#which is why it’s difficult for me to make so many ocs

[buckysgrace]

Do you put a lot of yourself in some of your female ocs?

Hmm not really look wise, except for maybe height? I’m not short so I always make my ocs average height or taller 🤣

I based Kim a lot around how I was in high school like very reserved and shy but made it more extreme for her. And I used to be a big pushover and struggle with confrontation lmao. I also really aspire to be how kind she is tho.

Daphne I feel like gets my more like inner bubbly parts? I tried to make her more of an extrovert which has been a struggle but nice? I also am not good with anything musically so that’s also been kinda hard. So I suppose for her most of her stuff has been a farm girl which same lmao. I haven’t had enough time to traumatize her yet (rip).

So yeah Kim got a lot of my issues in that sense lmao. I’ve probably put myself more into Billy than anyone else because well similar daddy issues lmao. So it was really easy for me to connect it there and give him similar experiences!

[kqltlc]

Filter lists and block button my beloved, I will forever appreciate the work you do to help keep me browsing / sane.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.  

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first. 

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind. 

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first. 

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you. 

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say. 

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways. 

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume. 

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be. 

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say. 

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said. 

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter. 

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky. 

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding. 

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by. 

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say. 

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says. 

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.” 

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently. 

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up. 

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality. 

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you. 

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized. 

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn��t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

[lovewithmary]

(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series

★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock? ★ notes: THE REASON WHY MAX NEVER ENDED UP DATING EVIE GETS REVEALED!!! OHHHH

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"So which one of them is it?"

Max nearly has a heart attack at the sound of Natasha's voice, not expecting to hear her when he could've sworn he saw her from across the room. He had grown up knowing the woman, but no matter how many years had passed, he could never figure out Natasha Romanoff.

It was to be expected, considering she had made it so you couldn't figure her out. But even then, it was unnerving to Max to be facing her, when she looked like she could see right through him and knew every secret he was hiding.

Natasha probably did know his secrets. And that's what he was afraid of.

Max had been invited to a little get-together that was only Avengers, Pepper, Morgan, and the Drivers and their WAGs. It was surprising when Max received the text from Tony, thinking that Tony would've sided with his daughter in their fight. However, Max was promised there was no bad blood between him and Tony and he was invited to the get together.

It was weird for him to see his two worlds collide. He had tried his hardest to separate his two worlds, even if it wasn't even technically his world, it was Evie's. He orbited around Evie long enough for him to consider himself as a constant for her, someone Evie could rely on.

He just had to fuck things up in that regard. In this butterfly effect, caused Evie to meet Charles, and now he was sat with the Earth's Mightiest Heroes with his fellow F1 Drivers.

Maybe he needed to evaluate everything he had done in his life up until this point.

"I don't know what you're talking about," was what Max was able to come up with after being shocked by Natasha.

Natasha looked unimpressed with his answer as if she expected him to say that. "So it's both?" Natasha concluded, and Max had never been so confused in his life than he was right at that moment.

"Both?"

"You know, Verstappen, you're pretty easy to read all things considered. So I knew when you started having a crush on Evie, then those feelings became real. What was difficult to understand was the fact that Evie was reciprocating these feelings, yet you never seemed to take the chance, despite your feelings," Natasha started, making Max nervous.

"I had to look at things in a bigger picture. Try to see where your feelings changed about Evie," she continued.

"Only your feelings didn't change. You also have feelings for another. So tell me, Max, what are you going to do with your feelings for both Evie and Charles?"

"How did you know?" Max asked, feeling panicked all of a sudden.

"I didn't, it was a shot in the dark. But you just confirmed it for me," Natasha shrugged, taking a sip of her drink, which was just vodka.

"I thought I was hiding it well, considering it just so happened that the two people I love have gotten together," Max sighed, not even realizing that he admitted he loved them.

"Oh, you are hiding it well. Well, maybe not to me but Evie and Charles have no clue. Whether it's denial or they're just clueless, they don't know,"

What Natasha said finally caught up to Max, not even realizing she had said it until now. "What do you mean what am I going to do with my feelings? I'm obviously not going to act on them," Max told her.

"Why not?"

"Why— why would I try to break them up?! Also, that'd be ruining their relationship and whatever friendship I have left with the both of them," Max exclaimed quietly, shocked at the fact she'd think he'd want to ruin Evie and Max's relationship.

Natasha rolled her eyes and said, "I obviously don't mean you break them up,"

"What did you mean then?" Max asked, his interest piqued since if Natasha didn't mean breaking them up, what did she mean?

"Do I have to spell it out for you Max? Date the both of them," she explained slowly, like he was a small child.

"Wha—"

"You like Charles and Evie, Charles likes Evie and you, and Evie likes you and Charles. Everyone loves everyone and you don't have to keep on sulking," she casually said, as if she didn't say something so shocking to Max.

"I don't sulk," Max was quick to deny.

"Funny how that's the first thing you pay attention to and ignore the fact I said Charles likes you,"

"Charles doesn't like me in that way. But even if he did, I highly doubt a relationship with the both of them is possible,"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Evie barely looks at me because of the shit things I said about her. I'd probably end up fucking it up again if we were all ever together. Charles has only ever talked to me amicably, and I'm pretty sure that's because Evie told him not to let our fight get in the way of our friendship,"

"Max, if Evie was willing to tell Charles that, doesn't that give you even the tiniest bit of hope she'll be willing to forgive you?"

"Even if she was willing, where would I start?"

"How about saying you're sorry?"

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 17. Jealousy

Summary: Xaden and Garrick get their squads together to train, leading to some jealousy with someone unexpected.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long delay on Dahlia. Kinktober took priority, but we are back in full force. I wrote so many parts in the last 24 hours for this, and I can't wait for you guys to see what I'm building up to in a few parts! Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

“I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance.” Liz says in an airy tone.

I turn to see her staring at Garrick and Xaden who have gone shirtless for their sparring warm up. And she wasn’t the only one. There were more cadets here than normal for our night training session. Since bonding dragons it seemed a lot of the first years were wanting to make sure they kept their seat. And every single girl in the room was starting at them.

I can’t help but let my eyes wander as I look over at them. Garrick was by far the most muscular guy in the quadrant. As if every muscle had been carved from stone. I shake my head in attempt to get those thoughts out of my head before turning back to watch Imogen spar with another first year.

“I won’t give him a chance, because he won’t give me a chance.” I reply bitterly.

“I mean, can you blame the guy? You’ve seen how your brother and father treat the other marked ones.” Liz murmurs, still lost in a trance as she watches them spar.

“I am not my brother and my father.” I nearly snap at her, my typical anger rising to the surface at being compared to them.

“Trust me, we know. Even if you were an angsty bitch when we first met you.” Austin teases from my other side, dodging my attempt to shove her away.

“Thanks? Not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.” I say as I narrow my eyes at her slightly.

”Let’s go with both.” Bodhi says as he walks over and joins us, Garrick and Xaden close behind him.

I keep my eyes focused on Bodhi as I jokingly glare at him, but out of the corner of my eye I feel Garrick staring at me. Ever since our interaction in the hallway I’d felt his eyes on me more. Almost as if challenging me to take the bait he’d laid out the other day. Which I was not. Yes I could admit he was attractive, especially while he stood there shirtless with his freaking muscles on full display as they glisten with a slight sheen of sweat. But even if I did get along with him, I was not becoming another notch in his bed post.

”Alright everyone, pair up with someone and start going through some weapon practice.” Xaden advises as he looks over us.

Tonight both his and Garrick’s squads were training together. Apparently a good way to broaden our training by going up against people we didn’t really know. Naturally Imogen tagged along even though she wasn’t in either squad. She made a habit of turning up whenever we were here. She kept saying it was coincidence, but I was starting to think it really wasn’t. Our squads start pairing off, Liz and Austin pairing up as if on auto pilot. They worked well together as they were a similar skill level, often complaining Bodhi and I were too difficult to go up against.

I go to follow Bodhi, but a large figure steps into my path and I’m forced to look up at Garrick. ”How about you and I pair up little Aetos?” His voice laced with a mocking tone as he looks down at me.

I roll my eyes and scoff at him. “No thanks, wouldn’t want to catch something from being too close to you.” I snap back, causing Bodhi and Imogen to snicker at my comment, Xaden’s eyes going wide as he looks between us.

”You’re just scared I’ll finally show you up.” He mocks, arms crossing over his chest as he cocks his head to the side.

An idea forms in my head. A stupid idea. And I silently hope he doesn’t follow through with it as the words leave my mouth. “If you’re so confident about that maybe you should challenge me once challenges start back up. Unless you’re scared I’ll prove you wrong again?”

Another round of snickers pick up around us, Garrick’s brow furrowing as he glares down at me. Clearly me proving him wrong all those weeks ago was still a sore spot for him, and I couldn’t help but smirk at him before pushing past him and dragging Bodhi with me.

”You know he’s going to end up doing that and he’s going to kick your ass in front of everyone?” Bodhi whispers as I lead us over to a spot on the far side of the room.

”He’s not going to kick my ass in front of everyone.” I throw back at him as I grab a sword from the weapons rack.

I turn around to see Bodhi looking at me like I’m an idiot. “Clearly you don’t know him very well, or you’re delusional on the size difference between you two.”

”And he also doesn’t know me very well.” I point out, Bodhi eyeing the sword I’m waving around cautiously as if worried I’m going to hurt him or myself with it.

”Maybe if you-”

”Nope, not happening.” I say before settling into a fighting stance.

Bodhi clearly takes it as a sign this conversation wasn’t going any further, his shoulders sagging in defeat before walking over to grab his own sword. As soon as he settles into a fighting stance I launch myself at him, Bodhi flailing to keep up with me. Each of my strikes fuelled with the hint of anger that had risen to the surface from my interaction with Garrick and words with Bodhi.

Bodhi didn’t deserve how hard I was going at him, but I needed to let out my frustrations somehow. Everyone was so adamant I give the lumbering oaf a chance. But why should I when he wouldn’t give me one? Since the day I’d walked across the parapet, he’d made up his mind about me. Had lumped me in with my brother and father without even a second thought.

Poor Bodhi is quick to succumb to my attacks, my leg kicking his out from beneath him as he falls to the floor with a loud thud as his sword clangs loudly on the ground as I point the tip of mine at his neck.

Bodhi just shakes his head and laughs. “Remind me to never piss you off again.”

”You’ll be fine.” I tease as I move my sword from his neck as I hold out my free hand to him.

He grasps his around mine before pushing off the ground to help me pull him up. Clearly still wobbly from his fall he stumbles into me as he rights himself, causing him and I to laugh at his clumsiness.

“You sure? I nearly just made a fool of myself by nearly sending us plummeting to the floor.”

”Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made a fool of yourself.”

Bodhi laughs as he playfully shoves me away before releasing my hand and heading over to get a drink of water from his pack. As he moves my eyes fall on Garrick who hasn’t moved an inch, except to turn and look over at us. But for once his glare and eyes aren’t trained on me. They’re focused on Bodhi. And it almost looks like he wants to murder him.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd

[saintsenara]

As someone who isn't the biggest Hermione fan and keeps it quiet because greater fandom LOVES her, I'm honestly gagging for more of your Hermione takes. Especially your takes on fanon Hermione, who I can't STAND. Have a good one x

thank you very much, anon - there are dozens of us!

hermione is certainly the character i struggle to find common ground with the most - and this has been the case since i first read philosopher's stone as a child.

[which has actually been a really fascinating pop-culture experience - i think we tend to overlook, both because the media landscape and its representation of child and teen girls has changed since the 1990s and because of jkr's increasingly harmful views on gender, just how groundbreaking hermione was as a female protagonist in media which wasn't marketed primarily or exclusively towards girls. there is a reason why so many girls and women identified with her when the books were coming out - and it was very interesting for me growing up to not be one of them.]

the cause of my beef with hermione is for the incredibly petty reason that i find people who possess many of her more... striking traits quite difficult to deal with in real life, particularly if they don't acknowledge [which people in the hermione vein often don't...] that these traits are things it might benefit them to work on in their interpersonal relationships...

but this doesn't prevent me recognising that canon!hermione [and any real person like her] is interesting - and that her more annoying traits work well with her more straightforwardly admirable ones to create a fully-rounded character who, from a fanfiction perspective, is a great vehicle for all sorts of tropes, themes, and storylines.

which brings us - of course - to fanon!hermione...

fanon!hermione is, at her core, another brick in the wall of mary-sues. she's beautiful, and so clever she can solve millennia-old puzzles without batting an eyelid, and she's preternaturally emotionally intelligent, and she's morally spotless, and she's always right, and the story's preferred romantic partner worships the ground she walks on, and anyone who doesn't like her is punished.

i don't think - to be clear - that there is anything wrong, per se, with people wanting to write fanon!hermione [nor, to be frank, with other flawless fanon versions of female characters, oc mary-sues, or self-indulgent self-inserts - i'll defend the right to have fun with characters to the death]. this is a hobby, and people's way of engaging with that hobby doesn't have to appeal to me - it's fun escapism sometimes to write a character who is wonderful and perfect and beloved and has a sexy partner; and when it comes to accusations of writing someone "out-of-character", let she who is without sin cast the first stone...

but i also think - and [sigh] here comes some discourse - that fanon!hermione is part of a slight... girlbossification of female characters in the harry potter fandom [and presumably in others, i just don't follow closely enough to know] which i've always been a little uneasy about.

i understand why this happens - this fandom, like many, has an overwhelming preference for making blorbos of male characters and for imagining these characters in slash relationships. the treatment of female characters in slash subfandoms - i.e. tonks in wolfstar spaces; lily in jegulus spaces - is often straightforwardly misogynistic, and even in cases where it isn't, female characters are often shuffled quietly to the sidelines, except when they pop up - often suddenly in a queer pairing of their own - to benignly cheerlead the male couple.

and i think it's good that this is challenged - as i also think it's good that the heteronormative vibes of a lot of slash are challenged - and that we, as a fandom, are increasingly interested in female-centric works [whether focused on a romantic pairing or otherwise] and discussions. i hope these continue to take up fandom space.

but i have also noticed that the way female characters are written and talked about in these context is - as i've said - quite #girlboss in its approach. the focus is on women as clever and competent and feisty and unruffled and brave.

[including female villains, there are a lot of girlboss bellatrixes knocking around...]

and great! it should be! - but from what i've seen this also comes accompanied by a resistance to the idea that women can also be boring, unintelligent, self-infantilising, vain, arrogant, ignorant, talentless, meek, domestic, rude, dislikable, conservative, incurious, complicit in their own victimisation, plain wrong, and so on, and not only still be worthy of exploration, but be worthy of these characteristics not being automatically considered bad things for someone to possess and it not being seen as letting down the sisterhood to explore a woman who possesses them.

and, sure, hermione cannot be described as many of these things - but she is...

self-righteous; cruel; petty; from a privileged class background in the muggle world which blinkers her understanding of the class structure of the wizarding one; stubborn; terrible under pressure; shown by the text to be intelligent largely due to an ability to rote learn; a people-pleaser with a tendency towards a slightly hagrid-ish blind loyalty; extremely deferential to authority and willing to tolerate cruel treatment from authority figures [i.e. snape]; the most childlike of the trio [she takes her schoolbooks on the run and reads through them for comfort! she's an enormous animal lover!]; interested in one of form of stereotypical femininity [knitting! wearing pretty dresses!] even if she rejects the form of stereotypical femininity liked by e.g. parvati and lavender [and anyone who thinks she's not going to get along with her mother-in-law because molly's a housewife is dead wrong - she's having the time of her life helping put together a sunday lunch at the burrow]; possessed of a filthy sense of humour [i will never understand why emma watson said that the key to playing her was to be prim...]; someone who obviously wants to be liked and to be loved; and so on...

[and also, by the end of the pre-epilogue narrative, eighteen. she's often written in fics in a way which makes her sound like she's seen a lot of life - especially if the fic wants to claim she's "too mature" to bother with men her own age... but she hasn't - she's a teenager, and the reason she's so unpolished and abrasive is because literally all teenagers are unpolished and abrasive. it's just one of the mortifying agonies of growing up.]

we should love this. it makes her thorny and messy and mixed-up and human - and i am perfectly delighted by explorations of her character which delve into unravelling this tangle.

i just like her less as someone who is there to be right and beloved and uncriticised.

unless it's by ron. everyone should be uncomplicatedly adored by their wife guy.

[nikanono]

I know I'm not active on here anymore, but I need a place to get this off my chest.

And Tumblr is where I found my creativity so I guess it fits

It has been so difficult to create anything as of recent. Ive lost so much confidence in what I do with so many shortcomings with my art. And I feel as if part of it is my fault- other parts its completely out of my hands.

Yes, Ai art and the industry tossing creatives aside hasnt been the most encouraging thing in the world. Its a good reason as to why i've been feeling not so great with creating things.

In 2022, I suffered a really bad art burnout. I didnt draw anything for a year. I started to kick it back up again in 2023. I found a lot of comfort in spending a lot of time drawing my OC's- which was far different than what I used to do- which was a shit ton of fanart. It definetely ignighted my spark and I really started to draw what I loved.

I really felt I was diving back into what I was really passionate about.

But I guess i could never escape how badly I relied on external validation for things I make. Because if I truely reflect, I've mostly drawn things for others. And I kept tellling myself that that was something I found comfort in. Getting feedback from an external source is where I grounded my validation for so many years and I really need to break out of that habit. And I'm back in a rut where I'm not finding interest or enjoyment in it anymore.

But its rough- I know OC content doesnt get much attention online, not compared to fanart at least. But seeing numbers dwindle on social def hit the brain a little to hard. I know I cant ever beat the algorithm but it still does suck a whole lot

The art burnout at the start of this year hit me so hard like a 500kg Eagle Strike. I can tell that im forcing any art that I put out. But I look at the recent stuff i make, wether it be a sketch or an illustration, and just feel so disheartened. I dont hate it, I dont critique it- I just feel disheartned by it.

And I know its affecting other parts in my life. Im a lot more moody and irritable, and I have this lingering worry that its starting to affect my social circles. I do my best to check in with my friends and partner but anxiety really just isnt kind at times.

I know time is going to be my friend in overcoming burnout- I know I've overworked myself. I just hate how I'm starting to resent the things I was so passionate about.

But really, I needed to get this off my chest somewhere.

Thanks for hanging friends

[ahgasegotarmy116]

OMG I HAVE ANOTHER DRABBLE REQ 😭😭✋🏻.

Can you do a drabble in which jti!jk lifts oc's baby bump

To giver her some relief?😭

(Love the teaser cantt waitttttt)

Haha this is so cute 🥰

Sure I think I can do that 🤭

(Are you talking about the Jimin teaser? I'm sad because it doesn't look like many people are interested in it but I'm glad you're excited about it 🥺💜)

~~~~~~

"Jungkook" I call out for him and I hear footsteps rushing upstairs moments later.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Is it the baby?" he asks, concern clearly written all over his face and I can't help but giggle at the sight.

"Everything is fine I just can't get up" I relay, embarrassed that it's come to the point where I need his help for something as simple as this but he lets out a huge sigh of relief and helps me up with no hesitation.

"You scared me for a second there" he says and places a kiss on my forehead once I'm steady on my feet. "Sorry, I just didn't know how far away you were and you left your phone in here so I couldn't call you" I say, motioning over to where his phone is lying on his side of the bed.

"That's okay, I'm just glad I was here to help this time" he says, chuckling at the memory of the time I told him it took me almost five minutes of wiggling around to finally get myself out of bed one morning.

He wasn't around since he had to go into the office that day but he made sure that there weren't opportunities for something like that to happen again.

"Why did you have to put such a big baby in me?" I huff, walking over to the bathroom to go pee for what feels like the twelfth time today.

"They're not that big, the doctor says that they're growing at a healthy rate. It's our first baby so your body is still trying to figure out how to cope with it all" he says, leaning against the door frame and making sure that I'll be okay to get up on my own.

"Yeah I know but it sucks feeling this helpless. Plus I feel like I'm about to topple over half the time when they start moving around" I say, the hormones making me a bit more irritable today.

Well you are thirty five weeks at this point so they're running out of room in there" he says, smiling at he watches me struggle to wash my hands with my big belly in the way.

It's not that he likes seeing how difficult it is for me to perform simple tasks like this, he just finds it endearing and loves to help me more than anything.

"Very funny" I grumble once I catch his smile in the mirror and walk past him and back into the bedroom but I don't get too far before he's holding onto me like he always does.

I swear it's some sort of primal instinct or something because for some reason he always feels the need to keep his hands on me at all times.

"Can I try something really quick?" he asks, both his hands snaking around my waist or lack there of because of our ginormous spawn. "Like what?" I ask, sighing in contentment when he places a kiss on my neck, laying my head back on his shoulder and relishing the feeling of it.

"It might feel a little weird for a second but tell me if it hurts right away" he warns and now I'm scared. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, trying to turn around and face him but he holds me in place before I can.

"Just trust me" he mumbles against my skin and after thinking about it for another second or two I nod my head and wait for whatever it is he has planned.

He runs his hands all along my stomach and then rests them right underneath it and when I think he's about to go lower he wraps his arms under it and lifts it up, granting me instant relief and I couldn't control the moan I let out even if I wanted to.

"That good huh?" he chuckles, placing a kiss on my temple and lifting it up a little higher making me melt into him. "You have no idea" I sigh, not remembering what it felt like not having a baby in me until now.

"I've gotta let go soon though" he warns and although I know he would do this for me all day if he could all good things must come to an end.

"One more minute?" I ask and he chuckles and adjusts his hold so he can keep it going for a little bit longer and even when a minute is up he just stays there, holding me as long as he can...

~~~~~

Hope that was fluffy enough for ya 🥰

I miss this couple sm but I've kinda come to a writer's block for the main storyline but dw I haven't forgotten about them 💜

[narriose]

Thoughts on Veilguard so far:

Preface: I’m ~50 hours in with a handful of endgame spoilers.

My general values are: Story > Characters > Gameplay > Romance > Rep > Visuals.

My rating of the previous games: DA2 > DAO > DAI

Spoilers under Cut:

What I expected: Having to deal with an unappealing art style and clunky gameplay with leftover multiplayer and live service era elements that they couldn’t get rid of for the sake of the story and characters.

What I got: Well…

Let’s Start with the negatives:

-Dialogue: I want to know what happened there. Ik for a fact they had veteran BioWare writers on the team and it feels like there was a decision to dumb everything down to the point of me immediately having a line in my head that would sound better in universe every time someone spoke. It proved especially grating once I heard Morrigan speak. And when people compare the writing to MCU I cannot really protest. “Dragon Age has always been unserious” yes but like. Not every other line was a joke or relatable™️ millennial awkwardness . When jokes did happen they became memorable moments for the fandom. It’s often very difficult to listen to. Especially when Rook talks. It is getting marginally better though.

-Tone: Dragon Age has been compelling to me because it wrote conflict and trauma and corruption in a way that felt developed enough to feel grounded and believably horrific. Even with all its faults. DATV mellowed out the horrors and seems to gloss over a lot of sociopolitical dynamics and lore. Stuff like portraying crows as vigilantes and not showing the evils of Tevinter slavery. The tone itself just feels like theyre trying to make an easily marketable sanitized IP out of it to cater to a wider audience.

-Character Writing: A lot of characterization has been “Tell not show” because I’m disappointed in Lucanis and Neve. The story says one is a serious killer and the other is a cynic but both have only been friendly soft and positive which is like??? I feel like a lot of their intro has been cut out or something where they establish those traits on screen. Another thing is: there don’t appear to be actually detestable and controversial traits in characters or even internal conflict they need to overcome. They’re just dealing with some kind of external thing thrust onto them and that is very shallow to me personally.

-Intro: I know we’re not getting Origins style personalized intros again but it felt like too much is handwaived into people making their own OCs and forming headcanons when the game doesn’t let us RP much at all outside identity stuff anyway. Like how do we know Varric? Why should any of the pep talks he gives us mean anything when we haven’t experienced anything to warrant the complements he gives us?

-Villains: possibly the worst part of the story: they lit act like theyre in a preschool cartoon down to body language. No nuance no controversy no actual horror to them when in previous games the evil felt so much more pronounced because some of the villains felt human enough to be a shitty person irl.

-Rep: Sigh. Even as a transmasc I might be a little too internally transphobic for the rep in the game. It feels like so many steps ahead of what the story should be handling. Like fix the slavery problem in a meaningful way then start philosophical gender discussions about what a gender binary even is. And it’s very cringe to me when it’s spoken about in game. Like yeah I love that there’s no way to dispute what the characters are but it also feels so entirely uncreative using modern day terminology for this stuff. And I don’t mean “replace it with ambiguous sad baby talk” but something more. Like is it terrible to want that? Even if you were planning on using the word nonbinary, at least tell us what a binary even is and how it was instituted as an idea into this world. Like I do adore Taash, I just wish the gender stuff wasn’t so clumsy.

-Visuals: It’s hard man. As an artist who sees human bodies as proportion reference points, the bodies still look off to me. Like it was worse and I’m getting used to it but it’s still painful. And I’m all for trying to stylize but this particular heroforge direction was not something I would have picked.

-OST: At first I couldn’t tell Zimmer/Balfe’s stuff apart from Morris’s but yeah, the new stuff is more boring(Sans the Rivain part)

-The 3 choice thing: yeah not a fan of that. I feel like perhaps it was a part of the multiplayer era where they would not be able to import much if everyone had a massively different world state so they limited it to the tiny MC choices. Still sad that the romance thing only really matters if you romanced Solas because the Dorian cameo wasn’t anything to write home about. Kinda feels like they added him in last minute because someone pointed out how much Solas-skewed the choices were. Idk. I so expected Josie in Antiva but alas.

Now Onto the Positives:

-Codices: The very way-too modern simplified conversational dialogue style carries over to the codices. And while I despise that as a creative, I do find myself actually reading them as they come because they are so easy to absorb. I feel like a lot of people would benefit from not skipping them because there are some references and plot reveals worth checking out.

-Story: If you deafen the dialogue style, the story itself is top. Gets way better as you play and from the spoilers I’ve heard, yeah. It’s good. Can’t wait to find out more.

-Gameplay: Listen I have a massive preference for DA style combat even if most ppl call it a slog. The turn based element, the pause button, the hoarding skills I never use. It’s like coming home to me. I hated DAI combat for the amount of anxiety it induced and I usually hate fast-paced action combat in most other games. DATV made me eat my boots. Its combat is insanely fun and engaging and often times I’m looking forward to fights more than quests themselves. Very colorful, very flashy, and very effective. The pause button gives less freedom but it’s there. The combos are fun. It is like Mass Effect except I did not find commanding the companions in Mass Effect as intuitive. Tho I wish non mages had less magicey feeling attacks.

-The CC: Yeah it wowed me with the options. I like how much can be done with the facial sliders and how good the hair looks.

-Puzzles: Listen the puzzles are extremely stupid in this game. But I also am very stupid and lazy when it comes to solving them. I have looked up the vast majority of puzzle solutions for DA games. No more DA2 Fade Barrels and no more trying to circumnavigate the ad infested Fandom Wiki to get to the Kitty’s prison solution. Crafted specifically for me.

-Mechanical Things: The game is optimized insanely well. Both when It comes to your PC and the gameplay. I’m amazed how well it runs on my PC when games like BG3 and Cyberpunk make my CPU scream. Love that. As far as gameplay goes: everything is super streamlined and designed to be as un-annoying as possible. No carry weight, no collectibles as annoying and unrewarding as the shards and mosaics. The maps are easy to parse. The game does not bombard you with useless NPCs, banter can’t be interrupted and characters catch up on banter at the Lighthouse if you’ve been avoiding certain party comps by accident. The quest locator is actually helpful. Skill points can be refunded. Looting is easy and finding shit feels rewarding.

-Characters: Honestly they do have some interesting things going on and while most characters feel a little hollow so far, I was pleasantly surprised by Davrin and Bellara. Davrin is the one I’m romancing and while the actual romance isn’t groundbreaking I’m glad I chose him. Yes, his character has a lot to do with Assan and his arc, but he does have stuff going on of his own. He’s very refreshing because some of the things he says low key both makes you think and also worry about him. He’s also not your usual preppy jock type. He can be a little mean sometimes. He’s artistic and principled. He has some remnants of “opinions I don’t agree with” that I love early DA for. When it comes to Bellara, she absolutely breaks the sort of Manic Pixie/Quirky Awkward young coded girl mold. It is the fact that there is self awareness and hints of history of failure and isolation in her words. There is also masking and over-clarification that I can relate to personally. I hope there is stuff like that to other companions when I get to know them better.

Visuals: the UI and Locations are stunning. The outfits the best the game has had so far(tho wish the overall look was less stylized) The blighted stuff(sans the ogres) and the Crossroads. Beautiful.

-Dwarf Lore: started out as fucking cheesy but I just finished meeting Valta and I’m seated.

-Solas Stuff: Hated the man for a while. Caved and made a solavellan to import to get more story stuff. NGL he is actually tolerable/interesting to me in this game.

Overall: A sickly sweet combo of Disappointed and Impressed. And I’m still gonna be playing. I am used to not liking something about every DA game. That’s part of the fun for me. But damn is this one testing me. Am I having a lot of fun playing it? Absolutely. Am I finding it difficult to get through a concerning amount of dialogue…yeah. It does still feel like a DA game but also like if someone made a pg-13 live action of Inquisition and then made a supplementary game based off that. If I forget that it’s supposed to be a sequel and just treat it like an action game with plot then it’s easier. And like I’m sure at least half of what I listed as a negative can be attributed to EA meddling or prev iterations of the game being inseparable. Anyway. Can’t wait to see the ending and I will add more thoughts when I’m done.

[prince-liest]

I know you’ve gotten asks already talking about how happy they are that you’re going more in depth on the subject of Vox being trans in your next installment, but I can’t help myself… I’m so excited that you’re writing about that. It can be difficult to find trans rep in fandom spaces sometimes and your stories are so well written that this is like a gift from god. SO ANYWAY I’m super happy and your works are amazing and I just hope you know how many people value your works for all that they give.

Secondly, I was wondering whether or not Vox would have been trans on earth or just in hell? I mean I’m sure it would be difficult considering the time period but I also couldn’t think of a reason why he would be cis on earth but trans in hell. UNLESS he realized he was trans in hell/was finally able to do something about it?? Anyway, all of this is just speculation, I am only curious!!

Regardless, great work. It genuinely means a lot to me, if no one else :)

Oh, man, I'm ngl, one of my little, "Wait! I can do anything I want!!!!" moments of going mad with power once I got more and more experience at writing was realizing that I could just trans anyone's gender at-will and I didn't need anyone's permission for that. I still remember the first time I quietly decided an OC of mine was trans (love you, Laledy, you obnoxious asshole). I'm always a little apprehensive to start writing trans characters in new fandoms, mostly because I've been in a number of fandoms that have corners that get very tetchy about their weird gender role stuff, but it's consistently been met with such a positive reaction that it really brings me joy. So thank you so very, very much!!

My personal take on Vox in 666 specifically (a lot of which isn't going to come up because he does not want to get into it) is that he wasn't personally really in a position or environment conducive to considering trans-ness as, like, a thing that happens when he was alive, and he put his all into putting on The Correct Gender Performance with the vim and aplomb that we see from him in canon, plus all the underlying bullshit that goes into maintaining that facade. So, y'know. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, minus the Jewish. Which did not do amazing things for his mental health, not that he let himself pay attention to that at the time!

And then he wakes up, in hell, with this weird-ass demon body with a television for a head, and - well, it just makes sense to present as a man at that point, doesn't it? Hell is dog-eat-dog, and he's not going to pick the submissive gender to put himself on the back foot from the start!

He figures out what the fuck being trans even is eventually, just. Not for a while, and not until after someone like Valentino, having known and assumed that Vox is trans as a given for fucking months, mentions it offhandedly to Vox, who had been mentally describing himself as "just lying about his sex like those girls in stories that get shit done by dressing up as men". Then he gets to have his own little spiral about it, and also why it's upsetting him, and why he felt so vulnerable about Valentino knowing, and why Valentino specifically, Mr. Fishnets, Heels, and Microminis, is the one that ended up in a position not only to know this about Vox but for Vox to feel comfortable having any kind of sex with. It wasn't something Vox had to analyze back when it was just "her" freaky boyfriend being into pegging!

Okay, fuck, I have even more feelings about trans Vox than I thought I did, hahahaha.

Might fuck around and write a staticmoth-centric prequel interlude at some point if I have the brain cells for it. Vox is a lot more confident and comfortable with his gender now, to the point where he can absolutely see fucking around in a dress for kinky reasons as crossdressing and not being forced back into a box that doesn't fit, but it'd be neat to explore the earlier days. Val isn't here for gender, he's here to be sexy, but Vox... this IS the origin of the daddy kink, just saying.

[uceyliyahh]

UNDER YOUR TOUCH

Summary: After her difficult breakup, Tiana wanted to start anew with her life. That's when she realized her life would be better when she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 3250

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Tiana

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️

@pinkwithhearts @jstarr86 @420days @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @bebesobrielo @hunnidmilly @zillasvilla @fearlesschimera @yana3sworld @skyesthebomb @xbriexx

XIII.

trinity_fatu, biancabelairwwe, zillafatu and others like your post.

uceyjucey: she knows imma spoil her ass rotten. 😩 tianasworld: 🤗🤗 uceyjucey: @ tianasworld wifey 🤍 trinity_fatu: JOSH WIFE HER UP NEOW! uceyjucey: @ trinity_fatu chill sis I'm not finna rush into that. biancabelairwwe: omggg Joshua stop playin dawg. zillafatu: you better wife her up cuzzo fasho 🫡 theyhatelani: this pick me ass girl uceyjucey: @ theyhatelani gtfo

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uceyjucey, theyhatekai, MontezFordWWE and others liked your post.

tianasworld: I love it when he spoils me😩🤭 uceyjucey: yk imma spoil you mamas with yo' cute ass. 😮‍💨 tianasworld: @ uceyjucey 🤭 theyhatekai: take me off the restraining order tink tianasworld: @ theyhatekai didn't I just block you? damn how many accounts you got? biancabelairwwe: bestie can yall get married now? Like I can drive yall to the courthouse to get it done I want a niece. 🥲🥲 MontezFordWWE: I see you uce spoiling ya woman.

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TIANA

Jey has been doing a lot for me these past couple of weeks, taking me out on dates, going to the beach, or taking me on late-night walks to talk about things. It just made my heart flutter, and I love him even more.

He was trying to make me feel stress free away from all the drama that's been circulating lately between his ex-girlfriend then to Kai and his parents keep bugging me about the restraining order which I'm not taking in off I don't need him near me.

Ever since I put hands on his momma he's been trying to get in touch with me to speak on the matter but I didn't have nothing else to say to him nor to her as well it was getting ridiculous at this point.

'Why his people so delusional just excusing the fact that he put his hands on me.'

I was out back smoking some weed. I took a few puffs before putting it down on the tray, admiring the view as the wind was blowing.

Jey had to go back to work which kind of made me sad and I missed him so much. I haven't really been at work or even check up on my nail shop since that incident between me and Kai including Emma.

But I told my clients that I'll be back soon due to personal reasons, and they all understood, which I loved, honestly.

I took a few more puffs from the pre-roll blunt as I blew the smoke in the air, and a satisfying sigh escaped my lips.

I pulled my phone out while scrolling through my social media, replying to some of my clients and others in the comments section. As I was doing that, I saw that Bianca had texted me.

Breezy sent 3+ messages Breezy: Hey bestiee I see that Joshua has been taking you out lately you deserve it tho period. Breezy: also ion wanna bring it up but his mama came over again today but this time we wasn't home I saw it on the ring camera. Breezy: when is yall going to get married and have babies already?

I chuckled at her last text message that I read she's so dramatic.

Tiana: girl fuck his mama atp because I'm over it I'm not taking Kai of the restraining order. Breezy: period as you should I'm getting tired of her too. Tiana: speaking of marriage and kids B ion wanna rush into all of that I don't want it to be a disaster you know? Breezy: I understand girl so how are you goin to feel when he does pop out with that question? Tiana: imma say YES duhh girl but then I'll be crying😭😭 Breezy: girl I am done with you chileee are you alone at his crib? Tiana: yeah, he's at work which I'm sad I miss my man girl Breezy: he'll be home girl but I was just checking in on you I miss you being at home. Tiana: Montez getting in your nerves? 😭😭 Breezy: YESSS Tiana: Girl bye you know you love him. Breezy: that's true but I'll text you later girly Tiana: byeee

I smoked the last bit of the blunt as I put it out before heading back inside the house and hearing the keys jiggling, knowing that Jey finally came home.

"Mamas? I'm home!" He shouted.

I ran over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he told me to jump, and I did while his hands were resting on top of my ass, carrying me to the couch.

He removed his book bag and threw it next to him while he kept me in place on his lap. I cupped his face with my small hands and kissed him on the lips.

"I missed you bubba," I said pulling away.

"I missed you too, ma; what did you do when I was gone?" Jey asked.

I explained to him about my day and the talking to Bianca about what she had told me before he came home. Him listening and watching me ramble about my day just made my heart flutter.

I felt him caressing my cheek in the process of me rambling which made me look away for a second causing him to chuckle.

Grabbing my chin pulling me in for another kiss but this time it was different. We made out as his tongue slipped into my mouth as I gripped onto his mullet.

As we continued to passionately tongue kiss each other, I felt him scooping me up from my thighs while taking us upstairs towards his bedroom, not removing our lips from each other.

He pinned me on the bed, never leaving my lips as I felt him removing my clothing along with his as his lips escaped mine putting them onto my neck, sucking it like a vampire.

As a moan escaped from my lips as I felt him rub my pussy as I continued to grip onto his mullet.

"I haven't even did anything to you yet and you're wet for me baby." He rasped.

SMUT WARNING He had my legs pinned behind my head as he was digging his dick deep inside of me. All I could do was moan his name loudly, gripping onto his biceps tightly.

"I love how you're just taking it mama." He whispered as he held onto my throat pounding me senselessly.

My walls were clenching around him as a groan escaped his lips gazing down at me. Watching my facial expression turn up every time he dug deeper inside of me, which satisfied him.

He leaned over to place a soft kiss on my lips as I let out a gasp when he pushed his dick deeper inside of my gushy insides.

He watched me tremble underneath him. "C'mon mamas you got it give it me." Jey started to circle his hips hitting my spot causing me to hold onto him tightly.

Our skins were slapping against each other as our moans and groans were heard all over the room. I didn't know how much I could take from this man.

My eyes were rolling in the back of my head. "J-Joshhhh F-fuck." I whined weakly, feeling that familiar pit going down my stomach.

I always felt very overwhelmed when it time for me to nut on this man. I tried to push him away by his stomach, but he slapped my hands away, drilling my wet cunt vigorously.

"Stop runnin' from me and take this dick Ma." He rasped into my ear feeling his balls slapping against my clit.

I scratched his back causing him to hiss as he rubbed his thumb on my clit which drove me insane.

He continued to grip my throat firmly, not trying to hurt me, as I felt my toes curling up while his strokes were getting sloppier and sloppier.

I was tapping onto his back, signaling that I was going to cum. "Use your words baby, let daddy know what's up." I loved when he sweet talked me  making me want to stop using birth control and have his kids now.

I felt my legs shaking violently underneath him as I let out a loud moan while cumming all over him. He kissed me on the cheek as he continued to sweet talk me.

Cursing underneath his breath as he continued to pound my now sensitive cunt deeper while I grip onto his mullet tightly.

Not too long after, he came inside of me, filling me up with his seed as a groan escaped his lips. Jey pulled out seeing me shaking violently while trying to catch my breath.

SMUT OVER. Jey went inside his bathroom getting everything prepared for us to take a bath together. As I lie there in his bed still shaking violently trying to calm myself down.

He for sure put that thang on me. I've seen him coming out his bathroom holding his hand out for me to get up knowing damn well I couldn't walk.

"Can you walk mama?" Jey asked.

"Yes of course Josh I can walk, hell no nigga I cannot walk sir." I said sarcastically while rolling my eyes.

"very funny tink c'mon I'll carry you." I held his hand as he carried towards his bathroom while shutting the door behind him.

Sitting me down on the edge of the tub as I attempted to get in by myself as Jey did the same thing. he wrapped his arms around my waist as me and him sigh in relief as the warm water hit our body.

I lay my head back on his chest as he gave me a soft kiss on the lips.

"How are you feeling baby?" He asked.

"I'm feeling fine love, more relaxed than ever." I said as I looked up at him.

"That's good; my mama keeps asking me when we are going to get married and have kids together." I nod my head while listening to him.

"I told her I didn't want to rush or pressure you into that yet until you're ready." I loved how he respected my wishes because I am confident that I want to marry and have his babies too.

I smiled at him as he placed a kiss on my thick lips  causing us to get caught up in another make out session but this time I was in control as my hand snaked down around his harden member.

Stroking it up and down as he threw his head back. "Why don't you come suck it I missed yo' pretty ass lips on my dick mama."

SMUT WARNING

We were still in the tub that was filled with warm water and bubbles as I was bobbing my head up and down on his dick sucking his sensitive tip.

Moans and Groans escaped his lips as he gazed down at me, going down on him while throwing his head back.

"Shit mama keep goin'" He grabbed a whole load of my hair, thrusting his hips up and down as he face fucked me.

As I was deep throating his dick I was circling my tongue on his tip while he pushed his dick deeper inside of my throat causing me to gag a bit.

He was sweet talking me through it giving me compliments and encouraging me to keep going down on him.

He pulled me back up, hearing that pop go out of my mouth as he kissed me on the lips. I continued to down on him deeper feeling the tip of his dick hit the back of my throat trying not to gag.

"I want you to gag on this dick mama, make me nut." He rasped.

I swirled my tongue around his tip as I gazed up at him, seeing him gripping onto the side of the tub while rolling his eyes in the back of his head.

It made me feel satisfied seeing like this since he always have me like that so a little payback won't hurt.

I had him shaking underneath me as he kept clenching his legs tightly. "Make me nut mama, make me fuck..." his moans we heard all over the bathroom.

I felt his dick twitching inside of my mouth as I kept sucking the tip because that's all I needed to do to get him there.

After a while he groaned loudly as he nut all over my face while I was tapping his dick onto my tongue in the process.

He was shaking violently just like how I was while gazing down at me.

"Fuck mama, that felt so good." He breathed out seeing his tatted chest going up and down trying to catch his breath.

SMUT OVER.

✧.* JEY Me and Tiana were cuddled up together in the bed as she was sleeping soundly meanwhile I was scrolling through my social media seeing everyone supporting our relationship.

That's when her phone went off not wanting her to wake up I leaned above her body grabbing her phone in the process. Seeing that Bianca was calling her so I picked it up.

OTP Breezy: Tiana? I need you and Josh home like now. Tiana: this is Josh what's going on B? Breezy: Malakai and his momma are banging on our door looking for Tiana and Montez is trying to tell them to leave. Tiana: I can come over there real quick Tiana is sleeping right now B. Breezy: Please Josh that would be great. Tiana: I'll be there in a few minutes B. Breezy: thank you Josh.

CALLED ENDED.

Don't this guy ever quit? Why is he harassing her people like this? I looked at Tiana who was sleeping on my chest peacefully as I placed her on her pillow quietly without trying to wake her up.

I put on the clothes I had on earlier, grab my keys, and head out the door, texting Jon.

Twin📌: I just got your message what's up uce? Jey: Tiana's ex and his momma are messing with Bianca and Montez so I need backup just in case some shit go down. Twin📌: where's Tiana? Jey: she is at my crib sleeping right now I'm otw over to her house. Twin📌: ight I'll tell Trin I'm heading out so she won't get worried. Jey: ight uce.

I was driving fast towards Tiana and em house going to handle this. I finally pulled up to the crib seeing his momma car there while they were banging on their door.

I got out of my car seeing Jon pulling in the driveway he came up to me as we dabbed it up before walking up to them.

"Aye, imma need yall to get the fuck on like deadass." I said while I stood there with my arms folded.

They both got startled while turning their heads looking at me and my brother Jon standing behind them.

"Oh, it's yo' bitch ass where the fuck is Tiana?" Malakai questioned.

"Her whereabouts are none of your business fuck boy, so why don't you and yo' momma leave, or it'll be some problems." He came up to me showing his strap something that Tiana was telling me about.

I chuckled at him then looked at Jon who was also chuckling with me too this fool think I'm scared of a gun. I stood my ground being all up in his face while looking into his eyes.

"You might wanna back up, boy, that damn gun. Don't scare me; I'll still beat yo' ass in the process." I spat, pushing him off, causing him to tumble a bit.

"Fuck you, you don't deserve Tiana I should've beat her ass some mor—" before he could finish his sentence I sucker punched him in his jaw causing him to fall on the ground seeing his momma coming to his aid.

I was on top of him beating his head in. I was not finna tolerate him talking down on Tiana like that when she's not here to defend for herself.

As I was beating his head in his momma tried to pull me off but Bianca came to my aid pushing his momma out the way as I continued to beat the fuck out of him.

Montez seen that ol' boy was trying to reach for his strap but instantly grabbed it throwing it somewhere meanwhile I grabbed a whole load of his hair dragging him as a threw him against the brick wall, hearing him winch in pain.

"Next time you wanna speak on Tiana you better respect her, and YOU don't deserve her like I do bitch ass boy." I kicked him in his stomach as Jon held me back from him as I calmed down.

"Calm down Uce, you know Tiana don't want nun happening to you." Jimmy said as I nodded my head agreeing with him.

His momma slapped me across the face as I held my face while smirking a little bit she was so lucky that Tiana was at my crib sleeping right now.

"HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO MY SON I CAN GET YOU ARRESTED!" she shouted.

"you and yo' bummy ass son will also get arrested for trespassing  and goin against the restraining order." I said as I felt my phone buzzing.

I saw that Tiana was calling me as I answered the phone.

OTP ZaddyJey🤍: mama? What's up? Mamas🩷: where are you right now bubba? ZaddyJey: I'm handling business right now mama what are you doin up? Mamas🩷: don't sugarcoat that shit with me Josh what's happening? ZaddyJey🤍: I'm over at your crib because ol' boy and his momma were messing with Bianca and em so Bianca called you but you were sleep. Mamas🩷: is everything okay? ZaddyJey🤍: yeah mama I'm handling it I'll be home in a little bit okay? now go back to sleep. Mamas🩷: okay baby I love you. ZaddyJey🤍: I love you too ma.

CALLED ENDED.

"Was that Tiana uce?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah, she was wondering where I was at but I told her I'll be home in a bit after this shit is over with," I replied as he nodded his head.

We saw his momma getting him up as he was limping in pain. He tried running up on me, and I sucker punched him again, as he went limp on the ground.

"Damnnnn," everyone said it together as his momma was freaking out, tapping her hand on his face.

"Y'all can leave now, so I can get back to my woman at home." I said as Jon threw my keys towards my way.

I dabbed up with Montez and hugged Bianca before heading out back home.

✧.* I finally made it home as i unlocked the door with my key while shutting it behind me making sure I locked it too. I went upstairs take off my shirt and pants that I wore seeing Tiana sleeping peacefully.

I got underneath the covers with her, pulling her back onto my chest as I felt her shift in her sleep while rubbing her eyes seeing my facial features in the dark.

"Baby? Your back?" She mumbled softly.

"Yeah I'm back tink you can head back to sleep now ight." I said softly while giving her a kiss on her forehead.

I got comfortable as I put one of my hands in the back of my head while closing my eyes going to sleep.

Under Your Touch.

A/N: whewww chileeee they are doing way to much messing with Bianca and em' but Jey stood on big business also sorry for the smuts 😭😭 it was giving pretty much bridgerton with Daphne and Simon 😭😭

I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments.

Stay Ucey.

[samlee2224]

Can we hear about your milgram oc 🥺🥺

( no pressure ofc )

I have 12 Milgram OCs! But now there are only 8 ( or 9 ? ) people who have stories. I'll introduce them to you!!↓

(I use Translate app and my little abilities, hope you can read and understand it.)

In Samleegram, We have 2 prison guards and 10 prisoners

Prison Guards

[000]

Name : Es (エス)

CV : Sakamoto Maaya (坂本 真綾)

Gender : Unknown

Age : 15

Birthday : Unknown

Height : 153 cm.

Bloodtype : Unknown

Image color : #8EC6BB (Monte Carlo)

Es bright and cheerful, They is close to almost every prisoner. They always make free time to talk with prisoners. But no one knew that they was secretly recording prisoners' information all the time.

They patrolled at night every day. Many people think it's because they works hard. But actually they was just trying to find a way out of here.

Es often gets teased by Ar for being short. So they asks Jackalope for a new pair of shoes. That makes them 160 cm tall. which is higher than Ar. LOL

((Es rarely wears a hat because it makes seeing difficult.😢 Es always cooks for everyone to eat, sometimes some prisoners come to help them. (but Ar doesn't help.)))

__________

[000]

Name : Ar (アル)

CV : Uchiyama Yumi (内山 夕実)

Gender : Unknown

Age : 15

Birthday : Unknown

Height : 159 cm.

Bloodtype : Unknown

Image color : #8EB8C6 (Polo Blue)

In fact, Ar was the assistant prison guard. Its main duty is to interrogate prisoners. They was verbally violent during the interrogation. In this prison, there was hardly anyone to like them. (← It should be like that)

Ar is very foul-mouthed and has a temper. (💀) Do you see that whistle? They usually blow it when prisoners don't behave as they please. ( Why does it sound cute..? )

((Ar doesn't often wear hats either. But it's because he's just lazy. Sometimes Ar wears Es’s hat because Ar can't find their own.))

__________

Prisoners

[021]

Name : Kinoshita Haru (木下 晴)

CV : Kitamura Eri (喜多村 英梨)

Gender : Female

Age : 22

Birthday : January 6

Height : 173 cm.

Bloodtype : A

Image color : #F59795 (Wewak)

Haru hardly speaks to anyone. She usually communicates by writing on the board. She also isn't good at facial expressions, which makes some people think she's strange.

Haru often smokes with Masato (024) regularly. And She seem to be trying to approach Akihiko (26) for unknown reasons.

She used to like to sing and play music, she used to set up a band with a close friend before. But why did she stop doing it? Hmmm? you'll have to wait until this part of the story is revealed.✌️

((I intend to design Haru to look like a man. Due to her past story But she is a woman. However You can use the anypronoun with her that she/her he/him or they/them. She doesn't seriously about this.))

__________

[022]

Name : Murata Kei (村田 軽 )

CV : Murata Ayumu (村瀬 歩)

Gender : Male

Age : 14

Birthday : August 19

Height : 154 cm.

Bloodtype : AB

Image color : #BCCCD1 (Link Water)

Kei is the youngest prisoner. He has dark circles under his eyes that are clearly visible. It's because he almost didn't sleep. Even though he went to sleep, he had a nightmare anyway, so he thought it was better to take that time to study.

He often said that he was not guilty , Never kill people , Milgram caught him wrong. And he wanted to leave here very much. 'My father will definitely find me.' He always said that.

Kei looks particularly close to Hinata(023), maybe because of his similar age, he often follows her like a chick(?) Everyone in prison always sees them next to each other.

((He used to ask for cosmetics from Es, so Es thought that in fact, he might love beauty?))

__________

[023]

Name : Tsugiyama Hinata (杉山 日向)

CV : Hanazawa Kana (花澤 香菜)

Gender : Female

Age : 15

Birthday : March 23

Height : 148 cm.

Bloodtype : A

Image color : #F4CFC5 (Coral Candy)

Hinata is a friendly person and always talks to others. Everyone sees her cheerful and looks polite all the time. But once in a while she accidentally slipped out of a rude word. Make everyone shock…

She bandaged her arms all the time. Ritsu (028) volunteered to change the bandage for her often, but she often refused him and did it on her own. She didn't want anyone to see the that wound.

Hinata didn't have the attitude of wanting to leave milgram at all. Hinata thought that this place was much more comfortable than her house. If not sticking to the vote that she didn't like it.

((Hinata doesn't like the uniform that Milgram provides. Because it makes everyone see the bandage clearly.💢))

__________

[024]

Name : Kimura Masato (木村 正人)

CV : Hirata Hiroki (平田 広明)

Gender : Male

Age : 43

Birthday : February 20

Height : 187 cm.

Bloodtype : O

Image color : #78BC8E (Bay Leaf)

He is the oldest person in milgram. He lived a sluggish life as if he had completely lost faith in this world. Sometimes he acted like a father of children in prison.👴

Masato talks to Ritsu(028) most often. discussing life problems, adult edition (sounds depressing). He often smokes with Haru(021) on a regular basis, even if the other party lets him talk to a single swim.

Masato didn't pay much attention to milgram, But if he could choose, he wanted to get out of here, Because he still didn't complete his duty.

((He thinks it's not bad to have free cigarettes.))

__________

[026]

Name : Matsui Akihiko (松井 昭彦)

CV : Taniyama Kishou (谷山 紀章)

Gender : Male

Age : 18

Birthday : April 1

Height : 169 cm.

Bloodtype : A

Image color : #FFBF65 (Rajah)

I haven't made much of his story yet. But as you can see, He's not very friendly.

Akihiko often quarrels with Ar regularly (He actually quarrels with everyone but.. uh… with Ar the most.)

__________

[028]

Name : Itsuki Ritsu (樹 律)

CV : Furukawa Makoto (古川 慎)

Gender : Male

Age : 35

Birthday : June 30

Height : 182 cm.

Bloodtype : B

Image color : #3359BF (Cerulean Blue)

Please marry m- NO, I mean, Ritsu always takes care of others, maybe because he's a doctor, so he's trusted by everyone.

He is very close to Masato(024), probably because Masato is the male of his age closest to himself.

((Look at his smile ^^ 🥺))

__________

[030]

Name : Higuchi Ryota (樋口 僚太)

CV : Uchida Yuma (内田 雄馬)

Gender : Male

Age : 20

Birthday : October 12

Height : 174 cm.

Bloodtype : O

Image color : #C1D48C (Deco)

Ryota doesn't have any other information yet, I'll update it later!

__________

Thank you for reading to the end!!

[highonincense]

One thing I absolutely despise in drarry fics —and by this I mean a specific subset, not like in general cause there are many amazing fics— is the characterization of harry (and draco), the way he's an absolute fucking doormat!!!! I get it y'all are tryna portray him as a social dimwit, it can be done in a normal way without making him seem like a piece of cardboard! Are we talking about the same dude here?? You don't actually have to completely demolish a character, take away their key traits just to make the other half of the ship look better.

Let me give a pointwise description:

1. Dude stutters after every bloody sentence, like he's so overwhelmed talking to draco "smirking, smooth as butter, sardonic, sleek, godly" Malfoy who keeps insulting him every fucking second. Do you really think that harry would entertain that bullshit, especially in post-war fics!!! Like he'd just take it and not put him in his place?

2. I read this fic long ago and I don't remember the name, but good god it was unbearable. Basically the golden trio apologizes to draco for his tragic life that they were responsible for after the war? Like wtf? Why is there even a need to do that? 😭 That was too much and I stopped midway

3. Again, draco "3 OWLs" Malfoy, some supersmart / second coming of tom riddle, keeps patronizing every action of harry, the amount of times harry's intelligence is insulted? Immediate no from me, like are we still doing the whole "harry dumb mf potter is unobservant, slow, stupid, can't function without some rat hissing in his ear that he's an idiot 24/7"? Don't you think it's lame?

4. Harry has to always put up with his shitty attitude, I am all for character development, I know characters are multi dimensional and complex, and showing draco having a difficult personality is well and good, but it starts to get annoying when there's no real growth in him. I've read fics where he's absolutely despicable until the end which is covered up as him being a dickhead in general and harry "fondly" keeps up with his shit. *gag* canon harry would NEVER

5. I think it genuinely wouldn't make a difference if harry was there or not, I am not kidding or being dramatic, those fics might as well be character × y/n fics

All of this leads me to hate draco's character more! You portray him as this insufferable bastard who has a heart of gold apparently (where?) who has no real growth, shows no humility or regret or even pretends to and you think harry will put up with that?

It would be interesting if he starts out that way, works on himself and grows and changes, that would be more tolerable and interesting!

But no, he's always this annoying guy who hurls insults, keeps mocking harry or his friends every other line, you might argue it's in his character, but aren't those the traits which make him unlikeable? like those aren't cute or quirky? wouldn't it make more sense to show him grow out of it? It's really annoying

And harry, let's not go there, he's a completely new character, might as well be an oc atp, you can't even compare him to canon harry, that's how bad it is! I still haven't completely discussed it cause it's already getting long, but he's this wet bloody blanket and I can't stand it, the gryffs (except Hermione) in general are shown as some bumbling buffoons who can't differentiate between their hand and foot!! And the slytherins are all savvy, masterminds, geniuses... I really don't know whether it's admirable cause it's weird seeing them pushed into these moulds where they can only behave a certain way!

I'm so tired this is still going on like?? Why are their characters such caricatures? All of this sounds like it may have been a thing of past, but I am appalled it's still happening!!!

This is not directed at all drarry fics out there, cause there are some gorgeous fics written by amazing authors who fucking get these characters and make it about them, about their relationship and explore it in a depth and nail their characterizations without making either one of them boring. There are a good number of fics that I actually enjoy cause of the way they write drarry's characters, which makes or breaks the fic imho

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 2 (MBJ x OC)

Warnings: noneeeee

“You fuckin’ idiot!” Alex seethed, the clicks of her heels reverberated throughout Michael’s living room as she stalked, TMZ playing loudly in the background. “What part of ‘cleaning up the image’ was difficult to understand?” 

Michael gripped the back of his chair in his office in frustration. It was not just the shitty situation he found himself in when he woke up this morning, it was also his manager’s attitude. However, he did not correct Alex. He had been working with her for most of his career and the reason Alex had lasted this long was that she was unafraid of calling Michael a ‘fucking idiot’ if he was acting like one. 

“Why didn’t you just call the ambulance and then wait to leave? Did you need to do the walk of shame across the hotel lobby with her??” 

Michael scoffed. “If you think I’m that type of nigga, you really don’t know me. She was unconscious. How was I supposed to know there were fuckin’ cameras in the lobby??” 

Alex threw his hands up in the air. “Because it’s 2022 at the fucking St. Regis! There’re cameras every fuckin’ where! Do you think I have you go in back doors and service elevators for fucking fun??? Because it is easier??? Why do you insist on making my job harder?? Do you hate me or something? We’re on the biggest run of your fucking career. And you jeopardize it for some pussy?” 

Michael’s fingers massaged his temples. He had not gotten a single break in the last three days. He felt like he was stuck in the deepest circle of hell since he drove off from Raven’s apartment days prior. Every moment of his day was consumed with one thought, one singular person: Raven. What was she doing? How was she healing? Did she come up with the money she needed? Should he write her a check and drop it off anonymously? Would she even accept that or appreciate it? Question after question ran through his brain regardless of how hard he tried to excommunicate her from it. She was stuck to him like super glue. He replayed their one night together over and over again, jerking off on more than one occasion dreaming of the things he wished to do to her body. So many disgusting and filthy things. 

This disgusting pining lasted for two days before he gave in, last night, and called Helen to schedule another date with her. And it was not even about the sex. She had a concussion so he would not feel comfortable fucking even if she was up for it. He just wanted to see her, check in on her. And that terrified him. Never had a one-night stand or woman he paid to sleep with captured his mind quite like this. He loved fucking Tasha but he did not pine for her or even really think about her outside when he was horny and needed release. But Raven… she was something he had never experienced before. And he hated it. So in a split second decision, he booked Tasha instead, in hopes that fucking another woman would get her out of his mind once and for all. And it worked for a moment. The few hours of sleep he got after leaving Tasha was the first Raven-free sleep he had gotten until he woke up to his face plastered all over TMZ as he followed the EMTs wheeling her out of the hotel. 

The angle of the camera blocked her face, thankfully, but there was no mistaking him. The media ran with their own stories, some neutral and some speculating things Michael would never have dreamed of. It was a PR nightmare, which is why his manager was at his house to do damage control. However, Michael did not particularly care about his own reputation. He just worried if there was another angle with Raven’s face visible. He was used to being in the press, often for being attached to different random women, but Raven did not seem like the type who would enjoy such attention. And he did not even have her number to call and satisfy the small part of him that wanted to check in on her. The part of him he despised. 

“Are you even listening to me??” Alex called out, ending her rant to realize Michael’s mind was clearly elsewhere. 

Michael straightened up and pushed Raven out of his head for a moment, a true feat. 

“My bad. Look, I didn’t jeopardize anything. You can’t even see her face! Besides, no matter what the press says, everyone loves me, we’re good.” 

Alex shook her head. “That isn’t the point. You don’t think they won’t try to figure out who this girl is?? Try to piece together some story about something nefarious or terrible that happened? You were seen leaving a hotel with an unconscious woman… there are only a couple ways I can spin this shit that it doesn’t look bad for you. And just so you’re clear, people want to fuck you. They don’t love you. At best, people think you’re neutral and at worst, they think you’re an asshole. The only thing they all agree on is that you’re one of those things with extreme talent, a cute face and award-winning smile. So they ignore that ambiguity because because every woman and some men want to fuck you.”  

Michael walked over to his decanter, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He did not care that it was 10 am, it was 5 pm somewhere in the world, he supposed. 

“And now you’re drinking at 10 a.m. Should I add a stint in rehab to my list of things to spin this week?”

Michael chose to ignore that dig. “You made your point, Alexandra. I’m sorry. I’m an ass,” he admitted, which he knew was true. He would never win an award for sweetest personality. “So what can we do? What are the ways we can spin it?” 

She shrugged. “Well, the truth would be fine… embarrassing but unproblematic IF she wasn’t a prostitute. I’m all for the girls getting their money but now really isn’t the time in our culture for you to be attached to a prostitute.” 

“It’s 2022, who cares if I pay for sex?” 

“I think people care if you paid for sex and it was so rough you sent her to the damn hospital, Mike. That’s what people would care about. And then it’s a whole other thing… did she want it that rough, did she know it would be that rough, did she consent to whatever caused the accident? And the answer to all of those could be yes and we could say that but without her word, it’s murky as fuck. And then it begs reporters to ask the question, are there women with sorted tales of rough sex with Hollywood’s favorite movie star that they didn’t want even if this one was consensual? Also I don’t necessarily think it’s a good time to admit to the world that you pay for sex damn near every week.” 

“Plenty of men pay for sex, Alex.” 

“Sure and that’s fine. But people judge them too. When you’re handsome and could just be in a relationship. Look, I’m not judging but it sends a certain playboy, unattached message. And that shit was fine when you were 30 but we’re pushing 40. And you’re the one that said when Creed 3 comes out next year, you want to take the jump to directing more. Producers, studios need to see you as a serious person to take you seriously as a director. Denzel is serious, George Clooney is serious, John Krasinki is serious, Kevin Costner is serious. And studios trust them with projects because they are serious people! You know what all those men have in common?? They are settled, family men with beautiful wives who are kick ass in their own right and they DON’T frequent prostitutes! Or if they do, we don’t fucking know it because they aren’t plastered on TMZ. Look, I say this with all the love in the world for you… but you’re the definition of an unserious person and I need you to get serious before you’re a fucking 45, washed up actor wasting his incredible talent playin’ the same role in every action movie because no one takes you seriously.” 

Michael nodded. “I hear you. And I understand. I promised I’d clean it up and I slipped. But we can fix this… we always do. If the truth works, why don’t we just say that-” 

“Did you listen to anything I just said?” Alex immediately started to say before Michael cut her off. 

“With a minor lie… We say it was my girlfriend. We were enjoying a night after partying, had sex, fell off the bed, she hit her head, I took her to the hospital out of an abundance of caution. And we turn it back on the media and say they infringed on a private moment between us by turning a health emergency into a public spectacle.” 

Alex rubbed her forehead. “Thank God you are attractive,” she muttered to herself. “I mean in theory, that’s the ideal play but there’s one major flaw in that plan, you’re tragically single. Like I’ve known you for a decade and you’ve never even been romantically tied with a woman for more than a night. I can’t sell a girlfriend that doesn’t exist anymore than I can sell magic at Hogwarts. And there’s no woman that we could pass off as this girl in time. ” 

“What if we say it’s Raven… the actual girl?” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. There were flaws in the plan, he could recognize that. But he wanted to see her again and this might be his only option to do so.

“I’m all for a PR relationship, don’t get me wrong. They can be successful. But it won’t help you if and when one of her old clients comes out later and tells the world she was a prostitute. Then we are back where we started but worse because everyone knows you were in a fake relationship.”  

Michael shook his head. “Nah, nah, she’s perfect. I was her first real date so there are no clients to come out to say shit. Helen is hella strict with her girls, no press, so if I had to guess, she’s gonna fire her,” though the thought frustrated him as she did nothing wrong. “So there’ll be no record of her working for an agency. We can say we were tryin’ to keep it under wraps because she isn’t used to the spotlight. I haven’t been seen with a fling in months so we can say it’s fairly new. Besides, if there’s a camera with an angle on her face, it covers our asses.” 

Michael did not want to admit why he was fighting so hard to enter into a fake relationship with Raven. Did not want to admit it to Alex or himself. This was a dangerous plan, he knew it. There were so many reasons it was foolish and would fall apart. But he did not care about a single one of those reasons. He reasoned that this was a logical course of action. She was probably the best person to enter a fake relationship with too. She understood how to put on a show and what she was being paid for and knew that no feelings would be involved. This would be a mere business transaction, he would get her and his own feelings out of his system, and everyone would be happy. 

“It… could work,” she admitted. “But you’d have to keep up a public relationship with all the fixings for at least six months to sell it. You’d have to do everything I say, NO more visits with Tasha or any other woman. We’d need to get through the premiere of your current film next month, the holidays, the Creed premiere, nominations, and the Oscars in March before you could break it off. Would she even agree to that? Most of these relationships work because it’s mutually beneficial. You know another celebrity who could use the PR bump. What would even be in it for her?” 

“Let me worry about that, aight? Just trust me. I messed up, let me fix it this time. My first step as a serious person.” He flashed her his award winning smile, which made Alex laugh. 

“You realize I am the only woman on the planet that shit doesn’t work on?”

He shrugged. “You’ve stuck by me this long… I think it works on you too,” he winked at her.

“Barely,” she mumbled. She stared at him for a moment before surrendering to his plan. She did not really have a better one at the moment. “Fine. I can give you 12 hours to convince her. We need to get a statement out tomorrow morning. Fix this, Mike.” 

“Consider it already fixed,” he vowed, determined to clean up his own image and get what he wanted in the process. 

***

“Helen, please! I need this job!” 

“And I can’t have my girls plastered across Page Six and TMZ. Press brings attention I don’t need.” 

“You can’t even see my face!” Raven argued. “No one knows it’s me. Please don’t do this.” 

She knew Helen could hear her pleas but she also knew the woman did not care. “Honey, the internet will figure out who you are like that,” Raven could hear the faint snap of fingers through her phone. “And I can’t have you on my roster when they do. I told you if it went left, you were out. Gotta cut you loose.” 

“B-” The phone cut out as Helen hung up on her, clearly exhausted from arguing when there was no changing her mind. 

Raven slid back into bed and tried to keep the tears from falling. Not out of pride this time, she was alone with no one to hear her sobs. But she knew crying would only make the dull pain in her head worse. She tried to hold it in until it became difficult to breath, small gasps filling her quiet bedroom. She grabbed her pillow and forced it over her face to muffle them as they turned into all out sobs. 

Helen was right, the internet would realize who she was in no time. And then her life would truly be over. She’d never get a job anywhere ever again, she’d likely lose the day job she had right now. She shuddered to think what her family would say. Likely, it would give her father the excuse he always wanted to toss her out of their lives for good, but part of her felt like that might have been the one silver lining to everything. And before that shoe dropped, she would have to figure out the larger looming financial problems barreling toward her. While her bills were just barely covered with her job and residuals, she had not come up with the rest of the money she promised her family and her only way of making fast cash was gone. .

She just needed a break, a break from the stress of life. The last 18 months had been hell and she just felt like she was dragging around a weight that only got heavier and heavier. But if she stopped or put it down, everything would crumble. She was exhausted and worn out. She curled up in her bed, crying to herself, praying God would send something to help her and fast.

***

Michael knocked at the door of Raven’s apartment. If he hadn’t been there a mere three days prior, he would’ve been convinced his driver took him to the wrong address. He teetered on his heels for a moment or two until the door swung open. 

“Hello?” The young woman, a cute curly-haired light skin girl, opened the door. “Oh umm can I help you?” 

Michael could tell she recognized him, however, he gave her kudos for not completely melting and losing all common sense like most women do when they saw him.

“Hi, I have the right building but I might have the wrong apartment,” he admitted. “Looking for Raven?” 

“Oh yea, she’s in her room. Come in. She’s a bit under the weather though… not sure if she’s up for company,” she gave him an apologetic shrug before calling out for Raven. “Rae!” 

Michael glanced around their small apartment. Though the building and neighborhood left a lot to be desired in his opinion, their apartment was a cute two bedroom. Fairly small, he decided, for two people, but it was quaint. His eyes went to the floor to ceiling bookshelf tucked in the corner. It was clear someone had started off extremely meticulous and organized with it, each row perfectly color coordinated. However, the person had acquired too many books to maintain that level of organization, many sat in neat stacks on the floor in front of the bookshelf, growing so tall, they obscured the bottom shelf.

“That girl consumes books like they’re air,” her roommate remarked, following Michael’s line of sight to the bookshelf.  

He did not even get to acknowledge her statement when one of the closed doors off the living room opened. 

Raven emerged, her eyes red and puffy, all of her curly hair piled on top of her head with a bright colored scarf. 

“What’s up Tiff?” Her words were punctured by sniffles, which let Michael know she had been crying. 

An inexplicable wave of concern hit him. He could guess what had caused it and immediately felt guilty, an emotion he rarely felt about anything. 

“You have a visitor?” 

Raven glanced up, almost jumping when she realized Michael B. Jordan was standing in her living room. He watched as she hastily wiped her eyes and glanced down at her disheveled appearance. She still looked insanely beautiful, even in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings.

“Umm.. h-hi. T-thanks, Tiff. W-what are you doing here?” 

“You two know each other?” 

“Yea we met the other night… at that party…” She shook her head quietly as Michael started to open his mouth. “Umm wanna talk in my room?” She gestured toward her bedroom, Michael nodding as he followed her. 

“Nice to meet you,” he threw over his shoulder to Tiffany as he followed Raven back into her room. Her face was neutral as she ushered him inside and shut the door behind him.

She had never been more displeased to see anyone in her life. Her date with him was supposed to be her big break and all it did was send her tumbling back to the bottom again. She was not mad at him, he had done nothing wrong. But between her concussion and the inability to stop thinking about him for the last three days and now losing her job, it was all too much to handle. And she knew he only came down there to talk about the photo and ensure she was not going to say anything to the media. 

“What are you doing here? In case you were confused, this counts as creepy stalker shit! Like right up there at the top of the list!” 

Michael was not expecting her visceral reaction to him, one of anger. However, he did not let it deter him. 

“I needed to talk to you.”

“About the photo?” she rushed out, just wanting to get him out of her room so she could go back to wallowing. “Look, you wasted a trip. I already lost my job so if they figure out it was me, it’ll just look like a one-night stand. And I don’t plan on selling our wild night together to a magazine or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. That wouldn’t be fair to you.” She walked over to her bed and plopped down. “So whatever you came to offer me to keep me quiet about your kinks and what happened, keep it. And if you want me to sign something, whatever, that’s fine. Just hand it over so we can get this over with.” 

He wrinkled his nose in offense at the assumption that he was there to pay her off. While he did have a certain “playboy, bad boy” image, he would have hoped he did not give off the vibe that he wanted to buy her silence. He knew it happened but it was not his style.

“That wasn’t what I came by to talk about at all. I do wanna talk about the photo but first, I just wanted to see how you were doing? I didn’t have your number and wanted to check on you. You got a concussion and then the leak… you were already stressed at the hospital, figured this didn’t make shit easier. Thought you could use a friendly face that knows what’s goin’ on?”  

Her expression softened. She had not expected that. Nor had she expected him to so accurately determine what she needed. It had been a hard day with this looming secret and no one to talk to without outing herself. Tiffany was a good friend but she would not agree with how Raven chose to make extra money. 

“O-Oh… umm… t-thank you. That’s r-really sweet. S-sorry for assuming the worst. I just figured you…” she stopped herself. “Never mind. I’m fine, or at least I will be. Head hurts less. Few more days, I’ll be healed a-and I’ll figure out the rest. Or just wait for my life to implode,” she grimaced. 

He stared at her. “You’ve been cryin’.” His eyes scanned the waste basket by the desk, which was overflowing with tissues and the ones that littered her soft rose and cream colored comforter. “A lot for just a few hours. You can be honest with me.”

She rubbed her eyes, trying to stop more from falling. “J-Just been a rough year and a half or so, rough life,” she whispered. “I take a step in the right direction and get knocked five back.” She cleared her throat before shaking her head, her body language telling Michael everything he needed to know. All he saw was exhaustion, exhaustion that clung to the bones and never let go, exhaustion so painful it was difficult to even admit it to yourself for fear of giving into it. “But it’ll turn around. So I’m good, I’m good,” she assured him. He could not tell if those words were more for him or herself. 

She stared at him for a few moments, feeling the awkwardness of having a movie star in her small cluttered bedroom. “That it?”

“Um no, actually. I might have a solution to both of our problems… if you’re interested.”

She laughed and shook her head, laying back down on her bed so she could rest her head. He had already seen her in the hospital, she figured he could deal with watching her lay down. 

“Unless you have a job for me, I don’t really know how you can help me.” 

“Well actually… I do. It’s not a traditional job or some shit but it'll be worth it. Be my girlfriend for the next six months.” 

He said the words so casually and easily, Raven would have thought he was asking her to be his dog walker. She immediately sat up, her eyes bugging out of her head. 

“What??”  

He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. “My movie is coming out next month and my directorial debut is next year. The role is already getting buzz for award season. But my team thinks I need to change up my public image ahead of the promo and seem like a more serious person.” She wanted to laugh at his use of air quotes around ‘serious.’ “The photo didn’t really help and if it comes out that you were hired, it just won’t be a good look. So you pretend to be my girl for six months, get me through the premiere, the holidays and award season. Then we can go our separate ways.”  

Raven could only stare at him blankly, shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. She thought this sort of thing only happened in tv shows and in the lines of spicy romance novels. But here, a rich man stood trying to “Pretty Woman” her.

What the fuck is my life right now??

At her continued silence, Michael added, “You wouldn’t need to see me every day or anything and I’d pay you your rate with Helen for every date. My stylist would get all your clothes and outfits for the events so you wouldn’t need to worry about that.” 

Admittedly, as a new girl, her rate was not as high as Tasha’s, she just got lucky taking a date from her. But even still, she knew that she would make a hefty chunk of change by the time the endeavor was over. Though she found the proposition insane, she would have been a fool not to ponder it. He promised a hell of a lot of money for six months of work. One major question trampled over all the other more logical and logistical ones, falling from her lips without a thought. 

“Why me?”

Michael had hoped she would not ask this question. He did not have a good answer. It would’ve been better, likely, to attach himself to an actual celebrity. But Raven was the more authentic choice. However, there was also the underlying reason he even suggested it in the first place and it had nothing to do with logic. 

“My team wants to spin the other night as the media infringed on a private moment between me and my girlfriend. It being you is the most plausible option in case someone got a photo of your face.” 

Raven studied him for a moment. “That's the only reason?” 

“Yea. What else would it be?” He offered, his tone short to avoid any further questioning on the matter. He could tell it did the trick, though it bothered him to see the hurt flash across her face. However, she recovered quickly. 

“Of course,” she muttered. “So what would it entail?” She gestured toward the chair at her desk for him to sit. 

Her room was incredibly neat for someone who spent the last week in bed. More books were neatly stacked in nooks and crannies across the space but her desk was immaculate. His eyes locked in on a poster above the desk, a Toni Morrison quote written across it. 

“If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” - Toni Morrison 

“Damn, how many books you got around here, girl?” 

She laughed, “Far too many to count. I have more… a whole collection back home at my dad’s. These are just the ones from my master’s and since I moved here.” 

“How many books you read in a year?” 

“I average about a book or two a week… some are shorter, some are longer.” 

“How do you find the time for that?” Michael was amazed. He had hobbies but he never had time to actually pursue them. 

“Reading is my job and my hobby,” she shrugged. “But you didn’t come all this way for that. So playing your girlfriend, what would it entail?” While she appreciated his interest in her hobbies and life, she did not want him to be interested in those things. Questions, trying to get to know her, implied something that she knew could not be there or be true. This was work and she did not need to add anymore fuel to the brewing idea that he cared for her beyond their business transactions.

“We just gotta appear like we’re dating. Dates when I'm in town, I go to an event or two a week but you probably ain’t gotta go to all of them. A couple instagram posts and shit like that to sell it.”

That did not sound terrible. She did not know if she wanted or was interested in the public scrutiny but even she could not deny that he was offering her a damn sweet deal. “Sex? Or would you continue to see Tasha?” 

“If you don’t want it to be, it doesn’t have to be. I wouldn’t see Tasha unless I can do it discreetly. But my manager would probably kill me. It would be easier on everyone if it was. Less opportunities for anyone to slip up. We had a good time, right? Besides, I still have a few things I wanted to do to you before our night got cut short.” He winked at her. 

Raven hated how cocky he was. He knew damn well she had the time of her life with him. But she refused to admit that she had been fiending for him like he was a highly-addictive drug since she last saw him. 

“I’d be amenable to that as long as no tables are involved.” 

“What if they’re bolted to the ground?” he teased. Though it ended poorly, he still thought about how that position felt, and could still hear her screams of ecstasy in his ears. They would most certainly be doing it again even if he had to bolt every table in his home to the floor himself. 

Her lips curled into the first genuine smile since he dropped her off three days prior at his joke. 

“I’d be open to that.” 

“So we have a deal?” 

She watched him, he seemed almost nervous. As if he was worried she would reject him, as if any woman with eyes and a brain had ever done that, she thought to herself. And even though every cell in her brain screamed that this was the worst idea possible and would end horribly, she could not find that reason enough to reject his proposal. Instead, she said, “Y-You know this is crazy right? These fake relationships and shit, people see right through them.” 

“Maybe, but it’s worth a try, right?”

“You know I thought this type of shit only happened in books… you’d rather pay me to pretend to love you than actually find a woman who does and build something real with her? I mean don’t you want a serious relationship and love and all that at some point?” 

He shook his head. “No, I don’t.” he answered shortly. “And even if I did, I ain’t got time to find it. Look, we both got immediate problems and this is an immediate solution. Besides a few months with me and you’ll make money… influencer shit, find another rich guy, whatever. But if you aren’t interested, all good. I’ll get outta your hair. I just thought we could help each other?”

Raven studied him for a moment before nodding. The reality was he was right. She had immediate problems that his money could solve. And regardless of what she thought of his choice to go down this path, it was a job and no different than what she did three nights prior. 

“We… have a deal. There are worse jobs, I suppose.” 

*** 

“No! Absolutely not. I’m not moving out of my place.” 

Michael scoffed, confused as to why Raven was insistent on fighting him on this specific point when he thought it was the most generous part of the deal. She had agreed to literally everything else with ease but the apartment was the first time he heard her pushback in the last hour. “You know most women in your position wouldn’t argue with a nigga tryin’ to give them a free spot for six months. Besides, I looked up the crime statistics in that neighborhood -” 

“You know you aren’t really disputing the stalker allegations at all, right?” She did not understand why he would even care where she lived. 

“Just doing my due diligence,” he offered lamely. “And it’s dangerous as fuck. Why you even live there? Someone like you ain’t built for those neighborhoods.” 

She sucked her teeth in annoyance. “It’s a true community, one of the last left in LA I imagine. Far more of a community than what you have with your neighbors in this high rise,” she gestured around him at his condo downtown where they were meeting, “Or in your mansion in the valley. It’s affordable and just because it doesn’t look the best or bad shit happens - which happens everywhere in LA - doesn’t mean it’s a bad neighborhood. I know every family on my block and almost every single one in the neighborhood. And everyone knows me and everyone helps each other out. Besides, it’s close to work.”

He let out a chuckle. “None of Helen’s clients live or would step foot in that neighborhood.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I have a day job… I work at the library a couple streets from my place.”

He raised an eyebrow. He supposed it was not that shocking even the mini library of books she had at her apartment. However, he had not stepped foot in a library since he was a kid. And none of the librarians in Newark looked like her. 

“Maybe I would’ve stayed in school longer if the librarians looked like you.” His voice was playful and teasing. “That can’t pay a lot?” 

“It's a public service so of course not. Hence my very cheap rent and moonlighting job as a prostitute.” She grabbed her glass of water from the coffee table and leaned back into the couch. “But it’s fun. And gives me a lot of time to read and write on my shifts when things are quiet. And I started some fun initiatives and stuff since I started last year. Anyway, the point is, I don’t need a new fancy apartment down here. I like my space. Why do you even care?"  

This part was harder than she thought, ironing out the logistics of their new arrangement. Michael had invited her to his spot downtown, a condo he stayed in when he had late nights in the city. She just figured they would be going with the flow of things. But here they were, debating how many events a week she would need to accompany him to and where she would stay. He kept offering her extravagant things that she quickly turned down. 

“I don't," he answered shortly. Or least, he knew he shouldn't. He tried to cover it up, but even he knew his cover stories were lame. "My manager just thought it would look more legit. But if you don't wanna move, fine. You should stay here a couple nights a week then. There's always cameras around here, they need to see you comin' and goin' like a girlfriend would. This can be where we stay after dates and shit. My team will fill the spare closet with new clothes.” 

“Fine. And new clothes? What’s wrong with my clothes?” 

He sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with your clothes as an everyday thing but you should look like your boyfriend is… well, me. And that means an… elevated take on your current style.” 

She rolled her eyes. “As long as I don’t have to change my whole style, fine. And look, everything you’re offering is nice but feels excessive. All I care about is keeping my life and reputation and stacking enough money to put myself in a better position.  If there’s an event you need me to come to or something you need me to do to sell it, just text me and I’ll do it. You’re paying me to do a job so I don’t really need anything else from you, whether it’s an apartment or a closet full of designer clothes. I’m not trying to milk this arrangement for all it’s worth or steal from you. You’re paying for my time on dates and for sex, that’s all I expect.”

Michael studied her for a moment. He was hoping she would have arrived at this meeting with demands and extravagant desires but she did not seem to care. She was willing to do everything he asked and wanted nothing but the money he promised in return. No extras, no frills, no anything. It was the exact opposite of what he expected from her. And he knew it should’ve made him happy. This would be the most straight-forward business deal he negotiated in years. However, something about it bothered him. He knew it shouldn't. He knew the words about to leave his mouth were dangerous. After all what business partner cared if the other person was short changing themselves when it benefited them? He knew he should not care but here he was… going against all the voices in his head that screamed that at him.

“Are you always this amenable? To everyone?” 

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m just not selfish. You act like it’s a bad thing?” 

“It is if you let people run all over you. Being amenable is why you paid some portion of $10k to bail someone out of jail when it was clear you didn’t have it.”

She cut her eyes, sending him a glare that was so unlike her, it was unnerving. “That is none of your business.” He had never heard such sharpness in her voice, quickly realizing he had struck a chord and not a good one.

“My bad,” he raised his hands in surrender. “I just… it isn’t selfish to demand what you want too, to ensure a situation favors you just as much as the other person. So if down the road, you realize there’s something you want out of this, aside from the money, just name it. Business transactions are not about just getting the bare minimum of what you need… you’re allowed to get the things you just want too.” 

Her heart somehow both inflated and sagged at his words. There he was again, seemingly caring about her beyond the parameters of their relationship. And she could not deny that she liked it, the idea that someone cared about what she wanted, not what she could do for them. But she did not let herself bask in it for too long. Because there was so much Raven wanted in this life, so much she wanted from Michael, but she knew she could not have any of those things and he could not give them to her. 

“Last thing, sex.” 

She stared at him, confused. “I thought we agreed that we were having it?” 

He laughed. “Yea we did. We can keep it to nights when you’re already working so it’s easier. And any other nights, I’ll pay you so don’t worry about that. But if we’re gonna keep doing what we did the other night, I’d like to make sure we have ground rules.” 

“Ground rules?” 

“Like what are your hard limits? Lines I shouldn’t cross?” 

“You spanked me and called me names… hardly need rules for that.” She waved her hand to dismiss him. “We’re good. Just do what you want.” 

Michael merely laughed and stood up. He continued chewing on the toothpick he had between his teeth while he stretched one hand out for her to take. 

“Come with me.”

He led her through the apartment, down the hall to the largest bedroom. She took the quick journey to study the apartment, shocked at how sterile it felt. It could’ve been an AirBnB, furnishings as generic as the ones she could pick up from Target. Though she knew his were far more expensive. She wondered what his other home looked like, this was clearly just a bachelor pad. But she had not spotted a single family photo or anything of note in the entire place. It was beautiful, just… cold. 

Michael turned on the light and led her to the middle of the room. He stood behind her and used his hand to move her kinks to the other side of her neck before resting his hands on her hips. 

“That bed has about six different ways for me to restrain you. The different configurations allow me to put you in any position I want and you can’t move. So much shit I can do with that.. My favorite thing is,” he lowered his voice and leaned in to whisper in her ear, not shocked at how her body stiffened slightly and her breathing skipped. “To tie your arms and legs to the bed and leave you there with a vibrator. See how long it takes you to beg me to cum. Most don’t last long.” 

“Have you ever heard of shibari?” 

She nodded. At his silence, she immediately corrected herself. 

“Y-Yes.” 

“Good girl. Ever tried it?” 

“No but I’d be open to it.” 

“I learned on my first trip to Japan, been studying ever since. Gotten pretty good at it.” A single finger traced intricate patterns across her skin as if he were envisioning exactly where those ropes would go on her skin. He had barely touched her and her panties were already soaked. “This ceiling fixture,” he gestured up to it above their heads. “Is rigged to hold 300 pounds. I can already imagine you suspended from there while I fuck you. You’d like that?” He stepped around to face her, smiling at the way her eyes darkened and her nipples pebbled beneath her thin shirt.  

“I-I think so,” she whispered. His fingers returned to her body, now lazily grazing the bare skin of her thighs, inching the fabric of her skirt higher and higher.

“That bench,” he jerked his head to the side, her eyes falling on a nondescript black cushioned bench at the foot of the bed. It was tall, taller than the average bench, which let her know it was not made for sitting. “Is the perfect height for me to spank you if you disobey me, which judging from the other night, I’m sure will be often. I already know you’d like that though, right?” 

His hand squeezed her ass as he leaned in and sucked on her neck. Her body fell forward and rested against his, giving into the tantalizing pleasure he was providing. She was embarrassed by the breathy moan she let out but could do nothing to stop it.

“I asked you a question,” he reminded her. 

However, Raven felt as if she no longer had a voice let alone coherent thoughts to offer him and answer his questions. She did not understand how he had this effect on her, how she was so willing to surrender to his every whim. But she was, everything he said ignited the most impure and wicked fantasies in her mind. She pictured his words and more so clearly, they might as well have been watching a porno. 

“Y-Yes, I w-would,” she offered through gritted teeth, desperate to hold onto some amount of decency. 

“And that chaise is perfect for any and every position I could ever want you in. And the mirror lets you watch yourself while I fuck you. Oh and I’m gettin’ a swing installed next week. Perfecting timing. And that chest over there,” her eyes went to the last thing of note in the room besides his other standard furniture. “Well, I’m waiting for everything to come in but by Friday, it’ll be filled with brand new floggers, nipple clamps, gags, vibrators, plugs, and a leash since you enjoyed crawling to me so much.” 

If it were possible, her face would have flushed with red at his words. 

“How do you know I enjoyed it?” She tried to sound defiant but she knew it was weak. 

He smirked. “Cause if I told you to drop to your knees and follow me around this apartment for hours, I’d bet my life you’d do it without a second thought.” 

She was thankful he did not phrase it as a question so she was not forced to answer him. The truth was, she would. She would do anything he told her. 

“So, I have a lot more than some colorful names and a spanking in mind if sex is part of this arrangement. This really ain’t the thing you want to be amenable to without thought. Tell me what you want and don’t want. Because when we step in here, I expect you to surrender. And that requires trust that I know your limits and won’t cross them.” 

He took a step back from her, his body reeling from how badly he wanted to fuck her. And how badly she clearly wanted him to. But as badly as he wanted her, he vowed that he would only see their time together as a transaction. They went on a date and had sex, he paid her. And that meant, he could not give into his every sexual whim or thought. Otherwise, he would be fucking her every day and they’d never leave this room. And there was no way he’d survive the six months like that.  

“You also don’t have to tell me today, either. Just think about it.”

She nodded, she really did not want to think about it. Not because he was wrong but because she did not want to think or admit all the things she desperately wanted him to do to her. 

Her phone buzzing pulled her out of the trance he had her in. Thank God, she thought to herself as she read the alarm on her phone. “Oh shoot, I better head home. I… host a book club on Wednesday evenings at the library.” 

“I’ll walk you out.” 

Raven was thankful to escape his bedroom, it was a danger zone for her and her thoughts. 

“So um… you have my number w-when you’re ready for a date. J-just give me advanced notice, if you can? You know if I need to adjust my work hours or something.” 

“How about Saturday evening? My team released the statement this morning and it's getting good play apparently so it’ll be good for us to post a picture or be seen out and about this weekend. We can start small with dinner, ease you into the spotlight.” 

“Sounds good. Just text me what I need to wear.”

“Don’t worry about that. They’ll pull an outfit and send it over to you.” 

“You sure? You really don’t have to,” she started to say before he cut her off. 

“It’s easier cause they’ll coordinate the look and make sure it looks good for photos. Don’t worry about it.” 

She made her way to the private elevator and hit the lobby button. 

Michael reached in and hit the P button. “Elevator will take you straight to the car, driver will meet you in the garage.”  

“Have him meet me out front. You said there’s always a paparazzi or two lurking around. Maybe they’ll catch me leaving?”

He raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You sure this is your first fake relationship? Already acting like a pro.” 

She laughed and shook her head. “No, I just want to make sure you get all the bang for your buck. I like to excel at every job I have… would hate for you to leave me a bad review with the fake girlfriend's business bureau.”

“Don’t see that happenin’ at all.”  

She thought the smolder was merely something actors did in movies. But here he was, smoldering and it made her want to rip her clothes off in the middle of his elevator and demand he fuck her. But she couldn’t. Self control. This was a transaction and she could not give into her desires outside the realm of payment. That would be dangerous. 

She cleared her throat, forcing her feet to take a step back into the elevator. “Ok, see you Saturday,” she offered awkwardly. 

However, before the doors fully closed, she stopped them. 

“Tying up is fine, just want a nonverbal cue if you’re gonna gag me and I can’t speak. I like pain but my pain tolerance isn’t that high so there’s a limit on what I can take. So if you’re like a sadist or something, we can go ahead and dead this. Oh and no bodily fluids aside from the ones that are naturally involved in sex, don’t make me explain what I mean… the stories I’ve heard,” she shuddered, causing Michael to laugh. “No hitting except spanking, of course. Choking is fine. And no threesomes or other people. Oh and I’m fine with no condoms, if we’re exclusive and you get tested for STIs and bring the results with you on Saturday. I will get one too. Oh and make sure the collar is padded or lined with something for my neck,” she clarified. “That’s all I can think of. I am willing to try anything else once and I’ll use the safe word if I don’t like it. How do those rules sound to you?” 

“That’s it?” Her list was perfect, aligned to his own personal limits fairly well. He would’ve expected more for someone so green. 

Raven seemed to pick up on his shock causing her to laugh. “I know the vibe I give off,” she admitted. “And I am all those things… innocent and straight laced. But you aren’t the only one with fantasies. You told me to get what I needed and I wanted. … I need the money and I want an escape from my reality, total surrender and escape with someone I trust to explore those fantasies with. And right now, that’s you.” 

He did a small double take at her words. “You trust me already? You don’t even know me.” 

She shrugged, for some reason, she felt as if that was not true. On some level, she did know him. Or at least, a piece of him. And that felt like enough… at least for now. 

 “I think I know enough. See you Saturday,” she smiled with a small wave, the elevator doors finally closing to take her to the lobby. 

Michael stood there in his living room, slightly dumbfounded. 

“This girl…” he whispered. He was already cursing himself for this ill conceived plan. He knew, at that very moment, he did not have the willpower to keep his feelings at bay for six months. The only question now was, how long would he last?    

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83

***

A/N: So we are in the thick of ittttttt. The babes are pining and entering in a fake relationship…. what could go wrong LOL the smut returns next chapter, promise! And we get their first real date.

Drop a comment and let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged! Thanks for reading!

[lucabyte]

ppl saying they look to my comics for inspiration and pointers on how to format things is WILDDDD to me (and delightful don't get me wrong!! i am overjoyed) because like. none of you are privvy to the absolute WAHHH I DONT WANNNAAA bitchfits i was *CONSISTANTLY* throwing every time i forced myself to make a comic before i got into isat. like no joke. i considered comics such a fucking difficult medium they always drained my drawing energy so hard because they always felt like they took sooo long and had so many moving parts and were so much harder than storyboards (WHICH I ALREADY STRUGGLED WITH) because you had to account for panel shape and speech bubbles and-- like you get it. but genuinely for real. the sheer amount that i complained whenever i clawed my way through drawing a comic (which thus! was not very fucking much!!) compounded by the fact that i *genuinely have trouble reading comics*. as in, i really struggle to parse the flow of contiguous movement or action between panels (possibly connected to the fact ive got mad aphantasia?) of even really well done best-of-the-best professional comics...

... BUT. basically. what im trying to get at is. if you wanna learn to draw comics, evidently you super can?! I genuinely *didnt* draw comics before drawing isat fanart! I have no idea what it was about ISAT fanart that made it finally click for me? (I think it was... not having to think about colour? Removing a step from the process really helped. Plus, it being fanwork meant I could just start en-medias-res and not have to think about setup... Trying to cram too much explanation and setup into my oc stuff was always a big hurdle too...)

I find them fast to do now! and damn if i dont value speed in art (<- impatient little fucker). its still going slowly on my oc comics.. mostly due to the colour again, i think. but it's not extremely, ecruciatingly difficult anymore. is what im saying. and im genuinely baffled by it every time i put pen to page. its fucked up. did you guys know that practice makes things easier? . fucking perverted if you ask me.

As for looking at other people's things for inspiration. if you want to know where I was looking when I was piecing together the first couple fancomics I did for ISAT i want to specifically point at . well besides everything rebecca sugar has ever done (for hands and facial expressions *especially*), the main person i really dug into the work of was Leo Fox (Website link). I feel like i wanna point people to the source of a lot of the inspiration for my more off-kilter panel choices so you all can get the full experience rather than through my regurgitated mimesis. I'm now at the point where i can wing panel layout so i wasn't in there for longgg but. everyone go add it to your knowledge banks as for SUBJECT MATTER aka why i am i so deranged. those are squarely the 2019 postcanon homestuck golden era bleeding through my CLENCHED BITTEN DOWN JAW. A BULL TERRIER ON YOUR BRACHIAL ARTERY. namely that @/floralmarsupial and @/tomatograter's works (no i am not tagging them . im shy) are things i go back to frequently and floralmarsupials pure black/white inktober comics were *especially* an inspiration. if you've been following me a few months you may remember me reblogging a bunch of their stuff from 2019~2021 for seemingly no reason. this was why. The narratively divorced reality of jade strider & Liminal Space are big in my mind here. I balk to call myself anywhere near as good as these but these are what i'm aiming for, tonally and quality-ways with it. also detective pony but ive mentioned that already and thats farrrr too inside baseball for this post.

BUT YEAH TL;DR: I DIDNT DRAW LIKE ANY COMICS UNTIL UHHHH LIKE, WHAT, LIKE 8 MONTHS AGO? JESUS. ANYWAY. THIS MEANS YOU 🫵🫵🫵 CAN DO IT TOO. BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. DATTEBAYO!!!!

[sehtoast]

Tender Threads CH2 ( Homelander x OC )

chapter two: signed and sealed

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: benjamin knows full well he's out there, watching and waiting, even doing a little breaking and entering. homelander is simply biding his time until he gets his way.

Benjamin’s personal life had always been a simple one.  With little to no time to truly be, there wasn’t much drama to get mixed up in– well, there used to be.  Back when he tried to have the best of both worlds, there was… a lot.  Failed relationships, friends walking out on him, family shunning him for his absences, unreliability, and perceived short temper that was truly just pure exhaustion.  It was one hell of a cocktail, but sometimes the loneliness was worse.  It was hard to see the few people who still talked to him, and harder still to make time to call his folks, but somehow those relationships survived.

Worse yet was his track record with jobs.  Delivery boy was optimal given his particular skill set, but showing up on time with every little disturbance was beyond difficult.  Table waiting jobs were even worse, and he’d lost a fair few.  These days he supplements income with side photography while primarily working an IT job at a small tech firm that he probably wouldn’t have gotten without a friend putting in a good word.

Moving to New York with his best friend from college was a decision he wouldn’t undo, but it wasn’t without its strife.  If not for his friend, good ol’ Jason Ortega, Ben would’ve fallen through the cracks so many times. Eventually they split from their cozy roommate situation after Jase got a girlfriend, but there were no hard feelings.  In fact, he was the only person in the world who knew about Ben’s little secret.

The two worlds of Benjamin's life were starting to collide bit by bit.

“You met Homelander!" 

“Shh! Not so loud!”  Ben stresses, eyes wide.  They’re on their first coinciding lunch break in a while, and they'd decided to pop a few blocks down to a sub shop for their first hangout in damn near three weeks.  “Yeah, just–”

“And you worked with him, right?” Jason asks, leaning forward eagerly, food all but totally forgotten.  “That’s what all the articles are saying.”

“No, I–” Benjamin releases a heavy sigh.  He knows about those.  It’d been two weeks since Homelander propositioned him, and… well. 

It had been an interesting two weeks.

“It wasn’t like that.”  Ben says, mind wandering back…

Bodega Burglary Botched!  Spidey and Homelander Team Up, had been Vought News Network’s big headline of the day the morning after the confrontation in the alley.  Ben pretty much choked on his bowl of Maeve-O’s when the segment ran on his TV.  

“Boy, I’ll tell ya,” Homelander said, smiling perfectly for the camera.  “That Spider-Man is exactly what we need in The Seven.  After last night, I really do see why people say he looks out for the little guy.”

Ben must have looked quite the sight standing there in his boxers, spoon dangling from his mouth. Did he have bedhead or was his hair just showing how absolutely fucking insane he felt in the moment? 

“I can’t think of anyone better to fill Translucent’s shoes.  So, Spidey, if you’re seeing this: you’ve got my vote buddy!”

“You mother fucker…” Ben murmured.  This was a power play unlike anything he could’ve imagined.  This wasn’t just for PR– though it definitely was.  This was a way to turn the public onto the idea.  To make sure the wall crawler would be reminded of the offer everywhere he went.  

Which is precisely what happened.  And now it was happening in his personal life, which was even worse.  Not that Jase knew the fine details of what had happened, but…

“Man, Vought’s been hounding me for a while now.”  He explains.  “And now they sent the big dog.” 

Ben takes a moment, voice hushed, to tell Jason about all that had happened.  About how intimidating the whole thing was, how Homelander practically looked right through him, how he fucking name-dropped him despite every length the bug has gone to keep his identity a secret.

“You wanna know what else?”  Ben asks, glancing from side to side.  “I think he’s fucking stalking me.”

“Dude…” 

“Yeah, so get this…”

He spares no details.

It started off small.  Simple fly-by’s, flickers of red, white, and blue in the sky zipping by at the most random of times.  At first, it seemed like something weird in his peripherals, but then Benjamin learned to look up.  He made eye contact three days after first noticing his stalker while walking into work, and he’s not sure if that made Homelander more bold but he definitely did get worse.

Benjamin could’ve coped with the stalking. In fact, he was almost getting used to it, but then he went for the newly bought jug of milk in the fridge and found the seal cracked and roughly a quarter of the contents missing.

The lack of cup in the sink had him pouring the contents down the drain because that bastard clearly drank from the jug.  After that, subtlety went clear out the fucking door.

Ben’s apartment isn’t the neatest thing on planet Earth, but he prides himself on keeping up with his laundry.  His closet was organized, shoes kicked into a slobbishly-neat pile in said closet, and his underwear drawer was folded to perfection.

So why in the world were his boxer briefs unrolled from their tight, military-esque fold?  Why is his acoustic guitar on the stand where the electric normally sits?  

And why the fuck is the bed he made that morning now unmade and very obviously laid in?

Homelander had crossed a line.  This wasn't just some light stalking and intimidation, this was a Goldy Locks level violation of his privacy and space, and Ben didn’t know if it was going to end up so bad someday that he'd wake up to the fucker standing in the corner like some patriotic version of the hat man.

“And it’s still happening,” he tells Jason.  His best friend stares at him wide eyed with his mouth parted in disbelief. 

“Man, I hope you changed your toothbrush…”  He says.

“Fuck… No, but I will later, I–”  

A ringing from Jason’s phone breaks their banter and signals the end of their break.  Ben takes the opportunity to grab his own phone and type a message to him.  Eyes up when we leave.  Don’t react to this.

They pay and leave.  Sure as the sun rises in the morning, on the edge of the roof across the street stands Homelander, who smirks down at them, clearly having used that super hearing of his to listen in.

“Woah…” Jase utters.

Ben simply keeps his eyes up, watching closely as the star spangled supe gives an informal salute and takes off.

“Dude…” Jason says.  “That’s fucked.”

Yeah, Ben thinks to himself. I’m fucked.

By the end of the third week, Ben’s absolutely had it.  He can feel Homelander’s eyes piercing through the walls of his apartment building.  In fact, Benjamin knows right where he’s sitting.  He’d been laying in bed relaxing before his usual run through the city.

He hates to admit it, but… he’s given some thought to the offer.  Moral objections aside, he could make a real difference at Vought.  Plus, there’s the opportunity to try to change it from the inside out.  Maybe leak some information here or there…

Nothing he’s vocalized, of course.  He’d never risk Homelander hearing something and come barreling through the wall to laser him in two for even considering it.

But enough was enough.  These little interferences in his life weren’t going to stop, it seemed, unless he did something about it.  Ben swings his legs off the side of the bed and stares down at where his suit lays in a pile on the floor.  There was no sense in even putting the fucking mask on.  Homelander can see through it anyway.  He knows who he is, where he lives…  The jig is up as far as secrecy with Homelander goes, if there was even any to begin with.

Ben walks to the window and peers out.  Just as he predicted, Homelander is stood on the building across the street, looking almost amused at the bug’s knowledge of his location.

“Get over here,” Ben says.  He knows Homelander can hear it.  “For once, you’re being invited inside.”  With that, he opens the window.

What the fuck am I doing, Ben thinks to himself.  Fuck, I should’ve gone out, not let him in.  Fuck, fuck fuck…

It’s a curious thing to watch Homelander float through the window perfectly horizontal.  It never occurred to Ben that flying supes could do that so easily…

“Benjamin,” Homelander greets.  “Nice of you to finally extend the offer.”

The bug plops down on the edge of his bed, gesturing to his desk chair for Homelander to sit.  It’s almost comedic to watch him swish his cape out of the way to do so.

“Y’know, I can cope with you stalking me,” Ben says, getting right to the point.  “But rifling through my drawers is overdoing it.”

Homelander smiles, and it’s almost scary to see him so close in such an intimate environment.  Outside, he’s practically god.  In here he’s… scary in a different way.  Especially when Ben notices just how sharp his canines are.

“Couldn’t help it, Benny.  Besides, you’ve got some interesting things.”  Homelander turns in the chair just slightly to rap his gloved knuckles against the top drawer of Ben’s nightstand.  “Especially in here, you dirty boy.”

Ben’s cheeks flare red immediately.  Fuck, he hadn’t even considered–

“You are interesting, I’ll tell ya.” Homelander continues.  “You’re so fucking ordinary, and yet you’re about to be in The Seven.  Nothin’ to you besides that do-good moral compass of yours and some spandex.”

“What do you mean, ‘about to,’” Ben asks incredulously.  “I haven’t agreed to anything.”

Homelander gives him a smile so sinister that it practically takes a bite out of his resolve.  “Oh, I know.  But you’re going to once we’re done here, trust me.”

Ben cocks a brow.  “... explain.”

“Not yet.” 

Homelander leans to the side and snags one of those guitars he was clearly very familiar with.  “You’re a peculiar little thing, you know that?”  He says, finger plucking awkwardly at a nylon string that damn near snaps under his strength.  It makes Ben cringe a little.  “You’re so full of anxiety I can practically smell it on you, but you still have the balls to tell me no.  You’re pretty much a shut in as...” Homelander gestures vaguely to Ben to describe his secret identity.  “But then you’re such a social butterfly.  Thought you might’ve just had a thing for being stared at in spandex, but you’re quite the little ray of sunshine in the leotard.”

“I–”

Homelander holds up a finger.

“And you’re so fucking sad, little Benjamin.”  

What..? 

“You’re lonely.  Just that one buddy of yours and that strained relationship with good ol’ mom and dad… plus that cousin or whatever the boy is.”  Homelander plucks the lowest string, a deep open note reverberating through the body of the instrument.  “But you’re so sad, crying at night like you do.”

But I haven’t– 

“I can tell what you’re thinking… You haven’t had a bad night in a few weeks.”  Homelander says nonchalantly.  “What, you think I wasn’t scoping you out before that night in the alley?  Please.  I know you down to the fucking lube you use at this rate.”

“What the f–”

“Astroglide, by the way.”  He says, wiggling his brows.  “You want that spider-high you get when you’re swinging around to be permanent?  Quit your little desk job, stop being a pussy, and join my team.  Go have time to live your personal life– I don’t fucking care– just do the right thing.”

Ben’s gaze falls and he picks at his fingers.  Fucker found the sore spot and was using it to his full advantage.

“Don’t look so sad, Benny boy.  I’m offering you the relief you’ve been looking for, aren’t I?”  Homelander smiles almost genuinely.  “So exhausted all the time, too.  When was the last time you got eight hours, huh?  I’ve seen the way that little tingle in your head wakes you up all the time.  Plus all those late nights… you must be so burnt out.”

“Shut up…” Ben tries, but it comes out more sad than he means for it to.  He hates how fucking right Homelander is.

“Friends, family, rest… No more rent struggles…” Homelander sets the instrument down and turns toward Ben.  “You know what else?”  He asks, voice almost sweet.  When Ben looks at him, he grins.  “Ma and Pa will thank you when I don’t drop an oil tanker on them from orbit.”

Ben’s blood runs cold.

“Yeah, I flew by a day ago.  Nice little suburban house in Annville, right?  Pops has a nice red truck.”

No, no, no– fuck– 

“Be a shame if they had to suffer because of you, wouldn’t it?”

Benjamin sits stock still, his only movements being shakes of fear and anger.  How fucking dare he?  How dare he hold something so–

“Like I said, you will be joining The Seven.  And, if you do, no harm will come to mom and pop– I promise.” 

He knows he has no choice now.

“So, little Benjamin,” Homelander says, rising from the chair.  “What’ll it be?”

As if he has any choice.

“Fine…”

“Oh,” Homelander cocks a brow.  “What was that?  I think I need you to be a little louder.”

“Fine,” Ben says, more conviction in his voice this time.  

“Say it.  The whole thing.” Homelander demands, smile growing even wider.  “You’re gonna join The Seven.”

“I’m…” Ben sighs.  “I’m going to join The Seven.”

“Attaboy!” Homelander chirps, clapping his gloved hands together.  “Alright, buddy, get some shoes on and let's get you to the tower for your big signing day!  Did I mention you get a sign-on bonus?  Pretty killer, right?”

Dejectedly, Ben stands from the bed and slips his shoes on.

He supposes he’ll be signing his contract in his pajamas.