#LIKE DARKER THAN TRUE COLORS DARK

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Is it so hard to ask that sabo follow his dream he had when he was a kid? IS IT??????

Also, his boat was commissioned from Franky! And he did a great job :)

Design talk:

Im gonna start with just sharing his canon designs

Colors:

Something i want to call attention to is the blue and black in his design.

When he was young, Sabo wore his heart on his sleeve. He had a dream for himself and was taking steps to complete it. Likewise, that blue on his coat is on full display its bright and vibrant and saturated. But also theres that dark blue, almost black, thats underneath it thats being hidden by that coat, the pants, and his tattered cravat. Likewise again, Sabo is hiding his darker side. He has secrets he doesn’t want his brothers to know of and he lets his aspirations and relationships he has with them outshine his past.

In his present design, that blue that was representative of his dreams, is now the one being hidden. Its covered by a complete black coat, a representative of the darkness in his life that now is drives him. This color switch up is symbolic for how he’s put off his dreams and kept it locked up (belt), while choosing instead to pursue a life of darkness for the greater good.

Also, these pictures of young sabo and young adult sabo, you can visually see how less saturated it is. The blue is duller of the coat/undershirt and even more-so with the pants. You can see how he’s much less vibrant than how he was.

In my Post-Story idea, what happens leading up to it is that Sabo succeeds in taking down the world government and after he’s sure the world can move on without him, he goes sailing alone as a pirate to write a book about the world, like he’s always wanted to do. Also, Luffy returns his straw hat to shanks.

So in my design, sabo wears a vibrant blue coat again. He’s living his dream and has nothing holding him back from doing it. The black is still used, and its not being covered, but its on his pants and his gloves. He still has that darkness, but he doesn’t use it as protection or as something to hide, rather as something he moves forwards and progresses with. He will never forget what pain and hardship he went through and he’s not trying to. However, whats underneath all the layers is not darkness or dreams, and its not necessarily being hidden either, its light. Not BRIGHT, but light. Mellow and calm. The settled true nature of a healed man.

I took more colors from his child design than i did with his young adult (YA) one, too. I wanted to show how he’s reconnecting with his younger self by bringing them through to his Post-Story look!

Also, since his journal is his dream, it is blue, as well.

———

Items of Clothing:

In both of his canon designs, there is a sense of properness. A top hat, cravat, tailcoat, etc etc.. Its all properness. But more than that, its the idea of responsibility.

Whether he acts responsible or not isn’t what matters in his case, instead its that he wants to look responsible. He wants this because a) he was a little kid who wanted to grow up too fast and be taken seriously, and b) because he has an incredible amount of responsibility being the second in command of the revolutionary army.

To further prove that, I would like to point out his silly little cravat. I love his cravat. But how the hell is that practical for his line of work? Sabo is concerned with being practical, hence his baggy/movable pants and leather gloves. Additionally, just the waist/trench coat, belt, top hat combo would suffice for a proper looking person, but it’s taken excessively with the cravat. The cravat is purely for appearances.

Further symbolism with his cravat, i think, is that this appearance is visually choking him. Its wrapped tightly around his neck when he was a child and when he was most under control of a much higher power. However, when he’s a YA, it’s a lot looser. He’s got some agency, but he’s still being suffocated by responsibilities.

On with my design.

I took away his cravat. Im sorry but it is SYMBOLIC!!!!!!! He is not worried anymore with appearances, he is Free.

I took away his top hat but not his goggles, too. I think that after Luffy gives back the straw hat, Sabo forgoes his hat as well. In solidarity, maybe. If you think about it, the top hat isnt what makes his hat so special, its the goggles. So i got rid of the hat and kept The Goggs. Although it is sad that they are no longer Hatted, as that is one of the beautiful appeals of ASL, they are no longer ASL.

I wanted to keep aspects of his YA design, since even though it is very perforative, its still a style that he’s stuck with since childhood, so he’s gotta like it in some capacity. I just tried to make everything look a lot looser/open on him.

Lastly, i gave him a bit of a beard cuz i think he deserves it.

———

Alright! If you got this far, thanks so much for reading my insane ramblings!!!! I fr feel like this rn 👇

Visually, sabo’s design is not too complex, at least not when you look at him next to Ace, but theres a lot of depth to it. I didnt even think of half of these notes before i started typing this up, its just the more time i look at it, the more i noticed!

#my art #one piece #monkey d. luffy #sabo #asl brothers #one piece fan art #sabo the revolutionary #post story au

[star-sim]

hello kitty meets batman (real not clickbait!) ☆ jake sim

☆ youtuber! super down bad! bf! jake x youtuber! fem! reader ☆summary: jake sim was youtube's cut-throat, horror creator, known for his dark video style. meanwhile, you were the cutesy beauty vlogger, lighting up every algorithmically generated home page you touched. no one would have expected you two vastly different people to know each other, let alone be in a long-term relationship. ☆ genre: fluff, youtuber! au, secret dating! au, established relationship, suggestive, im sorry im never letting the ytber au go, cutesy!reader, jake is SO down bad its kinda painful #patheticmen ☆warning(s): no, just fluffy, also reader is really feminine and girly in this ☆ word count: 13.4k words ☆ wrote half of this in spanish class so im sorry if there are mistakes, first time writing established relationship in full, kinda nervy

Jake Sim was many things.

One of the most popular and well-respected content creators on Youtube was one of them.

As Jake's nimble fingers darted across his keyboard, his other hand rested firmly on his mouth, he thought that the blue light emitting from his computer screen should burn his eyes. Except, it didn't. Despite what most people thought, 90% of being Youtuber was just simply staring at a computer screen, rather than being in front of a camera lens. The man felt his nose prickle before he let out a soundless, but satisfying, yawn. He leaned back against his office chair, stretching his neck and arms before he rubbed his eyes.

There was a reason that he was an extremely respected creator on Youtube.

For one, the production quality of his videos were high. Down to the Closed Captions or his camera's grain, Jake's attention to detail was immaculate. Not to mention, the content itself was magnificent. 

Whenever people asked Jake what he did for work, it was hard for him to answer.

He'd said that he made horror content, but he'd only earned incredulous looks, like he was a madman. Even then, "horror" content wasn't the correct description.

In short, Jake liked to make videos about obscure things. Which just so happened to be a little spooky. Sketchy true crime cases, searches for lost media, strange Internet phenomena, government cover-ups— Name anything a little bit eerie and Jake probably already covered something of that sort on his channel. Given the nature of his content, Jake almost always maintained a serious tone, but when the opportunity came to offer his opinion, he liked to relay it in a straightforward way. 

Another reason why he was so regarded was because of his content style. He preferred using darker colors, having a crisp microphone that picked up every rasp of his deeper voice. When he had camera shots, Jake liked to be in a dimly lit room. Unfortunately, his room was dark, too. 

This all combined together to create a singular image for Jake: the cool, high-quality, but a little bit scary, guy that likes to make videos about scary topics.

Now cracking his knuckles, Jake sucked in a sharp breath. Although he could easily export his upcoming video now and upload it, garnering millions of views, he refused to. There was something missing from it; it needed a little umph, a little embellishment to really pull things together. If there was one thing about Jake, it was that he'd put quality over quantity any day.

Jake is torn out of his thoughts when his phone, long forgotten next to his mouse, lit up. Usually, when he worked long afternoons like this, he silenced his phones in order to maintain focus.

However, there was always one exception.

You.

pretty girl: hi babe, do you think you can help me take promo pictures later?

The moment that Jake saw your contact show up, he picked up his phone immediately. His fingers tapped his screen, quickly responding to you.

me: yeah i can do it rn if you want

pretty girl: if youre busy, it doesn't need to be today, it can be tomorrow or something

pretty girl: oh

pretty girl: are you sure?

Of course he was.

Jake was already shutting off his monitor, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes at your first message.

me: yeah i'll come over right now

You were Jake Sim's girlfriend. But other than the people in your personal life, no one else knew that.

Not that either of you minded.

Like Jake, you were a Youtuber. Except, your community was the complete opposite from his.

Your niche was cute makeup and lifestyle. Your videos had cute, blushy sets, characterized by cute plushies in the background and pretty, pink decorations. When you weren't making makeup tutorials or "get ready with me's," you were giving your viewers small sneak-peeks into your life. Whether it be your rosy morning skincare, or your sunny afternoon cooking attempts, or your illuminated late night thoughts, your content was light-hearted, soft, and personable. 

And if you weren't doing any of those things, you were modeling.

You were a beauty influencer, so you had sponsors from different makeup companies and such. What was most distinguishable from your personal brand was that you were one of Sanrio's biggest ambassadors. If there was someone that was the living embodiment of Hello Kitty, it was you.

Your personability, and your ability to feel authentic to your viewers, was a key factor in your large viewerbase. And what contributed to that the most was the fact that you had no idea how to use a camera. One would think that a content creator would know how to use a camera, but you were somehow the exception.

Not a problem!

Because you had your boyfriend, Jake!

Who was basically the master of content creation and film, in your opinion.

"Jakey!" you pounced on your boyfriend the moment he appeared at your apartment doorway. You threw your arms around his neck, immediately peppering his neck and cheeks with kisses. You heard him let out a few chuckles, feeling the rumble of his strong chest as he did. 

"Geez, babe, let me take my shoes off first," Jake teased you, taking in your sweet strawberry perfume. You immediately peeled yourself off of him, your lips forming a cute frown. 

"Shut up," you murmured, punching him on the arm while you jutted your bottom lip out. The lip tint and gloss on them shined, which made Jake grin. And when you noticed that he was staring at your lips, you gave him a gentle shove before saying again, “Shut up, Jakey.”

There it was, his favorite thing about you.

You were so, very, really, undeniably, mean to him.

Okay, that sounded weird.

But it was the truth.

Your relationship could be summed up in a few words—

You were just the cutest, and could barely contain your feelings for Jake, so you'd get all cuddly and affectionate with him. He'd tease you about it, so you'd get all shy and flustered, and you would begin to be mean to him. You'd call him stupid or annoying, and you'd tell him to go away but make no effort to resist his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And then he would get to tease you more, until you were so embarrassed that you relented and let him kiss you.

How could he not resist teasing you?

You were always so pretty, with makeup or not, and it was easy to tease you since you got embarrassed so easily.

Even if he was holding his most expensive camera in his hands, he'd still let you pounce on him, if it meant that he got one extra kiss from you.

You led him to your bedroom. It had the same sweet, strawberry scent as you. Your room was pink, and along the walls were shelves, all filled with the many, many plushies that Jake bought you. Plopping onto your bed, Jake watched as you dug around your filming desk.

"Sooo," he started, "You're gonna do a promotional post on Instagram?"

You hummed. Sanrio recently launched a new line of lip tints, and they sent you their newest ones to review and promote. 

"I already made a review, and it's going to go up later," you said, digging through your drawers. "I want to make a promo post, too, y'know?"

You let out an 'a-ha!' as you found what you were looking for. It was a tube of lip-tint, the newest one from the collection. You then touched up your makeup a little more. 

Jake watched you in awe. The way you applied lip gloss and brushed setting powder (or was it blush? he didn't know anything about makeup) onto your cheeks was so mesmerizing, as you weren't already so captivating to him.

Finally, you stood up, straightening out your outfit. You puckered your lips, and when you noticed Jake staring at you, you gave him a little twirl.

"How do I look?" you asked. 

Jake, with his camera in hand, pointed the lens at you. He looked through the viewfinder.

"Beautiful." 

As always.

The shoot went smoothly. As you always did when Jake was your photographer, the two of you drove to the film studio, renting out a room for a good hour. Jake was a pro with the camera and you were an even bigger pro at modeling. Other than a few compositional edits or changes in exposure, you and Jake were done as soon as you started. The two of you decided that you’d go back to your place, cook dinner together, and maybe watch a movie.

Except that got delayed.

“Y-You’re so annoying, Jake,” you struggled out. You were in the back seat of your car, legs thrown over your boyfriend’s hips, his soft lips connected to your neck. Your fingers gently tugged on his hair, you yourself pressing soft pecks against his forehead and temples. It started because you gave Jake a kiss on the cheek as a ‘thank you,’ which spiraled into a makeout session in your car.

“What,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flickering up to yours. “You said you’d do anything to express your thanks for me.”

Jake kissed your neck again, before trailing up your throat to your jaw. Your fingers raked through his soft hair, pushing his dark locks out of his face so that you could see his face clearly. Jake reached up, took your hand out of his hair, and instead held your palm against his cheek, nuzzling into your warm hand. The way your eyes widened into saucers, lips parting, in response made the man’s lips curve upward.

“W-Well I thought you’d ask me to hug you… or something,” you said sheepishly, your voice soft as your boyfriend’s actions flustered you.

Jake grinned to himself internally before pulling away from you altogether. 

“Then do you want to stop?” Your eyes widened a fraction. “Then, let’s go hom—“

“No!” you cut him off, your hands squeezing his shoulders. “Let’s not!”

You stared at him, brows furrowed, for a few moments, before you noticed the growing grin on your boyfriend’s face. That look you knew too well, the one that said that he was going to tease the everlasting fuck out of you.

Jake pulled you in by the waist, close enough so that your chests touched, noses almost brushing against each other. He could feel the heat radiating off your face, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“You sure you don’t wanna stop?” His voice was teasing, but you knew better. The earnest look in his eyes, you stared into yours, was filled with sincerity. He gave your waist a squeeze, almost as if to ask, “Do you actually want this?”

“Yes, Jakey,” you breathed against his lips, matter-of-factly. “I don’t wanna stop.”

The corner of his lips begin to lift.

“So you better kiss me,” you quipped, gripping his shoulders.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he rasped back, before attacking your lips.

(Later, when you were done, you two went home and went about your plan for the night. Except, you had to yell at Jake to go wash his face, because the sight of your lipstick at the corner of his lips was too much for you to take.)

"Hi, everyone!" you greeted the camera, folding your hands in your lap. With your thick, pink, knit sweater's sleeves falling over your wrists, you shot the lens a pretty smile. It was another normal day on the job of making content.

"As you guys know, VidCon is coming up soon." You pulled your makeup pouch toward your chest, leaning against the edge of your filming desk. "So, let's pack with me!"

Vidcon was an event for people to meet all of their favorite Youtubers. This year, you were invited to be one of the featured creators, given your popularity. As you filmed your "Pack with Me!" vlog, surrounded by ring lights aided by your windows cracked open, you recalled the email you had sent earlier, squeezing your eyes shut.

You see, Jake and you were both invited to VidCon. Since no one else, not even Youtube the corporation or your fellow Youtubers, knew that you guys were dating, Jake and you were given vastly different things. Youtube booked an entire hotel complex for all of its creators, and unfortunately, your room was located 10 floors below Jake's room. And worse, your booths and events were so far apart from each other that you probably wouldn't even see your boyfriend even if he decided to traverse the Convention. 

That's what you got for being vastly different content creators.

This year would be the first year that you and Jake got invited to VidCon, and you two wanted to share this experience with each other as much as possible.

Which is why you just shot Youtube one of the most embarrassing emails of your life.

"Hi, Youtube. The hotel complex you booked has a bar, and it is much closer to the top than the bottom. I really want to visit that bar. Can I request a room change so that my room is maybe on the 15th or 16th floors?" except add more formalities and much more discreet language, and that was the email you sent to your employers. You knew that it wouldn't be hard, and that the Youtube PR manager wouldn't reject your request. After all, you were the Sanrio beauty girl. Regardless, you'd gotten a response about an hour ago, and your request was approved, luckily. 

As you continued talking to your camera, folding your clothes neatly while chatting to your viewers about updates in your life, you thought about what you and Jake should do at VidCon. It was in the LA area, but you definitely wanted to visit other places in Southern California. 

It was no surprise that you and Jake had been more than touchy and close to each other. You were dating. Still, butterflies formed in your stomach as you thought about what you would do with him. Your face heated up at the thought of you and him spending time together in the hotel's rooftop hot-tub. The idea of him sneaking in your room at night, warming you up and pepperinging your cheeks with kisses, made your heart rate speed up, and you could only relish in the thought of exploring LA, Irvine, or wherever Jake wanted to take you with him.

You were a grown woman with a job and responsibilities, but the mere thought of your boyfriend being within the same vicinity as you made you nervous.

Just as you finished folding your clothes, you heard your front door crack open.

"Babe?" you hear Jake's voice call out your name. You turn off your camera to greet him, swearing to forget all of the thoughts you just had. Except, the moment that you locked eyes with him, all determination to not be teased left your body. Your lips wobbled, trying to bite back that stupid, bashful, and lovesick smile that made its way onto your face when you thought about Jake, but your eyes gave it all away. Instead of throwing yourself at him like you usually did, you only reached for the hem of his black T-shirt, playing with it sheepishly. 

You mumbled a small, "Hi."

You could feel Jake staring at you, and you could hear the way his lips curve into a smug, shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," you told him, your eyebrows crashing together.

"Baby, I didn't even say anything," Jake said, his hands finding their place on your lower back.

You felt shy and exposed before him. "Well, I know you're going to say something."

Jake grasped your chin, gently making you look at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible to avoid those dreamy, caramel eyes. Then, he took your face with both his hands, leaning in.

Was he going to kiss you? Oh my god, he was! Quick! What do you do? You felt like you were going to melt.

Instinctively, your hands tightened on the hem of his shirt, the black fabric scrunching in your fists. You closed your eyes, your lips softly puckering. You could feel him coming closer and closer, until his breath fanned your cheek.

As if he hadn't kissed you a million times before, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. 

Jake ghosted his lips over yours, inching just close enough that he could brush his lip against yours. 

And then, he pulled away from you. He took off his shoes, placed down his keys, and made his way into your bedroom, leaving you there standing alone.

Heat spread across your face and neck and ears as you realized your boyfriend had just teased you once again. You hid your face in your palms, letting out a small whine of embarrassment, before recollecting yourself and joining your boyfriend.

"Woah, what's going on here, babe?" Jake asked, standing at your bedroom doorway. 

"Oh." There was clothes and film equipment sprawled across your floor and bed. "I was filming a video."

You saw Jake's expression twitch, before he took your hands in his.

"My bad, was I interrupting something?" He was sincere in how his face showed a small drop of guilt for disrupting your filming. How could someone be such a tease one moment yet be so genuine the next?

"No, it's okay, Jakey," you said. "I mean, I need to finish my video, but I don't mind if you're around."

And that's how you found yourself trying not to burst out laughing as you filmed your video. Jake kept making funny faces at you, that goofy grin growing on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Jake, stop making faces!" you laughed, throwing a shirt at him.

He dodged it, throwing his head back into one of the plushies that he bought you. "I'm not doing anything!"

You threw another shirt at him, this time hitting him square in the face. Instead of admitting defeat, Jake only grabbed your shirt, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking a long, dramatic, sniff. 

"You smell sooooo good, babe," he said, ignoring your contorted expression, "I think I'm gonna keep this. You won't mind, right?"

"Ugh, Jaaaaakee!"

You plopped on top of him in bed. You felt his chest rumble as chuckles left his lips, rolling your eyes at him. You gave his chest a smack, a pout forming on your lips.

"You're so annoying," you mumbled as his hands slithered up to your hips. He gave your ass a pat, gesturing you to adjust your position. You did, sitting up so that you straddled your boyfriend's hips.

"And you're so pretty," he said, squeezing your hipbone.

"Let go of me," you poked him in the chest, but made no attempt to get off of him. 

"No."

"I need to finish my video," you pouted, still not moving to get off of him. 

"I don't care." Jake instead sat up on his elbows, his hands sliding down to your lower back, his face getting suspiciously close to your boobs. "Just lay with me."

Your fingers ran through his dark locks, before giving them a tug towards your chest. Jake laid his cheek against your boobs like they were pillows, arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and neck. The next thing you knew, he was pressing sticky kisses against your chest and neck, soft gasps escaping your lips.

"Sorry, babe," he muttered against the shell of your ear, "I just can't resist you."

You let out a soft "ahhh!" when he bit down on your skin, his teeth brushing against the nape of your neck. Jake briefly pulled away, a smirk making its way onto his face as he admired the red-purple mark on your neck. 

"You're just too addicting."

Long story short, your video was still finished and uploaded. As Jake edited his video, he let yours play in the background, your bright voice illuminating his dark room. Somehow, your voice was the only thing that made him focus. 

However, when he heard a familiar laugh— his laugh— in your video, Jake stopped in his tracks.

His mind flashed back to what happened the other day in your apartment, when he interrupted you during your filming.

"I don't know if I turned off my camera, Jake," you had purred as Jake's tongue dipped into your collarbone. At that point, both you and him were shirtless, hair disheveled and pupils blown out with desire. Jake remembered the electricity that ran through him as those words left your lips.

"Am I supposed to care?" he had muttered, trailing kisses down your chest. "If they hear us, that's not my problem."

It was almost like you, who edited your video, added that clip to tease him. 

Immediately, his cheeks began turning the brightest shade of red possible. If you were here, he would have only coughed and looked away shyly, but since he was alone, his embarrassment spread across his face like a wildfire. Jake almost never showed it when he was flustered, at least when he was around you. 

He hid his face in his palms, sucking in a sharp breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, warmth prickling his skin. You were going to be the death of him. He let out a small, lovesick giggle, one that his friends would flame him for. He couldn't help it, not if it was you. 

When he read the comments, still flustered out of his mind, he felt a twinge of disappointment when no one seemed to notice him. 

For some reason, Jake couldn’t help but want people to know that you were his. He knew that you and him kept your relationship private to preserve it, but he still wanted to show you off.

Except, one comment caught his eye.

“Wait, does [Name] have a boyfriend? Who laughed at 6:34?” it read. Jake’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. The warmth that spread across his chest as his lips pulled upwards. He almost wanted to jump on his bed and roll around while giggling like a schoolgirl, but he contained himself.

At the corner of his eye, Jake spotted a certain plushie. 

As you were a partner of Sanrio, for a time there was a Limited Edition [Name] plushie, clad in pink with a cute, ruffle-lace bow to top it all off. Of course he bought one the moment it launched. Jake preferred his room to be completely dark and black, but he liked to keep that plushie on his bed, and although he’d never admit it, he hugged it when he slept if you weren’t with him.

Would it be wrong of him to tease you back? After all, Jake still had to film the brand deal for his new video. 

Would it hurt to position the plushie just enough so that it was in frame? 

So that maybe someone would see it.

Vidcon came crashing on you and Jake like a meteor, and before the two of you knew it, you were in the venue, wringing your fingers as the event commenced.

Sometimes, it was difficult for you to comprehend the level of your popularity. Sure, the numbers that Youtube loved to display for you told you that you had millions watching you, but mere numerical figures were simply not enough for you to wrap your mind around.

Your schedule that day was simple: you were going to have a booth that you'd tend to for an hour or two, where your fans could take pictures with you and take a few freebies with them. Then, you'd go to your main event, which was in a smaller venue.

At your booth, where you sat currently, your personal table was set up in a very special way: your table was pink, and covered in a lacy, white tablecloth. Even the wall behind you was specifically painted pink and decorated with various Sanrio-esque decorations. You had stickers that you'd give out, as well as a Limited Edition Vidcon Sanrio plushie of you that people could buy. The pink polaroid decorated with Hello Kitty stickers hung around your neck with a pink lanyard. You genuinely looked like Sanrio and Hello Kitty vomited all over you, but you didn't mind. And plus, that didn't matter, because you were cute either way.

You were hit with pure surprise as multiple groups of fans came your way. The amount of people that came to you, rambling nervously about how much they loved you, how much they looked up to you, how much you inspired them and made their days better, made you feel light-headed. And very warm inside.

Jake was the one that did the talking for you (thank goodness!), but for some reason, you pushed through your usual shyness, instead wanting for people to come up to you and talk.

Your face lit up as one of your fans, a girl that looked around your age, maybe only a few years younger than you, approached you. You could tell by the Sanrio sticker of you on her phone case that she was most definitely here for you.

"Oh my gosh, hi [Name]!" She gazed at you with wide, glimmering eyes. 

Your initial reaction was surprise, but then you broke out into a smile. You cocked your head, fingers gripping the hem of your dress, both nervous and excited. "Hi, there."

You fan took one look at your face, and squealed. The way that she giggled, bouncing on her feet as she fangirled over you made warmth spread across your cheeks, getting shy and looking down briefly.

"I'm sorry, [Name]!" Your fan couldn't stop giggling, which you thought was very cute. It was now that you noticed the camera in your hand. "I just really love your content, and I'm just so excited to meet you in real life!"

You blinked at her a few times, before you smile only widened. 

"Don't worry about it!" you said, taking her free hand in yours. Your shyness melted away as your fan squealed again. "It really means a lot to me that you came out here to personally see me."

Your eyes flickered over to her camera, squeezing her hand and motioning to it with your other. "Can I...?"

She nodded enthusiastically, so you took her camera. Turn on the 'photo' setting, you posed for the camera, taking multiple pictures of yourself for her. You hoped that that would make up for your shyness. The two of you hugged, and you took many polaroids for her.

Almost immediately, after she left, you were tagged in a Twitter thread. It was that fan, reporting her experience with you.

"She was so much prettier in real life, I thought I was in heaven," her tweets detailed, "And [Name] was so sweet! It felt like I was meeting the real life Hello Kitty."

She posted the pictures you took on her camera, and then the videos. You couldn't help but grin like an idiot, especially at the comments (and the rapidly-accumulating likes and retweets).

"The way [Name] gets so shy is so cute!"

"I don't really watch beauty content but I love [Name] so much."

"She's like an actual Disney Princess."

You loved your fans, you really did. You were grateful for them, and you thought they were very cute. 

You were excited to see how Vidcon would treat you.

Jake was fighting.

He was fighting demons, wars, the little voices in his head.

Did you have to look so pretty today?

Jake's own event was an entire venue away from yours. He had a few events, so after his first one, he took a small break, where he looked through his notifications. 

Of course, the first thing he looked at was your texts. They were from a while ago, during his show when he didn't have his phone on him, so he responded to them now. He smiled at your cute texts, expressing how excited and happy you were. His heart jumped out of his chest when he saw the selfie you sent him: there you were, in all your cutesy Sanrio glory, smiling so prettily for him. Jake had to clasp his face to hide the stupid, love-struck grin that bled onto his face. 

"Oi, what're you giggling about?" Jake was interrupted by Jay, another one of his fellow horror Youtubers.

Jake immediately wiped his expression clean. "Nothing."

When he glanced back at his phone, that dumb grin began to form again.

Jay groaned. "This is so weird. It's like watching Batman smile."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake scoffed.

"I'm sayin' that you're basically Youtube's Batman," Jay scrunched his nose, "And it's weird seein' you all... smiley and stuff."

"I literally smiled earlier!"

"Not in the way that you did just now. I have a bad feeling about it."

"Shut up!"

Jake really tried his best to swallow back his pure admiration for you as he opened his phone screen again, but he failed miserably.

He wished he could see you right now. He loved to see his fans, he loved to talk to them about their shared interest: all things horror and obscure.

But Jake missed you right now.

His heart plummeted to his stomach, however, when he logged onto Twitter, and saw the worst hashtag he could ever think of: #[Name]isSoCute.

He agreed with it. No, he embraced that sentiment with every molecule in his being.

Just... he wished that he could see you right now. When he checked the tag and saw all the cute pictures that people took of you and the sweet experiences they had with you, he frowned— That should be him!

However, Jake actually saw the worst thing to ever materialize when he saw the top video under the tag.

It was a shaky video, starting off with a teenage boy walking up to you. In the background, he could hear your pretty voice in the background, exchanging small greetings and words with the poster. Jake was almost lost in his sheer love for you when his eyes narrowed. The boy in the video let out a little chuckle, before dropping a cheesy pick-up line on you.

"[Name], if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber." What made it worse was that you only giggled, leading the boy to drop a few other dumb pick-up lines. The camera panned up to you, showing you all smiley and bashful. Then, you and the boy hugged, before taking a few polaroids together.

Jake almost snapped his phone in half.

He understood better than anyone that you were a content creator just like him. It was part of the job to interact with fans, and given your character, of course you were sweet to them. He could tell that you were perfectly comfortable in the video, and that the kid probably was just joking around with his favorite Youtuber.

But did that stop Jake from mentally lambasting every single aspect of the video? Absolutely not.

Shaky camera, probably filmed on a phone, Jake's hands balled into fists, Fucked up aperture, exposure to low, bad mic.

Was he being a little immature? Yes, and Jake knew that. 

Though, Jake would admit that he agreed with a lot of comments and retweets under that post, hearting many of them in agreement.

"[Name] is such a cutie!" one read.

Absolutely.

"I love her so much," another read.

Me too, Jake thought.

"I want her so bad."

Just as Jake's finger hovered over the 'heart' button, he let out a small hmph. Did it annoy him that other people wanted you? Yes. But did he disagree with the comment? Nope. He pressed the "like" button.

He wanted to see you so bad. As Jake was queued up on stage, ready for his second event, he hoped that he could see you soon.

And his wish came true a few hours later.

It was now past noon, and Vidcon was in its (unofficial) intermission period, where a lot of the creators were now taking breaks. As Jake traversed the convention, he texted you trying to find a spot where the two of you could meet.

He passed the many booths and venues of his fellow Youtubers. The layout was unique in the way that Youtubers of similar genres were placed in similar areas. So when he started seeing Youtubers with bright makeup and problematic pasts, Jake knew that he was near you.

And lo and behold, soon he found you. Under the fluorescent light, you still glowed. There was some kind of halo around you as you turned over your shoulder, your face instantly brightening up as you spotted your boyfriend. You had a few fans that you were talking to at the moment, so you tended to them first, while Jake made his way over to you.

You and Jake agreed that you wouldn't make your relationship too obvious at Vidcon, but all of that was left forgotten the moment that Jake saw you. 

However, as you ran up to him, people couldn't help but stop and stare.

Why wouldn't they? You were the living embodiment of Sanrio, that one Hello Kitty girl, whereas Jake was that one guy that made scary content and was often shrouded in darkness, dubbed as Youtube's personal Batman. Absolutely no one would have expected to see the two of you interacting with one another, let alone be within the same vicinity.

"Hi, Jakey," you smiled up at him, and Jake thought that he could die right there. With the amount of people staring, Jake had to restrain himself from throwing his arms around you and hugging you.

"Hey, baby," he grinned. 

Before either of you could do anything, you and Jake were interrupted by a shrill squeal. You whipped your heads around to see a young girl and her older brother, who still looked relatively young. They explained nervously that the girl liked your content, while the brother liked Jake's content. They were expecting to scour in order for each of them to meet either of you, but were surprised to see you and Jake in one place.

You and Jake took a few pictures with them, both individually. Though, the two of them requested a picture with both you and Jake in the same frame, which you happily did.

When they left, you and Jake shared a look, before going off together.

Vidcon Day 1: Over.

Jake returned to his hotel room, too tired to do anything other than wash up and order room service. 

As Jake laid in his half-hard hotel mattress, he scrolled through his phone. He was tagged in a lot of pictures and tweets, and he found himself grinning at a lot of the sweet words his fans left. Although he was tired, he could definitely do this a few more times, feeling invigorated by his fans.

As he scrolled, the trending Twitter hashtag caught his eye.

#HelloKittyMeetsBatman.

Interesting name, he thought as he clicked on it.

Jake's heart skipped a beat as he saw what came up.

Apparently, people were extremely surprised to see you and Jake so close to each other. 

There were so many pictures of you and him taken together from afar just from that one instance earlier, from multiple different angles and distances. Jake would admit, the way he was dressed in all black while you were dressed in cute pinks and whites was almost laughable.

What truly caught his attention were the captions of all these pictures.

"Craziest crossover of 2024."

"I'm crying they legitimately look like Hello Kitty and Batman."

"Jake Sim and [Name] interacting was not on my Vidcon 2024 bingo card."

"This is like seeing two worlds collide, absolutely wild but I'm pleasantly surprised."

For the most part, it seemed like everyone just thought that you and Jake were friends, but it was still a little funny how taken aback the entire internet was.

Then, he saw the picture of you, him, and those two kids together. 

"They look like a family," was one of the most popular retweets under that post. 

Family.

That word rang through Jake's head, before he buried his face in one of the pillows, giggling to himself. He felt a little ridiculous getting so excited over such a small comment, but he couldn't help it. He felt so giddy inside at the thought of having a family with you, and felt even giddier knowing that people could see it, too.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Jake wasn't going to answer it, too caught up in his flustered-ness, but when he realized that it was you, he quickly cleared his throat, instinctively straightening out his hair (because what if he accidentally turns on his camera?-- he needed to look good for you!).

"Baby," he greeted suavely, as if he wasn't just giggling like a schoolgirl seconds ago.

Maybe it was the fact that it was already getting late, or the fact that Jake barely saw you today, or the fact that you were just so goddamn perfect, but your voice sounded so attractive in that moment.

"Jakeyyy," you whined. "Come over."

His chest was already throbbing but Jake played it cool.

He chuckled. "What for?"

"I miss you," he could hear the pout in your voice. "And I want your attention."

It was rare for you to be so direct with him, and while Jake wanted to melt on the spot, he wanted to tease you a bit longer.

"What's wrong with just being on the phone with me?" Jake's lips pulled into a smirk. "You can just talk to me like this."

"Noooo," you said. "I want— I want you."

Jake tried his best to not crumble then and there, but it was too hard.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Okay then, baby. I'll come over right now."

He didn't miss the cute little "yay!" you let out before you hung up.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Eep! Jake, what are you doing here—?!”

You’re cut off when you realized that you were, in fact, backstage of one of your events. Today was the second day of Vidcon, and you had just finished up your first event. As you went backstage, carrying the little bags of gifts that your fans got you, you didn’t expect your own boyfriend to be waiting back there for you.

“Hey there, Princess,” he said cheekily, sprawled across the backstage couch. "Miss me?"

He opened his arms up, and you instinctively crawled into them, sitting on his lap and sliding your arms around his neck. 

As you did, you eyed him up and down.

Clad in black as always, he wore a black button-up, paired with black slacks, a black belt, and a loose, black tie. That's right: today, Jake was going to have a panel with a whole bunch of other horror creators, ones that transcended the internet— authors, authors that Jake spent his whole life reading and looking up to, which explained why he was dressed significantly more proper today than yesterday.

The way his shirt fit his chest and hugged his shoulders made it hard for you to not stare, and the way that it wasn't buttoned at the top, revealing his honey-tan collarbones, mixed with the scent of his rich cologne, made you feel dizzy.

"Ay, are you checkin' me out?"

On any other day, you'd be embarrassed, maybe even pushing him away, but today, you only nodded your head, humming mindlessly in agreement.

Jake blinked at you, before he pulled you in by the waist so that you were flushed against his chest completely.

"Kiss me," you mumbled, pushing his dark bangs away from his face.

Jake chuckled, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles. "What's with you these days? Getting so bold."

You only leaned into his touch. Maybe it was sometime in the LA air, or maybe it was the vigor that your fans gave you earlier, but all you could do was look at your boyfriend with glossy, wide eyes innocently, watching the way that his resolve trembled.

"Shit," Jake cursed under his breath. "Hold on—"

He grabbed your hips, then tilted your chin so that he could have a better angle. Your lips crashed into one another. Not in the way that a meteor would crash into Earth's delicate atmosphere, but in the way that gentle sea waves crashed onto themselves, dark folds of blue creasing over each other, only to brush up against the foamy seashore, none the wiser. 

Jake liked the taste of your lip gloss; it tasted sweet, but not nearly as sweet as you, hungrily squeezing your hips in his hands. He swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, earning a squeal from you, who tugged on his hair. 

When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, chests heaving not for air, but for each other. You stared at each other for a few moments, losing time in each other's eyes, when your eyes trailed down.

God, the button-up and tie were going to drive you crazy.

Without thought, your fingers twirled around his tie, slinking up his chest before you yanked him harshly, jerking Jake toward you abruptly. 

In a moment of pure, unadulterated boldness, you attacked his neck, laying sticky kisses all across his skin. One hand laced itself in Jake's hair, keeping a firm hold of his tilted head, while your other hand crept around the buttons of his shirt. 

Each soft sigh that Jake let out made you only press more kisses on him. When he let out one particularly loud whine, his arm jerking up to grab at the couch's armrest, you knew that you found the sensitive spot on his neck. You pressed another kiss on that spot, this time sinking your teeth into his skin. The hickey was dark and purple, and when you ran your tongue over it, Jake's hands shot to your hips again.

"Shit, [Name], wait a sec—"

Skillfully, your fingers began to slowly unbutton Jake's shirt, just enough that you could see more of his chest. 

Your head was feeling fuzzy now, drunk off your desire for him. The way he threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp of air he took in, curses falling from his lips, sent electricity coursing through your body.

When you unbuttoned the last button, you noticed the way Jake's eyes were squeezed shut, his other arm resting over them, hands balled into fists as his desperation for you increased.

"Jakey," you said. Jake was going to go mad, the way your voice was so soft and innocent as it said his name, all the while you were kissing and touching him in ways that made him go light-headed. He squeezed his eyes shut, another whimper escaping his lips. If he looked you in the eye right now, he was sure that he'd burst. "I want you to look at me."

He couldn't refuse you. Immediately, he opened his eyes, the arm strewn over his face dropping back to its position on your hips.

If he didn't die by combustion, Jake was certain that he'd die now— Your pupils were blown out, eyes lidded and staring at him like he was your prey to be slaughtered. He'd seen you wrought with desire so many times before, but the way you gazed at him like he was a piece of meat, like you were going to absolutely ruin him, made him feel weak.

"Watch me, Jakey," your voice sounded so sweet, but your actions said otherwise. You abruptly got up from your seat on his lap, Jake frowning at the loss of your touch. You dug through your purse thrown across the room, returning with a tube of lipstick.

You plopped back onto Jake's lap, making sure that he was watching as you applied it to your pretty, swollen lips. 

Then, you discarded it, throwing your lipstick to the side as you snatched his tie again. You brought the black fabric to your lips, staring your boyfriend down as you pressed kisses on his tie. You kissed it a few times, making sure that the color of your lipstick, as well as the shape of your lips, was well-imprinted on it.

Then, you yanked his shirt's collar toward you, pressing a harsh kiss on the fabric, making sure that the shape of your lips was once again imprinted on the fabric.

You looked back up at his face, unable to hide your smugness as his entire expression was painted with red.

"You're so hot—" Jake attempted to force out of his throat, but you only cut him off with a rough kiss to his lips. Without a word, you covered his face, from his forehead to his jaw, with kisses.

You pulled back to admire your work, before you pulled away from him.

"I have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said quietly, your back turned to him as you straightened out your skirt. Dumbfounded, Jake could only stare at you, but when you turned over your shoulder, flashing him a bright, but terribly cheeky, grin, Jake's heart fell out of chest. "I can't be late, right?"

With that, you left your boyfriend, all hot and bothered, on the couch, running off to prepare for your next event.

Almost immediately, Jake melted. He threw an arm over his eyes as he leaned back, letting out a groan.

Was this how you felt when he teased you?

Was he now sexually frustrated? Absolutely. But now he wanted you even more.

After mulling over it for a few minutes, Jake began to go back to his venue. But, as he passed the backstage vanity, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Some of it was obvious to him already: disheveled hair, messed up shirt. But what made Jake want to evaporate was the sight of his entire face and neck covered in lipstick marks. The corner of his lip had a big lipstick smudge, the hickey that you gave him earlier was so dark now, and he couldn't even dare to forget your lip imprints on his shirt and tie.

You little tease.

Jake's last straw was.... right now.

After the backstage fiasco, he didn't get to see you all day. That night, you had a PR event to attend with your fellow beauty creators, so he didn't get to see you at night either.

Which was why Jake was practically glowing with a dark and negative storm cloud as he pranced around the third day of Vidcon. It didn't help that he saw so many pictures of you and fans all across platforms. Poor guy almost lost it when one of your fans' vlogs blew up, the most replayed part being when you let out the most angelic and sweet laughs he'd ever heard in his life.

That should be him!

Meanwhile, Jake sat in the convention room at a panel. Lined up along the table were other horror creators, from authors to Youtubers to filmmakers, similar to yesterday. The way that this specific event operated was simple: fans got to ask anyone on the panel questions and they'd answer, which the entire room got to hear, and later there would be one-on-ones along the panel.

Jake was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the fans said that they had a question for him.

"Jake, your videos take a long time to make, how do you balance work and your personal life?"

Good question. He had a simple principle when it came to how to balance everything. Jake thought about it for a moment, before reaching for his microphone.

"I don't have any outright method," he began. Jake's mind flashed with your image: all the cute messages you'd send him throughout the day, all the times where after hours of rotting in front of his computer screen he could always count on your loving embrace to give him life, all times that he'd tune into your Spotify playlist so that he could be listening to what you were listening. It was easy to balance work and life, if it was you. "But I always put my life before the screen."

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

"To be clear, I understand the privilege of getting to work in a profession like mine," Jake continued. "I don't expect everyone to be able to follow my advice exactly, but the more I live, the more I realize that what happens before my very eyes will endlessly matter so much more than what happens in my own little Youtube bubble."

Jake's mouth jumped to you faster than his mind could stop him.

"My beautiful girlfriend is everything to me," he unconsciously began to grin stupidly to himself, "I'd put her above work any day if I had to."

The moment that those words left his lips, the room erupted with gasps and whispers.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend?!" one of Jake's Youtuber friends asked, leading the room to laugh.

Oh.

Shit.

Jake's eyes visibly widened. He clutched his microphone, bringing it up to his mouth, but no words came out.

There was no way in hell that he'd outright deny you, not even in a million years.

"I.... Well..." Jake stammered, trying his best to generate any words at all. He sucked in a sharp breath, a bashful expression making its way onto his face. "That's..."

The room filled with more laughter, alongside the teasing grins and pats on the back that Jake got from his colleagues.

"Oh, so that's what you were giggling about yesterday, lover boy..." Jay, also on the panel, quipped, his brows raised so high on his forehead that it could have touched his hairline.

"Sh-Shut up, Jay!"

Jake's chest felt fizzy. In a weird way.

A part of him felt on-edge. You and him always wanted to keep your relationship secret, for the sake of preserving it. He'd seen what the Internet did to relationships: it tore them apart. It wasn't like he name-dropped you, but he felt so... exposed, so vulnerable.

But at the same time, Jake felt his chest also swell with pride. That's right. He had a girlfriend (a hot girlfriend at that), a girlfriend that he was nefariously down bad for. He hoped everyone knew that, that he was taken and that if there was anyone that he'd spend the rest of his life with, it would be you.

Jake huffed. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend. What about it?"

No one questioned him further. Probably out of fear.

You were in the middle of trying your best to get through a conversation with some beauty guru that you knew one thing about: their personal makeup line launch failed horribly and they gave everyone hairy lipsticks. It was difficult, to say the least.

Exchanging your final regards, you quickly rushed back to your booth.

The first thing you saw when you checked your phone was a viral video, in which Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend. Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you initially read the caption, but when you watched the video, you had a difficult time processing your feelings.

Did you hate that Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend? … No, you didn’t. You didn’t at all. At a certain point, seeing the way that your boyfriend smiled so earnestly made your heart jump out of your chest. The way he was so giddy and smiley (of course, only you could tell that that was how he was feeling— to everyone else it probably looked like he was brooding) made your neck and cheeks warm up.

But, the way that the room erupted with voices and laughter, combined with the quirked brows of everyone on the panel, made you quiver.

You weren’t prepared for it, for how vulnerable you felt as a chorus of “ooh’s” filled the room.

Frankly, there were too many things that you had to focus on at the moment. You'd rather enjoy Vidcon now, and address it later, when things settle down. 

Pushing it to the back of your mind, you tucked your phone away, greeting another wave of fans. Though, not without taking an extra second to "heart" the post, adding it to your favorites folder, and rewatching the video one more time, feeling warmth and giddiness filling your chest.

As the cool night air kissed your cheeks, you fought the shy smile that seeped onto your face. It was late now, late enough that you could see all the city lights gleaming, lighting up the dark sky with blotches of all different colors.

There was a Vidcon party for creators, to celebrate the end of the event. Everyone was going. Although it was meant for any creator, there was a very exclusive VIP section; only those of high prestige could get in. Both you and Jake were invited, but upon realizing that nearly the entire hotel complex would be empty due to the popularity of the party, the two of you ditched it.

You'd been wanting to go to the rooftop hottub for a while now, but you never went because you wanted to go with Jake, and it was always too crowded for the two of you to go there comfortably. But now that everyone was gone, it was the perfect time.

Your boyfriend was already waiting for you up there, towel thrown over his shoulder with a shirt and swim trunks. His face lit up the moment he saw yours emerging from the elevator doors, rushing over to you to take your hands.

He paused for a moment. His dark eyes peered at yours, licking his lips before sucking in a sharp breath. Jake gave your forehead a peck, before saying a small "C'mon" and pulling you over to the hottub.

Jake took your towel for you, folding it next to his and perching it on a sunchair.

"They're gonna get off fireworks soon— Oh, damn," he cut himself off as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing a bikini top. Your face scrunched up, squirming under his gaze. It's not like Jake has never seen you like this (in fact, he'd seen you in much more compromising positions), and it wasn't like he never complimented you, but as the hottub bubbled, the rosy scent of the water filling the air, you felt shy.

Jake slinked toward you, taking his own shirt off. 

"Hey there, Gorgeous," he said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts that had yet to be taken off. Your heart pounded in your chest, fighting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and groan in embarrassment. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. Jake chuckled softly, before clutching your chin gently, making you look up at him.

"Don't get shy on me now, babe," Jake grinned when your lips pressed into an unconscious pout. He squished your cheek, relishing in the look of confusion painted across your face. Then, his hands fell to your hips, pulling them toward his. "You look so beautiful."

Jake's fingers hooked onto the hem of your shorts, meeting your eyes for permission before pulling them down himself, revealing your bikini bottoms.

Jake's eyes glazed over your figure, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Jaaakee," you whined, squeezing his hands.

"Sorry," Jake's eyes flickered up to your face. "I can't help it. You're just so hot, baby."

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub.

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub. 

The two of you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water, you felt your limbs relax. 

Vidcon was very fun, some of the most fun you've had in a while. But, it was very tiring, having to be around so many people at a time. And plus, it was hard not seeing your boyfriend whenever you wanted.

You pulled your knees to your chest. You could hear the loud techno music a few blocks away, probably coming from the club nearby. The bright night lights of LA was something that you could only imagine sleeping under.

Other than the sound of the city bustles, the hot tub’s jet system, and the occasional ripple of water, the night was silent.

“How was your day?” Jake broke the calm silence. The way the blueish water reflected off his skin made you dizzy.

“Good,” You cursed your voice for being so small. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. It was your boyfriend, for goodness’s sake!

Jake loved it when you were shy, but sometimes he was genuinely worried about you. Part of why he loved you was the game that was trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

He reached out for you, clutching your knee. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Your stomach churned. For a second, you thought about that video of him admitting that he had a girlfriend. It made your skin crawl, but when your boyfriend squeezed your knee, it all stopped.

"Nothing," you said simply.

There's a few pulses of silence, before Jake clicked his tongue.

"H-Hey—!"

Jake got up from the water, wrapping his hands around your waist, and hoisted you up so that your legs were thrown on either side of the body, before sitting back down so that you were perched right on top of his lap.

Your chest, nearly bare, pressed against his own bare chest in a way that made your heart race. The warmth of his skin as it contacted yours was an addicting feeling, enhanced only by the warm water surrounding you. Either it was the steam from the tub, or the heat collecting between the two of your bodies, that rose to your cheeks.

You rested your hands on his chest, your fingertips barely reaching his broad shoulders, while Jake’s hands stayed in their spot around your waist.

"C'mon," you could feel Jake's warm, strong chest rumble beneath you. "Tell me what's wrong."

Under the sky, his eyes gleamed, like two gems. For the flirt that he was, Jake was too genuine and pure of a person. The sincere worry in his eyes made you feel warm, even warmer than you felt right now. And sometimes that was enough for you.

You leaned into him, your hands coming up to cup his face. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks, to which he let his eyelids fall shut, relishing in the comfort that was your presence. Every time your thumb pressed against his lips, he kissed them, unable to hide the smile growing on his lips when you giggled softly.

At the corner of your eye, you spotted the purple hickey you left on him the other day. That combined with his wet hair, the water droplets temptingly running down his chest, and the fact that you were right on top of him made you feel light-headed.

Your hands left his face, and Jake opened his mouth to whine about it, but was shut up when your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss.

It was a soft, innocent kiss, the type you gave when you just wanted to be close to him. Jake hummed against your lips, squeezing your thighs. You pulled away first, but Jake gently guided the back of your head back to his, pecking your lips.

"I just missed you," you said. You kissed his cheek. "I really missed you."

"It's only been a day," Jake teased you, but he knew better than anyone that he had absolutely no right to say that to you: he was practically dying each moment he couldn't see you.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. You held onto his strong shoulders, eyes glued to his lips. You were feeling needy, needy in the way that you simply wanted to be close to Jake. You were already close to him, but you wanted to be even closer. Your heart thirsted for it.

Then, you heard a rustle, whipping your head around toward the sound.

"Nuh-uh," Jake whispered in your ear, gently holding your face and guiding it to look at him. "I want you to look at me."

It wasn't until a few seconds later that you understood why Jake's tone sounded so teasing: he was referencing you and him the other day backstage. 

"Stoppp," you whined, pushing your face into his neck. "You're so annoying."

Jake laughed, his chest rumbling. He stopped to admire the way you were all pressed up against him. He could feel every curve of your body, and he could feel the way your cheeks puffed with air, your lips forming a pout. He poked your cheek.

"You're so cute, baby."

"I know."

"What's with you getting so bold?"

"You're annoying me."

"Awww, you love me so—"

Fireworks fired off in the distance, painting the gray-blue sky with bright colors. 

You stayed in your position, only your eyes moving upward to admire the show. However, Jake stayed staring straight at you, practically ignoring the fiery flowers forming in the sky. He gazed into your eyes, watching the reflection in them.

"It's so pretty," you murmur.

"Yeah," Jake felt like he was falling into your eyes, "So pretty."

Just as another round of fireworks shot up into the sky, Jake grabbed your face, crashing his lips onto yours. Your lips fit into each other well, like puzzle pieces, in a way that was so satisfying, almost like you were made for kissing Jake. But for all of the desire and roughness that the kiss was filled with, it was a soft one. 

Jake swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, making you squeal and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands kneaded your body, roaming all over you with no intention of leaving a single part of your skin untouched. Likewise, you gripped his biceps, digging your nails into his skin to keep yourself grounded.

"Fuck—" Jake mumbled against your lips, only to get cut off by your lips attacking his— "Wait—"

Jake tasted sweet, like candy. He tasted like home, like love, like everything was going to be okay no matter what. How could you pull away now? 

"B-Baby, wait—"

"Stop talking, Jakey," you pulled away briefly, only to bite his lip, pulling on the pink flesh with your teeth. You let your tongue roam his mouth, feeling the warmth as your own hands began to wander his toned chest. 

"Just kiss me," you breathed.

You kept Jake like this for a few more minutes, trapping him in the heaven that was your lips. But when your bikini top began to untie at the back, something that Jake noticed immediately, he ripped away from you.

Something in his eyes had changed.

Quietly, he tied your bikini top back for you, ignoring your confused (and very breathless) gaze.

"If you keep doing what you do to me," he began into your ear, "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

With that, Jake threw you over his shoulder as he hoisted himself up to his feet. He grabbed everything that you brought to the rooftop, throwing your towel over you and ignoring you fussing.

"W-Where are we goin—?!"

"Back to my room."

You were in for a night.

You and Jake were going to stay in LA for a little while longer after Vidcon, so you extended your stay in the same hotel rooms.

After last night, Jake and you fell asleep in his bed. 

It was going to be the best, Jake thought. Neither of you had anywhere to be, anyone to put on a show for. The two of you could sleep in for as long as you'd like. It didn't really matter to him, as long as he could wake up with you in his arms, he'd be all right.

Which is why Jake's heart dropped to his stomach when he woke up to you already dressed, pacing around the room nervously.

"Baby?" Jake was alarmed, even as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Baby, what happened?"

You whipped your head over to him, your expression pinch and painted with anxiety. 

"Check your phone," you muttered as you chewed your lip.

Jake did as you said. The moment he opened up his phone, his screen was filled with text messages from everyone: his colleagues, his friends, heck even his own mother. He was tagged in about a thousand posts all across his social media accounts, and his Youtube home page was plastered with his face. But not only his face. Your face too.

What caught his eye was an article from a major Internet news source that made its round across every platform.

Its headline?

Jake Sim and [Name] [Last Name] are reported to be dating.

The worst part was the cover page.

It was a photo of you and Jake, together in the hottub last night, with your arms thrown around his neck with your lips connected. When he read more into it, the photo evidence got more and more specific. Close-up pictures of Jake's neck to reveal a hickey and lipstick mark on his shirt, your smudged lipstick, a screenshot of the Sanrio plush in one of his videos, even that clip of his laugh in the background of one of your videos. Of course, the most crucial one was that clip of Jake admitting that he had a girlfriend.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For everyone to know about you, to be able to show you off.

Objectively, this was bound to happen.

But as Jake watched you pace around, your hands shaking as you looked like you were about to cry, he didn't feel the pride that he thought he would feel if everyone knew. He didn't feel happy, he didn't feel excited that he got to show you off. All he felt was a mix of guilt and anger.

And before he could reach out to hold your hand and pull you close, you quietly said that you were going to go on a walk, and left the hotel room.

The quiet that filled the hotel room was piercing. Jake stilled in his spot, still groggy and disheveled.

Had he always been like this?

He swore that at the beginning of your relationship, he took every measure to keep it private. Because you asked him to. Because he respected you.

Why did he throw it all away? 

He agreed to keep things private. 

But now he put you in an uncomfortable position and an even more vulnerable position than you'd ever been in before. 

Was he a bad boyfriend? Were you going to break up with him? Would your relationship with him ever be the same? That made Jake's heart palpitate. He couldn't lose you. No, he'd die. But then again, he fucked up, he knew that.

Jake ran a hand through his hair. This was an asshole move.

But he couldn't help feeling his fingers twitch for his phone when it ding'd.

The first thing he saw when he opened up Twitter were tweets at him.

And they were surprisingly... supportive?

"Emo boyfriend, cute girlfriend, the best combo!"

"Sending love to both of you. Hope you're doing well. We support you."

"I'm very pleasantly surprised."

"This is literally like Hello Kitty and Batman meeting this is crazy"

But as he scrolled deeper, he found more obscure comments.

"Feel so bad for [Name]. Her boyfriend is a freak."

"He doesn't deserve her."

And the nail in the coffin:

"No wonder they kept it a secret. I'd hide it too if someone like that was my boyfriend."

Why did you keep your relationship with him secret? Jake knew the answer to that: you just wanted to keep your personal life private.

But as Jake plunged himself deeper and deeper into the hole that was the media, he could only imagine alternative answers, and one stuck out.

Were you ashamed of him? 

Of course you would be.

You were beautiful in every capacity and just the most perfect person in the world. And Jake was just himself. You were always cute, and sometimes, Jake felt like he couldn't keep up with you. You were far out of his league. His content was considered "niche" and "obscure," of course people, maybe even you, considered him a freak.

He was a bastard, and you were a princess. He didn't blame you for being embarrassed about him.

That's why you were so anxious and against your relationship being exposed, right?

No, no, no!

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Jake thought, his hands balling into fists. You wouldn't. He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you would never be embarrassed about him. You weren't like that, and he was a fool for even thinking of you in that way. He was being insecure and stupid.

But even so, as Jake let all the guilt, shame, anger, and anxiety settle in while he thought of an apology to you, he couldn't help but feel his insecurity seeping in.

You knew that you were overreacting. You shouldn't have left Jake in there all alone, you should have sat down and talked to him about it.

But there was something scary about having everybody's eyes on you at once, scorning you. You were a Youtuber, of course you knew what it felt like to be watched, but to have the entire internet so hellbent about your personal life made you jump into your own skin.

You just took a walk along the early city streets, you reflected upon yourself.

Why did you keep your relationship with Jake secret? 

Part of it was privacy. You didn't want the internet to interfere with your personal life, of course. 

But it wasn't like you wanted to hide your love for your boyfriend forever. It wasn't like you wanted to stow him away somewhere no one could find him. You were both adults, and you had to start living at some point.

You'd be lying if you said that you never thought about making a cute video with him, if you said you never wanted to post a cheesy anniversary picture on Instagram with a long caption just for him, if you said you never wanted the world to know that Jake Sim was yours.

You remembered the first time you and Jake talked about keeping it private. He was unsure, but because he cared so much about you, he agreed. Had you ever stopped to think about how he felt? You may have wanted to keep your relationship quiet, but did he? To a degree, there was something selfish about you, both now and in the past. You wanted to preserve yourself and your feelings, but you never even considered how Jake felt.

You were afraid, you felt vulnerable and too exposed to the world. But you cared far more about Jake than those fleeting emotions. Desire outweighed fear, you had to see him now.

But as you marched back to your hotel, your mind racing as you came up with paragraphs of words that you'd spill to Jake, you began to notice your worst nightmare.

A group of men, each with massive cameras that had even bigger microphones. 

They called themselves the paparazzi, but they were really only middle-aged men that made money off of being invasive towards people half their age.

Maybe you should have worn a hat, or something, as you were in a camera-infested area that was even more infested with celebrities and influencers. As they approached you, you quickened your steps, trying to get as far as you could from them. You tried your best not to make eye-contact, but alas, they got to you before you could escape.

"[Name]?" one of them called out your name, practically running to you.

Oh my god, you thought, ignoring them as you sped up. Please not right now.

"[Name], are you dating Jake Sim?" The sound of your boyfriend's name out of their mouths made your stomach churn. You kept walking, but you could feel them pointing their massive cameras at you, taking any measure to make a buck off of you.

You had a few choices.

You could make a run for it. Though, you had about six men double your age who would probably chase you down.

You could also give in to them, and give very vague answers. That would require a lot of patience, and simply, you wanted to go kiss your boyfriend, not talk to these so-called paparazzis.

Your last option was the one that seemed the most appealing, but could stir the pot of the media even more and it would give the tabloids what they wanted: you could tell them off and shut them down completely. The only issue was that you were the cutesy, sweet, Sanrio Hello Kitty girl. You've talked about adult topics before, but for you to be hostile and mean to another person? That was completely unheard of to anyone on the Internet. It would also be very reactive, and the media could twist that into something more.

But you wanted to get out of there.

You wanted to go see Jake. If you had to throw a few curse words at people if it meant that you could go home to Jake, then you'd use every curse under the sun.

"[Name], everyone is saying that your relationship with Jake Sim is real and not a publicity stunt. Any comment on that-?"

You were getting irritated.

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder.

"Will you fuck off?" Your gaze hardened on the group of men shoving cameras in your faces. You didn't even bother looking into the lens. "It's 10 in the morning, I don't have time for this."

"We didn't mean to offend you, [Name], we just wanted to know your relationship with Jake Si—"

You huffed to yourself, rolling your eyes. They loved acting polite only to violate your privacy. 

"Cut the bullshit, okay?" you narrowed your eyes. You were only a few meters from the hotel entrance, and they were still stalking you with their massive cameras. How shameless. 

Your anger was bubbling up inside you. It was rising, rising so much that you could feel it attempting to spill out of your mouth.

"You want to make a quick buck off of me so bad?" You stepped through the hotel doorway.

If the media was so curious about your life, and if they wanted to go so far as to try to disrupt your relationship, you wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

Everyone loved seeing what you were doing, everyone loved to watch you. It was your job to put on a show, to give people what they wanted. If you wanted to live, then you'd have to accept that.

You were an influencer, a micro-celebrity. You could make tides move if you wanted to. Why be so fearful of the eyes of so many?

But more than anything, you were a performer. And if that's what they wanted from you, that's what they'll get.

"Fine," you huffed. "I'll give you a story: me and Jake have been together for six years. In fact, we met each other in high school when he was my Physics lab partner. Go investigate that, won't you?"

With that, you slammed the hotel entrance door in their faces.

Jake swore he heard the trumpets of heaven when the hotel room door cracked open, revealing you.

He'd been waiting in front of it for a while now, and he jerked up immediately as he saw your face. He jumped right to his feet, ready to spill every word he thought of on you. You deserved an explanation.

But all you did was raise your hand, silencing him instantly. Instead, you took off your shoes, took his arm, and pulled him with you to the bed. You motioned for him to lay down, and did so yourself.

Jake stared at you like you were insane. Were you not going to yell at him? Why weren't you hitting him or telling him that you wanted to break up with him? Should he be on his knees begging you to stay at this point? But he complied (because of course he did, it was you).

You laid on his chest in silence, pressing your cheek up against him. 

That made his mind wander.

Maybe you were trying to ease him into a hard conversation. Maybe you were going to forget this until later.

He didn't want that. No, you deserved to hear what he had to say. If you were going to leave him, Jake wanted to say everything that he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Jake blurted. The silence was deafening, before you took a deep breath, turning over onto your stomach so that your chin laid on his chest.

"What for?"

The gentle look in your eye as you looked at him made Jake choke up himself. He had to hold back or he'd start sobbing.

"For going against your wishes a-and..." Jake searched through his mind for all the words he practiced, but nothing came to mind. Not with you looking at him like you still loved him. "And for telling people about our relationship. I—I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry for disrespecting the promise w-we made.... And... And—"

Jake sucked in a loud, sharp breath. His eyes were getting watery. He took your hands in his, squeezing them. 

"And I know that you're ash—ashamed of me, and I know that y-you won't— you won't want to be with me anymore, but—"

"Wait what?" you interrupted him, squeezing hands back. "I'm not ashamed of you, Jakey."

Jake stared at you.

Jakey.

"I'm not breaking up with you either. What makes you think that?"

The gate that was holding back Jake's emotions broke.

Jake let the tears that he tried so hard to hold back roll down his face. He let out a sob before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

You didn't hate him? You still wanted to be with him?

You instantly threw your leg over his hips, straddling him as you pulled his head to your chest. He melted into your touch, his wet face hiding in the crook of your neck. You pet his hair, pressing kisses to the crown of his head.

"Baby," you whispered into his ear gently. "Why are you crying?"

Jake's crying only got louder, and you couldn't help but giggle. He was a total softie. The way his hold around you tightened told you enough.

Jake sniffled through his words, cutting himself off every now and then with a hiccup and more sobs. "Th-Thought you were gonna l-leave me."

Your fingers stopped in his hair. "Leave you? Why would I?"

Jake pushed his face back into your shoulder, shaking his head.

You let him cry like that for a little while longer, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear as you patted his back. 

And when he was ready, the two of you talked it out, because that's what people did when they loved each other. You exchanged apologies, explained to each other your thought processes, and created an agreement: start anew, and you both didn’t mind that your relationship was now public, and if either of you disagreed, you had to voice it immediately. You ended it with a kiss.

You clicked the camera on, checking in the viewfinder that you were in-frame. You were back at home, the pink Hello Kitty decorations in your room, as well as the scent of strawberries, surrounding you. 

“Hi, everyone!” you smiled brightly, clasping your hands together. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all. How are you?”

You chatted about a few updates since Vidcon, telling about your wonderful experience there and how you were so happy to meet all your fans.

“Now, onto the video!”

You peered to the side, where you spotted Jake sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting intently for your cue.

“Oh, Jakey!” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Come out now!”

With that, Jake popped into frame, dorkily saying a quick hi before plopping down onto the chair beside you.

“Today, I will be doing my boyfriend’s makeup!” you chirped happily. “Are you ready, boyfriend?”

The two of you shared a grin.

“Of course, girlfriend.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #jake sim fluff #jake sim x reader #jake sim imagine #jake enhypen #jake sim #jake fluff #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun x rader #star-sim #vanya-writes

[comfortless]

Only Other

chapter one of three.

Goth soldier! König x fem, Roman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of gore, groping, dubcon sword/knifeplay. additional warnings will be added to the next two chapters.

notes: for @writersdrug’s request. ^^

wc: 11k.

The barbarians are here.

The dream of river water lapping over your knees and songbirds in swaying trees fades out into a hazy fog as you begin to rise, dropping your legs from the mattress to spur yourself to move across the small room as quietly as your feet can carry you.

Heavy footfalls and staggering hoof beats from their horses weighed down by heavy sacks of supplies is what has pulled you from sleep.

The flames of their torches crackle, accompanied by the shrieks of clanging, well-polished metals singing out as if in the throes of war becomes a dull song; weapons, wicked and crudely crafted unlike the spears of the soldiers donned in red you were so accustomed to by now.

You had heard the whispers on the wind of the untamed beasts from Germania filtering in, settling down here; their arms and their blood for just a sliver of land to claim, soil to birth farmland, a semblance of peace from within the walls of the great empire.

Never, in these small words from gossiping tongues, did you suspect that these rugged men would be taking to camp so very close to your city. Not only that… they’ve been accepted into the walls, the door flung open for them with their gnashing teeth and thick, ugly weapons. These men of myth were usually set further out into the countryside, far from view of polite people to sow seed in soft fields, build the little shacks that seemed far too fragile for their rugged forms that could never compare to the villas built here.

Peering over the sill of the open window, stretching your upper half out into crisp night air to catch a glimpse of torches sailing along the breeze, flames just as ever-shifting as their darkened silhouettes, your breath seems to halt entirely. They look the trueness of harbingers like this: each somehow more imposing than the one they follow behind. You count only two horses split between the eight men of this small band.

Could any of them even speak in your tongue?

What stories could they tell?

Had any of them ventured as far as the sea or had they only bathed in waves of warm blood?

With eyes wide, you even dare to perch there to watch on, never bothering to conceal your underclothes with the faith that the darkness would hide away anything more than a illusory view of your shape.

Through the faint glow of the yellow-red flickering flames, your gaze drifts to something large, hulking and brutish, darker still against the backdrop of a sable horizon.

The shadow walks in line with the others, their proud and raucous foreign voices feathering through the otherwise quieted air… only he does not speak, does not make a single utterance of mirth or glee. He stares only forward as his feet tread on just paces behind the rest of the group.

Nine, then.

Like the tales you’ve heard of the Goths, you’ve also listened in on the children spinning wild stories of monsters, the legends of heroes of old slaying cruel beasts told by their elders. You had always believed them, even without the evidence currently striding through the sleeping streets, dark like a crypt, like the underworld itself. A true titan.

Just as your eyes track the brooding, silent form, he abruptly turns his head in your direction.

The glow of a nearby torch paints the shrouded face in the color of a dying sun, casts a glint on the thick seax strapped to his hip.

In that moment, it isn’t wonderment curling through your blood, but surprise, maybe even a tinge of fear.

Your heart hammers as you pull yourself from the window to whisper hurried, hushed prayers to Juno, protectress of women, as you reject your curious nature and climb back into your bed. You’ll bring your offerings to her altar just as any devout: incense and a sweet pastry so long as she keeps you safe, chaste.

Buried beneath cushions stuffed with straw and thin fabric sheets to tuck yourself away, you wish only to return to dreaming of the river’s silt beneath your feet and colorful birds parading past in the open air that smells only of violets and honey.

Instead, you dream of fire.

You dream of the city bathed in gold, molten and angry as the walls come down around you.

You watch as your neighbors, friends, all begin to writhe and shriek as their skin begins to blister, boil beneath until it melts layer by precious layer to puddle like oil where feet once stood until the mighty, wraithful scorch takes even that away too. What once was human becomes smoke: women, men, children, it made no difference. It all becomes a mighty roaring flame as the structures wail and crumble around you.

Yet, you remain untouched.

Dawn breaks with the puppets sewn in shadow all but entirely forgotten, washed away in the fearsome tides of your own dreaming.

You startle and bolt upright as you wipe cold sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.

You’re no oracle: it’s just a dream… Vulcan would never turn his fiery gaze to your people after you’ve all honored him so, the offerings paid at his altar had been plentiful this past year with the steady expansion of the empire and the need for well-smithed weapons.

There were no volcanoes here to sweep away your life with magma and sulfur… only the lemures that haunted old shacks with their wailing had paid a visit to you last night. You let them in with your fears, and you would ward them away next with your courage.

The sun’s warmth creeps its way in, sweeps up from your blanketed legs until it curls and caresses at your cheek. From its positioning, proud and impossibly high in the sky it’s almost as though Sol himself were staring down at you, radiant yet scolding.

You’ve overslept.

Hurriedly, you ready yourself for the day, cinching your waist, clasping the shoulder of the stola, and dutifully washing your face with still water held in a clay pot. There was little else to do than bide your time with tedium: the animals loitering about needed tending to, a neglected sewing project lay strewn across the floor that had long-awaited its completion, and as the questions began to stir in your mind again… perhaps, gods willing, you would safely be gifted the opportunity to peek at the barbarian camp. To see that peculiar titan that they kept tethered at their sides.

It was dangerous and unheard of for a maiden, of course, but with little else to do than work and practice stitching threads for a betrothed you held no true affection for, this was a significant reprieve from the humdrum of what was scrawled out into the stars.

You weren’t given the luxury of further studies and communing with the aristocrats at their hearty banquets, sipping wine and prattling onwards about politics and how to further Rome as a whole. A part of you preferred this simple life of taking to the street, to peruse the market with what little money you held clutched in your palm, to pet the horses and watch as bulls sparred out in the fields beyond. Returning home to an empty house was a comfort, too.

As always, the market is a lively place, full to bursting with people exchanging anything under the sun, either beneath painted wooden stalls or from the first floor of their very homes, all with very little regard for you.

The city was simply too full to take in every name and face, and only their chatter seemed to intrigue you anyhow. You didn’t need a scroll or a song about each individual, your people were easy enough to read: war, pride, and duty all embedded into their very blood. The only ones that drew your attention were the poets and bards, entertainers who spun their stories of lives vastly different from your own… but there were none awaiting coin on the streets today.

A man passes with his wife at his side, loudly bolstering onward about his progress on some expedition.

Women with flowers woven into the braids of their hair laugh softly behind their palms as they exchange their secrets in singsong whispers.

The children play and pocket with eager palms when salesmen are unaware, likely to be caught later on and have their hands whipped raw.

There’s no talk of the Goths.

With these foreign men, most of your people seemed unbothered, taking solace in the knowledge that the empire’s cavalry would ride to strike down any opposition. A tentative, arrogant sort of comfort that you knew very well not to trust entirely. Most were simply not as educated on the potential of what could be, hadn’t snuck around on quiet feet to listen in on the men discussing failed treaties and negotiations.

The Goths could find their own food, their own women and shelters after fighting for the empire for a time: likely what they were here to do… give up their lives in exchange for a sliver of a Roman dream. A band as small as the one you witnessed could never quite hope to topple an empire, anyhow.

That sense of safety brought forth disinterest and smug little grins with little else to say, whereas your mind only took to further conjuring curiosity.

The more you wander the more you question whether you saw them at all, or if they were mere specters, already slain and silenced on some field far off from here, long dead and forgotten by all but the sleep-addled mind of a maiden.

You’ve never felt so disheartened. Though the city remained constantly bustling and full of intrigue when you knew where to look, these days the ease of it all only seemed to further the boredom. If nothing were to come, it would be no surprise to find that Juno would serve her purpose, looking after all with her blessings. You almost regret calling for her safety last night.

If the barbarians were indeed real, had some plot to overthrow an empire with their small numbers, perhaps only a vulture would be pleased with your thoughts now: teetering on the cusp of anticipation and wonder. You would never think yourself treasonous, but to learn, to see more… Your appetite for something further than a life spent sewing and child-rearing after marrying a man that made your skin prickle with distaste in the coming winter was rational.

Maybe not to most, but to you.

The fruit stall pulls you from thought with its sappy, honey-sweet scent and brilliant colors littered in crates: reds, greens, even some soft and blue… You only then notice you’ve been standing entirely still here, lost in thought, as if expecting a bolt of lightning to split the world in two.

Two apricots were purchased, one for you and the other for the gray mare in the stable you had grown fond of. You give the merchant a smile and a few bronze coins and carry on your way, nibbling at one of the fruits on your walk.

There were usually servants tending to the horses just beyond the city's paved streets, but it seemed today they were busy with other affairs: Quinquatria would be upon the city soon, and there was much to prepare for such an important festival. The place was empty all apart from yourself and the horses, some off in the fields to gallop to their heart’s content, while others like your mare, secured by wooden gates and paddocks.

You feed her, cooing gently as she takes the pitted fruit from your hand and between her blunt teeth; then, allows you to lead her into the grass with your honeyed words and languid steps.

One day, you hoped to have the opportunity to ride her, perhaps far away to touch the waters of the ocean, to see the foreign trees in some great adventure that would leave you more fulfilled. Ideally, without being weighed down heavy with child.

Your hand strokes at her nose before she begins to tense, eyes wandering from your form to something just beyond, far off and nestled in tall, fluttering grass and small bushes. You track her gaze for a moment, finally turning to look over your shoulder.

The wind has the tops of the trees swaying along the hills, grass pushed down to kiss the earth with each flutter of air. It all smells and feels so gentle, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the soil and salt of the earth itself. Ceres would have found herself prideful at the sight; everything rich and lush with the spring… Harvests would be bountiful this year, and everyone would be well-fed and contented. It’s no surprise that after pilfering through old calendars and running his tests upon the soil, Gaius had declared that this was the year he would take you to be his wife.

Past the expanse of soft blossoms and a cavalcade of greenery, all sweeping and rolling, a beauty that would stifle anyone should they think to look hard enough… but amidst all of this sits a man that you recognize immediately. Though he remains utterly faceless, his stature is somehow enough to make a gladiator blush and turn tail in shame.

There, just where the hill dips down and gives way to the soft rush of the stream, sits your warrior. His head is lowered as he crouches by the water, hands tucked to his front as he busies himself with something in his lap. The bare expanse of his back presented to you is unfathomable even from such a distance.

The men from Germania were said to be huge, dwarfing those that you were accustomed to by lengths, tall and thick like the weapons that they carry. They were said to be handsome, too… and like some hazy dream you were already certain that he was, somehow, beneath the pelt tied round his waist to keep him warmed at night, the sable shroud hanging over his head as he works away at sharpening the blade laying over his lap.

Your legs feel weak like a freshly birthed lamb’s as you watch him; the muscles of his bare arms bulging and quivering, his nude back tensing with effort. The soft rays of the sun beaming down only seem to paint him golden, untouchable except by higherborn women and men who could pay well to have him dirty his blade or his cock. Radiant, cruel, maybe even a bastard son of Mars himself, because what better a place for a man so vast and laden with scar tissue to be than in the midst of some great war.

Someone like this, you know with a certainty, would have no time for fickle maidens with their heads filled with the fluff of fantasies, and in a way that only seems to solidify a plume of possessiveness stirred up within your head.

You wonder even, if he calls to Vulcan as he pauses to hold his blade up to the sun to marvel at his work, the sharpened silver glinting in the light. The weapon casts its rays to only further illuminate the paleness of his flesh, coupled with the gleam of the flowing water ebbing past it only serves to make him look the very picture of those old stories and myths. The older women in the city would have tapestries embroidered of this scene, no doubt, if they could see through your eyes now.

Your horse trots off, satisfied that there is no true threat here, and you feel yourself begin to creep forward.

The gods and goddesses must play their tricks, because you are no fool. The pull only feels undeniable, something that you could not fight with a stern will alone. You pacify your impromptu decision with the thought that you could turn away at any point in the meters it would take to reach him. Surely, if he turned to face you before then that same fear from the night before would come to surface and you would sprint, startled and wary.

Perhaps he would even give chase…

There’s no excitement to be held on him, either acutely unaware or ignoring your presence entirely as you draw ever-closer. The grass softens your footsteps, the breeze blanketing any sound from each shift of your legs beneath the linen stola. You’re near silent in your approach, only halting where the hill crests over the bank several paces away from where he remains seated.

Only then does he turn to look your way.

There’s no greeting, no display of friendliness. His body language remains closed off, distant, like that of a wolf in cautious preparation; deciding whether or not it would be necessary to bare his teeth, to snap and growl until your flesh rends beneath him.

So it’s left up to you and to Juno who remains harbored in your heart. The goddess would protect you most assuredly, you’ve left her offerings for as long as you could remember, prayed at her altars and devoted yourself entirely— perhaps not in the same way of the temple maidens, but certainly more so than most.

You take a breath, watching him with kind eyes and an air of unease about you that only seems sweet by comparison to the very danger that his presence proposes. He only returns your stare with something colder, detached and unamused beneath that ugly veil he wears: two holes for the eyes, dyed beneath with the red rimming yellow like the tissue a butcher may find in a plump calf.

“Can you understand me?”

There’s a long, tense silence that follows your frail question. The titan stares, looks you over from the crown of your head, briefly pauses midway- at your hips- then further. It’s both heated and cold, coaxing yet analytical.

Finally, the barbarian gives a curt nod in response, seeming no less frigid and closed off even as your voice feathers over the breeze. But he understands, can decipher your language, that’s a start.

“You are… one of the barbarians, yes?” Is that even what they preferred to be called? The word certainly sounded prettier on your tongue than the brutish pronunciation of ‘Goths’. There would certainly be some price to be paid if your blood was spilled over a mere insult…

Graciously, he only seems to overlook it as he sheaths his blade and rises to his full height, tall like the mountains you had only heard stories of, where gods and goddesses sit in council not meant for mortal ears.

Freed of any covering upon his upper body, you find yourself reluctantly mesmerized by the trail of light hair that runs from chest to abdomen and down further… until a little tuft peeks from the hem of the pelt tied around his narrow hips. The layer of fat over his midsection paves a way upward to reveal the muscles of his chest, wider and more prominent somehow than most breasts you’ve seen.

Unruly thoughts clutter that would have others questioning your status and devotion to your Gaius if they could hear them. It couldn’t be helped, you reason; you had never seen a man quite so vast, so meant for battle and breeding.

“That is what your people call me,” he huffs, bull preparing to charge. His words come out with a thick accent, northern. The trees and mountains would sound similar if they could speak at all.

He drinks you in with his eyes, fingers twitching at his sides as though itching to touch your most sensitive parts. Though he doesn’t move yet, you get the sense that all it would take is one false move, a skitter in your step that leaves you tumbling to the earth, and he would be upon you like the downpours of spring. You even wonder if he would roar like the thunder delivered from Jupiter’s weighty palms if he were to mount you.

Of course, what he sees before him is not a maiden of Rome. His people didn’t care for purity, for your religions and ideals: you’re a fertile little doe, wandering straight to a buck in his prime.

You swallow hard, a little bob from your fragile throat, to force those treasonous thoughts from your mind. Even talking to this man was a risk to your reputation… Your poor betrothed, nearing thrice your age and horribly delicate by comparison to this beast, would be up in arms if he were to find you here. More concerning, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“What do you call yourself, then?” Your voice comes almost breathless, thighs pressed together beneath your stola as your own body sends its signs and omens to tell you that you’re precariously close to the underworld just by gracing him with your presence. Perhaps it would be that dark, too, if this giant decided to push you to the soil, hover over you as he plucked you apart like petals from a flower.

His eyes track that subtle shift of your legs, crinkling at the outer corners when they roam back upward to your face. The beast grins beneath his hood, you’re certain of it, and those eyes of pale blue seem to glitter like the sun's rays on the stream to your side. He shifts, crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his hips just slightly forward, some strange display undoubtedly meant to tempt and charm you.

You don’t budge from your perch, despite your body’s persistent singing for him. Enticing scents and views of flesh could do that… this man wasn’t special, you were just curious. That’s all that it was.

“König.” He answers things plainly in that lilted voice, as though he’s trying to seem more of a man to spite that boyish way of speaking. And gods help you- it’s cute.

“Does it have meaning?,” you settle to ask when he does not request your name in turn. A bit rude, though you do wonder if perhaps the bullish men in his settlements see delicate things like you more like pets anyhow. The thought of this warrior whisking you away and naming you one day… You swallow that lump in your throat again, teetering back on your heels as if to place more distance between you two.

“What do you think it means?”

That simple non-answer does finally allow your pulse to settle, only to rise immediately to find it insulting— as if this wild man with no proper education had the right to insult you at all.

He only smiles again beneath that veil when your face sours. Awful, wretched, gorgeous creature… You’re no threat to him and he knows it. He’s only playing with you, dodging your pretension with a bit of his own, and unfortunately… This is the most pleasant conversation that you’ve had with any man.

Your betrothed was only arrogant and dull, there’s no light in his eyes when he smiles at you- everything is duty. Not here. Not with König, and surely the goddess of marriage and love is frowning down at you from her lofty throne, because you’re almost certain you’re infatuated with the brute by now.

“You’re a bit rude.”

“King.” He grins, a grin that you can see when he frees the leather flask from his belt and shoves his mask upward to take a heavy gulp of what is undoubtedly Roman wine. The glimpse alone makes you weak again, honey drips from your thoughts to your cunt, and you know now that you were never simply curious.

No, this brute would be the end of your engagement and even you if you allowed it.

You watch him take his fill, catch the bitter scent in the air as a bit trickles down from his rough jaw to his throat, all covered in scars. He’s been in battle for a long time, likely why he wears the hood at all. The rest of that handsome face is undoubtedly a wreck just as what could be seen of his body, all covered in memories of where he’s had scrapes and dances with daggers only to fell his foes one by one with that long seax dangling from his hip.

After the hood and the flask are in their proper places once more, he gives you a nod, then speaks, “How many coins?”

It takes a moment for the question to register in full; he isn’t asking what you have on your person, but how much you’re worth. How much it would cost for you to spend a night in his bed, tolerating this giant between your legs…

Your attractions billow up in smoke immediately, just as you expression sours and your hands curl to fists at your side, crushing the half-eaten apricot in the process. You toss the ruined fruit to the ground, allowing the sweet juice to coat your fingers as it flows downward.

You wring your hand as you very nearly shout, “You are an animal. I’m not here to sell myself.”

Your voice falters to a meek, little whisper with your final words, the breath a weak gust through the first tiny blossoms of spring.

Of course he catches onto your body language, to the way your thighs rub and tense beneath your skirt, the way your nipples peak at the mere sight of him and all of the infatuation and curiosity in your eyes. Men knew things like this, offhandedly, it seemed; if the others were correct then this beast could surely smell you, too.

The bastard only stares, eyes narrowing as his brow pulls together beneath the hood in some strange confusion. The whores wore their togas, not the stolas of maidens and married women, even a barbarian should have known that: his men were certainly no strangers to the sweet women with their faces chalked in lead.

Then, his shoulders pull up to fall in a shrug.

“Run, then, little one.”

It’s almost as though he knows your thoughts in and out, a lemure himself as he presents the bulk of him that would strike fear into any man, taunts and goads. You don’t want another fire dream. You force your courage and mirror his stance: chin up, back straightened as you look down upon him like a goddess sent to deliver her fury with… a pitted apricot at your feet rather than bolts of famine and misfortunes.

His eyes become stars, twinkling in earnest when he sees you then. You’re no aristocrat, no empress, but you certainly feel the part when the giant’s gaze finally relaxes its pilferage and settles upon your face instead.

Your act is all for naught, because you realize that his men are approaching, opposite the stream. One of them was enough, but a hoard of others… You were not even certain that he could understand you properly, and the others could be even less patient. Your gaze travels over their forms, smaller than this ‘König’, but each equipped with their own weapons and their own scars from battle.

They look from their leader to you, eyes grazing over the plush flesh that your stola dutifully conceals like starved dogs. One of them mutters something in a foreign tongue, harsh and guttural, his eyes never leaving your shape in a display of brazen appraisal.

König responds in turn, voice taking on a lower octave as he all but barks his response: harsh, unyielding language that you couldn’t hope to interpret… but if you had to guess, you were nearly certain that his men were asking who would lift your skirts and have their way with you first.

You depart from them with tentative yet hurried feet, and you don’t look back as you cross across the lush field. There’s no stopping at the stable, not a thought in your head except that you would most assuredly not be returning. The barbarians could have the field, the stream, whatever the city’s officials had allowed them.

Just not you.

It’s Gaius that greets you when you arrive home, to the little villa he had secured for you; to the place that would become less of a home and more of a prison once the two of you were wed. You’re barely a foot in the door when the man’s gaunt face turns to you, his lips set in a stern line.

“Where were you?”

You knew that look, it’s the very same that he gives to his slaves when he’s about to bleat out his orders like an enraged goat, shove them or grab at them to feel less small than he truly is.

Your brow pinches, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as you try in earnest to look the part of an innocent lady who had not just crossed a field and fantasized endlessly of some rude, barbaric oaf.

“In the field. With the horses,” you deliver your half-truth with practiced ease. This wasn’t the first time you’ve lied to him, and it certainly would not be the last. If the protectress of Rome could overlook your stunts and recognize your discomfort in this wretch’s presence… then she might even side with you; save you from a future of sharing this man’s bed.

Gaius relents then— as much as a stoic, old man could. He reaches out to cup your face with one weathered hand and you have to force back to urge to shudder.

It’s not that you mean to be cold, not after all that he’s done to care for you… it just comes as naturally as the seasons and the wills of the gods. Something about him always made you feel ill.

You eventually, tentatively jut your chin forward just a bit to force yourself into leaning toward the touch of his cold hand.

His lips curl into an unsightly grin; then, he pats your cheek and draws away enough to bless you with fresher air to breathe without his withering presence alone contaminating it.

“I brought you a gift, meum corculum.”

“Oh…” Your words come in a little hiss, your heart stuttering in your chest as you teeter back on the heels of your sandals. The straps along your calves feel tighter now, your stola too… maybe even the room itself: everything seems to close in, and you could only silently hope he doesn’t request your affections for doing such. “… you didn’t have to-“

“Nonsense.” Gaius raises both of his hands, arcs them before stepping out of your path to reveal a new dress lying on the wooden table just beyond him, dyed a light blue.

It’s pretty, well-spun and soft-looking… yet you still hesitate a bit when you step closer to run your fingertips over the fabric. It yields beneath your touch, bunches when you move each digit along the pliant linen, and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever touched, maybe even softer than the lambs and kittens you’ve played with in the streets.

“I thought that you might like something nicer to wear during Quinquatria,” he adds from just behind you. You feel his hands trace along your arms, further, until they reach your shoulders and give a gentle, but almost demanding squeeze.

It’s meant to be affectionate and he is your husband-to-be… but he still manages to make you feel ill. It’s only a blessing that he’s never requested more from you than a peck for his offerings to you.

What a man in his late stage of life could see in you, you couldn’t hope to imagine. A fertile womb, likely, and you could only hope that that isn’t also what he saw in the women he kept as slaves in his own home further toward the city’s center. Nosy, dull man that he was, of course he needed to be closer to the housings of banquets and discussions to feel some level of importance while he kept you locked away toward the wall and the slums like some filthy little mystery.

“I’m tired, my love,” you manage, voice thin as you slowly pull yourself away, from both Gaius and the delicate blue thing you would be forced into wearing for the coming festival.

The man balks, but doesn’t push. A few seasons and he would have what he’s awaited for years, the confident gleam in his eyes tells you that he’s certain of it.

It’s difficult to believe that someone you had once considered a hero and a friend could make you feel so much disgust now. You were naïve, then, and now you only feel how those poor horses locked away in the stables must feel, burdened with a constant yearning for your own freedom.

“Then rest.”

When the door shuts behind him, you’re only then able to expel your relief. The weight of what you must do settles upon you, heavy and unyielding, the boulder of Terminus.

You can not marry Gaius. You can not continue to breathe in the stink of the city from its miasmic aqueducts, perfumed only by the crowded marketplace full of mortals so contented with their own tedium. The unknown calls and calls, howling like a mother wolf to guide you. Even with the stories told of what fiends and horrors lie outside of the city you could almost feel with a certainty that you were destined for it.

You light your incense with a lump of coal in the burner of a clay pot. Just cinnamon would have to do for now. You make your peace with that promising Juno whichever sweet, flaking pastry that appeals most during the festival of Minerva.

Though you were more than content with your wish for nothing more to do with the barbarians after meeting with König earlier… he comes rushing back into your mind, rolling and lapping like waves as you begin to prepare yourself for sleep. The polished tin of your hand mirror reflects your face as you twirl the handle in a curled palm and you stare. Did he see beauty or simply a womb…? Had you taken offense to nothing? The questions stir up remorse as you strip away your gown and take to the bed.

Just one more meeting with the foreigner, maybe. Just to say your farewells, wish him luck in future battles, bless his seax and his shield with a touch and a prayer (if he even had the sight to keep any form of defense on his person).

When Quinquatria comes, when the people are busy and satisfied with their food, fortune telling and the gladiator games, you will take your mare and ride off into a sea of stars. Each light will be a point of guidance until you reach the riverbed you’ve only ever dreamt of, until you scale the mountains that sang so sweetly from the goth’s tongue…

And perhaps he will chase you.

— — —

Quinquatria used to be one of your favorite festivals. The fortune tellers were your favorites, always seeming to know so very much with so little insight into your life. Then there were the revelers donning their colorful masks, barking out song with bitter wine painting their tongues.

You try to listen in on them as a woman traces over the patterns in your palm, the curved lines and straight, fine indentations. Palmistry, rather than any proper reading with sacrifices and proper seers stood before a temple. You reason that this is for fun, just like the wine-drinking and the gladiators fighting for their lives and the horrible stink of the city’s streets: natural, reasonable, and dreadfully normal.

The fortune teller hums as she reads you through your hand, laughs a bit when she seems to note a secret or… something. You were not entirely sure. The woman was young, her belly likely as full of fermented fruit as everyone else’s as they dance and crowd the street where you two are stood.

“You’re unhappy, girl,” the woman muses, giving you a sympathetic look before another laugh pulls from her lips.

You give her a nod but don’t say a word as she continues to stroke at your palm. Of course you were, anyone could tell just by the frail look upon your face, as if you were indeed bereft and ready to cry at any moment in this horrible, dainty dress with your betrothed fondling some lady mere paces from you.

“Yet, so lovely,” she continues, nimbly running her fingers to your wrist. She curls them around you, turns your hand over and gives it a soft pat to signify that your reading is done.

“You’re destined for a summer wedding.” Winter, you want to correct. “And your husband… strong and brave like the sacred wolf.” Weak and old, you force back with a clenched jaw.

She releases your wrist with one last assessment, “Juno favors you, sweet girl.”

You want to call her a fraud, but instead you merely part with the bronze you had promised to her. With Gaius preoccupied, his wrinkled hands already tucked beneath the skirt of the other woman’s stola, now would be the best time to wrench the door of your little cage wide open… not make a scene.

Your chest feels tight, and for the first time it isn’t from some unknown fear, it’s excitement. Your heart hammers as the blood stirs within your veins, belly tense and breathing shallow, taking a stiff pace to walk along the shadow untouched by silver paths of moonlight.

There’s a bellow, a wail as the gladiators fight some distance off. Soft words and whispers filtering past like eerie words from something ghastly, moans from a brothel, bells on the wind, the stink of rot and perfume all from all that you’ve known for so long as you leave it all behind.

Your mare is pacing restlessly in the field, her ears flicking and tail swaying behind her. You’ve no saddle, you hadn’t even thought to procure food or any supplies. You’re not even certain that she’s been ridden by anyone, but you coax her over to the wooden fence that your body rests over; hands find the velvety fur of her gray snout, fingers moving to gently caress her mane and ears.

“We are going to be free,” you whisper as your hands curl over her neck. The mare makes her displeasure known immediately, huffing and tensing immediately… and you realize that this isn’t going to work, not without her bucking you off and leaving you injured or dead. You’re not stupid or brazen enough to break a horse or anything, really. Not Gaius. Not…

You would find König. Perhaps you could even trade the Goth for a horse already accustomed to being ridden… he had already revealed his intentions, and he was easy enough on the eyes to entertain the thought.

You give the mare a kiss farewell, right on the softness of her cheek and detach yourself from the fence to wander past the silver field, the gently flowing stream. The water dampens your dress, embeds it’s cold into your very bone where the sandals fail to protect. Spring or not, it’s hardly warm at night, and there are only so many rocks lying in the water to keep you from sinking in.

The clothes are drenched by the time you crawl to the other side. On the opposite bank, it’s only then that you turn back to look over at the city, one final glimpse of a place bathed in gold; cinder and ash from torchlight, flowers and the creeping scent of decay carry on the breeze. Even from the distance you can hear the music, chimes of steel on steel, the laughter and cries of mirth and pleasure.

Begrudgingly, you feel the first seeds of regret plucking at your heartstrings. You’ve nothing to your name apart from a few coins in a pouch strapped to your hip, no weapons, no food. You could die, you verily would if you went at this alone. And still, you force your face forward and continue your steady waltz to look the unknown straight in its bloody maw.

You won’t panic, won’t fear. Whatever awaits would be better— it had to be.

The barbarian camp comes into view some time later. You couldn’t be certain how long you’ve been walking, as though some spirit had plucked the chords of your mind and left you in some confused daze. It couldn’t have been your own desperation. Something greater had to be at play, a proper destiny: one much better than the life of Gaius’s wife, owned like a hound, imprisoned and uninspired.

Though their torches burn, their tents stitched together amalgamations of old pelts and cloth, the air is fresher here. You expected the reek of death, heavy on their skin, bathed in blood and the rot like visions of Mors herself. Instead, you smell smoked meat and wine on the air: a boar and fermented grape, fruit from the surrounding orchards, the heavy scent of men. There’s no celebration here, a few men talking quietly as their eyes wander over what you can only assume to be some sort of map— tactical discussion for their next bloodbath.

You puff your chest and steel your gaze as you walk towards them, expression set not unlike the stern looks your betrothed would give.

Your attempt at intimidation only earns a flicker of hunger in the gazes of these men, and then a bout of grating laughter. They glance at one another, discussing you in hushed voices in their mother tongue before one finally looks to you and asks a simple, “Was?”

“König,” you answer simply. “Where might I find him?”

The question undoubtedly goes uninterpreted, but the name does spark a wave of interest that passes between their faces. Finally, one points toward the tent at the far side of the camp: ugly thing, vast and layered in dark tones of gray and maroon, the very structure is a bleeding animal.

You hear the laughter behind you, the lewd whispers and jeers and only a simpleton wouldn’t be able to interpret the meaning; the titan that heads their little group has a lovely woman seeking him out like a wayward dream, and with adrenaline already coursing through you the thought of spending your night here doesn’t even seem an insulting prospect.

The flap serving as the door of the tent parts as your hands move to lift it, and sure enough… the beast lies in wait in his den, seated on a mattress made up entirely of fur. His hood remains over his head as he traces the carvings on the handle of the seax, under flickering flame and the shadow of the tent König seems further unearthly, god walking amongst men as he toys with his weapon in some strange sort of ritual.

The ritual only seems to be one of boredom, because his eyes light up when they rest over you, standing like a dream as your dress billows with the breeze creeping in. You’re drenched and dirty and pitiful in his presence, but he only seems to soften when he beckons you toward him with a curl of his fingers meeting his palm.

You obey with tentative steps, stopping next to him as he waits on the bed. If it were possible for your heart to seize and halt entirely without you collapsing to sink beneath the earth, it surely would now, so close to him.

“I need a favor,” you explain in whispers. “A horse.”

“A horse,” he repeats as his weapon is set aside, “Warum?”

You don’t want to explain a thing. He’s working with the very men that could drag you back to the city after being paid heavily by Gaius… your trust is blind and foolish and you almost want to break apart right here. How stupid to believe that you could find some solace here, with a giant that walks along the cusp between men and beasts. Your shaking hands reach out to drag along his vast shoulders, lingering on the healed wounds that dent and give rise to his flesh.

“I’ll do what you want,” you offer quietly, earning a pleased rumble from his chest.

Though after a moment, he only sieges your wrists, pulls you down to the mattress at his side. He touches you no further, only stares down at you in a twist of amusement, reverence and confusion.

“Warum?,” he repeats, “Tell me.”

You wind over onto your side, staring up at him with a desperation that you’ve never known until this night, clawing down from your throat to bed it’s way into your roaring pulse, frightened and pleading. Just give in, ask no more, you want to wail to him as your vision begins to blur with tears.

Mercifully, he doesn’t ask again. König lies at your side, mimicking the way you curl onto your side and again… he smiles, though this one is unlike the way he looked upon you by the stream. It lacks that boyish twinkle, the intensity of the lines forming beneath his eyes: it’s more of a pleasantry than anything genuine.

“You are married?”

“What? No…” You swallow hard, toying with a thread that’s begun to pull free from your hip, twirling it between your fingers. “…not yet.”

“Ach… but you belong to another, ja?”

You want to howl out your frustrations up to every god and goddess above, burn through the Elysian with your misery alone. You wish, yearn for the courage to cast off that mask and lure him in with a kiss, erase any memory of Gaius with the kindling of a truer passion.

Your voice doesn’t come, and your fingers steadily pluck at that thread, feeling more unsure of yourself with each passing second.

Again, your bastard god grants his mercy as he raises a hand to cup your jaw, the warmth of him singing away the memory of the weathered hand that had touched you there before. His hand is so much larger, strong and riddled with calluses; you swear that you can feel his own fluttering pulse through his fingertips when they press against your bottom lip.

“Not after tonight,” he hums.

When the shroud is tugged up and his mouth meets your own, König’s kiss is exactly what you had expected: a sloppy, eager clash of teeth and tongue. He steadies you with a hand pressed to the back of your neck as his grunts filter past your own lips. Your eyelids flutter, then close as you allow your mind to finally relax, coaxed into the ethereal with each swipe of his tongue and pleasured sound drawn up from the well of his throat.

He pulls away with a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth, gazing down at you as though he’s been deprived of light for the entirety of his being and had only now met the sacred flame. It’s incomparable to how easily your betrothed would cast his scrutiny; though the hunger is similar, there’s something far more enticing here.

“Do you trust me?”

König’s voice holds no apprehension as he speaks; the question is just as blunt as each bulge of muscle and peek of teeth through the grin on his face, only set aglow by dim candlelight in the tent. You don’t nod, don’t even reply immediately as you stare at him a little dumbly, still intoxicated by the ferocity of his affections.

“… I don’t know.”

He moves a hand over your eyes then, gently presses his palm over you until you’re bathed in such darkness that you shudder. It’s a disconcerting feeling— not because you fear him so much anymore, but because if this were Gaius you would have already been squirming away, rushing to hide. You want to kiss his palm, revel in whatever piece of him he gives to you.

“Sehr schön,” König coos to you in a whisper. You settle further, allowing the tension to leave you almost entirely as you fall into the velvety embrace of all of this darkness and the pelts beneath your back.

He shifts at your side, and almost immediately there’s a cold chill at your collar, something sharp that he rakes over the softness of your flesh, then down, down to snag at the top of your dress. Your gasp is quieted by a kiss as you feel his weight shift over you, and just as you begin to melt into it… the fabric begins to tear, shreds as he guides his blade further, past your breasts and along your sternum, your belly, further.

“Don’t..,” you manage to hiss against his mouth, immediately taken over by the feeling of his tongue lapping at your teeth. Your nipples peak at the sudden chill as your dress lies ruined to either side of your body, thighs trembling as the blade hooks along the linen concealing your maidenhood.

One more generous, gentle cut and that comes away too.

You’re entirely bare when he retreats to your side again, one hand still clutching the blade as he moves his head to lay over your breast and… never, never had you heard of a man lapping and suckling at a woman like a pup, but that’s what he begins to do; his tongue circles over the bud, tugging it between his teeth until you feel the wetness between your legs beginning to drip to smear upon the mattress.

It’s caught, quick, as he turns the blade in his hand to slot its grip against your sex. It’s cold, but his mouth is warm, attentive as he licks between the valley of your breasts to capture your other nipple.

The noises that leave your mouth are filthy, rivaled only by the sounds you’ve heard in brothels… König only seems appreciative of them, muttering praises as he grinds the cold metal against your cunt, careful as the ridges of it graze your throbbing bud, gathering your slick to make the glide that much easier.

When he moves to dive for your breasts again, you cradle his jaw in your hands, peering up at those moonlight eyes in silent pleading as you capture him in another burning kiss.

The blade turns again, its sharpness directed down so as to not bring you any harm as you desperately roll your hips against its coldness. He groans into your mouth, panting softly just as you begin to whine.

You’ve never heard of a man making love to a woman with a weapon… or of one suckling at her as though she’s lactating when she is not, but… it has the desired result when your body tenses and all that can escape you is a frail whisper of his name.

The heat sweeps from your foggy head to your middle as your thighs squeeze around the damned thing and König presses his lips to your temple. You climax for him, chasing wave upon crashing wave of intensity with stilted bucks of your hips. He clicks his tongue in approval when you’ve finished, holds up the seax again, smeared wet with your essence and twinkling as though it had been bathed in the stream once more.

You know with a certainty you’ve lost Juno’s favor. If he chose you to carve you open with his come-stained blade the goddess would not make her descent to save you.

“Gut,” he whispers into your hair. To your horror, maybe even fascination, he raises the dirtied silver to his lips and licks your sweetness from it with another low groan.

“Wh… why would you do that..?” Your rapture feels almost shameful as you watch him lap at the weapon, the long tongue meeting silver only warmed by your heat.

He’s mad, certainly, and you only find yourself further infatuated: you reason that you must be too…

König doesn’t answer you as he sets the seax aside again, not in words. Instead, he cups your face and directs your lips to his own where he laps at your tongue, suckling it in the same way he did your tits. It’s slow and sensual, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, smell yourself on him as his hands find your waist and tug you closer until you’re lying almost entirely over him; one leg thrown over his thigh with your hands splayed over his chest.

The titan is hard beneath the pelt he wears, felt against the plushness of your thigh, the brown fur wrapped around his hips is pushed to rise where it’s harboring something akin to a pillar… but he doesn’t force you to settle over it, makes no attempt to tug it free, despite its throbbing against your leg,

“I needed your blessing,” he mutters, a hand settling over your naked hip, tracing small shapes with his thick fingers. The other finds your shoulder to pull you into a cuddle, pulled so tightly against him that you’re hardly able to discern where your warmth ends and his begins.

“A.. a blessing?” Your voice comes as a trembling croak, head pressed into the gap between a broad shoulder and the column of his throat.

“We are leaving in the morning.”

“Oh…”

“I will give you the horse when I return.”

Your head feels like a mess. You’re not even certain of what you’ve just done— did that count as sex? Would he tell the Roman soldiers he works alongside of how he had convinced some pompous aristocrat’s lovely bride to lustrate his blade with her essence? You could hit him, demand the horse now and bolt, but you only melt against him: eyelashes fluttering as exhaustion takes hold and the tension leaves you entirely.

“That’s all?”

König pets you, running a hand along your spine and back up to repeat. He presses his nose to the crown of your head, nuzzling against it until his hand is freed from your form and only then does it coax its way beneath the fur covering his groin.

He laughs at the weak sound of surprise you elicit when that beast is pulled free, another, thicker weapon curled in his hand. The thickness, the length of it that tapers off to a layer of skin, eager and pulled back from the tip, leaking beads of milky white: something that would surely tear you if he were not careful, and the thought brings you to squeeze your thighs together, concealing the leaking, thrumming thing between.

“I will fuck you when I return, too,” he huffs into your scalp, causing you to further bury your face against him, intent not to let him see the effect his derangement seems to have on you. You would let him bury himself into your chest, steal the breath from your very lungs, but you don’t breathe a word of it. Something tells you it’s a mutual thing, perhaps it was all spelled out for you when he asked for your favor rather than from any of his foreign gods.

You count your undeserved blessings. He seems sated only ruining you with his touch for the time being, you’re very comfortable here, and though you dare not speak it… you do find this brute charming. He speaks where you fail to, whispers of your beauty being like that from myths and dreams.

He doesn’t force you to leave, either, only paws at and squishes your breasts until you squeak and whine your protests, already sore from his teeth leaving their marks all over them. When he tires of his fun, you’re pulled into a crushing embrace where he rests his head against your own, blankets you in himself entirely. You were right… the shadow he casts over you blackens out the sun, moon, stars all of it; dulls the haze of carnality with something far more tender.

Your night becomes entirely made up of König: his scent like forest and sweat, the furs from beasts he’s chased down and slain, his soft breathing and gentle snores when he does fall asleep against you.

No dreams come to you, no lemures to haunt you with their wails and flames. Not even Juno descends to punish you. You’re warm and soft and contented like the kittens curled up in clusters along the streets on cold nights.

It’s the first night of peace you’ve had in some time.

When morning comes, the brightness of the sun peeking through the flaps of the tent, you wake to find König already out of bed. He stands at the far side of the tent, strapping on pelts and gear and the leather pouch filled with wine. His seax is held up in utter revelry, and mortifyingly enough… you immediately note that he hadn’t cleaned away the remnants of what occurred last night either.

When you bring yourself to sit upright, the giant only drops to his knees at your feet and curls his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to the valley between your breasts through the thick fabric of the hood.

And… it almost hurts, to realize then that this is something you’ve longed for. You’re not arrogant enough to believe yourself worthy of some foreign worship, but he seems to liken you of some devout little acolyte, as if your come and kisses could grant him favor while he butchers poor souls all in favor of your empire: the people he had likely been communing and trading with only months before. Traitorous, mad, utterly enthralling man… You’re not certain whether you want to relieve yourself from him or guide him back into bed for more frenzied pleasures.

“You will stay?,” he murmurs into your skin as his kisses trail up to your neck.

You hadn’t even considered what you would do, it never came to mind, but staying in a shoddy tent in wait for him to return with the horse he’s promised was far from favorable. You’re out from the city, still without food or weapons, your dress and underclothes are a torn ruin on the floor, nothing but the wind and the stream and König’s stinking furs… The bathhouse seems to call to you now more than ever. Your lower lip trembles when you think of returning to that stale place, to be questioned endlessly about your affairs from your ‘doting’ husband-to-be…

Your head shakes solemnly. “I’ll wait for you at home.”

König drags you up onto your feet and closer as he savors in another embrace. You’re cloaked in a gray pelt, tied up and over your shoulders like the gaudiest tunic in the world, but you bur your nose into its shoulder, humming in contentment when you find that it smells just like him.

He’s more confident and proud than you’ve ever seen him now. The filthy blade remains strapped to his hip when he gathers you up to sit at his front on the back of his horse— a dark stallion with a pelt the same shade as the night sky. It doesn’t even seem to flinch at your combined weight, just canters along smoothly as König directs it through the sprawling field and past the stream to lead you back towards the city’s gates.

You’re not thinking of Juno or Gaius or traditions when König cinches your waist with a thick arm to draw you in closer; there’s nothing but fluffy warmth pooling in your chest sent by Venus when you feel his hips shift to press himself against your back. His head dips to kiss at your neck, your burning cheeks, shoulder, anyplace that he can.

When the horse comes to a halt with a sharp tug of its makeshift reigns, some length of rope and twine, his hand is at your rear.

Everything’s incensed and floral when you’re lowered to the ground, when he lifts the hood to grin down at you, not only with his eyes this time. It’s a sheepish, gluttonous grin, drunk off your very presence.

“I will come back for you, meine Göttin.”

And you know now, that the palm reading had been true— there’s your wolf in preparation for a hunt, the man who’s unwittingly aiding you in your pursuit of freedom painted with mountains and vast, blue skies. You will convince him to come away too, lay down the blade you’ve blessed with your pleasure. A summer wedding… far from wars of greed and smirking old men.

Your head swims when he bids you farewell, rides off on his massive horse back to his camp to gather his own men to march. You watch him go, breath caught up in your throat, a burning longing in your chest that you can not entirely dismiss.

The walk of shame only comes when you’ve crossed the threshold separating König’s world from your own.

The stink of the streets immediately washes away any lingering scent of him on your skin, on his pelt you now hide away with your arms curled around your waist.

You catch your reflection in stagnant water held in a pot, swaying and ebbing gently as others breeze past you.

You’re in a foreigner’s clothes that just barely crest your thighs, hair a mess and the carmine you had worn to bring a false blush to your cheeks is smeared over an eye and down to your jaw. You look the part of an adulteress, maybe, even as you dip your hand into the water to wash the makeup from your face.

There isn’t much to be done about the marks left over the hints of your chest revealed beneath the fur, but you make your way home without anyone even bothering to ask. If anything, the festivities from the night prior only seemed to subdue the standard bustle. You could only imagine how exhausted the hungover soldiers may have been as they undoubtedly prepare for the expedition König had mentioned.

That overrides your shame, sobers you from that sugary elation somewhat. You’re worried. It’s not just about König himself, not about the threat of fucking you when he returns left unfulfilled— though, those are enough to make your heart begin it’s hammering, rabbit in the throes of a chase. The horse, too. That proud stallion, your hope of a swift escape before winter comes and it’s all lost. If his drunken allies fail him in battle, if some other barbarian’s spear strikes true and fells your titan then the dream is dispelled into smoke, sunken down to river bed to be lashed away by frothing waters.

Whoever decided that the day after revelry would be the time to move was a fool indeed. The deities couldn’t look at you after last night, you know if they saw their noses would be turned up in disgust… perhaps not Jupiter’s, he’s more guilty than you could ever be, but your offerings had never been for him had they?

You fret and hiss below your breath as you wind your way back to the villa with its white walls and terracotta-tiled roof. The sun bears down on you like the flame of your dreaming. You’re afraid again, letting the lemures find their way in through the gaps in your shivering limbs to haunt your dreams.

Gaius is not there to greet you, likely still recovering from his own fevered night. You’re grateful for that.

The little altar to Juno still stands atop a table in your room, the burner still smells of cinnamon, dried flower petals and a dish of honey still sat there entirely untouched. She hasn’t split it in two, abandoned you, but it does feel that way when you peel away the fur.

Your fingers nudge at the bruises laden into your skin, the marks that look like teeth to either side of your breast. You press into them, gently, immediately feel that coil of heat, and you don’t want to sleep. That fire from your dream only seems to have become a part of you: you know it intimately now, it comes with pleasure and bite marks and a heavy weight harbored in your chest.

You cinch your waist and tie your stola at your shoulder, brush your hair out with a comb made of ivory. You rub your bruises with a salve made of honey, bandage up what you can and hide away what you can’t by tugging up your breast band.

The same as any other day, you take to the streets of the city and peruse the marketplace, take to the empty bathhouse to wash away all that’s consumed you over the past day. And you watch the soldiers go as they march through the streets, women and children waving away their fathers and brothers with prayers and sentimental words.

They don themselves in red, clutching their gladiuses, spears and heavy shields as they filter out and away where your very being longs to be. Their faces are giddy, almost: the prospect of pillaging and felling each enemy another delightful treat just like those found in the gladiator pits and amidst rolling with the whores in their brothel beds. You can not hope to understand their mirth, the happiness in any of the civilians either.

You watch them leave wistfully, lips pressed to a thin line, fingers digging into the waist of the stola. You down your fair share of the wine Gaius has left in your cellar. The day merely passes you by, the sewing left undone on the floor, altar bathed in cinnamon and saffron as you make your prayers and beg like any dog.

The mattress feels lonely and sad without the warmth of a body made for war curled against you, without his breath in your hair and his arms wrapped around you. It’s cold, too, and far harder than his, all straw and thin sheets. None of this feels like home.

Your eyes eventually close as the last of the sun’s rays begin to die, blotted out by the dark, untouched by torchlight.

You dream of fire.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig x you #cod fanfiction #f: only other #tw: dubcon

[creatingblackcharacters]

Lesson 4: "Do Black People Blush?" Bringing brown complexions to life

Inspired by this ask

So, do Black people blush?

We are human beans 🤣! Blood rushes through our veins! This isn't just a nonblack misconception either; I know plenty of Black people who think we don't blush. Stop saying that shit. It's not true! If you thought this at any point, I'm glad you learned, TAKE THIS L IN SILENCE! I am sparing you the indignity of saying this out loud, ever! 🙏🏾

Jokes aside, the actual issue usually lies with the depiction or description. Depending on our skin tone, most of us aren’t going to turn ‘bright pink’ with a blush (if you write that in your y/n or roleplaying fics, that’s an easy way to negate a good amount of your potential Black audience). Think of a cherry coke- how you still see the tint of red in it, but it’s still brown? Like that.

One way to dodge this in writing is to say “flushed”, or “ears/cheeks became hot”. This is describing the physical action of blushing, without having to describe the color of someone’s face. If you’re really nervous about not writing us correctly via blushing… there you go!

Colorism

Okay. So this is something I’ll likely do its own lesson on, because there’s no way I could encapsulate it into one little blurb and I’m not going to try! After asking the internet an admittedly confusing question 😅, one thing I was able to reaffirm is that people have different opinions on what ‘dark’/’darker’ skin tones mean. People recognize that different cultural upbringings and contexts will change what that means! And that’s good- that an important part of the larger conversation!

However, I want everyone to understand that you don’t have to be Black to be dark/’darker’ skinned- you can be Black and very pale! We discussed that in the last lesson! There’s no ‘singular point of brown-ness’ that designates a Black person as ‘Black’- there’s an entire sociological conversation behind that!

My point is, this isn’t a ‘oh Black people OVERALL aren’t depicted blushing properly’- because there are ‘lighter’ skinned Black people that wouldn’t suffer as much from this particular issue.

Blushes and Undertones

Three Links for Tips on Medium to Deep Skintones

Different complexions are going to require different colors, there's not a 'one fits all' option. However! What we want to do for deeper brown complexions is to focus on BOLDER, not lighter! Putting light pink or a white person’s ‘nude’ on our skin will often make us look ashy and undercolored. And we don’t like looking ashy.

"It looks like they're ashy!"

What do we mean when we say this about a piece? Well, worse case scenario, it looks like this:

This was NOT one of KD’s better days, and he was thoroughly mocked for this. He got more than enough money for lotion! Anyway, when we say that your art looks ‘ashy’, it means that it feels like the skin of your Black character is gray, or dead. Like a corpse. We don’t look like that unless things are dire.

In fan and professional art, you can sometimes find people user a grey undertone for deeper shades of brown on Black people: NO! We are NOT grey! We are not pitch! Many skin shades of brown can be found based in the oranges and the reds. Based on lighting and depth of complexion, you might even have to go into the blues and purple to capture the brown you’re seeking.

I’m begging us to stop desaturating the browns we use. We can see the difference. It’s usually one of those ‘White Man Painted Brown’ techniques I discussed before; an attempt to ‘make a character Black’ without really committing to it because the brown skin tone ‘doesn’t look good’ to the artist. Brown is beautiful! Commit to brown! Commit to the full design!

Put in the work to create the brown you need!

While this is a traditional art piece (follow Ellie Mandy Art, a Black creator), I want you to notice how she incorporated many colors to create the deep brown for her piece.

-8:05 for the list of paints

-8:05-17:29 for the process

She used black, yes, but it was nowhere near the base color. She incorporated blues and reds and other browns to capture that depth. It wasn’t ‘toss in a bunch of black or grey to get the brown darker’. (SKIP TO THE END TO SEE HOW GOOD THIS PIECE IS, BTW. I felt like I was in the presence of a master watching her do this, fr. We gotta pay artists more.)

I want to use this model as an example to show that while we might get very dark, we're still not 'pitch black'. You can see the flat of the black of their clothes versus their deep complexion. They're not the same!

Even if your character's complexion is very deep brown into black, you still need to incorporate ‘life’ into them (if that makes sense). And you know what? Even if you want to describe your characters as having ‘black’ skin, that’s fine, but there are still other ways to do it- obsidian, the night sky, velvet. Find a way to romanticize our skin (there’s an entire conversation about how ‘black’ is used in a negative connotation in language and storytelling, and we’re ALSO going to have that conversation later!)

A Real Simple Way (i.e. how I do it)

I tried, but I cannot find my skin tones palette link anymore. I’m sorry! But, it’s been essential to my character design. If you don’t ever buy anything else, I would HIGHLY suggest investing in a skin tones palette for your art program.

Everyone say hello to Philia, my OC! I’m used to drawing her, so I’m going to use her as an example. Now remember, I am still an amateur! But this is how I do it!

Admittedly, I do the one on the left when I'm feeling lazy, but more often I'll take the time to do the one on the right. Now here’s the thing- I’m not actually blending the red into the brown. This is on a whole different layer. What I’m actually doing is adding to and fading the color until it’s at a color that I feel is natural. There's definitely an easier, smarter way to do this, but that’s what I like to do- I like to see the stages slowly until I’m comfortable.

You have to mess around and practice; see what looks good and what doesn't. Go into the reds, the oranges, the pinks and observe how it looks- I may go through multiple before I settle on one. It’s really just a matter of getting used to drawing Black skin tones and how they look in different lighting. This one's not perfect for sure.

Resources

Here are some really good posts and Youtube videos on how both to paint skin, and to add blush tones. And remember, as per my usual, the best way to learn how the draw and paint Black people is to follow and learn from Black artists! Another good idea might be looking into Black makeup and Black SFX makeup artists. As people that work with skin on a regular basis, they would be a good place to study what colors can and should be used on different skin colors as a whole.

ami0amii

Likelihood Art

Tiara Anderson

Proko

Sinix

Ross Draws

In summary, focus on bolder colors, be willing to test until you get what you need, and practice! All you can do to get better is to practice! And as always: it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black art #black artists #black character design

[highpri3stess]

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 4: The Calm

Pairing: Izana Kurokawa x fem reader x Manjiro sano

series summary: your grevious sin was emma standing up for you and now, you were going to pay the heavy price of destroying their perfect family dynamic

chapter summary: emma decided you needed a break from all the stress of life and takes you to her home for a vacation and for a moment, you forget that reality is often disappointing .

word count: 12.5k

cw: DARK CONTENT, nsfw, male masturbation, obsssession, stalking, blackmail, academic fatigue, poverty, misogyny, objectification, one mention of unwanted pregnancy, implied drugging, age gap relationship, fluff to heavy angst, minor character death, murder, mental break down, panic attack, gang related violence,  gun violence, metions of drug related business (c*caine), dubious consent, slight manipulation, thigh grinding, mutual masturbation, fingering (fem. receiving), jerking off, nipple sucking, praise kink, squirting, proper aftercare.

masterlist||chapter 3||chapter 5

MIKEY never really understood what being in love entailed.

He knew what familiar love was, the way Shinichiro treated him and his siblings with so much gentility and grace, even falling into the darkest depths of pure sin just to make sure that his siblings were fed at least. Emma waking him up in the morning and dragging him around just so that they could attend fairs together, always supporting him. Hell, even Izana could be kind, taking care of him anytime he got sick and covering up for some of his stupid pranks.

He knew what friendship was too; Takemitchi’s unwavering belief in Mikey that he could be the best. Draken’s honesty and care. Keisuke’s pure love for him despite his obvious faults. Sanzu’s unwavering loyalty.

But what he’s feeling right now… what he was experiencing right now is alien.

An all consuming passion that has his mouth dry and hands sweaty. Constant thoughts occupy his brain, no matter the situation. His heart beating faster and faster until he was sure it would burst out of his chest.

And at the center of it all was you.

It was like a war was going on in his head. He was disgusted by you- frustrated at how kind you are. You’re kind to everybody and it’s not even about who deserves it or who doesn’t anymore, it’s the fact that your grace was extended for everyone. Hinata whom you barely knew and who was obviously jealous of your friendship with Emma -because she told him about it. Mitsuya who despite his infatuation with you - still ignored you at first and refused to tell you the messed up shit his so called friend did. Draken with his ever rising jealousy when it came to you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

They were all hypocrites. Every single one of them and yet you still hang out with them.

It boiled his blood. Here he was being outright honest with you, not hiding how he felt inside. Mikey didn’t want to lie and pretend that he didn’t hold some resentment for you so he showed his true colors, to let you see the true him. He was being vulnerable with you, peeling off the fake persona to show you how he really feels about you, something he never does.

He showed you the truth. Things he’d never show anyone because he thought you would understand him. That you would get the message.

And what do you do in return?

You throw his vulnerability right back in his face by fucking avoiding him.

He groaned against his pillow, pressing his face down to avoid anyone hearing him moan your name, knees pressed on his king sized bed, hunched over with his night trousers pulled down to reveal his cock- slightly darker than his skin, an angry red tip with hot pre leaking from it, curved a little to the left. His hands worked in tandem to the rotten images of you, face down, ass up while he fucked you hard from behind- jerking his hips into the stupid fleshlight that Izana had gifted him for his last birthday, wishing it was your tight pussy he was rutting his aching cock into.

“Ngh mhghh (name) fuck, need your pussy so bad. S-shit”

Mikey nearly felt ashamed of himself. Reducing him to this whining pathetic mess that was unable to cum without thinking about you. Look at the way you treated him now; avoiding him whenever he tried to walk up to you after your classes and following the back door. Only giving him one line answers any time he tried to talk to you when you were with Emma. Visibly deflating around him and stepping away when he was close to you.

He did nothing wrong to you! All the times you both hooked up was what you wanted. You always jumped into his arms albeit with a little prompting from him. Why were you behaving like this? Didn’t girls like being eaten out? Why were you so hard to understand?

Beads of sweat rolled down his face to his neck, staining his nightshirt caught between his teeth. His abdomen flexed slightly as his mind started floating towards lustful images of him punishing you for ignoring him. Your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, hands tied behind your back while he fucked into you, making you watch as you moaned like a pornstar. His wrist worked up his cock faster, picking up the pace as the fleshlight sucked his cock deep, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Ah, ah (name)” he muffled, his brain growing fuzzy with arousal as he thrusted messily into the fleshlight, unable to think straight as he reached the edge, his balls tightening at his impending release. “Ah, (name), (name)-” he whimpered over and over again, tears spilling from his eyes as he fucked into his fleshlight fast and hard, wishing it was your pussy.

“(Name), (n-name)- fuck”

His hips stuttered as he gave one last hard thrust and came hard, rutting his hips to ride out his orgasm as ropes of cum splattered into the fleshlight. With a groan he pulled out, revealing a trail of cum oozing from the sex toys, dripping down the lips along with his slick, sensitive cock slowly growing limp.

His breathing was heavy, trying to regain his full senses again as he collapsed on his bed, tired. It was clear that this unnatural affinity towards you would drive him down a long winded road that would bring upon impending doom.

That is, if he hadn’t started already.

   “YOU’RE not performing as well as you ought to, Is there a problem?”

You could think of a myriad of answers to professor Hanabi’s question, but all of them would sound unbelievable to anyone with a good head on their shoulders.

You didn’t know where to even start as you stood in front of the older man. Maybe it was the crushing feeling of guilt that followed you around, flashing the images of your sinful act before your very eyes each time you closed them to sleep. Or the invasive dreams when you do manage to sleep off, the Sano brothers taking advantage of you in different, shameful ways until you’re screaming awake, tears rolling down your eyes.

It’s apparent your condition was far worse than before. Concealers could hide your eye bags, but they couldn’t hide the slump in your shoulders or the flash of fear whenever you lock eyes with any of the Sano brothers, especially Mikey.

And Mikey is not helping matters either. It was almost like he was everywhere you went, following you like your shadow and trying to speak to you. You’ve tried making it clear that you did not want anything to do with him by your actions, but it seemed that each time you pushed him away, he would come back in ten folds. He had somehow gotten your number and no matter how many times you blocked him, he would always, always find a way to get your line.

When he realized calling wouldn’t work, he resorted to texting you everyday. Asking you things like “How was school?” “Who was that boy you were laughing with?” Or even threatening to release your nudes if you block him again, before showing pictures of you in the shower that you were sure you did not take yourself.

It meant he snuck into your room again. Or long before that. You don’t know. It didn’t matter.

You don’t understand his behavior. He’s already talking to Emma and everything is fine now, why is he bothering you? At least Izana barely acknowledges your presence and has left you alone, so why can’t Mikey do the same?

You had used the last of your saved up money to change the locks soon after that message, leaving you nearly penniless. You were starving, surviving on barely a meal and lack of sleep while looking for a new job. You had sold off some of your old jewelry that people liked because they were ‘vintage’ and still it wasn’t enough to help you with anything.

With all these happening to you, it was a no brainer as to why school was the last thing on your mind right now.

Your gaze casted down to the big F written on your script. You had thought at least your make up test would be good enough for a C with how stressed you were, but apparently, you were wrong about that one too.

It didn’t make any sense, you had Hinata and Emma mark your question paper when you came out and they said you did well. So how did this happen?

And of all courses it had to be the most difficult of them all with an equally difficult lecturer, who happened to be the Dean of the English studies and Language department; professor Daniel Hanabi.

“I-i don’t understand professor-” you started, about to say the words ‘I did everything right’ but quickly stopped yourself. Professor Hanabi was a strict man who prided himself in being correct every time. Assuming that you did everything right would mean that he was wrong and would only get him angry with you, reducing your chances at any form of negotiation. Instead, you changed the tune of the conversation. “- I thought I was prepared-”

“You cannot keep assuming you are prepared for anything, Ms. (Last name).” He hissed, silencing you immediately. You bowed your head in embarrassment as the blonde haired man started tearing at you. “How do you assume you are well prepared for a course, my course specifically? It is either you are or you’re not and looking at this excuse of a test score, even with all the time I graciously gave you after your sick day, you still failed. And you know why you failed? It’s because you’re a moron! A bimbo with nothing in that head of yours-”

You stayed silent as the man continued barking at you, tuning out his hurtful words with every curse and insult thrown in your face. You bit back any form of tears so that he wouldn’t find another reason to shout at you.

“- everyday I spend my time trying to impart knowledge onto you people and in turn you all disappoint me. What do you have to say for yourself?”

You took a deep breath, holding back tears of humiliation as you clasped your hands together. You knew the best thing to do was to tolerate his insults so that he could give you another chance. “I apologize, Professor Hanabi.” You began with a humble voice. “It was my fault. You gave me a lot of time to study and I failed to deliver. But please sir, you have to let me try again! I can do better. Please!”

The room fell silent again after your plea, the only noticeable noise being the whirling of the AC in the dean's office. A lump began to form in your throat at the tense atmosphere, wondering what next he was going to say.

“Fine.” He said, making you sigh in relief, one good thing finally happening in your life for the first time in months now. “I’ll let you retake the test next week.”

“Thank you sir!” You said appreciatively. “I’ll do my very best-”

He waved at you dismissively, not in the mood for any sort of thearatics, now facing the rest of his papers. “Just leave my office before I change my mind.”

   EMMA hummed to the rhythm of the music blasting from her earpods as she folded her clothes for the week.

It had been so long since she last went home to see her big brother and just generally slept in her own bed again. No matter how comfy school was, nothing could compare to people waiting on her hand and foot, not lifting a single finger to do anything. If anyone heard her thoughts now, they would make comments on how she’s so spoiled -which they wouldn’t be wrong, it’s just that she didn’t care.

The door to her room opened and slammed shut, snapping Emma out of her thoughts as you ran towards her tearfully. Abandoning the clothes she was folding, the blond girl quickly rushed to you, enveloping you in a tight hug while you broke down in her arms, sobs shaking your entire body.

“(Name)? What’s wrong?” She tried to ask you, but all that led to was you sobbing louder into her bosom, scaring her. What could have happened to you? Was it her brothers again? Did they hurt you?

Any attempt to get you to speak was futile, your body racked with sobs as you held onto her, years wetting her top. Each cry was like a stab to her heart, twisting the blade into her chest as she could only hold you while you wailed. Holding onto you, the girl guided you to her bed, sitting you down so that she could comfort you, rubbing circles into the small of your back. “It’s okay.” She whispered, putting her chin on your head, trying to get you to relax. “Let it out, I’m here. I’m here for you.”

Eventually, your sobs turned into quiet whimpering, your voice hoarse and cracked. Emma doesn’t stop cradling you, rocking you back and forth until you stopped crying, only sniffling back snot and tears. Once she was sure you were okay, she pulled away from you to get some wet wipes. Putting a hand underneath your chin, she started wiping your face clean, removing the snot from your nose and dried tears altogether.

“Is there something wrong with me?”

Emma frowned at your question, her heart shattering at how sad you looked. All the light and wonder that once shown through your eyes had disappeared, leaving you with a gaping abyss. You looked so tired, your eye bags weighing heavily underneath your lids. You had lost a significant amount of weight by just how frail your body felt underneath her touch.

You were fading before her very eyes. She thought maybe it was the stress of the tests, but it was clear something else was wrong.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Emma replied, before dropping the wipes aside. “Who hurt you? Tell me. Was it Mikey? Izana?”

For a second, there is a flash of fear in your eyes. It was so brief, but it quickly disappeared from wherever it came, worrying Emma. “Not your brothers.” You quickly interjected. Emma wanted to press you further, but one look from you told her it was probably best she didn’t ask about whatever was going on. “It’s the Dean.”

“The dean?” She tilted her head in confusion. Professor Hanabi could be very caustic, and noting by how soft you were, sometimes you weren’t the best in dealing with hurtful words thrown at you.  “What did he do? Did he insult you?”

You paused, looking at your hands as you twisted them in your laps, contemplating on how you would put what happened in words. “I… he showed me my scores from the make-up test and they were bad.”

“Oh, (name)!” her voice was sympathetic, pulling you into another hug again, comforting you gently. “I know how hard you studied for that test. It’s not your fault.”

“It-it’s just…” you broke into a sob again “I’ve been so stressed lately and looking for a job and and-”

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” she whispered, shushing you, before pulling away again to look at you. “You need some time off school to recuperate, you look so worn out and tired.”

“But how?” You cried, wiping a tear away from your face. “I don’t even have the money to even eat, let alone escape from school. I can’t go home either!”

Emma frowned, realizing how callous she sounded. She had forgotten you had no one to go to and she was the only one you had left. She could go home and unwind while you didn’t have such a privilege at all.

‘Wait.’

“Come with me.”

You stopped mid-sob at her abrupt suggestion, your brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“Come home with me,” it was an amazing idea. She was sure you wouldn’t mind seeing where she lived and there was a whole lot of space for anyone to stay there. Besides, she could think about her romantic life later and she’s sure that as long as you don’t see anything remotely problematic, her elder brother wouldn’t mind. “My loser brother is the only one at home and he wouldn’t bother us. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind extra company.”

“But Emma-”

“No buts!” It was already settled in her head, grabbing your hand in hers and dragging you with her towards her room door. “The car comes in two hours, so you need to dress up and pack your bags.”

As usual. No use arguing with Emma when her mind was made up.

  YOUR mouth hung open at the sheer magnificence of the Sano residence.

You’ve never seen such opulence before. Sure, the older man who offered to take your hand in marriage had a nice three story house, fully furnished. Back then you had assumed that it was the biggest house you had ever seen, seeing as it was far bigger than the small terrace building you found yourself in with your family.

This? It took your breath away.

From the car that drove both you and Emma, you could see the numerous, neatly arranged and cut hedges, flowers of different varieties blooming between bushes. You caught sight of a water fountain in the middle of the compound, quietly gushing down, before trailing your sight to the magnificent house that stood proudly.

Emma noticed your baffled expression, quietly chuckling to herself as she watched you gaze at everything in child-like wonder. One thing she loved about you was how you seemed to appreciate things she had gotten used to, bringing life to something she was bored with. She spent most of her teenage years in this house, to the point that she complained that the dorm room Shinichiro got for her was far too small when she first entered university.

It wasn’t until your fresh perspective came along, that she realized how foolish she sounded back then.

The car came to a stop right in front of the house and an armed guard was quick to open the doors for both of you. Emma slid out of the car gracefully, before holding out her hand to you- grasping your warm palm in hers tight and helping you leave the car awestruck. You glanced around, gasping at how beautiful the house and architecture was; everything perfectly sculpted and put together.

“Emma, your house is gorgeous.” you breathed out, your eyes shining oddly. “I’ve only seen this in magazines, but even they cannot compare to how beautiful it is.”

Emma chuckled, squeezing your hand gently, her soft yellow eyes cascading on your awestruck face. “We should head inside, my brother hates being kept waiting.” She whispered to you, before turning to the rest of the guards, her voice switching into a more demanding tone.  “Her boxes are the light blue ones, take them to the guest room in the main wing.”

Your eyes widened as you saw them take your box, as if snapping you out of your trance. You’ve never had anyone taking your stuff for you now- not when you can do it yourself. “Wait, let me help-” you started, moving towards the boot of the vehicle to help out only for Emma to drag you back to her side.

“Don’t be silly. You’re a guest here.” She said in a warning tone. “My guest and I’ll be damned if I let you lift a single finger.” 

“But…”

“(Name), I brought you here to relax.” She stated, dragging you towards the door as she spoke. Sometimes, Emma wished you let yourself be a tad more selfish like her and just enjoyed things that were given to you on a platter of gold instead of trying to repay any one that even tries to help you, back. “I know you’re not used to having people do things for you, but they’re paid for that. Let them do their job.”

You opened your mouth to speak again, but closed it when you saw the look of finality Emma had on her face. You knew that there was no point in arguing with her any more when she made up her mind and dropped the issue immediately.

The huge door opened for the both of them, revealing a beautiful interior, the cooler environment in contrast to the sunny exterior greeting them. You glanced around in awe at the furnished house, a beautiful chandelier glistening above your head whilst guarded men and servants walk around doing their daily tasks. As you walked through the wide space with Emma holding your hand, anyone walking by would bow their head and greet Emma with a short. “Welcome lady Emma.” Or “How was your journey lady Emma.” before being dismissed by the wave of her hand.

You realized no one looked her in the eye, but many of them had their eyes on you, as if sizing you up. You caught a servant even sneering at you before pretending to go back to dusting the knick knacks on the table.

The weight of hostility began to crush you and suddenly the awe of the beautiful house wore off, leaving you with a rather dreadful feeling you always had when you were in school. Like, you were out of place, standing next to someone you clearly don’t deserve to walk with.

You find yourself subconsciously walking closer to Emma and clinging onto her arm tight, which if she minded, she didn’t say anything to dissuade you. She was always your source of comfort, especially in a place where you weren’t familiar with and her presence was enough to remind you that at least one person wanted you here.

The stairways were straight, made of the finest wood, each step creaking under the weight of Emma’s loafer sandals until you reached the second floor. You realized that there were more guards than the ground floor securing this place and it made you a tad bit confused as to why. Emma never really went into full details on how her eldest brother handled his business, only giving you a vague description about twice before never bringing it up again in a conversation. You understood that, knowing fully well that it was best for you to be left in the dark in that sort of thing.

You knew how bad Toman and Tenjiku rumors were rampant in school, you didn’t want to imagine what a full fledged Yakuza with no school rules and the entire police force underneath their thumb could accomplish.

You both reached a large wooden door guarded by two stone faced guards, guns tucked by their sides in an obvious position. Emma boldly walked up to them with you in tow and they lowered their heads in respect for her. “Lady Emma.”

“Open the door, I want to see my big brother.”

“He is in a meeting with his executives but we can let you in-” One of them said, before his eyes trailed to you, hardening  his gaze. “You know the rules. No outsiders.”

Emma glared back at him, tightening her grip on you to prevent you from trying to leave. “I don’t care. Open the door.” She commanded.

“Lady Emma-”

“Don’t make me repeat myself if you still want your tongue attached to the rest of your mouth.”

You know you should be terrified of her right now as she made such a threat in a demanding voice, yet your heart beat faster. Even when she was serious, you couldn’t help but be drawn to that aura of hers.

The guard didn’t say another word as he slid the door open, letting the two of you in. You followed behind Emma, wondering how it would be like to meet the infamous Shinichiro Sano. She had told you that despite her brother’s status, he was still a soft man and had no luck with any woman because of how tactless he could be sometimes.

‘Emma never showed me a picture. I wonder if he would look like Manjiro, maybe an older version with blond hair as well and just as short. Or maybe he wasn’t just as attractive as his younger siblings in the slightest-’

Your words cut off as you caught sight of the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life.

Dark hair fell across his face, paired with the darkest irises you’ve ever seen before, reminding you of a shiny ebony wood. His eyes were heavy lidded, dark circles under them, contrasting with his warm toned skin. His nose was straight, falling into a slope to his lips; coloured dark pink, probably from smoking for long, yet pillowy, soft looking.

You suddenly felt self conscious, slightly grateful you listened to Emma’s advice to wear something nicer.

“Big brother Shin!”

‘What?’

Your eyes nearly fell out of your sockets as you watched her run over to the man standing in the middle, practically jumping onto him. He was quick to balance her before she fell, holding her tight as she hugged him with a loud squeal. You noticed how his frown relaxed, his dark eyes softening as he spun her around like a child before setting her down.

“You look gorgeous Em.” He said, his deep voice resounding in your ears, drawing you in further until you’re hypnotized. You watched with glossed over eyes as he twirls her around with one hand before pulling her into a warm hug again, making her giggle. The other men in the room watched the interaction with smiling faces, very obvious that they were used to seeing them like this.

“Look at how big you’ve grown Em.” Another one mentioned, his multicolored hair tied up in a half up, half down style while the sides were shaved in strategic places, lazy eyes fixated on the girl. “You’re a whole lady now, I’m sure guys would be rolling and tripping over you, Princess. No wonder when Izana came back yesterday, he was complaining about you not needing him anymore”

You tensed a bit. Great. Just when you thought you had peace of mind.

“No, no, remember she’s got a thing for that blonde haired guy…” a large man spoke, his tan skin contrasting with his white hair. “... Dra.. Dra… whatever his name is. She ain’t looking at another guy.”

You watched as Emma blushed, before burying her face into the silk shirt her brother wore to hide her embarrassment. “Stop… you guys…” she muffled.

“I think she shouldn’t put her eggs in one basket.” A man with a scar over his eye chirped in, his tone rather sarcastic in contrast to the happy aura. “After all, he’s a guy and guys get bored of being with one girl. Especially if you open your legs too much for him.”

Your mood shifted at the last person’s unjustified comment and from the annoyed look Emma shot at him, it was clear he was always used to saying things like this all the time. It was the type of thing your eldest brother used to say whenever he saw you talking to a boy, before going behind your back to lie about you whoring yourself out to discourage anyone from talking to you.

“She’s not like that.”

Your hand quickly shot up to your mouth the moment those words left them but it was too late. All eyes slowly fell on you, finally recognizing your presence after minutes of you standing there. You quickly lowered your head to avoid looking any of them in the eye, muttering a quiet ‘sorry’.

As if it would do anything.

The scarred man was the first to talk, his eyes scanning your body up and down with sudden interest, sending a wave of nausea up your throat. Why was he looking at you like that? “Ah, and who is this cutie, Emma?” He said sleazy. “A friend of yours?”

‘Am I some kind of predator magnet?’ You started to ask yourself. Emma suddenly pulled away from her brother and walked up to you, dragging you forwards until you were face to face with the rest of them.

“Yes, Uncle Takeomi.” She spat out rudely, eyeing him up and down in rapid movements. “She’s my friend and I’d appreciate it if you stay far away from her.”

“Easy Princess, he was just complimenting your friend.” the multicolored haired man tried to argue, but with the amused look on his face, you were sure he didn’t even believe his own words.

Takeomi must have a track record.

Emma rolled her eyes, confirming your suspicions that the scarred faced man - Takeomi- was some kind of degenerate who possibly went for younger girls. “Remember the last friend of Senju he complimented?” by knocking her up and making her get rid of it?” She spat. “I wonder Uncle, was she really into it or did you tamper with her dr-”

“Why don’t you introduce us to your friend, Emma?” the larger man cut her off, shooting her a warning glare that clearly said ‘an outside is here. Behave.’

Huffing in defeat, Emma turned her attention towards you again, bringing you a bit forward to face the group of men. “This is my friend, (Name) (Last name).” She introduced, her tone inflecting higher than usual. “(Name), this is Wakasa Imaushi” she pointed at the multi-colored haired man, who winked at you, making you feel a little bit shy.

“That’s Keizo Arashi, but I call him Uncle Benkei.” She pointed at the broad man, who only greets you with a kind smile, before narrowing her eyes at Takeomi.

“That’s Takeomi Akashi. And yes, he’s related to Senju and Haru.” she muttered the last part just for you to hear. “unfortunately”

Your eyes nearly fell out in shock. He looked so different from his younger siblings, not in a bad way, he was handsome but in a far rugged way as compared to Haru’s pretty boy aura. He also looked like a perver-

“And this is the man of the house, my big brother Shinichiro.”

Your eyes left the ground, slowly locking eyes with the dark haired man as your heart rammed against your ribcage. Up close he was more handsome, making your mouth grow dry as you stared at him, unable to form a proper sentence. 

He took your hand from your side and rose it to his lips, pressing his lips at the back, heating you up. “Nice to meet you, (Name). Emma’s talked so much about you.”

The way he called your name had your heart thudding in your chest, hard. “Really?” You squeaked out, almost embarrassed at how silly you sounded. “Was it all good?”

“I’d like to think teaching her to be prudent with her money and reducing her party animal tendency is a good thing-”

“Shut up!” She interjected in a playful tone, before pulling you away. “Anyways, we’re staying for a couple of days Shin. I’m going to show her around the place.”

You don’t have time to say a proper goodbye as Emma dragged you away from her brother and his friends.

Or notice how dilated Shinichiro’s eyes went as he watched you walk away with Emma.

 “(NAME), IS IT? Come sit with us.”

The evening breeze was cool against your exposed skin as you walked along the poolside barefooted. You could see Wakasa who had called you, a drink in hand, sitting alongside Benkei, who hunched over, his feet dipped into the pool with Takeomi, Izana and Shinichiro, smoking and discussing something in hushed tones.

On hearing your name, Shinichiro swerved his attention in your direction before putting out his cigarette in the ash bowl. You noticed how he pinched Izana’s hand mid-smoke, as if telling him to stop. You half expected the white haired man to complain, but he complied instead, pressing the butt of his cigarette to the ashtray and made space for you to sit between him and Shin.

“You didn’t have to stop,” you said, bunching up your skirt before dipping your feet into the cool water. “I don’t mind. I won’t bother you about it.”

Takeomi shrugged his shoulders in response, putting another stick between his lips as he got the clear from you and raising a light to his lips. “See Shin, told you she’s an angel compared to Emma-”

Shinichiro quickly snatched the lighter from his friend’s hand and put it in his pocket, earning an angry grunt from the scarred man. “She only said that so you won’t bother her about smoking.” he snapped.

“So what? Shin, she’s a university student, she probably smokes and drinks during parties.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Actually.” You cut them off before they could start arguing about it. It was best to give them clear answers to avoid misconceptions and awkward assumptions like last time. “I’ve never smoked or drank. Or go to parties.”

The rest of the men apart from Izana look at you with an incredulous look, as if they couldn’t believe their ears. Takeomi was the first to break the silence with a throaty laughter from his lungs, the cigarette falling from his lips. “Oh that’s rich. What next? You’re a virgin too?” He mocked.

He stopped laughing when your eyes fell to your lap, embarrassed at him mocking you for something you want to keep for someone special, blinking rapidly as the realization dawned on him. “Oh… OHHH, you really are a virgin.” he stated, making you grow uncomfortable. “What are you? A prude? What next, a purity ring that says you’re saving yourself for marriage?”

“Quit it Takeomi.” Benkei snapped at him, the environment tensed as you hung your head in embarrassment. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying it’s weird for her to still be saving herself for some guy when she dresses like she is ran throu-”

He gasped as Shinichiro suddenly shoved him into the water, before popping out of the water with a loud splash. A smile made its way to your face as you watched him sputter and cough out water, glaring directly at Shinichiro while his other friends laughed at his struggling. “I JUST PERMED MY HAIR.” He screamed at Shinichiro, who shrugged his shoulders in return. “I thought you needed to cool off. You were getting pretty heated.”

You withheld your laughter as Takeomi grumbled in the pool, swimming out to the edge and pulling himself out while muttering a low, “fuck you Shin” before storming off into the house. The said man turned to look at you apologetically, “Sorry. He’s an ass sometimes. You don’t need to do all that, by the way.”

For a moment it’s just the two of you in the pool side, his handsome dark eyes staring at you, drawing you into its endless void. Your heart rate picked up at the proximity, nearly leaving you extremely breathless “I-it’s okay.” You managed to stutter out, earning a wide toothed grin from him.

“Atta girl-”

He didn't finish his statement as Izana reached out his hand and suddenly shoved his elder brother into the pool, making the rest of them laugh at him as well. Shin bursts out of the pool, his clothes wet and sticking to his body, clearly confused as to why Izana pushed him. “What was that for now?”

“For pinching me.” He stated bluntly, causing the other guys to bark with laughter, nearly doubling over. “And you looked like you needed it.”

Shinichiro wanted to complain, but it died in his throat the second he saw you smile at him, admiring how good he looked even with his hair and clothes wet, sticking to his body. Instead, he shot you a smirk back as he flapped his arms to keep himself afloat.

This was going to be an interesting week.

  IZANA wondered why his brother kept spacing out ever since he began talking.

It was an odd behavior from his brother. It wasn’t noticeable at first, with Shinichiro nodding along to his explanation on how he traced the man who was siphoning their cocaine routes to other smaller gangs and occasionally saying “mmh” and “what happened next”. Eventually, his older brother stopped bothering to even pretend he was listening, zoning out thirty minutes into the conversation.

It would have been funny to Izana. Really. His brother looked so lost and occasionally would turn red in the face before letting out a sigh. In fact, in a lighter situation, Izana would have taken pictures and sent them to Mikey to cheer him up, of course. His younger brother has been upset that you were ignoring him- which was ridiculous to Izana because you WERE smart to do so, considering he decided to be an idiot and break into your room while you were there.

To be honest, Izana hadn’t even told Mikey you were here, knowing that he’d drop everything and come, ruining your alone time with Emma. Izana wasn’t that heartless, at least you deserve a little break from Mikey’s obsession and he got to see you in rather revealing clothes that he was sure was Emma’s idea. Mikey would just ruin the free show by telling you to cover up.

Plus, where’s the fun in telling Mikey the truth now, when he could just find out later?

Returning his attention back to Shinichiro, Izana wondered what could have had his brother in a chokehold. Whatever it was, it better be far more important than ten million dollars worth of drugs going missing.

“Am I boring you big brother?” Izana asked in a very harsh tone. It seemed to have snapped Shinichiro out of his dreams as he sat up straight, face red in embarrassment. Good. He should be embarrassed for wasting his goddamn breath after spending weeks tracking the mastermind behind the operation

“No, no, not at all-”

Izana shook his head, raising a hand to silence Shinichiro. “You have that stupid look on your face. The one where you blush and drool like an idiot. And that can only mean one thing.” Izana leaned forward, lowering his voice so that only both of them could hear what he had to say. “Who’s the woman?”

His face burned hot at Izana’s invasive question, before he turned his face away. “T-t-that’s an inappropriate question-” he started to stammer. “T-there’s no woman-”

“Come onnnn, don’t lie to me.” Izana laughed at his brother’s lame attempt to pretend. Even at thirty eight, Shinichiro still had a huge weakness for women, especially beautiful ones. It was why he was single too, because he didn’t want to endanger any other woman that would be seen with him. Even in brothels, despite his brother’s lack of tact, the women always complimented him for treating them gently and with respect.

Too bad neither of his younger ones took after him.

Izana wondered who the girl could be. Was it a new maid he hired? Or maybe a client's daughter he met while negotiating? Or a client herself? Shinichiro didn’t care how old they were anyways, so it could be-

“A-am I interrupting something?”

Izana resisted the urge to roll his eyes the second he heard your sickening sweet voice, before swiveling his head towards your direction. He had to admit, you looked extremely gorgeous today, wearing a blue flowery long sleeved top tied in the middle and exposing your midriff with a low waist skirt that was the same color and pattern, flowing down to your ankles. In your hand was a tray of orange juice in a large jar and two cups.

Your arms must be tired, carrying it all the way from the kitchen to the garden. Too bad.

“Yes actually” Izana hissed at you, mentally smiling at how you flinched at his voice. “What is it that you want?”

You bit your lip nervously, which he thought was kind of cute. You should do that more often. “I-i hand pressed some oranges for you two and I-i thought you would want them-”

“Did you remove the pulp?” He snarled at you, making you feel extremely uncomfortable. Watching you be put under the spot was so fun, you made all these cute, sweet reactions and if he wasn’t in front of his brother, he’d be hard. “I won’t drink it if that shit is in there.”

“Y-yes I did. Emma told me you didn’t like it so I scooped them out.”

‘Aww. Aren’t you such an angel?’

“Come to think of it,” Izana stated, moving to stroke his chin, as if in deep thought. Oh this was clearly going to get a rise out of you. “How are we sure you didn’t poison it?”

“E-excuse me?” The look on your face was priceless, as if he had just said something so evil that you would never do. Not like you would ever have the balls to even do something anyways.

He decided to add Shinichiro to the teasing, since his brother hadn’t stopped him from saying anything to you. “Hey, big bro, what do you think? She should taste the drink first right?”

Izana stopped in his tracks the moment he looked at his brother, his eyes nearly falling out of his sockets in disbelief. To his shock, Shinichiro had an awestruck look on his face, staring at you like a dumb teenager in love; his face red and his pupils dilated. He looked from Shinichiro, to you and then back to Shinichiro again, piecing the entire puzzle together in his head.

‘No fucking way.’

A sudden wave of anger rushed through the white haired man. Of all the people Shinichiro fell for, all the women in the world, all the whores he slept with and still, STILL he just had to pick you. It was already bad that Mikey had refused to eat or get out of bed because of you, but now Shin too?

Shinichiro Sano. The leader of the Black Dragons. Tripping over his feet for you?

It only increased when you turned your attention to Shinichiro, your own pupils dilating as you stared at him in awe. “I can taste it for you, Mr. Sano.” You said in a far sweeter voice than you ever gave him or Mikey and Shinichiro only nodded dumbly.

So not only was Shin in love with you, but you also had feelings for him as well?

Izana watched in boiling rage as you set the tray down, giving him and his brother an eye full of your cleavage, before pouring a little into a cup and taking a sip out of it, looking directly at Shin.

What now? You were into men old enough to give birth to you? This has to be some kind of stupid plot you were doing to be a madame of the house. To get all of them to fall in love with you. The sudden feeling brewing in his chest was so unfamiliar, annoyed at you giving fuck me eyes to his brother who would have remained a virgin if not for his status as the leader of the black dragons.

Granted, Izana hadn’t treated you nicely, but you barely knew what kind of things his brother is capable of. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into and yet you-

“Izana, are you okay?” You asked quietly, a worried look. He hadn’t realized his face was contorted in disgust until you started asking questions. “Did something happen-”

“Get out.” He spat at you. When you flinched, he screamed at you even louder to get you to leave. “I said GET OUT!”

“IZANA!” Shinichiro shouted at him. His brother rarely ever raised his voice, no matter what he did. “APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW-”

“It’s alright.” You cut both of them short. Izana could see how hurt you looked from him screaming at you. “I’ve got other things to do.”

“(Name), wait-”

Shinichiro calling out to you was futile as you hurried away without looking back, tears in your eyes. When you had disappeared, Shinichiro turned back to look at Izana, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Izana, what is wrong with you-”

Izana didn’t know what got into him as he stood up, aiming his fist directly into Shinichiro’s face and punching his elder brother. “You’re FUCKING CRAZY.” Izana yelled at him as he held his nose. “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HER?”

“Izana?”

He didn’t realize Takeomi, Benkei and Wakasa had all rushed out to meet the two of them until Benkei got in the middle, blocking Izana’s path. Takeomi managed to yank an angry Izana away from the place, dragging the heavily breathing man back into the garage before Izana could think of hitting his elder brother again.

“Dude- calm down.” Takeomi chastised, clearly confused as to Izana’s anger. “What happened?”

“My brother is a moron.” Izana hissed. He could understand why he would do this to him in the first place. Why you of all people. “A fucking moron when it comes to women.”

A dark look crossed Takeomi’s face before he sighed, as if expecting this reaction. “It’s (name), isn’t it?” Great, it was that bad that everyone knew. “I can’t blame him though. Have you seen the kind of things she wears in this house?”

Izana huffed at Takeomi, but he couldn’t disagree with his statement as he also hated how you were comfortable hanging your ass or tits out for men to look at. “Don’t be mad at him.” Takeomi stated, now placing his hand on Izana’s shoulder. “You know your brother has a weak spot for pretty ladies. It’s her fault, she keeps shaking that tight ass of hers when she knows this house is full of men.”

Izana felt himself relax as he listened to Takeomi’s words. He was right. It was your fault that his brother fell for you. You had to know what you were doing, purposefully seducing everyone. “Yeah…” Izana muttered in response. “She’s the problem.”

Takeomi patted his shoulder in reassurance. “Just stay strong. I know you’re at that point in life when you’re possessive over a girl.” he said, pushing himself away from him. “But you can’t compete with your elder brother. You know that.”

Yeah. He knew. Somehow, Takeomi’s words hit him hard in the chest, which confused him a lot. Was that why he was mad at you? Because you were going for his brother and not him? It didn’t make any sense to him.

Izana hated you. That was it.

But why did the thought of you with anyone else make him so angry?

Takeomi walked away from him, pulling a cig from his back pocket into his mouth and taking out his lighter, igniting it. “Don’t stress your head about it. Shin will get bored of her soon enough and you’ll get her back.

That is if you’re okay with damaged goods of course.”

It took Izana a while to process Takeomi’s words, mulling over them long after he left.

‘Damaged goods?’

  YOU sat at the garden the next day, enjoying the breeze blowing against your face.

Emma was surprisingly scarce the past few days, going out to shop or see old friends. You didn’t blame her for it, it was supposed to be her free time away from everyone. Even extroverted people like her needed a break from everything, to take a breather and recharge.

She was kind enough to invite you over. The place was beautiful enough to ogle at without having to go anywhere. You felt yourself relax, the pressure from school no longer weighing down on you. Apart from Izana’s angry outburst, everything else felt nice. The staff were far nicer to you than the first day and the subordinates were kind enough to steer out of your way.

Takeomi was quite touchy, feely with you, but luckily it ended after the first few days after Wakasa dragged his hand off your ass.

You decided to read the book you bought with you amidst the fresh breeze, ‘I Capture the Castle’. It was the first book you ever bought for yourself after leaving the house and it always brought you some form of comfort. The main character was a bit like you, dreaming and imagining beauty and extremely naïve. She had a kind of sweet charm to her and it reminded you when you were her age.

Not that you were older than her by that much, but at 20 you felt like you’ve aged five years older with everything that has happened to you.

“Can I sit here?”

That deep melodious voice- you quickly shot your head up to look at Shinichiro standing in front of you, shyly  away. Your heart raced as you nod in approval, shifting a bit for him to sit down. It was nice of him to ask for permission first and then stay silent, knowing that you were engrossed in your book, other people would just sit and try to start a conversation when you’re trying to read.

You two remained in a comfortable silence, you reading your book while he stared at you with gentle eyes. You snuck a few peaks at him and caught him staring at the cover of your book. Sometimes, he’d stare at you directly, trailing his gaze to your lips and then back to your face again, before looking at the book.

It was always like this. Subtle touches on your waist, on your arms. His gentle gaze staring at you. The way he’d press his body against yours when you ask him to help you with something. Always tiptoeing around you.

“Are you curious, Mr. Sano?” You teased, making him jump at your statement, getting visibly flustered. “About the book?”

“Well, I-i-'' he stammered, before clearing his throat to regain his composure. “-i’ve never seen this one before. I mean, Emma didn’t say it was part of your curriculum.”

“No, it isn’t” you giggled at his cluelessness. He looked so handsome when looking for excuses. “I’m reading this for fun. The main character is a lot like me, so I like it.”

His brows furrowed, revealing some frown lines on his forehead as he pondered on your words. “Really?” He asked, his curiosity piqued in the book now. “How so?”

You sighed dreamily, facing the book down as you excitedly talked about your favorite parts of the book. “She dreams a lot, romanticizing her otherwise bleary life in a big castle, despite it falling apart.” You started. “Her father is a recluse and she has a strange stepmom who paints nude. She has an elder sister, Rose -who reminds me a lot of Emma.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” You said, a smile forming on your lips at his sudden interest in your silly little book and he smiled back, shifting closer to you. “The book is written in her pov, like journal entries. She talks about her life and love. I’m actually at the part where she fell in love with an older guy-”

You stopped yourself realizing what you were about to imply. You and him look at each other, his dark eyes peering into your very soul. All you could hear was blood rushing into your ears at how close you were to him, your lips barely inches away from his.

“And how did that end for her?” He said breathless, the sweet smell of nicotine infiltrating your nostrils. “Did she end up with the older guy?”

You know there is a hidden question between the two of you. As if he’s asking you about each other, if you two also have a chance, if he had a chance with you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he moved closer to you, tilting his head sideways.

“Shinichiro, there you are.”

The two of you quickly pulled away as Wakasa stepped in, looking away from each other. The multi-colored haired man looked from you, to Shinichiro, then back to you before raising a brow.

“I interrupted the both of you?”

You felt hot underneath his scrutinizing gaze, nearly ashamed of how obvious the both of you were. Shinichiro quickly stood up and started telling Wakasa to stop teasing you. “She wasn’t doing anything wrong. We were talking about her book.”

“Sure.” Wakasa rolled his eyes at his very weak defense. “I’ll give him back later (Name), we have a lot to do.”

With that, Wakasa started heading off and Shinichiro grabbed your hand, leaving a gentle kiss on it. “Promise me you’ll tell me about your book later?” He asked you. You smiled shyly before nodding, letting your hand go gently and rushing after Wakasa.

You hid your laughter as the multi-colored haired man slapped Shinichiro across the head hard, before disappearing into the house.

   YOU could barely sleep.

The bed was soft, far softer than the hard rock of a mattress that they gave you at school. The pillows were even softer, easing your neck into a blissful rest.

Yet, you kept twisting and turning around.

For some reason you never got Shinichiro out of your mind. Every time you close your eyes, you would picture him in your mind, trying to imagine his deep, resounding voice saying your name. You would replay scenes of him greeting you and asking you about your day, his hand touching your lower back and waist briefly as he helped you get things off the shelves.

Or the apology he gave you when Izana lost his temper. His hand holding yours as he tried to explain that he would tell his brothers to be better.

It was silly. For a man that you barely knew, he seemed to occupy every inch of your mind and heart, consuming all forms of rational thought.

You knew you had an overactive imagination, but this was getting very ridiculous. As much as he was Emma’s brother whom she spoke highly of and was cordial to you, Shinichiro Sano was a criminal mastermind. Who owned the biggest gang in Japan.

And the warmest of smiles-

You knew some dangerous things happened each night in this household. Sometimes, in the middle of tossing and turning, you would stand up and walk to the window, watching unmarked vehicles drive in and out of the compound. If you were lucky, you would see Shinichiro walk out with either Wakasa or Takeomi and unfamiliar people from different walks of life. You always ended up staring longingly at the dark haired man before retreating back to your bed, your head full of stupid ideas.

Was this how love sickness felt? The heavy burden on your chest, eating you alive and corrupting your thoughts. Sometimes drifting even to worse ideas, sinful ideas of him reaching down and playing with you -

You put a pillow over your head and let out a muffled scream. It was obvious that whatever it was, you were going to skip another night of sleep if you didn’t do something else to take your mind off him. Slipping out the bed, you swung your feet to touch the ground and decided to walk around the house to clear your head.

You quietly pushed your room door open, padding down the hallways gently. Aimlessly, you roamed around the quiet areas, before deciding to make due with your added time. ‘A midnight snack seems like a good idea.’ You mused to yourself. Shinichiro permitted you to use the kitchen with no restriction and with only two days left to your stay here, might as well make good use of it.

The stairs always felt longer in the night and you imagined yourself to be in a castle, walking down the spindly flight as an attendant- you’re not a princess in your imagination, never. Emma’s the princess. You are the lowly attendant who waltzed around the castle in the middle of the night, dreaming about a king. A king who showered her with a lot of attention.

A lowly attendant in love with a king.

You made your way to the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, taking out a tub of mayonnaise and sliced bread. “I’ll just take three.” You muttered, dressing each slice with mayo. As much as it may disgust people, you always loved eating bread with mayonnaise and it was one thing you never really cared if anyone would condemn you for. Especially as it was all you could afford to buy sometimes.

Once you finished clearing the space you used, you picked up your plate and started heading for the stairs.

“Please, please, I’ll pay you back- I’ll return the money.”

Your ears picked up at the faint sound coming from the living room, as if someone was talking. Emma said that any time Izana was around, he always left the television on -either because he slept off or he went to his room and forgot to turn it off. You shrugged it off as nothing and decided to continue on your way to your room. The last thing you wanted was Izana to wake up and bother you for trying to help him turn it off like last time he exploded at you.

‘But’ a part of you against your rational thoughts nagged. ‘It wouldn’t be nice to do that. He might wake up with bad neck pain’

You tried to shrug that thought out of your head. There was no way you were ever going to help Izana. Not after everything he had put you through. You couldn’t even remember all the details of the night he attacked you, especially what happened after he tried to strangle you. And not with how hostile he was to you.

‘It’s just a T.V, just turn it off.’

You sighed, finally giving in. Spinning around on your heel, you quietly tiptoed to the living room to avoid him waking up. ‘I’m just doing a favor by turning the t.v off.’ You muttered to yourself, trying to justify breaking your promise to avoid him at all cost. ‘Nothing more, nothing less-’

Your mind went blank the moment you set your eyes on the scene before you. Izana was there alright, hands in his pockets as he stood beside Wakasa, whose fists were bloody. A man knelt on the floor, his hands clasped in front of him and face pressed down on the floor by Takeomi’s foot. Shinichiro stood there, his dark eyes empty as if almost bored by the man begging.

You should go. You should turn around and leave before anyone sees you and pretend you saw nothing, but your feet were glued to the ground as you watched the scene unfold.

“Leave him, Takeomi.” You heard Shinichiro say and the scarred man released the foot of his head. “Lift your head.” He commanded again and the man swiftly did so. Your stomach churned at the man’s bloodied face and lips, to the point even his shirt was stained with sweat and blood.

“Please! I didn’t mean to cross Izana- I didn’t know he was your brother. I-i’ll do better-”

You watched in horror as Shinichiro slowly pulled out a gun from his waistband and pointed its barrel at the man’s head, his facial expression unchanging. The man started begging even more frantically as he slowly wrapped his finger around the trigger, before pushing it back.

A loud bang echoed throughout the entire room, the bullet pierced through the man’s head and killed him instantly, his body dropping with a thud.

You didn’t realize when your hand went slack until the plate crashed onto the ground, scattering around into smithereens. Izana is the first to turn around and notice you standing there, eyes wide and chest heaving, followed by others who quickly replace their smirks with a look of concern.

“I-i-i…” What could you even say? You knew what kind of job they did, but you never thought you’d ever see it right before your eyes. Whatever fairytale imagination you had of Shinichiro was shattered with the reality of who he really was. And what did you even expect? That a gangster wouldn’t murder people? That he’d just be Emma’s older brother and nothing else?

It was as if your terrified look snapped Shinichiro out of his murderous haze, making him push the gun into Takeomi’s grasp and rush to you, cursing underneath his breath. “(Name)-”

“I didn’t see anything.” You started to lie. If you showed your solidarity and unwavering loyalty to him, he wouldn’t kill you. You didn’t realize how badly your body was trembling as he walked closer to you or how heavy your breaths are. “I didn’t see anything at all, I swear. I’ll keep it a secret-”

“Calm down, calm-”

“I don’t want to die…” tears fell out of your eyes as he walked towards you. “... I’ll keep it a secret…I’ll-”

He stood before you, blocking your view from the gorey scene. Large hands cradled your cheeks, his thumb wiping your tears away from your face. “Calm down. I won’t hurt you. I swear.” He whispered gently. “How much did you see?”

“E-everything-” you answered honestly, still tearing up. “-please don’t kill me.”

“That won’t happen. I swear on my life.” He tried to soothe you with his large palms on your face. “You’re not thinking straight and your feet are probably hurt. Let’s go to my room and we’ll forget all about this. Hm?”

If you were operating with a rational thought right now, you would have refused his offer and ran away from him. You would call him a murderer and hide in your guest room until it was time to go home. Nothing good ever came with being alone with any of the Sano brothers, you should have known that by now.

If.

You nodded your head and let him scoop your body up from the ground into his arms. “Takeomi, Wakasa, get the cleaning crew.” He demanded, still blocking your view from the corpse lying in its pool of blood. “Izana, go to your room.”

“What about-” you heard Izana start to question, but stopped immediately, his lips twisting into a frown as he looked at the both of you. “I see.”

Shinichiro slowly takes you up the stairs, the faint bloody stench fading away the further you go. You’re not fully present as he opened his room door and walked you into his main chambers, sitting you down on the bed.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” He apologized, kneeling before you and taking your hand in his. The same he held that gun in. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t say anything, still reeling in shock. You could see the dead body on the ground, bloodied and injured, a bullet hole in his head.

And the man responsible in front of you. Begging you for forgiveness. For making you see his ugly side.

He slid from your feet to your body, now standing at his full height as his face hovered above yours. “I’ll make you forget about it.” He said, his hand tilting your chin upwards and leaning closer to you. “I’ll make it disappear, I promise.”

He moves closer to you, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips and pulling away. He kissed you again and again until you relaxed in his arms putting yours around his back and reciprocated his kiss.

Your back hit the bed as the kiss grew hotter, his mouth opening to dart his tongue out into yours, playing with your own wet muscle softly. His leg found its way between your thighs, pressing onto your aching core, slightly moving up and down, stimulating you. His hands moved to the hem of his shirt, breaking your kiss to tug it over his head, tossing it aside to reveal his lean figure. Before you could fully admire him, he pressed his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply.

He was gentle, his hands on either side of your head as he kissed you again. Like he was taking his time with you, making you enjoy everything going on.

You felt yourself grow wetter and wetter with each movement of his thigh rubbing against your clit. As he moved down from your lips to your neck, he paid attention to keeping the pace of his thigh movement, making you breathe heavily. “Does it feel good, baby?” He asked between kisses, his hands taking the straps of your flimsy nightwear down, letting your breasts to pop out. “Want me to do more”

You know you should stop here. All your morals screamed at you about everything you were told about sex before marriage, with a murderer regardless and yet, for the first time, you wanted more from him. Noticing your dilemma, he added “I’m not gonna take your virginity. Not tonight. I just want to make you feel good. Is that okay?” 

Staring into his darkened eyes that gazed down on you with admiration, you flung every last bit of your morals in the dustbin.

 “yes.”

Anything that would make you see Shinichiro as Shinichiro again.

Panties gone, your legs were wide open on each side of his waist, his body pressed onto yours tightly. Your head swarmed as his large fingers moved in and out of your pussy, loud squelching noises from how wet you were from his well timed thrusts and his lips sucking your nipples, tongue flicking and toying with them.

“Shin-” you moaned airly, breathless underneath his touch.

He scissored his fingers inside you, stretching you wide for him, each curl bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It was like he was handling an egg, trying his best not to hurt you and still making you feel good.

He pulled his lips away from your nipples, still working you open as he leaned over to face you, pressing kisses on your forehead. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered in your ears, kissing behind them. “You’re such a beautiful woman. So lucky to have you like this.”

Praises on his lips never faltered as he bucked his hand into you, deep and fast, curling and uncurling his fingers at that angle that had your eyes crossing. “Shin- shin more-” you moaned, egging him on. “Please give me more.”

Like you pushed his buttons, he angled his fingers at that spongy place, making you cry out, digging your nails in his shoulders. He kept on fingering you, watching every way your face contorted with pleasure as you cried out his name. His other hand worked with his own cock, moving rapidly also with how fast his large fingers disappear into your warm walls, sucking him in.

“Yesyesyes-” you cried out, jerking your hips to follow his thrusts. “That’s it baby. Fuck yourself on my fingers pretty.” He demanded, his own breaths heavy as your plush walls sucked them in. “I love it like that. My fingers are yours. I’m all yours.”

A pit forms in your stomach, with how fast and how deep he was moving, you felt so different. Like your body was going into overdrive as he fingered you harder. It started weighing heavily on your belly, feeling like you need to pee. “Wait wait, I might pee, I feel pressed-”

Shinichiro’s eyes widened, before darkening with lust at your sudden announcement, resuming his fast thrusts. “Shit, baby, you’re gonna cum soon kay?” He reassured you. “Just relax and let go, trust me-”

You don’t argue any further as your body writhes in his grasp, legs trembling as your hips raise. It felt so wrong, like you were one bad accident away from wetting his bed. Each thrust felt like an eternity, the imminent and intense coming of an orgasm approached. Your entire body felt hot, he felt hot, jerking and bucking his cock to the rhythm.

“Oh shin, shin it’s coming, it's coming, ahh, ahh Shinshinshinshin!”

Your hips lifted up as you sprayed your cum all over his abdomen, a loud moan escaping your lips, drenching him all over until there was nothing left. The sight instantly brought him to a climax, his hands moving wildly as he ejaculated ropes of cum onto your stomach, grunting as he spilled his essence onto you until he was finished, his head falling forwards to touch your foreheads together.

You’re barely there mentally when he scooped you up into his bathroom and ran the bath for the both of you, washing himself and you clean. “You did so well.” He whispered in your ears, admiring you. “Any man would be a fool not to like you.”

You only nodded, still blank from everything. It was like your mind trying to protect you from what you had seen, trying to make you forget that the same man wiping you clean and slipping on a brand new nightwear onto you was a killer.

He had the same look in his eyes that Mikey did anytime he assaulted you. Blank. Devoid of any emotion. Pure evil.

It ran in the family.

He laid you down on the now changed sheet - his staff worked fast- and laid beside you, drawing your body into his as you faced away from him “Sleep.” He muttered quietly, stifling a yawn. Eventually you closed your eyes, the images of the dead man long gone and replaced with a blissful Shin romancing you.

And on the other side, Shinichiro’s eyes were wide open, unable to sleep but watching you until he was sure you were relaxed.

There was no sleep for the wicked after all.

 “CAN we talk? Please?”

You didn’t say anything as you folded your clothes back into your box, packing to leave. It wasn’t like you were ignoring Shinichiro intentionally after last night either, you just didn’t feel like trying to process anything and everything that had happened between the two of you after that.

The fantasy was dead and gone. Shinichiro was who he is at the end of the day, both good and bad. It hurt because you loved him a lot and you wished that he didn’t have to stain his hands for money. You wished his parents were alive, instead of dumping everything on him, making him take up the yoke of survival for both him and his siblings.

It’s not like you could blame him for anything. Emma told you what they do, it wasn’t like they lied to you or anything. You were the one who deceived yourself.

He joined you in folding your clothes, his squares far neater than yours. “I’m sorry you saw me do that.” He said calmly. You know he’s not sorry for killing, but he’s sorry that you saw him do it. “I’m sorry you saw that side of me. If it was in my power, you would never see that side of me.”

You kept quiet, trying to wrap your head around the raging storm inside your head. Even despite everything, you can’t picture him as a murderer. You can’t picture him as a heartless killer. You can’t picture him as a gangster.

Instead, all you see when you look at him is that same guy who blushed when you caught him staring. The guy who stuttered on his words, who kissed your hand every time he met you.

The clothes get folded completely with an added hand, and you zipped it shut. You finally faced him, about to open your mouth to say anything, but he only took your hand and kissed the back one last time.

Your mind flashed back to the book you read. In the end, the older man fell in love with her older sister and the girl was left alone. The fantasy was over and reality was far more disappointing. 

It didn’t stop you from bursting into tears and clutching onto his shirt as he hugged you tight.

Bonus:

  IZANA couldn’t blame Shinichiro.

He always knew his brother had a weakness for women since childhood. Manjiro too had a soft spot as well, but it wasn’t as bad as their eldest. No matter what Shinichiro did, at the end of the day, Izana always looked up to his brother and he would always admire him.

Besides, the real problem was YOU.

“You paid her fees for the rest of the semesters in full and sent her a huge amount of money.” It wasn’t a question. Both Izana and Shinichiro knew that it was a statement. Izana felt like he was losing his entire family to your charms; first Emma, then Mikey and now, his big brother. 

It was as if the world had gone mad but anyone hearing that a man paid your school fees that would last you throughout college and sent you five fucking million dollars after spending just a week with you would think you were a witch.

And to Izana, he was sure you were one. You’ve bewitched everyone. It was ridiculous.

“I did it to keep her silent about what she saw.”

Izana rolled his eyes, laughing mirthlessly. “Shin. you would have killed her on the spot if you truly wanted her to be silent.” He said. And it was the truth, because he lowered his head into his hands at the fact. “You did it because you’re head over heels for her.”

Izana turned to the rest of Shin’s friends, glaring at them. “And you all watched him do it.” He pointed accusingly at their guilty faces.

“We tried to stop him at two million but he was distraught-”

“Wakasa, forget about it.” Shinichiro cut him off, before facing Izana. “I like her. You’re right about that. Emma did ask me to help her out and I would have, but then I fell for her the second I laid my eyes on her. It’s not her fault.”

Izana felt his chest heave with fury as he stared at his brother. “Yes it is.” He spat. “I know you. You would never have done this for any other girl but her!”

“I know.” Shinichiro concurred. “And it isn’t her fault. It’s mine. She never even asked for it-”

“Of course she didn’t. She just batted her teary eyes at you and spread her legs for you.” Izana hissed. “You think women would just ASK for money?”

“IZANA!”

Everyone flinched at how harsh Shinichiro’s voice sounded. Izana stared at his brother, eyes blazing as his elder brother spoke angrily. “Look. I know about you and Mikey’s hatred for (name). Emma told me all about the kind of horrors you two did.” He growled. “I’ve decided to ignore it because she said you both apologized.”

Izana kept silent as his brother gave him a stern warning. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Izana and I’m betting Mikey is in whatever sick game you both think you can get away with. Don’t do anything that would bring the cops to my front door. Am I clear?”

It was a double sided threat. Izana knew underneath it, Shinichiro was telling him not to hurt you.

“Crystal.”

Unfortunately, Izana just did not care.

special thanks to: @honeybleed @manjibunny @reiners-milkbiddies @izanaki707 @rukiaslvr @ilovetwodmen @bbykoo-7 @tenjikusstuff4 @cockonoi @koffeenoe2 @kodzukein @lostsomewhereinthegarden @cashout-princess @aliyxh-o @kay-bear200 @iluv-ace @vixensbrainrotts @missgab @urmomsksk @sweeytheart @charcoal-xl @uradveragewhore @wcayaw @blueberry-hedonist @haikyuusboringassmanager @diana-005 @perilous-pasta @kokoscutie @kannaaa015 @abadonkori @kokoch4n3l @aliss0n-love-blog @eattmeowt

monica's notes: whew, so this was supposed to be like 5k words and put up on friday, but then network went out. then i was feeling kinda down and decided to edit it a little and by the time i realized how far i had gone it was 2am sunday morning and 12k words 😭 hell i almost forgot i was writing dark content and thought i was writing a shoujo manga at some point until i got to the part where she wandered off into the kitchen 😭 thank you all for being paitent with me and for those who i asked for advice ❤ i love yall mwah. Chapter 5 is this friday.

Oh don't forget to comment and reblog and send asks. I'm always happy to answer

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader smut #tokyo revengers x reader angst #mikey x reader #manjiro sano x reader smut #manjiro sano x reader #izana x reader #izana kurokawa x reader smut #izana smut #mikey smut #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x reader smut #fem reader

[aspaceinthecosmos]

Are you a Neptune enjoyer? well I've got some news that will ruin your day! (:

(yes, this news is a couple weeks old now, I had this sitting in my drafts and forgot about it)

We all know Neptune. the beautiful dark blue, windy planet, the farthest planet in our solar system, discovered by math, etc. etc.

[ID in alt]

right?

WRONG.

turns out, when voyager 2 imaged Neptune, the photos were processed in false color to better show the clouds in its atmosphere. While astronomers at the time all knew about this color change, throughout the 34 years since then, the sentiment got lost. Neptune was depicted as dark blue in everything from children's books to university books, and everyone took it as fact that Neptune was, in fact, that shade of blue. But it isn't.

In true color, Neptune is a much, much lighter blue, coming in at only a few shades darker than Uranus (cursed, i know).

Above is the false color image compared to the true color image, while below is true color Neptune compared to true color Uranus [IDs in alt]

anyways I hoped you enjoyed this session of cursed space news with jupiter! smash that like button and subscribe for more *awkward thumbs up*

#that was the most AWKWARD conclusion i have ever written for a post but i love it. and also i had no other idea how to end it... #just jupiter #aspaceinthecosmos #space #astronomy #outer space #nasa #voyager 2 #voyager #neptune #uranus #planets #solar system

[donelywell]

September 12 2023

Some Mobian Biology headcanons, and I doodled Tails when the Sonic Frontiers: Final Horizon Trailer dropped.

Hedgehogs when they are young, have pastel light quills that get darker as they age. Shadow too since he was originally born with pure white blobby quills that gradually turned into the black that we know today.

A Mobians eyes are a good indicator of how young they are. If they are younger than 13, they have dark eyes with only a hint of the true color underneath it. That's why it's a huge celebration when a Mobian turns 13, watching their eyes unveil it's true colors is a huge moment for a Mobian.

A Mobian can be born with or without powers, no one will really know until they are 5 years old, that's when the Chaos Energy inside of them has developed enough to turn into an ability. Most Mobians don't have Chaos Abilities, but it's not completely rare for someone to develop them at 5. The Chaos Ability is normally something that lets you bend Chaos Energy to your will, in the form of things like Pyrokinesis or Aquakinesis. A Chaos ability that lets you boost your physical body is extremely rare and unique, such as super speed or stretching your tail to a comedic length.

#sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #miles tails prower #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the ultimate lifeform #Mobian Biology headcanons #The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog reference!

[applepeye]

「 ★ 」 THEM TITTIES

I for the love of God cannot explain my obsession with male pectoral muscles and this will be your problem now too

—cw: mass, boobs, nipple and piercings and how well they are with a bit of pulling, titties.

GOJO SATORU

gojo's tits are big , like you can place your hands on them and you still wouldn't fully cover them . Their also a bit heavy thanks to some muscle training on his side. His nipples are cute and perky , they also have a nice light pink color that darkens a bit . He doesn't have piercings bc he's still a teacher but if he did they'd probably be those big ones that look like hoops. He loves when you pull and suck and them , he also likes when they rub on cold surfaces when you fuck him from behind.

Bonus : after a particularly rough night with his chest he'll wear band aids on them to prevent rubbing against his uniform.

GETO SUGURU

geto's are a bit bigger then gojo's, they look almost the same in size but geto's are bigger . His nipples are a bit farther away from each other not much but still noticeable. His nipples are also a darker color and a bit more... how do I explain? Their like inverted, but not really just a bit puffy to the point it almost hides the bud . He has piercings but those really small one's . And like gojo also wears band aids from time to time . He doesn't really like when you pull but loves when you suck on them , particularly when you use your tongue to play with the piercing.

Bonus : kinda wishes he could lactate.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

he was inverted nipples arruge with the wall ,likeee and their so puffy too cuz unlike geto they fully cover the bud . His nipples are also dark but are a a bit lighter in the middle . He could wear a double- D bro tbh , and isn't really shy in flexing his tits. He would put a piercing but he thinks the hassle of removing them for missions is to much, sometimes has you massage them for fun . He likes when you pull , use them for a boob-job or just play with them He couldn't care less .

Bonus : he can lactate, a lot , has you suck the milk out when it begins to hinder him.

SUKUNA ( true form )

Their huge , bigger then toji I would dare to say . He loves when you look at them when he talks to you . His nipples are a dark pink color but still light enough to stand out against his tan skin . His nipples aren't inverted (boo) they're actually very perky and very sensitive ( probably why he wears his kimonos so lose ) his piercings would also be those hoop one's but they'd be a bit heavier than the normal. I don't think he'd appreciate you pulling on them and you sucking on them is really an once in a blue moon event.

Bonus : when he does let you suck on them he'll almost always have you bite on them.

#jujutsu kaisen #dom reader #sub jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #fushiguro toji #ryomen sukuna #「 ★ 」 genderneutral reader #「 ★ 」 female reader #「 ★ 」 male reader #「 ☆ 」 applepeye

[hugsandchaos]

Random bit, but does anyone else wonder if ghosts from the ghost zone react to humans similarly to how humans react to ghosts? Like sometimes I just want to write Danny in human form around Frostbite in a manner that’s kind of from Frostbite’s prospective, and describe Danny’s human form in a way that connects to the living world or at least partially does. Let me just show you what I mean.

It was odd for Frostbite, seeing the Great One’s human form for the first time. True, he literally asked for it during the checkup, and he’s met Sam and Tucker before, but something about this was different. Perhaps it was the simple fact that Frostbite had only seen him in ghost form until that point, maybe it had something to do with him being a halfa. Who was to say when there was so, so little information on Halfas?

Hair the color of freshly fallen snow, much like the fur of Frostbite and his people, now turned as dark as a shadow. Perhaps even darker, just like Sam’s. Unlike Sam, however, Danny’s eyes had a different color. A shade of green that both practically and often literally glowed just like the ectoplasm all ghosts were made of had been replaced by a light blue. Looking at them reminded the chief of ice, and he was sure that any glare from them would feel like ice piercing a ghost’s very core. His skin was a little darker now, but Danny still appeared a little paler than Sam.

Looking at Danny now was like looking at a glimpse of a world where everything was different. Frostbite knew that the two realms were obviously different, but it felt more... perhaps “dangerous” was a good word, or “mysterious”. The thumping of his heart was picked up on more easily by the machines used to read his core vibrations, and the thermometer rose gradually until it reached 94 degrees. That temperature was extremely dangerous for a ghost with an ice core, as the average temperature for one was between 10 to 0 degrees. And yet Danny Phantom’s recorded body temperatures were always between 32 and 40, which was by itself alarming enough. Now it was all the way at 94?!

“Young Phantom, are you alright?! The thermometer says that your body temperature is 94 degrees!” Frostbite exclaimed.

Danny nodded and smile a little, his new ghost teeth, which Sam and Tucker called fangs despite them being rather small, were visible for a short while.”That’s actually close to the average healthy temperature for a human, which is 97 to 99 degrees, but I guess being half ghost lowered it a bit? It’s when the body temperature reaches 100 or higher that we should worry.” He said.

“...I need to update your record.” Frostbite said after a moment’s silence. Once the checkup was over, perhaps he could ask the Great One to bring some medical books on humans to better understand the living, and dead, paradox that was Halfas.

“My what now?” Danny asked.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp #dp frostbite #danny phantom frostbite #Danny phantom prompt

[elodieunderglass]

Mad Spring - sour gummies, you feral little goblin. Tangfastics. Airheads. Sour Patch Kids. Like High Summer, you choose fruit-flavored gummy sweets, but you pick ones coated in Pain Sugar. It isn’t enough to just get sugar: you’re chasing a different Sensory Experience (TM) than the rest. And that’s great.

Warm Spring - white chocolate, ruby chocolate, pastel mint drops, cotton candy, bubblegum. Marshmallows. Sweet, creamy, usually pastel. You have no particular objection to floral tastes like lavender and rose. You may be able to appreciate Turkish Delight.

Midsummer - tropical fruits: chewy and slightly creamy in pastel colors. Starburst/Opal Fruit, Creamsicles/Solero. Maoam strips. Cream sodas. Skittles, despite being jewel-toned, are in this season. Coconut and pineapple flavors go here. Also the home of chalky-type sweets like Love Hearts/candy hearts, smarties (usa) and You may be also able to appreciate Turkish Delight.

High Summer - Gummy bears and chewy, jellyish, jammy, gummy, springy in bright jewel tones. Gummy worms and jelly snakes, jelly babies, jelly beans, Haribo. Clearer and gummier than Midsummer.

Autumn Night - darker and more complex sweetness, often including an element of burning or alcohol, or another challenge. Cherry cordials, marzipan, champagne truffles. Also home of burnt-sugar tastes: maple candy, bonfire toffee, candy corn. Also home of matcha; red liquorice; red bean paste. When people bring you sweets from other countries, they’ll choose unusual local delicacies. You almost certainly were fascinated as a kid by lollipops at the science museum sold with real bugs in them.

Autumn Salt - peanut butter and peanut brittle, salted caramel, toffee, butterscotch. Toffee popcorn, Reese’s Peanut Butter cups, Snickers, Daim. If nobody has any nuts, you’ll choose chocolate with nuts, crisp or crunch over other things. Sweet just isn’t enough.

Winter Spice - herbal, spicy and medicinal sweets, usually hard old-fashioned sweets. Red-hots, burning cinnamon, chilli - eucalyptus, root beer, menthol; sarsaparilla. Hard candy, generally: old fashioned ‘boiled sweets,’ things that look gorgeous in glass jars. Parma violets. Fisherman’s Friends. You’re the only person who would eat a gingerbread house after decorating it. You’re also possibly a ghost, or used to be a Mad Spring. It’s also about the SENSATION.

Midwinter - dark black Licorice. Salty? Sweet? saltlakrids? Allsorts? Australian? You might like other things too, but when your loved ones are in another country, they go to the licorice aisle and get you the weirdest local variant they can find.

Long Winter - true chocolate, basic chocolate stuff: M&Ms. Dairy Milk. Hershey’s Kiss. But also home of fudgy tastes and sugar-on-sugar in a long slow sauce. Marshmallow, Handmade fudge, Phish Food ice cream.

Cool Winter - naturally, the homebase of minty tastes. peppermint wheels, York’s Peppermint Patties, After Eights. Also orange - chocolate orange - and, oddly, pixie sticks/sherbet and other sweet things that involve eating simple flavored sugar.

[fragileheartbeats]

⌗ 𝘛𝘎𝘊 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ( ♱ )

He would be possessive and controlling, driven by his fear of losing his darling. He would show his love and affection through lavish gifts, constant attention, and grand gestures of devotion, all while subtly manipulating his darling's actions and decisions to ensure they remain by his side. His intensity would escalate gradually, starting with subtle hints of possessiveness and control before turning into more overt displays of jealousy and manipulation. He would be skilled at reading and understanding his darling's emotions, using this knowledge to both comfort and control them. He would treat his darling with a mix of adoration and manipulation, alternating between moments of intense affection and cold detachment depending on his mood and his perceived threat to their relationship. If his darling were abducted, he would likely use a combination of emotional manipulation and psychological torture to break their will and ensure their compliance. He may mock them or belittle their attempts to resist, but he would ultimately be driven by his desire to possess and control them rather than inflicting physical harm. He would struggle with feelings of vulnerability when it comes to his darling, fearing rejection or betrayal more than anything else. If his darling were to fight back, he would be devastated and likely become even more possessive and controlling in an attempt to regain their affection. His darling's worst experience would likely involve a combination of emotional manipulation, psychological torture, and physical confinement, designed to break their spirit and ensure their compliance. He would be intensely jealous and possessive, lashing out at anyone who he perceives as a threat to his relationship with his darling. He may cope by isolating his darling from others or by attempting to control every aspect of their life. Around his darling, his true colors would be drastically different from how he acts around others. He would be charming and attentive, but also possessive and controlling, hiding his darker tendencies behind a facade of love and devotion. If his darling were to disobey him, he would likely punish them through emotional manipulation, psychological torture, or physical confinement. He would gradually strip away their rights and freedoms, exerting more and more control over every aspect of their life. He would struggle to move on if his darling were to leave or escape, feeling a deep sense of loss and betrayal. He may never truly feel guilty about abducting his darling, believing that their love justifies his actions. He may eventually let his darling go if he realizes that his possessiveness is ultimately driving them away, but he would likely struggle with feelings of resentment and longing for a long time afterward. Seeing his darling scream, cry, or isolate themselves would both disturb and intrigue him, fueling his desire to possess and control them even more. He would worship his darling to an unhealthy degree, willing to go to any length to win them over and keep them by his side. He would pine after them endlessly, becoming increasingly desperate and unstable as time goes on. Ultimately, he may be willing to break his darling emotionally if he feels they are slipping away from him, using manipulation and psychological torture to ensure their continued compliance and devotion.

The cold air whispered through the cracks in the window frame, sending shivers down her spine as she sat huddled in the dimly lit room. Her eyes flickered nervously around the unfamiliar surroundings, her heart pounding with fear and confusion. How had she ended up here, trapped in this eerie silence?

Tom stood in the doorway, watching her with fascination. His dark eyes gleamed with intensity as he approached, his footsteps echoing off the barren walls.

"Are you comfortable, darling?" he asked, his voice dripping with false concern.

She recoiled instinctively, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Where am I? What do you want from me?"

Tom's lips curled into a sinister smile as he moved closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush against her cheek. "You're with me now, where you belong. And what I want is simple – you."

Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of his words, the realization sinking in that she was indeed trapped in his grasp.

As the days passed, Tom's demeanor shifted between moments of kindness and flashes of cruelty. He would bring her meals, whispering sweet promises of love and devotion, only to turn cold and distant at the slightest sign of defiance.

She struggled to maintain her composure, clinging to the hope of escape even as the days blurred together in a haze of fear and uncertainty.

One evening, as the moon cast a soft glow through the window, Tom approached her with a determined glint in his eyes. "I can see it in your eyes, darling. You're still fighting against me, against us. But I won't let you go. You're mine, now and forever."

Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Tom. Let me go. I don't belong here."

His grip tightened on her arm, his voice laced with desperation. "You're wrong, darling. You belong with me. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you see that."

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ #tom glynn carney #tom glynn carney x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #dark aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #yandere aegon x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #lovesick #obsession #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #tgc x reader #dark hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #aegon the second #aegon ii #dark aegon #dark aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #king aegon #modern aegon #hotd

[heartcereql]

tommy shelby x finn's teacher!reader pt.2 || read pt.1 here

the sun was supposed to be setting at this time of the day. but, as you outstared at the skyline, you saw nothing but a silvery sky only getting darker.

usually, after a long day at school, exhausted by your students' behaviour, you went to an abandoned dock on the canal to watch the day fade into the night, hoping to relieve the tension of the day and to diminish the headache in your temple.

but it didn't seem like you were very lucky today, as the landscape was an ash-colored blur, clouds heavy. you turned your head to both sides, chasing sunlight, stars, anything. and that's when you saw a figure approaching.

dark coat, cigarette's smoke surrounding the shilouette, flat cap, confident stride. he was unmistakeable.

"mr shelby" you greeted. he shot you a glare and you remembered. "right- tommy."

he acknowledged you with a nod of his head, a cigarette dangling from his lips, icy blue eyes staring ahead at the horizon as he arrived by your side. you directed your eyes at the sun setting, too.

"i have seen the results of you staying true to your word and giving my suggestion a try", you hummed. "thank you"

you turned your body to face him, watching him exhale a cloud of smoke.

"turns out you were right, eh" he shrugged, taking a drag of smoke and exhaling it.

you gave him a small grin.

"but you still have to fulfill your part of the deal"

you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words, as you remembered what you had promised him. you had agreed to go for a drink with him.

"well, i am waiting for a proper invitation" you remarked, your tone playful.

"as the lady wishes. miss y/n, will you join me in this-" he paused, looking at the sky for a second. it was painted with dark clouds, auguring storm. "- in this bleak and unsurprisingly grey afternoon for a drink at the garrison?"

you smiled at his words, having to bite your lip, preventing yourself to smile any wider.

"it'll be my pleasure" you replied, watching him drop the cigarette to the ground and stomp on it. "care to lead the way, mr shelby?"

he was about to correct you when he noticed the mocking tone in your voice and the grin on your lips. he started walking, -

"what will it be?" tommy inquired.

the two of you had taken a seat besides the bar almost immediatly. the people had appeared to go silent for the slightest second, observing you, but then had quickly returned to their affairs.

your eyes explored the pub, resting delightfully on the golden details, scanning every detail. quite nice for the reputation that preceded it.

"whatever you're having" you answered, finally directing your gaze to him.

he raised his brows, not quite impressed but amused.

"it's strong"

"oh i'll be able to handle it"

he just gave you a smug smirk before ordering the barmaid another drink for you.

"so what is it?" you wondered as you stared curiously at the amberine drink.

"whisky. scotch." he sipped his drink as if it was water.

you copied his action, putting on your best efforts to suppress a face as you swallowed the stinging alcohol.

very soon, you were caught in the joyous mood of the garrison, establishing light conversation with tommy, mostly exchanging courtesy questions, drinking and sharing some laughs.

"i understand you own this pub" you brought up, voice louder than usual so tommy was able to hear you above all the noisy chattering and giddiness from the garrison.

"my brother. arthur."

"well it's a beautiful place. he must be proud." you complimented, downing the rest of your drink, trying not to grimace as it burnt down your throat. it sure was strong.

"aye, that he is" tommy took a swig of his drink as well. "how's it going with the kids?"

you frowned in confusion for an instant before realising he meant your students.

"they're alright. they get introuble, make fuss about everything, but then again, they're children. they're actually sweet when they want to."

"and how's finn doing?" his eyes locked on yours, unable to escape the others'.

"he's a bright kid, he really is. but he loses focus more often than not. he gets carried away. and then it's even more difficult to help him back on track. but i think he can do it." you informed, sending a sympathetic smile his way.

he only hummed, his reaction to your comment unreadable.

you decided not to ask how his own business was, knowing better than to pry on affairs that didn't concern you. instead you asked something else, something that would make him warm inside.

"finn mentioned you have horses. you race 'em, right? how're they?"

tommy's gaze immediately softened. though only the corners of his lips seemed to curl into a smile, he was beaming inside. you actually asked about his horses. not many people did. it was something he appreciated.

"alright, yeah. we got a new addition a couple of weeks back." he answered as he grabbed the bottle and refilled the glasses for the third time. "she's being trained now. great promise, that one. she's got a resistance quite difficult to find, an endurance rather auspicious. lot of potential."

he handed you the drink. you thanked him, head a bit fuzzy. but there was something about the way he spoke about horses. passion. you would've never guessed, not before getting to know the man, he could speak so fondly, so committed. you sipped the whisky, listening to tommy attentively.

the pub was cleared out by the time you two decided to leave. your head was spinning, groggy from the alcohol. you could barely contain your smile anymore.

but as you stepped outside, birmingham's weather hit you like a splash of cold water. literally.

“it’s raining!” you laughed. “fucking storming”

“here”

tommy unfolded a black umbrella, holding it your way. you scooted closer, under the protection of the umbrella. for a moment, neither tommy nor you moved, both standing under the ubrella. droplets of water splashed lightly as they fiercely hit the ground and already formed puddles.

"care to lead the way, miss y/l/n?" he repeated your words from earlier.

"where to?"

"your residence, of course", he replied. seeing you were still as confused, he clarified "you're not going home alone, in the rain and certainly not tipsy as you are"

you were taken aback from his stern but concerned demeanour. and how come he was not affected in the slightest from the drinking? were you really such a lightweight?

"okay then" you smiled up at him as you started walking your way through the dark streets of small heath, praying the man wouldn't notice the way your skin heat up when your arms brushed.

after what seemed like an eternity, you reached the disheveled door, once white, that led to your house. stepping into the porch, you now stood in front of him.

"thank you, thomas. for the walk, for the drink, for the talk, for talking to finn. and" you smiled, mostly to yourself, before continuing, "i had a really good time."

he silently nodded, also smirking.

"stay safe, y/n"

"you too"

you watched as he turned and walked off into the night, under his umbrella, with the stride you were getting so used to.

"wednesday evening" he called out as he walked away.

"what?" you exclaimed in disbelief. was he asking to meet again? not that you were complaining, or that it wasn't thrilling and making your stomach churn with eagerness; but you knew it was risky.

"be there"

he disappeared around a corner, and you shut the door quietly, resting against it, smiling like a schoolgirl.

© heartcereql, 2023 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #heartcereql

[tangibletechnomancy]

The (Personal) Is (Political)

~7 hours, Dall-E 3 via Bing Image Creator, generated under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

Or, Dear Microsoft and OpenAI: Your Filters Can't Stop Me From Saying Things: An interactive exercise in why all art is political and game of Spot The Symbols

A rare piece I consider Fully Finished simply as a jpeg, though I may do something physical with it regardless. "Director commentary" below, but I strongly encourage you to go over this and analyze it yourself before clicking through, then see how much your reading aligns with my intent.

Elements I told the model to add and a brief (...or at least inexhaustive) overview of why:

Anime style and character figures - Frequently associated with commercial "low" art and consumer culture, in East Asia and the English-speaking world alike, albeit in different ways - justly or otherwise. There is frequently an element of racism to the denigration of anime styles in the west; nearly any American artist who has taken formal illustration classes can tell you a story of being told that anime style will only hinder them, that no one will hire them if they see anime, or even being graded more harshly and scrutinized for potential anime-esque elements if they like anime or imply that they may like anime - including just by being Asian and young. On the other hand, it is true that there is a commercial strategy of "slap an anime girl on it and it will sell". The passion fans feel for these characters is genuine - and it is very, very exploitable. In fact, this commercialization puts anime styles in particular in a very contentious position when it comes to AI discussions!

Dark-skinned boy with platinum and pink [and blue] hair - Racism and colorism! They're a thing, no matter how much the worst people in the world want you to think they're long over and "critical race theory" is the work of evil anti-American terrorists! I chose his appearance because I knew that unless I was incredibly lucky, I would have to fight with this model for multiple hours to get satisfactory results on this point in particular - and indeed I did. It was an interesting experience - what didn't surprise me was how much work it took me to get a skin color darker than medium-dark tan; what did surprise me was that the hair color was very difficult to get right. In anime art, for dark skin to be matched with light hair and eyes is common enough to be...pretty problematic. Bing Image Creator/Dall-E, on the other hand, swings completely in the opposite direction and struggles with the concept of giving dark-skinned characters any hair color OTHER than black, demanding pretty specific phrasing to get it right even 70% of the time. (I might cynically call this yet another illustration against the pervasive copy-paste myth...) There is also much to say about the hair texture and facial features - while I was pleased to see that more results than I expected gave me textured hair and/or box braids without me asking for it, those were still very much in the minority, and I never saw any deviation from the typical anime facial structures meant to illustrate Asian and white characters. Not even once!

Pink and blue color palette - Our subject is transgender. Bias self-check time: did you make that association as quickly as you would with a light-skinned character, or even Sylveon?

Long hair, cute clothes, lots of accessories - Styling while transmasc is a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situation, doubly so if you're not white. In many locations, the medical establishment and mainstream attitude demands total conformity to the dominant culture's standard conventional masculinity, or else "revoking your man card" isn't just a joke meant to uphold the idea that men are "better" than women, but a very real threat. In many queer communities, especially online, transmascs are expected to always be cute femboys who love pink (while transfems are frequently degraded and seen as threats for being butch), and being Just Some Guy is viewed as inherently a sign of assimilationism at best and abusiveness at worst. It is an eternal tug-of-war where "cuteness" and ornamentation are both demanded and banned at the same time. Black and brown people are often hypermasculinized and denied the opportunity to even be "cute" in the first place, regardless of gender. Long hair and how gender is read into it is extremely culture-dependent; no matter what it means to you, if anything, the dominant culture wherever you are will read it as it likes.

Trophies and medals - For one, the trans sports Disk Horse has set feminism back by nearly 50 years; I'm barely a Real History-Remembering Adult and yet I clearly remember a time when the feminist claim about gender in sports was predominantly "hey, it's pretty fucked up that sports are segregated by sex rather than weight class or similar measures, especially when women's sports are usually paid much less and given weirdly oversexualized uniforms," but then a few loud living embodiments of turds in the punch bowl realized that might mean treating trans people fairly and now it's super common for self-proclaimed feminists - mostly white ones - to claim that the strongest woman will still never measure up to the weakest man and this is totally a feminist statement because they totally want to PROTECT women (with invasive medical screenings on girls as young as 12 to prove they're Really Women if they perform too well, of course). For two, Black and brown people are stereotyped as being innately more sporty, physically strong, and, again, Masculine(TM) than others, which frequently intersects with item 1...and if you think it only affects trans women, I am sorry my friend but it is so much worse and more extensive than you think.

Hearts - They mean many things. Love. Happiness. Cuteness. Social media engagement?

TikTok - A platform widely known and hated around these parts for its arcane and deeply regressive algorithm; I felt it deserved to be name/layout/logodropped for reasons that, if they're not clear already, should become so in the final paragraph.

Computers, cameras and cell phones - My initial specification was that one of the phones should be on Instagram and another on TikTok, which the model instead chose to interpret as putting a TikTok sticker on the laptop, but sure, okay. They're ubiquitous in the modern day, for better and for worse. For all the debate over whether phones and social media are Good For Us or Bad For Us, the fact of the matter is, they seem to be a net positive-to-neutral, whose impacts depend on the person - but they do still have major drawbacks. The internet is a platform for conspiracy theories and pseudoscience and dangerous hoaxes to spread farther than ever before. Social media culture leaves many people feeling like we're always being watched and every waking moment of our lives must be Perfect - and in some senses, we are always being watched these days. Digital privacy is eroding by the day, already being used to enforce all the most unjust laws on the books, which leads to-

Pigs - I wrote the prompt with the intention that it would just be a sticker on the laptop, but instead it chose to put them everywhere, and given that I wanted to make a somewhat stealthy statement about surveillance, especially of the marginalized...thanks for that, Dall-E! ;)

Alligators - A counter to the pigs; a short-lived antifascist symbol after...this.

Details I did not intend but love anyway:

The blue in the hair - I only prompted for platinum and pink in the hair, but the overall color palette description "bled" over here anyway, completing the trans flag, making it even more blatant, and thus even more effective as a bias self-check.

The Macbook - I only specified a laptop. Hilariously ironic, to me, that a service provided through Bing interpreted "laptop" as "Macbook" nearly every time. In my recent history, 22 out of 24 attempts show, specifically, a Macbook. Microsoft v. OpenAI divorce arc when? ;) But also, let us not forget Apple's role in the ever-worsening sanitization of the internet. A Macbook with a TikTok sticker (or, well, a Tiikok sticker - recognizable enough) - I can think of little more emblematic of one of the main things I was complaining about, and it was a happy accident. Or perhaps an unhappy one, considering what it may imply about Apple's grip on culture and communications.

Which brings me to my process:

Generated over ~7 hours with Dall-E 3 through Bing Image Creator - The most powerful free tool out there for txt2img these days, as well as a nightmare of filters and what may be the most disgustingly, cloyingly impersonal toxic positivity I've ever witnessed from a tool. It wants to be Art(TM), yet it wants to ban Politics(TM); two things which are very much incompatible - and so, I wanted to make A Controversial Statement using only the most unflaggable, innocuous elements imaginable, no matter how long it took.

All art is political. All life is political. All our "defaults" are cultural, and therefore political. Anything whatsoever can be a symbol.

If you want all art to be a substance-free "look at the pretty picture :)" - it doesn't matter how much you filter, buddy, you've got a big storm coming.

#ai art #generated art #dall-e 3 #bing image creator

[thefallennightmare]

Mercy-one

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Fallen Angel!OC

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, smut, mythological talk, violence.

Summary: "Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her.

Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.

Authors Notes: Here we go! Now this is an AU but I will keep things true to life with Bad Omens and Noah as possible! Also, this is NOT a reader insert fic. I decided to create a character for this.

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch

LETHIA

The wind whipped widely through my hair, smacking me in the face, as my limbs thrashed around with such force I cringed in pain. I could see the clouds out of the corner of my eyes as I fell through them, with no sense of comfort protecting me. I choked on a sob when I noticed parts of my long, golden, hair was being singed from the rate of the fall. I held my hands in front of my face to watch in horror as the once short nails grew in length and darkness. 

“Wh-what?” 

How did it get like this? All because I chose to follow someone else instead of the almighty King? How was that fair? I’d been loyal since creation, one of his most loyal servants, but the second I thought of something different than the divine plan, He cast me away. 

“Leth, follow me to the ends of the darkness. For we can create our own Kingdom and rule.” 

My eyes screwed shut at the familiar voice as my throat burned with the thought of him. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was close by, surely he had to be. I was thrown from the Kingdom first, Lucifer not far behind. 

The air around me began to thicken, grasping around my throat with such force, that I clawed there with my newly fresh nails. Blood dripped from the wounds but none of that mattered to me; I simply stared up towards the sky where my former home disappeared through the clouds. I could try and climb my way back, as far as my wings would allow. But I knew, like Icarus, if I climbed too high to the sun, I’d fall into the unknown jungle below. 

Icarus was a fool. 

My ears rang loudly from the sudden change in altitude and I looked towards the left, almost crying out when I took in the most recent alter to my appearance. Bright wings that mirrored the colors of the clouds surrounding me were no longer pure. No, they were dark with the tellings of my betrayal. 

“My King, forgive me!” I cried out seconds before my body fell to the hard soil below; darkness overtaking my vision.

NOAH

Slamming the car door shut with a long sigh,  I walked from the street, up to my house. I took in the variety of cars, realizing that one of the guys must have invited a few people over tonight. Usually, I never minded when we had small get-togethers, but tonight I did mind. It wasn’t anything anyone in particular did, my mind was just filled with the same dream I’d had the last seven nights in a row. 

Black feathers. Even darker hair. Cream-colored skin. And vibrant red eyes. 

At first, I chalked it up to being a random dream but as the nights progressed, the dream continued with the same figure. 

One night they were sitting on the edge of my bed. The following night, they were perched on top of the roof of my house, watching the street below. Last night, the figure was in bed with me as my lips trailed over the curvaceous lumps of her breasts. 

I ran a hand over my face as I neared the front door, taking a deep and steady breath. I thought about asking my therapist about these dreams but now that they were getting more intimate, I decided against it.

“It's just a dream, Noah,” I told myself while my hand reached for the door. 

A groan halted my movements and I turned swiftly on my heels back towards the driveway. But all I heard was silence; besides the loud music coming from inside the house. 

Shrugging, I took one final step towards the threshold until a groan sounded again, only this time louder. It sounded as if a large bird fell from the tree hanging overhead, feathers fluttering in the air.  I dropped my bag on the front porch before taking the steps back down two at a time towards where I heard the groans of pain; in between Jesse’s and Orie’s cars parked in the driveway. 

“Fuck,” I cursed seeing the crumbled body. 

Head snapped to the side, dark tendrils of hair covering her face, and an arm draped over her midsection. I winced as I saw the contortment of it, knowing that it had to be broken. 

Where the hell did she come from? 

There was a sudden surge that spread from my heart to every vein inside of me; flowing through in shocking waves. I couldn’t place it but seeing this figure in front of me, there was something so familiar about it; her. A painful groan fell from her lips and I breathed in relief, almost forgetting to check if she was alive. I’d been so entranced in her familiarity. 

Gently scooping the body up into my arms, the dark hairs fell away from her face and I sucked in a breath when I noticed there were fresh cut marks along her cheek, and blood dripping from her ears. I rushed her inside, gaining stares from my roommates, who immediately stopped the music. 

“What the fuck?” Orie’s voice was raised. 

I shook my head while setting her on the couch in our living room. “I don’t know, man.”

Our house was packed with random faces; some I recognized, others I didn’t. I knew there was a party tonight but suddenly, I wanted everyone that didn’t live here out. 

Folio, who noticed my expression, waved a finger in the air. “Alright, I think it’s time to end this party. Thanks for coming, everyone!” 

Pretty quickly, everyone who didn’t live there or weren’t part of Bad Omens left the house. 

“Where did you find her?” Nick asked.

I hesitated. “That’s the thing. I found her lying broken in the driveway.”

“The driveway?” Jolly gasped. “How long had she been out there?” 

I shrugged while brushing away the stray hairs from her face, hearing a soft but painful breath falling from her dry, cracked lips. My eyes grazed down the line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts that were barely covered by the tattered black shirt; it looked as if it was burned off. I tossed a blanket over her to help cover her modesty. 

Something glinted in my vision and I looked back at her neck to see a golden chain hanging loosely between the valley of her breasts. My heart dropped to my stomach as the reality slammed into me. 

I’ve seen this chain before; in my dreams. My lips tasted that chain in my dreams. 

My hands shook at my side as a shaky breath escaped from my throat and Jolly called my name. 

“Hm, what?” I turned to look at him. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Should we call the police? She looks like she’s been attacked.” 

“No,” I said a little too suddenly. “She just needs a place to rest. We don’t know what happened. I’ll ask when she wakes up.” 

I slowly sunk into the chair across from the couch, resting my elbows on my knees, watching the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was still breathing. 

Jesse stared down at her from behind the couch and let out a low whistle. “It’s a miracle that she’s even breathing right now. We should probably wrap her arm. It could be broken.” 

Just then, Michael returned with our first aid kit and handed it to me. I took it with a small smile and started rummaging through it to look for the hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls. The least I could do while she slept was clean the wounds on her face. 

The softness of her face twisted as the sting of peroxide sunk deep within her wounds and when a whimper fell from her lips, my cock twitched in my jeans. Images of her lying spread wide in my bed for me flashed in my mind and I did my best to push them to the back of my brain. 

“How did she end up in the driveway? Looking like this?” Orie asked as he finished wrapping up her arm. 

“I don’t know,” I sighed while sitting back in my chair, eyes still trained on her. “With how I found her, it looks like she fell from somewhere.”

Jolly shook his head as he sat on the armrest of the couch, also watching the stranger. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

All seven of us stood around the body laying on the couch, wondering and watching to see if she would wake. 

“Maybe she’s an angel,” Jesse snorted, trying to ease the sudden tension. 

“Angels don’t exist,” my eyes snapped up towards him. 

Jesse held his hands up. “It’s a joke, Noah. But you have to admit it’s a little weird.” 

I ran a hand over my jaw and nodded. “I know. I couldn’t leave her out there, though. Once she wakes up, I’ll take her wherever she wants.”

“Luce,” the woman croaked out, head turning towards the side. 

Her voice rang out in song, echoing throughout the house, and my heart rose in my throat hearing how eternal it sounded. I barely knew anything about her but I couldn’t ignore the way my soul felt connected to her. Maybe it was because of seeing this form in my dreams or fate that I found her in my driveway, almost as if I was destined to help her. 

“What did she say?” Nick questioned. 

 Folio shrugged while leaning over her. “Luce? Maybe that’s her name?” 

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and with one swift movement, the woman had her legs wrapped around Folio’s midsection and him pinned to the ground. Her good forearm was pressed deep into his neck while he lay frozen underneath her.  All of us were on our feet but none made a move to stop her, not knowing if it would ultimately help or make things worse. 

“Who are you?” 

The venom in her voice was cold as ice. 

“Ni-Nick,” Folio choked out. 

The woman tilted her head towards him. “Where am I?” 

Taking a tentative step towards her, I placed a soft hand on her shoulder. “I found you outside.” 

It was as if my touch meant nothing to her, eyes still burning deep into Folio. It wasn’t until I spoke again that she finally noticed I was touching her. 

“You’re hurt. I brought you inside to help you.” 

Before I could register what happened, I felt myself being pinned up against the front door, fiery red eyes staring deep into my soul. With all the doubt that plagued my mind the last hour as I watched her sleep on the couch, I tried to tell myself that I didn’t know who she was. It was all a coincidence that parts of her reminded me of the figure I dreamed of.

But the moment I saw those bright red eyes, I knew that all the doubt was wrong. This was the same woman I dreamed of the last seven nights. 

LETHIA

With my nails digging into the fresh skin of the man in front of me, I assessed every inch of his face. The brown eyes widened in slight horror when my nails dug deeper and I took in the way his lips parted, breaths coming out broken. His long hair was held back by a clip but strands still fell into his face and I cocked my head to the side when I realized something drastic. 

Well, a few things. 

First, I couldn’t feel my hand around this man's throat. I squeezed harder, my face twitching in anger, when I still couldn’t feel his skin underneath my grasp. I expected to feel the erratic thrum of his pulse or his Adam's apple dip low as he swallowed. 

Instead, I felt nothing. 

No. It couldn’t be. 

I’ve heard tales of this happening to the Fallens but I never believed it to be true.  An old folks tale the other Archangels discussed over a cup of wine. 

My eyes blinked as I slowly removed my hand from the man’s throat, fingers shaking with the realization. The dark nails mocked me for my failure, scolding me for taking the darkness over the light. 

The second thing I realized? I’ve seen this face before. Moments before I fell, it flashed in my mind like a photograph, every fucking detail. The long brown hair, bright brown eyes to match, the freckles that littered over his nose and cheeks, the tattoo that wrapped around his throat where my fingers were moments before; a snake, apples, and hands. 

How metaphorical. 

“What’s going on with me?” I muttered bringing my hand to my chest, noticing it was wrapped in some kind of material. 

“You hurt your arm, we wrapped it for you,” a different voice spoke. 

My head snapped to the left, seeing another man slowly approach me. His voice sounded different than the others and I narrowed my eyes at him. 

“You’re not from around here,” I noted. 

A snort sounded from behind me causing me to whirl my body towards it, seeing yet another strange man staring at me. 

“Not from around here? Who talks like that?” 

Someone smacked him in the chest. “Michael, don’t be an asshole.” 

“I’m just saying, Nick. She wakes up in our home and attacks two of our friends. Are we supposed to allow that? We don’t even know her fucking name.” 

My tongue clicked against my teeth. “Lethia.” 

Various sets of eyes stared at me until the man who had an attitude spoke.; Michael. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My name-,” I spoke slowly. “-Is Lethia.”

Michael snorted. “Well, Lethia, where the hell did you come from?” 

Giving him a wave of my hand, I decided it wasn’t worth answering that question only because none of these men deserve to know.

“Who’s Luce?” 

I snapped my eyes towards the man I had pinned against the door, heart stuttering in my chest. “Excuse me?” 

He rubbed at the fresh red marks on his neck. “You said it in your sleep.” 

Lucifer. 

I licked my lips, widely shaking my head. “I need to leave.” 

A soft voice called to me. “We can take you back home.”

This man had a buzzed head and a beard. “Although, you should get those injuries checked out.” 

“I’ll heal,” I answered honestly.

Lethia, come to me.

I gazed around the room to see if that voice belonged to any of the seven of them although I knew it didn’t. I knew exactly who uttered those words. 

“I have to go.” 

The man from my vision stood tall against the door, not allowing me to leave. My jaw ticked with anger and I motioned behind him. 

“Move.” 

His brow raised. “That’s a funny way of saying thank you for saving your life.” 

“Thank you?” I chuckled darkly. “You simply did nothing for me except keep me prisoner in this home.” 

“Prisoner?” It was his turn to chuckle. “I fucking found you in my driveway, broken and bruised. The least you can do is tell us what the hell happened!”

They’ll never understand. Mere mortals never did. 

I might not understand where I was but I knew mortals when I saw one. Their smell was different than angels; some were stronger than others. Except for the man blocking my way out. It was different, his aura, and I didn’t want to admit it but it drew me into him. There had to be a reason why I saw him mere seconds before I fell from the Kingdom. 

The two of us were unmoving, not wanting to break first, and one of the men must have felt the tension because one gently stepped between us; the one that sounded different from the rest.

“Noah, let her go.” 

Something fluttered in my stomach and I nearly shook with the unknown feeling. Never in my life had I felt something like this, even during my time with Lucifer. But with this mortal, Noah, it was entirely something new and it scared me to the depths of hell. 

Noah scrunched his face with anger but eventually stepped to the side, allowing me to leave. 

“Thank you,” I mocked with a slight curl to my lip; more like a snarl. 

After two steps toward the door, I froze when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eyes. Titling my head towards the glass, my reflection stared back at me and I gasped at what I saw. 

Short black hair, black ink covering almost every inch of skin across my shoulders and arms, my shirt barely hanging one by a thread, and what shocked me the most were my eyes; crimson red, not the vibrant violet. 

“No, it can’t be,” I brought my shaking hand to my mouth. 

Suddenly,  an ear-piercing ringing dug deep in my ears and I brought my hands to them, screwing my eyes shut. My head throbbed in pain as if someone was scratching their claws there. With one eye open, I noticed Michael held some kind of device in his hand. 

“Wh-what is that dreaded noise?” I stuttered. 

“A phone? Fuck, how hard did you hit your head?” 

A what? 

When the ringing stopped, I stood taller and for the first time, took in my surroundings. Everything in this home looked different than how we lived in the Kingdom. While we had advantaged technology, we simply didn’t have things of this nature. 

“None of this makes sense,” I whispered to myself before my eyes landed on a small device on a table. 

October 12, 2021. 

I nearly stumbled on my feet when everything began to click into place. Someone during my fall, I landed in a time that hadn’t existed yet. 

Noah could tell something was off because he turned towards me, a frown pulling at his lips. “Are you alright?” 

Without saying another word, I left in such haste, I hadn’t realized what I left behind in my wake. 

NOAH

My eyes stared at the space in front of me, the door wide open as it let in the cool night air. Those red eyes haunted me in Lethai’s wake and my skin crawled when an old dream crept back into my consciousness. 

I lay in my bed, bare for her to see, Lethia’s tongue traced down my chest and then stomach to brush across my navel. I gripped her dark hair, wrapping it around my fingers to guide her head farther down. My cock throbbed with such an ache, I was sure it wouldn’t last. Beads of precum slipped from the slit and Lethia’s tongue danced around it, tasting me. 

“Fuck,” I cursed as my eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy. 

“Look at me, Noah.” 

My eyes snapped open at Lethia’s firm tone and felt my heart stop dead in my chest; her eyes were glowing red. 

“Noah!” 

Breaking free from my trance, I gazed over to Orie. “Did you say something?” 

“We did all we could, man. There’s no use dwelling on it.” 

He patted my shoulder before they all dispersed into their sections of the house. But not me, I remained frozen in my spot, still staring at the vast darkness past the threshold. There was something just outside the realm of that darkness that caught my eye, it fluttered in the wind until it fell to the concrete just outside the door. 

With furrowed brows, I bent low to pick it up, analyzing it with curious eyes. It was a black feather, at least twelve inches in length, and the softness of it was something I’d never felt before. 

“Who are you, Lethia?” I murmured to myself, holding the feather close to my chest.

#tina talks #noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian x fallenangel!oc #mercy noah sebastian

[dior-roses]

obsession, auston matthews

ꨄ︎ pairing: stepbro!auston matthews x reader

ꨄ︎ summary: he's a man obsessed, his mind replays any and every interaction he's had the honor to have with you. because let's face it, in his mind, you are more than just his step-sister, you are a goddess in his eyes. and who is he to not steal something for his earnings?

ꨄ︎ requested: yes/no

���︎ warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of dark(?), mentions of smut (like barely any, in my eyes), stepcest (do not condone, in fact, am highly against it), auston's lowkey got a god complex, a hint of reader being innocent, implied age gap (reader is 18!)

ꨄ︎ author's note: it's been so long since i've written anything and im so insecure in this so please love it! (give me validation). a self indulgent auston blurb (?) that came to mind when i saw this slutty little edit of him. please forgive me for any grammar mistakes to typos, for i wrote this while i was saying hello to my friend mary jane. much love to every one of you who decides to read this mess of a story, and shall we meet again!🤍

he should've felt disgusted with himself. his skin should be crawling with his current demeanor. the hairs in the back of his neck should be standing up straight when the idea briefed over his mind during the excruciating quiet family dinner that your parents force you guys to have nightly.

but he wasn't.

in fact, he was quite proud of himself, with how far he's gotten into this 'plan' of his. here he was, in the midst of the day while you were at school, attending your one out of only three classes you had to attend your senior year, standing in the middle of your bedroom.

he had taken the afternoon off, canceling his strength training, his excuse being that he was sick. along with his place of employment he texted you, the one thing that had been occupying his mind ever since he laid eyes on you. your parents having you guys meet, thus starting his obsession.

to their shock, neither of you were angry when your father announced that they had eloped. both of you sat across from the newly weds in a low light restaurant, with pristine christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling. a little annoyed, maybe; at least you were. you never got the chance to ask him how he felt about the whole ordeal. but from what you could see, he was perfectly contempt with the major life change.

he shifts in your room, walking backwards until the back of his calfs hit the edge of you bed, causing him to plop down harshly with an anticipated huff. your pure vanilla sent traveled to his nostrils, and himself becoming encapsulated with only you. his hands laid stoic along the tops of his thighs, even though he wanted nothing more than to palm himself through his pants. he was already half hard, just by your scent.

his eyes lingered to your nightstand, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips at just how perfectly girly it was. a picture of you laughing with your friends in your camp counselor shirt from the past summer, your forgotten airpods, which he thought about how irritated you were when you figured that out, a small pout on your lips. god, he wanted nothing more than to feel yours against his.

he would be happy if it was just on his cheek, as a thankful gesture.

as he admired your dimples through the glass of the picture frame, he could help but let curiosity get the best of him. that's how he got here in the first place, right? his eyes trailed down to the drawer that was painted a darker color than the rest of the dresser, to perfectly match the rest of your room.

he hoped one day he could see if your room truly matched you– light perfectly balanced with dark. he already knew the light part was too good to be true, with your big eyes that light up at the sight of him, but only enough that he would notice. the way you blush if he gets too close to you, not that he creeps you out or anything, but the fact that it was a man besides your dad that was this close to you. even if it was your step brother.

you didn't know why you felt this way around auston, you didn't know what made him different from any other boy you thought was pretty. bust auston was so, so, pretty that you couldn't help but redirect your eyes to your shoes when he caught your burning gaze. your skin burned from what seemed like hour from when he would place his hands on your waist to 'move you out of the way'. and it had only grown with time, with how nice he is to you and the names he calls you that he doesn't seem to do with anyone else. 'princess', 'baby', or even 'doll' when he's showing you how to swing a golf club, on those rare, rare, days when he could finally persuade you to come with him to the country club just down the street. he even bought you your own little golf girl outfit, all baby pink and white, to perfectly match the picture of you he has implemented into his mind.

and you had thought you were going to look ridiculous, and you did, until you saw the way he looked at you as you walked down stairs where he was waiting for you. a certain glint was in his eyes the entire day, and you couldn't help but squirm in the passengers seat as he was driving. trying to descreetly press your thighs together to at least try to ease the pressure and throbbing that was happening down there. you didn't know what caused the throbbing but it was so strange and unfamiliar that you couldn't help but sniffle lightly, suppressing a whine at how uncomfortable you felt. but you didn't completely hate it. especially not when auston was right next to you, his large frame blocking the street lights that passed by through his window, his side profile creating the perfect tattoo of a shadow on your face, one that you didn't want to go away.

of course he had noticed his little girl writhing around in the passenger seat of his car. her soft thighs pressing against each other, all supple and smooth from imperfections. he needed to be suffocated by them, the image he wanted to die from was your shaking body from all the pleasure he was causing you, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as he sucked you clit in between his full lips.

he had completely forgotten he was in heaven, (your room), when he felt the pulse from his balls that he was about the cum, all from the thoughts of your innocence and his hand that found his hard on cock through his sweatpants. he didn't want to do that yet, not without the one thing that caused him to be here in the first place.

the most obvious place would be the dresser, so he head towards that area of your room, placed right next to your closet. and surprise, surprise! the top drawer just happened to be your underwear drawer. all filed with pale colored bras and panties, not that they were old, but because those were the colors you loved; all muted and quiet, instead of vibrant and loud. you was shocked you had some lace and he would've gone for those, but that's not what he was going for.

his mind craved something less out there and more reserved. something that he had seen tossed in the washer with his colored laundry load, a pair of your painted that were red with white little hearts scattered across the cotton material. a throaty groan came from his as he felt his cock twitch, being retrained by the boxers and pants he wore.

he could only imagine your ass being perfect covered in white little hearts, or even getting a glimpse of them as you sit down next to him on the couch in the living room after a long day at school. your school uniform only urging on his obsession– a short little navy blue pleaded skirt with thigh high socks, and the cutest little best he had ever seen. the way the thick knitted wool spread across the curves of your breasts.

god, he was nothing but a man obsessed.

#auston matthews #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey #dark aesthetic #stepbro!auston #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fic #fanfic #romance #hockey boys #jack hughes #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #ethan edwards #luke hughes #mark estapa

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: incubus!grimmjow jaegerjacquez x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

about: the ravenous desire of your roommate never seems to abate despite the late nights he spends outside of the comfort of your apartment. when he approaches you, the truth comes out. can you fulfill the appetite of an incubus?

contents: nsfw - mdni. cw dark content - dubcon, somnophilia. brief mention of masturbation (f), unprotected penetrative sex (piv), light degradation (slut/slutty), creampie, possessiveness. reader is only partially awake/aware through the fic and assumes she's dreaming.

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! yall ever wanted to fuck a cat boy demon before bc i know i have and here he is in all his weirdo glory. what i love about doing this is that it rly forces me out of my element (writing more smut bc historically i haven't enjoyed writing it all that much) and exploring new/darker concepts i haven't always felt like i have the ability to write.

hopefully this is something everyone can enjoy! thank you for reading ♡

Since you signed your lease nine months ago, you’ve always had a standing agreement with your strange roommate Grimmjow.

“If you need anything, just knock on my door and I’ll be there.”

You aren’t sure why you felt compelled to offer your time or support to the man in the first place - perhaps it was your too tender heart taking one roving glance over him and realizing that he simply looked like he needed someone. Eyes like a predator, narrowed and a sharp, angular frame in an oversized t-shirt. You met him through an online post looking for a roommate and desperation, and the end of your relationship, gave you no option but to accept. The situation appeared too fortuitously for you to turn it down.

The past nine months have gone as swimmingly as one could expect living with a stranger would, though. 

He comes and goes without much fuss but if you are honest with yourself - you find some of his habits strange. You try not to think too hard about them, after all you’re just his roommate and he owes you no explanation, but there are times where you wonder why he skulks late at night. When he comes home after these late night adventures, you always notice him looking rested the next day and it has never made sense to you. The dark circles under his eyes seem to magically abate and his posture fixes itself, walking tall and strong across the scuffed wooden floors the two of you share.

Aside from this, though - he pays his half of the rent on time, he manages to clean up after himself as well as you can expect, and he asks you no questions about who you are or what you’re doing with your life.

Until tonight, strangely enough.

“What are you gettin’ up to tonight?” 

Grimmjow’s voice is a growl more so than anything else, as long as you’ve known him it has been this way, but it sounds different. Lower, perhaps. You tip your head to the side and offer a half smile, shrugging and letting the collar of your oversized t-shirt fall off of your shoulder enough to expose the flesh beneath it.

“Weather’s supposed to be shitty so I’m staying in. Same as usual.” 

He hums his answer, stretching his legs to place his feet on the table across from the couch where you both sit. You take a moment to look over him - blue eyes and hair to match. You’ve never asked him if the hair color is natural, assuming the opposite is true, but you have never seen a hint of dark brown or blonde growing out of his head. 

In fact, there’s a lot of things you’ve never seen him do but you’ve always just assumed he does them at night while he’s out but you try too hard not to think about it. The two of you have a no questions asked policy, at least silently you’ve agreed to one but you bite further, breaking your own internal code to pry for details.

“How about you?”

Shifting where he sits, he puts his arms up over his head and readjusts his legs, one foot resting on top of the other. You watch his shift in posture, eyes trailing up long legs and admiring the way his bicep bulges with the angle his arm is bent at. It’s strange but you’ve never taken the time to really look at your roommate in all these months but now that you are.

He’s pretty hot. 

You look away quickly, hoping you weren’t caught in the act of boundary bouncing, placing your hands in your lap primly and he smirks, settling into the couch behind him with a few wiggles of his shoulders. He takes his turn looking at you, a smile you’re trying to hide and hair still damp after getting out of the shower, and he wonders how you haven’t caught onto him yet. This isn’t the first time he has eyed you with those blazing, partially sunken eyes but you feel the intensity of it this time and tuck your shoulders forward to hide the embarrassment of being seen.

“Might stick around,” he sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Feelin’ kinda hungry though.”

Instantly, you beam. Perhaps this could be a good way for the two of you to actually get to know each other since you have never really shared a meal with the man outside of shitty pizza on the nights you’ve stayed up late enough to greet him before he leaves and doesn’t return until sunrise. 

“I can make us some dinner if you wanna stick around? If not, I get it, it’s not supposed to get super bad out until later.”

What you don’t realize is that the hunger he’s speaking of is something very different than what can be sated by what you’re offering. Despite this, for a brief moment, he considers it and you watch him do so. He licks his bottom lip, pink tongue darting out and takes one of his hands off of the back of his head  to rub his thumb in the wet trail left behind by the motion.

“Nah, I gotta do a couple things.”

Heat you’ve never felt before crawls up the back of your neck and you look away again. You’re flustered, the effortless eroticism of whatever just happened making your skin feel itchy, and he chuckles. 

What could possibly be so funny? 

You think of the question but don’t say it aloud, almost embarrassed at his reaction to you. Did you misread his suggestion? Did you just make the next three months of your lease unbearably awkward? 

Grimmjow takes his feet off the table and places them on the ground, leaning forward and your gaze falls on the forward bend of his spine and the way the overgrown hair at the nape of his neck curls slightly. 

Why are your eyes so drawn to him today? It feels as though it takes all of your self control just to look away but you manage to, cheeks warm and hairline dappled with sweat. This feeling is strange in a way that you lack the words to explain and you keep your eyes trained on the ground even as he stands up and stretches, his shirt exposing the bottom of his abdomen.

“I’ll take you up on your offer another night, though.”

Flicking your eyes upward, you catch the sliver of tanned skin just above his waistline and another rash of heat crawls across your face. Your mouth is dry and you nod, lifting your face enough to give him an uncertain and forced smile.

“You alright?” Again, you nod. It’s all you can do right now until you have a sip of water or get some air or…something. He smirks and gives you a sidelong glance as he heads toward the door.

“Get some fresh air, it might make you feel better.”

Your face heats further knowing that he can tell what’s happening to you but he makes no other comment. The sound of him slipping on his jacket and boots fills the otherwise quiet apartment and he opens the door hoping he can find something to sate this appetite before he comes home and makes it your problem.

Judging by how you reacted to him tonight, though, you may not be all that upset if he does make it your problem but that’s a boundary to be tested another time.

“Fuck,” you whimper with your lip tucked between your teeth, the squelching of your fingers working in and out of your own sopping cunt filling your bedroom interspersed with whines and moans both from you and the little video on your phone.

The moment Grimm left, the heat became unbearable. You thought about taking your shorts off right on the couch and letting your fingers explore but held yourself back, instead taking a few minutes to walk around, have something to drink, to see if the need started to feel less intense.

After several minutes of intense pacing, you decided to take care of the issue yourself. Sure, it’s perverted and wrong to feel this turned on simply by taking a good hard look at your damn near otherworldly roommate but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and after this you’ll go back to keeping your distance.

Letting your fingers dip further inside of you, you gasp, mouth forming the first letter of his name. Immediately you freeze, shocked that you’d be so brazen despite the apartment being empty, and you shut your eyes tightly and silently work yourself toward orgasm with someone else’s pleas for more playing through the speaker on your phone. 

A little whimper is all you manage, walls clenching around your digits. It isn’t the best you’ve ever had but it isn’t the worst either and it seems like enough for now to help your racing heartbeat calm down to something more manageable. Withdrawing your fingers with a deep breath, filling your lungs completely before emptying them in the same fashion by exhaling, you roll over onto your side, locking and tossing your phone on the bedside table. 

What the fuck just happened? What the fuck has this entire evening been?

Chuckling at the absurdity of the past few hours, you reach around blindly for something to wipe your sticky hand on and settle on the t-shirt you discarded earlier. You know you need to get up but you feel pleasantly dazed instead, wiping your fingers and keeping your heavy eyes shut. 

Free from embarrassment and far less wound up, you start to doze. The room is cool and the fall storm the news warned you about blows outside, the gentle sound of thunder lulling you into an unexpected but much needed rest. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear a knock, knock, knock at your cracked bedroom door.

Eyes fluttering open just enough to see Grimmjow standing in the doorway, you shut and open them just to make sure you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. It’s too dark to make out all of him but your blurry eyes scan his face, noticing his cheeks look almost hollow and the same deep dark circles beneath his eyes before he left tonight look darker and heavier. 

“Grimm?” You ask and his response is a low growl, footsteps echoing through your quiet room as he pads toward the edge of your bed. “Are you okay?”

He stalks like a predator across the floor, making methodical and swift footfalls at the foot of your bed. You sit up, forgetting that you fell asleep completely nude, and his pacing stops when his eyes settle on your exposed breasts, your blanket bunched beneath them.

“I’m hungry,” he repeats just as he did earlier and you are too tired to figure out what he means. Giggling, you still haven’t noticed the way he eyes you hungrily, stiffened nipples grabbing his attention and keeping it. 

“Couldn’t find anything good to eat while you were out?”

Your words are a jumble, something that would make sense to no one else but the man who has lived with you for 9 months who has figured out your morning sleepy voice and the way it all blurs together. He approaches the edge of your bed and sits down, watching you lay back down and settle against your comforter.

“Nothing sounded good,” he admits, flipping around and crawling on all fours up the bed. You’re so sweet and disarmed, rain pattering on the windowpane while your chest rises and falls and your eyes fight to stay shut. “Definitely not as good as what’s at home.”

You giggle again, eyes closed so you don’t notice the way the distance between the two of you closes further. His body is large but lithe and each movement sends him closer and closer to you until he catches the scent of something familiar.

Arousal. 

He grins, feral and large, crawling the extra few inches to fully envelop you. Caging you in with his arms, your eyes open and see his face inches from yours, his bare chest almost pressing against your own.

“What are you doing?”

The question doesn’t seem alerted or concerned, just curious, and sleepy you reaches out to brush your fingers down the defined bicep holding him up. He chuckles and the sound makes the same heat you felt hours ago crawl up your neck and that’s the moment you realize something is different about him. Your hackles raise slightly and you sit up but he pushes you back down gently, hand splayed between your breasts.

“You said I could come to you for anything I needed, right?”

Despite the fact his hand feels so hot it could burn a hole straight through your body, you nod. You offered yourself months ago and he had yet to take advantage of your kindness. Leaning down, he watches your eyes fully open and presses his forehead to yours.

“I need you,” he mutters and your eyes meet his. A storm of blue, a flurry of something you have never seen before. He groans, almost looking pained and you gasp and hold onto his bicep. You can put two and two together, intelligent and alert enough to manage that much, and your hand slides over where his palm rests on your chest. 

“Like this?” You ask, sliding his hand from the space between your breasts to cupping one of them and he nearly growls feeling your skin beneath his fingers. His thumb dances over your hardened nipple and you gasp, shivering beneath him.

“Bet you never thought you’d end up with somethin’ like me in your apartment,” he taunts, hand tracing down your body, mapping out your stomach and hips. You don’t think much of his words, lost to the sensation of being touched and the heat incinerating all rational thought inside of you, but one word catches your interest and you repeat it.

“Don’t you mean someone?”

Another chuckle shakes his body, his fingers caressing your thigh. He shakes his head where it’s pressed against yours and you can only watch when he licks his lips again just as he did earlier, the motion making your head spin.

“Nah, I’m a somethin’.”

With this, he wants to stop further questioning and he leans in to kiss you. By this point your mind should be catching up, alert and awake, but you aren’t convinced this isn’t some kind of strange horny dream you managed to conjure up so you kiss him back eagerly. The wet sound of lips smacking together in a frenzy fills the room, tongues sliding against one another and you even yelp when he nips at your lower lip, sucking the fullness of it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand that was tracing across your thighs now pushing them open. He paws at your still slick pussy, a thick finger slipping between your lips with little resistance. He revels in the feeling of your hot arousal, smearing it around your hole and rubbing little circles around your clit rather than on it that make you whimper.

“Grimm,” you pant and he only chuckles, a second digit joining the first in spreading your wetness. The pressure of the two fingers makes your hips buck, desperate for more.

“You've been having fun without me? Sure feels like it.”

Puzzled, you wonder what he means until you realize that he can insert a finger inside of you without any resistance, still worked open from your previous attempts to get yourself off. Walls clenching around the single digit, he groans into your ear. Your warmth feels luxurious, like silk. It’s more than he could have ever hoped for.

“I don’t mind,” he continues massaging your walls with his finger in the way only an expert can. You surely must be dreaming, none of your other partners have ever been this skilled with just their fingers, and you let yourself have this moment. What’s the worst that could happen? “Gettin’ this eager little pussy all ready for me is almost too nice of you.”

The words are filthy and they make you whine, hips bucking against his hand and where it rests over the top of your pelvis. You’re greedy, desperate for more. He could do just about anything to you right now and you know that you’d let him, drooling pussy leaking down his finger.

“You want more? Tired of feelin’ so empty?”

The slow rolls of your hips tell him all he needs to know and he uses his free hand to slip out of the sweatpants he wore into your bedroom, cock already hard and leaving a wet spot on the front of them. He rolls his eyes, tossing them aside as fluidly as he can while still keeping you full of his fingers.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you what we both need. Gonna fill this fuckin’ slutty pussy up, give you what you were almost beggin’ me for earlier.”

Ah yes, that. Even dream you can’t escape the embarrassment of his effect on you in the living room but you let the feeling go, instead focusing on how good it feels every time the pad of his finger brushes against the spot deepest inside of you that your own fingers could never reach. 

“I want it,” you admit aloud. He smirks, finger withdrawing from you and making you whine. Your body feels as hot as it did hours ago and twice as wound up, clit throbbing from lack of attention. Blood pulses in your ears and you look up, witnessing the way he’s coating his shaft in his own precum with a gasp.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna fill you up just like you need,” he coos, it’s so condescending but you hardly notice, too busy reveling in the way it feels when the fat head of his cock brushes through your folds. You don’t have to think about anything right now and you embrace the feeling, allowing him control. 

What he doesn’t mention is that he needs it even more than you do, the maw inside of him demanding that he slip inside of you just like he is now.

He shudders, body tensing as he sheaths himself inside of you in one sharp movement, your breath catching in your throat when his balls slap against your ass. He’s so impossibly deep and despite how wet and opened up you are, your cunt stretches deliciously to accommodate his girth. 

Again, this has to be a dream. Nothing in real life could ever feel this good and your toes curl, spread legs shifting to link at the ankles and wrap around his waist. You feel the firmness of his ass against your calves as he grinds into you, the gentleness ending as quickly as it started when he draws his hips back completely and thrusts back inside of you in one swift motion.

Your back arches off of the bed and he drinks in the sight of you, flashes of lightning outside allowing enough light to leak in to give him a good look at everything he has been vying to see. The knot inside of him slowly starts to untangle, his furious pace making your body bounce up the bed and he wonders why he waited this long to just give in.

Perhaps he’s losing his touch after years. He could’ve just snuck in and taken you any evening he wanted to, you wouldn’t be the first he’d done it to given his nearly unquenchable thirst, but he wanted you to want it too. To want him. To give yourself to him.

He chuckles like a wild man, leaning over your body and kissing you again while holding your hips in place to fuck you wildly.

“Takin’ me so well I might have to make you all mine,” he offers and you moan, clenching around him. So you liked that, he takes a note. You like being wanted, you like being taken. He knew it from the moment he saw you but he always loves it when a gut feeling is confirmed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Lettin’ an incubus use your pussy whenever he wants like a slut, right?”

Your eyes widen at the word. Incubus - you recall reading some asinine online story about a woman who swore she’d been fucked by one years ago but again, this is your weird dream about your abnormally hot roommate so you don’t question it. 

“Yeah, I love it Grimm,” you whisper against his mouth, tongue too heavy to say much else. You’ve never felt like this before, body singing and silky walls clinging to his cock, and you’re ready to let yourself start the endless freefall of pleasure, eyes shutting tightly while he grunts above you.

“That’s right, I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

Keeping your eyes screwed shut, you only nod and he lets you grind against his pelvis, clit brushing the dusting of blue hair at the base of his cock. It’s soft and silky and it’s just what you need, friction spurring you further into bliss as you cum with a shout, eyes shooting open.

This isn’t a dream, you realize suddenly, feeling Grimm’s cock drilling in and out of you at a breakneck pace. You are in your bed, thunder rolling outside, your phone on the bedside table, your body bouncing with every thrust. Your blue haired roommate hovers just above you, face twisted in pleasure while glancing down at where the two of you are joined, the slick sound of your pussy bringing you to reality.

This is really happening and honestly, you just..let it. 

Reaching for Grimmjow, you card your fingers through his hair, and he lets his eyes flutter closed. Your fingers dance through the same short hair at the nape of his neck you were admiring hours earlier and he grunts, hips stilling. Using both hands to hold you in place, he fills your eager cunt full of his creamy release and you moan along with him.

Unceremoniously, he slumps forward and your chests touch. You giggle and kiss his forehead, looking down to see him looking far better than he did when he entered your room. His eyes don’t gleam dangerously anymore and the dark circles seem to have sorted themselves out, his face resting on the top of your breast.

“Hey Grimm?”

He looks up, surprised you’re alert enough to even let that much come out of your mouth. 

“Everything you said…”

You don’t have to elaborate further, he’s aware of what you’re asking. Is it true? Did he admit what he really is, what the source of his appetite is?

“Yup.”

You don’t ask for further explanation and he doesn’t plan on giving it, content to let you run your fingers through his hair as the storm rages outside.

#grimmjow x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader #kendall writes #thot-o-ween 2023 #monster mash 2023 #cw somnophilia #cw dubcon #cw dark content