#vacant mirrors vibes

[kooyabooya]

GAMBIT

m reader x tzuyu // 9k words

The thing about risk takers, you see, is the fact that you tell them to stop multiple times - and they never do. 

At every turn of the hands on the clock, here lies Chou Tzuyu, in her most casual form imaginable. One leg on the other with an arm outward to the head of the couch cushions. She’s got her face at this inquisitive angle; pure innocence, slant lips nearing a sly grin while she’s put through an earful from her manager: 

“You’re on your last set of legs, and I hope to god that this story doesn’t break out in the ringers of the press come tomorrow morning.” 

Nothing could scrounge up the loss of professionalism, draining away from the slips in the shut door frame. Because the challenges become more complicated than the other, and this one might just be the tip of the iceberg. 

“Well then,” Tzuyu starts, and in typical Tzuyu fashion: sweetly and unbothered. “Let’s just have our fingers crossed that no one around here is willing to leak that out to the public.” 

Tzuyu’s manager glances towards your direction, matching the same eyebrow with theirs in pure confusion as to what this conversation was boiling down to. You almost feel bad, but fortunate enough to not be stuck in their position. Dealing with Tzuyu’s bullshit on a day to day basis, growing a gloomy shade in their hair that shouldn’t be there for another twenty to thirty years; luckily, that hasn’t happened to you, at least not yet. 

In the years of service that you’ve had with the agency, you’ve had the fair pleasure in confiding with different individuals amongst the growing industry, to different waves of success. Sana? A world beater that has cameras flashing everywhere she goes. Mina? An absolute angel sent from heaven, well fit into the standards of fame. Those two amongst your clients might as well be considered your favorites - and the list that follows after is a very reputable asset to have. 

But Tzuyu? That is a blank area that has still yet to be defined. 

Something about Chou Tzuyu around these doors and offices has everyone turning their heads in the other direction - because you know from experience in this industry - for someone like her that’s bound for stardom with that one of one face and the age that she’s at will be the kind of story that’s not following the script. She’s one of the most genuine, kind-hearted, and beautiful souls that everyone envies to an extent; moreso jumping over cars and off of cliffs to have a mere inkling of notice from her, a scale tipped in the balance to love or hate her persona at the same time. Every now and then she sweeps you up in that whirlwind too, but who can blame you for getting lost in her charming features?

And you find it to be amazing at how she remains so stoic. Color yourself impressed, or bewitched even, you’re also reminded why this little project of hers hasn’t been brought out to the world. 

“So remind me again,” you’re saying, settling yourself around the office, scooching your way past Tzuyu to take the open spot left vacant on the couch, “Tzu over here was caught with what?” 

The observing of Tzuyu doesn’t stop there, unfortunately, limit testing on how dire this present situation actually is - with those long, glossy locks that rest right past her shoulders and in front of her chest, beautifully so like a sculpture bust; the threaded eyebrows, and those long eyelashes. Then, there’s the dimple - and her baby blue outfit, the heels, the jewelry, snug with the curves of her body, she’s meant to be the main event, the sole person who can shift the atmosphere in just a few steps-

Tzuyu’s manager, sadly, isn’t one to play games however. 

Another quirk of the brow gets thrown, and they hit you with a crinkle from the bridge of their eyebrows, inward lips as if anything said from this point on would be held against themselves. 

So you smile, and play the cool guy vibe, mirroring Tzuyu’s seating position in the exact same way down to the wiggling foot. “Well?” 

A file gets thrown to the coffee table in the middle of you three, and a phone is up in the air - unlocked and everything when it lands in between your hands. It’s already on the photos app, and when you’re zooming in to get a closer look at all of the pictures from what you can see from the date in the top portion of the screen - from last weekend, and you’re doing the exact same expression as her manager. 

“It was supposed to be a breaker event for little ‘miss perfect’ over here,” Tzuyu’s manager starts, laser focused like he thinks you’re going to ask her yourself if the contents in the phone were actually hers - which might not make the situation better. Look, you’ve got to keep it cool and stay professional, since that’s your job - especially since Tzuyu’s also young, not by much, but it still feels all the same. Sure, you could challenge that, but why would you? Every time you look at Tzuyu, she can see that there’s not a single thought past your eyes. “I leave her with Sullyoon for thirty minutes at this event and I-” 

You turn your head towards Tzuyu again to which she gives you the side eye after looking at the phone in your hand, and somehow you just know. 

Tzuyu’s manager flips open the file, filled with a good stack of pictures. He spreads them out all over the table, much like finding a specific still from this gallery that stands out. You’re staring, closer, the photos match up in the phone too and- 

Shit. 

That’s the only word that you can think of, but the meaning and intent could be taken in either one of two ways. As for the thoughts circling around your head?

There’s hardly any. Almost nothing. 

“Okay,” you say, face still unfazed; a skill in itself that took a god awful amount of time to get down perfectly, but still, holy shit. Now you’re seeing why the agency is doing everything in their power to keep this under wraps. You can’t even believe the pictures that show Tzuyu exposed with no clothes at all, clearly tattered up in marks and scratches and ran through from whoever was the person that took the pictures in the first place. There’s her thighs stacked on top of each other with pointe feet, her abs are soaked in fresh spurts of cum, the way that her head is crestfallen to the right side as she tries to cover her face, how she smiles at the corner of her mouth; she’s made for the cameras - and you could see the literal sex that she emits from the stills, every profane term in the book or in your vocabulary culminated into one person - but this is the line of work you’ve put yourself in, as you can feel the two pairs of eyes staring at you from the both of them, waiting for an answer. 

You toss the phone off to the side, and get your fingertips on the pictures, examining them with wandering eyes. And with the calm and composed demeanor you could craft within seconds, you say: “I don’t see what’s the problem here.” 

Nothing flies with Tzuyu’s manager at this point when it comes to you. “Watch the attitude now,” he leads, overbearing. 

“What he said,” Tzuyu doubles one second after, a wisp of hair falling to the front of her face, grinning behind the thin curtain of her strands, “Watch the attitude.” 

You exchange glances between Tzuyu and her manager, clearly in shock at how they’re figuratively double-teaming against you. Tzuyu’s always had a knack for being upbeat and funny, flirty would also be a way to put it, but she’s made that her own thing, her label - the press wasn’t kidding when they said in between the lines that this woman here was going to turn the world on its head, to make anyone from anywhere fall to the ground just to have them acknowledged in her good graces - many will die when granted the opportunity - but it's one of those days that has you wondering why she’s more forward, and obvious, that equation is still getting solved by the second. 

“Done,” you say after, giving in to their demands; it’s still difficult to learn and determine what kind of tale she’s willing to write today and you’re still seeing whether it's a good idea to play along to what’s forming. “What else do we know about her and-”

“Sullyoon’s already had her discussion earlier,” Tzuyu answers right away, combing her hand through her hair, watching her fingers disappear within those coffee bean locks that’s effortlessly charming. “As for me, that’s still yet to be determined. Which also got me thinking: it can’t be that bad as it sounds the way that you’re suggesting it.”

You’re also seeing the attitude that Tzuyu’s showing through her words and how she feels about the entire situation as a whole before you and her manager could even dive into the more complicated bits within the first five minutes of walking into the room. It’s like in her case file written in parentheses: ‘known to be a hot head, and a bit self-obsessed’ - considering her arrogance at times, but her charms make up for it. She can be one or the other, or even both. It’s how she grins: simply desirable. Once she’s put her name out there for the rest of the world, and not even for the industry, the scandals won’t even touch her going forward. She’ll be untouched while you are at the bottom picking up the scraps and taking the damage. 

“The punishment for Sullyoon is a lot more lenient because of me,” says Tzuyu’s manager, but his gaze gets back on her, hand on hip in clear and utter disappointment with the shake of his head. “And Haewon’s already not having it with the incident with Bae. Now with this, it’s a complete clusterfuck of events, so I just-  ugh, it’s a lot.” 

“Sorry to hear that,” you apologize, a hand up but the look on your face shares little to no care about the manager’s pain as of this moment. “And for the record, I feel like we had this conversation before, no?” 

“You’re her advisor, dipshit.” Tzuyu’s manager grits, ball forming at the fist, “That’s the reason why I brought you on board with her in the first place. Isn’t that supposed to be your job to, y’know, advise?” 

“You’re the manager, and might I add the correction: her manager,” you shoot back retortfully, “Maybe you should keep a close monitor on our lovely, budding starlet here from the get-go?” 

Tzuyu stifles a laugh, causing both your eyes and her manager’s to do this form of joint attention on her, and hiding away in the plane of her medium-sized hand, “What?” you both say to her, and it comes off as comical. 

“Nothing,” she muses, lifting a leg up over her opposite one this time, leaning deeper into the cushions of the couch, eyebrows up in the horizon of her forehead, beaming. “I just thrive amongst the bickering you two are having over my career.” 

“See?” And Tzuyu looks away from your rolling eyes, “I put it in the file in bullet points. She’s not ready for this kind of pressure and lifestyle, and do you really want me to go through the list of the incidents she’s already put herself through to serve your memory?” 

“I would find it best for you not to remind me of everything up until now.” Tzuyu’s manager shuts down the question, spinning his phone in hand between the fingers, “Please don’t-” 

“DUI charges, social media backlash because of a vape laying in her lap in one of the pictures, smoking out late at night with Ryujin and Yuna,” You’re listing out the events anyway, because Tzuyu’s manager can easily tell that you’re the kind of person to not really give a shit about these kinds of things. It’s not you being put under the spotlight - this microscope that’s always being picked off with a pair of tweezers - how one influencer’s words could brainwash the general public into rubbing their palms with a pair of tangerines. They’ll always follow, to some extent; and for Tzuyu, that’s the kind of power she wants to have - to get people talking about her and not stop there. 

“So do you want me to keep going?” You ask again, clearly caring little to none as Tzuyu examines her personal stills, head tilted when she picks up one of the photos. “And may I remind you that she’s got a gala event to attend to in the midst of all this, so let me ask you this boss,” you say, and you can see the flared nostrils coming from Tzuyu’s manager, “How do you want to go about this?” 

Tzuyu’s manager freezes, phone vibrating in record time like crazy. He’s taking a few seconds to strategize the next move, what’s the next course of necessary action. Keeping Tzuyu here is the worst idea, because that breeds into speculation. Compounding that, there’s also the monumental effort of keeping these pictures on the table in her phone on the down low, which may be impossible at this point, given with the insiders circling around like moles in the organization. 

“The event isn’t for another hour and a half or so,” Tzuyu’s manager announces, eyes darting back and forth from the phone to you two sitting on the couch, pulling his lips upward at the exchange of messages. “Fuck this industry sometimes,” he groans, “You do things here and there and don’t expect the treatment to be - goddamit, Haewon’s calling me again about Sullyoon,” he says, phone to the side of his head when he answers. “Hey, Haewon. No, I uh- I’m here with Tzu and- yeah, I’ll come over right now to see the situation.” He pulls his phone away from his ear, button pressed on mute, “Sorry, but you know where I’m going with this here.” 

“Don’t be,” says Tzuyu. There’s some tension in the air, like a flare set off in the dead of the night - how her head turns slightly towards your direction, smile laced with a purpose - and she cocks her head off to the side as her manager starts to make his way out the room. “We’re not leaving yet as it is.” 

Her manager pauses, in between the open doorway. His phone is right back into his ear, nodding along to Haewon on the other end of the line, eyes lapping side to side and back between the two of you - because it’s his job, and he can’t get away from that fact regardless. 

“That’s still up in the air, you know,” he says towards you, clearly hurt by the tone you gave earlier; insulted might be one better word to put it, but he knows that you know better and you’re just acting like this out of spite. “Don’t know how long this will take, but pray that I’ll be back before we have to go.” 

Once the door closes - much like a kingdom raising up their drawbridge, a safe with all the locks in the world clicking into place - holding you and Tzuyu prisoner in this vacuum of space, this could be hell, or it might be heaven. Tzuyu clicks her tongue, gets it under the front portion of her bottom teeth, at a molar, studying you as if you’re a centerpiece or painting hung up on the room; this girl is clearly unreadable. 

“Tzu,” you call out to her, keeping the ambiance chill - whilst maintaining some form of lead in this hurricane of tension. It doesn’t also help that the sun is right at the ocean, kissing along the horizon towards the beach, a wonderful mixture of hues between orange and dark blue and purple clashing in the sky, the lights are on in the neighboring skyscrapers - a view that can serve as the last sight for someone before falling off fifty plus stories - and in the midst of all that calming pictures, she’s still looking at you. 

She leans over, dress wrinkling in all the right creases. Don’t look now, or else that’ll be the end of you, as she blinks dotingly, lashes fluttering and with that sugary tone of hers, she just says: “Yes?” 

“What gave you the compelling idea to have an entire album of a cock in your mouth. Not only that, but the fact that Sullyoon was also in on this too? Especially when she’s three years younger than you, her senior? Like what-” 

“You’re making it sound like I fucked up?” Tzuyu says, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, the innocence isn’t doing her any justice compared to the hard evidence found in her phone. “Of course I know what I was doing, and believe me, this would only speed up the process a little more.” 

“What process?” 

“To get me out there into the real world.” 

She giggles when the crease of your eyebrows knitting together comes back into the frame of your face, leaning over while she sinks back into the couch, hands fiddling with the red ribbon that was attached to her dress. The eerie sound of your name being recited from the proper pronunciation meshing into hums. She’s observing your posture, much like her normal act persists - staying quiet but acknowledging others when needed. You hate how much of a sweetheart she is at times, because it’s all a setup for a bleeding edge that eventually comes to life sooner or later. 

“I’ll keep it real,” you’re starting again, “You did fuck up. And you fucked up bad. It’ll be a miracle if this doesn’t get out, but I’m not holding my breath for you, and-” 

Tzuyu just keeps staring. With that gaze of hers, she’s still trying to get a read - from the hem of your jacket or at the peak of your ruffled hair, it might be easy to tell that in some way: she’s into you.

“Okay, in simple terms, you’ll live.” With that said, you shouldn’t be silently suffering with a potential breakout star of an actress, so you’ll hang strong against her glance. This was something that you enjoyed doing from the multiple meetings and screenings. “We could honestly set this up to be a hush money agreement with whoever managed to get these pictures in the first place -  your fault, might I add - but anyways, all of this should go away, if we play our cards right. No need for you to come forward to address the rumors, that’s why you have people like us to deal the damage. All you have to do here is just - uhm - well, be Tzuyu.” 

Tzuyu appears intrigued, finding a small crack in your impenetrable armor, a rarity at times but also is aware that it might be a minor slip-up. “Be Tzuyu? What do you mean by that?” 

You flash a look at her, but she’s one to double down, eyes squinting - she’s capitalizing on your mistake. “There’s a proper term for this,” she says, “and maybe um, pretty would be one to suffice?” 

“I’m not trying to sound afraid,” you say, calmly. “There’s two choices between right and wrong. Then there’s the respect, and also being sensible. You have to treat this career like it’s your life.” And you didn’t say professional, because that word is the last resort; a rescue rope only to be used in the most dire situations. 

“I want this life.” The admission, something nestling underneath the parts of her sentence, a slow-burning being soaking behind those soiled eyes. Tzuyu then scoots over, gets closer to you, tips her chin to further the examination. “I have what it takes to be professional. You’re just afraid to say it to my face.” 

“Welp, you caught me,” you say, knotting your fingers in between themselves just to keep yourself from doing anything rash, maybe walking out of the room to leave her alone would be the best move, instead of letting your thoughts get the best of you and pinning her body flat on the couch. “Seriously, doing things like this will only kill your chances of making it big even before you start.” 

Common sense appears to be dissipating out the clear windows. And now Tzuyu is the one who’s taking full advantage, bursting your personal bubble - the way that she shimmies her way across the cushions, so mindful of how she moves her body at every curve and nick in her limbs; you can hear your own heartbeat quickening, like you’re hiding in a locker and she’s about to tamper with the dial to get the door open - and she’s about face to you, hand ghosting the upper profiles of your chest where your shoulders are at. She’s not that tall from a height standpoint, but sitting down, she’s matching your build bit by bit. 

“It’ll happen, regardless,” says Tzuyu, face with a wide grin. “That’s why people like you are working hard to make sure that things like these don’t happen again. Especially in the long run.” 

“You’re really going all out today, are you?” You exclaim after closely assessing, holding our ground against her. “Might I add that you might also ruin Sullyoon’s career after yours is out of our hands?” 

“She’s a tough girl,” says Tzuyu, flatly, as if the prospect itself is something to laugh about. Tzuyu is a silent killer, shown in her signs of arrogance which shouldn’t be enticing to you, but they are, and in every way possible. “And like I told you, I’ll keep doing shit like this because I want to. You can hide away all you want, when it’s clear in your eyes that you want me just as bad as I want you.” 

“And what do you propose here?” 

“I’m telling you that the way you sound right now turns me on, genius.” 

It comes in a black flash, much like you staring down the hole of a double-barreled shotgun; or your head getting pushed into a tub of ice cold water. You can see the stars in her eyes, each and every one of them an alternate reality of their own between you and Tzuyu, sparkling with so much light. “Who’s saying that fucking a client was on the cards?” 

And Tzuyu chuckles at that, on cue like it's some cheeky sitcom. “Don’t get stupid with me,” she says, and she’s raining fire down from above. “Everyone already has said the same thing at least once or more.” 

Your eyes land on the clock hanging above the room, then they dart to the closed door. “He’s not gonna be back anytime soon, is he?” 

“Haewon’s office is at least five floors down, and the elevator apparently hasn’t been working all day..” 

“Some luck.” 

“I can make my own.” 

“I hope you know that this is a really bad path you’re going down to.” You’re deterring, but it's a lazy attempt at best, no point in shying away - because you’re not scared of Tzuyu, and you never were, mentioning the fact that she’s radioactive in her own rights. She’s equipped with an arsenal of tricks and quirks, but you’ve got your own brandished within that noggin of yours. A hand is on her thigh, trailing up to the hip, and she looks down to take the hint, scooting closer. “You’ve got some nerve, testing me like this, and you have no idea what you just signed up for.” 

“Do you have to be this serious?” Tzuyu’s hand finds yours, slipping up against the fine silk across the palm of your hand. “I’m one for keeping things simple here,” she’s telling you, watching your eyes as your fingers get rumpled over the fabric, venom lacing your nerves before you even realize it. It’ll get reactive really quick, but you stand your ground. “About the sex, don’t overcomplicate-” 

“Why would I overcomplicate something with the likes of you?” you’re asking her, and you watch as her hand finds the knot tied at the nape of her neck, unraveling it, where you see her bra. It’s no help that she’s sliding her dress down to her panties and thighs, the covers being unleashed with every inch opening up to the air. “We’re on track here, and I think I’m getting warmer here.” 

This is something serious, much like a public execution at the hands of her just strolling on by - people stopping in their tracks just to get a good look of that face, that body, so this might be some form of armageddon - but Tzuyu’s dress gets discarded somewhere in the office, to a corner where it won’t be seen on her until you’re fully done with her. Everything in your head is flowing like a whitewater river, a burning urge that gets beyond just the sexual aspect of it. So you’ll get your knees deep: 

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” you ask, and examine. The sense of being normal and professional has long gone out the way. But oh. Oh, she knows what she wants, and you’ll have the fine luxury to give that to her, because it’s what you signed up for: twist the words and her body in every way that you see fit, to fill people in on what their crown jewel of a woman is up to. “Dreaming of that one day where someone will just tell you straight: I want to fuck you. Well Tzu, today’s your lucky day.” 

Tzuyu tenses, eyes appearing like glitter, holding your hand where it stays on the rise of her hip. “I’ve never seen you this talkative outside office hours.” 

“I converse like this on the regular.” You’ve got the experience, and the hours under your belt, you’re holding the other end of the rope in her burgeoning career - if she fucks up the next time, you’re also gone along with her, too. “Now, are you gonna keep talking, or are we going to talk business?” 

Tzuyu is so good for you, in more ways than one. It’s in her eyes, the way that she tilts her head off to the side, when you’ve pushed her up against the cushions as far as you could take her, hair spilling over to her covered breasts, keeping her gaze locked with yours when you’ve sunk to the bottom of the couch - the low light of the sunset makes way for the night sky, moonlight breaking through that captures her face, illuminating the fine mold of her cheekbones, her teeth break past her lips, and she smiles a bit like practice for the waves of flashes out on the red carpet - she relaxes, feels the lace of her panties slide off her thighs like nothing. Undeniably gorgeous, is one way to put it, she’s dirty, she’s every single thing; oh god, the staring, when you look up between her legs, mouth hanging low, chest puffed up in anticipation of the relieving pressure. 

“Many people have tried to test me, get rid of the fun in what I do with my manager and such,” Tzuyu says. “But I knew-” Her hands find yours, sliding up the sides of her outer thighs, holding them in place when you start to lean in. “You didn’t do anything about it, and I liked how you were with me, to set me right, without the changes of rules.” 

“Had it been anyone else,” you acclaim, mouth leaving hot and wet kisses across the inner portion of her thigh; she’s got a hand in your hair with no intention of letting you go. 

“You,” Tzuyu says the singular syllable, reduced to just very minimal words, much like she’s being scolded. But the confession let out is like a padlock finally breaking under the pressures of the wrench: “I’ve always wanted you. I promise and fuck- I’ll be good.” 

There’s actually no way she said- 

The words that spilled out her mouth flew over your head for a short second, a minor blowback in the swing of things - but then again, why are you playing it safe with Tzuyu in the first place? There’s no need, and you’ve got to make that apparent to her; you’ve got your hands on her long legs, spreading your hand out on the skin, she’s got a hand sliding down to her glistening pussy, but she reels back when you’ve beat her to it, and Tzuyu hisses, hiding a whine, “Baby…” 

You pause, hike her up on the couch higher, focus slinging to her face, and her dead-eyed stare slams right alongside yours. 

“Tzuyu,” you’re saying, when you’ve managed to say her name that’s caught in between your vocal folds - it’s a little rushed, no exhale behind it, and a bit tattered - but there’s her demeanor, the tightness swirling in the air between you two. She’s only a few years younger - and that alone could be worse - you’ve got the better position, the better wits of how things work, the implications - and maybe you were a pawn in her game all along, there’s really no telling. 

“Love it,” she exhales, voice tripping when you dip your mouth down to her other pair of lips, “when you say my name,” she’s needy, fingers curling to your head to satiate the sensation a bit longer. Legitimately, fuck, she might end your career, make you a martyr for the whole office to witness, and she could be the one to do all that. “Baby, your fucking mouth.” 

The gaze never wavers on her, hunting - her dainty fingers are gripping the cushions, fibers of muscle moving in ways much so she would be defending herself; she’s used to giving orders and due compliance, but knows where she stands in certain situations. She could be the primary catalyst of what’s happening right now, but you’ve got full control: a green light going off in the back of your mind. There’s no turning back now, foot to the floor, bases fully loaded. She won’t- She won’t last a week in this life by playing it by the rules. 

“Need me that bad?” You ask, face twisting devilishly. Some things in this line of work have taught you that people have to be selfish at times, and you’ll fall face-first into that. “Watch and learn, sweetheart. Don’t even think about getting your hands on me.” 

Tzuyu’s lip is caught between her upper teeth, rolls her eyes, nodding profusely - it’s gonna take more than that. You see her lidded eyes, spread her apart further, “We listening?” 

“No- touching,” she sighs. This girl is soaked - the refreshing taste of her cunt on the pad of your tongue, and you’ll keep indulging. You’ve got yourself in that open space between her legs, she’s sputtering out nonsense, pulling her thighs in to combat against your hands - “Please, just- please, do this one thing for me, I swear-” 

She’s waving the flag up high in the air, and of course you’re going to take this into account. This is someone who is going to make headlines wherever she goes, has people do things that would lead into major or second-hand embarrassment, so you lean down to her aching pussy - across the folds, and her clit, so slick for you, she’s sighing a lot more louder this time - and she’ll let you mold her into any shape you want her to be, let your tongue do the talking: “Right there, yes-” she’s relaxing into your hands and face, giving you the praise she’d never thought she’d say to you ever, like some act of contrition that will absolve her actions - wow, and you’re wondering of the lucky fucker who took the pictures of her and Sullyoon got the same luxury as you’re getting right now. “Fuck, oh honey-” 

You’re paying no mind to how her hips are wiggling across your face, desperate for a sense of friction, fighting every urge to not dig her nails into your hair and get your tongue even deeper where you can send it - but you keep her legs spread, and she could almost rip into the cushions on the couch, grip tight enough to choke- 

“Taste so good,” you mutter, off to the side of her leaking slit, listening as the chorus of Tzuyu’s moans crescendo a bit before dropping in silence. “Look at you, being so good for me.” 

“Shit, you’re gonna- you’re gonna make me-” 

Whether she’s able to tell you or not, you know it all the same. Her flawless face is so torn to the fine points - faltering in every aspect of perfection, that apex, you’re working her there, warmer, and warmer-

But you pull from the tops of her thighs, shove your nose right down to her clit. Stay right fucking here, and don’t even think about moving a muscle; sometimes there’s no need to say things verbally - but the implication stands - when Tzuyu finally lets go into the heat of your mouth. 

You can be lenient, maybe have her rest in the grace period, but there’s a schedule still drawn up on the board, and the sand in the hourglass is still seeping through the middle. “I’d like to keep this up,” you tell her, cleaning up the slick spread across your lips - that fine nectar, easy to say that you’re addicted, but that’s old news. “But must I remind you that you’ve got an image to protect at this gala you’ve got in an hour?” 

“Can- Can I have my turn now?” Tzuyu asks, sitting up on the couch now, hands fast to her backside, unlatching the clips of her bra, slides out of it like it’s nothing. You’ve got your jacket discarded on her manager’s desk, hands to the buckle. Tools are being laid out here amongst you two, and Tzuyu keeps her eyes trained on you, chest rising and falling - watching the noticeable bulge appearing in your boxers. “Please, I can help - just need your cock-” 

“Do you always like to rush these things?” You ask her - pushing her back as her arms just float in the air - she’s beautiful, gorgeous, and wanting; the notion alone would already be disregarded if it wasn’t for the sensible form of structure in your head. It’s in that dimple of hers, that sly grin, those eyes, she’s a personification of eye candy: you’ll keep staring for as long as she’d like you to. “No need to answer that, but,” and you laugh in between for a slight second, “You’re really pushy today.” 

“Please, baby.” That gaze, eyes trained up with her bit lip, she’s dangerous. “For me.” 

You don’t say anything, but with a simple nod, and her fingers are fast to the elastic. 

You also like how she’s willing to follow, to listen. She’s good with her hands, she’s been trained to handle PR questions with the flick of her wrist, programmed to take information and internalize it - she’s flawless enough to stand with the other clients, even when you’re the first to make the move in kissing her, capture her mouth with yours. It’s a bit cute when she’s caught off guard, sucking the air out of her, yielding to your touch.  She’s smiling against your lips, and that’s the laced venom you’ve been cautious of. 

The grip gets let go from the back of her head, retreating, panting, the taste of her lips mixed with yours. She helped clean off the remnants of her pussy on your tongue and she’s licking her lips again wanting more. “Give me some kind of feedback. A demand. Anything,” you command, fingers dancing along her chin when she looks up so innocently. “I think you’ll ask nicely, so prove it.” 

She doesn’t even think twice about it. “I want you,” she’s coming in and out of focus in her eyes, way past the point of no return, staring at you while she’s keeping you magnetized to her hands, slowly dragging along the skin of your cock, “to fuck me, put this cock inside my pretty little pussy, and use me to cum all over-” 

Her face does it for you, shattering right in front of your eyes, wanting smile, pupils blown - you snake your arms around her back, press her down to the couch - there’s a beauty behind the sneakiness of this, the thrill of being found out, the risks taken to take advantage of someone to your own liking, let the thrums of your heartbeat be the only thing to hear within yourself - but Tzuyu goes quiet, she’s so pliant and wet that doesn’t really need any words to come out of her, just the noises when- 

“Fuck.” 

When you slide your aching cock into her cunt, slowly, painstakingly strategic, and the feeling was too much to bear for her. 

“God-” 

You draw back and snap your hips into her - a statement made, an opening in the woven threads to rip a hole in -  you’ve got a hand quick to her parting mouth, hushing her, pinning her. “Go any louder,” you’re hissing, lowly, trying to not think about the fucking clench her cunt makes around you, “Go any louder, and you’re just asking to get caught. We can’t have that, can we?” This is something new, something absolutely obscene, hiding away in the office of her manager’s - keeping a secret that nobody should be able to tell, besides you two. “Did you realize how much of a slut you are when I saw those pictures?” 

Tzuyu’s breasts wobble on the upstrokes, bouncing along while leaking all over your length. The thought of damage control is still in play, to not have her completely ruined for the red carpet in the next hour or so - but you’ll take the secrecy, construct a fake picture to ensure that will not have anyone look a second time. Nobody will know how good Tzuyu’s wrapped around you, that hot and tight cunt, a hand now wrapped around her neck, pressing down but not too much- 

A thumb is in between her lips. “Speak up.” 

“Yes- I know, fuck, it was- a mistake.” She’s choking up the words from the hand on her throat, barely enough to produce the sounds through her vocal folds, chasing for that relief that she desperately needs - “It was stupid, but,” she’s unmoving with her reasons, fervor standing strong, it’s irking - you’ve got to fuck this attitude out of her - “That doesn’t matter, please, your cock, keep fucking, right there, that’s the spot, I’ll be good, I’ll cum for you, make you not worry about-” 

“You keep talking like this and I’ll make you shut up myself.” 

She spills a line of expletives that get mixed up with the slaps of her hips with yours, but there’s one outlier - maybe two - that captures your ears. 

“I didn’t make him cum inside me, but I’ll let you do it if you want.” 

“Yeah, not happening, babe. Not like this.”

Tzuyu mewls and whimpers when you give her one good, impaling hit inside her cunt, let your cockhead rest right beneath the womb where it aches. It doesn’t help her case when she’s shaking her head in refusal, denying. You’re chuckling as she tries to shimmy out of your grasp, the sound reverberating around the room, in relief, or awe would be a way to put it. Stepping into this office was a little bit out of your way, just popping your head in to get a quick word before going on with whatever was on the agenda - until this whirlwind of events coming from her changed all that. “Please. Can you do that? I want it, I want you, so bad. I swear, nothing bad will ever happen from me again - please, if you just-” 

Luckily, everyone’s gone from the office for today - because she’s way louder than you would’ve expected - you ram your cock inside her pussy, without any care for her begging and pleading - there’s also not ruining her appearance, but you’ll pull something out of your ass or she will to cover it up. You’ve made your mark in twisting people’s words around, shifting the angles that way you’re not the one taking up the heat. Conjuring up whatever you could that might rival a con artist’s whole life. But this is also another thing: if Tzuyu’s manager walks in right now, you could prime the whole act onto her and she’ll be gone. 

“You can keep asking, begging, offering, whatever it is that you want.” It’s hard to forget that you’re on the clock, the provisos informed, lines that were drawn up from the start; you could cut it some slack, maybe for someone like her, who really knows. “I’ll keep fucking you up as long as I like, but you’re not getting me to cum up all inside you.” She tilts her head back, and you sweep down to the column of her neck, get a mark on it, not too hard. “Want it to be easy? Just keep screaming, nobody will hear you.” 

Wishing that this moment here in the room to last forever might be a tall ask. From the exchange of hitched breaths coming out of your lips and hers, to the slaps still stable in pace, bottoming her out as her ankles finally latch onto the small of your back, holding you in place - someone could walk in the room now and know without question as to what you’re doing to her - maybe with the sea of cameras at this event later will take notice as to the damage you’ve done to- 

“Inside. Please, nobody has to know. Just us.” Fuck, this girl is testing your mental tenacity, exersizing every impluse that you’ve unleashed of every dirty thought you’ve had since working with her. She could convince you with words, the magma emitting from her voice, sounding low, goes so well in tandem with her moans. “Maybe if you keep this up, I’ll let you knock me up whenever you want, wherever you want, however you want.” 

“You- Tzuyu, you- fuck-” 

“That would be so hot, you know? To use my tight pussy as your personal cumdump - shit - even the manager won’t take up on the offer, so you’re the next one in line.” 

The defiling theory alone is very, very tempting. She’s not like this when there’s a camera or journalist waiting for a slip up to pen the story - you’re still in the driver's seat, keeping it level, thinking of some substance for guidance. You’ve been in this position before, and you’ve learned. 

So: 

“I’d be honored,” you say to her, pressing a hand down her breast, grasping, pulling your cock out to do a few measly slaps along her sensitive clit to show her you’re not playing around, “So far you’ve been convincing, but you’re still new to this. A few stupid acts early on will ruin you down the line, so watch yourself.” 

In the meetings, you remember the firm tone when asked for your personal take towards a proposed plan - coming off as abrasive because that’s how gritty this industry really is without showing it - Tzuyu’s incidents have been nothing short of interesting, talking down on her for acting like a complete dumbass - but she loves the degrading, the harsh compliments. This is something that she wants, and you’d be happy to let the media eat her up alive for it. 

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that just to sway me,” you keep going, twist the knife to where it hurts: “You’re not the first one, let me tell you that, Tzuyu. And I can assure you: you certainly won’t be the last.” Hands on her hips, and you fuck in - it doesn’t get any simpler than that. “Don’t test me with that attitude, because I’ll make you change it in an instant.” 

Her entire body is like a noose, a live wire on a bomb that’s about to reach zero - she’s gripping and convulsing around your cock, you’ve got her to be this way, “Please,” pleads Tzuyu, the utterances and vowels and consonants all collapsing like some domino effect, eyes flapping shut, and the sounds of obscenity seem to get better every passing second, “You’re gonna make me- make me fucking cum, oh god-” 

She’s got so much potential to shake the industry up, not since Sana first came around and did some damage to you. Mina was also the same, and could match up with Sana if the universe allowed it. No one is ready for what Tzuyu has to offer, no fan could scream and break down crying let alone a photoshoot capture the beauty she carries with that face of hers, and that body, every part is sculpted to immaculate perfection, the flex in her abs when you thrust down, catch the arch in her back with an arm, get your forehead with hers, the scaffolding finally losing it’s last limbs of support at the ground level, hand quick to the hard bud of her nipple-

“Cum all over this cock, Tzu,” you’re sighing, leaning down to coax her with a kiss, and she’s got a hand raked through your hair again. “Cum for me. Do it. No shying away from me this time.” 

And like you’ve observed before, the mental note much like a callback, she’s so easy to comply; it's in how your mouth works over her, cunt so slippery hot in friction with your cock sliding in with no problem whatsoever, this is everything to you - and Tzuyu’s body goes limp, holding in a noise in her lungs. It’s a high-pitched ‘fuck’ followed with a murmur of your name, muddled with ‘baby, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-’ 

You’ll leave a mark for someone else to notice, the shade with enough bite that could be covered up with a little foundation, let her ride out the peak of her high. “Breathe, Tzuyu. There we go, nice and easy, soak up my cock with that pussy of yours. Jesus.” 

Tzuyu picks up on things fast, and she’s reduced to a various spill of words. She’s a shuddering mess, sinking her hips down to get a lasting feeling of your cock when you pull out - but she’s quick to get up, hands fast to your thighs; leaning down, a swift lick up on the underside. Her makeup is a bit battered, chest slick and light pink from all the marks you put; she hollows her cheeks, has a little bit of fun, and you start to sink. 

“Tzu.” 

She gives no response, lowering her mouth past the halfway point, eyes lidded, but weighted with intent, appalled; her cheek blows up unintentionally, lathering up your cock in her spit, and your head falls back to the crown of the seat. She’s unsure with what she’s doing, you’re tensing and untensing in the lower half, but complaining is the last thing you’ll do. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, gritting your teeth when Tzuyu reaches down a spot near the base, tongue grazing at a vein, where the head of your cock is staring down the hollow of her throat, a slight clench. She could care less with the curses leaving your mouth, it just tells her she’s doing something right. “Do whatever you want, and I’ll owe you next time. Fuck-” 

It does some form of numbers in your head when her eyes lock onto yours, smiling with half a cock in her mouth, quick to shut you up. 

Her mouth is amazing - and that could be an understatement. She’s holding you at the base, where the angle of your cock is tied down between her fingers. You let her take control for a bit, try to see if she can do it herself - but you’ll play the role of guidance again, because that’s what you do, help out in ways that make her have the moment - so you lean forward, hand fast to the back of her head, and you feel her jaw go slack, muffle the choking sound coming out of her open mouth- 

“Fuck, Tzuyu,” you grit, the name alone of hers is an easy impulse to keep doing; you’ve got her hair in this makeshift ponytail, out of the way when she continues to bob her head up and down the length. It was a boring day for you anyway, but at least you’ve made it up to have the prospecting breakout actress strip her clothes down and get on her knees in her manager’s office. “Just keep- yeah, okay, there we- ugh, shit-” 

She mumbles a brief phrase of a ‘mhm’, mouth wide open, salivating, nudging your cockhead down into her throat before pulling back up for another wisp of air - her index and thumb are wrapped around the bottom of your shaft, closing her eyes as the contraction literally leaves you breathless - all the way down into her throat, holding her up with her hair as much as you can- 

Yet the sound that rips from the cavity in your chest, it’s loud enough for someone to hear down the hallway, probably someone from the floor below to pick up on the commotion too. 

Tzuyu’s mouth lets out this sobbed out sound, coughing and inhaling your cock when you cum down her throat - she can’t swallow it all, you think, but you forget her ambition at times when she holds herself, eventually pulling back - eyes glossy and full of impurity, burning irises that mimic Sana’s when she also- 

“God-” you manage to choke out, fixated on the image of Tzuyu cleaning her face up with a small stream of your cum leaking out the corner of her lip. But, you’re satisfied. You’ll let her take the credit for now.

It also doesn’t help when she’s got a finger circling her slicked lips, tilting her head when she hollows her cheeks again around her fingertip. She knows she’s hot, how dirty she can get - and she’d let you do anything and everything from the fucking on the floor to railing her on the walls, because she’s got her own center of gravity with her being, that’s just how it is. 

You can’t help when you’ve pulled her back to your space, catching her lips, since that’s the only logical thing to do with her, and she’ll accept it. “Mmph. I just- you, you-”

“Yeah?” You’re saying, face in your hands when you keep kissing her. “Something to say?” 

“My mouth- you?” 

“And what about it?” 

“Your cum. You just-” 

“I overheard Sana talk to you about her story with me the other day, figured I’d just do it anyway.” 

The tone in your voice is a clear contrast to all the filthy stuff you were telling just a few minutes ago, it’s still crotchety, but a little more lighter than usual - like everything that was a worry suddenly just washed away, and all of a sudden Tzuyu’s quick to get your neck corralled with her arms, leaning for another kiss, the hums alone are delightful, pushing hysterical a bit. 

“I hate you,” she says, a chaste peck to your cheek when you’ve got her ass on top of your forearms, carrying her. She’s laying out a few suggestions, but you’re telling her that the gala could wait, to waste more time to explore her body, more and more. ‘That’s a lie, by the way, but I’m sure you knew that.” 

Shutting her up is a viable option, but she’s right on the jump with that one ahead of you - so she kisses you, why bother putting up a fight against that?

-

The car ride on the way to the gala premiere is nothing short in terms of quiet. Some chatter is being thrown around with you and the driver, since Tzuyu’s manager also had the unfortunate task of bringing some swinger that’s already made a name for herself with the company, per instructions given by Jihyo; you remember hearing it past the open door to your office, named Kim so-and-so on the files. Maybe it was Jennie or Jiwon, or was the name beginning with a letter D? 

“I think the boss man is convinced with your lobbying,” Tzuyu says under her breath. Like you, she’s managed to clean up her appearance - scent still fresh of sex, her hair still a bit rattled, but is trying to repair as much as she can. You can’t keep your gaze off of her; how the headlights from the oncoming cars illuminate through her eyes, handing you her hair band because it doesn’t match up with the look. 

“I mean, if you already asked him what you asked me, and he still refused,” chuckling when you’re looking out the window towards the sidewalk, trailing the crowd of people lining up around the venue, “That should give you enough prose to ask me, since I was next in line.” 

Tzuyu just laughs, dipping her head down - she’s infectious, without even putting effort into trying. You’re seeing why she’s bound to be a topic once she’s put herself out there, and - sure, you could draft up a file with all of that content in a heartbeat. Needless to say, you’ll be one of the many fans. 

“It was supposed to be sarcastic commentary,” Tzuyu tuts, combing her hair over to one side - at the left shoulder, turning her back towards you with the red strands of her dress untied. She peeks over before looking away, fingers fast to knot the ends for a snug fit, pat her collarbones down before tilting down to place a small kiss on her nape. “But on a serious note: do you really think you can handle my little fiasco?” 

You notice that the cars ahead start to slow down, file in line with security personnel stationed along the street, managing traffic. A whole lot of commotion going outside with the photo area, photographers getting ready with their cameras and flashes angled toward the cars, and thank God that the windows are tinted for good reason, brows furrowing in assessing the sea of different media outlets in attendance. 

Tzuyu flows her hair forward, a last minute touch up as she takes a deep breath to calm her mind. You’re playing the stand-in role of bodyguard, checking every side of the car to make sure that things are right in place, avoiding any form of fuck up that might pop up in the next few minutes or so. 

Just when a worker from the red carpet event approaches the door, a buzz vibrates on your thigh. One check later and it’s Tzuyu’s manager. With no hesitation, you answer: 

“Yeah. Oh, okay. Okay. Right, you got it.” 

“I’m trusting you with her. Please don’t fuck this up.” 

“I won’t,” you say, in a melancholic tone to which Tzuyu smirks at. “Good luck with Dahyun? I forgot her name, but it is Dahyun, is it?” 

“Don’t push your luck here, bye.” 

Once that’s gone out of the way, you move over to wave a hand to the worker, signaling a two in your hand to let them know of the delay. After touching bases. You settle back into the backseat, watch as Tzuyu observes from the window, taking in the sight of what she’s dedicated a good portion of her life towards - to thrive in the glares of publicity, get engulfed in the growing flames of fame. She can do a whole lot more than just stand still and look pretty, and you’ll help her there along the way. 

“Still think this is a lot to handle?” You ask, peering over her shoulder, causing her to twist back around to face you. “To be fair, you were pretty nervous when we brought up the incident earlier, so I’m just checking up on you.” 

Tzuyu simply stares, again. Her face may appear blank, but her eyes and the subtle quirk at the corner of her lips tell a different tale entirely. There’s also that sly dimple too, man, she’s too good for you to the point where it’s bad. So what if people already caught wind of her story, you’ve got the contingencies, the fallback if things go south; she got herself into this mess, and you know what you signed up for. 

“They all can go to hell if it comes my way,” says Tzuyu, face falling forward, leaning for a kiss. “Where’s the risk if you don’t run into a cyclone head on?” 

When she gets forward with a hand on the door handle, opening up to reveal herself to the world, you shake your head at her, because that’s another point of discovery to add to her growing list of character: she’ll be the face of this company in record time as long as she keeps acting this way, and you wouldn’t mind staying by her side for whatever is in store. 

Right before she goes any further down the capet, she twirls around on that singular heel on the sidewalk, facing you when you scan the screaming audience, landing your eyes on Tzuyu again - in all of her beauty and elegance, you’ll keep admiring no matter how far or close you are to her. 

An outreaching hand, the simplest gesture, and she asks: “So, are you ready tonight?” 

-

a/n: @co-reborn surprise! not really lol, but this fic is slightly dedicated to them. thank you taking time to read as always <3

[coralinnii]

‧₊˚✧ Everything Stays, Right Where You Left It ‧₊˚✧

↳ meeting once again after you returned home

feat: Azul ❋ Jamil ❋ Sebek ❋ Jade genre: hurt/comfort, romance note: no pronouns used with the reader, speculations of how Yuu/reader returns home are all theoretical (no canon timeline is confirmed at this time), established relationships, happy ending, a nickname for reader was used in Jamil ver.,

I didn’t add a quote or “voice line” like my typical headcanons/scenarios posts because it felt unnatural to this vibe.

Song suggestion: Everything Stays by Olivia Olson (Adventure Time)

You broke your own heart saying goodbye to him. Whether he begged you to stay or reluctantly let you go, the overwhelming pain burned deep in his soul when he saw your figure disappear into the mirror, to where he couldn't reach you anymore.

Time waits for no man and he has to keep going, without you by his side.

But then, just as mysteriously as before, you appeared once more before him, beautiful as the day you left.

“I missed you…”

Such an unfortunate soul, he first thought. A fish out of water, so far away from anything or anyone you knew, Azul hoped you would find comfort in him, for a price of course.

But you surprised him with your unyielding character, quick adaptability and eagerness to keep Azul on his toes. You were a tricky customer who threw him for a loop, and he became ever grateful you did. Friendly competition and cheeky comments became shy smiles and soon longing embraces.

But your efforts to find clues to your mysterious arrival to Twisted Wonderland bore fruit, and you were able to find a way to open a portal to return home. But you weren’t sure what was going to happen once you crossed that portal. You may have to say goodbye…forever.

This was a deal he just couldn’t make, the cards were against him. Azul would have bargained with every morsel under his name just to keep you in Twisted Wonderland, with him.

But there was a chance for you to finally return home, back to where you had a whole life before being whisked into this magical world. You had no regrets coming to this world, meeting Azul, and eventually loving him, but you couldn’t abandon your old life, without even an explanation.

Azul understood that, he truly did. So he used the last moments he still had with you to give you an experience you could never forget, so you could never forget him. At least Azul could let you go without regrets.

But still, on the night of your departure, muffled cries could be heard through the walls of the merman’s bedroom. He thought he could put on a brave face for you as you made your way to the mirror, but he still had tears left to shed as your figure finally disappeared from his sight, out of his reach.

It took so long for him to change his routine since you left. He had to squash that yearning part of himself that kept hoping you would suddenly walk through the doors of Mostro Lounge and give him that warm smile that melts his stress away.

Sometimes he wakes up, reaching out to your warmth on his bed only to see the vacant space in his too-large bed. For a creature from the icy waters, he felt so unbearingly cold since your departure.

The fateful reunion

He was almost over you, ready to move on with his life after 2 years since your farewell. He was off to complete his independent study for his final year when he heard news of the Dark Mirror lighting up one random day and a mysterious figure fell out from its glass.

When he returned to the campus, Azul had to weave your old friends and other curious students around you in your old Ramshackle dorm, but when your eyes met his, his eyes lit up as though it finally came to life once more. You looked a little older and all the more beautiful, Azul almost fell to his knees in disbelief.

Nervously, you walked towards your former lover with a glint of fear in your eyes. 2 years may not mean much in the long run but it was still plenty for the merman to forget you, a piece of his life perhaps best left behind. But still, lost in his blue eyes, as deep as the ocean he hails from, you whispered the thoughts you had the moment you stepped back into your world.

“I missed you, Azul.”

Swift as a wave, strong arms wrapped around you as you pulled into an ever-familiar embrace. Soft curls tickled your face as the bespectacled man pressed his face into your shoulder. Despite being hidden away from watching eyes, you could hear his sniffles as he cried in the comfort of your arms.

But you soon joined him as the rush of emotions rushed within you, your control crumbling apart when you heard the soft plea Azul whispered into your skin, words he kept locked away all these years.

“Please…don’t leave me.”

You were like him in a way. Trapped in a situation you didn’t decide yourself, forced to adapt and live with the cards given to you. To put aside your feelings of helplessness and laugh, like a smiling genie stuck confined to a tiny lamp.

What was first pity became a bond from a kinship to an affectionate fondness for one another. The two of you even joked about traveling the world some day, just to give each other that chance to feel free together.

But by chance Crowley found a way for you to return home, a choice to free yourself from your bizarre predicament. Suddenly, Jamil felt even lonelier than he has ever thought possible.

Then, Jamil couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Of course, anything that he desired could never be his. What was he thinking? He should have known something as amazing as you was too good to be true.

An expert liar, he congratulated you on such a fortuitous event. He wore his well-crafted smile as he told you how glad he was for you to return home, to gain the freedom the two of you dreamed of.

A man trained as a servant, Jamil knew how to push down his selfish thoughts, even when you knew that he wasn’t being truthful with his words.

Great Sevens, he loved you for knowing him so well. He loved you so much that he convinced you to go home, as no one knew if such an opportunity would ever come again. This time, he was truly happy to ignore his selfish desires, if it’s for you.

But even Kalim, for as oblivious as he can be sometimes, knew to leave Jamil alone in his room that day when he shared one last kiss with you before you disappeared behind the magical mirror.

The fateful reunion

It’s been 2 years since Jamil and Kalim graduated from Night Raven College, 5 years since either of them saw you since your departure, since he last felt whole.

The first few years, Kalim tried to cheer his childhood friend, offering words of comfort and even hoped that perhaps you would return someday. You magically came here before, who’s to say it won’t happen again?

The well-meaning Asim heir only stopped mentioning you when Jamil lost his composure one night, screaming at him to stop making him hope for something so impossible. To Jamil, what hurts him more than you leaving him was losing hope that you could come back someday.

Since that day, Kalim did his best not to mention your name near the long-haired man in fear of opening old wounds.

Which is why Jamil was confused when the snow-haired heir called him during his overseas trip, urging him to return to Silk City immediately.

“Jamil, you gotta come back! It happened!”

Jamil’s heart beat hard against his chest, the long buried hope he tried to crush came back, fueling his body to run towards the fastest route back to his hometown. His pessimistic logic demanded him to lower his expectations but that childish longing in him begged him to run faster.

There, inside the Asim family’s large room, you stood there in the middle of the room surrounded by lavish walls and decor. The room was filled with luxurious ornaments and bright colors, but Jamil could only see you and your beautiful face with eyes as mesmerizing as he remembered in his dreams.

“Jamil…I-“

Before you could fully speak, the usually collected man ran to you without restraint as he encased you in his arms, as though he feared this to be a cruel mirage. His selfishness bled through as he held you closer than he ever had with anyone, his racing heart could be felt between you two.

“I missed you, habibti.”

Being with Sebek was like an adventure. A man with such vigor and determination towards life gave you the motivation to go through this strange new world the same way. You didn’t know if you could never return home but what good was it to give up on being happy?

What started off as admiration turned to fondness, then after an awkward period of confusing feelings, the two of you started a meaningful relationship. Sebek was insistent on formally courting you with the intentions of marrying you, but you told him you’d marry him with a paper ring. Sebek expressed feelings of indignation but the flush of his ears said otherwise.

But hidden in old fae books locked away in the royal libraries, Lilia found stories of people who came to this world seemingly the same way as you…with a way to send you back. It would have been impossible to gather enough magical energy to return you to your original world, but Malleus was the only one capable of accomplishing this feat. For his dear friend and his trusted guard’s beloved, he would gladly do this grand favor.

How…fortunate you are.

Sebek was stunned silent over this revelation. He should be happy, shouldn’t he? Despite your smiles and laughs, he knew the days where you would look out in a daze, lost in your feelings of homesickness. He told himself that he would give you everything if he could, no matter the pain it may occur to him…

Malleus gave the two of you time to discuss amongst yourselves and you could see your green-haired lover mentally fighting with himself. That was fair, you too were emotionally split over this information.

With a heavy heart, Sebek chose to let you go. He feared that if he were to speak his desires, someday you would grow to resent him for holding onto you. You told him otherwise but all of your arguments lead to the same conclusion, you needed to return home.

With tear-filled eyes, Sebek watched as you were engulfed with his liege’s magic, a blinding glow wrapping around you like a chrysalis. Though he denies it, he was grateful for Silver’s comforting hand on his shoulder as he broke down to his knees, a burning pain in his chest and the stinging of his tears cascading down his face.

The fateful reunion

The years were good to him, after 10 years he became what he always dreamed to be, a recognized guard of the royal family, under his magnanimous king.

With the advice of Lilia, the grown half-fae decided to keep a journal with records of his accomplishments and struggles, everything he wished he could tell you. Perhaps in hopes that he could one day share his life with you, or perhaps simply a way to keep his spirits up since your departure.

Sebek is not usually the one to dwell too much in the past, rather the type to look towards the future. But on occasion, he catches himself lost in his thoughts over his moments with you whenever he comes across something that reminds him of you, which were a lot of things.

He tried to kick this habit, as it was troubling for a guard to get so easily distracted, especially if he was meant to guard his king with his life. Eventhough Malleus, Lilia, and Silver were understanding over his situation, Sebek chastised his unprofessional behavior.

Even now, he was angry with himself when he sees a mysterious figure walking towards him at the castle’s gate under this heavy downpour. For a moment, he froze over how familiar this figure was, who walked uncannily similarly to the way you did, long ago.

Shaking this thought away, Sebek demanded this suspicious figure to stop before stepping any closer to the castle’s gate.

“Reveal yourself! Lest you prepare to meet my spear!”

“Sebek?”

Your voice struck him like lightning, stunned him in his post as flashes of the past rushed through him. You cautiously stepped closer, Sebek finally able to see your face under the castle’s lights. Like him, you grew considerably since he last saw you, but still as enchanting as that fateful day, even when you were drenched in the pouring weather.

With a whisper of your name, Sebek unceremoniously tossed his weapon to the muddy ground as he forsaken his position to run to you. Closing you in his arms, he could smell that comforting scent of you even in the drenching rain. Your warm body soothed his own as he shared a deep kiss with you under the rain, a decade of his longing finally rushing out in this unbelievable miracle that was you.

“I missed you, for so long.”

Jade was certainly curious about you. You reminded him of an old famous tale in his hometown, of a young mermaid who found herself in a world that was nothing like her own. He found amusement in you as you gasped and floundered over the myriad of magical possibilities that were a mere commodity in Twisted Wonderland. How adorable you were, he thought.

Fascination replaced curiosity and soon infatuation came into play. Eventually, Jade has come to enjoy your company more than anyone else’s, and he had to maintain a steady smile when you confessed your mutual feelings for him.

But when the Dark Mirror announced that a portal to your world has opened once more, he found difficulty in keeping his practiced smile. His otherworldly lover has a chance to return home, leaving him behind.

The eel merman was grateful for your attempts to comfort him, telling him that you could refuse this offer. You entertained the thought that perhaps the portal will appear once more at a later date, to diminish the significance of this opportune chance.

But Jade is no fool, he never was. No matter how happy you were with him, he recognises the wistful looks when a reminder of your old world is brought up. While he revels in the stories you joyfully regaled him of your past, he can hear the soft sighs under your breath and the melancholic smile upon your lips.

What was that phrase land-dwellers are so fond of? “If you love something, set it free.”

Jade never knew he could love someone as much he did with you, he didn't think he would ever do this for anyone. How amazing you are, it seems.

Jade loved you enough to let you go. He loved you enough to hold you as you cried through your broken goodbyes. He loved you just enough to finally let go of your hand as your figure disappeared into the magical glass.

And Floyd and Azul loved him enough to delegate his vice housewarden duties as he holed himself in his terraturim collection for days after your departure.

The fateful reunion

1 year has passed and while there have been some changes, there are things that stayed the same. Though now third years, Jade maintained his position as Octavinelle’s vice housewarden, by Azul’s side.

As such, his presence was appreciated in the Hall of Mirrors as new students filled the room, anxiously waiting for their dorm sorting. While this was a grand occasion for many young mages, Jade doubts that anything can outdo the unorthodox events that happened a year ago, when you appeared.

He couldn’t help but chuckled to himself when he recalled the ruckus you and Grim made, the reckless beast yelling out such amusing things.

“MY HENCHHUMAN IS BACK!”

Oh my, speak of the devil.

Grim, much stronger than he was before, burst through the heavy doors as he ran about with fat tears soaking the fur on his face. The notorious Heartslabyul duo tried to grab hold of the rambunctious creature but nothing could quell the ball of fur.

Hasty footsteps were heard as a figure came rushing in soon after, seemingly chasing the bawling Grim. Upon your appearance, the row of gasps and shouts echoed through the room, specifically from the older students and the faculty.

Jade felt a rush of emotion crashing into him. As a desperate measure, he tried to forget your face lest he wished to stay haunted by your image through restless nights. But there you stood looking as beautiful as the day he lost you.

Cautiously, he walked towards you like a wary eel. If this was a cruel trick, he will not be merciful towards anyone who believes they can play with a Leech’s heart.

But when your gaze matched his, he felt the world start once more, as though it fell to a stop the moment you disappeared. Your expressive eyes were the same beautiful sight he fell in love with, even when lined with building tears.

“Jade,” you whispered in disbelief. “I missed you so much”

With quick movement, Jade pulled you into him as he engulfed himself in the joy he’s feeling. Your touch, your voice, your scent, it’s all back.

What was that phrase land-dwellers are so fond of? “If it returns, it was meant to be.”

[tinytinyblogs]

Are you defying me, darling?

The more you distance yourself, the closer they might become. Take it slow if you're unsure.

⚠️ yandere theme, unhealthy obsession, and a lot more⚠️

Hyung line, Maknae line

stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

The words tore out of you, a torrent of pent-up frustration. You screamed at Han, demanding he just leave you alone. The air crackled with the raw emotion, and for a horrifying moment, he did freeze. His eyes, usually holding a gentle warmth, were wide and vacant, a reflection of the shattered world you hadn't meant to create. Here's the thing: Han craved control. He wasn't some villain, not in the traditional sense. He just wanted his perfect world, one where everything unfolded like a meticulously planned story with a happily-ever-after starring you both. But your outburst, that desperate plea for space, had ripped a hole in the tapestry of his delusion. This wasn't part of the script. The unease that had always simmered beneath the surface, a constant low hum whenever things deviated from his ideal, flared into a roaring inferno. He spent the night tossing and turning, the echo of your words carving a canyon in his sanity. He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't. But to keep you, he concluded, the "soft" Han wouldn't suffice. The next day, the man who stood before you was a chilling stranger. The gentle affection in his eyes was replaced by a steely glint.

He wasn't asking anymore. Demands, laced with a terrifying desperation, spilled from his lips. He became a constant, suffocating presence. He wouldn't let you out of his sight, wouldn't tolerate an argument, wouldn't even acknowledge the dawning fear in your eyes. This wasn't the love you craved, it was a twisted obsession, a warped interpretation of your outburst as a sign of weakness, a need for him to become the 'monster' he believed he needed to be to keep you by his side. His voice dropped to a sinister whisper as he stared into your eyes, a predator sizing up its prey. "Look at me, darling," he commanded, the term dripping with mockery. He paused, letting the silence tighten its grip around you. "This whole charade? It's under my control. You have no say in it." His hand reached up, a single finger gently tracing your jawline, sending a jolt of fear through you. "Don't even think about defying me again. Leaving isn't an option. Ever. Get that through that pretty little head of yours. Now." His voice hardened with a barely contained rage. "Because next time, darling, the scream will stay trapped inside."

Felix

He sighed, a sound that seemed to scrape against your nerves. "Look," he started, his voice deceptively calm, "I might have let the first thing slide. Maybe even the second. But this? This is pushing it, love." A thin smile played on his lips, but it never reached his eyes. They remained cold, devoid of the warmth you were used to. Disappointment gnawed at you. You'd always thought him different, the one person you could rely on to be gentle, understanding. Now, faced with his steely gaze and the way he kept inching closer, you realized how wrong you'd been. "Being the good guy all the time," he continued, his voice low and dangerous, "it gets old, doesn't it?" He stopped just a hair's breadth away, towering over you. Your back hit the wall with a thud, the trapped feeling mirroring the growing panic in your chest. "Especially," he leaned in further, his breath hot against your ear, "when the person you're being good for doesn't seem to appreciate it." A single finger grazed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. "You made a mistake, love," he murmured, his voice a silken threat. "Let's hope you learn from it."

Looking into his eyes, you saw a storm brewing within. A storm you never knew existed, a monster you never wanted to see unleashed. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the terrifying image before you. You'd never seen him like this – his voice, usually warm and melodic, was a low growl, his hands, normally gentle, were clenched into fists. This wasn't the Felix you knew. This was a stranger, fueled by a rage so potent, it choked the air from the room. The weight of your mistake settled on your shoulders like a physical burden. You hadn't meant to push him, to awaken this monstrous side. But the damage was done. His anger, a white-hot inferno, was directed solely at you. His words, usually laced with playful teasing, became barbed weapons. He lashed out, not physically, but his every utterance felt like a blow, tearing down the foundation of your trust. He paced the room, a caged animal seeking an escape that wasn't there. Each movement seemed to shake the room, each breath a gust of wind that threatened to extinguish the fragile flame of hope flickering within you. The lingering ache of bruises, the sting of dried tears - these were the haunting echoes of a moment you swore to never relieve.

Seungmin

The air crackled with a sudden tension you hadn't anticipated. A single, sharp laugh escaped Seungmin's lips, devoid of any humor. "No," he spat, his voice laced with ice. "Don't even think about it." The playful glint in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a cold fury that sent shivers down your spine. How dare you? You, his darling, to utter such a word – 'leave'? The audacity of it burned in his gaze. Respect was paramount to Seungmin, and your flippant demand was a blatant insult. "Jerk?" he echoed, the word dripping with dangerous venom. "That's a cute term for someone who forgets their place." He took a menacing step closer, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over you. "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, darling." His voice dipped to a low growl, sending a primal jolt of fear through you. "There are things I can do," he continued, his words slow and deliberate, "things you wouldn't even dare to imagine. And you, my love," he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "will learn exactly what happens when you disrespect me." A cruel smile played on his lips, a terrifying reminder of the power he held over you. This wasn't the Seungmin you knew, the charming and attentive boyfriend.

This was a predator, baring his fangs, and you were caught firmly in his sights. The playful facade had shattered, revealing a darkness you could only begin to comprehend. Suddenly, he tilted his head, a gesture that sent a fresh wave of panic through you. "Perhaps," he began, his voice low and silken, "a little reminder is in order." He took another step closer, the space between you shrinking with each calculated move. Your back hit the wall with a thud, the trapped feeling mirroring the growing terror in your chest. He reached out, a single finger tracing the delicate skin of your wrist. "Let's see," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "how long it takes you to change your tune once you understand the consequences." A sharp sting echoed through the room as his fingernail dug into your flesh, drawing a gasp and a tear. It wasn't the pain, though it was agonizing, that made you flinch. It was the cold emptiness in his eyes, devoid of the love or concern you were used to. This single, calculated act shattered your resistance. Tears streamed down your face, hot and uncontrolled. "Seungmin, please," you choked out, your voice thick with fear and regret. "I didn't mean it, I..." His finger remained in place, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Didn't mean what, darling?" he taunted, tilting his head to listen. "Speak clearly. I wouldn't want any misunderstandings."

Jeongin

Jeongin wasn't known for his temper, but the way his smile stretched a little too wide, a little too manic, sent a jolt of terror through you. You'd never seen him like this – his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, now held a glint of chilling obsession. "Obsessed?" he echoed your words, his voice a sickeningly sweet drawl. "Perhaps that's a bit dramatic, wouldn't you say?" He took a menacing step closer, the air around him crackling with a dark energy you'd never felt before. "But let's get one thing straight," he continued, his voice dropping to a low growl. "That little outburst of yours? It wasn't cute. Not. One. Bit." He circled you like a predator stalking its prey, his smile morphing into a grotesque parody of amusement. "You see, darling," he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "I find your defiance… intriguing. A challenge, even." A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. "You think you can scream at me, tell me what to do? Think again." He straightened, his smile widening as he threw his head back and let out a chilling laugh. The sound echoed through the room, devoid of any warmth or joy, sending shivers down your spine. "This," he gestured around wildly, "isn't ending, sweetheart. This is just the beginning."

Jeongin straightened fully, the manic glint in his eyes replaced by a chilling calmness. His hand dipped into his pocket, emerging with a glint of silver – a small pocket knife, its blade catching the light with a predatory gleam. The playful facade had vanished completely. In its place stood a stranger, a predator with a dangerous glint in his eye. The air grew thick with a suffocating silence, broken only by the shallow rasp of your breath. "Since you seem to have forgotten your place," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, a chilling monotone that sent shivers down your spine, "perhaps a little reminder is in order." He took another deliberate step closer, the knife held loosely in his hand, the tip pointed demonstratively at the floor. You backed away instinctively, the wall stopping your retreat. Jeongin didn't seem fazed. He circled you slowly, the knife a constant, menacing presence. His gaze flickered from your face down to your trembling hands, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You will learn," he continued, his voice low and menacing, "exactly what happens when you defy me." The playful pet names and teasing had been replaced by a cold, calculated cruelty. This wasn't the Jeongin you knew, the playful boy who made you laugh. This was a monster you'd unwittingly unleashed with your harsh words.

[igot-sarang-ggg]

Jolyne's Teacher pt.4 (Teacher reader x Jotaro)

Chapter 4- Monday

Chapter 3- Coffee | Masterlist | Chapter 5- Friday

Small Summary of series: It's a new school year, you're a third grade teacher at an elementary school in Florida with Jolyne Cujoh being in your class.

"Dad is it necessary for me to go to school today? Ms. L/n isn't gonna be here." I brushed Jolyne's hair styling it the best I could. "You need to go. School is very important Jolyne." She crossed her arms pouting, "I hate it!" I smiled at her, kissing the top of her head, "I know but you just gotta go..." I finished her hair, "How does it look?" I handed her the mirror, she smiled brightly looking at herself in the mirror. "I love it dad!" She kissed my cheek hugging me tightly, "Glad you like it. Come on we have to get going." 

I dropped off Jolyne at school and headed towards that cafe Ms. L/n showed me. I don't start work until later, so why not enjoy some tea in the meantime. I sat down at a table nearby reading some work files. Someone taped my shoulder, "Mr. Kujo, it's nice to see you again." It was Ms. L/n. "Nice to see you too. What brings you here this early? Jolyne said you had the day off?" Placing the papers back in the folder I  singled her to sit down at the vacant sit in front of me. She sat down with a drink in her hand, "I did but I couldn't sleep in... Might as well start the day early with some coffee." She smiled taking a sip of her drink. "Mm," she cleared her throat, "Has Jolyne told you about the parent teacher meeting on friday?"

"Meeting? Did something happen?" I questioned her. I was worried Jolyne might have done something. She Chuckled, "Jolyne isn't in any trouble, if that's what you're worried. It's just a group meeting after school to discuss some field trips, chaperone, class activities, and other stuff." 

Jolyne never mentioned it to me, I looked at Y/n who was stirring her drink. "No she hasn't told me... Is it a mandatory thing?" I asked her. "No, it's not mandatory to attend." She looked at me, her eyes were saying otherwise like she was begging or waiting me to go. I looked away grabbing at the tip of my hat covering my face a bit, "Geez... I'll see if I can go." She smiled at me, and then looked at her watch.

 "I have to get going, it was nice you seeing again Mr. Kujo," Y/n stood from her seat, I didn't notice till now but she was wearing these tight leggings that hugged her legs and thighs just right and a sports bra covered with a sweater that was barely zipped up, I guess she was going to the gym or for a run. She placed her hand in front of me, I took it; soon realizing how small her hands were compared to mine. "It was nice seeing you, too." She smiled, "I hope to see you again on Friday after school." And like that she left. 

 I focused on the paperwork I was previously looking at before Y/n showed up. As I looked at them I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched, I can still feel that same presence from the first time I met with Y/n here. Could she have some sort of stand? Or maybe someone here is a stand user? It can't be... This looks like some old Cuban cafe...

But yet it could be possible

I grabbed my things and headed out. I rather work at the office I don't want to find out if there's a stand user here.

Sometime later

I waited outside the schools pick up area waiting for Jolyne. "Mr. Kujo!" Someone called out for me. I looked over to see a women that looked about my age. She approached reaching out her hand, "I'm Ms. Jones was a substitute for your daughters class today." I shook her hand, "It's nice to meet. I believe we met once if I'm not mistaken." I tried to pull away my hand but she still had a grip on it, "I'm sorry." She pulled away and smiled at me. I've never felt uncomfortable meeting someone before, but she really did give off a weird vibe. I just hope Jolyne comes out soon.

 "Dad!!!" Jolyne came running towards me; I bent down to her height embracing her in a hug. "Hey Jolyne, how was school?" I pulled her closer whispering in her ear, "Plan twenty." I pulled away standing.

 "School was good. Let's go! You said you would take me to park after school." She started tugging at my arm pulling me away from her substitute teacher, "Lets go!" I laughed at her, "Okay, I'm going." We walked over to the car and got in. "What happened dad? Why did you ask me to use plan twenty?" She asked, I started the car and drive off, "That substitute teacher of yours was... Was a bit odd." Plan twenty was something I came up with due to people making me feel uncomfortable and if Jolyne feels uncomfortable around someone she also uses that code so we both know when to go or come up with an excuse to leave. "Ms. Jones is a little weird." I looked at Jolyne she was looking at her hands, "Dad?" 

 "Hmm?" 

 "Does Ms. L/n make you wanna use plan twenty? Michel said he saw you and Ms. L/ n at a cafe shop on Saturday." An image her showing up at our doorsteps came to mind the shy look she gave me when I opened the door, "So far she doesn't... You're teacher Ms. L/n seems like a good person."

 "Am I still grounded?"

 "We can go to the park for an hour but that's it."

Series Masterlist

[waytoomanyhobbies]

Hi! What’s a song that makes you think of your favorite character or ship from Bob’s Burgers?

@babsvibes

Lol. Well, I already told you the other day how Too Sweet by Hozier makes me think of Logan being Louise's neat whiskey in your:

But I wanna shake things up with two songs that aren't fic dependent but instead make me think of Louigan after reuniting in their 30s and getting together–one would be what they say is their song and the other is their song in private.

Usually, with rivals to lovers ships folks go straight to all the "I hate you, but I love you" tunes. Instead, I want to lean into the way that Logan and Louise are foils who, despite their differences, are actually quite alike.

So the first song is another Hozier tune... From Eden. That's the one they would tell people was their song. Both characters have a history of identifying with criminals, outlaws, etc. So the serpent in the garden is a natural.

The following section, in particular, hits the mark for me:

Babe There's something lonesome about you Something so wholesome about you Get closer to me No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

In the context of Louigan, the verse would be them each recognizing the other's hidden softer side. The pre-chorus would be a longing to cut through their facades of indifference and them expressing their insecurities about if the other really wasn't interested. Finally, the chorus in this context is the recognition of seeing themselves in one another (hence, how they recognized one another's softer sides) as well as the type of baggage they could accrue in the decades before they reunited. They're just both lying in wait to tempt the other. There wouldn't be any "other man" (like in the verse about Adam ) when they reunite, but any time someone asks how they got together, they make up a different outrageous story. Like an anthology episode.

That brings us to Louise and Logan's secret song, the one they would cuddle and canoodle to–but vehemently deny in public. Mirrors by Justin Timberlake.

I don't wanna lose you now I'm lookin' right at the other half of me The vacancy that sat in my heart Is a space that now you hold Show me how to fight for now And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy Comin' back here to you once I figured it out You were right here all along It's like you're my mirror My mirror staring back at me I couldn't get any bigger With anyone else beside me And now it's clear as this promise That we're making Two reflections into one Cause it's like you're my mirror My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me

I mean we have this girl:

A girl who knows every lyric that Boo Boo and Boys 4 Now ever sang.

And she's paired with this boy:

A boy who gets super emotional over Freaky Friday and its messages about love and acceptance.

Together, they would secretly enjoy the most poppy, peppy songs about true love and finding your other half–the person who gets that part of you that others don't understand or find too extreme for comfort. That's a kind of understanding and acceptance Louise seems to yearn for from Spiderhouse Rules, and it matches Logan's vibe from Mother Daughter Laser Razor beautifully.

I can picture the two of them cuddling to the song:

Louise: "I swear, if you ever tell anyone this is really our song, I will gut punch you!"

Logan (laughing): "Hey! I have a reputation to protect too, you know?"

Louise (snorts:) "If you say so."

Logan: "Besides, I know you're too chicken to dance to this at the wedding reception..."

Louise (warning): "Logan."

Logan: "And since when is big spoon supposed to be threatening little spoon? You're supposed to be making me feel safe and cherished."

Louise (hugging him tighter): "Fine. If the leftover pizza starts threatening you, I've got my bow and arrows in the closet."

Logan: "Thank you."

[adminbryantsaki]

Star Anise

Alpha! Shouta Aizawa X Omega! Reader

(I do not own My Hero Academia or the characters within. Anything associated with that fandom belongs to Horikoshi Kohei. This story belongs to my 2023 Spice-tober collection. I hope you enjoy. If this story isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices, or brew of coffee move on. Reader discretion is advised.)

(I was inspired for this story from this tiktok I saw: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8jqGh2D/ I don’t own it. the person who created it did.)

TW: A/B/O, Sex scene, biting.

WC: 2,037.

Fall Masquerade theme. A ball to welcome in the season at a nearby mansion. You wear a lovely dress made to look like the leaves changing color outside on the trees. The ballroom is decorated to look like an enchanted forest, having spooky shades of purple and blue. There is an alpha there that catches your eye as you get a refreshment of some hot spiced cider from the table laden with many wonderful fall treats. He sees you as well and approaches you at the refreshment table. He asks for you to go outside for some fresh air. The two of you walk along a lantern-lit path that has a bridge that goes over a river. When the two of you go back inside, the two of you manage to sneak away to one of the other vacant rooms in the mansion where the two of you make love.

You flattened out the skirt of your dress and adjusted the mask you wore on your face. You had been invited to a ball at a nearby mansion to welcome in the autumn season since you were one of the unmatched Omegas in a noble family that lived close to the mansion. One of your ladies in waiting helped tighten up the corset to your dress before looking at your appearance in the mirror. “You look lovely, my lady. I hope you will have a good time tonight. Maybe find yourself a dashing Alpha that would sweep you off your feet?” They suggested with a giggle. “You know very well, Sarah, that this is a ball to welcome in the autumn season and have a good time. But it would be nice to meet up with an Alpha that doesn’t treat me like an object or some prize to be won.” You responded while slipping your shoes on and grabbing your clutch before heading downstairs as your carriage had arrived.

You climbed in and watched as the carriage rolled on by down the road and up to the mansion, watching as the lights and decorations of the mansion came clearer into view, it seemed like the place had been enchanted to make it seem more magical. Your eyes widened at the amount of pumpkins and candles that had been placed around the gardens and courtyards to give the place a more spooky yet autumnal feel. Your carriage stopped and a footman helped you out of your carriage and wished you to have a nice evening as you followed the small crowd of young men and women who were making their way inside. You take in the environment, enjoying the enchanting, yet spooky vibe of the place. The scent of warmed apple cider wafted over to your nostrils, making you inhale the wonderous scent and you followed the smell to the refreshment table that was filled with many fall treats. You saw spiced apple cider, pumpkin hand pies, spice cake, pumpkin ale, pumpkin cider, and apple hand pies. You picked up a mug of spiced apple cider to your lips and took a sip of the warming drink. You let the drink warm you all throughout your body when you were approached by one of the Alphas that was attending the ball. You couldn’t tell who he was because of the mask he was wearing that had been adorned in leaves and bits of metal to accent it. All you could see was his dark brown eyes staring right into yours. “Hello there, my name is Shouta Aizawa, what’s your name?” He asked.

“Oh, hello, I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You spoke as you sipped at the cider, draining the mug, and setting it back on the table. You finally Music in the hall began to pick up and Shouta looked to you and offered his hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?” He asked. You agreed and took his hand and followed him out onto the dance floor. He placed his hand on your waist and led you through a waltz to the beat of the music. You let him lead you throughout the dance while you kept eye contact with him. When the dance was over, Shouta led you off to the side, near one of the doors that would lead to the outside, over one of the various paths in the woods surrounding the mansion.

“Want to get out of here?” He asked, a smile playing across his lips as he held your hands in his. “Sure, but where would we go?” You asked. “Outside. I heard that many of the paths in the forest had been enchanted and decorated to match the theme here in the mansion.” He told you. “Let’s go then!” You told him and he led you out a pair of doors and onto a magnificent balcony where a few couples were also catching some fresh air. Shouta led you to the railing of the balcony and showed you the different entrances to the paths leading into the forest. “Pick one and we will go explore it.” He told you. You picked one that had lanterns and pointed to it. He took your hand and led you down a set of steps and up to the path.  He offered you his arm and you took it, walking together down the path, eventually approaching a bridge that the two of you walked over and stopped near the middle. You looked over into the lake and watched as some fish darted about under the surface of the water. You looked over at Shouta and he was watching you enjoy the creatures in the lake. You smiled and looked back at him. He held your hand and pulled you close. “I know that we just met, but I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.” He spoke.

“I’m one of the daughters of a nobleman that lives on the mansion owner’s land.  A lot of people know me. We might have met before at another one of these balls. But now that you know me, who are you?” You asked. “I’d rather not tell, but I will anyways. I’m the owner of the mansion and the one that threw this party. I love the fall season and I wanted to welcome it in with all the people around me. I also wanted the opportunity to find myself a mate as I do not have one yet. I’d prefer an Omega as I’m an Alpha but I’ll take what I can at this point.” He spoke Your eyes widened and you looked surprised. “You’re the mansion owner? I never would have thought so. I thought you to be a lord of one of the properties in the area.” You responded. “It is true. I don’t mean to seem forward, but what is your dynamic?” He asked. “Oh! I’m an Omega. Sorry I didn’t say so earlier.” You spoke, then you realized what you said.

“You’re looking for a mate and I’m here and I just told you that I’m an Omega. There’s about a hundred Omegas here that you could pick from, why pick me?” You asked as you paced the path on the bridge before looking at him. “You’re nice, you let me dance with you, and you didn’t judge me for being the owner of the mansion.” He spoke with a smile. “The question now is if you’re not already mated yourself. Are you mated to someone, Y/n?” “No, I’m not mated. I am looking, even though I didn’t plan on finding a mate tonight.” You told him. He took your hands in his and looked you in the eyes. “I’d like to make you my mate, if you’d allow me.” He spoke. “I’d love to be your mate. Where could we be alone so you could mark me?” You spoke. Shouta smirked and led you back into the mansion, sneaking in through a back door and up a couple flights of stairs until the two of you were in front of one of the bedrooms.

“This is my room. We can mark each other in here, how does that sound?” He asked. You nodded in response and he led you inside as you let out a giggle. He told you to be quiet and he began stripping out of his suit. You sat on the bed in awe. He let the fabric of his ivory-colored undershirt drop to the floor and he faced you, wearing only his dark brown pants that had been embroidered with a deep gold and orange in the shapes of leaves. The strong scent of star anise and cinnamon filled the air and you could only guess that the scent was coming from him. He walked closer to you and he bent over to give you a long, sweet kiss which made your insides melt.   

He moved closer and laid you back on the bed as he explored your neck and shoulders, pulling the fabric of your slip off your body in a rushed manner, as if he couldn’t wait any longer to claim you as his own. He tossed the slip of to one of the far corners of the room before kissing you deeply and pulling back to look into your eyes as you moved back up on the bed a bit farther so you wouldn’t hurt yourself while he fucked you senseless.

“Ready to be mine?” He asked. You nodded and watched as his mating fangs grew a bit longer and he went to your neck, biting down on your soft flesh and letting out a moan. You let him slide between your thighs and thrust into you, sinking his cock deep into your slick-ridden hole, letting the knot enter you with a wet ‘pop.’ You moaned out even more as you felt stretched out but in a good way. He was still for a moment to let the both of you adjust to the new sensation the both of you were feeling.  He began to thrust at an even pace, as the noise of skin slapping skin filled the room along with the moans coming from you and your new mate. He pulled away from marking you and watched as his mark formed in your neck, a crescent moon with some stars next to it all within a circle healing over in a type of scar.  He smirked and kept thrusting into you, getting closer and closer with each thrust. You held onto him and entangles your fingers into his dark locks, telling him to keep going as you were close as well. Soon, the two of you reached your climax and he released his seed deep into your womb, emptying his knot and waiting a moment before pulling out of you, and laying next to you. “I love you, Y/n. Thank you for being my mate.” He told you. “Thank you for picking me as your mate. You know that you could have picked any one of the other Omegas in the whole party.” “But I picked you. You caught my eye and you were also one of the only Omegas in the room that didn’t have an Alpha sticking close to them.” He told you and held your hand as he laid on his side looking at you.

“You’re right.” You responded. “Do you want to mark me? It’s okay if you want to.” He offered. You nodded and put your mark on his neck. Then the two of you crawled under the covers with a laugh and looked out the window at the stars twinkling above before falling asleep in each other's arms.

The end.

[molagboop]

Long time no model post. Last time I did this, the image limit was 10. Now I am bound by no such constraints. Let's take a look at a statue from Ferenia. Specifically, chozosancstatuebig02mirror.

I'll preface this by saying I haven't done anything to make the textures look more like they may in-game (e.g.: making the gold portions look more metallic).

What we're looking at is a black and gold statue depicting a kneeling Mawkin warrior wearing a red cape. It holds a soldier's spear in its left hand, and its right hand is enclosed in a fist, touching the ground.

This statue appears in Escue's arena alongside two other statues: chozosancstatuebig02 (left) and chozosancstatuebig01 (center). chozosancstatuebig02mirror and chozosancstatuebig02 are identical, except the mirrored version is just that: flipped. sancstatuebig02 is kneeling on the left knee, and sancstatuebig02mirrored has its right knee touching the ground.

The subject of today's post is on the right-hand side of the above screenshot. We take a closer look at it beneath the cut, reaping the full advantage of Tumblr's spankin' new (several months-old now) 30 image limit.

The model is comprised of two meshes: the cape and the statue. It has no bones, as expected of a prop, and the textures are pretty low res because it's a background element that's not intended to be seen up close. This helps the developers save space on the cartridge, and the game doesn't have to render super detailed textures that you're never going to scrutinize in-game (at least not very closely).

I've removed the cape to examine the whole statue. It's modeled in full: unlike some larger props (and some NPCs: see Quiet Robe's chest), there is no vacant hole beneath the cape.

As you might have expected by looking at it during gameplay, its design doesn't deviate terribly from the Chozo Soldier NPCs. It's like someone posed a soldier, removed its bones, changed the colors, and crunchified the textures.

I gotta say, I appreciate the Mawkin's dedication to realism with this one. Some of their statues are styled or have a lot of edges and fancy details, but this is just a guy.

If I may be a nerd for a minute or two, it seems like this one embodies values that a warrior tribe may hold dear: gravity, duty, humility. In the boss room, two kneeling statues flank a standing warrior draped in cloth.

We're not given any context as to who they are or what exactly this represents, but the standing warrior in the center of the arrangement appears to be a figure of some renown: like a decorated officer flanked by a selection of solemn warriors. The Mawkin are warriors: their army seems to be a large part of their culture. Respect for one's betters, the act of honoring someone who stands out for their exceptional martial prowess: that's what I think of when I look at this.

I don't know who this is, but the arrangement gives off military ceremony vibes. According to "Adam", Ferenia is a temple complex, and the site of many ceremonies. Maybe one was held here.

The concept art shown here is from page 103 of the Metroid Mission Logs. The first image is on the top half of the page, the second is near the bottom. I can appreciate that they gave us two versions: the dramatic lighting in the second version is stunning, but I also like being able to see the room under more neutral light.

That's enough out of me. Here are some close-ups of the spearhead.

I tried to capture the detail in the front of the blade, crunchy as the textures may be. There are three pointed grooves in the center of the blade's front.

It doesn't appear any different from the... "living" soldier's spears.

The cape's going back on so I can talk about it.

The cloth rests just above the base of the neck, draped over the area behind the shoulders and falling over the back. The right foot is clipping through the back of the cape (from the leg with the knee on the ground), but that's a secret between us and the developers: you never see this during play.

I wanted to paint a better picture of where the breastplate ends and the cloth begins, so I took a few more shots.

You thought we were doing one statue today? No! We're also looking at chozosancstatuebig01.

This one also possesses two meshes, and they're the same as the last one: a cape and the rest of the statue.

As previously stated, this one differs from its companions in that it's standing instead of kneeling. The cloth is draped over its front instead of its back, but it doesn't wrap around the whole of the figure. It also appears tattered, like there's supposed to be more cloth covering the other half of the statue. The strands hanging over the left side could just be tassels or decorative drapery hanging off the main bit. Like it's wearing a cloak. Or a half-cape.

If you look at the concept art, that seems to be the case: there are gold stripes at the base of the strips, as well as at the top of the greater drape. If you look really closely at the red drape on the statue in the image above, you'll notice there may be traces of this idea left on the cloth, but they're not quite as golden as they appear in the concept art. The stripes on the tassels are hardly visible in the texture!

I wish the concept was translated with more clarity: I dig the idea of a soft, velvety, ceremonial drape with golden embroidery.

Something I find peculiar is the three circular indentations on the front of the chestplate, in the section between the concave indicators of where those red lights are on normal soldiers. There's one tiny hole on the left-hand side, and two larger holes on the right.

There are also two holes in the right bicep, a dent in the left bicep, and a big chunk taken out of the upper left leg. It stands to reason that these blemishes might be the result of long-term wear and tear: environmental damage, Silent Spear falling backwards into the arrangement like an idiot, that sort of thing. Who knows?

The blade on this one's spear is wider than the other statue's, and their construction is different, as well. The pole isn't visible halfway through the back of the blade on the other statue.

That about does it. Thanks for sticking with me, and expect more statueposting.

[screamingforyears]

IN A MINUTE: // A POST_PUNK_ISH EXPRESS… // “CITY” is the lead single/track from INSTITUTE’s forthcoming LP titled ‘Ragdoll Dance’ (10/13 @usetogiveadamnbutnevrgaveafuk @lavidaesunmus) & it finds the OG Austin-based unit of Moses, Joe, Owen & Albert subtly swaggering their way across a 2:22 clip of primitive post_punk. // “MIRROR IT” is the latest single from @luggage_chicago’s forthcoming LP titled ‘Hand is Bad’ (9/29 @amishrecords) & it finds the Chicago-based trio of Luca Cimarusti, Michael John Grant & Michael Vallera operating in their minimally astute less-is-more approach across 3 ½ mins of dizzyingly droned_out AltRock. // “ANDY” is the flip/side to @mercury_tracer X @nyxynyxmortuary’s recently released 7” & it finds the New Mexico-based artist Madeline Johnstone linking up at “our house” w/ Philly’s Brian, Tim, Alex & Ben to bring 2 ½ mins of “heaven metal” meets “psychedelic gothic punk art rock freaks learning how to play the recorder in 3rd grade” vibing. // @strandedmusic is here w/ “VACANT SPIRITS,” the latest single from their forthcoming LP titled ‘Velvet Trace’ (9/27 @greymarketrecords) & it finds multi-instrumentalist David Mansfield’s Atlanta-based project reveling in the murk ‘n the mire across a 2:20 clip of rangily goth’d out & Bunnymen-esque PsychRock. // “I65” is the lead single from @vyva_melinkolya’s forthcoming LP titled ‘Unbecoming’ (10/26) & it finds the Louisville-based vocalist/guitarist Angel Diaz stretching out across 6+ heavily hazed mins of dreamy dissonance that packs the proper amount of six-string crunch & slacker’d AltRock punch.

[kumarprakash]

Wall Clocks: A Classic Accent Piece for Any House

For decades, wall clocks have served as more than just timepieces; they have become indispensable components of interior decor. Wall clocks give a special combination of practicality and visual appeal to any living area, whether they are made with traditional analog designs or contemporary digital forms. Their presence improves a room's elegance and ambiance in addition to keeping time. Here are some reasons wall clocks are still a classic feature in any house.

1. Visual Appeal

The visual impact of wall clocks is a major factor in their popularity as home décor. Wall clocks may be used with any interior design style because they come in a variety of styles, materials, and colors. There is a clock to fit your style, whether it be minimalist, modern, rustic, or vintage. For instance, an elaborate, antique wooden clock might offer a more traditional vibe to a study or dining area, while a metal or industrial-style clock can give your living room a more modern edge. A wall clock and an extra large sunburst mirror can be combined to create a dramatic focal point that gives the space a sense of grandeur and sophistication.

2. Usability

Fundamentally, wall clocks help us keep track of time, which is a highly useful function. Keeping a schedule in today's hectic world can be greatly aided by having a visible clock in public spaces such as the living room, kitchen, or home office. A wall clock, in contrast to digital gadgets, is constantly there and simple to gaze at; it is not distracted by laptops or cellphones.

3. Flexibility in Positioning

Wall clocks are adaptable and may be used in a variety of settings due to their range of sizes. A big, eye-catching clock can be the centerpiece of a space, particularly if it's placed over a couch or fireplace. Smaller clocks are useful in restrooms, bedrooms, and corridors. They can be positioned in spots where other ornamental pieces might not be appropriate, adding both beauty and functionality to vacant walls. The clock can improve the appearance by itself or in conjunction with an extra large sunburst mirror to create a bold, dynamic look.

4. Individual Expression

Your taste and personality can be reflected in a wall clock. The clock you select says a lot about your sense of style, whether it's a playfully colorful one for a child's room or a sleek, modern clock with a minimalistic design. To increase their visual appeal, some clocks even have unusual features like chimes, pendulums, or inlay work.

In summary

Wall clocks are still a timeless option for interior design because of their ideal balance of design and utility. No matter how far technology advances, a well-positioned wall clock will always be a charming and useful addition to any house, especially when combined with an oversized sunburst mirror.

[rqnarok]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | pervy!worst wolverine x fem!reader

summary: logan and you finally resolved some tension after pining at each other for months.  

wcs/tags: smut! mdni. porn with little plot. worst wolverine!logan. fem!reader. slight dumbification. pervy!logan!!! kinda obsessed!logan. belly bulge. pining. size kink. dom!logan. sub!reader. mentions of cheating. wade is a cupid. pet names (princess, pretty, kiddo, etc). unprotected p in v. not proofread. wc: 3,3k 

In the beginning, it’s you, Logan, and Wade—watching some well-known sitcom at night, you teaching them how to bake, and going out somewhere–all platonic and casual. 

Now that Wade’s back with Vanessa, you and Logan get to spend more time just in a pair.

And it turns out not to be so casual. 

What used to be a friendly watch-together revolved to his hands on your sides as he kept you still on his lap. Wet strings of salvia appear every time both of you pull away from the kiss to catch a breath.

“Such a pretty thing.” He breathes as he pampers kisses around your collarbones, leaving little love bites he knows will make you blush the next time you look at yourself in the mirror. 

Logan thinks you’re the cutest thing he has ever seen in God knows how long. Maybe it’s because he’s a perverted old man but who can blame him? He has been lonely for a prolonged time—nothing wrong with craving a sweet treat for himself, right?

“L-Logan…” You’d mewl and whimper out his name—asking for more, “Can I suck your cock, Lo? Please—”

But no matter how hard you try, he never gives in, “Shh. No, honey. Y’re gonna hurt yourself - you don’t know how to do it. Next time, alright?’” 

So that’s it, not-so-innocent kisses as the lights are dimmed. The kisses that linger around you for the next few days. The kisses that make you wander in anguish because they remind you of his hesitancy. Was it just a casual thing for Logan?

For Logan, he knows his nights were plagued with endless nightmares that kept playing over his mistakes—he too knows that the horrific images cease to the ground in your presence. 

Always taking care of him with your sweet smiles that are merely too good for this world, too good for him.

Still, Logan could not fathom what he did to deserve having you by his side, feeding him treats as if he were a dog. Doesn’t matter because he feels like one, already. An old dog who’d gnaw at anything their master gave, an old dog who’s afraid to hurt their master—the same way that he is with you. 

Fuck. He still remembers the first time he saw you. 

The clock on the coffee table shows the time: 11 o’clock. Logan was still snoring lightly against the cushion, which smelled like the earthy-flavored beer he drank beforehand; his ears perked up at the sound of knocking on the front apartment door.   

Logan cursed under his breath as he tried to ignore the noise. Expecting whoever stands at the front door to leave him the fuck alone. Since Wade is out for the day, he hopes the apartment gives out a vacant vibe of fuck off, no one’s here.

But the knocking won’t stop. Logan had no choice apart from waking up at the fervid sound and muttered grumpily “Fuck this shit” as he composes himself to grab another bottle of beer and walks wobbly towards the front door.

Truthfully, Logan expects to find some mail-boy or another insurance agent, or even the old lady down the street who keeps giving him yoga brochures.  

But boy, was he wrong. 

What he found instead when he opened the door was you. 

A pretty girl who is standing before him in your neatly prettified hairstyle, your plain tight top paired with a white skirt that rests just below your knees, and with a smile that warms the entire gloomy hallway.

Logan felt his cheeks heat up. (He convinced himself that it was merely the intoxicating effect of the alcohol he drank.) 

You were there to deliver the cookies that Wade had ordered from the bakery two days ago. He can still recall how the tabs of your fingers grip the pink carton box a little too tightly before hesitantly handing it to his upper body, showing him a glimpse of the freshly baked cookies that you made earlier today.

He’ll be damned. How your sweet voice sounded like honey. How you utter your name and how you utter his. How you glance back at him one or two times before completely disappearing from his view. 

And how he did not even notice the slight bulge in his pants until he returned to the living room couch, still holding your box of cookies in his palm.  

Logan remembers it all.

For some time, Logan manages to ignore this fluttering fondness on his chest and make up ‘logical’ excuses after excuses of why he wants to be with you all the damn time. 

But now, when you are going on a one-week trip with your friends in the middle of the month, he can’t run away from his feelings anymore.

Every little shit Wade does, pisses him off more than usual that he actually has a great urge to throw the big-mouthed guy out of the window. He began to drown himself back into cigars and alcohol—his unhealthy coping mechanisms which he successfully maintained to ease down while you were around. His throat started to hurt again and he feels bad the entire fucking time he was awake. He begins to dig his own dirty grave again. 

When it’s his turn to do the laundry chores downstairs, he does it crabbily with his brows furrowed and an almost finished cigar in between his furrowing lips. That is until he sees your pile of clothing that just happened to be there in your section in the laundry room. Maybe you intend to wash it all together with your staycation garments—Logan’s not sure.

But he’s sure that he caught a glimpse at your pink panties which is laid out prominently somewhere below your other outfits. Logan curses a voiceless fuck while hanging his head low, ashamed of his own self for what he’s about to do. And before he can compose himself, he steps forward and reaches out for the lacey undies. Bringing the fabric to his nose—inhaling your scent through his nostrils. 

He’s now sure that he misses you. That this is no casual thing. 

Logan grumbles “Fuck it” under his breath and slips the fabric into his pockets—thanking the heavens that there’s no other person in the laundry room to witness his perverted act. 

When he gets back to his shared apartment, he also thanks the heavens that Wade left a ‘Out for the night :3 See ya’ tomorrow grandpa!” sticky note on the refrigerator. By this, he can continue smelling you throughout the lace that he stole earlier—now with his other hand moving rapidly up and down on his hard length as strings of your name are grunted out. 

When Wade goes back the day after, he keeps rumbling thoughtlessly about so much shit until he utters Logan a question with his mouth still full of your cookies. 

The older man had to groan a mindless ‘What?’ because he cannot grasp what the fuck Wade just asked him amidst eating.

“I said, peanut, do ya’ have a crush on her or something?” 

Logan clenches his jaw and sips another taste of his sour drink, “On who?” He knows who.

“Don’t play stupid with me, old man. Y’know damn well who!” Wade splays a stupid eating grin as he takes another crunchy bite, looking at Logan funnily. 

“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking ‘bout, bub.” It’s been 6 days without you and Logan is going insane. He knows damn well what Wade is talking about.

“Holy shit! Look, Mr. Sunshine, I gotta admit, you two would be such a cutie-looking little beauty and the beast couple if she doesn’t already have a boyfriend.”

Logan feels his organ actually stops beating for a minute there, 

A boyfriend? You have a fuckin’ boyfriend?

Wade slaps his own hand to his mouth when he catches a drastic change in Logan’s expression, “Oh, she hasn't told you yet, Wolvie? Upsie.” 

Who? Since when? Why didn’t you tell him? Is he not enough for you? Various questions loom over his already clouded head and he had to swig the liquor in five gulps to calm himself down.

Logan has his eyes opened the entire night. Can’t sleep and ridiculously drunk in alcohol–and jealousy. 

Still, he feels an utter excitement in the morning since he remembers that you’re returning today. Pulling himself together by getting up from the old leather couch to get a nice shower, trimming his beard, and fixing his appearance for you. 

Hell, he did not even remember the last time he tried this hard for someone. Possibly never. All this is just in case you want to see him today. 

You did.

When the clock on the wall ticks at 7 p.m., you knock on the door whilst bringing a bag of souvenirs. Looking soft in your pajamas and more beautiful than the last time he saw you.   

“Hey, kid—” Before he gets to greet you, your figure already latches to him in desperation. The souvenirs drop mindlessly to the ground as your arms drape around his broad shoulders - kissing him so eagerly. 

He pulls away to lock the door behind you before latching his lips onto yours again, sensually thrusting his tongue inside and gaining dominance with ease. 

Fuck. 

“L-Logan… I’ve missed you.” 

A small shriek went out of your red-kissed lips when he hauled your body up onto his hips, “Fuckin’ missed you too, pretty.” 

When you both came down to the couch with a loud thud, Logan’s already muttering strings of I miss you’s in between kisses. Inside the apartment, the world felt far away - his large palms all over your body - crowding you with his presence.  

It’s not long before the pads of your fingers play around the hem of his sweatpants, “W-would you show how much you’ve missed me, Logan?” You seduce him - looking at him as you bite your bottom lip.

And he groans. This is wrong. You have a boyfriend and he’s taking advantage of you. Fuck.

“F-fuck, sweetheart. This is wrong—” He breathes out on your hair - his logical thinking tries to get ahead of his heart, his desires, “This is so wrong.” 

You look up at him from the crook of his neck, “W-why?” Steadying yourself on his thick thighs - the movements are all to a halt as the both of you stare at each other in silence. 

“Y’know why, pretty girl.”

“I don’t care... I- I want this, I want you.” A tear began to well up in your eyes, “You said you missed me…” Showing your utter neediness by kissing his stubble - each kiss takes your time as you do it without hurrying, “I thought about you all the time I was away..” 

What kind of man Logan is if he refuses your sweet pleas? 

When you beg him as if he’s everything you ever need?

Logan doesn’t care anymore if you have a boyfriend. He’ll just pretend he doesn’t know shit. 

Fuck. If this is his last time seein’ you, he’ll make sure it’s something, alright. He’ll make sure your insides are molded into the shape of this cock. 

His ‘last time’ ? Logan is a fucking liar.

Logan losing a battle with his own self leads to you sprawled bare on his sheets. You could feel his piercing gaze on you, sending a pulse of arousal straight through your pussy.

His fingertips grazing your bare skin - his touch draws electricity on your vulnerable figure, “Been wanting to do this for months, y’know that, baby?” He murmures as he pinches your peaked nipple, luring a soft moan out, “So beautiful for your old man. So fuckin’ perfect.” 

Your cheeks warm up at his words and before you have the chance to respond, his lips are on yours. Each kiss is filled with neediness and desires. 

He trails his mouth down down down until he’s meet with your mound - and his mouth is on you. 

“A-ah!” 

The first lick of his tongue was soft but it was enough to make you whine out a high-pitched noise in desperation. ”Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He groans out before tasting you again. Calloused hands holding your thighs in place as he laps up and down on your slicked core, “Fuck. Tastes sweeter than any of your sweet treats.” 

Every flick of his tongue only pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling at the need to let go. 

“L-Logan…, please.” You whimper out as a tear falls into your flushed cheeks - as far as you’re loving this, you need more. You need him inside. 

And Logan understands, he looks up at you from where he is, his stubble glistening in your slick under the strips of moonlight, “What’s that? Y’want more, sweetheart?” He questions you in a low growl as he rubs circles on your thigh.

“Yesyesyes, please-e.” You nod your head erratically to show him how much you need him and he fucking eats it all up. That you’re begging for him. Not for anyone else. 

When he stands straight before you, you can see his large girth that bobs into his stomach. The sight of the flushed tips and the visible vein makes you feel warmer and hotter. 

The sculpted muscle on his lightly-haired chest, the firmness of his abs, the long vein that leads lower—all of it exists to drive you insane.

Logan tilts your face so that you are forced to meet his stare, “My eyes are up here, baby.” He chuckles darkly, breath ghosting over your spit-licked lips and you blush in embarrassment. 

“G’nna fuck you slow, alright? Make you feel so good.” Make you forget about anyone else than him. 

Your breath hitches at his words - only managed to nod as a way to respond, too breathless to speak. Letting him have the upper hand.

He kisses you again before shifting himself between your thighs and you can feel the hardness of his member gazing against your entrance. The anticipation was unbearable for the both of you and when he kissed you again, it was filled with tenderness and the raw need that he had kept these past months.

The tension finally shatters to the floor when he takes you, “F-fuck. Atta girl.” You both moan in unison when he pushes in. 

Logan feels giddy because he finally gets you. Not your panties nor not his lewd thoughts about you. He gets the real you. 

With one more deliberate thrust, Logan sank himself into you, the stretch of him filling you completely, sending a euphoric feeling into you, “H-ah, Logan..!” Your mouth gape in a broken gasp, your nail digging into his large back. He’s big—but at the same time it’s everything you ever need.

In some tawdry bar he was in, he concluded that the rest of his life is meaningless. Until some dickhead in a silly red suit takes him to this place and Logan’s sure his life is more meaningful than ever now that he knows you. 

“I know, baby. I know. Y’can take it, you’re my girl, aren’t you?” Logan groans, finding a paradox within his own sentence, knowing that it isn’t true but at the same time it is—confirmed by your drunken rambles, “Yeahyea-, yours, ‘m yours.” 

The noises he makes are deep and rough as he buries himself into the hilt, hitting your gummy spot while pressing his hips against yours. Making you let out strings of ah ah ah’s onto his mouth. 

“Feels good, huh, princess?” When you open your eyes, he’s already watching you. Watching your eyes flicker lower and lower until you catch an obscene sight.

You stare at the prodding bulge with a childlike fascination.   

Managing to move your hands over your flat stomach - your trembling fingers pressing down gently and you gasp. Logan hits so deep you could feel it on your soft skin, stretching your limits. 

You have no idea that your action drives Logan fucking insane. Turning him into some kind of wild animal that hunts for its prey. Encouraging him to move faster, his thigh muscles slap against your skin.     

“Yeah, kiddo, y’feel me there?” The bed creaks beneath as he starts thrusting at a cruel pace. 

You whine out as you watch him slide in and out, throwing your head back when you feel him against your palms that still rest above your stomach—the constant nudging drives you crazy, “S-so big…ah-”

“-S’that so? Hmm?” The sensation is nothing you could ever feel, making you see stars as your eyes roll back. His large hands drift away from your breast to join your hand, his palm pressing down hard - forcing you to feel more of him through your soft skin.

Hammering you with fervor, you both struggle to breathe as the air seems to be sucked out, “Gonna cum, L-Lo.” He’s melting at the sight of you: your mouth wide open, saliva gathering in the corners, some already dripping down to your chin.

Fuck. Can anyone else make you feel this good, huh?

“C-come f’me, sweetheart. Come f’your old man, yeah?” You’re already in another world, but then his hand leaves your stomach to tease your swollen clit. His rough thumb rubs fast circles as he keeps pounding at you. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the obscene squelches make your head spin even more. 

“A-ah!” You shriek out as you come undone, your tight walls clamping down on him. Visible tears roll down from your face as you arch your back, causing him to sink deeper. 

Logan watches as the bulge gets even bigger and he stills his movements; animalistic growls leaving his lips as his hips twitch to follow you over the edge. ”Fuckin’ Christ.” With his balls tight and pumping, he reaches for your hand and places it on your stomach again—making you feel how he fills you up to the brim with his hot cum.

You gasped as he fell above you, crushing you with his body weight and bulky figure. When your eyes met, you both laugh breathlessly at the scene. Then Logan hovers forward to latch his warm lips into yours in a tender kiss, calming you after the rough encounter, “I love you.” He lowly mutters against your skin, almost voiceless but you heard it. You did. 

His body rolls beside you in tiredness. Who knows his age is showing more during these moments, huh? 

Then the tips of his fingers gently stroke your hair when you move closer and rest your head on the crook of his neck. Logan’s heart sank when he remembered that you’re not his. That you have someone else in your heart. That possibly after this you’d be gone in the morning. 

Fuck. 

Before he even realized it, his nostrils fumed and the words just came out of his mouth, unfiltered, “What would your boyfriend think of this, huh?” 

He hoped the sentence would come out as a biting satire, a dark comedy to cover up the hurtIng feeling but your eyes look at him with nothing but utter confusion.

“W-what?” 

“Shit.” Logan curses and closes his eyes, one of his palms draping roughly on his face in regret, should not fucking say that so soon, “Y-yeah. Wade told me - you got a boyfriend.” 

“Logan…” You lift yourself up from the mattress to gently cradle his face, “I-I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Sweetheart, don’t—”

You shake your head erratically, “No, Logan, I’ve— I don’t…like anyone beside you. I don’t have a boyfriend.” The voice that you let out sounded so fragile but at the same time, convincing. Especially when you put on those big eyes to assure him—he knows you’re telling the truth.

Oh, what the fuck? 

The two of you stare at each other in perplexion, too much information is given at once - too many things to address. 

But the baffling thinking stops at one name. Wade Wilson.

Let’s just say Wade was getting tired of you and Logan playing the mouse and cat game then. He needs you both to resolve the tension already in a way… or two. 

And he may or may not want to kick Logan out of the apartment. 

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary. As the New Hampshire primaries are just around the corner, I am truly so sick and tired of seeing such bullshit on my electronic babysitter.

If you’re anything like that young child that I met, then you’re truly an idiot. This child, probably about sixteen or so, who thinks he knows something about politics. He sits in front of screen scrolling through various social media sites and he believes all of the fodder.

I remember asking him if a woman should have autonomy over her body. I sincerely think he did not know the definition of autonomy. He began to quibble with me and another guy about the bible and how those words were playing out in front of him. So…I brought up Ezekiel 23, Verse 20 - “There she lusted after her lovers, whose genitals were like those of donkeys and whose emissions was like that of horses.” Google it.

Then there’s Leviticus 18. Talking about being naked. Child. Please. The fucking hypocrisy of it all. To the best of my knowledge, certain men in power, or those higher in the caste system, they’d use a young boy for their pleasure. If you care to, the Bible has several sketchy and several blatant areas of nakedness and nasty things like lying between her breasts. Gick. I know. What you do, I don’t need to know just like most men will never admit that they urinate in the shower.

Then I see the electronic babysitter spew the volcanic vortex of voluminous vapid viscous vitriolic vomit from various vacuous vacant vagabonds s such as they are valedictorians of valuelessness.

If you’d like to get extremely technical down to the molecular level, just past the double helix, Nimarata Randhawa, is an anchor baby. Yet she continues to deny her heritage. I celebrate my ancestors because I’m Swish. I’m half Swiss and half Irish. My people came from Switzerland and Ireland. Also, she gives off those Susan Collins of Maine vibes. Say one thing today, Thursday, and then by Friday night, “What I meant to say was…”

Then there’s another triggering moment: something about the two most hated politicians are … and I know. I’m not an idiot. Then there’s Florida.

Look here Motherfucker, listen and hear what I say: No matter who are for or against, you’ll get screwed in the end. I’ve been involved in politics a great portion of my life. I remember, I was involved with a group called, “Young Americans for Freedom,” and they protested the Vietnam war. I clearly remember being at a rally where Bob Hope spoke about his involvement as an entertainer and his thoughts about the Vietnam War. Child. Please. If I could actually recall what he said, I’d post it here, but I was like eight or nine back then.

To bring this RANT to a close, yes, we all can say quite clearly that we ALL have issues with politicians starting off with the Dog Catcher up to the President and the folks in between. Chaos, negativity, and just plain bullshit from the past. Yeah, we fucking know. As a Grey Panther and just your every day pedestrian Arrogant Bitter Old Qween, I am not going to apologize for anything, but do know this, we currently have an ADULT residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. They want us to live in our truth, they want us to thrive and they want us to have cognitive dissonance. The others want to scam us, bamboozle us, give us lots of smoke and mirrors and then without realizing it, its round up time. Time to cull the herd and unbeknownst to y’all, some are getting on the box car and getting a number tattooed on their wrist.

Lastly, it was “Infrastructure Week” for how many months? Where’s the Healthcare Plan? If someone can actually show ONE PIECE OF LEGISLATION that benefitted absolutely everyone in the 48 contiguous states, Alaska, Hawaii and Puerto Rico and I’ll make sure Ronnie Milsap is your Uber Driver.

[wellfine]

Used to feel like a guest in my own body ‘Til I peeled back the wallpaper and I found a silver lining My eyes are no longer vacant, like a haunted house I switched on all the lights when I met myself

Listening to Pin-Up Daddy by Rett Madison on repeat and thinking about my Sanji redesign... Please listen to it and project it onto Sanji and his models of gender as hard as I have 💗💙

(Image descriptions below)

Loosely lined fanart from One Piece, painted with a rough a pastel crayon vibe and pink/purple tones throughout. Sanji, as a very young child, leans on his mother's hospital bed alongside his sister Reiju. They are laughing and chatting amongst themselves with makeup compacts and tools in their hands. They are all wearing the same shade of red lipstick which Reiju holds and blusher which Sora holds, including Sanji, who grins nervously with a mirror and compact in his own hands, wearing pearls around his neck and half his hair tied into a pigtail.

A little older, but still just a boy, Sanji stands in a dress shirt and maroon slacks. He looks nervously at Zeff, who is kneeling in front of him with a gruff smile, helping him do up his necktie. Zeff's attention is on the knot he's forming but Sanji's attention is on Zeff's face, shy but awed. His blue necktie is the same shade as the scarf around Zeff's shoulders. The whole image is awash in shades of warm green.

Now an adult, Sanji is bathed in warm peachy colours and light. He gazes confidently towards the viewer with a slight smile. His hand is in his pocket at his hip as he raises his leg. His design deviates from canon beyond the time-skip, and he wears a blue, white and pink suit reminiscent of a waiter or bartender complete with sleeve garters and bowtie. The non-curled tip of his eyebrow ends in a heart, and along with his beard, trimmed to resemble flames, is filled in with pink eyeshadow. Cigarette smoke jets from his parted lips. On either side of him, cropped almost entirely out of view, Zoro and Luffy flank him ready to fight alongside him, Luffy with his hand on Sanji's back and Zoro with his fist resting on his shoulder.

[kitkatpancakestack]

For anonymous, who requested an outsider POV from a Target employee's perspective. This was fun. I might have to continue this one later.

XIII

There are two things Tamara Boone knows for certain. Firstly, that she’s worked at Target five years too long, and secondly, that on the Saturdays her favorite, quirky little group of three shows up, she knows she’s in for an interesting day.

It’s been happening for a couple years now. It used to just be the brunette, and then it was the brunette and his son, and then further on down the line a blond man joined the group. There’s something inherently fascinating about the dynamic, about everything that happens when they walk through the store, really. Then again, she’s currently working toward a master’s in psychology with a focus on relational issues, so she’s probably just predispositioned to see it.

She perks up from behind the customer service desk, snapping her gum as she watches the two older men bicker. The kid laughs, teetering forward on his crutches. Months they’ve had these sporadically regular Saturday trips to Target, and still, Tamara has yet to place a definitive label on their relationship. She’s met them at the check-out line several times, and not seen any evidence of wedding rings, so probably not married. She’s never seen them kiss, hug, or hold hands, and yet, they have such a distinct vibe she can’t quite put her finger on.

“What is it today?”

Her colleague and friend Shea strolls up, flicking her box braids over her shoulder. She’s worked at the store nearly as long as Tamara has, and is the only other employee she can tolerate for extended periods of time. “Not sure. Looks like he’s headed for home goods.”

“He’s always headed for home goods.”

“Not true. Remember a couple Saturdays ago? When he spent two hours looking at dish towels and bath mats?”

Shea snorts, plucking a piece of gum from the pack Tamara hides under the customer service desk. “Yeah, I was the one who had to ask him if he needed any help. And then I had to run his husband and kid out of the store! The faces they gave me. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror the rest of the day.”

“Shut up, it’s way too early to be this dramatic. Also, they’re not husbands.”

“They’re totally husbands.”

“And how do you know this?”

“You’re kidding right? Just, watch, for a second. Look at Blondie.”

Tamara finds Blondie with the kid, over by a free-floating stand with snacks and movies. He crouches down, says something to the boy, who devolves into a fit of giggles, and then the man stretches to his full height and peers around the store. His eyes are a watercolor mosaic of blues and greens, bright and piercing even the twenty feet away he’s standing from the customer service counter. And even that far away, Tamara can identify the soft and loving fondness that relaxes his face when he finds the dark-haired man still standing rigidly in the home goods section.

She’d never say it out loud, but she always volunteers to work Saturdays on the off chance they come in, because there’s something about them that wraps her insides in warmth and gives her hope for something she never wanted to look directly at before.

“Whatever,” she mutters. “Doesn’t mean they’re husbands.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” Shea flicks a glance down to her watch. “Okay, stopwatch is going. It’s been ten minutes already. Take your bets.”

A gaggle of people stroll through the doors, then, and she shoves her friend away to go make herself useful. Tamara collects a steady stream of returns and isn’t able to come up for air until about thirty minutes later, and when she searches for her favorite group of three, Blondie and the kid are nowhere to be found, but the brunette is still standing in the home goods aisle. He’s migrated to the throw pillows.

With the desk now vacant of customers, Shea ambles back over, flashing her watch as she does. “Almost an hour!” she squawks. “Can you believe it? What is he even looking at!”

“Throw pillows.”

“Oh, God help us.”

“Where are the other two?”

“Saw them head out a few minutes ago. The inevitable Ice Cream Run, most likely.”

“Right. Okay.” She snags a penny from the register drawer and locks eyes with Shea. “Coin flip for who has to go over and ask if he needs any help?”

Horror washes over Shea’s face. “Uh, no! I had to do it last time!”

“Yes, as decided by the coin flip. It’s equitable, Shea, you know that. Now call it in the air.” Tamara flips the coin, and Shea calls heads.

It lands tails.

“Fuck,” Tamara mutters, as Shea pumps a victorious fist and trades places with her on the stool.

“Don’t worry, Tam, I’ll keep it warm for ya.”

She flips her off and straightens her godawful red polo before meandering through the aisles to the home goods section. Once upon a time, when he first started gracing their area Target with his presence, she couldn’t quite get over herself with how attractive he was. It was all that brown hair, and those eyes, and that smile, and those hands, Christ. Be that as it may, it was an exceedingly fleeting infatuation. Whatever the dynamic was with that blond guy, he was obviously taken, and Tamara had never met such a fussy shopper in her life. She’d watched him deliberate over two different ladles, once, and then walk out of the store with nothing in his hands. He was a personality she didn’t want to bring her psychology degree anywhere near.

Still, a coin flip is a coin flip, and fair is fair.

“Hello, sir, can I help you with anything today?”

His eyes glance up, and familiarity enters them. It’s kind, she thinks. Most people, even the locals, never remember her face. He remembered her name after their first meeting. “Hey,” he says. “Nice to see you again.”

“Ditto. Find everything you’re looking for?”

He nods, gaze returning to the aisles of throw pillows. He has his phone in one hand, and she sees the telltale layout of the Pinterest app on the screen. God Almighty. This man. Wonder of wonders. “I think so,” he mutters. “You got more options in the back?”

“Nope. Whatcha see is whatcha get.”

“Right. Sorry. Just thought I’d ask.”

Tamara shrugs, and then hears a loud clatter, and when she looks over, she sees Blondie standing with a sheepish look on his face, and several large bouncy balls go rolling by. The little kid has his eyes rolled up to the ceiling but can’t suppress the giggles.

The dark-haired man heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Jesus, Buck,” he mutters to himself, and then looks at her. “I’m so sorry. He may look like an adult, but he is more of a child than my actual son.”

Tamara shugs. “No worries. Kids see those giant bouncy balls and, well . . . it happens more often than you think.”

“Still.” His eyes flicker over her shoulder, and his brows furrow. “Buck, what the hell are you doing? Stop setting a bad example for Christopher.”

Tamara turns and sees the other two shuffling forward. A fine red hue spreads over the blond man’s - Buck’s - face. “It’s not my fault, Eddie. Do you see the size of those things? Besides, it was Christopher’s idea.”

The kid snorts in indignation, and the dark-haired man - Eddie - rolls his eyes. “You’re making Tamara’s job harder than it needs to be. Apologize.”

Buck bows, nearly prostrates himself at her feet. “I am so sorry. Please don’t ban us from this store. There are only so many Targets in LA.”

And that is a story Tamara definitely wants to unpack, but she doesn’t ask. “No worries. I’ll be over at the customer service desk if you need any help.”

They express their gratitude and their bickering resumes as she walks away. Shea shoots her a questioning look when she returns.

“So?” she asks, sliding off the stool. “How’d it go?”

“They broke the big bouncy ball display.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. You see any rings on those fingers yet?”

“No.” she pauses, watches as Eddie finally tucks two pillows under his arms. Buck latches onto the already full cart and steers it toward the check-out area. “They’re definitely in love though, don’t you think?”

“Obviously.”

The trio was only in the store for a few hours, a remarkably shorter time than average. Tamara is hit with another mini-rush, and by the time she glances back, they’re gone. She indulges herself a bit, allows herself to lament their absence, and is already looking forward to when they'll be back.

Which, to nobody’s surprise, ends up being later that evening, when Eddie requests a return on the throw pillows at her customer service counter, and then spends an additional two hours picking out new ones.

[thelastlynx]

It's WIP Wednesday, and the good people on twitter voted to see a sneekpeak of an unpublished bodyguard-Dramione, feat. Hermione as Minister and Draco as her PPA (Personal Protective Auror).

Vibes are political thriller meets rom-com. No TWs.

Enjoy!

Draco wakes in inky darkness at the sound of metal banging to the ground. The echo of the clanging hasn’t even faded when he’s already out of bed and through the door, his wand in hand, ready to investigate. A cursive glance at the foe-glass beside his bed showing mere silhouettes gives some reassurance, but Draco is nothing if not thorough.

He leaves his room, years of training and routine kicking in. Silencing Charms eradicate the faintest possibility of sound as he sneaks down the hall soundless as a ghost.

It’s deathly quiet.

Through the moonless dark (it’s the new moon, he realises), he’s barely able to make out the doors leading to Granger’s bedroom (to the left) and the bathroom (to the right). Both are firmly shut.

A non-verbal detection spell confirms three magical beings in the house. Usually, that should account for one Minister, one Auror, and one half-Kneazel. But with the faintest possibility of the cat being out and someone else in, Draco proceeds with securing the premises.

Granger’s room is first.

He finds her bed empty (the blanket’s still warm, so she can’t be gone long). Not anything to worry about per se, but now he’s got to be extra careful not to accidentally overpower her.

The bathroom’s vacant as well, so he checks the downstairs next.

As he flies down the stairs, he keeps his ears peeled for any indication of what might have caused the disruption. The hallway is just as pitch-black as the upstairs, but six weeks of spending almost every single day (or night, rather) in this place means he has no issue finding his way around. He goes from the sitting room, to the library, to the study.

Granger’s nowhere to be seen, neither is her cat, nor the cause for the disturbance. Last is the kitchen with the backdoor to the gardens. Draco’s just about to open the door — his hand is already pushing down the handle — when something materialises out of thin air, rushing towards him with the speed of a comet, and hitting him square in the chest. Draco has barely time to realise that the Something, which is really a Someone, is pushing him back, causing him to fall onto his arse, from whence he’s forced to the ground, his arms pushed over his head.

Draco’s intention of casting a Stunning Spell is rendered pointless as his wand sails off into the dark. It clatters uselessly over the tiled kitchen floor.

‘Shit!’

But Draco’s got no time to be frustrated.

A wand digs into his throat.

He mentally prepares himself for man-to-man combat, mapping out five ways to evade the wand and overpower his rival — a witch, he notes abjectly—when an incredulous voice tears through the tension and shocks him into faltering.

‘Draco?’

‘Granger?’

A heartbeat later, several orbs of warm light materialise, dancing around Granger’s face. She looks shocked.

‘What on earth were you doing there?’

Her tone is restrained, not at all matching the emotions mirrored in her large eyes. And she’s not getting up either. She keeps him pinned to the ground, his torso squashed between her thighs. His arms remain stuck to the floor above his head, which isn’t exactly the most relaxing position.

‘I heard a noise. So I went to check the premises.’

Draco wiggles to gain some leg room, but all it does is to cause Granger to squeeze her legs even harder.

He winces.

‘I was looking for you, too,’ he adds, wheezing slightly. ‘Your bed was empty.’

‘Yes,’ she says slowly, peering at him suspiciously. ‘Because I did the same. I was checking for intruders.’

‘And you didn’t think to wake me first?’

This has her surprised. She blinks. Then, she narrows her eyes again. It dawns on him she’s unsure if he’s actually who he says he is. This is partially reassuring as it signals she’s finally taking the situation seriously. On the other hand, Draco feels a bit put out by the fact she doesn’t immediately recognise the real him.

‘For Merlin’s sake,’ he curses. ‘It is I, Malfoy. Your favourite ferret.’

At that, her eyes begin to shine and the ghost of a smile tugs at her lips.

And yet, she does not budge.

As she sits atop him, her wand digging into his throat, her thighs squeezing his sides, the shape of her bum rubbing against his downstairs, two thitherto unknown facts of life reveal themselves in sharp clarity:

one: Granger is resolutely not the sexless personification of the state he’d grown accustomed to imagining her to be.

two: he’s got a thing—a sexual thing—for powerful witches in control.

Latter revelation results in a third extraordinarily inconvenient fact of life that now comes roaring to life, in its full, uncompromising, unbidden, indisputable glory — all made worse (or better, Draco is starting to grow very confused about this point) by Granger’s ample chest heaving under the strain of the exertion, as well as her usual flimsy nighttime attire (a scrap of fabric masquerading as a nightgown, as Draco likes to call them). The satin (or silk, Draco can’t be entirely sure from their too-brief encounter, desperately grasping as he does at the edges of his sanity, his work ethic, and all the things that still mean something to him, to fight the urge to run his hands up her sides to thoroughly check again), anyway, the smooth cloth strains against her nipples which the nightly draught rendered prominent peaks.

The light orbs hovering around them give her face an eerie glow. For a moment, Granger looks like one of those faeries of old; the ones his mother had warned him about, those luring unsuspecting strangers into the depths of the forest with their beauty, before they cursed them into toadstools.

That moment, the full, weighty, devastating realisation that Granger might’ve finished him off there and then hits him.

His treacherous cock twitches.

‘Auror Malfoy,’ Granger whispers into the quiet and smiles (her lips are shaped like “fuck it” and “consequences be damned���), ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, you seem awfully pleased to see me.’

‘Just the adrenaline,’ he responds in a tone that is matter-of-factly, and not throbbing with passion. Draco’s feeling additionally pleased with himself that he manages to keep resisting the temptation to pull her against the length of him. ‘I only hope you’re not too out of sorts from feeling a man’s passion—possibly for the first time. Virgin Minister, is it?’

She laughs at that, her eyes dancing with mirth.

A few more heartbeats pass during which the tension in the air grows and thickens, just as the tension in Draco’s body does.

At long last, she stands, releasing him from this sweet torture, and extends a hand to help him up as well.

[starsdies]

are there songs that remind u of ur fics? of obi wan and anakin in general? id love to know what u associate w them 👀

this is my absolute favorite topic to talk about bcos music is my number one love language so thank you for opening this floodgate omg. y e s i have plenty of songs associations with obikin and a playlist too - but we’ll save that for later. 

ONE. endlessly by muse is probably my number one obikin song for many reasons. it really hits when you take kenobi as a backdrop. 

“Hopelessly I'll love you endlessly / Hopelessly I'll give you everything / But I won't give you up / I won't let you down / And I won't leave you falling / But the moment never comes.”

it’s also a bonus that ewan sings the song for a cover, so i can die happily on my headcanon hill that obi-wan sings anakin to sleep. 

TWO. connected by islandinside. my second biggest obikin song, i think. the lyrics are so them it genuinely aches like please look at this: 

“I am the mirror / I am your satellite / I am the sign that / Stuck inside your mind” i mean, this easily reminds me of the two of them being split halves of one another, their dyad, etc. and then we have this as well, which hurts so bad and so good:

“When you′re lost and broken / These words are your guiding light / In the darkest place: / "We are each other's secrets. / We are connected. We are connected." / When you′re lost and broken / I am your guiding light / In the darkest maze: / "We are each other's secrets. / We are connected. We are connected."

THREE. everything by thyla. this song gives me alot of modern angsty vibes, but the lyrics for this particular part are so ingrained in my heart for them that i just feel emotional whiplash when this songs comes on shuffle. the ending of this song is an emotional rollercoaster bcos it changes tune completely and builds, builds, builds, and i… oh god. this song is so good.

“I can't call you home / I can't call you home / Never said too much / Now, I can't call you home / I wish I said too much.” - tell me that isn’t the most… obikin thing ever… i’m shattered it’s fine!

FOUR. achilles come down by gang of youths. i mean. as a classics lover and a patrochilles shipper by default… this obviously must also relate to obikin. i mean, i’ll let the lyrics talk for themselves. this is like the must-have for anakin/obikin playlists.

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down / Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? / You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you / Achilles, it's not much but there's proof / You crazy-assed cosmonaut, remember your virtue / Redemption lies plainly in truth / Just humor us, Achilles, Achilles, come down / Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?”

FIVE. remember by seinabo sey, jacob banks. this song… really reminds me of obi-wan telling luke and leia about anakin. how, even after everything, he talks of him so highly. here are the lyrics to accompany that for extra tears:

“Let me write you into history, darling / Let me sing you into eternity / So you say you just wanna be remembered / You just wanna be remembered / Just wanna be remembered.”

SIX. no devotion by tender. again, definitely a big modern angst vibe but i’m just. this is one of my most favorite songs in the world so the fact that i associate it with my boys so much really gets to me! here are the lyrics that hit hardest and ahhhhhhhh… rots obikin too… that whole quote of anakin talking about how he wanted obi-wan to stay? obi-wan not knowing what to do with all these conflicting emotions from anakin? yeah. this one.

“I don't know why you slipped away / I never even asked you to stay, baby / Cracks appeared and we both start to fade, but we're / Already broken / There's no devotion / Maybe I'm really to blame / I got my head in the sand / And I just can't understand why you're vacant and not there / Try to be patient with you, but I'm too scared / Tell me what I'm doing wrong / I'm wearing thin, but holding on / For you.”

and finally, because i could go on forever but i should save you the reading, here is my obikin playlist on spotify.

[diamond-coral]

The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave  a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down. 

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America. 

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.” 

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot. 

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through. 

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”