#why is there one thousand ways to write their names damn

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｓｗｅｅｔ ｎｏｔｈｉｎｇ ♡

♡ Pairing: tattoo artist!ex boyfriend!chan x chubby!fem!tattoo artist!reader, best friend!stray kids

♡ Genre: angst/smut/fluff

♡ Summary: After a year abroad spent perfecting your craft, you decide to return to the shop that you started at to reconnect with the people you love but how will your friends react to your sudden return? And how will your ex feel when he finds out your back in town attempting to reclaim your place in his shop and maybe even his heart?

♡ Word Count: 5.8k-ish

♡ Warnings: chan's really down bad for you and the littlest bit posessive, strong language, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, male masturbation, creampie, oral sex (m&f receiving), overstimulation, a lil nipple play, orgasm control if you squint, pet names (beautiful, pretty, baby), a lil hair pulling, and that's about it.

♡ A/N: So somehow I've written myself into a series of sorts all taking place in one tattoo shop. Seungmin's here if you'd like to read it. I'll for sure be doing one for all of the boys because why not? This one's a lot more angsty than the other one but I had a nice time writing something different so, as always, I hope you enjoy it, babes.

You stand with your back to the night, casting your starry eyed gaze upon the soft white glow of the neon sign that hangs overhead. It reads Social Path Tattoos & Piercings. This place isn’t new to you, even if the nerves rattling through your system might imply otherwise.

You’re more than familiar with it. You used to spend every waking moment in this place. Even slept here a couple times when you were a bit too tipsy to drive. And coming back to it after a year overseas is surreal. You dreamed of this a thousand times before finally biting the bullet and hopping on the next plane back here. Back home. 

You made it. Through the chaos of the airport, racing through crowds to make it to the Uber you may have called a little too soon. Through an hour of bumper to bumper traffic, listening to your driver give you dating advice you definitely didn’t ask for. Through a hell of a check in process at the hotel and lugging half your life up to the 8th floor of the lavish building.

You survived all of that to make it to this moment and you can’t even bring yourself to step inside. What if you aren’t welcome? What if the men you once called “family” consider you nothing more than a stranger now? It’s only been a year but so much has happened. There were so many tears the day you left, so much sadness—so much anger. Maybe you should’ve stayed away.

“Next time you have to get one. I’m telling you, it didn’t hurt at all” a tall girl with a septum piercing tells her friend as they exit the shop. 

The shorter girl by her side stares at the fresh tattoo on her friend’s arm with equal amounts admiration and fear. “Liar. It’s needles stabbing through your skin. There’s no way that doesn’t hurt.”

Noticing the tattoos peeking out of your strappy crop top, the taller girl turns to you for some back up. “Tell her it doesn’t hurt,” she pouts. 

In all your years as a tattoo artist you’ve never once lied to a client but you aren’t on the clock right now and can’t bring yourself to kill whatever glimmer of hope this girl might have of winning her friend over. 

“It doesn’t hurt” you lie to her friend, knowing damn well that, while it isn’t torture, it’s far from painless. “It might sting a little but you’re tough. I can tell. You’ve got it.”

“Thank you” the tall girl smiles, holding the door open for you. “Headed in?” 

“Uh…” you hesitate, chewing at your inner lip. There’s so much weight to that question. A weight she can’t possibly fathom. Swallowing your pride, you give her a smile and a nod, slipping into the shop. 

“Have a good night!” the girls say kindly, going about their night and abandoning you in the doorway. 

Breathing in deep, you take a few more steps before stopping to take in the scene around you. The shop is as alive as it's ever been, the lobby buzzing with customers busy picking out jewelry or waiting their turn to be seen.

The front desk is still straight ahead, marked by a small statue of an orange cat named Cheese. It’d been Minho’s idea to get it when you all went on a drunken flea market adventure and none of you were sober enough to shoot him down. The walls are still adorned with elegant, hand painted art courtesy of Hyunjin, the best photo realistic artist in the shop. The city even. 

The checkered floors are the same, an expertly polished black and white patchwork to match the charcoal color of the walls. Even the couch you bought in from your apartment is still positioned in the corner where a bunch of college kids are currently lounging. A lot has happened on that couch. A lot more than they know. God you hope the boys have cleaned it.

Everything is just as you remember it but the energy’s something new entirely. It’s the contradiction of finding familiarity on an alien planet. 

“You need something, babe?” the bubbly girl at the counter asks, waving you over. This is new. They used to force you to work the front desk on weekends, the guys alternating weekdays based on whoever lost at rock, paper, scissors. But now there’s a new face. She seems sweet though so you make your way over to her. At least one person’s happy to see you. 

“Yes but no but yes? I guess” you ramble, indecision painted all over your face. Observing your appearance she doesn’t take you as the kind of girl to be hesitant about what she came to a place like this for but she comforts you nonetheless. 

“It’s okay” she says, reaching out a sympathetic hand to touch yours, “Everyone gets nervous sometimes. I mean, I work here and even I almost freaked when I got my bellybutton pierced but it’s okay. You know what you wanna get done?”

“Actually, I’m not here to get anything done. I used to work here a long time ago and I just thought I’d drop by and see…”

“You’re fucking joking” a voice from your past interrupts. Before you even turn to look, you know exactly who that voice belongs to. Seungmin. 

“It can’t be. I’m hallucinating” he gasps, clutching his chest. “A ghost? In our shop?”

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. You’ve missed them. “A ghost? Am I dead now? Is that what you consider me?” you sniffle, pretending to cry. 

“Oh, my god. Stop it. Come here” he says, smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen. He throws his arms around you, squeezing you into the tightest hug. In an instant it melts away your worries of not being welcome here. This is the warmest you’ve ever seen Seungmin greet someone and you feel special for being the recipient. 

“Squeeze me any tighter and I will be a ghost” you tease, pulling back the slightest bit to get some air. As you do you notice something new on his face. “When did this happen?” You marvel at the shiny silver jewelry decorating his eyebrow. 

“You hate it don’t you?”

“Ssh, I don’t hate it. I like it. It’s cute.”

Seungmin blushes, rubbing his cheeks in a failed attempt to hide it. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the girl at the counter staring daggers through Seungmin’s soul. It’s easy to see that there’s something going on here and she doesn’t like him blushing over other girls. 

“Ooh, someone’s got a girlfriend” you sing and the counter girl giggles. You can’t help but adore how sweet it is when Seungmin lights up at the sound of her laughter. But you can’t deny that it drags up bittersweet memories of when that was you and...

“Follow me. Everyone’s here tonight. I know they’ll be happy to see you” Seungmin says, ready to escape the lobby before his cheeks overheat from all the blushing. It’ll kill his reputation if the guys find out. He leads the way to the back, as if you need the guidance. You remember exactly where you’re going.

“So…” he sighs, feeling the weight of your return for the first time, “How was Japan?”

“Oh, it was wonderful. It’s beautiful over there and I learned so much from my apprenticeship. I was super nervous at first, you know? But everyone at the shop was…” You stop yourself short, fearful that your fond memories of your time there might come off as bragging. You may have had fun in Osaka but it still paled in comparison to the place you come from. 

Seungmin picks up on it, glancing back at you to give you a comforting smile, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m happy…we’re happy that you did what you needed to do. It’s nice to have you back though. You are back, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. That depends on what he says. You know how he was when I left.”

Seungmin says nothing, only nods. He knows oh too well how his best friend was when you left. And those months after spent stewing in a bitterness that only thinly masked the pain of losing you. He watched it play out until the sting had faded but only enough to pretend that things were okay when they weren’t. 

“Yongbok, what’d you do with my kit?” Changbin shouts across the room, tearing his station apart in search of his prized possession. 

A few stations away a busy Felix rises from his chair, directing his client towards one of the full body mirrors in the corner. “Why are you yelling at me? I don’t have your kit!”

“I’m not talking to you! I’m talking to him!” Changbin points a finger at a shocked I.N who’s been innocently prepping for the next person in line.

“You called my name!” Felix snaps and it dawns on Changbin that he’s been calling the wrong person. 

Changbin fights himself not to laugh at his own mistake. He puts his head down, discovering his kit tucked away under his table. “Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

I.N querks an eyebrow at him, arms folded across his chest, “Why do you always do that? You can never call me the right name.”

“Because he’s old” Hyunjin mumbles under his breath, still loud enough for the others to hear. Changbin picks up a towel to throw at him but hesitates when he notices Hyunjin’s in the middle of a tattoo. 

“It’s okay, old man,” Han teases, patting his friend on the back. Hyunjin might be busy but Han on the other hand is free enough to invade his personal space so it’s a slap on the back of the head for him. 

“Can you guys be adults for a second? We have a guest” Seungmin announces but you hardly mind. This was what you missed while you were gone. No matter how kind the artists at the other shop were to you, they could never replace your boys. Even in their most chaotic moments there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

Seungmin’s voice draws all of the attention in the room to you and everyone falls silent. If there’s anything else they needed to say the thoughts have evaporated in your presence. It’s quiet for long enough that you begin to worry. Thoughts creep back in that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Seungmin may have been happy to see you but the others?

Just as you begin to doubt yourself, the room erupts in cheers and you find yourself at the center of the world’s biggest group hug. Their joy overflows as arms wrap around you, one set swapping out for another and then another swiftly enough to leave you dizzy. 

“You’re back! Why didn’t you tell us? Ugh, I missed you” Han says, pinching your cheek in an act of cute aggression he simply cannot control. 

Felix hugs you so that his cheek is flush against yours, “You’re staying, right? You have to stay.” 

This is nothing that you expected it to be. You’re flooded with enough joy to make a girl cry and you can already feel the tears welling up, you’re right on the verge of it. A year of wondering if you’d made a mistake. A year of worrying that the people you loved hated you for your decision. All of those doubts are shedded in the arms of these seven men. 

“What’s all this noise?” Chan groans, his eyes barely open as he steps out of his office, “I was trying to sleep for once.”

“Sleep? Shouldn’t you be working?” I.N says, never one to miss an opportunity to be a smartass. 

Chan lets out a yawn, stretching those muscular arms you very vividly recall drooling over and on. “You’ll pay for that, kid. But seriously, what are you guys doing out here?” 

The guys step away, gesturing towards you and his arms drop to his sides. Suddenly he’s reminiscent of a balloon at the end of a party, melancholy and deflated. You watch the light in his eyes die in real time and it makes you sick to your stomach to be looked at this way. It wasn’t always like this. In the old days he’d have you in his arms right now, showering you in kisses. But these aren’t the old days, no matter how badly you wish it were. 

He starts in your direction, one slow, agonizing step of his black boots after another. He stops a few feet away from you as if some invisible barrier is keeping him at bay. His expression is hard as stone as he studies you like you’re a creature he’s never seen before. 

“Hi” you manage in spite of the sudden lack of moisture in your mouth. You get the sense that you’re on trial for some horrible crime and Chan, the judge that he is, has no intention of offering you leniency. 

“It’s really nice to see you. You look…good.” There’s such a softness in the way that you are with him. The wisp of a smile on your lips, the gentleness in your posture. You’re soft as a marshmallow for this man and the fire of his anger’s enough to burn you to a crisp. 

“Chan, don’t be…” Changbin tries to reach his best friend but Chan snatches away, sparing you one last glance before disappearing into his office.

The door slams hard enough that the hinges creak and the wood seems to splinter. The others? They don’t hate you. In fact, they adore you with all of their hearts. But him? You’re positive he does and now you want to cry again but for a different reason altogether.

Han pats you on the back, bringing you close to him, “I’m about to work on my sketch for my next client. Will you help me?”

“I don’t know, Jisung. It might be better if I go.”

“What? No! You just got here!” Hyunjin pouts, his bottom lip quivering. “You’re really gonna walk out and leave some poor soul at the hands of his drawing skills?”

Hyunjin’s attempt at making you laugh works like a charm and a giggle escapes you. 

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” he asks, poking his lip out even more. 

“Yes, that means I’ll stay.”

“Yay!” Han cheers, grabbing onto your hand and dragging you over to his station.

He hops right into it, spilling all of the details about the tattoo and asking your opinion on it. At first you struggle to focus on helping him. As much as you want to, you can’t shake the mental picture of how Chan looked at you. He didn’t say a word but he didn’t need to. He said everything he felt without so much as parting his lips. 

Periodically you find your gaze drifting over to his office door, the pit of your stomach twisted with the anxiety over his next appearance. But the door never opens, not even a crack, and before you know it you’re fully engrossed in helping Han work on his sketch. Your styles are different but he admires you as an artist and soaks in every drop of your input like a sponge. 

As the night rolls on you find yourself at one station after another, helping the guys with what you can. You slip right back into their group dynamic with ease. It’s as if your spot was always here waiting for you to hop right back in. It’s like you never left. The minutes melt into hours and you find yourself lingering behind with them far beyond closing time. 

“We’re all going out for drinks. You’re coming right?” Felix asks as you group filters out of the shop, filling up the space on the sidewalk. 

“Yes, she’s coming. She doesn’t have a choice!” I.N answers before you have a chance to. The boys have already begun moving towards their destination and he drapes an arm around your shoulder to make sure you keep up. 

“I’m coming” you laugh, tapping him on the back of the hand, “I do need to run back to my hotel and change first though.”

Changbin looks you up and down, finding not a single thing wrong with your current fit. “Why? You look beautiful.”

As flattered as you are, there’s no way you’re going out on the town in a crop top and a pair of sweatpants. You might not be planning on switching into a ballgown but a change of wardrobe is definitely in order. 

You bat your eyelashes, grateful for the compliment, “Sweet but no. I still need to change. Just text me where you’re going.” Reaching into your pocket for your phone, you realize you must’ve left it behind. “Shit, I left my phone.”

They all pause, prepared to turn back and help you find it. “We’ll just go back and grab it” Han insists but you shut him down, not wanting to delay their plans. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ll just grab my phone and I’ll meet you there in a few.”

I.N opens his mouth to protest but you throw a hand over it before he can speak. “I’m not a baby, you guys. I got it. I’ll be quick, I swear.”

Shared glances between the seven of them play out a silent conversation that you aren’t in on. They want to look after you, especially after you being so far away for so long, but you’re stubborn and they know you won’t give in no matter what they say.

“Fine” Seungmin relents, “If you aren’t there in an hour we’re coming to get you!”

“Yeah and we’ll raid your hotel room, eat up all your snacks…” Han throws in for extra impact. 

“I’ll be there. I swear! One hour!” you promise, skipping back towards the shop. 

“An hour!” Hyunjin shouts after you, waiting until you’re safely back inside to continue on.

Inside the shop the lights are turned down, not completely off but dimly lit enough that you almost trip on your way to the back. You frantically search every station—in things, under them—but your phone’s nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck, where is it?” you shout in frustration.

Standing in the middle of the floor, you take a deep breath and contemplate where it could be. You were at Han’s station first and then you went to sit with Felix for a bit but Changbin called you to the front for something. That’s it. Maybe it’s there.

You turn to jog back up front when a sound from behind you stops you in your tracks. It’s the sound you’ve been dreading all night. The slow creaking of the door to Chan’s office. Your heart almost stops dead in your chest. You’re frozen, stuck right where you are. You can’t even bring yourself to turn around when you feel the weight of something on your shoulder.

“Looking for this?” he asks, tapping you on the shoulder with your phone. 

Hesitantly, you take it, turning to find yourself face to face with the man you used to call yours. Chan seems less angry now but his nose is red and his eyes are puffy. You can tell from the gloss dancing on the surface of them that he’s been crying. 

“Thanks. Sorry for leaving it behind, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you here?” He asks the question so bluntly that you’re stunned, unsure how to respond. 

“I don’t understand—”

“Why’d you come back? I thought you were confident in your decision. I thought that was what you needed. But now you’re standing in front of me so why?”

“Well, I…” you sigh, giving yourself a moment to process your own feelings, “I missed it. The shop and the guys and you.”

Chan’s jaw tightens, your profession placing him right back on edge. “You miss me?” he scoffs, “That’s not the truth. Try again.”

“But it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t!” he finally snaps, raising his voice at you in a way he never has before. “If you missed me then you would’ve called. You would’ve texted me. Do you know what that felt like for me? I haven’t heard your voice in a year.”

“Because you told me you didn’t wanna hear it!” you shout back, the tears you’ve been suppressing all night pouring from your eyes. It hurts to cry this hard. The tightness in your chest is unbearable. You’ve never cried this hard in front of someone before, not even him, but there’s no holding it back. “I blew up your phone all day every day for weeks begging you to talk to me. I might’ve left here but I didn’t leave you. You left me. You broke my heart and I’ve cried for you every night since. So hate me all you want but I won’t torture myself for you anymore.”

Four hours. That’s how long he spent pacing in that office spiraling down an emotional hole. He thought he knew what he’d say to you if he had the chance. All of those words left unsaid would come tumbling out. Those feelings of abandonment. That pain. He’d have the words to put to them that’d make you understand what you did to him.

Watching the tears stream down your face, none of those words matter now. He’d worked you up in his mind to be a villain, totally opposite to the girl he fell in love with. Blinded by his own bitterness he couldn’t see that you were still her. You are still her. And now he can’t ignore it. 

Tucking an arm around your waist he pulls you in, your face pressed into his chest. His fingers find your hair, stroking the soft strands. It feels like it’s been an eternity since he’s touched you. His body’s flush with the sort of warmth flowers must feel on a sunny day.

Chan leans in, his plush lips skimming your ear, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just had so much anger when you left and I didn’t know how to deal with it but I don’t hate you. I’m so sorry.”

The tremors of his voice give you goosebumps. He sounds as broken as you do and just as lost. You shake your head, pulling back from him. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come” you say, wiping the tears away. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll stay away this time. I promise.”

You walk off, your arms wet with tears that won’t stop falling. Your chest’s thumping and the shop seems darker than it was when you came in. Footsteps follow behind you lightly enough for you to question if it’s all in your head. If there’s something you’ve left behind then let it stay that way. You won’t turn back. Not this time.

It’s a silly thing to do but you’re doing it. 

Draped across your bed in a towel, you sip from a bottle of red wine and cycle through a heartbreak playlist that gives your lonely heart the company it desperately needs. The tears stopped a half hour ago, the last of them being shed in the shower. Your eyelids feel raw from all of the salty waterworks and your body’s exhausted.

A few feet away your phone sits on a table, lit up with text messages from the guys. After hearing what happened a few of them insisted on coming to get you but you can’t crawl your way towards the closet for the life of you. If not for their persistence you’d be content to rot in your hotel room for the rest of the night, drowning your sorrows in this bottle of overpriced wine.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“Nobody’s home” you groan, face down in the blanket. There’s a pause. Some shuffling on the other side of the door. Maybe it worked?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you toss the bottle aside and drag yourself over to the door. “Can’t a girl rot in peace?” you pout, swinging the door open. 

“If this is what you look like when you rot then rot all you want” Chan says, flashing you a smile so genuine you’re positive you must be dreaming. 

You stick your head out into the hallway, looking around for the other guys but there’s no one else in sight. “Chan, uh, what are you doing here?”

“Honestly? I’m afraid you’re gonna leave again before I can beg you not to.” 

With not a drop more of explanation he pushes his way into the room, kissing you like his life depends on it. His tongue glides over yours, savoring the taste of you mixed with the lingering sweetness of the wine. The kiss is so consuming you can barely get a breath in but air is vastly overrated when a kiss is laced with this much passion. There’s a year of longing inside of him and he pours it into you boundlessly. 

Tucking his hands behind your legs, he lifts you up, fingers delighting in the softness of your thighs. He missed this. The tenderness of your kiss. The plushness of your figure. The light, fruity scent of your perfume filling his lungs as he plants open mouthed kisses down your neck, suckling at your smooth skin.

His lips never break from you as he lays you across the bed, tearing your towel away like it’s nothing. His palms massage the fullness of your figure, riding every curve to cup one of your breasts. Your body tenses in response to his touch, moisture pooling between your thighs. 

Chan drags his tongue across your cleavage, his stiffening bulge pressed right against your core. “Tell me you’ll stay this time” he begs, lovesick eyes flicking up to you, “Don’t leave me again.” 

Brushing his hair out of his face, your fingers skate along that immaculate bone structure of his, bringing him up for another breathless kiss. His thumb brushes your nipple, making small circles on the tip of the bud, and you shudder. 

“I’ll stay” you moan, your thighs growing slick with your arousal. 

He pinches the bud, grinding his clothed cock against you harder this time, “Promise me.” 

Chan sounds so needy and it only worsens how badly you ache for him. You guide him back up to his feet, slipping to the edge of the bed to kiss his cock through his pants. You press your palm to it, riding the outline of the print while your other hand dips under his shirt to feel his abs contract with every touch. He tugs his shirt up over his head, giving your hands free reign of that beautiful chest.

You smile up at him, pulling down the band of his pants and his boxers at once. His cock springs free, thick, throbbing, and as deliciously veined as you remember. You stick your tongue out, licking up the arousal dripping from the tip. You smile up at him, your tongue retreating to say the words he wants to hear. “I promise.” 

You press your lips to the tip, taking it in further this time. You swirl your tongue around it, enjoying the satisfied groans that fill the room the more you take him between your fluffy cheeks. Your mouth is so warm and wet around his cock. It’s like heaven.

You relax your throat, taking him as far back as you can, before pulling back the slightest bit to wrap your fingers around the base. You rock your head back and forth, wrist rotating as you pump his shaft. You can feel every little twitch of his cock, taste the precum dripping on the back of your tongue, and it has you soaking through the blanket beneath you. 

Chan reaches down to play with your hair, utterly incapable of taking his eyes off of you. You look too pretty drooling around his cock for him to miss a minute of it. He wants to be like this forever with you. Not only this but everything. He wants to be with you. Near you. Inside of you. Anything you’ll bless him with. He just wants you right here, looking at him with all of the love and admiration you do with his cock throbbing down your throat. 

“My beautiful girl” he coos, tilting his hips in to push into you a little more. “All mine, yeah?” 

With your mouth stuffed so full of him he hardly expects you to answer. Your hum of agreement vibrating down his length is more than enough to let him know that you agree. You’re his again. You’ve wanted to be for so long and at last you are.

That knowledge is almost as intoxicating as feeling him on your tongue. Chan tangles his fingers in your hair, bringing your head back far enough that the head of his cock only ghosts your glossy lips. He plants a kiss on your forehead, staring so deeply into your eyes that you almost lose yourself. 

“Bend over for me, baby” he whispers and you nod your head, swinging around in the cutest way to assume the position.  

You crawl onto your knees for him, back arched and ass in the air. “Is this good, Channie?” 

If only you could see yourself from this angle. Your body’s beyond perfection and your pussy’s glistening like diamonds. He can’t stop himself from tasting you, a hand palming your ass as his tongue darts into your core. 

“So fucking good” he hums, his face buried between your thighs. His tongue dips up, dragging between your folds and teasing your clit. Your body trembles and he grabs your hips, lapping at your clit until his face is soaked in your juices.

“Channie, please, ah. Too much” you whine but your body tells a different story. You’re soaking wet, your walls so needy you’re clenching around air. Your hips arch and swirl, almost riding his face.

Chan’s too drunk on your pussy to listen, his free hand between his legs to stroke his cock as he devours you. His tongue pushes back into your core and your walls flutter around it, leaking like a faucet. His cock throbs in his palm, drenched in a mixture of your saliva and his arousal. He feels so out of it, so completely absorbed in you, that he’s racing towards his high faster than he’s ready for. 

Dragging his tongue out, he steadies himself, gripping your hips to bring himself right to your entrance. You wiggle your ass excitedly and he laughs, licking you from his lips. “You want it that badly, baby?”

You look back, serving a pouty face that’d bring even the toughest man to his knees. “I just wanna see how much you’ve really missed me.”

“I’ve missed you so much” he moans, sinking into you with one motion. You both nearly collapse at the dizzying pleasure of it. Your walls cling to his length as he bottoms out, filling you up perfectly. “I was going crazy without you” he confesses, pulling out and slamming into you even harder. Your body jiggles, the softness of your hips borderline sinful. 

You cry out, biting your tongue to avoid a noise complaint but the moans still spill out. Those broken, beautiful moans. Every stroke rides your sweet spot, pushing you further towards absolute ruin.

“I’ve needed you so badly” he coos, savoring the wet snapping sound of your body colliding with his. “Just like I need you right now. Fuck, I don’t know how I lived without this pussy.” 

Throwing his head back, he settles his knees at the very edge of the bed, bouncing you in his lap. He fucks into you faster, your juices splashing up and decorating his abs. Blindly you reach for a pillow, dragging it over to bury your face in because you know it’s coming. You feel it and so can he. Your legs are shaking, you can barely keep your body straight, and your walls are spasming too wildly to spare his sanity. 

You’re almost there, knocking right at the door of you high. But instead of keeping his pace, he slows down, every movement careful and purposeful. He angles himself against your sweet spot, making sure he doesn’t miss it once, and teases you to the point that your body’s almost crying to cum. “You ready to cum for me, hmm? You want it?”

“Mmhmm” you whine, eyes watering, “Let me cum, Channie, please.”

How can he deny the request of such a pretty girl? Picking up speed again, he thrusts into you, and your orgasm rips through you like an electric current. You bite down on the pillow, your brain going fuzzy as you cream all over his cock, moaning his name in broken syllables.

Chan has the glimmer of a thought to pull out but he’s too addicted to the feeling of you clenching to follow through on it. It’s too late anyway, his heart’s already skipping beats, his seed spilling out into the warmth of your core. His movements grow sloppier, both of your bodies getting weaker by the minute, but he doesn’t stop until your knees give out.

You summon the energy to roll onto your back, giving that poor little pillow a break, and Chan collapses on top of you, his head resting on your soft belly. “You know” he pants, massaging your love handles, “This music is really sad.”

You giggle, your awareness of any music playing having faded away the moment his lips found yours. “You’re right, it is kinda sad, but I was sad.”

“Was?” he asks, propping his chin up on your belly, “You’re not sad anymore, right?” 

“Hmm, no, I don’t think I am.”

“And you really meant what you said? That wasn’t just sex talk?”

You need a second to think about what it was that you said. You’re sure you said a few things when he was inside of you. All of which you meant, of course. “Oh, that I’ll stay? Yeah, I meant that. As long as that’s what you really want.”

Chan climbs on top of you, strong arms caging you in as he hovers above you. “More than anything.” 

He kisses you and you close your eyes, letting yourself fade into him. You don’t regret going off to find yourself, it was something you needed to do, but there’s no doubt in your mind that this is where your heart is. With the shop. With the boys. And, more than anything else, with Chan. 

[darlingdaisyfarm]

what once was | Stanford Pines x reader

tags: sfw, memory loss, established relationship

a/n: this one was hard to write, not gonna lie. i even cried. thank u anon for this wonderful idea! Ford has always been such a complex character to write, but I tried to show his love, pain and his determination.

thank you for reading, i hope this breaks you as much as it broke me to write :,,,,,)

Stanley version

you wake up to the familiar weight of his hand resting gently on your arm, it’s warm and it brings a sense of. . . some kind of safety. as if you’ve felt it before, but. . . at the same time no. no, you don’t know why it’s so comforting.

you blink, trying to focus, but your head hurts like you’ve been hit by a truck. you rub your temples, wondering why it feels like your brain’s been shredded into pieces that won’t stick together.

your vision is blurry at first, but your gaze shifts to the man beside you. dark circles under his worried eyes that still got some hope in them.

Ford hasn’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in weeks.

“hey. hey, sweetheart. you’re okay.”

you analyse his face, feeling a slight sense of panic inside. “wait, who— who are you?”

Ford’s face drops, not in shock, but in something far more painful. you’ve asked him this question before. you’ve asked it every single morning since the accident. and every morning, the answer is the same.

“it’s. . . it’s me, darling. Ford. your husband.”

your husband, he names himself. . . you wish you could make sense of the emotions in your chest right now, but you can’t, because you don’t understand, you can’t remember, nothing’s connecting. nothing makes sense and everything feels so wrong.

Ford cant stand the silence. “y-you don’t remember, do you?” please just tell him you do—

“no. . .”

his lips press together and he looks down, but he’s not mad, not angry. no, Ford’s never angry, not at you.

“i— i’m sorry,” you mumble with guilt in ur voice. “i really don’t remember, i’m sorry.”

Ford shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, trying to control the storm of emotions inside of him. he’s trying so damn hard to stay calm and not burst into tears right in front of you. “don’t— don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. none of this is your fault.”

you continue to look around, trying to find at least one thing in the room which could be familiar to you.

“w-we’ve been through this a thousand times, love,” Ford explains and looks away, focusing on the empty space in front of him. "i know this isn’t easy for you. for us. but i’m not going anywhere, we’ll figure this out. i’ll— i’ll fix it. i’ll find a way to bring your memories back. i promise."

“how long?” you ask. “how long have we been. . . married?” it’s so weird to even pronounce the last word.

“seven years, my love.”

***

Ford holds it together for you. he always does.

every morning, he wakes up before you. sits at the edge of the bed, rubs the sleep from his eyes and prepares to tell you who he is.

who you are.

he’s a scientist, logic is his shield and his weapon. he throws himself into his work, searching for something that could help.

he’s got sketches pinned to the walls, equations scattered across the desk. an entire board dedicated to explore how human’s psyche and mind works.

he's been up countless nights, fiddling with wires and strange gadgets, all while researching any possible way to bring you back to him. every book, every article, every experiment. even though he’s exhausted, theres still light in his eyes that never fades, a fire in him too. a stubborn determination to make things right, no matter what.

you catch him once, sitting at that desk with head in his hands, probably tired as fuck.

“hey. . .” you forgot his name again, damn.

Ford’s head snaps up immediately when he hears you because he hopes you came to tell him “honey, i remembered! i remembered we are married!”. you see the redness in his eyes, from tears or lack of sleep, youre not sure. he scrubs a hand across his face, trying to pull himself together.

Ford looks at you, waiting you to continue, waiting to hear these cherished magical words. but you stand here all silent and confused.

“you should be asleep, honey,” he finally tells you, realising you won’t continue.

“so should you,” you say softly, stepping closer.

when you reach out to touch his arm, he shudders.

“i can’t, i can’t lose you. not like this. i need to work.”

***

but there’s always another plan. the one he doesn’t tell you about.

Bill.

and Ford is not proud of it.

he knows it’s a dangerous path, one that’s led him to dark places he never wanted to go. but the temptation is too strong. the idea of reaching out, of making that deal to bring your memories back. . . if only for a moment, if only for a chance to see you smile at him like you once did. Ford has considered it, weighed the consequences, overthought it.

but each time, he’s pulled himself back. he can’t go down that road again. he won’t.

still, this idea stays in his mind. because every hour of research, every failed experiment, every sleepless night feeds that urge, a feeling that maybe the price will be worth it. just shake his hand and—

but he’s trying so hard to fight it because he can’t bring himself to make that choice, no matter how broken he feels inside. he won’t drag himself into that nightmare again, no matter how much his soul hurts, no matter how badly he wants to see you smile at him.

right now, he just wants to hold you, to keep you close. to be the one you turn to. he doesn’t need a deal with Bill. he needs you. he needs you to remember him the way he remembers you.

***

another morning.

you’re lying there, your head pressed softly against the pillow, still struggling to make sense of everything, who you are, who he is, what this is, you feel a mix of confusion and fear.

his hand is resting gently on yours, as always, his fingers caressing your skin with a tenderness that feels. . . familiar again, but so far away. he’s looking at you, waiting. just waiting. sitting beside you, thinking, trying to come up with more ideas.

you flip through a page of his journal and one of his drawings seems funny to you, you smile as you point at it, asking, “hey, Ford, so what is that thing?”

Ford.

he looks at you in shock. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak as if the wrong word might shatter this fragile moment he’s been waiting so long to happen.

his heart pounds in his chest.

“Ford. . .?” you ask again, worried why he got so silent. unsure if you should’ve said anything at all.

again, you say it, his fucking name, and it shatters him. because it’s not just the name. it’s that you remembered it. that piece of him, the one he’s been clinging to with everything he’s got, has finally stuck in your mind.

his eyes shimmer for the first time in all these months. his gaze falls to your lips, memorising the shape of the sound you just made.

“did— did you— did you just say my name?”

you nod slowly, unsure if you’ve done something wrong.

but you did exactly what he’s been waiting for, praying for.

his hands grip at his face, trying to control the flood of tears that he can’t hold back any longer

“you— say it again. please. say it again.”

you’re confused at the urgency in his voice, but still do as he asks you. “Ford. your name is Ford.”

his name. his name. from your lips, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

Ford’s hand comes up, trembling, to cup your cheek. he touches you like you’re something so delicate and the sight of him hurts. hurts because you don’t remember what it feels like to be in his arms, what it felt like when he used to kiss your forehead goodnight, when he used to make you laugh until you couldn’t breathe.

“oh god, my love—” he cant continue because he simply starts crying. Ford presses a hand over his mouth, as if he could stop it, but he can’t. he can’t. “you— you remembered. oh, darling, you—” he just shakes his head, unable to speak as he gasps for air between sobs.

you stare at him, all lost. “Ford, are you— are you okay?” no, he’s not, he’s damn not, because he spent every waking moment trying to fix what’s been broken, for you.

Ford smiles through his tears, not even bothering to wipe them away. “no— yes. i-i’m fine, i just—�� another sob cuts him off and he laughs bitterly through it. “god, you don’t. . . you don’t know what this means. you don’t—”

it’s not the anger, not the frustration that has been building up for weeks. it’s relief. it’s all the grief he’s been carrying.

Ford leans forward, reaching out for your hands, but he hesitates, because he’s scared you might pull away. because too much emotions which Ford used to hide. but you don’t and he grips them tightly, clutching them, wide smile never leaving his face.

“it’s you,” he whispers. “it’s you. you’re still in there. i knew it. i knew it.”

his forehead drops to your knuckles, his glasses slipping, tears falling down. “i was so scared, my love,” he admits through sobs. “so scared i’d lost you forever. that i’d never hear you say my name again. that—”

he can’t finish the thought, can’t even say it aloud. it’s too much, too cruel.

“Ford, i—“

he looks up at you and his cheeks are streaked with tears, eyes red, swollen and wide with disbelief and love. so much love it hurts.

“you d-don’t have to remember everything,” he whispers, his voice trembling but so, so tender and soft. “you don’t. i’ll wait. i’ll wait as long as it takes. but this. . . this is enough for me. hearing you say my name, it’s enough, darling.”

you don’t know why, but his words make you want to cry, too.

you can’t find the words to comfort him. how do you comfort him when he’s the one who’s been holding it all together, for you, all this time?

“it’s okay. it’s okay, Ford.”

the words feel too small, but they’re all you can offer, as your hand brushes against his cheek.

and Ford, your lovely Ford, your husband, he melts into your touch, like an affectionate puppy. he doesn’t try to hide it. he doesn’t try to be strong.

“i’ve been trying so hard. . .” Ford remembers every sleepless night, every failure, every moment when he thought he might lose you forever.

he pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, holding you. you hold him back, just as tight.

“thank you,” Ford whispers into your skin. “thank you for remembering me, darling, for remembering us.”

you don’t know how much you’ve given him, not yet. but you will understand it later, much later. when you’ll remember him again, completely, soon.

but for now, you just hug him back, feeling how his body shakes, how he clings to you and you promise him you’ll remember.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, “i’ve always loved you, sweetheart. i just— just needed you to remember that.”

he’s not asking you to remember everything, to recall every detail, every moment. no. he just needs to know that you still remember him.

and you do.

you do.

[onwesterlywinds]

I've been thinking a lot again about the implications of the title of "viator" translating to "traveler" (prompted by Writing Things), and while there's been a lot of discussion about its relation/parallels to Azem, I feel like I've seen a lot less, if anything, on how "viator" plays into the overarching narrative of Garlean imperialism as well. For a relatively small detail, it's honestly one of the things I really think Endwalker did really well in its portrayal of Garlemald and Zenos.

Throughout XIV's history, we've been shown countless perspectives for why the Garleans invade and occupy other nations, whether it's [insert Nael's Bahamut tempering], Gaius' claims that peace can only come from a strong leader, the racism we see entrenched in Garlemald's colonial rule in Stormblood, etc. Endwalker, however, doubles down on the role of Corvos in Garlemald's history and elevates it to a founding narrative: the idea that the Garleans are justified in invading other nations because they themselves were driven from their own ancestral land thousands of years ago.* This is by no means the full scope of Garlean history (as just one example, Return to Ivalice posited that many other Garleans are likely descended from the technically-minded people of Goug), but it's still very consistent lore-wise and thematically for Endwalker to present the Garlean people's expulsion from Corvos as a creation myth for their empire, and the way this plays out in 6.0 MSQ lets us see the extent of the damage that that myth has done to those who have made it their worldview.

And introducing the term "viator" at the end of that arc as the name for the Empire's most loathed, reviled, and shunned class - the exile - ties into this idea so well: the greatest punishment the Garleans can give for one of their own is to make them a wanderer - to ensure that person is forever denied the home that they prize so highly in their society. This is a classic example of scapegoating, which has deep connections to empire throughout history and Western literature.

It's also such a fitting conclusion to Zenos' relationship with the Garlean Empire, too! One of the reasons I've loved Zenos as an antagonist since 4.0 is that despite treating the workings of imperialism as beneath him and irrelevant to his true desires ("Ala Mhigo and Doma and Garlemald be damned!"), he has a sense of entitlement to the peoples and lands of Ala Mhigo and Doma - and to you, the Warrior of Light! - that is extremely Garlean. The fact that (to paraphrase Lyse) he did all that just so he could feel something is what makes him such a perfect antagonist for Stormblood in my book. But to the Garlean people, that lack of care for his homeland - be it because (their own) people were tempered/killed from his actions, or the very sexy patricide/regicide, or that he caused the Empire itself to fall into ruin when he "should have" succeeded Varis - was to them the greatest crime he could commit. To put it another way, he probably would not have been named Zenos viator Galvus if he had first been Zenos zos Galvus.

And despite me forever lamenting the fact that the 5.X-era plot thread of Zenos having dreams about Amaurot never actually went anywhere, even that ties into his eventual role as viator: the only place with which he has ever had any real connection is gone forever.

Which makes a grave at the end of the known universe feel almost fitting in its tragedy.

(*On a serious note: While I do think the writers were intentional - and, mostly, thoughtful - around leveraging imperialist rhetoric, the fact that this particular framing is often used to justify an ongoing genocide is one of many reasons why I would be very happy for future Garlemald stories to stay on pause for the next few years.)

[pressureplus]

Ok ok hear me out.. what if, you did a part two of “Reflection” but the reader finally gets to read Sebastian’s document? And kinda sees how similar they look. It’s kinda dumb because it wouldn’t really much to write about but it’s just a thought 😭

No no, don't apologize. I can work with anything as long as its got 1 sentence or three descriptive words and a vibe! I can easily make you a part two!

Doppelganger

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟ ◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

At last you purchased that damn document of his. It had sat on his desk almost teasingly out of your hands. A previous attempt to grab it had ended with his hand pressed over the classified file and a smile. His words spoken slow, as though you were stupid, as he explained that you certainly didn’t have enough for that. Now you could finally touch it all you want. A part of you was feeling a bit sassy when you snatched it right off his desk proudly. The thousand data pieces you just sold to him being shuffled away. You ignored that, for the most part, more focused on finally getting your hands around the classified information you’d been curious about. Finally popping open the file to see what it is he’s been leaving on his desk, you’re met with tons of information. A few pictures falling out that you don’t quite manage to catch.

You ignore them, taking a seat in Sebastian’s shop as he moves around the room, shuffling different pieces of paperwork and chips into places. His hands reaching up for the vents above his head and tugging out a few spare pieces of equipment. You can hear him opening the packs her wanders around with, attaching things to the straps around his body. You choose to ignore that for now. Instead choosing to read the file in front of you. Your eyes scan over the first line, catching onto three things at once. His technical experiment name, his codename, and finally his legal name. Your eyes scanned each individual word quietly. The shuffling in the background not particularly drawing any of your attention. There’s that shoot to kill statement you’ve heard a thousand times before. You’re starting to understand why he’s so aggressive. You’d be pretty pissed too if you were an experiment gone wrong, especially if you hadn’t even done the crime you were accused of.

At last you shut the file, eyes being drawn back to the images now laying on the ground. You scoop them both up. In your hands is an image of current Sebastian, larger and aggressive. He looks damn near ready to shoot the camera. On the other image…you. No wait, not you? His jawline is a bit sharper and he’s got a scar on his face but he looks so much like you. Honestly, it’s a bit shaking. A mugshot that isn’t yours but looks so much like you. The more you stare at it the more begins to make sense to you. The dots connecting on why his reaction to your face was so aggressive. Why he tends to almost stare a little too long. You thought it was because he found you ugly, or because he was trying to grieve the death of a loved one. In some ways, you suppose, he is. He’ll never have this face again. He’ll never be able to see himself properly in the mirror and he certainly wasn’t the innocent man accused of a crime he didn’t commit anymore. How many people had he killed trying to get what was necessary to escape? How human was he anymore, without his face, without his body. Was it human desperation, or animal?

“You never told me you were so pretty.” You joke as Sebastian jolts. It seems he’d gotten so wrapped up in adjusting things that he hadn’t even realized you were still in here. His eyes flick from your face down to your hands. You turn the picture of him around, pointing at it. This only seems to make him mildly uncomfortable as he looks away with a huff.

“Could you not have opened that anywhere else?”

“Sorry…it’s just…you really are handsome.”

“I was, I guess. That was a long time ago now quite obviously.” He slithers closer, scooping up his file and taking the pictures back. He’s careful to push them back into the titled document before shutting it. Then and only then does he hand the folder back to you.

“You still are, maybe you look a little different now, but you’re still very pretty.”

“That’s not a funny thing to joke about.”

“I’m being serious, Sebastian. You’re pretty with or without a human face. Even if this one isn’t really ideal…I still think you look great.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve still got yours intact.”

“If it’s too painful to look at, I can fix that by wearing my helmet all the time? I just want you to be comfortable. I want you to know that even if you’re not human anymore that doesn’t make you…a monster.” He hesitates, the words sinking into his skin. He’s quiet for a good while before sighing. His hand coming up to his face to drag downward, a display of his exhaustion.

“Just…get out. Take your folder, your batteries, and go back to getting that crystal.”

[corkinavoid]

Hogwarts??? So you hate trans people then, if your supporting jk

First of all, it's 'you're', not 'your'. If you want to accuse someone of something, then at least do it in a grammatically correct way.

Second, that's a lot of conclusions for no apparent reason.

Third, don't like - don't look, the 'block' button exists for a reason, and I'm not here to provide a comfortable experience for you. You're the one responsible for that part.

With that out of the way, let me rant about how much I fucking despise J.K. Rowling.

Let me get this straight, though, her stance on trans rights is not the first or the main reason for my dislike. In all honesty, I don't have enough care in myself to touch internet drama with a ten foot pole, so all I know about it is that apparently Rowling hates trans people, which, yeah, fuck her.

By the way, what do you even consider 'supporting an author'? Buying their books or merch? Liking their Twitter posts? Defending them on social media? Because I've done literally none of that. I haven't even watched the movies, and I've never read the last book, because at the time it wasn't published (or written yet), and by the time it was, I was already into Eragon series and didn't care about Harry Potter.

Now, to the important part.

I fucking hate J.K. Rowling because of her absolute lack of comprehensive worldbuilding. She sucks at creating a logical system of magic, at her own world's history, economics, and politics. Nothing in her books makes sense.

Why do the wizards need wands? Why do they write with quills on parchment when there's paper and notebooks and goddamn ink pens and color pencils? Why don't they teach math in Hogwarts? Why don't the teachers have, like, some introductory lessons or at least books for muggleborn or muggle-raised students? What the fuck was that 'power of mother's love' bullshit? Where did that story about Peverell Brothers and Death come from, and why didn't anyone think to mention it when Harry first got the Invisibility Cloak? Why in the world is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in the girl's bathrooms of all places? Why is there a subject for Ancient Runes but no one fucking uses runes? Why didn't Harry sign up for Muggle Studies, it would have been an easy grade? Why was Hermione the only one to have a time-turner in the whole school, she was fucking thirteen, what was McGonagall thinking? Where are any kind of PE lessons? Why the everloving fuck was Triwizard Tournament held at a school, with teenagers participating? What's more, why couldn't they choose the champions beforehand so the visiting schools didn't have to transport their whole student bodies over for a year? Why were they fighting dragons when it's common knowledge that no sane adult person would dare to do that alone by themselves? What was that arch in the Ministry where Sirius died? What the fuck was even going on for the most part of the series?

None of it makes an ounce of sense. Every fucking event in the books is a product of poor imagination and lack of logic. Rowling is fucking dumb as a brick. I've heard five-year-olds come up with stories that had more reason than the whole Harry Potter series.

Have you seen the 'map of wizarding schools' she came up with? That thing makes me feel the rage of a thousand men. One single school for the whole damn Africa? Bitch, there are over fifty countries there, each with their own language, how do you expect them to communicate? Not to mention India and China having one school for both of them, do you have any idea of the population of both of those countries? That school must be, like, a size of a city, not to mention culture differences and language barriers again.

Also, what was that fucking thing about kids flying on whole ass trees instead of brooms in Koldovstvorets, that one offends me personally. Not to mention the actual name of that school, because it translates to 'magic palace', are you kidding me?

I can keep ranting about this for hours, and never run out, but this is getting rather long, so I'm going to wrap this part up. Just know that the whole of Rowling's worldbuilding is a ton of bullshit that has no right to be as popular as it got.

Yet, I do like the general idea that she had. The magic world that is hidden inside the real one, the whole charms and spells aesthetic, a castle full of secret passages, and all that old classic English vibe to it. It could have been good. It could have been marvelous, if Rowling had, like, a few more braincells. Alas, she didn't, and here we are.

A few years ago, I've found a fic on ao3, 'survival is a talent' by ShanaStoryteller. It's a Series Retold, and it's incomplete. If you haven't read it, I really advise you to, it's perfect in a way the original will never be. Ever since I've read it, I decided that that fic is my canon version of Harry Potter.

On a different note, I think that at this point, HP fandom and J.K. Rowling exist in two different dimensions. That woman had created a world, yes, but it doesn't belong to her anymore, it belongs to everyone who enjoys it. She clearly doesn't, she only enjoys the profit she is making from it.

If you've made it this far through my Harry Potter related rant, thank you, and have a beautiful day <3

[lurochar]

Relief in Falsehoods

Background Alastor x Reader, One-sided Vox x Reader, One-sided Vox x Alastor

Just wanted to try writing Vox. Hopefully I didn't mess his character too bad

---‐---‐----------------------

This was a new low.

Even for him.

But how could he help it? He had no idea that old-timey prick and his companion (his lover? wife? Or in deer talk, mate?) had come back after a seven year absence.

It pissed him off.

Because deep down, he still felt that yearning that never extinguished, even after that oh-so brutal rejection he had gotten from Alastor.

Approaching you hadn't even been an option after that either, as Alastor had ‘kindly’ warned him to never step in your presence again.

And now here he was, standing in his penthouse suite, standing tall with his normal cold expression on his flat-screen face, but internally, he felt like the lowest of the low, a loser who couldn't get over his strange obsession over two people he should have forgotten about years ago.

Val had seen the anger and stress and provided him with a simple solution: he sent Vox two of his porn actors to give him the release he desperately needed.

And not just any regular porn actors, Val had gone out of his way to look for ones of this specific type and so Vox had damn better well be happy with it or–

“You're fucking joking, right?” Vox's eyes twitched. He glanced between the two shivering, scantily-clad whores already on their knees, waiting to take orders. 

Val had really sent him two deer demons, one male and one female, in an attempt to get him out of his pissy mood?

This just pissed him off more.

Had it been Alastor or Y/N, that would be a completely different story, but–

“I guess this is what role-play is for.” Vox muttered to himself before his eyes widened and it swirled with hypnotic waves and the two deer whores immediately stiffened as they fell under his trance.

“You,” Vox pointed towards the nameless doe, “until this is done, your name is now Y/N. Is that understood?” He moved to her, disappointed there wasn't much of a resemblance between her and you other than you both were deer demons.

“Yes, Mr. Vox, Sir! My name is Y/N!” She stated, absolutely beaming up at him and then shuddering when he reached down to stroke one of her ears.

“You always were such a sweet little doll, Y/N. Why you are with that radio fucker is beyond me.” Vox's screen glitched as he recalled the true you and how content you were at Alastor's side.

It could have been him.

It could have been all three of you.

Instead of Valentino and Velvette, it could have – should have – been him, you, and Alastor ruling as Overlords as a trio, owning thousands of souls, drowning in money, and just living a life of perfection.

But Alastor threw that all away.

Vox's screen turned red and he turned to look at the buck still on his knees, still looking blank under his hypnotism. “And you, your name is Alastor until I say.”

The buck quickly responded. “My name is Alastor. I understa–” Vox kicked him in the stomach, causing him to double over, though Vox just lifted his head up by his (not red and black) hair.

“Y/N is the lucky one. I don't have much of a grudge against her. But you, Alastor,” Vox sighed, reaching down with his free hand for his belt and the buck began to tremble despite the trance he was under, “this night isn't going to be very pleasant for you. I can't even guarantee you'll leave here alive.”

Hmm, maybe Val was right.

Maybe he really did need this…

[sgiandubh]

When Cait married Tony she said they would honeymoon in Italy when it, meaning OL, was over. Good way to get it paid for by OL related appearance next March. Too bad she has to put up with Sam for a couple of hours. Sam, who said many times how he hated S2 costumes and was teased much by Meril, because he didn't like the feminine look. Too much like his true nature. He will certainly bring one of his prostitutes over past 3 years, Ashley being the latest, if her unnecessary week in UK last week for for anything else. 4 trips to Scotland for her in a year. It's clear which business she's really in.

Dear Business She Is Really In Anon,

I think you should be ashamed of yourself, for writing plain libel with no other arguments than your own twisted, bitter and irrelevant world view. If you consider that Ashley Hearn is a prostitute, just because she traveled four times to Scotland since late May 2024, then you are nothing more than a sad, sad troll, who thinks thousands of other women who happen to work in the marketing and sales sectors, all over the world, are also whores, right? You know very well all her trips have been more than thoroughly documented and you also know they did have a tangible impact, as far as that company is concerned. You should also get your fucking timeline straight before you treat us to your word vomit, because even the hatred you gratuitously spread around must have, technically speaking, at least some modicum of plausibility. She did not start to work for SS one year ago, punk: she started to work for them on May 21st 2024, which is exactly six months.

When C married McGill there is no way for you to tell what she said. You weren't there, you are a damn Social Zero and you just rely on word-of-mouth and ridiculously contradictory press releases and interviews. A honeymoon takes a week-end perhaps only in your shanty town and making the ball's organizers 'pay for it' is beyond ridiculous, including as far as C herself might be concerned (what is she, a cheap profiteer?) - supposing that 'relationship' would be anything more than a mutually convenient arrangement of sorts, of course. Sorry, but not the case.

Yeah, too bad she had to put up with S, against all odds, for eleven years, now. This is what really wrecks your pea brain, right? That, and being proven wrong and embarrassingly dumb, over and over again.

For your next endeavor, I suggest you'd turn your attention to your homeland telenovelas (you misspelled Maril Davis' name like a Brazilian and that is a dead giveaway).

Talvez Escrava Isaura seja uma substituição decente e mais acessível? Há reviravoltas baratas (gaslighting, veneno, delírio) o suficiente para mantê-la ocupada por um bom tempo.

You may wonder why I still answer your tragically ridiculous comments? Well, because it is time for someone to shame you and also show the true, dull and derisory colors of your stupid monomania.

[Later edit]: in no way did I want to imply anything negative about Brazil or its culture. I could have definitely better used one of the bajillion other Globo productions, dealing with Carioca intrigue and/or football wives. If I haven't, it is just because Escrava Isaura was a huge international success even in the Nineties, and remembered as such by many. While I am sensitive to the social and political inacceptable problem of slavery, I maintain that the 1976 adaptation of Guimarães's novel is simplistic and formulaic enough, hence more appropriate for Anon. I am sorry if my poor joke was construed differently and I apologize to all the people who might be offended. If you know me, you'd also know I am probably the last person to disrespect your country and culture.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hii you dont have to do this but can i request a part 3 to ethan x camgirl where they start talking and meet up. Thanks🫶

The ending kind of sucks, but it's already 1.8k and I'm tired of writing this fic so I'm posting anyway

Warnings: 18+, smut, p + v, virgin!Ethan

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

What were the odds that you and Ethan both lived in New York? You didn’t attend the same college — he was at Blackmore and you at NYU —, but it was still a damn good coincidence. It was also almost unbelievable that you never bumped into each other when you visited friends at Blackmore.  

After weeks of messaging back and forth — a few late night sexting sessions —, you decided to finally meet in person. It was nerve-wracking and exciting at the same time.  You couldn’t wait to see those sweet dimples and bambi eyes…and kiss the hell out of him. 

When Ethan got to the party, he felt dumb for asking you to meet him there because these frat houses were always jam-packed with people, but you were already on your way. It was too late to change the plans.

He stood in the room, deep brown eyes glancing around at the sea of faces, trying to spot someone who matched the beautiful girl he saw through his screen. What he hadn’t thought of was that looking for someone at a part could be like searching for a needle in a haystack. 

‘’Ethan!’’ Chad called out, walking up to his roommate with a red rub in his left hand. ‘’We’re missing a player for beer-pong, you in?’’ 

Chad must be truly desperate to ask him to be his beer-pong partner because he knew how terrible he was at the game. 

‘’Sorry, but I have to decline,’’ Ethan said. ‘’I’m waiting for someone.’’ 

A teasing smirk curled at Chad’s mouth. ‘’Someone, uh? You mean a girl.’’

Ethan rolled his eyes, fighting the blush on his face. ‘’Shut up.’’ 

The night went on, the frat party roaring with energy, and he finally spotted you in the midst of the crowd. You had on more clothes than he was used to seeing on you, but you still looked gorgeous — you always did. 

He made his way over to you, a shy smile drawing on his face as he got closer. 

You pulled Ethan into a greeting hug, feeling like you were past formal greetings. He saw you stuff your fingers in your cunt as you moaned his name, shaking his hand would feel strange. 

‘’You smell good,’’ Ethan said, your sweet perfume enveloping him, a nice change from the strong weed odor that filled the living area. 

You chuckled. ‘’Thanks.’’ You pulled back and raised your eyes. ‘’I didn’t expect you to be this tall,’’ you remarked in turn, surprised by Ethan’s height. 

Being around you felt surreal to Ethan. He had to pinch himself a few times to make sure he wasn’t in one of his wet dreams. But you were really there, sitting beside him on the couch, your knee brushing his leg every time you laughed. 

‘’You okay?’’ you asked, noticing Ethan shifting in his seat. 

‘’All is good,’’ he lied, his face forcing a smile. 

‘’You sure? We can go and get some air if you want.’’ 

‘’I don’t need air, it’s just— I don’t want you to think I wanted us to meet so I could use you for sex, but my dick has been rock hard since that hug and it’s getting really uncomfortable.’’

You looked down to see the tent in his pants and laughed softly. ‘’Why didn’t you say so?’’

‘’Because it’s embarrassing...’’ he mumbled, wishing the couch would swallow him.

Leaning closer, you said quietly. ‘’Would it be less embarrassing if I said I’ve been dying to leave and have you to myself?’’ 

No other words were spoken. Ethan just stood and you grabbed his arm as he guided you through the bodies of partygoers. He kept his head down and smiled at the ground, the feeling of your hand curling around his bicep sending butterflies in his stomach. If a simple touch ignited this kind of reaction from him, what would happen when your hands will be touching lower on his body?

The walk to Ethan’s dorm felt like a thousand miles away. The chilly night air nipped at your bare legs as you strolled through the dimly lit campus pathways, holding on to his arm the whole way. You couldn't wait to be inside and finally kiss him.

You barely made it inside the building lobby that you had pulled Ethan down by the front of his polo shirt and captured his lips with your own. He gasped against your mouth in surprise, not expecting that kiss, but quickly recovered and kissed back until he was out of breath. 

Grabbing his hand again, you hurriedly took the stairs to the third floor — as instructed —, and watched with amusement Ethan unlocking and shutting the door with a clumsy eagerness. 

‘’Come here, pretty boy,’’ you said, pulling Ethan down and kissing him again, gentle but deep. 

You could kiss him all night and never get tired, but the elephant in the room was nudging at your thigh and you just had to give it some attention. Without disconnecting the kiss, your hand wandered south down Ethan’s body, pausing right over the lump in his jeans. He let out a strangled moan at the contact, and it made you smile into the kiss.

‘’Should we take care of that?’’ you asked, dragging your mouth to his jaw while you rubbed him over his jeans,  touching him where nobody's ever touched him before, where he'd only dreamed of you touching him. 

Ethan’s head tilted back and you only saw it as an opportunity to kiss a line down the side of the neck, adding to the new sensations. You kept on stroking him slow and long until he couldn’t take it anymore, pleading once again. 

He peeled off his jacket, leaving it in a lump on the floor while you did the same with your sweater, leaving you in your lacy bra. You had picked it meticulously, hoping Ethan would be the one to take it off you tonight. 

‘’Fuck, you're gorgeous,’’ he murmured to himself, watching you closely.

You pulled at his polo shirt, and when he raised his arms to discard it, you looked at him appreciatively. He was hiding so many good things underneath those preppy clothes. You ran your hands along his chest, the smooth muscles that spread across his stomach and his chest and his arms. 

‘’You’re not bad either,’’ you replied, triggering a light blush on his cheeks. 

The rest of your clothes came off in a disordered fashion, trying to get naked as fast as possible. Once the goal was reached and everything was on the floor on the chair, you glanced down and smirked, admiring what you had only ever seen through a screen. Big enough to make you feel full, and pink and leaking at the tip.

‘’Looks even better in person than on camera.’’ You wanted to kiss it, but instead wrapped your fist around his cock, slowly going in up and down motions. Moans and pleas fell from his plush lips, causing more pre-cum to leak from the tip. ‘’Please what, baby?’’ you asked, gently caressing the line of his happy trail with your other hand. ‘’Just tell me what you want.’’

‘’I want you.’’

You leaned in to kiss him again, and this time the kiss was hungry as you guided him back to what you assumed was his bed — the letterman jacket on the other bed gave it away. You moved back and brought Ethan down with you as you lied on the typical college boy dark blue sheets. Some curls were falling in his face, reminding you of the shy boy you met months ago during a private session. 

You tucked his hair behind his ear, smiling softly at him. ‘’How do you want me?’’ 

On top. 

Connecting your lips for a quick kiss, you then grabbed a condom — which he had bought for the occasion — and switched positions so you were straddling him. Pushing up on your knees, you gripped the base of his cock and lined him up with your entrance. You could tell that Ethan was nervous, his breathing pattern faster than a few minutes ago. 

‘’It's okay. I got you.’’

You pressed gently, the tip barely sliding in, making Ethan grab the sheets and throw his head back from the overwhelming rush of new sensations. Slowly, you sank down onto him, inch by inch until he was all the way inside of you, and sighed. He felt so much better than you imagined. 

Ethan’s grip on the sheets tightened as a long moan drew from his mouth. ‘’Fuck, that feels good,’’ he whispered, his eyes still shut, scared that if he open them and see you sitting on his cock he’ll burst.

Taking a small pause to adjust, you tilted his face down to yours and leaned down, capturing his lips with your own as your breasts pressed against his chest. His eyes snapped open, only to close again and release the sheets to run his hands everywhere he could reach on your body. 

Once it was comfortable enough, you started moving your hips the same way you often did in your videos. Except this time, it wasn’t a dildo. 

Ethan groaned, squeezing your thigh and moving his other hand to your chest as you moved on top of him. He cupped your breast, and then tentatively squeezed your nipple. It sent a bolt of need through your core, settling right between your legs.

‘’Do that again, baby,’’ you encouraged, and moved your hips again, a long languid movement. ‘’You can be rougher.’’ You gasped, pressing your fingers over his, pinching and twisting your nipple the way you liked. It hurt in the best way. 

You continued moving your hips as Ethan played with your body, his mouth soon replacing his hands on your nipple, causing more mewls to ripple through. 

It wasn't long until Ethan began getting sloppy and whiny, silently letting you know he was close. Virgin men didn't last long — you knew —, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t use your own hand to speed your orgasm instead of making Ethan feel bad for finishing fast. 

You rubbed at your clit until you started to feel that coil tightening in your belly, getting close to the edge and, by some miracle, successfully reached your high closely together, echoes of your pleasure mixing as you clenched around Ethan’s spurting cock and milked him. 

When you were finished, you rolled off him, falling back on the mattress. You should get up and go pee, but Ethan curled up next to you after disposing of the condom, wrapping an arm around your middle and you didn't want to get up yet. He pressed his face against your soft breasts, a beaming smile on his lips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. 

‘’I’m really happy I spent my dad’s money on that private session.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld  @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy  @s-al-em  @darylscvmdumpster  @tommysaxes  @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble  @luiise  @planetkt  @vampyrgoff  @adrluvh @mymultiveres  @miqi-16 @not-liah  @lovenats01 @doestalker @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336  @arinexeisnotworking @halforangecuts @l3ndryz  @ilovelandry  @your-platonic-gay-lover  @Danniackerman  @angelxxrose  @lottiefromsam  @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch

[samenameastheothers]

Right Person Wrong Time

✨MDNI✨

Just something I cooked up over the weekend...First time ever writing something like this so pls be nice!

Warnings: Smut, Hate sex (kinda not really), Swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel was always there it seemed. 

You didn't think that getting a job with the Inner Court would mean falling in love with and then getting your heart completely crushed by the singular most untrusting male in the entirety of the known planet. Still, here you were, walking up the streets of Hewn City when you felt his presence like an irritating beacon behind you. 

“I thought this was a solo mission Azriel.” You said without turning around, this aggravating babying of you had to stop, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of meeting him eye to eye. 

“Trust me, If I didn't have to be here I wouldn't be.”  Suddenly the Spy Master was beside you, his deep voice shooting through your core, god you hated that he made you feel that way. Hated that it reminded you of a different time.   

“Rhys thought you might need backup, he sent me.” 

“And why wasn't I, the one leading this investigation, aware of this?” You hiss under your breath, you are angry, Rhysand should've known to send someone else. Keeping your composure so as to not draw a crowd in the most deadly city in Prythian is becoming a much harder feat to accomplish. Not turning and slapping Azriel as you both walk in momentary silence is even harder.

“There wasn’t time to send you a message before you left.” He responds finally with the lame-ass excuse you've heard before. He would say the same about himself when he forgot to tell you he was leaving for weeks on end, you used to have to get all your information from Mor.  

“Then you shouldn't have come, I can handle this alone.”

“The court doesn't think so, not after what happened last time.” 

You whirl to face him, damn the not fully acknowledging his presence bit you were trying to keep up. 

“The Court knows that was not my fault. You know that was not my fault.”

You are inches from the Illiran male now. You look up at him where you stand just around the height of his heart, shooting daggers at the male with your eyes. You can feel his hot breath fanning your face as he glares down at you, his eyes burning with hate. You silently realize how much the winged male despises you now. At the moment you think you despise him more.

“No, I do not know that it wasn’t your fault. And in case you forgot, I am the one who keeps this court secure, so take my close proximity as an investigation sweetheart.” 

Oh, you definitely loath him now, him and the stick up his ass that makes him believe he is so much better than everyone else.  

“Fuck you Azriel.” 

There is about a second before you realize you fucked up, maybe in the months away from him you forgot what pushes him over the edge, but as Azriel grabs you by the wrist and basically drags you down the street, you realize you do remember what pushes him. When he swings open the door to the safe house, slamming it closed as he pushes you up against it, you realize that you wanted to push him to see what he would do. 

“Say my name like that again, I dare you.” 

His voice laced with bitterness, and something else that you didn't want to name quite yet, makes your face heat and you pool under his scrutiny. 

You lick your lips and your eyes betray you as you look down to where his hips pin yours to the door. It's been so long since the two of you have been this close, so long that you've been this close to anyone. It would be a lie to say the burning in your core was still only your anger, it was now replaced with the familiar feeling that only Azriel could give you. 

“Fuck you Azriel.” 

You repeat your words and your head bangs against the wood of the door as you meet his eyes again. You see a thousand emotions pass through his dark eyes until he puts up the wall to his soul again, the wickedness creeping back in. 

“If you wanted it so bad you could've asked earlier baby.” 

He slams his lips into yours immediately hungry, instantly wild, and you return the passion with your own pent-up emotions. You feel everything you've felt for him over the past few months pour out of you and into the kiss. You're not able to stop him as his tongue slides into your mouth, deepening the kiss. There's no hint of kindness from him, just pure sex, as he tastes you again claiming the way you moan into every press of his body and tongue on yours. His hands slide under your legs and he lifts you to make you eye level with him. Azriels shadows glide across your thighs where they sit around his waist, you missed the feeling they gave.

You missed the way his wings shiver every time you tug on his dark curls, and as he breaks his claim on your mouth to start down your neck you know there's no stopping the path of his kisses laying claim to you. His mouth reaches the spot between your jaw and ear and he bites down on the sensitive skin making your eyes roll. His torment of your neck continues until you're on fire, you need more of him like you've been starved of something vital. He attaches himself to your mouth again and starts moving away from the door to the bed in the corner of the small room.

The only time Azriel is clumsy is when he is kissing you, you both slam into furniture and walls making your way over to the bed. He curses under his breath as he knocks over a picture frame and it shatters as it hits the floor. You claw at his leathers undoing the straps you know well as he works on untying the laces on your back, moving together like it was just yesterday you were doing the same daily. He lays you back down on the bed, his shirt stripped from him. On top of you with his skin golden and wings spread, he looks like some god or a fallen angel. He’s going to fuck you, you know in his eyes that there is only one way this ends. You have half a heart to crawl out from under him and leave, but his hands running down your chest feels too good and if you don't look closely you can almost imagine it’s love in his eyes and not hate. You squirm under the path his tongue makes over your sensitive body, heat gathering and begging for some sort of friction in the lower part of your person. His thumbs loop under your waistband and he drags your last pieces of clothing down your legs kissing the goosebumps that form in the wake. His kisses make their way to the inside of your thighs, sucking and biting on your soft skin. You moan his name and run your fingers through his hair when his hands finally reach the spot where you need them most. 

“Fuck baby, you still get wet for me?” his voice husky as his fingers find the slick between your legs pulling away to show you the shine to left on his hand. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them, moaning deeply at your taste.

“You taste so goddamn good, missed the way your pussy tastes for me.” 

his words slurring as his head dips down to your core. He licks a line straight up your center and you shudder at the feeling. His tongue circling your clit lightly, teasing you, making you move your hips closer to him in response. Begging for more of him. 

“Please Az, don’t tease” you whine, your face flushed and red.

He hums against your clit, sending vibrations through your body. Azriel then starts consuming you, like it's him who hasn't fed in months like it wasn’t he who told you he could never be with you again. He eats you out, harsh and wild and intense, his tongue sparking a flame in your core and feeding it till you’re on the edge of yourself. You feel like you’re burning, pleasure rocketing around you until you're gasping, not able to remember what you were here for. 

Azriel doesn't stop his assault on you for a second, his gaze meets yours when you dare a look at him. His dark curls between your legs thrown over his shoulders, and his half-lidded eyes staring up at you almost send you over the rim of control. You feel the pull to him, his being, as bliss clouds your mind. His fingers feel your entrance, and you watch as his scared hands move into you, stretching and filling as his tongue focuses on your clit. You're a whimpering, moaning mess at this point, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers curling into you. 

 "Come on sweetheart. Let it go, I want to watch you come around my fingers."

Azriel wraps his mouth around you and flattens his tongue against your clit giving you the control to grind down against his face. Your hips roll as you seek more and more friction, more and more of him until stars explode behind your eyelids. Azriel keeps pumping his fingers into you as you ride the wave of your orgasm and only gets up once your breathing is normal again. 

“Az..” you reach for him as he stands above you, you need to please him the way he just did for you. You need to show him that he still means everything. You grab his arm but something is off, you feel too much, emotions are flooding into your mind that are not yours. You meet his gaze the same time you see it, the golden bond connecting you to him, marking Azriel as yours and you as his. The same bond you prayed for a year ago, now forever connected you to the male who has broken your heart. 

“No, this can’t”, your voice breaks, “this can’t happen”

He pulls away from you like you've burned him, tears streaming down your face as he backs away from the bed where you lay. 

“No, it can’t.”  

And then he’s gone.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day sixteen: femdom kink

>>> listen my toxic trait is writing a five thousand word naoya fic and using it as textual evidence that i could fix him! also pretty sure this is my first time writing dom reader and it is for the most peggable man alive. this is for the sick and depraved bitches like me <3

>>> starring: naoya zen'in x curvy!f!DOM!reader >>> cw: femdom obviously, misogyny, degradation, coercion, bondage, pegging, cowgirl, creampie, breeding, gojo is hilarious, this cures naoya! >>> wc: 5.1k >>> event masterlist

he watches you for a while. he had heard about you, and was naturally disgusted and in denial. you weren’t even from a big clan, and you’re a woman—there’s no way you were as powerful as they say. you were even on his father’s radar, he’s overheard many conversations about your promotion to special grade and how it was done much too late. you even had his father fooled. what was so hard to understand? women had no place in jujutsu sorcery. women are good for reproducing heirs–having a powerful technique only helps in that effort. in his clan, their women stay home and take care of the children and their husbands like they’re supposed to, and that’s why there wasn’t any impressive females in the work. until you came along, second only to satoru gojo, or so they say. he just had to see for himself what all the fuss was about. 

naoya leaves the zen’in compound to take a brief break from the hei. your name comes to mind, and he seethes with rage at his brain’s reminder of your heralding. how had you risen so far without a humbling? he planned to fight you himself and put you in your place since no one else was willing to do it. he knew you kept close to gojo based off of your mission reports and the way people spoke about you two. everyone assumed you would marry him someday, but naoya was also looking for a bride. perhaps he could show you his power and prove your uselessness simultaneously, if you were pretty enough. that may not even matter if satoru gojo likes you. he would do anything to knock him down a peg too, and taking his preferred spouse would be a great start. 

finding you was easy enough, as he thought it would be. you continued to field missions on your own, but if you were in between them, you were helping out around tokyo’s sorcerer school. he watches you now, sparring with a student. he folds his arms over his chest and sits down on the steps furthest away from the scene. you move with grace and fluidity, outmaneuvering the male student you were fighting, and your grin was clear to see. 

“kusakabe—quicker!” you chide, sweeping his feet out from under him suddenly, pointing your bo staff under his chin. the first year boy chuckles beneath you and shakes his head. 

“damn sensei–i’m learning, take it easy!” he huffs, getting to his feet. 

  “this is me taking it easy—i’m not even using my technique, kid.” you sigh and roll your eyes, stabbing your staff into the ground next to you. “get outta my sight. next?” the other two first years shake their head, having seen enough for one day. “no takers? go find gojo.” you jut your chin in dismissal, watching the group as they trickle inside the school. 

naoya waits until they’re gone. you feel his energy as he comes closer, but you pretend not to. what could naoya zen’in possibly be at jujutsu tech for? you’ve heard plenty about him, and none of it has been good. you imagine this had something to do with his one sided tension with gojo, and that idea humored you enough to ignore his presence in hopes he aggravated your friend some more. but he calls your name instead, and you hesitantly turn to face him. 

he smirks with shallow satisfaction upon further inspection of you. yes, it is easy to see why gojo must be fond of you. you have a pretty face, doe-like eyes and full cheeks, soft cheekbones and jaw, full lips and long eyelashes. yes, you are very beautiful in just your face alone, but he does note the hourglass shape of your figure. your full chest is restrained by that ugly school uniform you wear, but it can’t hide it. your hips are perfect for birthing heirs, and you are strong enough in foundation to handle several of them, he thinks. 

“can i help you?”  you arch your brow, cocking your hip out impatiently. he was busy drooling, and you wonder if naoya has ever seen a woman before. “would you like a picture?” 

your voice brings him back to the matters at hand. he looks unamused, “unfortunately i’m not another one of your adoring fans.” 

“really? could have fooled me. what do you need then?” you tease, tilting your head to the side in confusion. you don’t fool him though, he can hear that matronly tone to your voice. look at you, already trying to cater to his needs. 

“i want to fight you. and then i want to marry you.” he states confidently, mirroring your tilted head out of amusement, though it’s you that starts laughing. his brows furrow in response. 

“are you being serious?” you titter, covering your shocked mouth with your hand. “such an interesting proposal, traditionally men court their potential brides.” you tease him again, now poking at the nature of his clan. but you don’t say no, and that interests him more than the attitude he’ll quickly put into place. 

“you’re far too boisterous for a woman. i’ll beat you, and then i’ll take you as my wife.” he explains simply, tucking his hands into the pockets of his robe. you’re entertained grin doesn’t falter, and he’s astounded by you. most women flounder and argue with him or they stick their noses in the air and just ignore him, but you…you were nodding. 

“deal. and when i beat you, i’ll take you as my husband.” you smirk, knowing exactly how to put this over idealistic man in his place, which just so happened to be under your control. 

“what?” he sneers, confusion evident. why on earth would you make the stakes the same even if you won? 

you shrug a little and examine him the same way he looked over you. he was tall and handsome, a bit more muscle bound than gojo with feline features. having a zen’in would be nice too, you think, smiling to yourself. “you’re a sexy little thing, i wouldn’t mind making you my husband.” you shrug, securing your hair. he was no first-year kusakabe, you knew you’d need your technique on him. 

he can feel heat sting at his face when you say that, having assumed he would need to try much harder to earn the fight and your agreement to marry him. you’re attracted to him already? 

“you gonna fight or you gonna stand there and catch flies?” you hum, cursed technique active already. you know his, but he does not know yours. he snaps back into it, feeling weirdly competitive not only in showing off his power and the value he would have as a mate, but to beat your peacocking. 

he huffs, rolling his eyes at you and jumping into action, clearly waiting on you to attack. you’ll bite, knowing he doesn’t understand the scope of your abilities. you throw your left hand out to release millions of threads. your cursed threads are so tiny they’re almost unnoticeable, and he thinks you’ve walked right into his trap. he uses his technique to phase out of your way, but not before you toss your right hand out and catch him in your webs. you smile, wrapping him up in the spider-like spins like an ant about to be eaten by the black widow. 

“looks like this fight is over, husband!” you cheer, crediting your extensive knowledge on his technique as the winning edge. had the fight been more even, perhaps it would have lasted longer. he looks down at you with a mixture of shock, disgust and…arousal? 

“when will we have the wedding?” you hum, tapping your chin in mock-thought. “i’m thinking the end of the month should give you plenty of time?” you grin, watching him squirm against your threads. you release your technique to spare him some pride. “assuming our deal is still on?” 

he has to have your power for his children. as he’s said before, the sin of the insignificant is the ignorance of true strength, and while he may not be quick to accept his defeat, he’s able to move into the vein of the potential you would bring him as a spouse. you would never fight again, you would never need to, but truly he had never seen someone like you before—male or female. embarrassment settles over his features, and he’ll make it a point to control your mouthiness after this wedding. 

“the end of the month will do. come to the estate by noon.” he looks over your cocky disposition and nearly seethes again, but the bigger picture is clear–so he has to put these feelings of confusion and shame aside for now, so he can reach his goals. 

you chuckle fondly. “i’d like to be married here, i think. i was the winner, no?” your cunning smirk makes his eyes narrow as he agrees. 

“fine.” he dismisses with an eye roll, leaving jujutsu tech’s school grounds with his mind a jumbled mess. you were everything he hates. a loud-mouthed woman who thinks she’s powerful enough to play with the big dogs. but… it seems you can. it isn’t all talk, you are extremely powerful…and you beat him. and he doesn’t hate that you did. in fact, watching you handle him without a sweat made him wonder if even toji would be able to handle you. what did that mean for him all of a sudden?

the wedding is lovely given the time constraints the planning was under, even though the guests in attendance are very confused and unapproving. kusakabe even approaches to make sure gojo didn’t dare you to do this. the zen’in clan comes in limited numbers, though they seem pleased with his ‘choice’ in bride. satoru walks you down the aisle—something he begged to do simply for the pleasure of putting your hand in naoya’s and leaning in to his ear to whisper. 

“good luck. you asked for this, remember that.” he chuckles, clapping him on his back before returning to his seat. naoya thinks about his words for the rest of the ceremony, even when he gets distracted by your perky chest and bright smile. he wonders just what he’s in for as you drag him along with you, his pride commanding him to straighten up and get it together as he makes it a point to match your pace. you chuckle at his neediness, and that won’t be the last time you do so. 

“so husband. did you enjoy your wedding?” you ask, walking him towards your residence only a mile or so away. he chuffs at your eagerness, the conflicting feelings in his gut telling him to be as petty as possible. he turns his head to the side and shrugs. 

“it was a wedding.” he says in non-answer, very immersed in the details of the trees all of a sudden. you hum, still holding his hand firmly. 

“aw, don’t be shy now, it’s just us!” you cheer, veering down a path that would take you towards your house. “personally, i enjoyed it. you look very handsome.” you practically coo, and his heart jumps at your tone. god this was insufferable. but he loves it. 

“it was..nice. zen’in’s would have done it bigger.” 

“and did you want it to be bigger?” you respond, and the sincerity in your question makes him wonder what he does actually want and like. he has always had everything except a connection, and maybe that was his own doing, a product of his environment—but still. you made him think. and after a few precious moments of silence reflecting on it, he doesn’t think he would have liked the ceremony his clan typically performs, nor everyone being there. he doesn’t much care for any one of them at all, so why would he have them at his wedding?

“actually. no.”  he squares his shoulders and straightens his back, seeing a humble little house come into view. “is this..?”

“my house. welcome home.” you smile and push the door open for him. he furrows his brows and cocks his jaw in confusion. “what? you’re my house husband now. close your mouth, sweetheart.” you hum, leaning over and physically shutting his mouth for him. 

“house husband?!” he erupts, his face turning bright red as you drag him into the house. why doesn’t he just fight you back, stop you? is it because he knows he can’t win? that realization alone makes him yank his hand out of your grip and stop in his tracks. you bat your eyes at him expectantly, knowing you had a little brat on your hands. 

“mhm,” you nod, a little grin tugging at your lips. you step closer, balancing your arms on his shoulders and playing with your fingers where they connect. “i made you my husband, silly boy. so i’ll keep running missions and you’ll shut up and do what i tell you to.” you tilt your head to one side, admiring the surprise and rage glimmering in his sharp brown eyes. “doesn’t that sound good?” 

you bring your hands back to his slender shoulders, trailing the touch to his pecs. he opens his mouth to speak, absolutely stunned. never in his entire life had anyone, male or female, ever spoken to him with such brazenness. his cheeks warm with color. no way he was enjoying this. is this what it felt like to be…submissive? his eyes narrow at you in the confusion, but he only sees that same angelic face and divine body, and he doesn’t think he can argue with the notion that obeying you might have its upsides. 

“and right now, i want you to follow me. time for the house tour!” you clap enthusiastically and tilt your head for him to follow you. he does, until he notices you’ve stopped by the bathroom. you lean against the doorway and gesture to the room. “the bathroom of course. you’ll clean this on mondays, should be pretty clean already. i have good hygiene.” 

his eyes widened a little bit once more. you were deadly serious, meaning for him to clean the house while you continued your job as a sorcerer. you move onto the kitchen with a smug grin. his feet move a little more reluctantly this time. you open the cabinet with all the cleaning supplies. “the kitchen should really stay clean. i’ll help you learn—i’m not heartless.” you chuckle to yourself as he folds his arms across his chest. 

you’re worse than heartless. you have to be the devil herself with all of this. you’re a siren at the least, so beautiful he really hadn’t processed all you were demanding of him until now, and he huffs and rolls his eyes at your remark. you smile sweetly still, unphased. 

“you just need a little time to get used to it, is all.” you hum, walking off towards your bedroom. you flip the lights on and make for your bed. he watches you take a seat, the short kimono you wore riding up your delicious thighs at the action. he was losing the plot, he just needed to take control. all women are submissive in the bedroom. “this of course is my room. if you’re a good boy you’ll get to sleep in here with me.” you titter, scrunching your nose at your own humor. 

“you forget yourself, woman. i’ll be the head of the zen’in clan in just a few years.” he scoffs, looking over your seductive positioning with a nod of approval. he enjoyed your attitude, he thinks, he’s sure it will make your sweet cries of his name that much more memorable. 

“the only one forgetting their place is you, husband.” you cross your arms over your chest, that arrogant smile still mocking him. “you can still be their little head as long as you keep my house clean and my bed warm.” 

oh that does it. you’re so patronizing, so demeaning—he stomps over to you, reaching to grab your face. you allow it for entertainment’s sake, looking up at him with big doe-eyes that almost made him forget why he was angry in the first place. but that smirk reappears, and he squeezes your face in frustration. “i’m not cleaning shit. you’re my bitch. you should be honored to be my wife. take your clothes off and shut your mouth.” he releases his hold, waiting for you to obey. 

and to his amazement, you do. you stand up and remove your kimono, watching him the entire time. the fabric falls to the floor and naoya is drowning in your curves and the lusty look in your eyes. you smile at his reaction, eyes trailing to his still-clothed form. even in his haze he understands you, pushing his robes off and wrestling with the string holding his hakama in place. all the blood rushes to his cock as he processes that it worked—you were just giving him a hard time after all, and he’d get his way as always. 

as soon as he’s fully naked, your threads are tied around him again. his eyes widen at the sight of your silvery silken yarns circling his waist and pulling him to the bed. you stand, moving out of your own way as you smile sickeningly at him. 

“wh—what are you doing?” he blinks rapidly, unable to break free of the strong web you were spinning him into. you position him on his back, legs strapped to the mattress and hands tied together above his head. 

“what’s it look like, husband?” you ask innocently, crawling over him like a lioness stalking her prey. he can see the real devious desire in your eyes now, and he gulps. he should have known you wouldn’t give in that easily. “you look so much better like this, you know.” you hum, extending a hand to finger-walk over his abs. the slight touch makes him jump and his cheeks warm. 

“you’re evil.” he hisses, fighting his restraints if for no other reason than to not focus on your soft fingers brushing against his skin. you giggle at him. 

“hardly, babe.” you chuckle, admiring the slight panic and deep arousal in his eyes. “pretend you hate it all you want. i see through you.” you lick your teeth, grinning at his proud length standing tall before you. “your mouth ruins everything though.” you sigh, ghosting your fingernails over his thighs. the touch makes his cock jump this time. 

“what does that even mean?” he huffs, annoyed at how his body responds to your taunting. 

“means you’re sexy, strong, and have a huge dick.” you deadpan, eyeing the good seven inches he presents you, curved and pretty with a cute pink tip. “but your loud, arrogant, disrespectful mouth ruins it.” you further, fingertips dancing along the insides of his thighs. it’s annoying—just enough to stir butterflies in his stomach but not even close to providing pleasure. your hands are so close to his dick, you could just wrap your hand around him and make everything better. he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, too focused on your teasing to hear your words. you trace his hip bones, humming a little. it tickles in the way that he wants more, so he grunts his dissatisfaction. 

you take your hands off him completely, looking at him with a raised brow. he huffs, almost pouting as he looks at you. 

“what are you doing now?” he groans, yanking at his ties in an effort to get you to touch him again. it’s pathetic. you haven’t even really done anything, but his dick already hurts. 

“don’t complain or you won’t get touched at all, kay? you better learn how to put this pride away or you’ll stay wanting.” you threaten, and he knows from your track record that you’re all too serious. he opens his mouth to protest, but you touch him again and he snaps his jaw shut. now your fingers target his chest, feather-light strokes over his nipples or light scratches across his pecs as he’s left helpless, only able to watch your naked body torture his from between his legs. he didn’t know he was so sensitive, but as your touches grow heavier, his eyes fall shut from the pleasure of his stinging chest. 

you can’t tear your eyes away from his leaking slit. it’s starting to drool down his shaft, and you’re giddy from the high, thighs rubbing together at the sight of him unraveling. he’s trying to repress ragged breaths and pathetic moans, but your pinching and tweaking his nipples had him fighting every wave of enjoyment. he can’t help the raspy groan he lets out when you lean over to kiss him. 

it was too short. you sit right back up as soon as he sounds off, and his brow furrows again. “already told you, baby.” you tsk. “gotta get a handle on that mouth if you wanna get fucked tonight.” you hum, picking your words carefully. 

he nods, straightening up against the headboard as much as possible. he doesn’t care, your touch is driving him crazy. he needs relief, and at this point he would do anything to cum. “would you like that? for me to fuck you?” you ask, hands back to squeezing his biceps and shoulders. 

he nods drunkenly again, frowning as he feels you shift away from him. his head snaps over to watch you once he hears the sound of shuffling in your bedside table, mouth gaping as he sees you pull out a glittery pink dildo attached to a black strap. he nearly chokes. you giggle. 

“what, change your mind all a sudden?” he nods rapidly, focused on the size of it, not quite as long as his actual dick but considerably thicker. you tsk again and pilfer for the lube. “i thought you wanted to cum?” 

“i do!” he says with haste. “you just can’t use that on—”

“mkay.” you sigh, sitting back in your spot with the materials beside you. “i’ll ask again in ten minutes.” 

his face contorts at your nonchalance, but once again you keep him from back talking. your slender hand closes around his shaft and his breath is ripped from his chest. luckily, you don’t take that as a sound large enough to stop, your grip sending electricity through his body. his pre leaks onto your hand as you pump him, so you collect it with a few of your other fingers. he watches with parted lips and red cheeks, heart dropping when he realizes you were moving toward his ass. 

you rub your fingers around the puckered hole, slathering the surface with all the precum naoya had produced from your endless teasing. while your other hand slowly strokes his cock, your other experiments lower, a finger slipping into the tight ring. he whimpers at the feeling, tightening around your digit as you lock eyes. you grin, nodding encouragement. you didn’t want to be too nice—he didn’t deserve it, but it was better than starting from scratch if he started bitching. 

your pumps match the pace around his cock and he slowly loosens up for you. you stay focused, giving him another finger and milking the pre from his cock with the tight grip your hand had on him. his lip is nearly bleeding from how hard he bites into it, and you giggle. 

“just tell me when you’re ready for the strap, baby boy.” you hum, eyes a little frenzied from the state he was in. it was all too exciting to be the one to humble naoya zen’in, but you were growing a bit needy at the same time. “it’ll feel so good. you know that’s where your g spot is? bet you didn’t. you zen’in boys are always so uptight.” 

he blinks harshly, only mild protests even coming to mind as the hot sweat of need coats his body. he has to have more. your fingers already felt unreasonably good…but if what you said is true, he supposes there is a reason. his chest heaves as he argues with himself, feeling you shove a third finger in him convinces him to nod vigorously. 

“yes what, husband? i need words, i’m just a dumb bitch.” you snicker, lightly flicking his balls and giggling when he jumps. he grunts again, feline eyes sliding over to the toy on the bed. “g-go ahead..” 

you shake your head, withdrawing all touch. he feels so empty and frustrated he could cry. “better words. don’t you wanna cum?” 

“in you.” he replies, and you hum with a pleased little smile. 

“that can be arranged if you can learn how to beg like a good boy.” you squeeze his thigh, the only link he has to your warm hands that only make him dizzy for more. he narrows his eyes, knowing that you’re only punishing him for his treatment of you, but he hates how much he loves it. he hates how easy all the words you want to hear come to mind, but also he doesn’t at all. he’s insane with need and would jump off of a bridge if you told him to right now. 

“god, just fuck me already–please.” his voice shakes out before his eyes clench shut so he doesn’t have to see you laugh, but to his surprise, you growl a little bit. he opens his eyes, finding you adjusting the strap to fit your wide hips hastily. you fumble around with the lube, trying to see what he would look like taking you. you liked what he said, and he wanted to hear you make your own noises, so he keeps going. “you’re stupid gorgeous, the only person i’d ever let do this–” 

you can’t deny the ego boost that gives you as you direct the tip towards his hole. “it’s cold, i know. you’ll get used to it princess.” you giggle, shoving the tip in and pausing to let him adjust. “i’m so nice—could just give you all of it at once and tear this pretty ass up.” 

he tenses every muscle in his body, the foreign object stretching him open burned and stung, but the ball of heat in his stomach only grew as your hips gently rolled to ease more in and start a pace. he gradually relaxes, sounds of pleasure rolling out of his pouty lips. thankfully, you don’t stop. you brace your hands on his abs and watch his face screw up in enjoyment. 

“see? i told you that you’d like it.” you grunt, voice wavering from the force you’re using to plow into him. “cute little house husband, i think it’s what you were made for, baby.” you snicker, huffing at the way the fabric of the belt you’re wearing rubs up against your unattended clit. 

he can only offer a nod as a reply, this was like nothing he had ever experienced, mouth dropped and eyes blissfully closed. his cock still aches from the lack of attention, but it almost adds to the delight of your hips smacking his. you release the threads around his legs, shoving them to his chest and giggling at the esteemed naoya zen’in, your husband, beneath you in a mating press taking your glittery pink cock. he whimpers at the new angle, so deep he’s writhing against the sheets. 

it’s a gorgeous sound, his deep-but-posh voice reduced to breathy whimpers and moans, leaky cock making a mess out of both of you. “don’t get too boisterous, little bitch.” he moans louder, either from your nasty words or to defy you, and either way you drop his legs and slide out of his ass. he’s whimpering at the loss until he feels you grab his cock. his eyes fly open to watch you hover over him, plunging onto his length once you get the angle just right. his dick jumps immediately, your cunt too warm, wet, and tight for him to handle after all your bullying. he shudders and shakes his head. 

“what? embarrassed?” you say with a little whine to your commanding voice, adjusting to his impressive size sitting against your womb. you’re panting already, mostly from all your hard work—but the need to cum is fogging your brain too. you drop all the threads around his wrists except one, directing the hand to your swollen nerve bundle before you trap the other hand again. “then rub my pussy and make me cum with you.” 

you pick your ass up and drop down again, taking him so nice and deep each time he doesn’t even try to muffle the grunts and groans flowing from him. he follows your order, thumbing at your clit as you abuse his cock, waiting to feel the flutter of your pussy to tell him to bust. “don’t even think about it, bitch.” 

he chokes a bit, looking up at your knowing face. “can feel ya twitching. you’ll cum when i tell you to.” he nods, rubbing at you fervently. you are the goddess he thought you were, but you’re also the devil in disguise, and he’s so in love it's ridiculous, demeaning, and everything he deserves for never realizing the power that a woman could have over him—or period. 

“there we go, there’s hope for you after all.” you hum at his obedience, feeling the tension building in your cunt. he watches you closely, his face still overcome with satisfaction and bi-colored hair messily strewn about his forehead. he fills you up so nicely, and his complete surrender does more to you than his dick. “go ahead and fill me up, my good boy. see if i can give you an heir.” you chortle, abusing his desires for your own twisted game. he can’t live with that, the idea of impregnating you means more than before. he knows it’s the highest compliment he’ll get, and it’s because he knows your allowance means everything. he’s spurting before you can finish your sentence, but you don’t mind, following over the edge seconds later. he’s so pretty when he finishes, whimpering loud and watching your face for approval. your lips are parted and your eyes closed, but you nod anyway. you must feel him looking.  you open your eyes and smile softly, swinging your leg off of him and leaving him tied up while you get yourself all cleaned up. he’s mush, thoughts and heart racing as he waits patiently for you to come back with a warm towel to clean him up and release your webs. so unlike him, but he’s hardly angry—he’s wondering what you want him to clean tomorrow.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 155 }

follow you.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ i will follow you way down wherever you may go | i'll follow you way down to your deepest low | i'll always be around wherever life takes you | you know i'll follow you... }

anonymous said: Is it possible to have a scenario with Jinwoo where f.reader is dealing with a co-worker in his 50s at work who makes her uncomfortable by making inappropriate remarks in his conversations with her and never respects her personal space, she isn't scared of him but he makes her anxious and nervous at his sight for 7 months straight...and she doesn't tell Jinwoo until he starts noticing that she spaces out more often lost in her thoughts. (Its a true event that happened to me at my work and I hope you can write a comforting scenario for it😮‍💨 also eager to see more of protective Jinwoo 😏)

lately, you found yourself dreading the thought of going to work.

you were a young woman who was a regular civilian in this world filled with hunters, gates, and monsters. ever since these strange gates began to appear all across the world, thousands of people awakened with this unique ability to combat against these threats-

your boyfriend being one of these well known hunters.

however, you were not one of those special humans that had awakened with these abilities.

which was why you worked a regular office job in the midst of the city. and your job was by no means too difficult-

however, there was just one tiny issue with your workplace-

and that came in the form of your highly persistent coworker.

he was a balding man that appeared to be in his mid-50s named ryung. the moment your assigned cubicle was directly next to him, the man made it his life's mission to constantly flirt with you. in between breaks, he would find you and proceed to talk to you, all while placing lingering touches against your arm or shoulder.

"you're so beautiful, hehe."

"you say you have a boyfriend, but i don't believe he's serious about you. hell, if i were 30 years younger, i would have snatched you up and put a ring on that pretty little finger of yours!"

"damn, your ass looks fine in that skirt..."

hearing such constant remarks was enough to make you shudder.

despite the many times you told him you had a boyfriend (that also worked as a powerful hunter!), the man refused to back off. and the fact that this had been going on for nearly 7 months now made it so much worse for you.

now, you were filled with anxiety when ryung casually saunters up to your cubicle. even during the times where you purposely ignored him, the man would simply proceed to linger outside of your cubicle, forcing you to listen to his heavy breathing and crazed mutterings, only walking away when the sounds of your other coworkers approaching forces him to make his retreat.

you thought about turning in your letter of resignation several times, but always decided against it, since this was a good job that paid well-

and you didn't want your boyfriend to do all the heavy lifting when it came to your shared finances.

being so caught up with your thoughts, you couldn't even touch the breakfast your boyfriend had made for you, making him frown in response. he calls out your name several times, but you remain completely unresponsive to him.

"sarang." he calls out your nickname while brushing the ice cold glass of orange juice against your cheek. the sudden, icy sensation felt against your skin successfully manages to break you out of your thoughts, forcing to face your boyfriend's concerned gaze.

"jinwoo... what is it?"

jinwoo sighs before running a hand through his hair, placing the glass of orange juice back on the table. "i was asking you if you were okay for several minutes now, and you just recently responded to me. is something bothering you? i noticed that you haven't been yourself lately... ever since you started your job at that company."

you shift around uncomfortably in your seat, feeling as though you were being interrogated by jinwoo.

"it's nothing, jin. just-"

"bullshit it's nothing."

jinwoo then casually sits back in his seat with his arms crossed, his voice coming out as strained as he was clearly trying to control his anger.

"has ryung been bothering you again?"

your mouth goes dry, meeting jinwoo's gaze with wide eyes.

"h-how did you know about that?"

a smirk paints his handsome features. "have you forgotten just who your lover is?"

ah, that's right... he was the shadow monarch. he probably placed a bunch of his soldiers within your shadow and saw what was going on through their eyes.

"i could always have bellion rip through him for you?" jinwoo asks you while letting out a series of rich chuckles, but you were only half-certain that he was simply joking.

"n-no, you don't need to go that far. ryung is harmless... but a nuisance."

jinwoo hums before gesturing at your plate of breakfast. "come on, go ahead and finish eating. i'm going to take you to work."

"oh, you don't need to, jinwoo-"

"sarang, please, i insist."

with his voice dripping with a saccharine sweetness, you could no longer deny him. letting out a sigh, you give him a nod before returning your attention back to the delicious breakfast jinwoo had prepared for you.

you spend the next thirty minutes making small talk with your boyfriend, setting up plans for the upcoming weekend while being filled with an eagerness for the end of the week. once you finished eating and jinwoo had washed all the plates did he grab his keys. smoothing out your blouse and skirt, you grab your own briefcase while walking out the door with jinwoo.

throughout the whole drive to your workplace, jinwoo holds on to your hand while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. during every stop light, he brings the back of your hand up against his lips, giving it a sweet kiss while basking in your joyful giggles.

soon enough, jinwoo arrives and parks in front of your office building, unbuckling his seat belt before heading out to open the door for you. seeing him smiling down at you, you give him his hand and allow him to walk with you into the building.

upon entering your workplace, several people recognized jinwoo and immediately greet him (all while trying to hold back their awe). your boyfriend keeps his hand on yours, simply returning their greetings with a smile before escorting you to the elevators.

the ride to the twentieth floor was filled with eager giggles and soft kisses, and you quickly felt your anxieties melt away. a few seconds later, the elevator doors slide open as you and jinwoo walked into the floor where you usually worked.

but instead of allowing you to enter your cubicle, he places a hand behind your back, leading you directly towards ryung's office space.

as if sensing you, the older man looks away from his computer screen, raspy voice calling out your name in an almost possessive manner when he faces you-

only to let out a desperate gasp when jinwoo uses his powers to lift ryung off the ground.

"ack!"

"jinwoo!"

but jinwoo ignores your sudden cries of his name, eyes glowing a bright purple hue as he continues to lift ryung mid-air with his telekinesis. choked sounds were heard coming from the man, and your mind was spinning, becoming filled with a sudden panic-

you didn't want jinwoo to get in trouble because of this man!

"if you continue to flirt with my lover so shamelessly like that ever again, i'll kill you."

within seconds, jinwoo releases his invisible grip on ryung, causing the older man to land on his knees for him. he was coughing, with tears filling his vision as the fear was evident in his eyes. completely ignoring ryung, jinwoo turns his attention back to you all while giving you a sweet smile.

"come, i'll take you back to your cubicle, sarang."

you give jinwoo an exasperated sigh, running your hips against his all while whispering to him, "you're insane, using your powers on him like that...?!"

"so what? i put the fear of the shadow monarch into him. there's no way he would dare to flirt with you now."

as if on cue, you hear ryung let out a whimper while pretending to type something on his computer. you shake your head at jinwoo, but still accept his kiss when he leans down toward you.

only after he was satisfied with your kiss did jinwoo pull away from you. "call me when you're done with your shift, and i'll pick you up."

you give him one last nod, watching as jinwoo leaves your office before deciding to login to your own computer, ready to start your day with a confident smile on your face, secretly grateful for jinwoo's intervention as you were certain ryung would leave you alone now.

{ ... }

the next morning, when you came into work and saw that ryung's cubicle was completely emptied of his belongings, confirming your coworker's mention of his sudden resignation-

that was when you let out a relieved sigh while giggling slightly.

perhaps you would need to treat jinwoo to something nice after all.

a.n. - hhhhh more double updates because i love jinwoo soooo much! 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[virginsexgod69]

imagine shane somehow pulled it together and survived with the group until season 3, but lori still sadly dies giving birth to judith. while they’re out on a run, he and rick meet you. at first they’re just jacking you for your weapons, ammo, etc, since they’re gearing up to fight the governor but then shane realizes that he wants to take you home so you can take care of his baby and him too. rick’s along for the ride too

❝ Taking Care ❞

pairing Shane Walsh x f!Reader

cw guns, mild swearing, typical twd violence, injuries

2.5k words

note okay wow, writing shane was lowkey kinda difficult hahahaha, but i tried my best! although i'm not sure if i like this or not... either way, i really hope i fulfilled your request!!!!!

“If this is someone’s stuff, we should at least leave them some.” 

“We need this more than they do. ‘M sure they don’t have a baby or are tryna gear up for a damn war.” The two men continued to ransack your sad excuse of a camp. Guns, knives, canned foods, all gone, shoved into their own bags. You watched them as they continued to rummage through your stuff. You knew you should confront them, but you’ve seen how scary people have become and didn’t want to leave the safety of the tree you were hiding behind. 

“Think there’s anythin’ good in that car?” 

“Maybe we should jus’ take the whole car.” 

You couldn’t just sit by and let them take everything you risked your life to accumulate. Even though your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute and your entire body shook with nerves, you removed the safety off your pistol and stepped out from behind the tree, pointing your weapon at the curly-haired man. 

“S-stop stealin’ my stuff!” You ordered, although it sounded more like you were begging. 

The men stopped and turned to look at you. They stood with confidence and clearly weren’t afraid of you. That made you even more nervous. The man you had your gun aimed at slowly put his backpack full of your stuff down before raising his arms up in surrender. His partner, however, reached for his own gun. 

"Don't!" you shouted, turning your gun on him instead. 

"We don't mean any harm, we just saw stuff, so we took stuff," the blue eyed man said. There was something about the way he spoke. Fearless, authoritative. It sent nervous chills down your spine. 

"Yeah, so why don't you put down the gun, darlin'," his partner said. His unflinching stance and muscular body gave you the impression that he wasn't one to mess with. 

"Tell your friend to put down my stuff and maybe I'll consider it," you bargained. 

The man smirked, clearly not taking you seriously. It pissed you off. 

"Do ya even know how to use that thing?" Now you were really pissed. You moved your finger to the trigger to fire a warning shot, but the man was on top of you instantly, tackling you to the ground. He grabbed the wrist of your hand containing the gun and slammed it against the ground until you dropped it, ignoring the way you screamed and writhed against him, trying to fight him off. With your gun now in his hold, he shoved it into your temple. 

"Shane, wai—" 

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't end your fucking life right now," he demanded, cutting his partner off. 

You sent a nasty glare his way, but when he didn't relent, you knew he was serious about killing you. You didn't want to show the men any fear, but you couldn't help the way your heart raced or how your eyes burned with tears. 

"You said," you swallowed nervously, "You said you have a baby, right? I-I can help! I was a nanny before the world fell. I know how to take care of babies and kids." 

He pondered over your words for a moment before clicking the safety back on and yanking you up from the ground.

"I think we should take her back, Rick," the man whose name you learned was Shane said. 

The other man, Rick put his hands on his hips before running a hand over his face in thought. 

"We already have people back at the prison who take care of Judith. If we take her that's just another mouth to feed," Rick argued. 

Prison? Did they have some sort of camp? Having a stable home sounded better than living out of your car and sleeping in a tent. 

"Do any of your people know baby first aid and CPR?" you asked. Now you wanted to convince them to bring you back with them. Anything seemed better than what you currently had going on. 

Rick and Shane stepped off to the side for a moment, talking in hushed whispers you could barely make out. 

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked as they two approached you again. 

"I dunno, a lot?" you replied, confused at the question. 

"How many people have you killed?" 

You sighed, getting tired of his silly interrogation. "Um, two." 

"Why?" 

This man was really nosey. "Cause they were bit." That's all the detail you were willing to give the man, but he seemed to accept it anyway. 

"Fine. We can bring her back," Rick finally agreed. Shane grabbed your upper arm and leaned down to your ear. "If I even think you're gonna try some funny shit, I will kill you." You nodded nervously before snatching your arm from his grasp. 

 You helped the men load the rest of your stuff into their car -this time you were okay with them taking your stuff since you'd be going back with them- and got into the backseat of their green car. 

When you arrived at the prison and saw that it was actually a prison, you were actually a bit shocked, but you didn't complain. Shelter was shelter and having it was better than not. You followed the men inside, curiously looking around as you did so. An elderly man and a young girl holding a baby sat at a table in the area before the cells. Their guards immediately went up when they saw you walk in behind Rick and Shane. 

"Who's this?" the man asked.

"This is...uh," Shane trailed off, not knowing your name, so you quickly told him. 

"We found her in the woods. Said she was a nanny, so we brought her back to help out with Judith," he explained as the girl handed him the baby. He smiled down at the baby girl in his arms before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

"Hello, nice to meet y'all," you greeted. They both seemed apprehensive, but returned your greeting nonetheless. 

"And nice to meet you!" you said in a quieter, higher pitched voice to the baby in Shane's arms. She couldn't have been more than a few months. It felt strange seeing a baby so young in the middle of the apocalypse. You assumed Shane was the father, considering how he was the one cradling the infant in his arms and not Rick. But who was the mother? You glanced up at the girl. She seemed way too young to be having a baby with Shane. 

Her blue eyes met yours. "Oh, um, I'm not her mother," she explained. You could tell by everybody's body language that you shouldn't ask who is, so you kept quiet. 

"Can I hold her?" you asked Shane. 

He looked at you for a moment, deciding if he wanted to trust you to hold her just yet. He gently placed Judith into your arms, his warm hands brushing yours in the process. 

"Hi, baby!" you cooed, overtaken by her cuteness "aren't you jus' the cutest lil' thing!" She just looked at you, not a thought behind her eyes. You couldn't help the way your face split into a gigantic smile. You glanced up at Shane, but he was already looking at you with a ghost of a smile on his face and eyes less cold than they were earlier. You handed him back the baby and he handed it back to the girl before motioning for you to follow him. 

 He led you through the prison, to a cell you'd be staying in. When the other members of his group saw you and demanded answers, with authority present in his tone, Shane told them you were here for his daughter and here to stay, leaving no room for questions. Even if they didn't seem to agree with his choice, they didn't say anything. You sat on your cot. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it was heaven compared to the dirt. 

"Thanks for bringing me here," you said looking down at your shoes. 

"Better uphold your end of the deal or else I'll turn you loose and leave you for dead." 

What a warm welcome.

 In the week or so that passed, everyone started to warm up to you, especially Shane. At first, you suspected he was hovering because he didn't fully trust you with Judith, but when he hung around you, even during the times you were without Judith, you started to suspect he liked being in your company. And his wasn’t that bad either. 

“Hey there,” you greeted as you approached him with baby Judith in your arms. He stood in the watchtower, having been in there keeping watch the night before. The bright, early morning sun shone on him, making his brown eyes glow. He smiled happily at his daughter before smiling at you too. 

“What’re y’all doin’ up so early?” He asked, taking Judith from you and cradling her in his arms. 

“The little one was hungry, had to get up and feed her.” 

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked you. You nodded your head. 

“Why don’t you go get yourself somethin’ to eat?” His voice was laced with genuine care, which shocked you. He hasn’t shown too much care for anyone in the short time you’ve been here. 

“What about you, you’ve been up here all nigh. Surely you’re hungry?” He handed you Judith and turned you around, gently nudging you toward the exit. 

“Mornin’, Beth,” you said cheerly as you helped yourself to a granola bar. You though about it for a second before grabbing one for Shane too. 

“Hey,” she replied. 

“Do you mind watching Judith for a bit? Gotta do somethin’ real quick?” She agreed and happily took the baby in her arms. 

You hurried back to the watch tower and thankfully, Shane was still in there. 

“What’re you doin’ back in here? Thought I told you to go eat?” 

“You’re not the boss of me,” you teased as you tossed him the granola bar. He smirked and caught the bar. You took a seat, leaning against the wall as you ate your breakfast. He looked at you as if to ask what you you were doing. 

“ ‘M keepin’ you company,” you stated matter of factly. He didn’t argue with you and instead sat down next to you. You wanted to remind him that he was to be keeping watch, but decided against it, afraid it might push him away. The two of you ate in silence for a bit, too hungry to avert attention from the food. 

“Judith seems to like you,” he commented. 

“Well, I’d hope so, since I’m her nanny,” you joked. He chucked before responding. “You take such good care of her.” 

You smiled at him. “Least I could do since y’all took me in… even though you tried to rob me and threaten my life.” Despite the truth to your words, there was a joking tone to your voice. He looked a bit guilty. 

“We were just,” he took a moment to gather his words, “I had to-”

“’S fine, I get it,” you said, slightly relieving him of his guilt. “I’ve had to do some things I didn’t wanna to survive.” 

“Haven’t we all.” You were grateful that he didn’t try to pry too much into your life, but you wouldn’t have minded sharing had he asked anyway. You rested your head on his shoulder -much like you did to your friends before the dead started rising- and he let you stay there. 

“I better get back to Judith,” you said after a few minutes. 

“And I gotta change shifts.” The two of you parted ways, but not before he thanked you for the granola bar. 

You found Beth again. She was in a cell with Maggie who was feeding Judith. She handed you the baby and her bottle so you could take over feeding her. The sisters said their goodbyes before leaving the cell, leaving you and Judith behind. She was almost done with the bottle before you heard the faint sound of gunshots. You tensed up, clutching Judith close to you.The gunshots picked up, making you wonder if you should go and see what’s going on. You looked down at the baby dozing off in your arms. You couldn’t just leave her in here alone. The prison was virtually empty with nobody else to watch her. You chose to stay, even though the guilt of doing nothing ate away at you. 

 After what felt like forever, the shooting finally stopped. You breathed a sigh of relief. Loud footsteps rapidly approached before Shane appeared in the doorway. He was sweaty, out of breath, and clutching his side. 

“Came to check on you two, everything alright?” He asked, worriedly. 

“Yeah, she’s fine, everything’s fine,” you replied, eager to ask what it was that happened. 

“Are you alright?” Concern flashed in his eyes. 

You nodded. “What happened out there? Is everyone okay?” 

“It was the Governor, killed one of the prisoners and tried to take out everyone else too.” 

You looked away from his eyes and down to the hand clutching his side. Blood was starting to leak between his fingers. Your heart dropped. 

“Shane, did you get shot?” You asked sternly, hoping he wouldn’t lie. 

“Just a graze, I’ll be fine.” You put a sleeping Judith in her crib before approaching the man. 

“Lemme patch you up.” 

“It’s just a graze,” he insisted. 

You sighed and looked up at him which forced him to look at you. “I know you just brought me here to take care of Judith, but I wanna take care of you too.” He let out a sigh and finally relented. You smiled up at him before scurrying off to fetch some medical supplies. 

When you came back, he was sitting on the cot, still clutching his wound with a pained look on his face. When he heard you come in, he sat up straighter and put that stoic look back on his face. 

“You don’t have to act all tough for me,” you teased. You doused a towel with some rubbing alcohol before kneeling in front of him. He couldn’t look you in the eyes as he lifted his shirt to give you access to the wound. It seemed to have stop bleeding, so you gently cleaned the wound before putting a bandage on it. 

“See, really wasn’t that big a deal,” he said with a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Still had me worried, though.” You stood up and tidied the mess of medical supplies. 

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout me, I can handle it.” 

You knew he could, but the thought of losing him scared you. You leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. 

“Just don’t want Judith losin’ her daddy is all.” He sighed and looked up to the ceiling in thought. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“No problem.” 

“No, not just for this. For taking care of Judith and for taking care of me.” You sat beside him and slipped your hand through his. 

“Always.” 

not quite proofread, proofskimmed maybe. i found some free time, so i'm gonna try and finish writing as many requests as i can yaaay!!! anyway, thanks for reading !! <3

oh btw, i learned what a taglist is and now i have one! if you'd like to be in it, let me know!

Taglist

@fuckedbydaryl

[yourlocalstranger123]

Tignari & Cyno

Reader as kind of a sugar daddy/mommy [the atmosphere while typing this is so fcking awkward 🥲]

Warning:NSFW,

Apologies advanced: I'm sorry if you didn't want to use a strap, but right now, I'm not in the mood or have enough energy to write a separate one for F! reader and also F! Reader strap, it has fake cum as she has a button to release it.

This is the backup writing for you to enjoy since im going to take like more than a week to write the flirty villain [kinda?], Creator writing.

Characters: Tignari & Cyno.

Content/parts:

First: crack with sugar daddy/mommy reader. [Kinda?]

—NSFW—

(1.) Cyno's punishment [you're here!]

(2.) Cyno with tignari and care taker Reader. (Or nurse/doctor reader)

(3.) Tignari aphrodisiac mushroom

(4.) Tignari's heat.

(5.) Cyno & tignari x Eremite Reader

Note for content: cyno & tignari x Eremite reader. Ik, it sounds random, but the idea from it was: HAVE YOU SEEN THOSE EREMITES? THEY. ARE. H0T. 😳 YOU CANT SAY NO, THEY AREEEE. PLEASEE. I WOULD LITTERALLY GO ON MY KNEES FOR THEM—

[That what my friend told me to put. Honestly, I would do the same...]

— ○ —○ — ○ —○ — ○ —○ — ○ —○ — ○ —○ — ○ —

Tignari + Cyno

Cyno litterally makes 10x more jokes than usual around you. Even though it doesn't really make you laugh, you think it's enjoyable. While Tignari....not so much- Which he is glad at. Oh, his reaction is so cute and funny when you gave him limited edition cards. Except when he said that he'll pay for it even though it's a gift...

"This...is for me? W- wait! I'll pay you 1 million mora tor these!"

"Cyno. It's a gi—"

"2 million mora?"

"...." *friendly but firm holding of his shoulders*

"It's. a. gift."

"..."

"..."

"2 million, 500 thousand mora—?"

"Cyno, if you keep talking about giving me mora for a damn gift, I will literally go around Teyvat and even sell my f-cking soul to get more."

"Yes ma'am/sir-" *feeling shivers down his spine. Although....why does he feel hard down there—*

Dang. He made sure he'll never make you mad. Tignari is just mentally slapping himself on the forehead at this. You still give him the limited edition cards everytime it was released.

Tignari always thanked you for your kindness for playing supplies to do what he needs as a forest watcher. Although you still pay and give him stuff even though he has more than enough already....

"Ah, [name]. I already have more than enough. Thanks for offering though—"

"Accept. It."

Tignari with trembling hands as he accepts your forceful gift. Yeah, he ain't going to be on your bad or evil side. Hope to the archons that Cyno doesn't go too far.

....At least he can spoil himself with your gifts.

~`♡°•—~`♡°•—NSFW—~`♡°•—~`♡°•

(1.)

CYNO'S PUNISHMENT

"Hah....how many times have I told you, don't touch yourself?"

Cyno whined. He struggled trying to get free from the ropes and touch you. "M' sorryy!" and "Please!" Comes out of his mouth.

"If you keep whining with that mouth of yours, I'll gag it."

Cyno immediately shuts up when you say that as your hand tightens around his thigh. Letting out a whimper as a plea.

"First, you went home injured without even stopping to get a doctor or even at Tignari's. His house is way closer! And now you're breaking our rules? Touching yourself without permission. Now that's not what good boys do."

Cyno whined, wanting to beg for your mercy and forgiveness, but you didn't let him. He choked on a moan as he felt your knee rubbing against his crotch.

"Aren't you enjoying this too much? Maybe I shouldn't touch you for a whole week...."

Cyno cried a plea to keep touching him. He leaned onto your shoulder, sobbing in pleasure as it overwhelmed him.

Suddenly, Tignari came in. He paused as he saw the sight of Cyno tied up on your bed, and you pinning Cyno down on it. You turned around seeing tignari cover his drooling mouth as his ears slightly tilted downwards. His face is red as his ears twitched.

Tignari just stands there, watching the lewd scene of Cyno panting as he begs to have your touch. Tignari snapped out of his thoughts when you told him to come here. He kneeled beside you, gripping his pants in hopes you don't know. You rub his ears as he softly moans. Biting his lips to refrain the noise further but failing. His ears twitched when he saw Cyno already looked fucked out when you finally start stroking him as you finger him, kissing his prostate. You can feel his hole tightening and his cock twitching for attention, knowing that he'll cum.

"P- please? Wan- Na- cUuM!!"

Tignari tried helping him get over the edge, but you stopped him by tugging his tail, which maid him yelp as pre-cum sticks onto his pants. Cyno's eyes shot wide open as you stopped your movement, edging him. He squirmed as he clenched around nothing. He started sobbing, spreading his arms open and closing and opening his hands, wanting you to come over to him and touching him :(

He was laid down on the bed as Tignari got on top of him. Leaning in to kiss him. You let what Tignari wishes and desires to do with Cyno as you watch in amusement. Cyno pants in heavy blush, silently whining at Tignari to touch him already. Tignari easily gave in his pleading, taking off his pants and undergarments. Pumping both of their cocks.

Tignari's ears twitched as the fully tilted downwards. Cyno's legs started to tremble as he covered his mouth. They both rolled their eyes, saliva running down their chin as they both looked fucked out. Tignari finally fell on Cyno as his body gave up, supporting him.

Cyno flinched when he felt a cold medal going into his hole. He moaned into the sensation as he squirmed. It was a butt plug. You started fingering tignari as he whined but didn't stop you. Instead, he slowly tried thrusting back to make you go deeper as his head was thrown back when he felt your fingers abusing his prostate.

"Ngh— [name]...! Stop teasing me and put it in already– UgAhhH~!"

He felt his mind gone blank when you started pistoling his hole. He bit Cyno's shoulder to refrain his desperate moans, leaving a mark. Cyno soon felt pleasure overridden pain, whimpering in pleasure. Cyno watches everything drowsily with lust as he gets hard again. He kissed Tignari, making out with him.

"Mnm~ ah!! W- wait, slow down! I'm cuMinG!"

He came, ears twitching as Cyno grabs him and kisses him. The last string snapped when Tignari clenched around you, making you cum in him as he whined from being do full

F! Reader: You decided to finally give him his little reward [unlike Cyno, who broke the rule] pressing the button as Tignari drooled at the feeling of being so full

You put Tignari on the other side of the bed. Cyno starts to kneel on his knees, obediently waiting for you. He laid his head on your legs, eyes practically saying that he wants to have his turn to be ruined and fucked.

He teased you and tried to rile you up by showing the butt plug you put in him.

"Please....I've been good, haven't I?"

Pouting for your attention. You pretended to be thinking about it even though you'll give him a reward anyway.

I- I'll ride you! Pleasee? I just want you in me!!"

And here he is, riding you like it's the last time. He felt so full of you, touching the bulge that was caused by you, made him closer to the edge. You put your hands on his hips, helping him get to his climax as he cries a silent scream. He flopped onto your chest as he snores and slept soundly. You should probably wash them early in the morning, but for now, they will sleepily cuddle you.

[centrally-unplanned]

The Clarkesworld AI Spam issue is one of those stories that to me really highlights the limits of the tools that hype is obscuring. Clarkesworld is a well-established Sci-Fi publishing magazine that today had to suspend all of its submissions due to being overwhelmed by ChatGPT generated entries:

This inspired a lot of discourse around the idea of a ‘crisis of credibility’ on the internet, AI sweeping away the boundries of authenticity in a flood of forgeries. How can magazines even operate in this new environment, one might ask?

Which is weird because this environment isn’t new at all, as the editor, Neil Clarke, comments on in his blog post around the problem:

Since the early days of the pandemic, I’ve observed an increase in the number of spammy submissions to Clarkesworld. What I mean by that is that there’s an honest interest in being published, but not in having to do the actual work. Up until recently, these were almost entirely cases of  plagiarism, first by replacing the author’s name and then later by use of programs designed to “make it your own.”

The issue isn’t that spam exists, its the quantity:

This is undoubtably a gigantic spike, and 100% it is induced by ChatGPT.

But hold on - is ChatGPT actually *better* at this that previous spam tools? Niel doesn’t think so, even if he is worried about the future: 

I’m not going to detail how I know these stories are “AI” spam or outline any of the data I have collected from these submissions. There are some very obvious patterns and I have no intention of helping those people become less likely to be caught...

... What I can say is that the number of spam submissions resulting in bans has hit 38% this month. While rejecting and banning these submissions has been simple, it’s growing at a rate that will necessitate changes. To make matters worse, the technology is only going to get better, so detection will become more challenging.

And how expensive was the plagarism before to do anyway? It was copy-pasting text, automated word replacement programs, and done, that is trivial. Its a little harder than ChatGPT, sure, but you could make a thousand in a day no sweat, automated scripts randomizing names and jumbling nouns from a list. 

The success rate also seems to be zero! Neither plagarism nor ChatGPT generates any story worth a damn, these aren’t being accepted. Neil is quite confident he is catching 100% of them and I believe him on that, these tools cannot write good fiction of any length beyond a paragraph. 

So what is the ChatGPT’s advantage over previous, ‘dumber’ spam that justifies a 100-fold increase in spam usage? I am not seeing one, and I don’t think there is one besides marginally lower per-spam costs. Phrased another way, what was stopping someone from submitted 500 spam entries in one month in 2021? Nothing but interest in doing so.

Which is the rub of why this is happening - it isn’t because ChatGPT is good at this task, its because its the hype thing to do. Everyone is talking about it, everyone is trying it out, everyone is trying to find “delta” so they can ride the hype train. A bunch of people, some who may have even had axes to grind against Clarkesworld, have heard of this brand new fun tool and are flooding into the market to take advantage of it. But there might not be much to take advantage of; hype is fleeting, particularly in the face of no results as this effort is getting. As it fails, unless that axe really needs grinding above all else, spammers will move.

All of this to say that this story is, again, not a story about AI at all. AI is just the reason these already-bad parts of the system are being tested in the public eye.

[romanoffsbish]

A Prompt List

Feel free to pick and choose from the list for your own stories, as well as send in requests (view my masterlist for who I write for) with whatever prompts if you please, 🥰

Angst/Fluff/Smut prompts listed. (18+)

Bonus points if you take the assigned genre and flip it 🤔😏

———

Angst

“Are you serious?” / “I never wanted this!”

“This was never real, was it?” / “I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights…”

“You are vile…” / “I can’t believe I ever believed someone like you could love me.”

“Nothing good ever lasts.” / “Goodbye.”

“I love you.” / “It’s not enough this time.”

“Please, don’t leave me, we can fix this.” /“You left me first, I’m just finishing the job.”

“I love you Y/N.” / “Why do people only say that to me when they’ve wronged me? Am I not deserving of the guiltless love? Like the ones I see in fairytales, where they get swept away smiling, and not where I curl up to weep in my bed for another damn night.”

“I’m sorry.” / “For what exactly? Breaking my trust, and in turn my fragile heart? Or do you only mean that you got caught?”

“I can’t even look at you anymore.” / “Please…” / “This is the end for us.”

“I can’t live without you, I won’t survive.” / “Then I guess I’ll be back for your funeral.”

Fluff

“There’s nobody else I’d ever love like this.”

“Everything I do is for you—my beloved.”

*while stargazing* “If I could, I’d rearrange the stars for you, have them map out your face, because a beauty like yours should transcend the bounds of Earth my darling.”

“I can’t believe that the world had infinite chances to find me a soulmate, and I lucked out and hit the absolute jackpot with you.”

“Did you know that a kiss is worth a thousand words?” / “You should kiss me.”

“You’re the most gorgeous person here.” / “I’d never lie to you darling, god, I wish you could see you the way I do” / “Perfect.”

“Call them —, the worst they could do is say no to you, and trust me, they won’t…” / “They said yes!!!”

“I’ve loved you since the first time I ever laid my eyes on you.” / “Well damn, why’s it taken you so long to make a move then?”

“I can’t believe my cat/dog loves you more than it’s ever loved me.” / “Actually, on second thought it makes sense, you’re far too lovable to even question it; *pets name* you have good taste.”

“I will never tire of watching you sleeping next to me, you’re just so peaceful, and I get to celebrate that you’re all mine.”

Smut

“Careful what you wish for baby, because I’m nothing if not generous…”

“Where should I sit?” / “The couch works just fine, but if you prefer comfort, my face works far better my darling.”

“I’m not letting you go until you’ve either drenched the sheets, or passed out.”

“Fuck me like you mean it —, let everybody know I’m yours before I no longer am.”

“Aww, did my precious little dove think I’d just let that little stunt go?” / “I was hoping so.” / “You’re sadly mistaken toots, now prepare yourself for a long night full of passion, and if you’re lucky—pain.”

“Mommy isn’t very pleased with the outfit you chose to wear tonight, you made those fools think they stood a chance.” / “Maybe they did.” / *incredulous laughter* “Is that right baby? I go on one week long business trip and you just forget who you belong to? Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll remind you.”

“Stay still, or I’ll have you warming daddy’s cock all night long.” / “That’s a good girl.”

“I-I can’t take anymore, please.” / “You can take it, and you’ll do it graciously, one more complaint and I’ll edge you all month.”

“Kiss me, please.” / “Is that all you want baby, is for me to kiss you?” / “N-no, I also want you to fuck me senseless, but a kiss sounded far more romantic.”

“If you don’t fuck me, I’ll be doing it myself!” / “I’m coming!” / “No, I am!”

[someone-stole-all-my-fruit]

It was Always Him

Hello! This is my gift for @doomedhowell for the @phandomgiftexchange!

I really hope you like it <3 ! I haven't written fic in a long time, but I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get back into it, and after this I definitely plan on writing more. Probably longer-form stuff. I'm going to be honest posting this makes me so nervous, but I really did have so much fun participating in this!

-

Dan and Phil had just moved into their forever home. Their dream home. Everything was different now, but really, it was all the same. As they attended a neighborhood party and snuck away, they reminisced about their lives together, and if there was one thing Phil knew: It was always Dan.

Fluff with a bit of comedy. Just meant to be cute :)

Word Count: 2,406

-

As Phil grabbed the hamper and began preparing the laundry, a tiny smile crept onto his face. His eyes, less youthful than they had once been, crinkled as he grinned, a faint sigh leaving his lips. Suddenly, everything was different. Everything was different and yet everything was the same as it always was. To many, the word “always” would be an exaggeration, but not to Phil. Always began 12 years ago. Their always. Dan and Phil have lived together for pretty much the entire time they had known one another. There was a short period of time between when they met and when they got their first apartment that they lived apart, but in the grand scheme of things, what is a year and a half compared to a lifetime? Thank God for laundry, Phil thought. If Dan hadn’t come over nearly every day to do laundry when he was in Uni they may never have decided it would be easiest to move in together. To this day doing laundry makes Phil happy. That damn laundry.

Everything was different now. This wasn’t an apartment anymore, this was their house, their “phouse”, as the internet called it. The fact that the internet created a special name for their home blew Phil’s mind. Despite how strange and chaotic the internet can be, Phil owed so much to it. After all, without the internet, they never would have met. Phil whistled the tune under his breath. That damn song would be the death of him. Why do so many people care about what Dan and I do, anyway? Phil though. He isn’t famous; he isn’t an actor or a pop star. Neither is Dan, but at least Dan has talent.

Like a river on a stormy day, as it often happened, memories of Dan and Phil’s early years flooded Phil’s mind. Their first conversation over text all those years ago and how Dan tried to play it cool even though Phil knew all along Dan was a huge fan of his. The first time they met in person and how posh and confident Dan seemed. It intimidated Phil, even though he was older. Their first kiss and what it meant to Phil knowing Dan was not yet fully comfortable with his sexuality but still trusted Phil enough to be vulnerable with him. The first time they told each other they loved one another; something they have said thousands of times since the first. Things are different now.

Better. 

“Phil, we’re going to be late,” a voice shouted from the next room over. His voice. “Can’t you start the wash later?” 

“I know, I know,” Phil said. “I just wanted to start it so when we got back it would be ready to dry. Plus, I like doing the laundry. It makes me happy.”

“Laundry makes you happy?” Dan stepped through the door and shot Phil one of his signature sarcastic looks. “Look, Phil, that’s a little strange even for you.”

“Strange as it may be, it makes me think of you. Of us. Of our youth,” Phil got out his puppy dog eyes that seemed to make Dan melt every time. It worked.

“God, I know we’re old but saying “our youth” makes it sound like we’re ancient,” said Dan, cringing at the thought. “You, however, as old as we may be, are still just as adorable as you were the day that I met you. And you’ll continue to be adorable until the day you inevitably die. Which better be after me by the way,” Dan winked, chucking slightly. “Now, slow poke, finish up with the wash so we can get going. We better not be late. Otherwise they might not invite us back.”

Dan was right of course. Phil quickly threw the was in and scurried to the door. He grabbed Dan’s hand and held it tightly as they began to make their way over to the neighbors.

“Shit, the desert!” Shouted Dan. He let go of Phil’s hand and ran back inside. In a moment he was back at Phil’s side, cookie tray in hand. “Got them!”

Phil grabbed Dan’s hand once more and planted a cheeky kiss on his lips. “You are adorable.”

Failing at holding back a smile, Dan stuck his tongue out at Phil and said “I don’t want to be adorable. I want to be dark and mysterious.”

“You’re mysteriously adorable?” Phil raised an eyebrow as he said this.

Dan cackled. “You, Philip Michael Lester, are just a mystery.”

Mansion wasn’t a big enough word for the type of house they were standing in. Phil thought that he and Dan were proud of their new home but it was nothing in comparison to this absolute art piece of a house. It had pillars for God’s sake. Pillars! Vibrant green foliage decorated the foyer. The main party was in the living room, which had couches that looked like they belonged in a house from the regency era adorned with tasteful pillows that looked expensive and impossible to wash. A fireplace was lit; the true centerpiece of the room. A small table with snacks and drinks was set up next to the bar, which, by the way, was fully staffed. Phil felt out of place and wondered if Dan felt the same. Nevertheless, he took their cookies and set them on the table with the rest of the finger foods.

“What the fuck?” Dan had a horrified look on his face. “Phil what the fuck kind of neighbors do we have? We don’t belong in a place like this! For fucks sake I’m wearing a t-shirt!”

Luckily for Dan, most of the other guests were wearing T-shirts as well. Despite the fancy home, their neighbors were nice. Just nice. Exactly the type of people you would expect to live in a house with pillars. Phil could tell they had grown up rich. They weren’t like Dan and Phil who made their money themselves. It didn’t make much of a difference in Phil’s mind, it was just obvious to him. The whole neighborhood was invited to this party, so at least Dan and Phil were able to fade into the background and keep mostly to themselves. Making pleasantries was one thing, but making friends was another, harder thing. Real friends, that is.

At first, he and Dan were worried about what their neighbors would think about the two of them. Should they be truthful? Should they tell them they are a couple? Or should they not say anything at all? In the end, they decided to keep things hush-hush, at least for now. The truth would obviously come out eventually, but Phil valued his privacy and he knew Dan did as well.

One of their neighbors seemed alright. Dan, Phil, and the neighbor stood by the snack table and chatted for a while. He was a big drinker and insisted that they try his specialty cocktail. Dan and Phil obliged, interested in the concoction and glad to have connected with somebody. The cocktail was strong. Phil couldn’t tell you what was in it for the life of him. It tasted decent enough. After chatting with him for a few minutes, the neighbor disappeared. Phil couldn’t tell you his name if he tried. Was it Gary? Terry? Something along those lines. Hopefully Dan remembered.

After 3 hours of small talk and chatting with Gerald, social battery drainage did not even begin to cover what Phil was experiencing. It was late. He had had a couple more drinks after the ones Toby had already given him and he was starting to feel them. Drinking wasn’t something Phil did often, so whenever he did they hit him hard and fast. It wasn’t a feelling he minded, but he needed a bit of air. He walked out of the living room and into the foyer. To his right was the kitchen, and he could see a door leading outside through there. He eagerly walked that way and pushed open the door.

His jaw dropped. Who are these people? He lived in the wrong neighborhood.succulent flowers cascaded over arches in the neighbor’s garden. Pinks, purples, yellows, and every color in-between flooded Phil’s eyesight. The yard in front of him was absolutely beautiful. Like stars, fairy lights draped between pillars and tangled around lamp posts tastefully scattered about. The far side of the garden had some guy playing the violin next to a small outdoor bar. Also fully staffed. Phil wasn’t sure what song the violinist was playing, but it was nice, muffled and fading into the background due to the dense foliage around him. Phil’s lungs filled with air. Deep breaths felt nice. Perhaps all the greenery around him enhanced the oxygen in the air? Phil wondered.

The lights, flowers, and pillars were nice but the centerpiece of the garden really stole the show. There was a small hedge maze. Rich people things, Phil thought. In the center of the maze peeking over the tops of the bushes was what appeared to be a water fountain. Phil was drawn to it. Being the curious man that he is, Into the maze he went. Tiny lanterns lit the way. They were spread out evenly along the top edge of the maze. Within a minute of walking, Phil made it to the center. After completing it, Phil decided it was less of a maze and more of an intricate path.

The sound of the water trickling into the fountain was calming. It was loud enough to completely drown out the already muffled violinist. Phil sniffed a few times, intrigued. There must have been essential oils infused in the water. Lavender? Rose? Phil wasn’t sure, but it was nice. He smiled, letting himself surrender to the calmness. Until, that is, he was rudely broken out of his peaceful trance.

“Aghhh!” Phil screamed, hand flying to his chest. Instinctively he ducked down, nearly falling on his face. The hand that had covered his eyes was now under his chest, holding him up and preventing him from hitting the floor. Phil began to laugh, realizing what was happening. “Daniel!”

Dan’s cackle of a laugh danced through the air like Phil’s favorite song. “Got you, Phil.”

“Got me? I think I’m the one who’s got you!” Before Dan knew what was happening Phil spun around quickly and slammed Dan into the grass, straddling him. Both hands held Dan’s wrists above his head and pinned him to the ground. A sheepish look crossed Dan’s face and Phil couldn’t help but mirror his grin. “Yeah, I’ve definitely got you. In fact, I reckon I’ve had you for about 12 years now. All to myself.”

With the gentlest of motions, Phil bent down and brushed his lips against Dan’s, still holding him hostage on the floor. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Phil,” Dan said, prying Phil off of him. Now sat next to each other on the floor, Dan placed his head on Phil’s shoulder. The sounds of the fountain drowned out every sound except for the sound of each other’s breathing. They sat there, enjoying the silence. The peace that only they were able to bring one another. “...Phil?” Dan cocked his head slightly, looking up at Phil. To the surprise and slight horror of Phil, there were tears in Dan’s eyes. How many of Julian’s cocktails did he have?

“Did you ever think we would get this far? When we first met, did you ever really think that this was going to go anywhere?”

Phil smiled, wiping away the few tiny tears that had begun to roll down Dan’s cheeks. “None of that crying, you sap,” Phil said, kissing the top of Dan’s head. “And to answer your question, oh God, I hoped it would. I hoped we would. You have no idea how cute you were back then, do you?” Phil asked. “You’re still cute, of course. Wouldn’t want to cause any confusion there.”

“Oh trust me, I definitely know I’m cute,” said Dan, smiling. His tears had already mostly dried up. He was definitely slightly intoxicated. “But do say more.”

“All that pining,” said Phil. “You were such a FLIRT back then. You still are, but back then you were on another level. Obviously I had to reach out to the cutest emo boy commenting on my videos. I never thought anything would come of it until I met you for the first time. We hit it off right away. I didn’t know if it was going to be a friendship, a romance, a fling, or something else. But from that first day I met you, I knew you were something special to me, Dan. It was always you.”

Phil took two fingers and gently tilted Dan’s face upwards. He kissed him, firmly enough to surprise Dan a bit. Dan leaned into it matching Phil’s energy. They stayed that way, enjoying each other, for a few minutes. These moments of tender love were what made everything worth it at the end of the day, at least for Phil. All of the harassment from certain bad people on the internet, all of the hiding, all of the bad things they have had to go through over the years was all worth it just to be able to kiss Dan and call him his own. The love that Phil felt for Dan could not be matched. Dan was his best friend, his lover, and his soulmate. And Phil would sneak away from any party if it meant getting moments like this with him. 

Phil broke their kiss and pulled Dan into a deep hug, burying his face into Dan’s hair. “I love you so fucking much Daniel Howell. You’re never allowed to leave me.”

Phil felt Dan smile into his shoulder. “Philip Michael Lester, you might be the only person in the world capable of convincing me that fate is real.”

You might not believe in fate but I know the truth. It was always you.”

“And it always will be me,” said Dan, closing his eyes, content in Phil’s arms.

“Companions through life?” asked Phil, breaking the hug to face Dan and look into his eyes. This was serious business. He extended out his pinky, never breaking eye contact.

“Actual soulmates,” said Dan, grabbing Phil’s pinky with his and shaking. The sacred vow of the pinky promise.

Phil smiled.

It was always him.