#you didn't think you were doing this without me did you? .aesthetic

[nxtahxro]

❝ go ahead , tell me you'll leave again . you'll just come back running , holding your scarred heart in hand . it's all the same and I'll take you for who you are , if you take me for everything .

( @sovrumana )

[cy-cyborg]

I'm begging dragonage fans to do a tiny bit of research about arm amputees before loudly shouting their opinions on the inquisitor returning in the next game Please lol.

Apparently, it was confirmed that the inquisitor, your chatacter from the last game (who looses their arm in the final cutscene of the DLC), will return in Veilguard as a customisable character, similar to Hawke, and they will play an active roll in the story. This has caused a lot of people to start speculating on how they'll handle the inquisitor's missing hand, with most people agreeing they'll have to have a prosthetic to be an active part of the story. Which, while I do think this is the rought bioware will take, isn't true, and a part of me really hopes they leave the inquisitor without a prosthetic arm like in the end of Tresspasser

Partially because we already have a companion with a prosthetic (neve) and it would be nice to see some diversity in how amputation is depicted in such a mainstream game, but also because you dont need a prosthetic to fight as any of the main 3 classes from inquisition.

Mage:

mages just need a staff, the game shows them as 2 handed weapons but it's totally beleiveable that it would be usable 1-handed (Neve also uses a dagger-like weapon in the trailer, you can make a "staff" in inquisition that functions more like an energy sword, and the Mage in the chargers uses a staff resembling a bow, so I think it's more that they just need a focus, the shape doesn't matter as much). A knight enchanter may struggle more 1 handed, but I wouldn't write it off as an option with some modifications made to their main staff.

Warrior:

the easiest to justify, because there are several cases of arm amputees fighting with a sword and sheild in history, and while many did have prosthetics, most weren't functional (meaning they were mainly for aesthetic purposes and didn't actually aid the fighter in any way. There were exceptions, like Götz of the iron hand, who's prosthetic was functional, but most were not). The inquisitor looses their arm just above the wrist*, so they still have most of their forearm. Most sheilds strap to the forearm, so it wouldn't take much adjustment to make that work, and you can use the other hand for the weapon. Obviously, two-handed weapons will probably be off the table, though, lol.

*edit to say, as several people pointed out, i got that wrong, my bad 😅. The inquisitors arm is actually amputated through the elbow, the screenshots i was looking at just weren't very clear and it has been a while since i got to trespasser lol. It would still entirely possible to strap a shield to the upper arm though, with some pretty minor adjustments to the existing straps on standard (as in, those used by non-disabled warriors) tall shields, so the point still stands.

Rogue

this is the one people tend to be the loudest about and the one I understand the most. Obviously duel-weilding daggers won't work (unless you give them something like the hidden blades in assassin's creed on their stump side, I guess) but using a single dagger still would, and is a perfectly reasonable approach, given that's how most irl people used daggers. Archery, though, absolutely can work without a prosthetic, despite what people think. Dragonage has crossbows, not something like Bianca (rip) but a small, single-handed crossbow is an option. Even ignoring that though, amputee archery is a thing irl, and not every arm amputee uses prosthetics for it. The bows are modified to be held in one hand and drawn with the mouth using a kind of pully-system built into the bow that I could very easily see being modified into some dwarven-style contraption in game (some double arm amputees use their feet to draw regular bows, but I don't think that would be pheasable in combat).

Like I said, I think bioware will probably go with a prosthetic, but i hope that they don't. Or at the very least, show them with it sometimes and without it other times (the same goes for Neve, no one wears their prosthetic 24/7, I'd love to see them both take them off around the home base, even just occasionally). A lot of arm amputees in particular prefer to go without one, and arm prosthetics in media are some of the worst offenders of the "perfect prosthetic"/"miracle cure prosthetic" tropes. It doesn't count as "diversity" or disability representation if it doesn't actually change anything other than the look of the chatacter, and im really, really desperate for some actually decent amputee representation in games.

[prael]

An Oral Agreement

QWER Magenta x male reader

Masterlist word count: 3,008 Kofi(donations/commissions)

She's equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

Magenta.

No last name. Or maybe that is her last name. Either way, that's all it said on the rental agreement and her bedroom door when you first moved in: Magenta. The letters were all lowercase like she was too cool for proper grammar. You know Magenta, in the Biblical sense (and it didn’t take long).

She's always in her room streaming or recording or...doing whatever it is social media influencers do when they aren't online. But she likes candles, fried rice and catcore aesthetics. She thinks pumpkin spice season starts September 1st and she loves reality TV. Not exactly the makings of a deep and spiritual connection.

Now, living with Magenta, well, it has its ups and downs.

There are some things that never get done around here without you doing them; she rarely cooks, which wouldn't bother you so much if she at least did dishes once in a while. It doesn't help that she takes long hot showers. In a house with only one bathroom, this can really put a cramp in your morning routine.

Magenta doesn't clean the place very often either. At first, you just let it go because everybody has their own ways of doing things, right? But after a few weeks of living together, you realised that she's just...not going to do it. Like ever. So then there's nothing for it but to either live in a constant state of messiness or bite the bullet yourself.

Sometimes you feel like you're not living with a roommate so much as providing lodging for some kind of freeloading spirit that passes through periodically.

When you first moved in, you were worried about what your roommate might think of you: would they be weirded out by your habits? Would they judge your taste in decorations? Would you get along? Would you have enough space for both of you?

Those fears melted away pretty quickly once you met her. You could tell from the moment she opened the door that day (and didn't even look up from her phone) that she didn’t care.

You soon learned that Magenta is messy but friendly. She stays up all night and sleeps during the day. She's everywhere online: Instagrammer, Tiktokker (is that what they call it?), live streamer or these days she’s even on the radio and TV. She doing something for one of those things right now, with her bedroom door closed and music playing faintly behind it.

You're standing in the kitchen, staring down her latest infringement. Now, these empty take-out boxes were here this morning when you left. They were also here last night, and yesterday afternoon, and...you get where this is going.

"Hey, you awake in there?!" you shout towards her bedroom but get no response.

With a sigh, you walk over to her door and knock. Twice. Then again, louder when you still get no response. Finally, you resort to pounding on it repeatedly until it suddenly swings open to reveal your roommate shouting, "What!?" You step back, slightly taken aback by how loudly she said that single word. Her eyes soften instantly, though when they land on you.

She looks good. Not even just in a 'good for someone who hasn't slept yet today' kind of way. Just straight-up hot. Magenta wears a faded pink crop top emblazoned with an anime character and little cut-off cotton shorts covered in cookie prints. The low waistband of the shorts hangs off her hips, exposing the start of a light purple thong that cuts diagonally across her hip bones.

"I think our apartment might get condemned if you don't clean sometime soon."

Your roommate leans against the door frame. She pushes some dark brown hair behind her ear as she says, "Can't you do it for me? Just this once?"

"Just this once?" you repeat, crossing your arms. Your lips curl into a smile as you ask back to her, "Can't you do it just this once?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm always reminding you to clean, and you never do it. So guess who does it? It's not the magical cleaning fairy—it's me."

Her eyes roll skyward so forcefully you imagine you can hear them squeaking in their sockets.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" she says. "This seems really petty."

"It's not petty," you protest. "I have stuff to do and I shouldn't have to keep picking up after my adult roommate." You say the word 'adult' laden with implications. She gets your meaning immediately. Her lips twist.

"oh, I get it," she says with a smirk. "I guess it's been a while since I gave you a little thank you. Well, I need to get this video finished, so could you maybe clean it up and come back here after?"

So there's the perks. Two of them actually, as she pulls up her pink crop top and flashes you what's beneath. A pair of purple lace bra cups strain to contain your roommate's ample endowment. Pale skin pours out from beneath them, flesh squeezing together into a deep cleavage that entices you closer even as you shake your head.

"You can't keep pulling tricks like this, Magenta," you say, trying desperately to hold onto your train of thought while also enjoying the view. It helps that you know those breasts intimately. Hell, you've worshipped those breasts. They've spilt around your hands, smothered your face and laid upon your thighs. You know what the soft warmth inside each cup feels like. And, God, they feel really fucking good.

"I really appreciate your help and everything," she says, her bottom lip suddenly pushing out into a cute pout that goes well beyond suggestive. "And I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate it..."

Your resolve lasts right up until Magenta runs a finger down one of her tits to tease along the edge of the lacy purple material. That's when you give up. There's no point in fighting anymore—she has won this battle (just like all others).

"Just go finish your work already," you finally say, letting out a sigh.

Magenta smiles and giggles, lowering her shirt. "Thanks. Love ya!"

With a wink, she slips back into her room. You stand alone for several seconds before shaking your head. Back to cleaning, then.

-

It's not exactly easy to focus on sorting the recycling into the correct bins when your roommate has just reminded you how nice her tits are. They're on your mind a lot, to be honest. More than they should be probably. Sometimes they're on your cock, though not as often as they should be. Probably.

You're counting your blessings that none of the neighbours are doing late-night recycling because then you'd have to explain why your face is red and your pants are bulging.

That doesn't stop the occasional glance towards your neighbour's house, where Mrs Kim likes to smoke on her front porch some nights. You think she smokes more than she should, but that's really none of your business. Her watching you from across the street, however, is very much your business, so you peek over your shoulder once in a while to check if she's spying. Again. Or still. Whatever.

One last box. The light outside is fading rapidly, but you can just barely make out that it comes from...the Greek place you love?

Oh. Oh no. Did she eat gyros and not bring you any? Damn, that girl knows how to be cruel!

When the recycling is finally squared away you dust off your hands. It's a symbolic gesture since all you've done is shove cardboard and glass into the right bins, but it makes you feel accomplished nonetheless.

Back in the apartment and lock the door behind you.

"There you are. Where have you been?"

"The bins, have you ever seen them before?" You mock while still fiddling with the lock chain.

"That was quick," comes her response. Your eyes follow the sound of her voice. Magenta is lying upside-down on the couch. She swings her feet lazily in the air while looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair cascades nearly to the floor. Those short shorts mean you can see most of her long legs. Then there's the curve of her hip, the crease of her thigh... "Get over here."

It's a rare occasion that Magenta voluntarily puts her phone down, yet she does just that as you walk over. The closer you get, the more enticing her position becomes: laying across the couch, head tipped backwards off the cushions to watch you approach her.

"So," she says. Her fingertips brush over the exposed skin of her belly. The fingers trace lines up and across her abdomen, moving between the edge of her shorts and her top. The motion catches your eye—and she knows it. "I owe you, don't I?" Her eyelids flutter innocently. Or rather, far less than innocently.

"For today? Yeah. Definitely." You clear your throat and try again, "For quite a few days, actually."

"Quite a few," she echoes in agreement. Her hand continues to crawl upward until it reaches the peak of her breasts rising beneath her faded pink crop top. The movement presses the supple skin together in a way that has you standing right in front of her before you even realize you've walked over.

She pushes them hard together before letting them settle back to normal. Gravity spreads them apart, flesh pouring across her chest from the tightly gathered fabric keeping them barely contained. She reaches out over her head, to you, and grabs you by the belt buckle. Pulls you forward until you are stood over her. Even though she's upside down, she makes such effortless work of unbuckling the leather strap that you barely notice. One second it's on; the next it's flapping loose.

It takes only two sharp tugs to force your pants and boxers down past your knees. Magenta doesn't waste any time reaching out to touch your cock, gently running her hands over it until she can wrap her entire hand around the warm shaft and pull you until you fall to your knees. Her head hangs right in front your your length, and you see the teasing sparkle in her eye even upside down.

Her hot breath hits the skin of your bare cock. Lips press a series of soft, wet kisses down from your tip towards your balls. Then back up again, trailing even more tiny pecks that leave your skin tingling. You let your cock nudge against her cheek, feeling it slide along the smooth skin.

With both hands wrapped around your cock, Magenta holds your tip right in front of her mouth. Her tongue sticks out from between her lips, slowly, methodically lapping circles around the crown of your cock.

"Oh, God," you mutter, and you need to hold onto something, anything. First, it's the couch, then it's her tits.

Your hand lands heavily atop the nearest swell of flesh and squeezes tight, pushing it further out of her crop top. She hums approvingly at the groping and wraps her lips around your cockhead. Suckles sweetly. Slurps noisily until spit pools at the corner of her stretched lips.

She lets gravity help guide your cock into her waiting mouth. The further you slip inside, the more she relaxes her jaw to accept you. But then she reaches up and pulls on your hips. You glide up against her grateful tongue. Until her nose meets your stomach. She gags. It's so fucking lewd.

The whole thing makes you squeeze her chest harder. So big in your palm and yet somehow always bigger than you remember. You forget sometimes just how incredible these tits are. When they bounce in a video she's recorded, you remember—but never quite how heavy they are when you hold them; the way they give to your grasp in exactly the right amount; or the way her nipple puckers just slightly as it stiffens beneath your kneading grip.

"You're so sexy like this," you say.

The compliment elicits an appreciative groan from Magenta. Her head moves with your hips now, bobbing to meet each thrust, spit dripping down her cheeks. The messiness of the sloppy blowjob matches her other personality traits frighteningly well.

With her head pinned and her arms on you, you're free to pull up her shirt and expose her. The dirty minx has taken off her bra, so the expanse of her milky skin greets you. You cup them in each palm, feeling the heft of them, squeezing them greedily. They push back, moulding into the shape of your desire, and she moans, a low guttural note vibrating right through your length.

Her body writhes beneath your attention. Her thighs spread outwards, feet rolling at the ankle in time with each gently guided thrust into her throat. Fingers squeeze you, scratching lightly at the skin above your ass to encourage you deeper inside her hungry maw. Deeper into her throat until she chokes—

You let up, panting, admiring the sight of her stretched out for your viewing pleasure. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you from her upside-down position. The intensity in them draws you in again.

"Oh shit," you groan as you drive into her, plunging your cock balls deep until her purple-painted nails dig into the small of your back. You pump faster, lost in the warm embrace of her greedy sucking.

Magenta squirms beneath you, whining and groaning and bucking, begging you for more. Her cunt must be throbbing with anticipation. Poor thing wants your cum. You can tell.

You want her tits.

She gasps when you fully withdraw from her mouth. Her face is a fucking mess of saliva and smudged makeup. Before she can question you, you reposition yourself in front of her, straddling her beautiful face as you lower your rigid length between her breasts.

She's quick to pick up what you're putting down. With both hands pressing the creamy flesh of her boobs inward, she creates a tunnel for you to slide your dick into.

It feels as good as it looks. Soft pressure envelops your slick length, wrapping around the sensitive skin and creating a delightful sleeve for you to hump into. You can't get enough.

As soon as you hit a good pace, fucking your roommate's chest hard and fast, she starts giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"It tickles." Her laugh is breathy but not as loud as it usually is. "Keep going."

So you do. Thrust after thrust you plunge deeper, drawing more and more of yourself into the valley between her perfect tits. The more you use her, the further she parts her legs that run up the back of the sofa. Soft thighs splayed for nothing but display. Then, just as you start to admire them, she clenches them together. Your eyes trace down the pale skin until they arrive at her crotch where the bottoms of her cookie-patterned shorts have ridden up against her wet slit. She's gyrating her hips in all sorts of directions and rubbing herself against the material in some attempt to satiate her growing needs.

The soft flesh of her midriff jiggles between the thrusting into her tits and the twisting of her hips below. You can't stop staring. Fuck. How does this girl have every single curve?

At first, you try holding back—you want this to last longer. But after a few seconds, you realize you can't fight this feeling. Not when you've got such a good view. And certainly not with her nipples so hard under the press of your thumbs. She arches up when you pinch them, and you know you're done for.

And then, as if she can feel it by the way you're thrusting, she begins to coo and beg under you. She knows she's getting you close, and she wants it. Bad.

"Cum on me," she coaxes sweetly, the words barely audible over the slapping sounds. "I've been so bad, baby. You deserve to paint my body."

That's all it takes. That final little plea. Your eyes roll back, your hips snap forward and your cock explodes. Thick ropes over her body, the first reaching her thighs before you adjust your aim and finish across the plane of her belly. Soft curves take your load while she encourages you through soft, little pleasured mewls. You may have got some on her shorts, but you paint her stomach white before pulling up and jerking the final drops onto her chest.

"Mmmm, messy boy," Magenta laughs breathlessly as your cum drips down her curves. She lays there beneath you, her smile wide and wickedly innocent, one hand slowly running circles over the sticky mess on her tummy, smearing it across her skin.

After a few seconds of panting and trying to gather yourself, you climb off of her and sit back against the couch. She turns so her head rests in your lap, facing your spent and dripping length. Magenta teases you still by using her own fingertip to collect your seed and place it across her lips, then licking them clean while making sure you're watching. And fuck are you ever.

"So, about my room," she purrs, eyes twinkling mischievously up at you.

"What about it?"

"Well... It needs cleaning, and I was thinking—"

"No," you feign protest, knowing you've already agreed. "Just clean it yourself." Her negotiation will come next. You can see it on her lips. "I'm not doing it."

Magenta leans up and whispers, "But you might change your mind if you find out what's waiting for you beneath my shorts."

That damn purple thong, still visible at her waistband, calls you toward her like a beacon. "What's beneath your shorts?"

Her laugh is playful. A little shrug as her fingers toy at the hem of the garment in question. "Agree to clean my room and you’ll find out."

[witchesverse]

life & death

pairing: agathario x reader

summary/request: the oldest deities, life and death, fall in love with a human but everything falls apart when her child dies. centuries later, you meet your past lovers on the witches' road.

content: angst without a happy ending, mention of death, crying, agatha being angry and hurt.

masterlist

You have been around since the start of life and since then, you have only managed to fall in love with two witches.

One of the witches was your complete opposite and not in a personality or aesthetic way, but in a way that she took life whilst you gave life. She was Death and you were Life. You would think that Death and Life would not be able to stand each other, but you craved each other.

For a very, very long time, she and you were each other's only lovers. Until you met Agatha Harkness. It was unbelievable that two of the oldest deities fell in love with a human, but it had happened.

Alas, it fell apart.

You had breathed life into the child growing in Agatha's stomach and all was good. His heartbeat was strong and you could feel his life churning through his body. Then, you felt nothing.

For the first time in existence, Life had fought Death.

It was wrong. It went against the natural order of life and death. But you could not bear to watch Death take away one of your most precious creations.

So, the boy lived for six years.

When Death came back for a second time, you couldn't fight her. It broke both of your hearts to watch Agatha cry and beg.

But even love cannot stop the natural order.

Once he was taken by Death, your relationship with the witches' was killed.

There was deep hatred in Agatha's heart for Life and Death. She hated how you did not keep the life in him and she hated how Death took the life. After that, everyone went their separate ways. The only connection you had with Death was feeling her take the life from your creations.

But centuries later, you met your lovers on The Witches' Road.

A grin was plastered across Rio's face as Agatha clawed at her and screamed in anguish.

"I hate you!" Agatha practically growled.

Rio turned to you with a dramatic surprised look on her face. "Do you hear that, my love? Agatha hates me! That's news I haven't heard before."

You stared at her, unsure of how to reply. Rio had always been the more sarcastic and cruel one, but her sarcasm seemed too cruel.

Agatha grunted, turned away and walked hastily down the Road.

Her coven glanced between the three of you with a look of confusion on their face.

You sighed. This was going to be horrible.

And so it was.

Rio continued to make comments towards Agatha, which only angered her. There were a few times you thought Agatha was going to slap her across the face.

You hadn't said much. Being Life, you preferred to watch people interact. You have done your job by breathing life into them, and now you can watch them use that life to their own liking.

It was as you all sat around a campfire you found yourself talking.

"I have a scar." Rio abruptly spoke.

Agatha laughed. "No, you don't."

Yes, I do." She insisted, glancing over at you and locked eyes. You shifted awkwardly under her gaze.

"A long time ago, Y/n and I had to do something we really didn't want to do, but it was my job and I had to do it."

Agatha stiffened.

"And in the process, we deeply hurt someone who we both love." You continued as you understood who she was talking about.

"And she is my scar," Rio concluded.

You wanted to say more, but Agatha stood and muttered something about needing fresh air. Naturally, Rio and you followed her.

Agatha stood in the middle of a deeper part of the forest. Now, that you were further away from the coven, you could feel how strong her life was and that made you smile.

You brushed your hand against Agatha's arm but she pulled away. "Don't."

"Agatha, you know we couldn't control it."

Wrong words. There were unshed tears in Agatha's eyes and her brow furrowed. You watched as pure anger filled her eyes before sadness washed over.

"Couldn't control it?" Her voice wavered with emotion. "You are Life and she is Death. What the hell do you mean you couldn't control it?"

She dug her finger accusingly into your chest.

Rio grabbed her finger and stepped into her personal space. Agatha tried to pull away but Rio kept a tight grip on her.

"I understand you are angry, but-"

"Angry? Are you fucking serious, right now?" Agatha made a noise of disbelief. "I feel furious, hurt, abandoned, heartbroken, and lost. You both took my boy away from me and expect me to just be angry? You are unbelievable."

You swallowed roughly. You had imagined this exact situation millions of times in your head, but now that it was actually happening, you didn't know how to react.

"Agatha, I loved Nicky dearly and taking his soul was the last thing I wanted to do. I gave you something that has never been given in all existence because I love you and him." Rio spoke calmly and sincerely, completely different from how she spoke sarcastically earlier.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't have taken his life away." Her eyes flicked over to you. "And if you really loved me, you would've kept feeding him life."

"You're both monsters."

Those words stung. You bit your lip and held back tears from forming in your eyes. You didn't want to cry, not in front of them.

Being Life, you weren't used to being called cruel names. People praised and worshipped you. But being called such a cruel name by a person you loved broke your heart.

Agatha scoffed at the silence and walked back to the coven, leaving Rio and you alone.

Rio didn't seem as bothered by Agatha's words. Being Death, she was constantly called cruel names, therefore, she was used to it.

"It's okay to cry."

"I'm not going to cry." Your voice broke with emotion as you said that.

Rio sighed, pulling you into her embrace. You buried your face in the crook of her neck and you cried softly.

"Why can't she understand that we couldn't stop it?"

"Nobody will ever understand it. Humans think life and death are simple but don't realise how complicated it is."

Rio kissed your neck before pulling your face out of her neck and cupping it lovingly. She wiped your tears away with her thumb and sadly smiled.

It broke her heart that you were upset.

"I miss her." You sniffled. "I miss us."

Rio's brows furrowed and she wiped her own tears away. "I know."

You wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her softly. Your heart fluttered and you relaxed in her hold. Kissing Rio was one of the most magical feelings.

When you broke apart, you rested your forehead against hers.

"Do you think she will ever forgive us?"

"No, I don't," Rio answered honestly.

You sniffled. Her answer broke you but it was the truth.

No matter what, Agatha would never forgive you for what you did. You will always be considered a monster to her.

[syluslnd]

Request~

Ok so I remember a while back reading a post about slyus with a bimbo/ hyper fem reader and it was so cute (I can't remember who did it tho 😔 ) and as someone who has that aesthetic and can be a bit um clumsy I wanted to ask if u could something like that.

sylus with a hyper fem gf

────୨ৎ────

(i hope i did it justice i know what you’re asking for but im the complete opposite so it was super hard for me to get creative with the scenarios im sorry bae so i made a bunch of small scenarios i hope u like it kisses <3)

when you regret your shoe option

You're wobbling slightly as you step out of the car, your heels clicking on the pavement.Sylus, as usual is there to offer his hand his expression half-amused half-concerned.

"kitten take it slow" he says, eyeing the narrow sidewalk ahead. "Don't need you toppling over."

You roll your eyes playfully. "I got this sy,i can handle a little sidewalk !”

But after two careful steps you start to feel the instability of the gravel beneath your heels and Sylus instantly closes the distance between you his hand firm at the small of your back.

"You're going to break your ankle" he says seriously, though there's a teasing smile playing at his lips. "Maybe we should invest in some flats, huh?"

You pout. "Flats aren't cute and I like how tall I am next to you with these."

He chuckles, eyes softening. "You're cute enough without them, trust me. But l'd rather you not fall on your face kitten."

crop top issues

The air conditioning in the coffee shop is blasting and you're sitting there arms wrapped tightly around yourself shivering slightly in your crop top. Sylus glances over from his coffee shaking his head.

"You cold, sweetie?" he asks with a smirk, knowing the answer already.

"A little.." you admit through chattering teeth.

"I told you to bring a jacket." He leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying this moment.

"I didn't think it would be this cold inside! and besides”you tug at the hem of your crop top "I wanted to look cute."

"You do look cute kitten” he says, his tone softening. "But you're freezing. Here." He shrugs off his hoodie and tosses it over to you.

You snuggle into it immediately, your nose peeking out of the oversized hood. Sylus chuckles, reaching across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Better?"

You nod, feeling warm-both from the hoodie and the gesture. "I guess you were right this time."

"I'm always right sweetie " he teases, raising an eyebrow.

hair frustration

You're standing in front of the mirror, trying to curl your hair for what feels like the hundredth time. Every curl seems to flop or frizz and with each failed attempt, your frustration builds. Eventually, you throw the curling iron down with a dramatic sigh and slump onto the bed, tears forming in your eyes.

Sylus walks into the room, looking confused but concerned. "kitten what's wrong?"

"My hair!" you cry, waving your hand at the mirror. "It won't curl right and it looks awful!"

Sylus steps closer, eyeing your hair as if trying to understand what the problem is. "It looks fine to me sweetie"

"Fine isn't good enough!" You huff, the tears starting to spill. "I wanted it to look perfect and now it's ruined!"

He chuckles softly, sitting beside you on the bed. "You're crying over your hair?"

You nod, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "I know it's dumb but it's just so frustrating!"

Without saying a word, Sylus gently runs his fingers through your hair, smoothing it out.

"It's not dumb sweetie" he says quietly. "But you're adorable when you get all worked up like this."

You glance at him, pouting. "You're not taking this seriously."

"I am, I swear" he says, holding up his hands in surrender, though there's a playful glint in his eyes. "I just think you look cute no matter how your hair turns out."

You sniffle. "Really?"

"Really." He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "and if you want, I'll help you figure it out. But I promise, you look perfect already kitten."

The spider emergency

You spot the spider from across the room a small, barely visible dot moving along the wall. But that's all it takes. You let out a gasp and immediately scramble up onto the nearest chair, pulling your knees to your chest.

"Sylus!" you call out, voice a little shaky.

"There's a spider!"

Sylus appears from the hallway, looking mildly concerned until he sees the tiny culprit. "kitten..that little thing?"

"It's huge !!" you exaggerate wide-eyed, pointing dramatically toward the wall. "Get rid of it!"

He sighs, walking calmly toward the spider.

But before he can even approach, you reach out, arms extended. "Wait! Carry me first!"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "sweetie,you want me to carry you because of a spider?"

"Yes!" you demand. "It's going to crawl over here and-ugh-I don't even want to think about it!" Without hesitation sylus bends down and scoops you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back.

He carries you to the other side of the room, all while you cling to him dramatically, face buried in his shoulder.

He sets you down gently on the couch and smirks. "Safe enough now sweetie?"

You nod, peeking out from behind your hands. "Yeah, but... make sure it's gone." Sylus shakes his head, amused but indulgent and deals with the spider quickly.

"There, crisis averted."

You sigh in relief, settling into the couch.

"You're my hero."

He rolls his eyes playfully but ruffles your hair. "I think you could've handled it without the theatrics."

"Not a chance" you say with a grin. "That's what you're here for."

[jburrgf]

About You I — The Love Trope Series.

“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”

◦pairing: ¡lsu! joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship! reader

◦summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦description: you and joe had a thing months before, but the things ended in a bad way. now, you see yourself stuck in something that requires you to be close to him every single day.

◦playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART ONE: CLEAN.

There are certain moments in life that seem impossible to forget. The second I walked onto LSU’s campus, I knew my life was about to change. But not just because of the classes, the social scene, or the crazy football culture.

When I started in LSU, it was supposed to be a clean slate. A chance to focus on my career path and prove to myself that I could thrive in a bigger pond, surrounded by people just as driven as me. Advertising and Public Relations wasn’t just a degree—it was a strategy. A way to blend my creative instincts with a business-minded edge.

What I didn’t expect was LSU’s football program to be the centerpiece of everything.

LSU football wasn’t just a sport. It was culture, identity, and religion rolled into one. By my second semester, I was interning with the athletic department, brainstorming marketing campaigns and filming promos for the team. I was good at what I did—so good that I convinced myself it didn’t bother me when my work bled into my personal life.

Everything started to go wrong when I met him. Tall, blond, American aesthetic, and so, but so kind. That was Joe Burrow, the youngest transferred from Ohio State to the south. New just like me.

Joe was Joe —calm, collected, and infuriatingly charming. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other players, but the air shifted when he walked into a room. Everyone noticed him. And the first time we crossed paths, I did too.

We met my junior year at a party, back when he was just Joe—a talented quarterback with a quiet intensity and a way of looking at you like he could see straight through every mask you’d ever worn. I hadn’t planned on noticing him, but it was impossible not to.

And since then, I'm haunted by his face, his smile, his smell, his body. Every little thing that made him Joe, it was inside my head like a bad song that you can’t stop singing. I didn’t want that, not in the beginning.

And now, I'm running from him like the plague. Every place he might be, I'm not going. Every little encounter or party, or dinner, or what else, I wasn’t going.

It was a party I didn’t want to go to. Maddie had been bothering me for weeks to go to this party, and honestly, I didn't feel like going. Simply no desire.

"I'm serious, Y/N. You work too hard," Maddie, my best friend at LSU, said to me. We had just left one of our classes together, and were walking around the campus, heading towards Maddie's car. "You're missing the entire college experience."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m here to build my career, not get drunk at frat houses.”

“Even Beyoncé has to relax,” she shot back. “I’m picking you up at eight, tomorro, no excuses. But now, we’re going to Malone’s.”

[…]

I didn’t want to be here.

Malone’s was Maddie’s favorite spot, a college-town bar where everyone gathered on weekends to drink, laugh, and pretend their responsibilities didn’t exist. It was the kind of place where the sticky floors were part of the charm, and you couldn’t walk two feet without bumping into someone you knew. Normally, I’d avoid it like the plague—especially on a night like tonight, when Maddie’s sole mission was to convince me to go to that stupid party tomorrow.

“You’re being dramatic,” Maddie said as I slid into the booth across from her, the sound of the bar’s chatter and faint music drowning out half her words. “It’s just one party. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I rolled my eyes, pulling my coat tighter around me despite the warmth of the bar. “You say that like you don’t know me. I don’t do frat parties, Maddie. I don’t want to spend my Saturday night elbow-to-elbow with drunk people I barely know.”

“That’s the fun of it,” she countered, her grin far too smug for my liking.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, reaching for the drink she’d already ordered for me.

“I’m persistent,” she corrected. “And don’t think I didn't notice that you didn’t actually say no.”

I groaned, leaning back in the booth. Maddie had been trying to drag me to this party for days, claiming it was some can’t-miss event that would somehow make my life infinitely better. I wasn’t convinced, but I’d stopped arguing because, frankly, I didn’t have the energy.

I was checking on the bar from above my shoulders when It happened.

Joe Burrow.

The last person I ever expected to see here, especially tonight.

My chest tightened the moment I spotted him standing by the dartboard, his tall frame impossible to miss, his blond hair was slightly disheveled, and the faint scruff on his jaw made him look older than he had when we’d last spoken. Joe was dressed casually, jeans and a hoodie, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, and was laughing at something one of his friends said, the sound cutting through the low hum of the bar like a knife.It wasn’t just the way he carried himself or the fact that he was Joe Burrow—LSU’s star quarterback—but the way my body reacted, as if it had its own memory of him.

I hadn’t seen him in months—not since we’d ended things without really ending them. And now, seeing him here, so casually present in my space, felt like a slap to the face. Work Out from J Cole was playing, and everything felt like a movie scene.

It wasn’t like we had history. At least not in the way most people assumed. We barely knew each other. But there had been that one night at a party a while back, and another one after a game, and another one at our friends house, and another one… and the tension between us had never fully died down. I could still remember the way his eyes had felt on me, like he was measuring me in some silent way I didn’t know how to interpret.

“Y/N.” Maddie’s voice snapped me out of my daze. She followed my line of sight and groaned. “Oh no.”

I shook my head, panic setting in. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t even know if he saw you.”

“I’m not sticking around to find out,” I said, already sliding out of the booth.

“Y/N—”

But I was gone, weaving through the crowd toward the back hallway where the bathrooms were. I needed to breathe, to get away from the overwhelming weight of his presence.

The bathroom at Malone’s was about as glamorous as you’d expect—a narrow space with flickering fluorescent lights and graffiti scrawled across the stalls. I locked myself in one of the stalls, leaning back against the door as I tried to steady my breathing.

Of all the places to run into Joe, it had to be here.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about him. I had—more than I cared to admit. But thinking about him was one thing. Seeing him, knowing he was just a few feet away, was something else entirely.

I couldn’t face him. Not now, not here.

The bathroom was quiet, the kind of eerie stillness that felt out of place in the chaos of Malone’s. I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection in the smudged mirror.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath.

I didn’t even know why I was reacting like this. It wasn’t like we were still together. We weren’t anything anymore. And yet, the sight of him had thrown me completely off balance, dredging up feelings I thought I’d buried a long time ago.

But I couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, either.

I opened the bathroom door and nearly walked straight into him.

Joe was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed squarely on me.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and steady, a hint of amusement curling at the edges.

Nope.

Without a second thought, I ducked back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

I paced the small space, my mind racing. He’d seen me, which meant he was waiting for me. I couldn’t hide in here forever, but the thought of facing him felt impossible.

Eventually, I forced myself to take a deep breath and opened the door again.

Joe was gone.

Relief flooded through me as I stepped out into the hallway, my eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of him. But instead of Joe, my attention was drawn to a small slip of paper pinned to the corkboard on the wall next to the bathroom.

It wasn’t there before.

Curious, I stepped closer and pulled it free. The handwriting was unmistakable—slanted and bold, with a certain sharpness to the letters that felt uniquely him.

“Go to the party tomorrow. Please.”

I stared at the note, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

My fingers tightened around the paper as Maddie appeared at the end of the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the note.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, shoving it into my pocket.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Ready to head back? I don’t think Joe’s here anymore.”

I nodded, though my mind was miles away.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe I would go. Maybe I wouldn’t.

But one thing was for sure: Joe Burrow had just made sure I wouldn’t forget this night.

——————————————

part 2: About You II (The Love Trope Series) — All Over Me.

hey guys! this is the beginning of my Love Tropes Series. The first part, About You, it’s going to be launched in four parts! stay tuned :)

[vi-arcanes-left-biceps]

So... I wanted to write about the Caitlyn hate train because it's flooding my twt.

First I'd like to start by saying that you're entitled to dislike a character. Arcane is a work of art, but it's also just cartoons -whatever, just hate the cartoon character. I don't even like Caitlyn that much, mostly I find her arc very compelling.

But. The amount of hate and the shape it takes, for me, is very clearly influenced by a few factors.

With Caitlyn I feel like half of the folks are just regurgitating discourse they read before and try to earn internet morality/politics points while very much forgetting to touch grass. There is no"I don't like her", there is a sense of rightgeousness in disliking her that doesn't make much sense. "She's literally Hitler!" Please think. There are real life fascists and nazis over here. This is a cartoon who's the bad guy for like four and a half episodes.

There are interesting conversations to have about how Caitlyn's actions mirror real life oppression, as many also point out as a reason to hate her. It's fair that you dislike her those actions, to be honest. But 1) stories are not made to be morally perfect but to explore themes and emotions -characters will do bad, even evil things; 2) critical consumption of media exists; 3) using political language to hate on a fictional character with no real political critique/analysis behind makes me think you don't really believe that much what you're saying & you just want to use buzzwords you learned on the internet.

Takes like this are tinted with some sort of attempt to a moral high ground for disliking a fictional character for political reasons, while simultaneously refusing to understand the narrative of the character and think critically about what it is trying to say about real world politics.

To analyse a story you have to engage with it. See what it wants to tell you. See how it does it. See how it fails. You can dislike Caitlyn and tbh disliking her because of her role in the story is more than fair. But that doesn't equal media analysis. And I'm sorry but not liking a character doesn't make you more politically committed than the rest.

There are so many interesting things to say about Arcane's flawed portrayal of politics. How it uses the aesthetics of oppression to tell a story without deeply analysing the oppression itself within the narrative, how the context in which it was created and the beliefs held by its authors afect the portrayal of themes... Among all these, "Caitlyn is evil and irredeemable because we saw a montage of her and Vi doing police violence" is a very superficial take. Please, please, pleeease analyse those montages frame by frame and discuss how they showcase police violence, what bias they have, what purpose it serves. Analyse how it takes from real life events in a way that is insensitive. I'd love it sooo much to see posts like this.

On the other side, I've seen people say both that say Caitlyn is evil because of the acts she commits and then say that Silco is a revolutionaire. What? Silco WAS a revolutionaire, and he still had a motivation to make Zaun free, but his motivations do not match his actions and that's pretty obvious. "Sometimes revolution requires violent resistance" = "Silco is a revolution hero" showcases a very shallow level understanding of the first phrase there. Silco flooded the streets of Zaun with drugs. The Firelights were born out of willingness to defend zaunites from Silco and Jinx. Silco did not do violent resistance against Piltover, not since the rebellion he had led with Vander. He tried to invent shimmer as a weapon to fight again and the only thing he managed is to make many people misserable and dependent on it -and he didn't care. His character and his actions are quite more complicated than "he's doing everything for revolution"; but again, another character reduced to a catchphrase that fails to actually engage with his story. Only difference between these people's opinions on Silco and Caitlyn is that Silco's character has the word "revolution" near in the script and Caitlyn's script includes "cop".

Another thing is, why hate Caitlyn so much and not say a single thing about Ambessa? I can think of a few reasons but I'll summarise like this:

1) Not being aware that Ambessa is always the one calling the shots here even if Caitlyn is given the title of Commander. Even though the show is very much making this clear.

2) Because Caitlyn gets a redemption and Ambessa gets "punished" aka is a villain and dies. As if humans where not more complex than good and evil.

3) Caitlyn's more popular than Ambessa I guess? It's always more fun to hate on the popular character. Also she's a main character so she'd obviously get more more attention.

3) Some people just want women to be perfectly moral all the time, and in wlw relationships even more. I didn't want to bring up fandom misoginy & lesbophobia but I can tell if it was Jayce having her narrative and redemption the discourse would be quite different.

Anyway. Acab and long live critical thinking. I guess I just want to say please send some nuanced Caitlyn takes my way because I'd really love to read those.

[simplydnp]

be honest with me. what are the chances of a hard launch in june

anon this question goes back years. and the thing is. we have been right once before.

you ask me this this time last year? fuck no. i might even quip that dapg would come back before dnp would hard launch. well. look at us now.

and even then, you look back on the content they started with in the revival--it honestly kind of felt exactly like where we left off, only a lot more explicitly queer (we stan). and then... trying to see without my glasses 2. and bang, spooky week happened. and that shifted the balance. we suddenly got slo-mo replays of handholds. day, after day, after day, finishing with the absolute masterpiece of halloween baking cinnamon rolls. in all honesty it was so much more than i'd've ever expected from them. truly another post-baking universe.

and it never really slowed down. suddenly we had cat prom photos, catboy butlers, catboy dan w/ phil photography credit, theyre 'wrestling' --running us full throttle into gamingmas, the first since 2017. and every day we had a new thing to freak out over: standing close. golf jokes. and then... pinof reacts. i don't know what compelled them to do it but i do have speculations. genuinely, i think they wanted to defang a lot of their history. we treated pinof 1, especially, with this... reverance. and it wasn't talked about too publicly--and dnp didnt do it either. so if they really wanted to move on, to bring down the walls, open the floodgates, define this new era: they had to throw the first stone. and they did. quite heartily too. suddenly this almost taboo part of their history--almost too intimate to be perceived--was on the table. and we were talking about it. joking about it. giving clear signals of 'we see it, it's okay.' and suddenly we existed in a post-pinof reacts world. of anything, i would've never predicted they would've done that. absolutely wild. follow that with it takes two being so chill and fond. incohearant being so blatant and heartfelt. trombone champ being unhinged and chaotic. the genuine and sweet complimenting of each other in the red carpet video. devan wedding... happilyphoreverafter... we crashed forward in time. never knowing what would be next. where is the line? how far will they go.

they teased us with japhan honeymoon and we knew 2024 would be wild. but we didn't know how much. from wdapteo 2023, to specific reminiscing about japan w/ devan, WAD happening, and phil playing a huge role in it all--from the orange carpet hosting, to 'ive been in *sex noises* with phil from the start!', to 'remote crisis manager phil lester', to dan saying he can stay during the thank you.

one of the biggest videos so far this year was the tiktok likes one. i will be forever haunted by the dog eating cheeseburger and willy wonka tiktoks--theres some things i was never meant to know. and yet. they tell us. explicitly.

every single video on amazingphil since the return of dapg has mentioned or featured dan. there's been a palpable shift in the way they interact. have you seen the way phil has been glowing in videos lately? this guy is on cloud nine all the time. it's really not hard to see why.

the energy of keep or yeet w/ dan... the absolute Lack of pretense of it all. phan twitter... watch your step baby girl...

dan and phil fucking crafts. talk about an unexpected return. legacy defining, one might even say. we're still in this tailspin of what everything means and they drop this insanely iconic video on us. from the storytelling to the production to the aesthetic--and its all capped off by explicit handholding. yes, it was part of the sacrifice. but hand in hand, the heart dan ripped from phils chest in one, and the knife that did it in the other... oh boy. we're really in it now. and then they put it on fucking merch. genius. truly no one does it like them.

and the foot has been on the accelerator since. dan and phil connections, shuffleboard & mocktails, getting deep slumber party, acknowledgement & approval of fics (yes previously given but never like this)--hell, even the sims today was wild for 'is their love language horrible banter 👀'.

you didn't ask for an essay but i gave you one. all of this to say, they've been moving the line. quite intentionally so. they intentionally revived their joint branding. they are 'dan and phil' again, and seem happier than ever about it, and i think that means something. they're saying things they never would have before--out of the closet or not.

as for june... 5 years since coming out is a big deal. so is this year being 15 years of dnp. hell, so is this year for being the first out pride month where they're explicitly a duo and regularly making content together. they're sentimental, there will be something.

my craziest idea is reacting to their coming out videos ✌️😔 --but i don't think it'll actually happen. as for more realistic, i could see pride merch. and however that goes will be significant, in my opinion. i'm excited and curious.

i don't know if they'll hard launch. it's hard to put all of the implications, complications, and speculations back into the box once it's opened. dan's talked about it before--wanting to be able to fuck up and not be publically executed, instead, being able to learn and grow and work it out. i think that's a very understandable stance to have. very grounded. we'd have to ask him if tour/dapg has changed that now. i do think he's had some sort of life epiphany--whether it's about that specifically, only he can say. but i think it's there.

even if i portray a lot of level-headedness, i wear my clown nose with pride. sometimes the only option is to go with whatever is funniest at the time. they're both jokesters, so they could commit to a bit like that. but it's also like, it can be too serious for them to want to joke about. i don't know. i think we're in this almost beautiful state right now--the we know you know of it all. there's no expectations, no demands to be met, no obligations of types of content. they're happy. we're happy. it depends on if they feel ready. if they want to. we'll be here, always.

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── WISH UNATTAINABLE ┊ A MERE DREAM ﹑ HSR ⤿ starring: boothill ◟ sunday ◟ dr. ratio.

꒰ a player's mission ﹢ ding! quest(s) unlocked. to obtain a reward of 100 stellar jades, knock yourself out with missions involving your favourite! don't get caught up in the dream though.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: i clearly had an idea & needed to jot it down before i forgot about it (old draft i wrote when i js was fresh into hsr bear w me 😢)

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ siobhan’s revealed that someone's here for you, insisting for you to not be a killjoy and come meet him.

“drink's on me sweetheart, knock ya'self out,” boothill slides the cocktail at you, giving his signature smirk as its free side dish.

you're not quite sure what you expected, but boothill being a bartender wasn't one of them. actually — it's believable when you think about it.

when siobhan sent you those messages, your mind went to either gallagher or aventurine. (un)fortunately, your guess was wrong. you are now a taste-tester and subjected to subtle flirting? a win is a win.

boothill puts a hand on his hip. he mixed the drink gracefully with siobhan's aid, it's bound to be perfect — hopefully.

“what's it called?” you asked, turning the glass around to appreciate the red and orange ombre. it reminds you of someone, but you can't put a finger on it.

“didn't think that far into it.” he shrugs. “you can name it, sweetheart.”

“i can name it sweetheart?”

“no, i meant... well, why the fuck not.”

you're sure you heard a disappointed sigh from him. maybe it's the alcohol? whatever, it tastes good. the drink's sweet, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste — if that makes sense. it's so sweet that you keep sipping, yet it's so bitter that you're reminded it's alcohol and not juice. a perfect balance.

gently placing the glass down, you slid it towards boothill, “another glass please, gentleman.”

“right away, darlin’,” he accepts your request, refilling your glass with the sweetheart special. this time, he adds a little edible glitter in the mix to spice up the aesthetic.

the glass is once again slid back to you. the only difference is a shine to the liquid. the new beauty to it can make even argenti fall to his knees to worship it (he worships anything beautiful).

“it's so good i can kiss you for it,” you mindlessly reply, licking your lips from the excess liquid.

goodness, do you want him to overheat? is the way to defeat a galaxy ranger a compliment without thought put into it?!

“pfft— uh— well—” he sputters, unable to form a proper sentence yet.

a few coughs later, he regains his ability to speak, “it's just that good ain't it, darlin’?”

“you're the best and i need you in the express to make fifteen of these,” with desperation in your voice, you lean over to hold his hand. it's cold, but not cold enough to make you back away.

“i'll be right with ya!”

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS ⟡ you received an anonymous message urging you to come to penacony. it felt like a scam, but the messages were too prim and proper to be one.

hmm, something isn't right. you can feel it in your bones. either you're experiencing side effects of being on cleaning duty, or you're being hunted down. has your excellence finally exceed you to the point where you've appeared on someone's hitlist? maybe.

staring at the message on your phone, you squint at it before moving your head away. you must be careful or else you'd be affected by its ominous energy.

there's only one logical decision to make: find dan heng and let him decipher a possible hidden code in the messages.

“dan heng, i need you!” you exclaimed, opening his room's door with a force that should only be reserved for battles.

“did you clean your manners out too?” sighing, dan heng closes the book he's reviewing.

“i think i'm being kidnapped,” ignoring his snarky comments, you enter his room, showing him the pile of messages.

> Hello, (y/n). I trust that you've been well during your trips.

> Have you decided on whether you'll return to Penacony? If not, I hope that you come soon.

> There is something I wish to do with you.

> Meet me at The Reverie Hotel 10 system hours from when you reply. I shall accompany you directly instead of a regular staff.

> That is all. I'll keep the conversations for our meeting.

you shake your head, hugging your body in attempts to shield yourself.

“see! there's no way that isn't someone out to get me.”

dan heng falls silent. clearly, this is someone you've met before, but who? they haven't left any name, let alone a profile icon. there's only one way to find out and that's to reply.

“hand me your phone, i'll reply.”

...

have you been deceived? is dan heng in on this too? why would he reply? suspicion dominates over you. you slowly back away from his side.

“damn... they really do say your enemies are close.”

“that's now how it... whatever. just give me the phone so i can ask for their identity.” his tone's laced with disappointment. he's not surprised, but boy was he wrong for thinking you matured.

being left with no other choice, you surrender your phone and safety to him.

< Sorry, who are you?

< I'm sure we've met though.

“they're typing...” he mutters, leaning into your side so you can see the screen too.

> My apologies. I forgot to set my account.

> This is Sunday, head of the Oak Family.

“sunday?!”

“sunday!?”

this time you both were taken by surprise. out of everyone in penacony that would've sent you a text, he was the least expected. dan heng shoots you a pitiful look. he's pretty sure sunday's still on your hitlist.

“i am not going.”

“it's rude to ignore someone's request.”

“dan heng,” you began, folding your arms across your chest, “you can't make me go.”

in response dan heng simply nods. he walks out his room and into the main area. you're not sure what he did, but he came back to you lounging on his bed in five minutes.

you were already comfortable, with one knee up and a foot on the knee. you expected him to come back, but not with a trusted adult.

“are you serious?”

“himeko, (y/n)'s ignoring someone's request to meet.”

one corner of his mouth moves up. he knows he won this battle. snitching is the way to go, always.

and that's how you're now standing besides sunday. all stiff with nervous laughs, praying to whichever aeon that he doesn't use the telepathy punishment thing on you. it's game over and restart if he ever dares to.

sunday's as poise as ever — with a hand behind his back, he observes the view of oti mall below. it's bustling with life; the noise is enough to do all the talking. truly a one-sided comfortable silence.

“so... how's life been, sunday?” you tread carefully with your question and behaviour. you don't even make eye contact.

sunday smiles slightly, “it's been busy as ever. this is probably the only moment of peace in my schedule.”

and it's silent again. how do you continue a conversation with a bigshot? you ran your mouth with the supreme guardian of belobog but god forbid you're with the head of the oak family. scary.

cold sweat drops. you have got to keep the conversation going or you'll lose your mind in seven minutes.

“been getting into gambling with the slot machines lately. what about you?”

perfect. ten out of ten. a penacony-related addiction.

“i see you've picked up that ipc stoneheart's behaviour.”

okay, maybe it wasn't that perfect. and was that disappointment?!

it's silent again. you steal a glance of sunday and it did not help. he has a relaxed expression on his face. his chest rising and falling with every breath. is he truly comfortable with the silence? you're dying here.

a sigh leaves you. why not just speak your mind.

“to be honest, it's a little uncomfortable being so silent. i feel like i'm being watched by that large eye in the mall.”

sunday's head turns, his expression slightly changes.

“apologies, i did not notice. would you like to take a walk together?” he suggests, holding his palm out to you.

you place your hand in his, trying to hide the smile. you're finally going to do something instead of standing like an npc.

“yeah, sure.”

after your approval, you basically re-toured penacony. he even took you to his office. that's not even the biggest part. the huge wow factor here is that you were hand-in-hand with him. yes, hands intertwined with the most handsome man in penacony. someone should be jealous.

although his hand was gloved it still counts. the gloves are thin anyway — it was basically skin contact. had you known beforehand that sunday's hand was this manly you wouldn't have even complained to dan heng.

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ herta bothered you to return to her station, insisting that she needs your help. you reluctantly agreed, but didn't expect to meet the doctor you've been hitting on.

> Come. I need to experiment on you.

< Excuse me?!?

> Aeon stuff.

< Which Aeon is it?

< Herta?

< Hellooooo... Anyone there...?

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

< You've got to be kidding me.

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

a heavy sigh leaves you. new day, same old herta demanding your presence and going off the net. well, it's been a while since you've revisited herta's space station, and it doesn't hurt gaining new knowledge on aeons. hopefully it'd be quick... and that screwllum's there as well. out of the three, screwllum's the sole one that's gentle.

once you stepped foot in her office, you stepped right back out. seeing someone you've been avoiding to reply to their messages certainly isn't a good thing. the chances of the man you were testing your charisma on being with herta is low — incredibly low — but never zero.

“come here, (y/n).” a voice filled with authority calls for you who's standing to the side of the door.

you purposefully chose that position; since the doors are automatic, they'd immediately open if you were directly in front of it.

“no, thanks!” you yelled, preferring to stay where its safe from confrontations.

inside the office, herta folds her arms. the clock is ticking, and she doesn't want to lose interest before she can glimpse the secret of at least one aeon.

“just go get her. what're you standing there for?”

with a tone as blunt as that, ratio feels slightly offended, but he can't argue. she's right, he can simply bring you back inside the office.

confidentally walking towards the door, he steps out and immediately turns his head left. it was as he calculated: you were right there leaning against the wall, trying your best to act nonchalant while ignoring his obvious presence.

“don't act childish.” disappointment laces his voice, his folded arms shows it, too.

“whatever do you mean, doctor?” you smiled.

ratio's having none of it. he moves his position to stand in front of you, forcing you to look at him instead.

“your behaviour then and now is childish. get back in the office.”

“cut me some slack! do you think the courage i have over text translates to real life?” your defenses raise, poking his chest to enforce your point. “you're intimidating and handsome, dude. give me a break.”

a silence follows. the kind of silence that indicates you said something you definitely should've kept as a thought. nervously, you move your eyes to look at ratio's. the eye contact doesn't last long — like you said, he's intimidating (and handsome).

“tell me something i don't know.” ratio breaks the silence, grabbing your finger off his chest. “but that's not the point here, is it? we have something to do.”

mood: ruined. it's common knowledge to anyone who's been in a conversation with ratio that he's well aware of his visuals. compliments are nothing new to him — it's a shame he didn't act the way he did in your daydreams.

“gosh, you're so annoying.” a voice of defeat.

grumbling, you straightened your posture, making your way back to herta's office. ratio followed behind, observing the you walked. has someone walking always been attractive, or is it just because it's you? a question that he'll be pondering on until he finds a suitable answer.

“hey. you guys took too long. i don't wanna do it again,” herta complains the second she saw you two walk in.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 4 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8

The Dutch and American couldn't keep each other out of their thoughts for the next few days.

Max found himself wanting to be around you more often. He found something other than racing, that he felt joy to be around.

You found herself drawn to the dark and mysterious aura that the Dutchman unmistakably had. Something about him made you feel something you never felt before.

In the days since they last saw each other, Max made good use of your number. Within an hour of leaving the coffee shop, he texted you.

Since then, they've been communicating nonstop. If they weren't busy with work, they were either texting or calling each other.

It wasn't until the upcoming Thursday that you felt like Max was becoming distant with you.

You were saddened by the thought. You rarely put Yourself out there, especially towards men, but something about Max made you want to try it.

By Sunday afternoon, Max had called you, extremely excited after winning the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. It was a close race between Ferrari and Redbull, but Max ultimately won in the end.

You had spent your Sunday painting, trying to keep your thoughts clear of a certain Dutchman. You wouldn't allow herself to think about it more than you should.

You had put yourself out there and was ghosted. You wouldn't wallow in self-pity for a man You had only met once. At least that's what you told herself.

In front of you lay a painting of piercing blue eyes that stared right back at you. You stared back, getting lost in the familiar gaze before the sound of your phone ringing broke your thoughts.

Quickly grabbing the phone without looking at who was calling, you answered, "Hello?"

"Hey," you heard the rough voice of the man who has been haunting your thoughts recently.

"Max?"

"Why do you sound surprised to get my call?"

"I didn't think you would call me," You said lightly, your heart racing just from his voice. "You seemed to not want to talk to me recently."

"I'm sorry, little lamb," You heard him sigh through the phone. "I was away for work and things got busy."

"Oh," You blushed at the pet name he said, "So you weren't done with me?"

"Little lamb, you can't get rid of me that easy," you giggled at his answer before responding.

"How was the work trip then?"

"It went well, but I can't wait to come back and see you again."

"When do you come back?"

"Tonight. I'd love to see you again sometime this week."

"I would love to see you too," you bit your lip nervously. "You have to tell me all about your trip."

"I will little lamb," he chuckled.

The Redbull driver couldn't keep the smile off his face. His little lamb wanted to be around him when he came back.

He was upset that you believed him to be ignoring you when that wasn't his intention at all. Max didn't tell you that he had gone away for work. He's used to people knowing who he is.

The name Max Verstappen has become a household name overnight it seemed. After winning his World Championship title last year, especially under the circumstances, he had built a name for himself. Good and bad.

So for him, you were a breath of fresh air. Being around someone that did know him, or what he does for a living, made him feel normal. As an F1 driver, normal is hard to come by.

Daniel Ricardo, the McLaren driver, and Max's closest friend, watched him on the phone from a distance. He had never seen his friend's face light up as much as it did when speaking to whoever was on the other end.

Daniel was there for the Dutchman since the beginning of his career at Redbull. Max was his younger brother in his head and he wouldn't have it any other way.

The McLaren driver knew that the Dutchman past, knowing he hadn't had the easiest life and his life revolved around racing. After watching the Redbull driver win his first title, the Aussie watched him slowly start to become a recluse.

Riccardo knew the young driver had been struggling since his world championship title came with a lot of controversy. Max wanted to prove to everyone, including himself, that he was a great driver.

Seeing the Aussie walking towards him, the Dutchman quickly told his little lamb goodbye and that he'd call back when he got the chance.

He didn't want anyone to know about you just yet. You were his escape from reality and he refused to share that escape with anyone else in fear of losing it.

"You all good mate?" The Australian driver asked once he got closer to the other driver, noticing the small smile on his face.

"Yeah," he responded shortly, letting the smile drop from his face.

"Who were you just on the phone with?" The driver smirks at his old teammate. He couldn't help but be nosey.

Especially after noticing how quickly he got off the phone when he approached. He wouldn't be Daniel Riccardo if he didn't know any drama.

"No one," Max shook his head quickly, refusing to fall for the other man's antics.

"Did our little Dutchman find a girl?"

"No," Max deadpanned. If he told the Aussie, it wouldn't be long before Lando, the other McLaren driver knew. And the younger driver couldn't keep a secret to save his life.

"You don't smile, especially on the phone, for just anyone."

"Daniel," the younger driver sighed, knowing the smile on his friend's face meant he wasn't going to stop pushing him. "If I tell you something you will drop the subject?"

The Aussie nodded his head vigorously, his classic grin plastered on his face. He just wanted to know what was going on with his friend.

If a girl is making him this happy, he'd like to know about you.

"You can't tell anyone about her okay? I don't need this getting out especially since it just started."

"I promise I won't say anything."

"She's amazing. She's gorgeous and absolutely the most innocent human being out there," he smiles thinking about you he hopes to see tomorrow. "The best part is, she doesn't know who I am."

"She doesn't?" That surprised Daniel, seeming how almost everyone knew who he was. "I don't want to say this, but is she faking this personality to get close to you?"

"No," the Dutchman shakes his head, not even entertaining the thought, "this girl can't lie to save her life. You can see it in her eyes that she has nothing but good intentions."

"Alright," the Aussie nods, choosing to believe his friend. "Where'd you meet her?"

"Coffee shop in Monaco."

"She's from Monaco and doesn't know who you are?"

"She's American, she only moved to Monaco for work."

"An American? Should have just started with that," the McLaren driver grins, "you know how much I love Americans."

Max shakes his head at his friend's comment. Thinking to himself how right his friend is.

The McLaren driver does love Americans, everyone on the grid is pretty positive that the man is a secret American pretending to be Australian.

"Look man," Daniel says while grabbing the Redbull driver's shoulder, "if she's making you this happy, who am I to say shit."

The Dutchman gives the Aussie a slight smile, thinking about you. He can't see you fitting into his lifestyle, yet at the same time, he can't seem to want anyone but you here.

"I want to be the first one to meet her," Daniel slowly gets a mischievous look in his eyes, "I can't promise that she won't choose me instead of you once she sees this beautiful face."

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access

[thollandneedy]

Masked- Peter Parker

A/N: Since y'all enjoyed so much the Ned's sister prompt... (last halloween themed fic btw)

Summary: Peter hooks up with someone on a Halloween party, but he didn't know that it was Ned's sister

Warnings: Language, teasing, mentions of alcohol, sexual content (p in v; fem!receiving, and praise kink)

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

The sound of classic Halloween songs blared from the speakers scattered around Ned's house, while the wind blew the orange leaves into his yard. The boy in the Zorro costume cursed to himself every time he saw the leaves falling, as it would be another chore to do the next morning, since his parents were out of the house. With hurried steps, he ran to the door to open it for the guests of his not-so-secret party (since his younger sister had told the whole school that there would be a party at her house on the thirty-first).

Unlike Ned, Y/n was considered popular in Midtown because of her charisma and, above all, her beauty. Like her brother, she had inherited good genes and had a mental capacity to envy. The girl was only a year younger than Ned, and yet he made a point of treating her like a child. After many fights and discussions to find a theme that met his sister's “aesthetic pinterest” requirements, Ned agreed to have a masquerade costume party where everyone had to wear personalized masks for their characters to “encourage creativity” in his words.

Although it wasn't much talked about, everyone knew that Ned and his family were well-off, and that consequently their house was big enough to easily house more than 100 people without them all bumping into each other. Ned looks back one more time before opening the door, already leaving a jar of sweets at the entrance for the guests to pick up as soon as they arrive at the house. The dark-haired man opens the door, only to find Peter standing there, while other cars are already parking so as not to have any problems, but late in the day with a lack of space on the street.

“What's up, man?” Ned smiles when he finds his best friend, Peter Parker, dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. “I liked the costume, but I thought you'd come as Zorro with me.”

Peter wasn't one to talk about liking musicals, but one of the few ones he really admired was “The Phantom of the Opera”, which became one of his secret passions after his aunt took him to see it on Broadway a few years ago. Parker didn't have his face completely hidden as it should have been, but it was what he had for that day, and he was going to use that to his advantage rather than spend more time making an artwork that would probably look terrible.

“That one was on sale.” The student says quietly, then laughs and enters the house as soon as the door closes behind him.

The house was decorated with mainly purple and blue neon lights, while the windows bore handprints smeared with fake blood. On some walls you could see some mystical beings pasted on, while some projected ghosts were flying over the kitchen ceiling. Cobwebs were used on furniture, themed food was displayed on the kitchen worktop, and the rest of the decoration was based on cushions, candles and decorative utensils.

“Let me think about who did all the decorating.” Peter looks around, admiring Ned's sister's creativity.

“Don't even tell me about it.” Ned rolls his eyes. “I told Y/n to keep it simple, but you know how she is about parties. It always has to be her way, or she'll freak out.” Ned comments, taking a seat among the decorative pumpkin cushions in the living room.

The sound of the doorbell ringing catches the boys' attention, while Leeds spares no effort to call out his sister's name so that she can welcome the guests. The girl doesn't answer, causing her older brother to curse to himself and shout once more:

“Y/N. COME DOWN HERE AND WELCOME THE GUESTS ALREADY.”

“I'M FINISHING MY HAIR, YOU SELFISH PRICK. I DON'T HURRY YOU WHEN YOU'RE TAKING TOO LONG TO GET READY TO GO OUT WITH BETTY” The girl shouts, opening the door to her room and then slamming it shut.

“Son of a bitch.” Ned puts one of his hands to his face, getting up from the sofa to greet his sister's guests, while Peter reacts with a low laugh. “Make yourself at home, Pete. My sister will be down soon, and you talk to her.”

(...)

The sound of the conversations seemed to overpower the loud music, and apparently Y/n's idea was working. The girl had the masks in mind so that there would be no differentiation between groups of friends, allowing everyone to express themselves as they saw fit, and to be able to talk to people outside their group of friends without feeling threatened. Y/n was sitting at the kitchen table, her two hands resting on the side of her body as she chatted with some friends. Her white dress hugged her hips, while her loose hair only enhanced her beauty.

From afar, it was possible to see the house full. Some were in the living room playing “Just Dance”, while others were in the kitchen drinking and some in the games room using the pool table for their drinks bets. Fortunately, it wasn't as rowdy as university parties, but Ned was certainly a lot more worried about someone using his motel room. The student was sitting in the living room, watching his colleagues from the robotics class sweating in their costumes as they danced to 'Timber', and doing extremely badly. Peter, on the other hand, was chatting to some girls in his class.

Peter Parker never stopped being a nerd, but he also never stopped being extremely attractive. Many girls liked Peter, while the boys didn't know whether to try to befriend Parker in order to benefit from the girls, or just swear at him so that he would lose their confidence.

“I didn't know you were in a couple.” One of the girls dressed as Doroty commented to the brunette.

“I'm not.” Peter commented, grimacing and looking around in search of a twin of his costume.

“That girl is wearing the Christine Daaé costume,” another girl pointed out, causing the brunette to turn quickly to face her.

She was beautiful, delicate and her eyes were mesmerizing. Her legs were exposed, while her feet wore low heels in the same pearly color as her dress. The girl also had little sparkly star-shaped clips in her curly babylined hair. Her mask was white with lace around it, making her eyes stand out even more

It was sexy, tempting, intriguing.

“Do you know who it is? Her mask doesn't let me identify who it is.” The brunette commented, still watching the girl who was laughing at other people's conversations with her apparent friends.

“Go and ask.” The other girl dressed as Glinda comments, watching as Peter says goodbye and heads in the direction of his character's romantic partner.

Peter approaches with slow steps, adjusting his mask and cape, trying not to look strange as he approaches her, but before he can say anything, the girl calls out to him with a smile on her face, waving one of her hands at him.

“Hi, Peter.” The girl calls out.

“Hi.” He replies awkwardly. “I like your costume.” He points to the white dress, along with the corset that makes her breasts look higher.

“And I like yours.” She replied, realizing that he hadn't recognized her.

Y/n was no different from her classmates, and the other girls in the other classes. Y/n would never tell her brother about the little crush she had on her brother's best friend, but she always watched from afar. Taking advantage of the fact that she was wearing a mask, she thought she could use this to her advantage. Because if he didn't recognize her, maybe she could try something more like the way she daydreamed when she had her imaginary scenarios before bed. She was his best friend's sister, and if he knew that, he would never try anything.

“Are you friends with Ned's sister?” The girl asked, getting off the workbench and approaching the brunette, who came closer to her ear so she could speak.

“I know her, but I don't talk to her that much. Whenever I come here to study with Ned or play video games, she's doing something. Or at school in the drama club, or book club, or at the mall with her friends, or even sleeping in her four-poster. Anyway, it's very difficult for us to meet other than at school.” The boy says loudly into the girl's ear, who agrees with a smile on her face as she feels him close to her.

“Have you and Ned been friends for a long time?” The girl stands on her tiptoes to comment in the costume designer's ear.

“We have been for quite a while, actually. Since they were 12, and you? Are you friends with his sister?” Peter asks, leaving Y/n against the wall at his question.

She didn't want to lie to Peter, because if he found out about this little lie, he might look at her with different eyes. The girl just nodded, turning quickly to the side, where some drinks were positioned on the counter decorated with cobwebs and toy spiders. The girl faced the table, picked up a red cup, and looked at Peter as if to ask if he wanted a drink. Peter doesn't usually drink, but he would, just to be able to keep up with the mysterious girl.

“What do you recommend?” He moves closer, standing with his shoulders side by side with hers.

“What do you like?” The girl asks, opening the clear bottle of vodka.

“Girls dressed as Christine Daaé.” He tucks a piece of Y/n's loose hair behind her ear, causing the girl to let out a low laugh and nod. “And you?”

Y/n stares at him, making a point of penetrating him with her eyes, as if he could be restrained alive by intention alone. The younger girl approaches, raising her head to answer him as he narrows his gaze:

“Boys with attitude… and tequila sunrise” Y/n comments, drawing a silly laugh from Peter.

At that moment, not even the people passing by could make the tension disappear from the air, and only those who could feel the heat of desire take over their bodies were attracted. Peter wasn't the type to do things quickly, as he liked to pay attention to detail, but it was a party and not a play for him to declare himself. The girl looked at the table with several bottles on it, stared at them for a few seconds, and then turned her gaze to Peter once more, waiting for him to do something other than talk. Fortunately, the brunette slid one of his fingers down the younger girl's exposed arm, reaching her free hand and saying:

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

(...)

The music and side conversations were no longer loud, and there was a certain peace wherever they were going. Y/n had her hands intertwined with Peter's, guiding him into a room that was being used as an office. It was large, with dark wooden shelves and a glass table in the center behind a large window that mirrored the moonlight. Y/n and Ned's parents were realtors in New York, but the bad part was that they also owned an agency, which meant that every month they had to travel out of state to resolve or improve an issue in the company.

Y/n closed the white door behind her, allowing Peter to step away from her and look at the books on the shelves, and some paintings too. Y/n was easily charmed by Peter's knowledge, as he was good at everything he did and knew a bit about everything. The brunette gently touched the base of the books, pulling them out to read their titles. The girl didn't hurry, she just followed him, putting her hands on his shoulders and kissing his neck without pulling him away, but Peter wasn't there to look at books.

The boy turned to the clean, innocent image that Y/n was passing by, putting his hands on her waist and finally pressing his lips to hers. The kiss began slowly, increasing in intensity as their tongues caught fire and their hands roamed their bodies. Parker moaned softly against the younger girl's lips, holding onto her waist tighter and tighter, waiting for the slightest sign that he could lose himself completely in the mysterious girl's body. Y/n, for his part, ran his nails down the buttons of his white shirt, slowly unbuttoning them.

And that was the last straw

“Can I touch you?” Peter asked breathlessly.

“Please.” Y/n asked in a low grunt, causing the boy to hold her in his lap, placing her on the glass table.

Peter put his weight on Y/n, lifting the rest of the dress that fell down her legs, to finally reach her smooth thighs. The girl tilted her head back, as if asking him to go deeper. Peter could feel his pants getting tighter and tighter, while his fingers seemed to search for a treasure in the middle of Y/n's legs, leaving him completely kneeling for her. He quickly removed his mask, throwing it on the floor and enjoying the wet core that was already waiting for him. Peter held Y/n's thighs tightly, pulling her closer to his mouth, which couldn't seem to take the pleasure. His tongue slid between her clitoris and her entrance, painting her orgasm in an explosion of guarded feelings. The girl held tightly to Parker's hair, which was now messy.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” Peter said against her wet pussy.

“Keep going, please.” The girl pleaded desperately, having her request granted as soon as she felt the student's tongue enter her pussy. “That's fucking it!”

Peter stood up, noticing that Y/n's legs already seemed to be shaking. In a moment of anguish and desire, he held her from behind, allowing her to taste him. They both moaned in satisfaction, allowing the younger girl to touch Peter's penis, which marked his pants. Y/n bent down, trying to unbutton Peter's pants, quickly unzipping them and placing the black fabric on the floor. When the girl tried to put her feet on the carpet and kneel down, Peter stopped her with a kiss and denied her with his head, saying:

“I want you.” He said with swollen lips. “Do you want me?”

Y/n doesn't respond, but his body does. His hair stood on end, and his legs spread wider so that he could fit in. Quickly taking off his underpants and throwing them to a forgotten side of the room, Peter pumped his penis a few times, and you could see the glow that his tip exuded from his over-excitement. The brunette kept his hands strong, biting his lip to control the loud moans that begged to come out. Y/n just watched, putting her hands behind her corset to untie her belly, which was compressed by the garment. They both stared at each other for a moment, appreciating their bodies from top to bottom, exuding their desire through their sin-subdued gazes.

“Shit. The condom is in my wallet pocket that was left in the car.” Peter remembers, cursing under his breath for having forgotten the fact.

“I take birth control. It's fine.” She says, knowing that Peter would be trustworthy enough to use the privilege of using a contraceptive.

“Really?” Parker questions her to make sure of what she was saying.

“Yes.” She shakes her head energetically.

Peter moves closer to Y/n, already feeling that his legs would collapse just from her touch. Y/n bites her lower lip at the image of the boy entering her sensitive spot, absorbing all of her thickness to the point where the girl in the white dress puts her own hand over her mouth to cover the loud moan that escapes her pink lips. Peter holds her by the waist, while the girl's body is practically leaning over the table, giving the brunette room to reach the bottom of the woman's pussy. They can both feel their sweaty skins coming into contact, and the sound of them slapping together as the movement increases.

“Peter.” The girl moans.

“Do you like it? Tell me how you like it.” The brunette asked, furrowing his brows as he moaned lowly, waiting for an answer.

“I've wanted you for so long. You have no idea.” Y/n moans louder, feeling the tip of Peter's penis hit her G-spot.

“We should have done this before then, princess. You fit me so well.” He grunts, increasing his speed and feeling his legs tremble with each thrust.

“You wouldn't notice me.” She comments impatiently and slyly.

“It's impossible for me not to notice someone like you, angel.” He stretches his hand out to one of the woman's breasts, making her place one of her hands on top of his, indirectly asking him to squeeze them. “I'm going to come like this, princess.”

“Me too. Please don't stop.”

Y/n moved her hips, searching for more pleasure, following the movements of the older man who, in a few seconds, hugged her tightly, putting his member in much deeper than before, ejaculating his hot liquid at the same time as his partner dug her pink nails into his shirt, screaming into his shoulder with her legs wrapped around his hips. Their legs tremble and their mouths return to a calm, wet kiss, catching their breath and slowly pulling their faces apart until their eyes penetrate each other once more, even interpreted in such a dirty way that it could be considered a crime.

“Are you all right?” Peter asks, running one of his hands through Y/n's messy hair.

“Yeah, and you?“ Y/n asks.”Shit, my friends must be looking for me.”

“Sure, mine too.” Peter agrees, slowly withdrawing his member from Y/n's vagina, and looking for the rest of her clothes while the girl re-ties her corset. “I still don't know your name.” Peter comments.

“And would it be important to know?” Y/n smiles softly, watching him only in the moonlight.

“Not really.” Peter comments, finishing putting on his pants, which were lying on the floor. “I wasn't surprised you chose Phantom of the Opera, by the way.” Peter commented, pointing with his chin at the girl's outfit that had come down from the table.

“And why not?” Y/n fixes her hair, tilting her head to one side as soon as Peter asks.

“Because I was the one who left the flowers in your dressing room after you finished your performance, Y/n. By the way, great idea to reuse the costume. You look hot in it.” Peter buttons up his white blouse.

Y/n stops for a second, realizing that she wasn't as cunning as she thought she was. The girl opens her mouth to try to say something, but realizes it was all a game. Peter walks over to her, finishing buttoning his last button. The brunette bends down to pick up his mask and then puts it on, still watching Y/n's perplexed face.

“Why didn't you tell me you knew who I was?”

“Isn't that what masks were for?” Peter gives a sideways smile, kissing the top of Y/n's head gently.

The boy turns around, opening the door and leaving the room.

“ Motherfucker” Y/n curses him, smiling at his incredulity.

[nxtahxro]

❝ and if I could turn back the clock , i'd make sure the light defeated the dark . i'd spend every hour , of every day , keeping you safe .

( @prxtectors )

[ittsybittsybunny]

ATLA Live Action Series Review:

The Good

Aesthetically this show felt right. Sure sometimes the outfits didn't quite feel lived in, but I always felt like I was watching a fantasy world with decent effects and interesting design. Also, I really enjoyed the sets!

Bending: Yes some of the fights feel very quick, but the bending looks cool. It is certainly better than 10 benders lifting one big rock. I can honestly say the opening bending fight scene gave me so much hope for this show.

Kyoshi Warriors: I loved seeing them in live action, and I thought Suki's performance was great!

Omashu: I think the mashup of the mechanist made sense since that is an important character overall and I would hate to see him cut. However, both Jet & the secret tunnels felt sloppily thrown in.

Northern Water Tribe: I really loved the way it looked, and appreciated the two episodes we spent here. I think Yue gained more agency in this interpretation, and why shouldn't the moon spirit be a waterbender. Also, episode seven felt the most in tune with the original show's spirit.

Zuko: I think he was one of the most fleshed-out and best parts of the show! Dallas Liu really captured Zuko's spirit, and the scene between him and Aang in episode 6 was wonderful!

Soundtrack: Hearing the original soundtrack bits is always great, and when I first heard the ending music I was so excited.

Is the show perfect, no - but I wouldn't mind a season 2.

The Bad

Pacing: Turning 20 episodes into 8 was bound to lead to some cuts...but oftentimes times things felt too quick or disjointed. I think there were editing problems contributing to this for sure, but sometimes things skipped around too much without a clear purpose as to why. Also, why bring in plots from later seasons when you barely have enough time already?

Writing: This show definitely suffered from exposition dumping, though it did get better as time went on. I think the biggest example of this is actually opening in the past rather than the present. We do not get to learn along with Aang that the world has changed, instead, we get to learn that 100 years have passed....which doesn't hold the same tension or worldbuilding.

Clunky Dialogue: Along with exposition, clunky dialogue is another example of bad writing. I think sometimes I felt like the acting was kind of meh in the beginning, but then over time I began to realize it had far more to do with the lines characters were trying to deliver. The actors themselves are not bad, just cursed with awkward writing and lines that feel out of touch with the setting they're in.

Main Trio: I don't entirely know that I believe Katara, Sokka, and Aang are friends as opposed to 3 people stuck together to save the world. Aang feels a little too somber for a young kid running away from his responsibilities, Sokka is protective, but not exactly the heart of the team, and Katara is sort of just there until the last two episodes. Where is her struggle, her desire to learn so strong she steals from pirates? Also, while Gordon Cormier did a great job, Aang does zero waterbending on his own, is overly serious, and tells Katara not to fight. Where is his desperation to protect his friends? It feels like they all lost emotional depth.

Tension: Bringing Ozai, Azula, and Zhao out in the beginning immediately causes us to lose the realization there is an even bigger bad. Part of why Ozai is so terrifying is he is a primarily silent villain until the third season when we finally see the face of the "big bad evil guy" behind it all. Yes, they add to Zuko's backstory, but again, they are revealing the villains too early. Azula is the antagonist of season 2 and one of my favorite characters, so I hope they do more with her in the future. Finally, Zhao is supposed to be an example of the uncontrollable nature of fire unrestrained, instead, he comes off as vaguely threatening with the supposed true power being Azula.

Characterization: While all characters are bound to lose something in a shorter show, it still felt like certain characters were more mutilated than others. I am sure there are 100 different opinions on who, but I think the biggest victim was Katara.

Katara: Katara manages to go from a complete novice to a bending master in what feels like a matter of days. The journey feels short, and that makes the results feel largely unearned. Katara is one of the strongest personalities in the show, determined, kind, and fiery. In many ways, she is the unpredictability of water - equally dangerous as it is necessary to live. She is the child of a war who lost her mother, forced to grow up too soon, and even raised her older brother. Yes, Katara often gets stereotyped as the mom friend, but overall she feels underutilized in this show. We really don't see enough of her journey until the very end.

Iroh: Iroh was always comedic but most importantly wise. Even when Zuko is trying to give himself advice, he mimics Iroh. Instead, he seems to be used more as comedic relief without the underlying experience. He just doesn't feel right. Also, he kills Zhao instead of Zhao getting himself killed - which is less about Iroh and more about the writing than anything.

Ozai is weirdly a little too nice. Yes, he burned Zuko and pits his kids against each other, but he feels toned down in a show claiming to be more mature than the original cartoon.

Azula is perhaps more realistically worried about losing her status as the golden child, but she is also missing the cruelty she and her father share. I understand worrying about making your character cartoonishly evil, but the Fire Nation is currently a deeply nationalistic empire trying to control the world. Where is the deep-seated belief that they are better than other people, not just trying to bring balance to the world? There is a line between creating complexity and toning down the very real evil inherent in this plan.

Roku: I can only say what the fuck was that. He was barely there, and not the serious master to Aang's youthful exuberance.

The Ugly

Show, Don't Tell: The show's single biggest issue seems to be speeding through story parts by simply stating things. Instead of allowing the audience to discover, trusting that we are smart enough to understand, let's just blatantly say things like Zuko is the only reason the 41st division is alive to their faces. Even though in the context of the story Ozai literally already said that.... it's the division, the division for Zuko, Zuko's division.

Thematic Misunderstandings: I think this show makes several minor changes with major implications, such as airbenders actively fighting the firebenders, when airbenders are known for their pacifist nature and the lie of an Airbender fighting force is actively propaganda. Similarly, Aang very quickly accepts his role as the avatar and doesn't even run away in the beginning. Without this conflict between his desire to be a carefree child and the fact that the world needs him - the show loses a key aspect of Aang's character. Also, the obsession with downplaying the avatar state as something dangerous feels like a disservice to the tradition, connection, and strength of the avatar, which can be permanently destroyed as the trade-off for that kind of power. It's dangerous for the balance of the entire world, not just because it's powerful!

The Agni Kai: Zuko's fight against his father is one of the defining moments of Ozai's cruelty, not just because he is willing to fight his child, but because Zuko tried to do everything right. Zuko shows deference to his father, apologizes, and most importantly refuses to fight! The determination not to upset his father and still be grievously injured and banished is a hugely important theme for the fire nation and Zuko's life as a whole. He tries to do everything he is supposed to and only regains his father's acceptance after he "kills" Aang. Zuko's struggle between moral vs. social right and wrong in contrast to his family is hugely important to his character.

-----

TLDR: ATLA was a fantastical animated television show that was never afraid to show character development and flaws. When you turn 20 episodes into 8, you are bound to lose something. You hollowed out the middle, leaving the shell of important moments and events without ever wondering if all the times in between formed the true spirit of the show.

Rating: 6.5/10 It's perfectly fine and worth a watch. Not a disaster, but certainly falls flat of the original.

[patrophthia]

hey emo boy! | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

⇒ summary: you’re bored, and theodore’s kinda (really) in love with you so he lets you do whatever you want to his face —including a somewhat emo make over

wc: 0.8k

genre: established relationships! fluff, whipped theo (like so so down bad), super incredibly self indulgent, reader wears make up (no specified gender here really), the slightest bit suggestive, they’re 🤢🤢 in love 🤢🤢🤢

i wrote this at 12am and was delirious and insane, that’s the aesthetic, yes.

Oh Salazar, he's too far gone now.

Theodore thinks as he sat by your vanity, you between his thighs as you searched for the things you needed. When you brought up the idea of a make over, Theodore's first instinct was to say no.

But he loves you way too much for his own good and just went along with it. It's not like he regrets his decision (that he kind of didn't want to make in the first place), he's just hesitant about it.

He's seen you do your make up before and you without a doubt, always end up looking stunning —but then again, he thinks you're breathtaking even when you were sick and had snot dripping off of your nose so he doesn't really trust his own judgment.

He's a bit biased, maybe. But when you were as lovely as you were, and was proudly calling yourself his significant other. Could you really blame him?

"Okay I need your eyes open for this," you said distractedly, your right hand busying with an eyeshadow brush, the pallete on the other. "Try not to blink."

He does what he's told, eyes wide open: looking like a deer in headlights as you lean closer to his face. Both his hand goes up to your waist instinctively, settling themselves there as you worked.

You apply the shadow on his left eye first and even though he was incredibly tempted to look at what you've done, he held himself back from doing so. You wanted him to see the finished product and he will do exactly as you wanted.

You finish up his right eye and pull backwards, smiling at him with an all too pretty smile. "I'm going to kiss you now."

Theodore blinks, and before he could even process your words. You lean in, pressing a quick kiss; too short for his liking and reached behind you for the other products you needed.

If you heard him let out a small whine, neither of you paid attention to it. Only having sly smile as evidence of it ever happening.

"Now part your lips." He follows your instruction, and you began applying some lip product. It didn't take long for you to finish and Theo thinks he deserves another kiss for being so good for you.

Theo frowns when you turned and reached for something else. Didn't you always finish with lipstick? That was what you always did, wasn't it?

His frown only deepens when you turn back around, a small metal ring in your hand. "What's that?"

"A lip ring," you answered. Theodore startles, sure he trusts you, he trusts you with his life even, but a lip ring? Nope. At his no difference expression —that you knew well enough to locate the sheer panic in his eyes. You explain yourself. "It's fake, you can take it off after."

"But what if you like it on me?" He mumbles.

"Then I like it on you?" You parroted albeit a little confused.

"I don't want to take it off if you like it on me." Whipped. That's what he was.

You giggle at his words, "I like you for who you are Theo, a lip ring is not going to change that."

"But baby." His grip and your waist tightens and you remind yourself to take a cold shower after this. "I want to do this for you."

Yeah, you're definitely going to need a cold shower after this.

"And you are," you replied. "You're letting me dress you up aren't you?" Theodore nods slowly. "You're already doing this for me, now part your lips again."

He repeats his action and lets you slide the cold metal on top of his lips.

"And now the hair." There wasn't much you could really do for his hair, only pushing it back to somewhat resemble a mullet. When you're done, you pull back completely, letting his hands fall until they settled on your thighs. "Done."

They don't stay there for long though, Theodore pulling you into his lap and you letting him, both facing the mirror but his eyes stayed on you. "Can I look, baby?"

You nod and he presses a kiss to your temple, the cold metal leaving an impression on you that you wished didn't. Theodore turns to face the mirror, eyes widening in surprise. He clocks in the darkened shadows around his eyes, messy but precise. His lips a nice flattering tint of pink with the silver ring resting on top of it. He thinks he looks nice, handsome even. Okay, he admits, maybe he did have a reason for you to give him this make over.

Especially if it had you squirming on his lap.

"What do you think?" You ask.

His voice is low as always. "I think we should do this more often."

And to that, you agree.

— from bee: blame it on these pics of dino please it’s his fault, this is all lee chan (from svt) fault, yes

[dixons-sunshine]

Go To Prom With Me? | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: You wanted to go to prom, but you knew that Daryl didn't want to. Due to that fact, you reassured him that it was okay, and that you wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable. Daryl, in an attempt to cheer you up, did something that meant more to you than any real prom would ever mean.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre Apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: One swear word.

Word count: 1.4k.

A/n: Requested by @walkingtalkingsomething. I hope you like this!

Daryl knew you wanted to go to prom. Despite your steadfast denial that you didn't, he knew you did. He could see it in the way you eyed the prom posters in the hallways at school. He could see it in the way you stared longingly at the prom dresses you saw in the magazines your mom bought for you. He could see it in the way your cheerful smile would falter slightly whenever one of your friends at school would gush about the dresses they bought for the momentous occasion. You wanted to go to prom so badly.

Yet you gave up on that dream, all because you loved him and didn't want to go without him.

Daryl felt like absolute crap for taking that once in a lifetime opportunity away from you. He had tried to talk himself into sucking it up for one night. You were his girlfriend, for crying out loud. He could offer up one measly night if it meant you'd be happy. Hell, he had even planned on saying yes when you had brought it up a week prior, but his mouth had worked faster than his brain. He had said no, and even though you reassured him that it was okay, he could see the way your mood had deflated.

Ever since that day, he had been working tooth and nail to find a way to make it up to you. It was too late to buy prom tickets, though, so he had to think of something else. And he did. He just hoped that his efforts were enough to make you happy, just like you deserved.

“Where are we going?” you asked for seemingly the hundredth time since Daryl had dragged you from your trailer. You were under the impression that the two of you were going on a date to the local burger joint a few miles away from the trailer park. That's what he had told you. That's why you had decided to dress a little nicer; a mid length pale yellow dress that hugged you in all the right ways, a jacket to shield yourself from the slight chill in the air, and sandals to match the aesthetic. If you couldn't go to prom, you'd at least still dress up for your date with your boyfriend.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your boyfriend's lips, a smile that you couldn't see. Daryl had dressed a bit nicer as well, opting instead for a pair of jeans that didn't have any holes in them, and a nice, blue button down shirt that he had scraped money together to buy just for this occasion, that was however shielded beneath the jacket he wore. He was also wearing his nicest pair of sneakers. He had to admit, he did look rather nice. You had seemed to agree with him, because if your hungry stare was anything to go off of, his attire was doing him wonders.

“I jus' gotta show ya somethin' first 'fore we go. Jus' be patient, Princess. I promise s'worth the wait.” He was rather proud of himself for finding a way to throw you off from figuring out his intended destination. He had specifically mapped out a path he knew you wouldn't recognize, all so that he can make the surprise better. If he had taken the regular route, you would've figured out his plans, no doubt about it.

You scoffed, but couldn't help the small smile that spread across your face when Daryl reached over to gently interlace his fingers with yours. “I wish you would've told me that we would be hiking through the woods before our date. I would've worn something more appropriate for the outdoors, and not a dress with sandals.”

“Nah, ya look great. Wouldn't want ya to change,” Daryl replied honestly. “'Sides, we're almost there. S'jus' through those bushes. But first, I wanna ask ya somethin'.” He let go of your hand and reached down to pluck a beautiful daisy from the forest floor. He tucked the flower behind your ear before gently taking hold of both of your hands, his voice soft and sincere. “Go to prom with me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?” you inquired confusedly, your eyes searching his for answers to the millions of questions running through your mind, faster than the speed of light.

Daryl adapted a more nervous stature, his smile becoming more bashful. His cheeks blazed alight with a red colour, but he powered through his embarrassment. He cleared his throat and slowly began to lead you through the bushes, chuckling when a surprised gasp escaped your chest. “Will ya go to prom with me?” Daryl repeated his earlier question, his voice incredibly close to your ear as he stood behind you.

The sight that beheld you was incredible; a small picnic had been set up, rose petals scattered across the ground surrounding the blanket. Soft music was playing from the portable CD player, the exact one you had gifted to Daryl for his birthday a year prior, due to his walkman breaking. A few lanterns hung from the nearby tree, illuminating the scene with a beautiful gold glow. A single bouquet of roses sat in the middle of the blanket, messily sorted into the plastic that held it in place. Daryl had clearly arranged it himself, which made it even more special. And to top it off, it had all been set up by the river.

Your spot.

You turned to Daryl and pulled him in for a kiss, hoping to convey both your appreciation for his efforts and your love for him with the action. Daryl returned the kiss with a fervor of his own, his arms moving to wrap around your waist. The kiss ended too soon for his liking, but when you pulled back and looked up at him with that radiant smile of yours, he knew that he wouldn't want to miss that. His efforts had paid off, it seemed.

“Yes,” you spoke softly as your eyes started to get watery. “Yes, I'll go to prom with you. You didn't even have to ask.” You leaned your forehead against his, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “You did all of this for me?”

Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. “Figured s'the least I could do. I couldn't man up and take ya to the real thing, so I improvised and did this. Certainly ain't nothin' much, but—”

“It's perfect,” you whispered. “It's so perfect. I couldn't ask for better than this.”

Daryl smiled and pulled back, extending a hand towards you. “May I have this dance, Gorgeous?”

You giggled softly and nodded. “Of course you may,” you replied as you slipped your hand into his, allowing him to pull you closer and begin to sway to the soft music that the CD player emitted. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head against his chest, while Daryl rested his hands on your hips and rested his chin on top of your head.

The two of you stayed in each other's embrace for a while, simply swaying to the music. However, after a while, Daryl broke the silence. “M'sorry I couldn't take ya to the prom,” he apologized sincerely. “I know this ain't what ya wanted, but I hope s'enough to make up for it.”

“It's more than enough,” you reassured him in a soft whisper. “It's way better. I love it. Almost as much as I love you.”

Daryl smiled softly. “I love ya more, Sunshine.” He pulled away from your embrace and gently took your hand in his. “C'mon, let's eat somethin'. I've got somethin' else planned for later.” He lead you over to the blanket and picked up the bouquet of roses, slowly extending it to you with a nervous smile. “I, uh...” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I didn't have money to buy ya a nice one, so I had to pick 'em and arrange 'em myself.”

“Thank you.” You smiled while taking the bouquet from him, smelling the sweet scent of the roses. “It's perfect.”

“Not as perfect as ya, that's for sure,” he told you with a nonchalant shrug. “Now c'mon, let's eat. I got yer favourite.”

“I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

A beat of silence passed before he responded. “And I love ya, Y/N Y/L/N. So fuckin' much.”

[mrsparrasblog]

Makarov X Price Daughter pt.2

Pt 1 pt.3

You woke up with the worst headache of your life. Did you drink too much yesterday? You didn't remember drinking at all, only meeting the most handsome man you ever saw in your life who was interested in you and charming. When you slowly shifted in bed, you felt some difference. Your bed felt more comfortable and not so small anymore. It wasn't your usual twin-sized bed; it was a king-sized bed and very comfortable. Did you go to his place yesterday and forget?

You opened your eyes and gasped. This was definitely not your home. The room you stayed in was gigantic. The bed sheets were made of satin, and not the poor ones, but expensive satin, and they were pink. The whole room was to your aesthetic. Were you dreaming? You must have. You wiggled your legs away from the satin sheets, noticing the pajamas you wore. You didn't remember buying this. Just a dream.

As you jumped out of the comfortable bed, the dream turned into a nightmare. There were four military men pointing guns at you. "Куда, по-вашему, вы направляетесь?"

Russian. Your mysterious bachelor from yesterday was Russian too, but it couldn't be. He was so nice. You whined as you replied, tears streaming down from your face onto your soft cheeks. "Sir, I don't understand Russian."

They rolled their eyes at you and chuckled. They didn't speak with you, only gesturing for you to sit down and point their guns at you, and you obeyed. You remembered how your dad always told Tina, If someone points a gun at you, listen. He never told you anything about how to save your life in these kinds of situations. It is ironic to think that you were in this situation. You asked your dad once if he'd teach you how to shoot a gun, but he said things like that wouldn't be for girls like you, more for girls like Tina.

After sitting in the same spot for an hour, Vlad really entered the door. "Princess, were my guards too ruthless, or why do you cry?"

You couldn't believe how naive you were. Of course, a man like him had ulterior motives when he flirted with you. "Why are your guards pointing a gun at me?"

"Oh, Princess, are you scared?"

You only nodded and gasped when his reaction to your nod was to shoot one of his guards in the head. The blood splattered on the remaining two guards and on the soft white carpet. You were horrified. You had never seen someone get killed in front of you, and you were scared out of your life. He killed his own man without any remorse.

"Sorry, Princess, about the mess, but you don't need to be scared. I'll always protect you," he said with a sinister smile as if he really thought he was my protector, but he wasn't. He was a psychopath.

"Why am I here?"

"You know your dad pissed me off, and I wanted to teach him a lesson, but I'm a man of resources, and your ass is worth enough not to be killed. Besides, I'd like to see John Price begging to spare your life."

You didn't know why, but you laughed. You got kidnapped for your dad, who didn't even make time to come to your birthday, as if he had time to save you from Vlad. "I think you got the wrong daughter for that. That will be my death, and my father won't care enough to save the biggest disappointment in his life."

"Oh, Princess, I know that you think your daddy hates you and loves your ugly little sister, but want to know a secret?" He grinned, his eyes darkening.

You only nodded. You thought you didn't want to know, but you would agree with everything. Vlad didn't seem like the guy to tolerate your sassiness.

"Tina isn't his."

"What?"

"Yes, your annoying stepmom cheated."

"My life is a joke."

He screamed at you, "I don't tolerate negativity towards yourself. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Vlad."

"Good girl," he purred, nipping at your neck. He wasn't someone who showed care or ever felt affection before, but he was always possessive, never sharing, not even as a kid. So, this was his way to go: marking your neck, showering you with gifts, and showing everyone touching you would get them killed—and not in a merciful way. He didn't know why or what spell you put him under, but you occupied his mind. He was almost close to killing you for it, but he had better things in mind—more selfish things for you. "You know, my princess, I have big plans for you."

"It's beautiful," you said flatly, not wanting to satisfy him to much.

He grabbed your wrist roughly and walked you to a second room, a walk-in closet. How rich was this guy? There was everything you could have imagined—everything from your Pinterest board. And everything was straight-up luxury: Louboutins, YSL heels, Chanel dresses, Cartier jewelry, and a Birkin bag. Who is this guy?

"Is this—"

"I almost needed to kill someone for that stupid bag, but everything for you, princess," he said. The sound of his flickering tongue made your stomach grumble.

"You can't buy my love!" You screamed, your emotions pent up, and you started to cry again.

He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you down into the basement of this mansion, showing you a dark and cold room. "Stop being ungrateful, or I'll let you rot here." He didn't need to prove anything. You knew he was ruthless by the way he killed his own men.

"I'm sorry, Vlad."

"Good girl," he purred, nipping at your neck. He wasn't someone who showed care or ever felt affection before, but he was always possessive, never sharing, not even as a kid.

So, this was his way to go: marking your neck, showering you with gifts, and showing everyone touching you would get them killed—and not in a merciful way. He didn't know why or what spell you put him under, but you occupied his mind. He was almost close to killing you for it, but he had better things in mind—more selfish things for you.

"You know, my princess, I have big plans for you."

"Kill me and send my corpse to my dad?" You said it sarcastically, and he smirked at your response.

"You know this is my empire, and every good empire needs its queen."

"No."

"Oh, you think you have a say in this? You will fall in love with me anyway, pathetic little girl."

He grabbed you and pushed you deeper into him, the tip of his finger gliding around your bottom lip, savoring the slickness from your trembling lips before kissing you forcefully. He wasn't a man who kissed without ulterior motives normally, always feeling disgusted by this. But right now, he wanted to claim every inch of you, showing you that you are indeed his.

Like a reflex, you leaned into his kiss, feeling the need to savor this moment. He could have only asked you out, and you would have agreed, but now you're his plaything.

Tag list: @multifand0midi07 , @whos-fran