. Despite his undeniable beauty, there was an air of solitude, a silent plea for understanding. As he sat there, seemingly adrift in his thoughts, I couldn't help but feel a tug of compassion, a desire to unravel the story behind those captivating eyes.

“Rough night, hun?” I queried, hoping to ignite a bit of conversation.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he chuckled in response, his eyes briefly meeting mine before lowering again. There was a weight in his words, a heaviness that hinted at the struggles he might be carrying within.

I leaned on the counter, wanting to offer a sympathetic ear. “Well, you’re in good company. People say a bartender is like a makeshift therapist. We listen, pour drinks, and hope things get a little better.”

"I'd rather not talk about it," he said, taking a gulp of his drink.

"Oh...Yeah...that's more than okay. I'll be over there if you need anything." I spoke in a quiet voice, straightening up as if preparing to leave him to his thoughts.

Maybe he just wanted to be alone.

"Hey, no, no, no, stay. I… I´d really appreciate the company," he said, giving me the sweetest half-smile, his look softening.

 The silence embraced us for a bit, before I decided to chime in again.

“So… I’ve never seen you around here before.” I leaned in once more, offering a different approach to the conversation.

"Yeah, I'm not from around here. Just passing through"

"Yeah, I knew I didn’t recognize your face. Small town, you know,” I remarked with a grin. “Do you have a name, or are you going for the mysterious stranger vibe?”

The hearty laugh that echoed from his chest illuminated his features with a small yet captivating smile. He was undeniably attractive; his grin seemed to brighten the entire room.

“It’s Chip, Chip Taylor,” he offered, his eyes carrying a spark of amusement.

"Nice to meet you, Chip. I'm Y/n," I offered, reaching my hand across the counter for a handshake. His grip was firm, yet his touch remained gentle, and the warmth in his hands felt inviting.

"Well, well, Mr. Taylor, what brings you to this little slice of paradise?" I asked as I poured a drink for myself.

He chuckled. "Honestly, I don't even know. I just got in the car and drove. When I saw the sign, I decided to come in.”

I jokingly said, "Guess the universe knew it; you needed a sign—literally."

We both laughed, and he agreed, "Well, I guess signs do work in mysterious ways."

“So, are you planning to stay for a couple of days, or is this just a one-night stop?" I inquired.

"Honestly, I don't even know. I didn't plan anything," he responded with a shrug, a hint of uncertainty in his expression.

"Sounds like someone will be sleeping in their car tonight," I joked, a playful smile accompanying my words.

"Well, it might just come to that. But who knows?" he said, offering me a smile as he took another sip of his drink.

As the night progressed, Chip and I found ourselves engrossed in conversation, our words flowing effortlessly. He proved to be easygoing and open, making the dialogue naturally enjoyable. Through our exchange, I learned that beneath the busted-out exterior, Chip was genuinely a sweet guy.

Sadly, it became evident that a girl had definitely made a number on his pretty little head, and from what I could gather, that seemed to have left him with a sense of being lost and lonely, undeserving of love.

As Chip shared tales about his ex-girlfriend, Liza, was her name, it was pretty clear that he had experienced a whirlwind of emotions. The warmth and kindness he exuded clashed sharply with the pain inflicted by someone he had once cared deeply for. Each word seemed to carry the weight of a past filled with unsuspecting toxicity.

Listening to him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for this beautiful soul who had been blindsided by the harsh realities of his last relationship. His genuine belief in love and commitment made the way she treated him more repulsive. I wondered how someone could overlook the treasure that Chip was—someone who radiated sweetness and cared for others with a sincere heart.

Yet, despite the wounds he carried, Chip maintained a certain innocence in his recounting. It was as if he couldn't fathom the depths of the toxicity until it consumed him. My heart ached for him, and I found myself wanting to shield this gentle soul from further harm.

As the other customers gradually left, Chip willingly joined me in tidying up the tables and washing the remaining cups. Amid laughter and shared stories, we closed the bar together, his presence a comforting company that made the tasks feel lighter.

"It might be your lucky day, Taylor," I told him as I watched him close the metal guards at the front.

"How so?" He asked in a gentle tone as he rose to his feet.

"Well, you helped me a lot tonight, and I just feel like I should return the favor. So, how about you crash at my place?" I offered; it was the least I could do for him. “It’s that one, right across the street.”

"Oh, Y/N, no way. I don't want to step into your space like that." He held his hands up as if unsure about accepting the invitation.

I grabbed his arm as I started to walk to my house. "Hey, it's okay, I insist. I bet my couch, although very old, is still more comfortable than your car." I laughed.

I noticed a hesitant yet grateful smile forming on his lips, a silent acceptance of the offer.

“Come on, Chip, you can even take a shower and change into some spare clothes I have lying around.”

“They’re my brother's. He has some spares at my house for when he stays here to help me out with the bar,” I offered a small explanation.

"And your boyfriend won’t mind me wearing his clothes?" His tone held a curious edge, a playful note that suggested a mix of light-hearted banter and genuine interest. There was a subtle spark in his eyes, as if he was testing the waters, teasing to see my reaction.

"His clothes or not, you're letting a stranger stay at your house. I bet he won't like it." He was now fidgeting with his fingers as he waited for me to open the door.

“Chip,” I laughed at his awkwardness, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

As we stepped into the house, I motioned for Chip to get comfortable.

“Can I get you anything?” I offered it in a sweet tone.

"I'm good, thank you,"

I grabbed some spare clothes for him. While he freshened up in the main bathroom, I decided to take a quick shower in my room.

Half-expecting to find him already asleep as I approached the living room, the soft glow of the lamp revealed Chip, not asleep but comfortably seated on the couch, engrossed isome random show playing on tv.

"You clean up nicely. Feeling better?" I asked.

Dressed in a white shirt and comfortable sweats, he seemed at ease.

As I studied his demeanor, it was evident that the stress had lifted off his shoulders. His posture became more relaxed, and the subtle lines of tension that had etched themselves across his face seemed to ease He exuded a sense of calm and peace, looking remarkably beautiful on my sofa. His lip, no longer marred with dried blood, revealed a gentler man, and the earlier signs of roughness had disappeared. He looked not just good, but like he belonged here.

Chip looked up with a soft smile on his lips.

"Much better, thanks to you," he replied.

“Anytime,” I said, returning his smile. “So, do you usually end up in random towns, or is this a first?”

He chuckled. “Well, it’s not a regular occurrence, but life has its surprises. Sometimes you just go with the flow.”

“Must make for some interesting stories,” I commented, settling onto the couch.

“You have no idea,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes.

As our conversation meandered through the night, Chip’s gaze softened, and a more vulnerable side emerged. He fidgeted with the edge of his shirt, his eyes occasionally dropping to his hands.

“You know...” he hesitated, “Meeting you, it’s been a bright spot in a bit of a rough patch.”

I smiled, sensing a genuine sincerity in his words. “I’m glad our paths crossed,” I admitted.

He sighed, a mixture of nervousness and contemplation in the air. “Can I be honest?” Chip looked up, meeting my eyes with a touch of uncertainty.

“Of course,” I encouraged, curious about the turn in our conversation.

He shifted on the couch and said, “I wasn’t expecting to feel this… comfortable. It’s like I’ve known you longer than just tonight.”

The vulnerability in his expression tugged at my heart. “Sometimes, connections happen unexpectedly,” I replied, choosing my words carefully.

Chip nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude. “Maybe it’s the universe giving me a sign.”

There was a subtle shift in the air, an unspoken understanding between us. As I met his gaze, I noticed a hint of longing, a desire for connection that went beyond words.

He hesitated, then, with a shy smile, he said, “Would it be too forward if I said I’d really like to kiss you right now?”

I felt a warmth spreading within, appreciating his honesty. “Not too forward at all,” I admitted, mirroring his smile.

He inched his way to my face, his nose touching mine. I could feel his breath, smelling of the whiskey I had poured him earlier. His lips brushed over mine as if seeking confirmation, and in that moment, I leaned in, and our kiss began. It was soft, filled with affection, a gentle exploration of each other's feelings.

I brought my hands to his face, cupping it delicately. My fingers played with the soft hairs on the back of his neck. The kiss deepened slightly, each movement a synchronized dance of two souls finding solace in each other's company.

With a mild pull, we found ourselves sinking into the sofa, our lips meeting again in a sweet and unhurried kiss. The room seemed to fade away as we lost ourselves in the intoxicating warmth of the moment. Soft sighs and the light rustle of fabric became a symphony to my ears.

As our kisses deepened, the desire for closeness grew. Chip shifted his weight as he continued to savor the connection that seemed to deepen with each passing second. His hands traced gentle patterns on my back and sides.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my cheek.

"Chip, you have no idea how beautiful you are," I replied, my fingers gently tracing the contours of his face. "You’re so sweet and kind; you deserve nothing but love.” My eyes met his; his lips were open, but no words came out, so I continued, “I want to treat you right, the way you should have been treated before."

He looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "I... I've never had someone say something like that to me."

My hand gently tugged at his neck as I whispered, "She didn't deserve you, Chip. Every little second she spent with you, she didn't deserve it."

He breathed in deeply, and I felt his Adam's apple bobbing under my fingertips as he looked up at me with his big brown eyes.

"Why are you being so good to me?"

In that quiet space right before our lips met again, you could practically feel the tension in the air. It was like this magnetic pull, and I swear, you could almost hear our hearts beating in sync.I could feel the gentle touch of his fingers, a feather-light caress that traced the contours of my face, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. The room was dim, but it felt like everything was glowing. You know those moments when time kinda stops? Yeah, it was one of those. I could sense his breath mixing with mine, and there was this unspoken language passing between our eyes. It was all anticipation, a sweet torture, and then, in a heartbeat, our lips crashed back together.

Our bodies synced in a rhythmic dance, his hips gently pressing into mine. The sensation of his hardness against the warmth between my thighs was like a wildfire spreading through me, making my toes curl in sweet response.

His hands explored the curves of my body, tracing a path that sent shivers down my spine. The touch was electric, making my breath catch in the midst of pleasure. Our mouths collided in a passionate exchange, each kiss leaving us both breathless and wanting more. His lips migrated from mine to my neck, leaving a trail of sweet kisses in their wake. Meanwhile, his hands found a comfortable spot on my hips, gently pulling me closer to him. The squeeze was tender, yet firm.

I guided him backward onto the couch, settling myself on his lap. Leaning in, I pressed soft kisses along his neck, the taste of his skin driving my desire. Running my teeth lightly against it, I elicited a quiet moan from him. Leaning further, our lips met in a fiery kiss, passion igniting between us. The world faded away as I lost myself in the intensity of the moment, our connection deepening with every shared breath and every stolen kiss.

“You’re driving me insane, Y/N," he whispered in my ear as his hands met my hips to guide me as I grinned on his fully hard but still covered dick.

“I’ve barely even started,” I chuckled as I placed small kisses on his collarbone. He responded with a sharp inhale, laying his head back and grinding his hips up to meet mine.

“Will you let me take care of you, Chip?” I ask in the sweetest tone, my voice laced with desire as his eyes met mine.

“Please be gentle with me,” he begged with a pout.

Those pretty brown eyes begging me were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and it made me grow even hotter than before. I responded with a soft smile, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek and lowering myself on the ground in front of him.

“Y/n, you don't have to," but there was a subtle hint of hope in his eyes, secretly wishing I wouldn’t stop what I was doing. And so I didn't. As my hands laid flat on his thighs, I looked at him and said, "But I want to."

The whimper he let out was delicious, clearly growing desperate as my hands worked the string of his sweats. He raised his hips a little so I could help him out of them, freeing him completely.

“Baby... your cock is so pretty,” I told him with a sweet smile.

“Humm.. is it?” He asked in a quiet moan, with uncertainty coaxing his voice.

“Humm..humm” I placed a soft kiss on the tip. “The prettiest.” I then slowly started to kitten-lick before taking him into my mouth as my right hand started to move.

As his head fell back, his hand met the back of my neck. He couldn’t contain himself as he moaned loudly. Fuck, this man was vocal, and his soft moans and whimpers were making me wetter than ever before.

As I sucked on his cock, his hand pulled on my hair, guiding me however he saw fit. Suddenly, he pulled me up. "Please stop, or I’m going to cum," he moaned, his body shuddering with pleasure. “I want to be inside of you.”

Now was my turn to moan at his words; he sounded so sincere, like he longed for it.

As I rose from the ground, I took my pants off and motined for him to also take the rest of his clothes off.

I held a twinkle in my eyes as I suggested, “You want to help me out, pretty boy?”

He immediately lunged forward, grabbing my ass and pulling me close to his mouth. His open-mouth kisses on my stomach sent fireworks of pleasure through my body, and I felt as if every nerve in my body had lit up with desire.

His fingers grazed my sides as he hooked them on the fabric of my panties, pulling them down.

He then took my shirt off before pulling me into his lap once again.

I reached between us, taking his dick in my hand and lining it up with my entrance. As I sank down, he captured my lips once again, moaning in my mouth at the sensation of him filling me up.

“Fuck Chip, you feel so good, so big inside of me,” I said, looking into his eyes. He almost melted, his lips half open, letting a sweet moan escape.

“You’re so warm, Y/N, so tight." He hissed as I stared to move. "Fuck,” he moaned in a high-pitched tone.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

“Oh my god...” He cried, “So good.”

"I bet Liza never made you feel this good," I teased, kissing his neck softly.

"Never," he moaned, his body shivering with pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet she's nowhere near as good as me at making you feel good," I said, biting his neck hard enough to leave a mark.

"There's nothing that could ever compare to this," he moaned, his hands wrapped around me and his entire body tense with pleasure.

As I moved up and down, I felt his hands travel along my body, sending me a shiver of pleasure. His breath quickened, and his whimpers became more incoherent with each movement.

“Y/n.. y/n I ca..” He tried to speak, but the sentences seemed hard to form.

“What is it, baby boy?” I asked as I grabbed his chin, making him keep his eyes on mine.

"I need to..." He sounded desperate, and my walls squeezed at his neediness.

"Oh, baby,” I moaned. “Am I fucking you so good you can't even hold a conversation?”

He quickly nodded his head in affirmation.

Oh, what a sight! He looked so worked up, and his eyes begged me to not stop my movements as his dick hit my cervix.

“Can I please..." He tried to form the full sentence, but a moan inturremped him. I could feel the fires of passion burning inside me with each stroke, his cock twitching, yearning for release.

He breath in deeply “Can I please cum inside”.

“Yes baby” I moaned “Please cum for me” I held him close as I rode our shared climax. The felling of his load spilling into me made me feel full.

As I reclined on the couch, Chip nestled himself between my legs, his head finding a restful spot on my chest. Despite lingering fatigue, his demeanor shifted to one of contentment and tranquility. With gentle strokes, I caressed his head, feeling the softness of his hair.

"Well, that was unexpected,” he spoke, breaking the moment with a light-hearted chuckle.

I laughed, “The best things usually are.”

Chip’s gaze softened, and he looked at me with a mix of gratitude and realization. “You know, YN, I never thought I could feel so much love from someone. It’s… it’s different.”

I smiled, appreciating the sincerity in his words. “Different can be a beautiful thing. You know? The ordinary becomes extraordinary in the company of the right person.”

Chip sighed contentedly, his eyes drifting closed. "Well, I think I found the right person tonight."

And with those words, he succumbed to the embrace of slumber, the room filled with the soft sounds of a peaceful night.

[d1xonss]

Hey have a great day! 🫶🏻🪻Could you write about Reader who lives in Alexandria when The group first were brought by Aaron.Daryl noticing the resemblance between him and reader being distant from actual citizens in Alexandria and not wanting to participate in parties or fun always going out from the gates to forest.Reader also has a huge scar on her eye something like Carl’s. Daryl making her feel beautiful showing each other their scars and fluffy ending

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 2k

AN ~ Me actually finishing a request that’s been sitting in my drafts forever?? Everyone clap😌. No but seriously, I'm proud of myself for finally getting this done, I hope it was worth the wait and you guys enjoy it. xoxox

You were the first person he noticed. That’s what he thought anyway. He wasn’t focused on the new houses, the strong walls, or the many unrealistic luxuries the new community provided. His curiosity solely remained on you from the very first moment he could remember.

You were different from the other people who lived in the area. Whilst they were all warm and welcoming the second he and his family stepped through the gates, you didn’t seem the least bit interested in their arrival. Though you were still present, watching from a distance as you absorbed the new faces, yet you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to greet them properly. He remembered how you stood on the porch of your house, your arms folded over your chest as you eyed everyone somewhat suspiciously. He remembered how your gaze seemed to linger on Carl and Judith, noting the two kids that needed a place like this to be safe.

But the thing he would surely never forget, was when he first spotted your scar. From a distance even, he could make out the shape of a long, crooked gash that traveled from the middle of your forehead and down toward your eye, stopping in the area right above your cheek. It was prominent, noticeable from even a hundred feet away, and something that surely was proof that you had been through a lot. Though even if you didn’t have any evidence on your skin, Daryl could still tell from your weariness that life outside of these walls wasn’t all that generous to you. Just as it hadn’t been for him.

Weeks seemed to pass by, and he still didn’t even know your name. Yet he was very observant whenever he managed to spot you walking down the streets of Alexandria, almost as if he had a sixth sense like he knew you were near. Most of the time he would just watch you, curious and hesitant, not looking to bother you though he couldn’t help but be intrigued. However, he picked up a pattern in your routine, noting that around the same time everyday you would leave the community to head off into the woods. For hours you would just disappear, not coming back until the sun was starting to cast an orange and pink glow to the sky. 

Though every time you would return, you came back with nothing. Not an animal, not a single can of food, nothing. It confused Daryl slightly, wondering what it was you did out there for the entire day only to come back empty handed.

He felt drawn to you, relating in a way that the others couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Whether you knew it or not, the two of you seemed to have a lot in common, not even needing to be on speaking terms to know that for a fact. Both quiet and reserved with a harsh past, not liking to interact much with others seeing as you hardly left your home, other than to head off into the forest day after day. The wilderness alone seemed to be something you both enjoyed as well. Perhaps you also liked to hunt, or maybe you also had a love for bikes and trinkets. Daryl didn’t know for sure, but one of these days, he wanted to find out.

The man wasn’t good with words, which was why it had taken him so long to build up the courage to speak to you in the first place. But when he spotted you sitting near the pond, reading a book he was surprisingly familiar with…he took a chance. For the first time in his life it seemed like, he threw caution to the wind and decided to go through with it before he changed his mind.

His hands clenched and unclenched nervously with each step he took to approach you, not even fully knowing what to say once he got there. He racked his brain over and over again as you were just a few feet away now, but ultimately he ended up with nothing, now awkwardly just standing in front of the bench you sat at.

But sensing his presence, you looked up from the pages to see him lingering near, his heart doing a flip in his chest. You were…beautiful. He had never really seen you up close until this very moment, but now that he had, it was like he never wanted to look away. He could see the gold flakes in your eyes, the freckles that were scattered all over your face, and lastly…the scar that was embedded in your flesh. But it didn’t bother him at all. In fact…he liked it.

A sheepish, lopsided smile crossed his face as he nervously ran a hand over the back of his neck, “Hey…”

He watched as you slowly smiled back at him, setting your book off to the side, something he didn’t necessarily expect. But you had a certain look to your expression, telling him that you had been wanting to seek him out just as much as he did you.

“Hi…” your voice spoke softly.

And from that point on, he was hooked.

The two of you had grown to be insuperable, which was somewhat of a shock to the rest of the community seeing as neither of you really liked anyone. But with each other, it was somehow different. Like there was an understanding there. You could be sat in comfortable silence without really being alone, enjoying each other's presence even if you didn’t have the energy to fill the quiet. Or you could have company when going on small runs or hunting trips, which Daryl ultimately found out you liked to do. Or there would be times where neither of you could seem to shut up, bouncing stories back and forth as you shared a bottle of whiskey which also helped loosen the tongue.

But the bottom line was, you were happy. For the first time in your life, you finally felt like you had found your person. A soulmate you didn’t even know existed, yet he seemed to fall right into your lap.

Though one afternoon, Daryl noticed you were a bit quieter than usual. At first he didn’t think much of it as he assumed you didn’t feel like talking much that day. But the longer he observed you, the more he could sense that something was wrong, that something might’ve been bugging you. And the truth was he was right, something had been bothering you. But you would rather die than bring it up to him.

Your voice filled the silence of the forest as the two of you sat in the grass of the clearing, reading aloud from the book that was propped up in your hands. Daryl observed you as he laid on his back, one arm placed underneath his head as the other drew absentminded circles up and down your arm. He usually wasn’t one for physical touch, in fact most of the time he cringed at the thought. But again, with you, it was different. He felt comfortable enough to be open and vulnerable with you, just as you were with him. Or so he thought until he slowly came to the realization that you were clearly keeping something from him.

Once you finished the chapter and closed the book to set aside, he let the silence linger for a moment before he spoke quietly, “You okay?”

You looked down at him, forcing a small smile, “Yeah…I’m fine. Why?”

He tilted his head, “Come on. Ya know you can talk to me bout anythin.” he said as he slowly sat up to scoot beside you, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

A soft sigh left your lips, “I’m fine.” you repeated.

“Yer a terrible liar.” he retorted, though he didn’t push much further. He knew if you wanted to tell him, you would, and he didn’t want to make you uneasy by bringing up the subject over and over again. He just worried about you, being someone he cared about deeply, it came at a price of some heavy protectiveness.

You slowly shook your head as you looked down at the few wildflowers in front of you, “Just…one of those days.” you admitted quietly.

His heart sank a little as he knew what you meant by that. There were times where you would get down in the dumps about yourself, feeling a bit more insecure than usual. It was something common, hell he even knew the feeling himself, but it still hurt to see. Especially when he couldn’t wrap his head around it; to him you were the most stunning person in the entire world.

After a moment he gently reached out to take your chin in his grasp, turning your face so you would look at him. His eyes studied you, his thumb moving up to trace the line of your scar, the same insecurity that your mind seemed to linger on the most.

“Yer beautiful.” he said softly.

You huffed quietly with a slight roll of your eyes, clearly trying to brush off his comment as if it didn’t register or matter to you. “M’ serious.” he tried again.

“Well, I don’t feel beautiful.” you gently argued, “Everyone always stares…like this is the only thing they can see when they look at me.” you said quietly as you gestured to the thing marking your flesh.

He tilted his head a little as he took in your words, knowing where you were coming from as it couldn’t be easy having to deal with that every single day. But somehow he wanted to prove how special you were, how breathtaking you were in his eyes, how he hardly even focused on your flaws. Because to him, your “flaws” were only what made you more perfect to him.

“You wanna know how I see ya?”

You tilted your head at him, as if you knew his answer would make you cry and gag at the same time as affection was still something you were getting used to. Though at the same time, you wanted to hear.

“I see ya as someone who’s got the biggest heart the world has ever seen. I see ya…as someone brave, and smart…and stubborn as all hell.” he listed. You couldn’t help but laugh at the last one, knowing it was true.

“But mostly…when I look at you, I see the most beautiful person I ever laid my eyes on.”

The sincerity in his voice was enough to cause a lump to form in your throat, knowing that he meant every word. He truly cared about you, he had proved that time and time again since you had met him. Honestly, you didn’t know what you did to deserve someone who cared about you so dearly, but you sure as hell weren’t going to take it for granted. Not now, not ever.

“I know it’s not an easy thing to get past…shit, m’ still self conscious about my own demons sometimes. But whenever ya start to feel like this…I just want ya to know I’ll always be there to reassure ya. Alright?”

You slowly nodded your head, leaning forward to wrap your arms around him in a hug, sighing at the feeling of his touch. His hands gently gripped your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder, willing to hold you for as long as you needed. Willing to tell you however many times you needed to hear it, just how special and important you were. He wanted to make sure you felt loved, knowing that you hadn’t received much of that in your past. It was like he wanted to heal your inner child, just like you were doing for him.

“I…” you started to say, but the words seemed to get lodged in your throat, not fully knowing how to express yourself comfortably.

But Daryl just tightened his grip on you, “I know…me too.”

~ Thanks for reading! (And for your patience)

[triptuckers]

wild flowers - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Can I request a platonic Percy Jackson x Child of Demeter!Reader based off the new Disney series? Where Child of Demeter!Reader is significantly older than Percy (17/18 maybe?) and is the one to welcome him to camp instead of Luke. Reader is more gentle and understanding to Percy's questions and is in general sort of a parent figure in the camp?" Pairing:  percy jackson x demeter!reader (platonic) Summary:  you welcome the newest kid at camp half-blood Warnings:  none (omg??) Word count:  1.1K A/N: was excited when I saw the new episode will be out on Tuesday but then I looked at the time zone and it's 3 am for me so I'll still watch it on wednesday :') thanks for your request, enjoy!

you try not to look away as percy, the newest addition to camp half-blood, nearly shoots another camper. he falls to the ground due to the force of the bow.

'alright.' you say, walking over to see if percy's okay. 'so not archery.'

'I didn't mean to!' says percy, looking at the kids who had flattened themselves to the ground to avoid being shot.

'of course you didn't, they know that. can I have the bow?' you say.

percy quickly shoves the bow in your hands as well as the quiver of arrows. you hand them back to the apollo kid who was teaching him with a thanks and an apologetic smile.

'see, I suck at this.' says percy. 'I'm not good at anything.'

'hey, that's not true.' you say. 'everyone is good at something. c'mon, I'll take you to my favorite spot at camp.'

that gets his attention. 'your favorite spot?'

'yep. right this way.'

you lead him away from the archery field. you can tell he's curious. you take him to the strawberry field, where some of the satyrs and your siblings are tending to the plants.

you walk past the strawberries to a field of grass where wild flowers grow.

'it's pointless.' says percy as the two of you sit down.

you frown. 'what is?'

he gestures around. 'all of this. I'm not one of you. it's clear there's something wrong with me. none of this matters because my dad won't reveal himself, he doesn't care. my mom is gone. I suck at archery. and I can't work in the forge. I can't do anything.'

you look at him. most kids are tough on themselves when they arrive. percy isn't any different.

'at least you didn't suck as much at archery than I did.' you say. 'contrary to you, I actually did hit someone when trying out archery '

percy's eyes widen. 'you did?'

you nod. 'apollo kids had to patch them up. luckily it wasn't that bad. but still I haven't touched a bow since. and I'm also not good at sword fighting. I only carry one because it's the weapon I suck the least with.'

'what if you suck at everything?' asks percy softly.

you smile at him. 'this is all normal. we all felt like this when we came here, regardless if we could already fight or not. and look at me, I still can't fight that well. I'm a joke compared to luke and clarisse if it comes to fighting. gods, even annabeth is better than me and she's your age.'

you point ahead to the strawberry fields. 'my cabin doesn't bring forth the best fighters. and that's okay. we're good at other things.' you say.

percy looks at your siblings, sure enough, not a lot of them carry weapons. maybe you do because you're head counsellor of your cabin.

'when did you find out who your mom was?' asks percy.

you sense he's not just curious about your godly heritage. he wants to know how long it would take before his father claims him. and he already knows there are unclaimed kids.

'for me it was pretty clear. I've always loved plants. I've got an impressive garden back at home.' you say. 'demeter claimed me my second day at camp.'

'so pretty fast...'

'for some kids it's fast. for some it's slow. some kids are very certain about who their godly parent is and sometimes they're right and sometimes they're not. you can't predict it with 100% accuracy.'

'did someone guess it correctly?'

'most of the times it's the athena kids who are right about their hunches. but they're athena kids of course, very smart. also a lot of ares kids are right. and for others it's a 50/50 chance. for instance, milo. everyone was convinced he was a hephaestus kid because he really liked to blow stuff up. turns out he's an athena kid. he's just really smart about blowing stuff up.'

'I bet I'm a kid of the god or failure or something. I'm just a regular kid, I'm not special. I don't have any impressive powers. not like you.'

'you think my powers are impressive?' you chuckle. 'I'm good with plants percy. over the years I've learned how to master those. but at first all I did was accidentally make flower patches.'

percy looks at you, frowning. 'you what?'

you laugh, then point to your shoes. they look like you've worn them every day for the past five years. which you have, somehow they won't wear down.

'these were a gift from my mom. if I don't wear them, flowers grow where I walk.'

'really?'

you nod and take them off. you get up and walk a circle around percy. and indeed, flowers grow where you put your feet down on the grass. you pick one and give it to percy, then put your shoes back on.

'it's the only thing I still can't master. maybe it's not something to be mastered. I'd ask my mom but the only time I saw her was when I was out fighting for my life. wasn't really the time to ask about flowers. she didn't even give me my shoes in person, just sent them here.'

you and percy are silent as you look out over the valley. you remember your first days at camp, how scared you were. you didn't know anyone, you were told your mom was a goddess, and you could never have a moment alone because there would always be someone who could find you based on the flowers you left behind.

'everyone here has been through what you're going through now.' you say. 'maybe they didn't experience it in the same way. I mean, you did kill the minotaur. but all of them have been confused, wondered about wether they belong, if there's something wrong with them. we all found our way in the end.'

'did you feel like you didn't belong?'

'sure. but then chiron explained to me it's all because of the gods. we've got dyslexia because our brain is wired in greek. the adhd is from our need to fight. it's all in our dna. just give it time, you'll belong. any other questions?'

'what do you do when you're not at camp?'

you smile. 'try not to run into any monsters and wait for the time to go to camp again. you'll find your family here, percy, trust me. now let's see if the aphrodite can teach you anything.'

you get up and offer your hand to percy. after pulling him to his feet, you start to walk toward the aphrodite cabin.

'you know, regardless of what cabin you belong to, you can always come to me if you have any questions.' you say.

percy smiles at you. 'thanks.'

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[takenbypeter]

Hi! I LOVED your Wonka x reader fic! Could I maybe request something?? Maybe one where she's the last one stuck in the laundry after everyone else gets rescued and he needs to go back for her? I love angst and fluff haha

All good if not! Love you

Trapped In Your Own Thoughts

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 961

I am loving all the Wonka love I'm seeing, every time I write for a new character I wonder if anyone will actually request for them so seeing people request for Willy Wonka truly makes me heart melt

Abacus, Piper, Larry Chucklesworth, Lottie Bell, Noodle and you stood in a straight line across from Mrs.Scrubbit as she peered from behind the counter. 

What you thought was going to be a tiresome scolding from the woman turned into something unexpected as she laid pounds of money out on the table. She first stated how Mr.Wonka had settled a deal with Mr.Slugworth covering all your bills. And one by one she went down the line addressing every individual until it was just you and Noodle left. 

“It’s funny,” Scrubbit says as she stares at the last pile in front of her before glaring directly at you, “Mr.Slugworth didn’t seem to leave a single sovereign for you. Guess you're not important eh?”

You stilled, unable to believe your own ears as Scrubbit smirked at your disheartened reaction. “…this must be some sort of mistake,” you muttered before getting cut off. 

“—No mistake at all,” she grinned a toothy grin, “in fact your name didn’t come up at all. So don’t just stand there. Back to work with you,” she ushers and stunned you look around trying to wake yourself from this nightmare that you found yourself trapped in. 

“Go.”

With a wave of her hand, you walked past them shutting the door behind you. “Now, for our dearest Noodle…” you heard her voice fade away as you walked to the laundry room in a daze.

You could not believe this was happening. Of course this would happen to you. You shook your head unable to stop the thoughts from swirling as you walked down the hallway past all the now empty rooms, past your own room until you came to the laundry doors. 

Climbing down the steps and looking around at the now lifeless room, it was impossible for you to do anything but dwell on the whole situation. 

You were stuck here. Alone. 

Being here with a group was one thing but alone? That was something you wouldn’t ever wish upon your greatest enemy, (that is if you had one). 

This had to be an error. Why would everyone else be free except for you? It didn’t make any sense. 

Then your mind slipped back to what Mrs.Scrubbit said about Willy making the deal. 

Did he know you were to stay back? No he couldn’t have. Right? Right. You tried to assure yourself before you even had the chance to doubt him any further. That man was too good and too precious for him to accept this deal knowing you’d continue to be held captive like this.

You went back and forth, replaying Mrs.Scrubbit’s words, trying to figure out what could’ve happened. 

Was Mrs.Scrubbit right? Were you just unimportant?

Your mind goes back to those few late evening conversations that you’ve shared with Willy. It was kind of silly for you to think anything from that. It was foolish in general for you to think so much of the young man, especially when you’ve only known him for a short period. But you couldn’t help but feel hurt. 

Was it that easy to forget you and move on?

Maybe all those experiences just meant something to you.

You could only grind your teeth as you dove deeper and deeper into your self deprecating thoughts. It was difficult to pull yourself out when there was nothing else or knowone else to distract you.

Your thoughts silenced as a screaming pile of bedsheets fell down the chute landing with a hard thud.

The fabric shifted and you spotted familiar brown curls pop out followed by Willy’s head. “I can’t wait for that to be over,” you heard him say as he grunted while climbing out from the chute.

“Willy…” you let out, more surprised than anything to see him. 

“Come with me, we’re getting you out of here,” he declared, running up to you without wasting a beat, “we already gathered everyone else, so let’s go.”

He runs back to the chute, waving for you to come over and you do so. Willy prepares an empty cloth bag as well as some laundry so you have a gentler landing and he then pats the empty spot. 

You prop yourself up occupying the chute and with your legs bent you hug them close as he scrambles to tug the bag up over your legs.

Thinking about it now, your wandering beliefs were all so idiotic, but for some reason in that moment, you couldn’t stop them from slipping past your lips.

“I thought you were going to leave me behind,” you chuckled. 

You meant for it to sound as just a childish passing statement but Willy immediately paused his movements, his arms coming to rest on both sides of the chute around your legs. 

“I’d never leave you behind,” he voiced.

It was impossible to stop a tiny shy smile from spreading onto your lips, “yeah, I know but, I don’t know it was just a passing thought.”

“Hey,” he lowered himself to meet you at eye level as you sat, “I would never leave you behind,” he repeated his statement from earlier, his tone soft and delicate yet firm.

It was a simple phrase, but coming from him it meant something to you. 

A new concern popped into your head, “wait, what about the contract?” You questioned, suddenly worried about the consequences that would follow. 

Willy replied with a smile that told you he already had an answer ready, “don’t worry about that, we have a plan.”

You nodded, allowing yourself to trust the boy before he wrapped your head tying a simple knot.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” he said, giving your leg an affectionate pat before sending you on your way out.

[blossomthepinkbunny]

I wanna talk about the pride artwork for HB, because like a lot of other people I have some thoughts.

Firstly, positives:

It overall looks pretty good imo. The colours are bright and the picture has nice energy. I don't mind the HB/HH artstyle in general, it's mostly the designs that are the problem (the designs in HB are better than in HH). It is very cluttered, but I sorta learned to deal with that and I don't mind as much here.

Millie being there for Moxxie is cute and she looks amazing.

The outfits for some of the characters look good.

Sallie May being a Lesbian is nice (idk why, it just is).

Verosika looks great and very pretty (as always).

I like the idea of Loona taking Octavia to her first Pride parade. I like the idea of them hanging out in general and I want to see more of that.

Beelzebub looks cute.

I like the face Barbie makes (idk either).

Now onto the things I don't like:

Some of these sexualities seem kinda like they were just made up on the spot. Loona being Bisexual is nice, but she literally only ever showed interest in guys and there was never anything that could lead us to assume that she's Bi. The same thing goes for Mammon or Andrealphus. For Andrealphus it seems like they just made him gay to excuse the weird comments he makes about his Sister and especially since a lot of people started using their weird relationship to imply that Stella has some problems as well and isn't just a heartless bitch. Now they can basically just say: "Andrealphus isn't weird towards Stella, he is literally gay, why would he harrass her". I don't mind as much with characters like Bee or Barbie, because they only showed up once and it would've been pretty difficult to confirm their sexualities.

A lot of people mentioned Mammon being Ace just seems like an excuse to not put him in sexual merchandise or something. He is the only fat character in HB (who is actually relevant) and he is one of the two ace characters. It feels sorta disingenuous when the only two ace characters are a teen and the single fat character you have. Especially since, if I remember correctly there were a lot of people (including me) who found Mammon attractive and were looking forward to more sex-positivity for plus sized folks, especially when in Vivzepops shows theres only him and Mimzy (Adam as well maybe).

Why do a lot of the pansexual demons in this show feel stereotypical. Bee and Asmodeus are fine, the background demons as well I guess. Blitzø is super horny all the time and could fill a whole party just with people he slept with. Verosika and her followers are succubi who we saw sexually assault Moxxie. Barbie Wire manipulated a teenage/barely legal human to do what she wants by using her body. And Chaz is a literal and very open sexual harrasser/abuser. The only joke he has are making unwanted sexual remarks toward Moxxie and being horny. He has a sign that says: "I will fuck anything", which isn't what pansexuality is and the wording makes it really weird ("anything" not "anybody"). And he looks at Andrealphus weirdly. Him and Blitzø are also naked for no reason.

I would've loved to see some nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer characters. We don't have one confirmed genderqueer character. How about nonbinary Octavia or Vasago. Or genderfluid Moxxie. Or bigender Barbie or something. I just wished we had anything like that. Also a personal headcannon of mine, but Asmodeus should probably be Polyamorous. He is the incarnation of Lust and with how they wrote him in the show it's kinda hard to believe/doesn't make sense that he is in a monogamous relationship.

Where are Mayberry and Martha? They were confirmed to be sapphic and so far they're the only sapphic characters in an actually sapphic relationship we see in HB. Why does Wally get to be there but they aren't? Why is Vasago there instead of them, when he hasn't even showed up in an episode yet? Why is Vasago there in general? It's not like i'm gonna be happy with him being confirmed to be gay because there is nothing we know about him yet.

Why is Tex not there? Did they just forget him? He might be straight but he could still be there to support his girlfriend and isn't he literally Verosikas bodyguard. He was at the weird Blitzø hate party with her, but not here?

Isn't Chaz dead?

Why would Asmodeus and Fizz go to the same parade as Mammon, when the only episode with Mammon so far has dealt with how much he hurts Fizz.

You might say: "This isn't supposed to make sense, it's just a more interesting way to confirm characters' sexuality for pride month, so it doesn't have to make canon/logical sense". Which I would agree with, if they didn't excuse Stella and Striker (two pretty important characters) not being there by saying something along the lines of: "Do you really think they would attend a pride parade?". Maybe not, but I also don't think Chaz would attend a parade, being dead and all. I also don't think that Barbie would go out of her way to go to hell, just to attend a pride parade, especially since her brother is there too. I also don't think Andrealphus would go out of his way to go to a parade filled with imps and people he doesn't like. I also don't think Mammon would be there because it's nothing that brings him money or something. Stella might be straight and that's the reason she isn't here. But her brother (who she seemingly likes and confines in) is there and she could go to support him and her being straight isn't even confirmed, so she could very well be queer. And isn't Striker queer as well? Im sorta confused with that, because they try to make him a bigot (probably also homophobic), but the scene he has with Blitzø in "Harvest moon festival" seems very queer. His offense at sexual remarks could also imply that he is a very sex-repulsed asexual or Demisexual or something. Unless of course they want to use the fact that he doesn't like sexual remark from men as a way to make him seem homophobic (even though him reacting bad to unwanted sexual remarks doesn't mean he's bigoted, like that's well within his rights to be uncomfortable). It's not as if Viv shows restraint with making villians/antagonists queer in general. Mammon, Chaz, Andrealphus are all antagonists in HB and are also there. In HH they literally went out of their way to confirm Vox being in a relationship with Valentino, a rapist. It seems like being Straight/Bigoted/too much of an asshole to show up only applies to the characters who actively dislike Stolas and to the only main female antagonist.

[ferretrix]

hey, long time admirer of your stuff! ive just been wondering, though, how exactly do you do your eyes? like.. obviously they're different from character to character, but how do you usually form them and whatnot?

thank you ! - 💥

heya thank you :) it's been a while since i answered one of these in depth but for you good anon i will try my best..... Here's the simple answer:

Here is some more thought-process/behind the scenes stuff:

Obviously head angle determines many things about drawing eyes; I've been trying harder to keep it in mind when I'm putting lines down, and it'll generally make them look more grounded/offer better depth. The main takeaway from head angle is how are the eye sockets oriented. Doing drawovers of photographs is a cheap+easy way to get a feel for this, but I wouldn't worry about 100% anatomical accuracy; what I'm trying to get a feel for is the placement of eyes versus the brow/nose bridges.

The amount of detail I put into eyes is wildly inconsistent haha it rly depends on the piece and art style, but the (for lack of a better word) "definition lines" and spots of black in deep shadow make up most of the detailed stuff. I'm still not great at drawing massively distinctive eye shapes but I try to maintain a general sense of one for different faces (ex. Rectangular, narrow, round, angled up or down). I'll also be the first to admit it takes a lot of conscious thought to reproduce the same line variation/angles in someone's eyes each time you draw them, but if you're looking for advice on consistency those are examples of traits I'd keep in mind.

That's it for the most part.... I don't think the way I draw eyes is particularly unique lol so here are a few things that have gotten me where I am:

other people's art, a lot of which is manga. when I say naruto taught me to draw im only half joking hwheeze. my art tastes lean towards manga/comic stylization so none of this is hugely realistic overall....

that being said, I do like the more realistic side of manga/comic art so photo studies/anatomy tips have still been useful to me

this tutorial by sinix is one of my favorite things ever, because it explicitly discusses both anatomical knowledge AND how to translate that into shorthand

thanks for the ask!

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Have you heard of the term "patterns mills"? These are shopfronts that quickly produce a pattern without any sort of testing or vetting, and then put it on the market with an AI-generated or stolen image for a very tempting price. Patterns produced this way are rampant in the cross-stitching world. However, I've recently noticed an uptick in these types of storefronts in the quilting and foundation paper piecing world. Since I'm well versed in FPP patterns, I would like to describe what an AI-generated quilt pattern looks like as well as provide other suspicious giveaways. AI will only get better, so while these mistakes are dead giveaways now, they might be fixed in the future. FPP patterns seem to be easier to replicate in AI than traditionally pieced patterns, which is why I will focus on FPP in this blogpost. However, you can apply the same clues to any sort of craft pattern (or really anything) you can buy online. Important: AI-generated images are not prohibited on Etsy. However, within their policies they state that you must disclose if you used AI within your listing, and these shops do not have that disclosure.

Below is a listing for a wolf face FPP pattern. When you first look at it, does anything seem suspicious?

First, I would like to draw your attention to the scissors in the bottom left of the photo. These scissors are physically impossible to use and are literally melting into the yellow cutting mat. The lines of this cutting mat are unresolved, as are the lines on the green cutting mat in the bottom right corner. These are your first giveaways. However, not all images have background sewing items that look a little funny. Let's take a look at the actual "completed quilt."

The first thing I notice is that the only background seam line (from this apparently foundation paper pieced quilt) is the one in the top left corner. The seam is merely hinted at and does not go all the way to the edge. Additionally, I notice that the eye is too round. One could argue that the cover photo is merely an enhanced version of the completed quilt, but there are no completed quilt photos in the listing. Another clue for identifying AI generated quilt images is that there are a ton of colors/prints used. The prints in this image seem nebulous and the prints around the eye whiskers (?) lose a lot of fidelity. The individual fabrics themselves do not have consistency.

In the image above, the things I notice are that there are curved seams within the gray and white colors. A typical FPP pattern would not have curved piecing interspersed between regular straight seam piecing. Also, piecing lines that are useless, especially visible in the bluish-gray piece on the left. The amount of piecing within that patch does not make sense. Below you will see another listing from a different Etsy seller.

From afar, it looks really good. Plus, the seller has great reviews! And it's a Bestseller! But let us take a closer look…

The first thing that sticks out to me is how the whiskers of the lion are resolved. You can see where they fade into the muzzle of the lion without a realistic piecing line. Some of the patches are straight up "smeary" and wrinkly, a telltale sign of AI. The program does not know how to accurately render the design so it creates an approximation. These are things that are hard to see unless you zoom in. Below is a listing for a legitimate lion FPP pattern from designer Pride and Joy Quilting so you can see the difference. It is clear that the first image is an actual completed quilt top.

Beyond the AI-generated cover quilts, I'd also like to cover other signs of a pattern generated from a pattern mill.

For the lion pattern, the cost is only $8.63. This is very cheap for what is supposed to be a full sized quilt pattern with a multitude of templates.

Both of these sellers have very generic names. While not an immediate cause for concern, I recommend being skeptical.

There are no actual completed quilt images within the listing.

Both of them are considered "Bestsellers" on Etsy, but the shop with the wolf pattern only has 10 reviews. It makes me wonder about the disparity between "buyers" and reviewers.

The 5 star reviews for the lion pattern are extremely generic and talk only about "how much their friend Lisa will enjoy the pattern" or "how easy it was to download." These are not helpful for understanding the quality of the actual product. The 1 star reviews are way more descriptive about the issues the pattern has. This makes me wonder about fake reviews.

Both of these patterns include a full layout of the FPP diagram within the listing. I personally would never do this and I don't know many designers who would.

The lion pattern says this within its description: "Before making a purchase, we'd like to inform you about some important aspects. The product stands out for its template, design, and print quality, serving as a valuable tool for sewing projects. The instructions include two techniques: direct fabric marking (with visible stitches) and invisible stitches. Both are general guidelines and not step-by-step instructions. You can choose these techniques or any other that you consider suitable based on your experience and preference. There are no refunds for the digital file. We appreciate your understanding and are available for any questions." This demonstrates to me that the pictures are not accurate because they are clearly attempting to depict FPP and are hoping that you won't read the description until it is too late.

Why is every lowercase i in the wolf pattern missing its dot? Like, why? I find that strange and off putting.

So, how do you avoid accidentally purchasing a pattern like this?

The first step is gaining experience in recognizing listings that seem a bit fishy. Use the bullet points listed above to see what kind of feeling you get when looking over a listing. I also recommend finding out more about the designer from their website or from their social media. Not all legitimate designers have these necessarily, but it's a great place to start. Try messaging the shop owner on Etsy. Does it sound like they know what they are even talking about? You'll then build a good list of designers and shops you trust. A big and worrisome thing to remember is that AI will only get better and produce better looking images. This will make it harder to identify pattern mills by the image alone. However, the clues that I've listed will help if you put them all together and come to a conclusion. I suggest using them for all your online shopping. I hope this helps!

[salemoleander]

BigB brings a pickaxe down against the soft limestone. It's not dirt, or loam, or even sand, but it makes him think of a burrow. Something safe to hide in.

He knows he's acting strangely, knows the others didn't all beeline to complete their tasks. But the second he opened that letter anxiety wound up his spine, like seaweed ready to pull him under. So, y'know. Might as well deal with it now? He keeps digging.

Digging and saying hi to Scar and being mean to Scar so he leaves and digging and digging. The prickling fear under his skin only abates once he's well underground, in the coolness. Not 'all the way down' yet, but the tension in chest eases.

Finally, some measure of peace. BigB supposes the 'and quiet' has been there the whole time, and he laughs quietly at his own joke. Leans against the wall at the bottom of the pit to rest. He's tired and achy and a tiny bit mad. Of course his task would make him miss out on the chance for allies. Well, maybe if he keeps–

A ghostly hand swats past his head, nails sharp and flesh see-through.

BigB whips to the side, looks around, again, again, and sees nothing. Just faint dust motes and occasional grains of sand falling from above.

It's not even cold? Or whatever ghosts are supposed to make happen, he's not sure.

Sighing, BigB says, "If you're here to kill me, can you at least make it entertaining, man? This task sucks."

His voice bounces and echoes strangely off the stone around him. Nothing responds.

He gives a forced laugh, lowers his head, and keeps digging.

His peace is interrupted not too many minutes later, after he's clambered back to the top to gather more wood for picks. BigB hears footsteps, and then Grian slides the last few blocks down an incline of sand into the cave.

Grian grins at him. BigB smiles back, slow and easy. Last game they'd ended allies, and that has helped a lot to loosen tensions. Still not interested in a day 1 alliance, though. Doubt submerged in friendliness, he greets Grian and asks what he's up to.

"Just bouncing around! Day 1, you know how it is." Grian seems energized, a bit furtive– normal Grian stuff. He looks past BigB, and an indent appears between his eyebrows. "Uh, what's with the hole, B?"

He has a defensive answer lined up, something circuitous and confusing about Jimmy and broken mineshaft generation and new stripmining techniques. Can't let anyone know your secret, after all; even if Grian's sly smile indicates he's probably just going to joke a bit and let it go.

Instead, BigB opens his mouth, and the words that crawl out are, "I don't know, G, where do the tasks come from?"

It's not a question that makes sense, not really. The tasks don't have to come from anywhere! BigB may just be overthinking it, or underthinking it, or something. And he shouldn't have even said that, because it might be giving away his task. Why did he say that?

There's a fire behind the words, anger that scrapes and burns on its way out. He's not sure why that's there either.

Color high on his cheeks, Grian says, "I'm not sure, er– not sure, yeah."

BigB knows he's lying. To be fair, he thinks most people could tell Grian was lying– he's not very good at doing it on the spot.

The smells of acrid smoke and dirt and sea-salt are there and then gone. His hand tremors; he tucks it through a belt loop.

Tasks don't have to come from anywhere, except these aren't just tasks: they're secrets. This game would be called Task Life, or Goal Life, or something, if that was the important thing. He knows how careful Grian is with his words (words like safe and soulmate and mine, all used to very particular definitions).

BigB is familiar with what being one of Grian's secrets feels like. The letter in his pocket feels like a friend. He decides not to ask any more questions, because he's not sure what will come out.

"Okay, just gonna cook some fish, and then I'll be out of your hair." Grian steps past him and hunkers down in front of the furnace. BigB feels a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. He looks away.

When he looks back, he startles. Scar is right next to Grian, looming by his side.

Except this isn't Scar as he'd seen him earlier, standing around in a circle. BigB locks eyes with this other Scar, his eyes beady-bright crimson and set into a face wrapped in bandages. His hooded cloak is purple and embroidered, threads hanging ragged at the edges. The fabric around his neck is dark.

Slowly, movements jerky, Scar holds up a single bony finger in front of his mouth.

BigB's eyes flick down to Grian's back- does he not notice, in his periphery? Is he just ignoring this? Should he say something?

When he looks back up, the spectre is gone.

Standing in uncharacteristic silence, he awkwardly waits for Grian to collect the rest of his fish. Grian, happy to cause problems on purpose but allergic to tension he isn't the cause of, quickly folds and grabs the remaining fish with an "I'll get out of your hair, then."

They shuffle together to the entrance of the cave; he really needs to get some doors going in here.

Grian turns and fixes a stare just to his side, for a moment. BigB ignores it, and finally manages to shoo Grian off. He doesn't want to know who's haunting him.

Sighing, he shifts a pick into his hand and gets back to work. BigB finishes the task quickly after that, because when he pays attention the fear guides him. This task isn't about digging deep - it's about being hunted, about burrowing, tunneling.

He finishes it and turns in the quest book, receives his rewards. Resolutely, he does not look at the spectres trailing after his friends. It's fine if he just doesn't look, right? Yeah.

The rest of the session passes in a blur. At the end, trying to hang back and keep his eyes on the middle of the statue rather than any ghosts that may or may not exist, he hears Grian share his task.

Jokes no one would laugh at. Of course.

He idly considers a task based on his experiences in the last series. Something furtive and spy-based would be fun. Maybe something frog themed?

He does not think about what secrets his lives in the other games would want to share. Those seem like a late-game thing, anyways.

[direquail]

My specific read on John is not that he's a nice guy, either. It's that, like any good character (specifically a tragic character, which, TM has said that he is modeled on a mythical tragic hero, so) he has a flaw that dooms him. And what that means is, when he has the choice to change what he's doing, that flaw either prevents him from taking the option he's aware of, or prevents him from being aware that there is another option altogether.

And so as a writer, what I look for are moments where either:

something good about a character becomes an excess that harms themselves or others

we receive information that shows a persistent blind spot a character has

we look for times when a character gives their view of the world/a situation and it Does Not Match Up with reality, or is hinted that it doesn't

we look for evidence of something simmering under the surface that clashes with their outward, agreeable presentation

What fills that role for John?

Yep.

When this first pops up, it's pretty easily dismissed as yet another layer on the falsehood he's propped up. Admittedly, he's been doing it for ten thousand years, so it's probably got a few layers to it.

However:

This one, to me, gives us a hint about what John is blind to: That his friends see his vindictiveness and his failings and that they could still love him. This is where it crosses into tragedy, for me; where his own inability to forgive blinds him to the capacity that other people have for generosity--and so, to a world where "justice" means more than "vengeance for the dead".

And this illuminates the whole chain of events that leads him to that climactic scene in Harrow the Ninth, telling Mercy that she never would have forgiven him anyways:

John is, at heart, deeply angry--like most characters in the series, and like a lot of people who grew up in poverty, especially if they managed to escape it. He also has some deep sense of justice, and deep sense of judgment.

So we have this cycle of related emotions and ideas: Justice, judgment, outrage. And a human measure of selfishness, amorality, double standards, etc.

In one situation, this allows him to throw himself completely into the cryo project, something that (if it hadn't been sabotaged politically) could have made a difference to humanity. He brings in people who work to make it even better, who demonstrably want to make the outcome as just and humane as possible. It's also implied that this is part of why he received those powers; "I chose you to change."

(And, I'll be honest, one of the other things that I see that chafes me is the implication that there was nothing about John to recommend him to the Earth. I'm actually of the opinion that there was; she chose him, and I don't think she just rolled a d100 or drew a card off a tarot deck and called him up. John is also still a human, flawed person.)

Then, the situation changes. It's no longer an issue of dedicating expertise to solve a problem; this is a political issue, and specifically of rich people using their resources to shift outcomes towards the one they think will benefit them the most, that will secure their survival, explicitly at the expense of everyone else.

And their strategy is, profoundly: short-sighted and unnecessary (pooling resources would help create a better outcome for everyone, including the rich, by reducing global trauma and preserving more of the systems that already structure their world); bigoted and uninformed (many rich people think that the world has to be a certain way, generally that the world is violent, competitive, dog-eat-dog, etc., and someone has to be "on top", and there will always have to be a loser, or lots of losers); and utterly cruel, unjust, and pointless.

And John--John, who grew up poor, who grew up aware of the despair around him and the injustice of his position and more than likely made use of that anger to achieve what he had up to this point--John is so angry.

Because they're all the same. They're all the same. It's the same song, over and over again, no matter how stupid and pointless and unnecessary. He is certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it doesn't have to be this way. He passes judgment.

But John is losing to them, because he doesn't have the resources they do. He can hate them and fight them all he wants, and it doesn't matter, because he's nowhere near in the same league as they are politically.

And then, after the cryo project is cancelled, he gains his powers.

The thing about anger and judgment is that the deeper it runs, often, the more invested the person who holds that anger in themselves is in not seeing what they hate in themselves. E.g: John has conceptualized the people he's resisting as fundamentally unjust, cruel, amoral, and bigoted. There's a very good chance--to different degrees, depending on the person--that becoming aware of similar traits in himself might wake up those feelings he has towards those other people--aimed at himself (that is, cognitive dissonance). He can't see the things he's passed judgment on in himself and function. He's not like them; he's trying to fix things, to bring about justice.

Of course, there's justice as in "living in a just society", and justice as in "justice for the dead". But that's a later realization, because right now, everyone is still alive.

So John hides those parts of himself; from himself, from other people. So thoroughly he can exclude it from his consciousness and pretend it doesn't exist. He thinks no one sees the real depth of his own rage, his own cutthroat pursuit of a solution. And then, when he can't pretend it doesn't exist, he can still pretend to be the man he thinks they need him to be. He can "fool" them. He can say--he's trying. He screwed up. He doesn't know what he's doing.

And then, Casseiopeia says, No, actually, we know you, and we know you're horribly vindictive. And we're on your side--we're on the same side--our fight is your fight--and we love you. But your drive for revenge is seriously limiting your ability to imagine and create a living, just world, and that's what we're fighting for. Remember? That's what we set out to create.

And John's brain can't quite handle this; he can't imagine that they could actually see him and still be on his side. Because he couldn't see that and still be on his side. He can't forgive; he can't imagine forgiveness.

He can't see the things he's passed judgment on in himself and function.

And, by this stage, in some ways, it's already too late to change course. But this is one of several "come to Jesus" (no pun intended) moments where John could become aware of alternatives, or could change his behavior--and doesn't.

And I think this is where we get that self-awareness from, the thing that makes him creepy and tragic but also infuriating: He is aware, but apparently that's not enough to stop him from being his worst self--so is he just pretending to be moral? Capable of making different choices but choosing not to? And the weird statements he makes later:

This is, imo, not a power-hungry dictator who genuinely doesn't care about the cost of his throne, or a gleefully predatory abuser. This is a dude who's committed to a course of action and doesn't feel great about it. This is a guy who has violated his own sense of justice and has to live with it.

This is a guy who set out to save the world, killed it, and now the only thing that's left to him is to avenge it.

And like, from a mythology standpoint, that is exactly what the Erinyes are, like the Furies and Alecto. They are not the justice of Apollo or Athena. They are screaming for blood. They are hunting their quarry to the ends of the universe. They are chthonic.

Again: This isn't what Cassieopeia or Christabel said to him. This is what John has said to himself. This came from him. This is a reflection of what he believes.

And it encapsulates, exactly, why he erased their memories. Why he took away their agency.

The difference between him and many, many people is he had the power of a god and no one to check him when he was struggling with his own worst impulses. And then, he created a world where no one could, not just because then he could do what he wanted and pretend to be kind and loving and moral, but so that he would never have to lose the love of the people he needed.

Because, unfortunately, he still needed them.

It just took ten thousand years for the lie to unravel.

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, I'm the whole damn meal

I have no explanation other than I need to find myself a dbf!Joel of my own because this man is magic. Welcome to part 6 with our friendly neighbourhood DILF. Enjoy.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary | Joel saves your ass by giving you a ride to work, and then promises you a night you won't forget.

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | As ever, blanket warning for dbf!Joel being a general menace. Age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), flirting, light sexting, edging/orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, protected PiV sex, aftercare.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Texas Sun Playlist

You’re late. Not exactly the first impression you were hoping to make on the start of your second week at work. It was sweltering outside, which meant you’d opted for a shorter and thinner dress to begin with, then thrown it off and gone for something more work-appropriate when you remembered the archives were basically like a freezer from the air-conditioning. You said a silent prayer to your beat-up car that it’s feeling generous with you on the drive into the city and will let the aircon work, so you don’t turn up looking like you’d run five miles. 

You grab your keys and your bag and bound out of the door, straight into the back of your dad, who is stood on the porch talking to Joel. 

“Woah, careful there, kiddo,” Your dad murmurs, catching you before you can fall back on your ass, “In a rush?” 

“If I don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’ll be late for work,” You explain, steadying yourself on your feet, “Oh, morning Joel.” You shoot over your dad’s shoulder, as if you hadn’t spotted him the second you opened the door. 

“Morning,” He shoots back, giving his signature smile to you, which causes a blush to flush across your cheeks, “You have a good day now.” 

“You too!” You call over your shoulder, unlocking your car and throwing your back in the back seat. 

You settle into the driver’s side and turn your key and groan, because of course the engine is spluttering and refusing to actually switch on. It’s like it can sense you’re in a rush, the one morning you really need it to cooperate with you, it decides it’s had enough. 

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” You mumble, letting your forehead hit the top of the steering wheel, “I ask one thing and you can’t even do that.” 

A light tapping on the driver’s window makes you jump, but it’s just Joel. You open the door slightly, “You need a ride?” 

“I don’t want you to go out of your way for me,” You mumble, “But yeah, I need a ride.” 

“I’m headin’ into town for some supplies so it’s no trouble at all, sugar,” He speaks quietly so your dad doesn’t catch the new nickname Joel’s got for you, “You hop into my truck, and we’ll get goin’ as soon as I’ve said goodbye to your old man.” 

You’re listening to their conversation as you reach for your bag and heat to the passenger side of Joel’s truck. 

“You make sure you bring the little lady over when she’s back,” Your dad is saying, “I’ll make sure to get the grill going.” 

“I will,” Joel promises, reaching out his hand for your dad to shake it, “I’ll catch you later, old man.” 

Your dad chuckles, “Make sure she pays you for gas, Joel!” He exclaims once Joel has turned around to make his way to his truck, “It’s her own fault for not buying a new car sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” He shoots a look at you through his open driver’s side window, “I’ll make sure she pays for her ride.” 

You’re stunned into silence for a while as he sits down behind the wheel and makes to pull out of your dad’s driveway. He looks over at you and shrugs with a laugh, “You okay, darlin’?” 

“Are you for real?” You scoff, “You’re a subtle as a brick sometimes, Joel Miller.” 

“I didn’t say anythin’ that wasn’t true.” 

It’s too early in the morning for this, you decide, “What were you doing over here anyway?” 

“Your dad wanted to borrow some tools for somethin’,” He answers, pulling out of your street and onto the main road, “Brought ‘em over before I went to work.” 

You nod in understanding, “And Sarah, she’s back soon, right?” 

He hums in the affirmative, letting his palm rest on your knee, “Back tomorrow evenin’, means it might be harder to see you.” 

You take hold of his hand at your knee, “We always knew that Joel,” You turn and smile at him, “We’ll make it work.” 

It. Whatever it was, you were determined to make it work. In the space of a few weeks, he’d well and truly wormed his way under your skin and settled there, refusing to leave even if you’d wanted him to. Too caught up in how he fucked you and not wanting to cause him to run off into the sunset with your conversations of commitment, you’d skirted round asking what it was that you two were doing exactly. If it meant you could keep him by your side and buried deep inside you, you’d carry on avoiding the conversation too. 

“How about you come to mine after work?” He suggests, “I don’t know, tell ya’ dad you’re going out, I’ll pick you up and I can make the most of you while I still can?” 

You think for a second about how you’ll get that one past your dad. You’d been home straight after work every night last night, staying up only long enough to eat your dinner, before collapsing into bed. And it was a Monday night, who the hell goes out on a Monday night after work? But if this was the last time you were going to get Joel, in his house alone, you were damn sure you were going to do it. 

“Alright,” You agree, giving his hand a squeeze, “Pick me up at six?” 

“I’ll be ready and waiting, sugar.” 

*

“I promise I’ll be sensible dad,” You sigh, shoveling another forkful of salad into your mouth, “It’s just a few drinks, we won’t be that late.” 

“Alright, well, if you need pickin’ up earlier, you just call, okay?” You know he only means well when he goes into protective mode, but you’re twenty-five years old and managed to live in New York City for years without any real incident, “And if your designated driver starts drinkin’ you call me.” 

You feel your phone vibrate against your ear, signaling a text, “I will dad,” You spear another bit of lettuce with your fork, “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.” 

“See you later, kiddo,” He speaks, “Love you.” 

“Love you too!” 

As soon as you hang up, you’re checking your messages. It’s Joel. He’s a man of few words when it comes to texting, only ever really using it to make plans with you to sneak around somewhere. 

Joel Miller. 

Can’t stop thinking about you. 

You smile at your desk, resting your chin in your palm as you read it over. 

Can’t stop thinking about you either. 

You put your phone back on your desk and finish your lunch. Not only is he a man of few words when it comes to texting, but it usually takes him a good ten minutes to reply. You’ve seen him texting Sarah to the point that it’s actually comical. 

Been thinking of bending you over my kitchen counter, what do you think? 

You almost splutter the mouthful of water you were drinking all over the computer screen in front of you. Was Joel Miller attempting to sext you at work? 

Dangerous thoughts for the middle of the day. But you know I like being bent over just for you. 

This time he does take a few minutes to respond. You like to think you’ve got him flustered on whatever jobsite he’s at today, shoving his phone back into his pocket and taking deep breaths so he can go back to work with a clear head. 

I know you do baby. Gonna fuck you so good later, be feeling me for days. 

That’s not much of a change Joel, I always feel you for days after. 

You grab your phone and the list of documents your manager had given you to pull for the afternoon and head down into the archive itself. You check your phone, thankful there’s enough signal for any more of his messages to come through to you. 

Might not get the chance again for a while, gotta make sure you’re remembering me for as long as possible. 

You scoff a little, as if you’d ever forget. 

Gonna be in for a long night then? 

You start pulling the documents on the list, getting three down before your phone is vibrating again. 

If you can walk outta my house, I’ve not done it properly. 

You can feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach, goosebumps peppering your skin at the thought of him doing just as he promised. Burying himself deep inside you, pounding his cock into from behind. You can already feel the delicious ache he usually leaves you with. 

I hope that’s a promise, Miller. Now stop distracting me and go back to work. 

His reply, for once, is almost instantaneous.

Yes ma’am. See you at six. 

The rest of the day is a blur. You’re too distracted by Joel’s promises that it takes you far longer than it should to finish pulling all the documents you needed. Then, when your mind wanders to visions of the last time he had you bent over a kitchen island, you have to double check where you’re distributing them to. You’re grateful when, at six o’clock, your colleague Hanna comes up behind you, your bag in her hand, to tell you it’s time to leave. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” She smiles. 

Hanna was close to your age, which was a welcome change to the mostly older women who worked in your team. She was Canadian, moving to Austin after her degree and you’d already become fast work friends. When you exit the building, Joel is stood against the hood of his truck, one ankle folded over the over, with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Who is that?” Hanna enquires when he waves at you. 

“That’s Joel,” You smile, not able to hide the pride that this man was yours, “He’s my…. Well, I actually don’t know what he is, but we fuck.” 

Hanna’s eyes dart between you and Joel, a smirk on her face, “Damn girl, get it.” 

You both break into fits of giggles before you give each other a hug, Hanna heading down to catch the bus to her apartment whilst you practically jog over to Joel’s truck. 

“What’s so funny?” He grumbles, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Oh nothing,” You tease, standing on your tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, “Just happy to see you.” 

You feel his hand trail down your back to grip the globe of your ass through your dress, “You talkin’ about me, pretty girl?” He growls into your ear. 

“Might have been,” You shrug, “Just showing you off, handsome.” 

“Get in the damn truck.” He says with a playful swat to your ass. 

“Yes sir.” You smirk, hopping up into your seat. 

The drive back to his house in thick with tension. He’s got his hand on your leg, much like he had this morning, but this time his fingers are gripping into the meat of your thigh. Whenever it’s safe, his eyes are trailing over your body, dark with wanting. He pulls up outside his house in no time, taking a few moments to look up the street to make sure no-one is going to notice you sneaking in through his front door. 

When the coast is clear, you grab your bag and follow him to the door. He unlocks it and pushes it open, letting you through first. 

“You hungry, Joel?” You call over your shoulder once you’ve thrown your bag next to his couch, “We could order something in?” 

You’re rooting through his fridge for something cold to drink and don’t hear a reply. Gripping the tops of two bottles of beer, you stand back up, “Hey, Joel, did you hear me?!” You yell as you’re closing the fridge door. 

“I heard ya.” He’s standing at the kitchen island, leant on his palms, with those deep, brown eyes trailing over your body. 

“So, are you hungry?” You ask again, flicking the tops off the bottles before placing one down in front of him. 

His eyes drag slowly down your body as he tips his bottle to his lips, “I could eat, yeah.” 

“What are you hungry for?” You question, “We could get pizza, or maybe a Chinese takeout?”

He shakes his head, “Not hungry for those.” He shrugs. 

“Well, what are you hungry for?” 

“You.”

Your eyes widen at his words, “I’m not even really a snack Joel.” 

He’s shifted his position to be leaning on his hip at the end of the island with his hand outstretched to you, “Sugar, you’re so wrong,” He breathes as you take hold of his hand, “You’re a whole damn meal.” 

He’s leading you to the table and gesturing for you to sit on it, “You want me to sit on there?” You ask with a snort, not sure that it’s going to hold your weight. 

“I said I was hungry for ya, didn’t I?” Joel asks with an eyebrow raised, you nod in agreement though, “Well then sit down and let me eat that perfect pussy.” 

He steadies you with wide palms on your hips as you settle your ass on the table. Of course, it holds your weight, because he built it. You remember Sarah gushing over how he’d made it a few years back. 

Joel drops to his knees after he’s pulled the chair away from the table, his hands dragging from your hips to the hem of your dress just above your knees. He’s pushing the fabric up your thighs devastatingly slowly, pressing hot kisses to each inch of new skin he uncovers. You’re leaning back with your palms braced on the wood behind you, soft gasps tumbling from your lips at each touch of his lips to your skin. 

Once he’s shucked as much of the material to bunch at your waist as he can, his hands are back on your hips, this time under your dress, keeping you in place as he drags the same slow trail of kisses back down your other thigh until he reaches your knee. He’s hooking both of your legs over his shoulders, shuffling into you a little more on his knees before you can feel hit hot breath fanning the material of your underwear which is practically sticking to your core from arousal. 

“You gonna be all wet for me, sugar?” He asks, “All that textin’ got you worked up for me?

“What don’t you find out for yourself?” You challenge, feeling your legs shake on his shoulders from the slight chuckle he lets out. 

“Would rather you tell me,” He murmurs, planting a kiss on the skin of your groin, right where the seam of your underwear begins, “Tell me how hot I made ya?” 

“So fucking hot, Joel,” You whimper as he presses a similar kiss to the other side of your underwear, “Couldn’t think straight.” 

He’s gently running his thumb along the seam of your pussy through the cotton covering your core. It’s so featherlight that if you weren’t burning from every nerve ending, you’d probably have missed it, but it’s there, and it has you bucking your hips and begging for more friction. 

“So, if I peeled these off, you’d be soaked for me, right sugar?” 

You gather what sanity is left in your brain, reaching down between your thighs to take his chin in your hand, tilting his face to meet yours, “Why don’t you fuck around and find out, Joel Miller?” 

With his eyes on yours you swear you see something snap behind his brown orbs. His hands are practically ripping the material off your body. They’re thrown over his shoulder and forgotten, just like his need to incessantly tease you when the flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe along the now naked seam of your pussy. A soft sigh leaves your lips as his tongue mimics the movement once more, this time, the tip of his tongue dipping just below your folds to graze your clit, ever so gently. 

You’re widening your thighs, baring your naked cunt to his face. He’s got his hands splayed back on your hips to keep you still, his tongue once against licking a familiar stripe, this time through your folds, stopping to flick the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue yet again, but this time with more purpose than before, more purpose that to just tease you. This man between your thighs wants to devour you. 

Joel’s hands are spreading your pussy wide, baring your entire core to his mouth as his tongue moves from the precise movements over your clit, down to the weeping entrance. His tongue swirls and gathers the slick that has gathered there. 

“God, you taste so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” He groans into your core, taking his time to swipe his tongue through the wetness again, “Best damn meal I ever had.” 

“Joel, please,” You beg, letting your fingers run through the dark strands of his hair, “It’s not enough.” 

You can feel his mouth grin into the skin of your pussy, he licks a stripe back up to your clit before focusing on your clit, making short and fast flicks to the bud with the tip of his tongue. Your grind your hips into his face, hands gripping at the back of his head to keep him in place because this is exactly what you needed. The movement of his tongue is precise, switching from short flicks in and up and down motion, to tight circles. It’s enough to have you teetering on the edge but still not enough. You’re shifting your ass to the edge of the table, hoping that bringing his tongue closer to you will help, but it doesn’t.

“Fingers, Joel,” You demand, groaning in frustration when his movements stop altogether, “Please baby, I need it so bad.” 

“All you had to do was ask nicely.” He says, pulling back just enough to give him room to speak before you feel two of his thick fingers pushing inside of you. 

He curls them up into your pussy almost immediately, whilst his lips wrap around your clit. The pressure of him sucking on your clit, teamed with his still precise flicks, and the thrusting of his fingers inside you have you hurtling towards the cliff face of your orgasm in record time. You’re so close you can almost reach out a hand and grab it to pull yourself over the edge. Joel knows it, can feel your pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers, and the son of a bitch pulls his fingers and mouth from you just before you can come. 

“No!” You exclaimed, looking down at him with wide eyes full of frustration, you’re pulling at his hair to try and get him to put himself back on you, “Nonononono.” You whine in frustration as he stands from his knees. 

He dips down, pressing a kiss wet with your slick to your cheek, bringing his lips to your ear, “Patience sugar,” He chuckles, hands moving to undo his belt, “Promise it’ll feel better if you wait for it.” 

Your chest is heaving, pussy fluttering around nothing as you sit and watch as he sheds his jeans, kicking them backwards to join your underwear on the kitchen floor. Then he’s tugging his t-shirt over his head. If you weren’t so angry with him, you’d be able to appreciate the broad expanse of his chest, the way the muscles of his biceps clenched whenever he moved. All you could focus on was the intense need to chase the high he’d deprived you of. You weren’t even overly bothered when he helps you stand, dragging your dress over your body to meet it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. You’re aware of the fact that he unclips your bra, grateful more than anything that it’s off after a long day. 

Then, Joel is turning you around, placing his warm palm at the nape of your neck and pushing you down to the table. Your palms are resting on the wood in front of you. You turn around and watch as he fishes a condom from his wallet, shucking his boxers off before sheathing himself. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl,” He murmurs behind you, using one of his feet to kick gently at your ankle, causing you to widen your stance, “Promised you I would.”

You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your slick entrance before he’s slowly burying himself inside you to the hilt. You let out a whine of satisfaction at the feeling of him filling you. He pulls himself back a little before he’s slamming back into your pussy like he means it this time. He’s pounding into you so hard that your hips are digging into the table in front of you. He’s got one hand gripping the nape of your neck again, keeping you pressed down, the other gripping the meat of your ass. 

“You like that?” He asks, grunting behind you as he pulls out and thrusts back in, “Like it when I fill your pretty pussy like this.” 

Oh God, I really do, is all you can think, but the way his cock is brushing against that perfect spot inside you means you can’t talk, only let a throaty moan drop from your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even talk, pretty girl,” Joel chuckles, his point proven when he shifts the angle of his hips slightly and has you crying out when he thrusts back into you, “Gotta remember this, okay?” You nod, “Remember how well I fuck you when I can’t be there.” 

It’s desperate from here on out. He’s rutting into you like a man starved, hips beginning to stutter as he climbs towards his own climax. You think he might actually leave you hanging until the hand that was gripping your ass slips in front of you and begins circling your clit. You almost cry with relief. The circles on your clit are messy but they’re doing their job. You can feel your tight walls clenching around Joel’s cock, can hear that way his moans change when you do. Neither of you are going to last much longer, it’s just a question of who gets there first. 

Just as you think the answer is going to be you, Joel once more pulls his hand from your pussy, and you actually cry. The second time he’s cruelly denied you your release and you’re fed up. He’s always been a giver. Always made sure you finish before he does. But right now, he doesn’t seem to care. Both his hands are gripping your hips, you know there will be bruises of his fingertips there tomorrow. He thrusts into your pussy twice more, maybe three times before he’s stilling inside of you and groaning your name behind you. 

You don’t really think he gives himself enough time before he’s slipping out of you, pulling you up and around to sit you back on the table before he’s once again on his knees with his face buried in your cunt. 

“You wanna come, pretty girl?” He asks, thumbing at your clit gently. 

“Make me come right now Joel Miller,” You demand, tears dripping from the corner of your eyes in frustration, “Before I kill you.” 

His lips circle your clit again and he’s lapping at your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers are back inside you, curling again, reaching that sweet spot inside you that has your back arching into him. 

It’s quick and it’s overwhelming when it arrives. Your whole body is convulsing and you’re calling his name out into the emptiness of the room. There’s are dark spots in your vision and the aftershocks are more intense than you’d ever felt before. Joel is slipping his fingers from you but continues pressing light kisses to your clit as you come down from your high. 

He lets you fall back onto the table for a moment as he disposes of the condom, but is back quickly, gathering you up into his arms and walking you to the couch. He lies down and settles you on top of him. He knows that he pushed you tonight, knows that the shaking of your shoulders and the tears in your eyes are because you’re overwhelmed. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead whilst you recover. 

“You okay, sugar?” He whispers into your hair as his other hand rubs soothing lines up and down your spine. 

You look up at him, eyes glazed, “I am more than okay, Miller.” You mumble, letting your lips drop to his chest to press a kiss to them. 

He tilts your chin to his face, shuffling a little to capture your lips in his for a tender kiss, he pulls away, leaving barely any space between your lips and his, “Did so well for me,” He praises, “Hopefully that’ll keep you going until I can see you again.” 

You press forward and kiss him again, letting your arms circle his neck, “Seriously now though,” You whisper, gathering your strength, “What do you want to eat, because I’m starving.” 

[zheiya]

Jiyan x Reader NSFW

After a long day of training. You went to the hot springs to soothe the ache in your muscles. As you set aside your things and began removing accessories when you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Jiyan, arms crossed

"I didn't know you went here as well"

Jiyan said amused. You realised he didn't have anything on

"General Jiyan it's good to see....you....here..."

As you tried not to look down below his neck you're afraid that you might be tempted to jump on him once given an opportunity.

Jiyan raised an eyebrow, smirking playfully at the blush that quickly crept up on your neck.

"I thought I was just Jiyan to you, Y/N."

His voice was deep, sultry, and full of innuendos.

"And why would you be surprised to see me here? I'm quite the social butterfly, you know."

He moved closer, the heat radiating from his naked body causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"Besides, I can tell you need some help soothing those aches and pains."

You coughed as you looked away.

"Nonsense General Jiyan I appreciate the gesture but I can do it myself."

Jiyan let out a low chuckle, his sharp gaze piercing you.

"Fine. But let me just watch you do it. After all, I've heard that the sight of your body in water turns people on."

His voice was laced with an undercurrent of mischief, and the predatory gleam in his eyes only made the situation more intense.

"But you better make it worth the wait, Y/N."

With that, he reclined on a nearby bench, crossing his legs to reveal even more of himself. You could feel the heat from his body, as well as the electricity crackling between the two of you.

You blushed as you just hurriedly walk towards the hot springs and find a secluded spot.

As you moved to find a secluded spot, Jiyan leaned forward, his eyes following your lithe movements. His lips curled into a satisfied smirk, and a predatory gleam appeared in his golden gaze.

"I see you're eager to avoid my prying eyes, Y/N," he said, his voice a seductive whisper.

"But you'll have to face me eventually, and I'll be waiting, right here, with all the patience in the world."

You could hear the undercurrent of desire in his voice, and you knew you were in for a challenge. I turned around I blush as I splash a water towards his eyes.

"Hush you! Your way to pent up to be doing this on public there are people here!"

Jiyan let out a surprised yelp, covering his eyes as water splashed onto them. His golden eyes peeked over his fingers, a playful fire burning in their depths.

"Public? It's just you and me, Y/N," he retorted, his voice dripping with playful teasing.

"Besides, I'm not the one with the issue here."

He lowered his hand, the mischief and hunger in his eyes unmistakable.

"Don't worry, I'll be more than happy to help you with those aches and pains, as long as you let me see more of your beautiful body."

His voice carried a clear invitation, and it was clear that Jiyan was determined to turn this encounter into something unforgettable.

You blushed as you snob him.

"No I know you're going to do something so I will not relent."

Jiyan's lips curled into a playful smile, his eyes sparkling with challenge.

"Fine, Y/N. Have it your way. But know that I'll still be watching."

He leaned back on the bench, his golden gaze never leaving your body. You could feel the intensity of his stare, as if it was a physical touch. The heat from his body seemed to grow even more intense, and the tension between the two of you grew palpable.

As you moved deeper into the hot springs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation, knowing that Jiyan's watchful gaze was fixed on you. You could tell that he was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to close the distance between the two of you. The game had begun, and you knew that there was no way to escape Jiyan's persistent pursuit.

You sighed as you blush you've been married together for years ever since the Threnodian war ended and we got some free time. Maybe because everything seems peaceful he is...well started to get more excited than usual...

Jiyan's smirk widened, his gaze locked on you as you spoke.

"And who wouldn't be excited after all we've been through, Y/N? We've earned this peace and this time to enjoy ourselves."

He paused, letting the intensity of his stare wash over you, before continuing.

"As for being 'more excited than usual,' well, let's just say I've always had a weakness for the alluring beauty you possess. And now that the war is over and we can finally explore those desires, I won't let a single opportunity pass me by."

The heat from his body seemed to grow even more intense, and the predatorial gleam in his eyes made it clear that he wasn't someone to be trifled with. Jiyan had set his sights on you, and you knew that nothing would deter him from claiming what he wanted.

You looked at him, glaring at his direction.

"Must you do this on a public space, anyone can easily enter this place."

Jiyan's smirk deepened, a playful fire in his eyes.

"This is no public place, Y/N. The hot springs are exclusively for our group, and you know it. Plus, I'd rather do this here than risk someone interrupting us in a more private location."

He leaned forward, crossing his legs again to reveal even more of himself.

"So, do you want to continue playing this little game, or shall we indulge in what we both know we've been craving for so long?"

The invitation was clear, and the heat radiating from his body seemed to press against your skin, urging you to make a decision.

The challenge was set, and the game was on. Jiyan was determined, and the tension between the two of you was a testament to the unspoken desires that lay beneath the surface. It was a battle of wills, with the two of you pushing and pulling, each trying to assert their dominance. In this heated moment, you knew that one of you would ultimately relent, and the consequences of that choice would be something neither of you would forget anytime soon.

You huffed.

"I will not be swayed by desires."

Jiyan's smirk deepened, and he let out a low chuckle, his sharp gaze not leaving your body.

"I never said it was desire, Y/N. We've known each other for years, and I can tell when someone is lying to me. It's written all over your face, and it's burning in your eyes."

He let his voice drop to a sultry whisper, the predatorial glint in his eyes growing even more intense.

"You can keep denying it, but you can't deny the heat between us. Eventually, you'll crave the release as much as I do. So, do we continue to dance around each other, or do we finally give in to the fire that has been smoldering between us all this time?"

Jiyan's words carried the weight of his unwavering confidence, and you could feel the energy between the two of you growing with each passing moment. The game had taken an irresistible turn, and you knew that no matter the outcome, the consequences would leave a lasting impact on both of you. The battle of wills was at a stalemate, and the decision to either surrender to the temptation or maintain the distance now rested solely in your hands.

You bit your lip as you weighed the options while you were looking at him. Ghad why did you marry a very hot man....you don't know if this is a blessing or a curse...

Jiyan's smirk widened, his gaze never leaving your face as you deliberated. "Oh, you've chosen well, Rickylyn, trust me on that. Now, the only question left is, will you finally let me in and let me show you the depths of the fire that burns between us?"

The predatorial gleam in his eyes grew even more intense, and the heat from his body seemed to wash over you like a wave. The tension between the two of you was unbearable, and the air was thick with the weight of unspoken desires.

You could feel the pull of the unknown, the irresistible temptation to give in to the passion that Jiyan offered. He was a powerful presence, and you knew that once you crossed the line, there would be no going back. The choice to either succumb to the heat between you or to remain distant lay at your feet, and the consequences of your decision would forever change the dynamics between the two of you.

"....How desolate this place?"

Part 2