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nunsongici · 6 months

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"For you. For all of us."

I do believe "for you" was originally intended for both of them, or even all of them. But, (spoilers,) by the end of this, my delusions win.

Although I'm a shameless lokius shipper who can and will talk about them even on a first date or a job interview, I do believe there was much more going on in this scene than just a showcasing of a tragic love story. And that's not saying that wouldn't be meaningful (these types of stories are the only reason I still read fjjffj stop that's actually very sad...)

For me the story is very similar to how Luca's story ended. Hear me out, please, I'm crazy but I might not even be that crazy by the end of this.

Loki's first season and Luca both came out in June of 2021 so I might just connect them subconsciously, but the way Enrico Casarosa (director of Luca) said the movie was open to all interpretations hasn't left my mind since then. That's a huge part of making art, leaving the interpretation up to the viewer and not giving clear instructions. This way you can actually showcase such layers and depth that are much more similar to real life emotions. Because the line is blurry, no matter what. No label is clear enough to say why you love the way you do and how you do it. It's complex and beautiful.

Loki and Mobius, their relationship is beautiful because it has this complexity. I think it's worth mentioning, that what I'm about to say is a subjective interpretation, because this is my idea of love.

They did develop that friendship that articles like to highlight and we love to clown.

But seriously that platonic friendship is there and it doesn't cancel out the hints of romance at all. That's why I'm also okay with the sylki kiss. Although the first time watching it, for me it felt unnecessary, I can see the significance of it happening. It's an emotional moment, them failing to recognise what they want, their unawareness of the bigger picture, and the comedy of it all, him falling in love with himself. Also... we never really talk about why Sylvie accepts the kiss and her inner conflicts? I need to think a lot more about Sylvie and her wants... but that's not gonna happen in this post, because I'm already going on, anyways... Guess what, Mobius calls this out two times.

"What a incredible seismic narcissist."

"It’s a complicated relationship, okay? There’ s a lot unpack when you’re basically in a relationship with yourself. They say opposites attract. No." *does that face, taking a sip of his shake💅*

It's the same of him being the only one who mentions Loki's behaviour changing. (I'm not sure if he's the only one noticing, but he's the only one who makes the choice of calling it out.) And I also love the way he says no to Loki when he asks him to trust him. Loki stays calm, and just says "watch".

This is so!!! Loki has been doing this for so long, he looks kind of numb to it – this might have happened many times before and he's done explaining or calming Mobius OR he's okay with Mobius's distrust because he on the other hand trusts himself enough that he doesn't have to feel threatened to lose their bond. He knows their bond is strong enough that he doesn't have to worry when Mobius's trust fades for a moment. And the episode proves me right when in the next moment Loki gets access.

"Yes!" Mobius says, grabbing Loki's arm with both his hands, anxious and relieved for a small moment!!!

And that's real trust, friendship and relationship right there.

Comfort, sacrifice and honest moments like these make me feel loved the most. You can't entirely trust someone, you can't expect love to stay the same and you can't expect that the past to just fade away, you can't forgive easily and yet you keep hoping.

"That's a lot of hoping." Sylvie says.

And Loki is the key and his beautiful, beautiful character arch.

Most of these points are connected to my own experiences of friendship and the working relationships I've seen. Just like in Luca, we make mistakes, sometimes things that are hard to forgive and this is kind of the essence of being human.

Now back to Luca and the way Mobius has to touch Loki like his life depends on it. There are touchy people (and it took me some time to realise I'm one of them.) Enrico says:

“We talked about it and I mean, I think the reason probably we didn’t talk about it as much and, to a certain degree, we’re slightly surprised by the amount of people talking about romance is that we were really focusing on friendship and so pre-romance. But it is a kind of love, right? There’s a lot of hugging and it’s physical and my experience as a straight man certainly wasn’t that. The things we did talk a lot about is what is the metaphor here for being a sea monster, for being different? And some people seem to get mad that I’m not saying yes or no, but I feel like, well, this is a movie about being open to any difference.” (source)

Yes, I do recognise the worries about queerbaiting, and yes, I can only wish that wasn't the issue at Disney. But imagine for a moment, a world where this isn't the case and we didn't have to fight with tooth and nail for representation. In that case this story works perfectly as a friendship and yet it doesn't cancel out the chance of it snowballing into romance.

And then there's the last scene. This post sums it up. What I need to add to this is that most story elements are finished. Loki's Glorious Purpose ending is tragic, angsty and hurtful but it's done, finished. His friendship with both Mobius and Sylvie, tragic angsty and hurtful, still finished. What remains and what drives the audience crazy, and in need for explanation is Mobius being shown in between his lives.

I've seen a lot of people make posts about this alredy. How the show kept telling us that Mobius doesn't want to see his life on the timeline, how Loki knows and brings this up to Sylvie, but it's never further explained, really. Other than the natural conclusion that you just might not want to give up your known reality for something new. The show introduces characters who would, so it's not that everyone would hesitate.

Mobius let go of Ravonna, although it hurt him. Mobius did not remember OB, Mobius got scolded by Sylvie. Hunter B-15 (or Verity, my girl♥︎ i love you so much...) and Casey might be his good friends but we don't really see that apart from that goodbye scene. (Which by the way, hurt like hell...) The only reason left is that Mobius cannot live without Loki properly and the last damn scene proves. this. to. be. the. case!!!!

"Let time pass."

I... I love movies man...

(end notes:

– I almost started writing a new paragraph about how this parallels to Spiderverse but let's just forget about that, because that's a box I don't want to open right now, because I will feel ✨dumb✨

– In the Hungarian dubbing he says "For you, Sylvie" and that perfectly sums up this shithole of a country... They did not put Sylvie into the subs though, a win is a win i guess...)

#loki spoilers #spoilers #loki season 2 #loki #loki tv show #loki series #lokius #rambling #mobius #sylvie #reviews from ici

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unproduciblesmackdown · 9 months

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oh the broadway world review of summer stock (a) loved it as much or more than anyone (b) has as much or more info than anyone and (c) generally has the most vivacity thus far

Summer Stock made its world premiere at The Goodspeed Opera House to a most deserving enthusiastic standing ovation. Based on the 1950 MGM film starring Hollywood legends Judy Garland and Gene Kelly, Summer Stock is a spectacular production with phenomenal dancing, feel-good music, and a sweet story, all modernized for today’s audiences.

Audiences will recognize and love hearing classic songs by Irving Berlin and from The Great American Songbook, including “Happy Days are Here Again”, “Accentuate the Positive”, “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows”, “It’s Only a Paper Moon”, “Me and My Shadow”, “Red Hot Mamma”, “’Til We Meet Again", and “You Wonderful You”. Summer Stock’s writer, Cheri Steinkellner, takes the original film story to a whole new level that both contemporary and classic theater goers will absolutely adore. Steinkellner provides additional lyrics to upgrade the story to first class. It’s hard to believe that she “got the call” to write Summer Stock in October, completed the workshop draft by March, and had the rehearsal draft ready by June for a July opening. Steinkellner clearly works well under pressure - Summer Stock is a diamond.

In the Writer’s Notes, Steinkellner elaborates on the restrictions of bringing the film to stage (like how heavy farm machinery wouldn’t fit up on the Goodspeed stage) and how she tackled answering the many questions that the original film glossed over: “Why is a Shakespearean matinee idol starring in a musical in a barn? What happens when you make show-people wake up at sunrise to muck out the stalls?” and more. She repositioned and repurposed the film’s original songs like “Howdy Neighbor” and “Dig for Your Dinner”, so the classic elements that film fans are looking for are still there - only, frankly, much much better. Lastly, she addresses the challenge of “crafting a [contemporary] story to support a diverse cast of characters with intention, authenticity, and care.” Steinkellner rose to the challenge, knocked it out of the park, and created a great musical in record time.

The story is simple and sweet. Set just after World War II, we meet Jane Falbury (Danielle Wade), a doting daughter working the family farm with her father, Lt. Henry “Pop” Falbury (Stephen Lee Anderson). The Falbury Farm is in trouble thanks to the devious and ambitious Margaret Wingate (Veanne Cox), who has grand aims for a monopoly over the Connecticut River Valley. Scheming with her naive son, Orville (Will Roland), they will stop at nothing to own the farm. Meanwhile, Jane’s showgirl sister, Gloria (Arianna Rosario), has moved to The Big Apple to make it on Broadway. She wins a spot in the chorus line of Joe Ross’ (Corbin Bleu) brand new show. With his sidekick and music director, Phil Filmore (Gilbert L. Bailey II) in tow and a Shakespearean star, Montgomery Leach, ready to take center stage, they hit a snag when they lose their rehearsal space. Gloria suggests uprooting the show to rehearse in her family’s barn. Jane, who is fresh out of farm hands, reluctantly agrees to let the actors stay in exchange for earning their keep. The company’s tight harmonies might not charm Jane at first, but they certainly had us swooning. I won’t spoil the entire plot, but will say that hilarity ensues, hearts flutter, dreams are realized, and it’s wonderful.

When I first heard about Summer Stock, I cynically thought that it felt too familiar. The show is set on a Connecticut farm whose owners have fallen on hard times and risk losing their livelihood. They turn to their Broadway friends, who are amidst the usual uphill battle of making it big in show business, and agree to put on a brand new production in the barn to raise funds to save the farm. It’s based on the film of the same name, features music by Irving Berlin, and includes incredible tap numbers, and spotlights America’s sweetheart Corbin Bleu. Hearing that alone, I’d think this was a copy/paste of Tony Award-nominated Holiday Inn: The New Irving Berlin Musical, which opened at The Goodspeed in 2014 and went to Broadway in 2016. We’ve seen a number of Irving Berlin musicals, including White Christmas, and the most recent Broadway production Nice Work if You Can Get It, starring Kelli O’Hara and Matthew Broderick. So, what more is there to add to this Broadway subgenre? If you’d asked me before, I would argue there’s “Nothing More to Say”. I was very wrong. Summer Stock raises the bar with phenomenal choreography, clever storytelling and humor, beautiful orchestrations, and unparalleled performers.

Speaking of unparalleled performers, the cast is perfection. There’s not a single throwaway line or character. They’re all exquisite gems and I’m running out of words to compliment them all. The “city mice” dancers and ensemble features Erika Amato, Hannah Balagot, DeShawn Bowens, Ronnie S. Bowman Jr., Emily Kelly, Francesca Mancuso, Tommy Martinez, Corinne Munsch, Gregory North, Kaylee Olson, Jack Sippel, and Cayel Tregeagle. Danielle Wade sweetly croons just like Judy Garland and swept audiences off their feet. As I left the theater, I overheard two ladies praising Wade for her stupendous performance, saying it was perfect likeness of Garland, yet even more meaningful. Arianna Rosario, as the sugary sweet sister, is absolutely delightful. Stephen Lee Anderson, as the veteran and father, tugs our heart strings. Gilbert L. Bailey II and Will Roland had the crowd roaring with laughter as the feisty music director and innocent corporate heir. Veanne Cox, as the melodramatic mother and CEO of Wingate Agricultural Corporate, had the crowd roaring with laughter from the moment she spoke her first line. Not to be outdone, J. Anthony Crane, as the over-the-top Shakespearean star, brought down the house with his entrance alone. Together, Cox and Crane generate instant heat, which is especially appropriate since they rock the stage with Red Hot Mamma. The cheeky, interspersed Shakespearean innuendo is fast-paced, clever, and had the audience hooting and hollering. I would see the show again for this duo.

Last, but far from least, Corbin Bleu, as the show’s director, gives the performance of a lifetime. Bleu radiates pure joy and leads with heart, inviting his scene partners to shine with him. Audiences instantly fell in love with his gorgeous, velvety voice, and, understandably, swooned. Bleu previously won the Chita Rivera Award for Outstanding Male Dancing in a Broadway Show for his portrayal in Irving Berlin’s Holiday Inn, and his transcendent tapping in Summer Stock shows he’s not stopping there. Bleu’s dancing is out of this world! You can’t miss his charming and virtuosic spin on Gene Kelly’s iconic solo dance, featuring the world’s most unexpected dance partner. Corbin Bleu is a national treasure.

The 8-piece orchestra, lead by Goodspeed’s resident music director Adam Souza, performs the remarkable orchestrations, by Doug Besterman, beautifully. The score is demanding, but the musicians don’t let us see them sweat. As much as I’m gushing, I would recommend shifting the show to one hour earlier and give it a little trim. Not a haircutter’s inch, but a discreet tidy-up. As it turns out, I was in slight agreement with the obnoxious subscribers behind me, who disrupted a precious moment to voice their complaints, “This is two hours and forty minutes? Way too long!” I nearly turned to fisticuffs in defense of this phenomenal cast, but chose to deliver an icy, yet effective, glare. I digress, but Goodspeed subscribers are truly spoiled with top-rate performers straight from the Broadway stage. In any case, we could use a couple more developmental scenes to fully flesh out the plot, and I’d be willing to sacrifice by shaving a bit off some of the longer dance numbers (“Everybody Step” and “Dig For Your Dinner”) and songs. (Not too much! Just an inch! And don’t dare recast any characters!)

That isn’t to say that the dance performances weren’t epic: Summer Stock has the best dancing I have ever seen, hands down. The virtuosic ensemble, lovingly called “city mice”, perfectly deliver wildly acrobatic displays all with impossibly high-energy and make it look easy. Director and choreographer, Donna Feore, has made an unforgettable, magnificent Goodspeed debut. Feore makes use of every inch of the stage, making it feel larger than life, and her attention to detail is unsurpassed. The choreography is out of this world! Wilson Chin, scenic designer, set the stage beautifully. The Technicolor New England farm-turned-theater is framed with classic red-sided barn, delicate florals climbing the walls, and hurricane lanterns lovingly displayed as accent pieces. Summer Stock is Goodspeed’s best original production ever. The 12, which opens next, has very big shoes to fill. Summer Stock has its eyes set on Broadway. Does Summer Stock deserve a Broadway run? Absolutely. In this critic’s opinion, it couldn’t get there soon enough. Perhaps my favorite aspect of the production were the many comedic theater flourishes. Broadway audiences will cry with laughter when they watch the city mice (actors) learn how to play the part of farmhands: “What is the farmer’s motivation?” “E-I, E-I!” Frankly, I want an original cast album yesterday. Finally, when it opens on Broadway, you’ll wish you had seen it at The Goodspeed first.

#this is the full text; the Breaks in [indented format] are from organic ones for ads & stuff on the sitepage #since the way formatting works now has an unbroken [indented text] line as One Block even if there's line breaks & Character Limit applies #fixed up a few name typos i caught....reminds me that i did check goodspeed's site again & someone Did correct ''will reynolds'' lmao #shoutout to not only this review mentioning gilbert / phil but also effectively mentioning the phil / orville duo i know is real & true #also i love that gloria is in the chorus now and not the lead....seems fitting & that eliminates [jane must take gloria's role]#and suggests that mayhaps jane's role is wholly created by/for her which also seems more apropos; thematically anyways lol #i agree re: the charm of calling the ensemble dancers / roles the city mice lol #feel free to have spoiled more plot...loving the Reviewer's feistiness also fr. the fisticuffs & effective icy glares. hooting & hollering #everyone agrees on unshocking points like ''could use a lil polish / honing / tightening up sure'' & ''fewer songs maybe''#here like ''shorter dance sequences a couple of times maybe''....also do recall via that cheri steinkellner interview i quoted #(in a separate post weeks back) that she mentioned her experience in tv serving the need to Write Fast #heard similarly before re: other ppl who worked in tv production then wrangling Shorter Than Usual development periods in other mediums #call that other media....also sure does seem like they can do another run of this show in nyc #between (a) being like ''yeah we want to'' & (b) corbin bleu is there (& others; incl ppl who've been on bway) & (c) nyt critic's pick....#summer stock #will roland #orville wingate #(p.s. i don't get the ''what is a farmer's motivation'' ''e i e i'' lol i get One ref & feel i am missing another theatre related one)

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nasa · 10 months

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Of course Saturn brought its ring light.

On June 25, 2023, our James Webb Space Telescope made its first near-infrared observations of Saturn. The planet itself appears extremely dark at this infrared wavelength, since methane gas absorbs almost all the sunlight falling on the atmosphere. The icy rings, however, stay relatively bright, leading to Saturn’s unusual appearance in this image.

This new image of Saturn clearly shows details within the planet’s ring system, several of the planet’s moons (Dione, Enceladus, and Tethys), and even Saturn’s atmosphere in surprising and unexpected detail.

These observations from Webb are just a hint at what this observatory will add to Saturn’s story in the coming years as the science team delves deep into the data to prepare peer-reviewed results.

Download the full-resolution image, both labeled and unlabeled, from the Space Telescope Science Institute.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #Saturn #James Webb Space Telescope #spaceblr #glow #planet #space #JWST #planets #universe #astroblr

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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Four-Info:you and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, ANGST ANGST ANGST, Kissing, Childhood Trauma, Slight!GunPlay(very slight), More Angst, Sadism, Slight Emotional Manipulation.

Find the rest of the chapters HERE.

Your fingers glided gently across the pages of your open book, tracing the lines of text as if seeking to absorb the knowledge directly into your skin. The ambient hush of the library enveloped you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional murmur of voices in the distance. It was a haven of tranquility, a sanctuary where you could finally turn your thoughts off and allow yourself to get lost within the words of the text.

In this cocoon of silence, you immersed yourself, your eyes traversing the lines on the page with a voracious hunger for understanding. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of old parchment and the subtle aroma of polished wood, creating a sensory symphony that enhanced your focus. But amidst this serenity, an abrupt disruption shattered your concentration. The creak of a chair being pulled out and the faint sound of footsteps approached, heralding an unexpected presence.

Startled, your eyes lifted from the text to find Mattheo seated across from you--his dark, penetrating gaze drilled into yours, his eyes narrowed with a glaring suspicion as he analyzed your features, slowly and cautiously--not daring to speak. The sudden intrusion in such a public setting caught you off guard; a mix of surprise and unease filling your lungs as you blinked, glancing around the room to ensure no attention had been drawn.

It had been two days since the events in the bathroom, two whole days where the conversations were as bland as a piece of raw fucking chicken, and yet, here he was. Without warning. You had no fucking clue what he was doing here, but the look in his eyes told you it wasn't for any particularly pleasant reason.

"When were you planning on informing me about your little friend's new companion, hm?" His voice sliced through the air like a blade, his eyes narrowing with sadism. "I mean...I just happened to stumble upon her leaving my brother's dorm, and I'd highly fucking doubt she was there for a casual browse through his book collection, wouldn't you agree?"

Your eyes widened in shock, nerves flooding through you like an icy tide, freezing your words in your throat. You had been meaning to tell him, but since the two of you had hardly been speaking, it seemingly slipped your mind.

You glanced around the room, as if searching for an escape from the intensity of his gaze, before finally managing to whisper, "Are you fucking serious right now? Why is that any bloody concern of yours?"

"I just find it utterly fascinating," he sneered, his voice dripping with dangerous intent as he leaned over the table, scuffing his chair toward you. "...the intricate web of secrets you weave, Raven...not very Ravenclaw of you, now is it?"

"How is that a secret?" you hissed, your voice laced with both irritation and trepidation. "And why would I care about Emily getting with Tom? I never had any feelings for-"

"Not talking about that," he interrupted, his tone sharp as he cut through your words. "I'm talking about everything, in a far more broad context...all of the willing little lies and deceit...all the ways you've used me, just as much, if not more, than I've used you...you even managed to outwit Tom, which is one hell of an impressive accomplishment all on its own, I'll give you that."

The oxygen in the room vanished, leaving you nearly gasping for breath. "I...outwit Tom?"

"Well, it was only thanks to his blaring review that you landed this mentorship, was it fucking not?..." he scanned your features, his brows pinching in focus. "Every calculated step you've taken, every deceptive move you've made, all orchestrated to extract what you wanted for your bloody career...it truly makes a man wonder..."

His words struck like a cold breeze, sending a chill down your spine as you struggled to process the weight of his insinuations--you were beyond startled by the pace of this conversation, each syllable from his lips landing like a punch to the gut, rendering your mouth mute.

"I..." his words had you reeling, your voice catching in your throat, your confidence shattered by his unsettling revelation. "What the hell are you implying, Mattheo?"

Your throat tightened as you struggled to maintain composure. Swallowing hard, you tried to play it off, squinting at him in an attempt to mask your anxiety. But his penetrating gaze saw through your facades, leaving you defenseless against his piercing scrutiny. Mattheo's movements were deliberate, each shift in his chair calculated to exude an air of intimidation and control. His eyes, sharp and predatory, followed your every reaction as if he were studying his prey before a calculated strike.

"I did some digging on you last night...on your background...what your parents do...since, you know, you clearly had no interest in telling me yourself..." a sinister smile played on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic satisfaction. His voice lowered to a barely audible murmur, laced with a sense of superiority. "After the night at the lake, after that little spat we had...I just...I just couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to you than met the eye...and boy was I ever fucking right.”

Letting his words sink in, he leaned back in his chair, that sickening grin still plastered across his face. As the realization of his words settled like a heavy stone in your chest, you grew increasingly uncomfortable, acutely aware of the other students nearby. Their presence, though not directly involved, added a layer of unease to the situation.

Leaning across the table, you whispered urgently, "Do you have to do this here?" The words escaped your lips in a hushed plea, your voice strained with the need for privacy and a shred of dignity. "Like at least-"

Mattheo's response was chillingly calm, his grin widening with malicious delight.

"Oh, princess, come on," he purred, his tone a twisted mockery of sweetness. "Why continue to hide the truth? Let them hear what kind of person you really are..."

Your anger surged, the intensity of your emotions making your fingers grip the book tightly as you leaned in closer to him.

"You're a despicable asshole, you know that?" you spat out, your voice edged with pure disdain. "What's your bloody angle here?"

"Never claimed otherwise, did I?" His tone was flat, devoid of any remorse; meeting your words with an infuriating calmness. "Unlike you, I don't pretend to be something I'm not."

Your eyes rolled so forcefully it felt like you were glimpsing the inside of your skull, a groan of frustration clawing at your throat. Of course, he chose this moment--a place where you had to hold back your torrent of emotions, where you couldn't unleash the full force of your anger upon him. He knew exactly what he was bloody doing here, and it was fucking infuriating.

"Enough with the games, Riddle," you snapped, the words escaping through clenched teeth, your patience stretched to its limit. "Stop being a bloody arse and spit it out already."

"Your family history," he said, leaning in so close that your eyes locked in a battle of wills, each glance a dagger threatening to pierce the other's resolve. "It isn't as pristine as one might think...in fact, I'd almost be inclined to say it's the complete fucking opposite."

Your entire body tensed, coiling like a tightly wound spring. There was a pause as you studied his face, trying to decipher exactly what he knew before responding.

"Careful, Mattheo," you retorted, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Just because you've unearthed a few skeletons doesn't mean you've cleared the whole closet."

"Honestly, Raven, I'm just curious," his grin stretched wider, the atmosphere around him growing denser with an almost palpable tension. "How did you manage to play the part for so long? You certainly had me fooled...even managed to trick the sorting hat into believing your little fucking charade...it's quite impressive, truthfully..."

A knot tightened in the pit of your stomach, every nerve inside you screaming in turmoil. "I...I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Don't even bother," Mattheo's words cut through your feeble denial, and he tilted his head, his intensity thickening the air around you. "I see right fucking through you, now, princess...that innocent act won't work on me anymore..."

His eyes, like burning coals, seared into your skin as if trying to uncover hidden truths. The room seemed to close in around you, amplifying the weight of his accusation.

"Generation after generation of Pureblood fucking Slytherins..." he continued, his voice low and laced with feign exasperation. "And yet, here you are...apparently as Ravenclaw as they come...you've managed to make yourself so damn-near invisible that no one even fucking noticed..."

Your breath hitched, caught in the vice grip of his merciless scrutiny. The truth of his words hung heavily in the air, a damning revelation that sent a shiver down your spine. Your carefully constructed facade, your shield against the world, was crumbling, and Mattheo had managed to find the cracks, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in his piercing gaze.

"I'll admit, I feel rather idiotic for not piecing it together sooner..." he sneered, his tone cutting through the tension like a knife, hands curling into fists atop of the desk. "I guess I was too entranced by your starry-eyed facade to see the cunning Slytherin hiding beneath, even though it was right in front of my face this whole time...your biting sarcasm, your unrelenting ambition, and your overly-eager knack for deceit--classic fucking Slytherin traits, aren't they, Raven?"

Your entire being blazed with a searing heat, a tempest of conflicting emotions threatening to consume you. The urge to throttle him until he fell silent warred with a fierce desire to pull him close and lose yourself in a breathless kiss. How infuriating it was to witness his sharp wit, a talent he wielded effortlessly, yet one he seemed unwilling to apply to his fucking studies.

At your silence, he huffed, glimpsing your lips again. "Not even the stars can change the essence of who you are, princess." He whispered, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Maybe it's about time you were honest with yourself."

Your anger surged like a tidal wave, crashing against the shores of your restraint. In that charged moment, you leaned in closer, as close as you possibly could, your body practically vibrating with intensity. How dare he sit there, smug and superior, acting like he had unraveled the very fabric of your being just because he had dug up a few skeletons from your family's closet?

Sure, your parents weren't paragons of virtue, but their actions don't define you--and that was the very the essence of all this. Every choice you've made, every hardship you've endured, has been a deliberate effort to distance yourself from their toxic legacy. His derisive remarks only fueled the fire, and you practically hurled the words at him, your voice laden with disdain.

"You don't know a single fucking thing about me," you seethed, "all you fucking know is what the inside of my body feels like...don't you dare sit there and act like you've got me all figured out."

Your steps were purposeful as you pushed up and away from the table, leaving him sitting there, his words lingering in the air like a bitter aftertaste. You moved back into the library, the familiar scent of old books surrounding you like a protective barrier, but you knew it wouldn't shield you from the storm that was Mattheo bloody Riddle for long. No, that would be far too fucking easy.

And nothing about your situation with that boy was easy.

As you put your book back on the shelf, you felt his presence behind you, a suffocating weight pressing down on your shoulders as you reluctantly spun back around to face him.

"Why'd you do it, huh?" Mattheo's voice cut through the air like a razor, his narrowed eyes fixed on you as he backed you up against the shelf, his presence overwhelming. "Are you truly that ashamed of who you fucking are?"

"Mattheo," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, the frustration boiling inside you. "Please, don't push it...if I wanted to tell you about that, I would have..."

"Yeah, you're ashamed," he sneered, dismissing your words with a cynical laugh, confirming his original point. "You're ashamed of where you come from...fuck, I always knew we were alike, but I never knew it'd be this much-"

"What the fuck is this? Some type of elaborate power-play move? Some type of big intimidation act to get me to tell you about my life?..." you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. "If you wanted to know, why didn't you just ask me? Instead of fucking me every chance you got why didn't you try having a real conversation with me? Try actually opening up to me for once?"

"Even if I did..." he said, dropping his tone into a low whisper. "Would you have told me? You said it yourself that you don't fucking trust me..."

"What do you want to know, Riddle? Huh? You want me to tell you how I grew up in a mansion full of emptiness? How my parents were never around and I was left with my cold, reserved grandmother, who cared more about her fucking butler than me?...or maybe you want to know about how I was raised in a world of expectations, forced to be perfect in every way imaginable, while my parents only bothered to acknowledge my existence when it served their social ambitions..."

You paused, frowning at him, your features a near scowl. "You're sure quick to call me a rich little princess...and sure, maybe you're right, maybe I had all the material things one could ever desire...but it was never enough, could never be enough. Something was always missing, like a void inside me that nothing would ever fucking fill."

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you continued, the weight of your past bearing down on you. "When my grandmother got sick, it was the only time she actually fucking spoke to me. She told me to be different, to break free from the mold that had plagued my family for decades. I was there with her in her final moments, the first and only fucking time she ever said she loved me. And where were my parents? Absent, as always. They didn't even show up until days after her death, showering me with gifts, as if their mere presence could make up for years of neglect..."

In an unrelenting torrent, words cascaded from your lips, each syllable carrying the burden of years' worth of pent-up emotions. Mattheo's unwavering gaze never strayed, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, absorbing every uttered syllable as though he never anticipated such revelations.

"Sure, maybe I was handed whatever I wanted on a silver fucking platter--but I was always alone, and truthfully, that's how I fucking preferred it. I never believed in destiny, Mattheo...the stars never whispered my name, my future...I had to shape my own path, I had to become something of my own...once my grandma passed, I was left with the butler. My parents didn't care about what I did as long as my grades were to their standards. They had no idea I wasn't in Slytherin until my third fucking year..."

You paused, your eyes catching Mattheo's parted lips, a reflection of sheer astonishment. Despite fighting to maintain composure, your voice softened with each breath, your heart pounding in your throat.

"I had to grab my own fate with two hungry hands, pulling and pushing and molding my life into something I could be fucking proud of...and then you came along, with your smart mouth and your fucking effortless charm...and you just...you forced your way right into my bloody heart, tore down my walls like you fucking belonged there." The bitterness in your voice hung in the air, the pain of your past etched into every word, your chest heaving with emotion as Mattheo stood in front of you, speechless. "Yes, I've made mistakes, but they belong entirely to me...and thats precisely what sets us apart, you went through some shit and let it possess you...I chose to fight back."

Trembling fingers betrayed the turmoil within, your entire body quivering in the aftermath of the verbal storm you'd just unleashed upon Mattheo. Only when the deafening silence enveloped you did the weight of your words become palpable.

Unable to endure the silence any longer, you broke eye contact, running a trembling hand through your hair. "I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to trauma dump on you like that, I just-"

"No," he declared, "don't you dare apologize to me...I should be the one apologizing to you."

Mattheo's interruption sliced through the charged air, his voice emerging rasped and strained, as though he had withheld words for years. Swallowing, you met his intense gaze, attempting to decipher the kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within his eyes.

"Don't pity me, Mattheo...I'm well past needing that," you whispered, your figure leaning subtly against the bookshelf, a tangible weariness emanating from your being. "Everything you've ever said was right...two sides of the same coin, the masks, the fact that we're each haunted by our own ghosts. You've always been fucking right. The only misstep was when you claimed you'd be my ruin."

Mattheo arched an eyebrow, bridging the distance between you with a measured step. "And why is that?"

"Because, little did you know, I was already in ruins," you murmured, reaching out to loop your fingers around his belt, pulling him closer. "If anything, you've been my bloody salvation...you did something I wasn't sure I was capable of anymore--you made me feel."

A tangible tension hung in the air as Mattheo's hands gripped your hips with a silent urgency, a fervent plea for your presence.

"As if you're going to fucking say that," he countered, his grip conveying unspoken desires. "As if that's not precisely what you did to me."

"Yeah?" you smirked, your voice a sultry whisper. "And what do I make you feel?"

"Everything, Raven," he cooed, lips grazing sensually over your jawline. "Hate, desire, anger, lust...among other things."

Your breath hitched, suspended in the charged exchange. "Among other--"

Before you could finish, Mattheo cut you off, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing kiss, a palpable surge of desire that eclipsed the need for spoken words. He pressed you against the bookshelf, the wooden solidity of the shelves meeting your back. His hands, with a journey of their own, glided up your sides, their warmth leaving a trail of anticipation. They found their destination on your face, gently cupping it with a possessiveness that made your heart flutter, and you sighed into his mouth, letting your hands rest at his sides.

"Everything about you is so fucking addictive..." Mattheo's confession hung in the air, a declaration punctuated by the heat of his lips tracing a fervent path along your jaw. His hand, a serpentine caress, slithered down your arm, leaving a tingling trail of warmth in its wake. "You are both hellfire and holy water...soft yet strong...and every bloody time I touch you I feel a little less war-torn, like your chaos balances out mine...I just...I have no idea what peace feels like Raven, but I have to imagine it feels a lot like you..."

"Mm...fuck, I've missed you..." a soft sigh escaped your lips as his kisses descended, exploring the landscape of your neck. Your fingers instinctively tightened their grip on his shirt. "Whatever happened to that break you said you wanted..."

"Fuck the break," he growled, desire lacing his voice. His hand ventured boldly behind your head, the other finding a home on your hip, possessive and hungry. "I want you so fucking bad...I want to fuck you right here...right against this fucking shelf...cover your filthy little mouth so no one can hear you fucking moaning for me..."

"Shit..." you mewled, gasping slightly as his hand slid around to grip your ass. "Maybe...if two people can't seem to stay the fuck away from eachother, they aren't meant to be apart, hm?"

"Maybe you're right..." Mattheo purred, nipping at your earlobe as he pressed you back against the shelf. "I've always been a strong man, Raven...but you break me without effort...you are my weakness, the chink in my fucking armour..."

"Your undoing?" you murmured, your fingers tracing over his belt.

He hummed. "Precisely."

"When are you going to open up to me, Mattheo?" You whispered, your voice a fragile murmur as though you were afraid of the answer, slipping your fingers under his belt now, gliding along its path. "Tell me all the bad things you've done...tell me what made you into the weapon you are...you don't need to be afraid...I saw your darkness from the very beginning and I'm still fucking here, aren't I?..."

"Why?" His grip tightened, breath hitching. "Why didn't you run?"

Your lids fluttered, slowly losing yourself in the warmth of his breath against your neck. His scent enveloped you; a familiar, soothing balm to the ache he'd caused with his recent request for a break. The answer formed easily in your heart, though voicing it required vulnerability, more than you'd ever expected to give.

"Because...it was a reflection of mine."

Mattheo's only response was a deep growl that rumbled through the charged space, a primal sound that resonated with desire. Without hesitation, he pulled you back into a hungry kiss, his body pulsating with pent-up energy seeking release. The intensity of the kiss mirrored the raw hunger between you, a magnetic force that defied all notions of any further separation.

As your fingers continued their exploration along his belt, tracing the contours with a teasing caress, you encountered an unexpected sensation--cold, unyielding metal tucked between the leather and his abdomen, its texture rough, and harsh. A chill ran down your spine as confusion slowly crept over you, your eyes fluttering open in slow, tentative blinks, fingers seemingly frozen in place.

Mattheo, lost in the heat of the moment, seemed oblivious to your sudden unease. The kiss deepened, his hunger transferring into the fervency of the embrace. But your focus had shifted, and your trembling fingers tentatively confirmed the nature of the cold object--something metallic, something that should not be there. You gently pulled away from the kiss, your eyes wide with realization, fixated on the metal object now halfway exposed. Dread tightened your chest as your brows pinched, flicking back up to meet his eyes.

"Mattheo," you whispered, the name carrying a weight of urgency, "what is this?"

Mattheo's swallow echoed in the charged silence, his gaze dropping to your hand, his chest still heaving from the passionate kiss. His eyes widened as the weight of your question settled in, a realization dawning on him, as if he had momentarily forgotten about the object concealed within his belt.

"Raven, I-"

He began, but you interrupted, yanking your hand back. "No-what the fuck-"

"Stop," Mattheo commanded, his tone abruptly taking on a harsh edge. With deliberate movements, he pulled up his shirt slightly, revealing more of the mysterious object nestled between his belt. The revelation hung in the air, and Mattheo, eyes now serious, asked a question that carried the weight of the moment: "Do you trust me, Raven?"

Your eyes squinted as a realization crashed over you, the rhythm of your heart shifting into a turbulent drumbeat within your chest. There was absolutely no denying it--that sleek, ominous silhouette spoke volumes. That was a fucking gun.

Frozen in a surreal disbelief, your ability to think, blink, or move was momentarily hijacked. Mattheo's hand surged upward with a suddenness that matched the shock in your eyes, seizing your jaw with a commanding force. His fingers, both firm and urgent, redirected your gaze, forcing you back to the depth of his eyes, which were now darker than the midnight sky.

"Answer me," he demanded, the intensity of his words amplified by the gravity of the situation. "Do you fucking trust me?"

The weight of the question echoed in the charged air. Your mind spun, grappling with the incredulity of the scene unfolding before you. Firearms had been a distant memory, relegated to hunting trips with a Muggle friend back in middle school. Yet, the stark reality of Mattheo possessing a fucking handgun in the heart of Hogwarts shattered any remnants of normalcy, the shockwaves reverberating through your very core.

"I-I-" you stammered.

Mattheo jostled your head in his grip, pulling you closer. "Yes or no question, Raven."

Blinking, you found yourself caught in a tempest of conflicting emotions. The tendrils of trust warred with the unsettling presence of the gun, a contradiction that defied all reason. In the throbbing silence, Mattheo's growl of frustration pierced the air. Relinquishing his grip on your jaw, he seized your wrist, directing it back toward the ominous weapon.

"Take it out," he commanded, his eyes fixed on yours. "Right now, Raven. Take it."

A whimper escaped you, your fingers trembling as they tentatively wrapped around the cold metal. With visible reluctance, you extended it out, pointing the gun down at the floor. Mattheo's grip on your wrist persisted, unyielding, anchoring you in the unsettling reality of the moment.

"I'll ask you one more fucking time," he whispered harshly, the words slicing through the charged air like a razor. His breath, warm against your face, carried an unsettling contrast to the gravity of his demand. "Do you trust me?"

Another desperate whimper slipped past your lips, the nodding of your head an almost frantic plea. "Yes! Please, I trust you. Just take it back-"

Mattheo's reply erupted as a snarl, a guttural growl that echoed with a feral intensity. His features, twisted by a crazed possession, accentuated the mad determination in his eyes as he tightened his grip on your wrist. With an unhinged sense of purpose, he directed it upward, the cold barrel now pressing menacingly against his own temple.

"Pull it," he said stoically, the eerie calmness chilling against the tension. "Pull the trigger."

Your jaw dropped, the brimming tears reflecting the disbelief that swirled in your eyes. "No! What the fu-"

"Do it," he repeated, the calmness persisting. "Go on, baby, pull it."

Sickened and paralyzed by the surreal horror of the moment, you hesitated, the sheer shock of what Mattheo was asking you to do anchoring you in a moment of profound disbelief. Your mind swarmed with recollections of the crazy things you'd done for him before, but this--this was unlike anything you had ever fucking imagined. The weight of the gun in your hand, the gravity of the situation, left your brain reeling as the stark realization of the moment seized hold of your senses.

His frustration, palpable and charged, manifested in another growl. With a menacing determination, he shifted his hand to envelop yours, forcing your finger down, the pressure on the trigger unrelenting.

You heard the click, you felt the click--and yet, nothing happened.

"Fuck..." you choked out, a turbulent blend of relief and confusion seizing your senses in a tumultuous embrace. "What the fuck..."

He blinked, his dark eyes tracing over your lips as he clicked it again. And again. The ensuing silence, pregnant with the surreal gravity of the situation, echoed through the seemingly empty library. Each breath you exhaled became a struggle, the air tinged with the weight of the inexplicable moment, your senses teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

Then, like a tidal wave crashing over you, the realization struck with breathtaking force. "It's enchanted..."

"About fucking time you caught on." Mattheo nodded, his acknowledgement cutting through the charged air with terse confirmation. He released the hold on your hand, pulling the gun away and casually slipping it back under his belt. "This gun only serves one purpose Raven, and it's never to kill, only to protect..."

Your heart leapt. "Protect what?"

"Doesn't matter," he said, a gentle hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes. “You can trust me, Raven…you can always fucking trust me…”

You exhaled, a long, exasperated breath. “I know, Mattheo…”

“Good girl,” he cooed, a smirk playing on his lips as he stoically reached into his back pocket, as if on a quest for something. "Has Nott popped the question yet?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Yes.."

"Good," he replied, his other hand securing your wrist before he withdrew his busy one, placing a handful of Galleons in your outstretched palm. "Go treat yourself to a dress. Something red, something tight."

As he withdrew his hand, he leaned in, placing a hot, wet kiss on your cheek, smirking from ear to ear as he said. "I've got something I have to do tonight, so I can't stay...but I look forward to respectfully ripping off whichever lovely dress you decide on."

"Respectfully?" you quipped, a playful glint in your eyes. "I'll make sure to pick a dress that demands nothing less than the most dignified removal, then."

"Oh, Raven...I can promise you it'll be the furthest thing from dignified." He snickered, wetting his lips as he took a few steps back, slowly beginning to make his retreat. "See you then."

As he spun around, making his exit, your mind followed suit, a whirlwind of emotions from this entire encounter. Only Mattheo Riddle could master the art of rendering you utterly anxious, furious, emotional, aroused, terrified, and, finally, relieved--all within the span of under an hour. You'd never encountered a man who expertly navigated every one of your buttons and boundaries like he did, yet you couldn't deny the potent influence he held over you.

You couldn't deny that as soon as he left, an insatiable longing for his presence consumed you, an undeniable yearning for his return.

—————————

Chapter 25->

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moonsaver · 2 months

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You've had the unfortunate privilege of being on the recieving end of Sunday's influence.

He's no ordinary man, at least by status. Penacony, although now a huge tourism spot, had it's plethora of secrets, and The Family seeks to keep it as just that. With secrets comes trouble, and with trouble comes opportunity. Sunday is a man who seizes it when he has the chance.

And you suppose his nature has rubbed off on you. The moment a flicker of freedom sparked before you, you didn't hesitate to seize your opportunity, grabbing tightly, and running into it headfirst.

The fact you've made it this far surprises even you, as your legs ache from the sheer amount of distance you've had to cover on land, the splinters and cuts on your feet burning as you drag yourself as far away as you can, hop planet to plant if you must, to escape Sunday at all costs.

Of course.. you haven't been in the best physical condition ever since you decided freedom was worth it. Hair messy, fingers bruised, and your lips bloodied as you gnawed on them continuously from the sheer dread and fear. You've managed to make it on Belobog's icy cold planet that's only starting to warm up, and to your dismay, the snow only worsens just how bad your splinters and cuts hurt.

It's not long before you make it to the city. You go through a lengthy procedure and are finally taken in, provided for and hidden under wraps by your own request. You suppose the silver-haired girl didn't need much convincing from the long struggles your body seems to have endured.

However, word reaches fast.

Its also not long before there's representatives and ambassadors sent from different branches of the Families in Penacony, and a few unfamiliar names. Your ears stay close to the wall as you try to make out their words.

It seems Sunday has chosen to brand you as a dangerous, wanted criminal instead of his lover. But perhaps you'd prefer that?

And the countless visits put a strain on legal relations. The silver-haired girl has to let up with resignation, and informs you Belobog cannot house you. Not anymore.

However, even in your desperate, anxious state, you can clearly tell Sunday was desperate. It seems he's managed to rope the IPC into it aswell, given the talkative, sly blonde man who keeps droning on about how excited he is to help Sunday out as a favor. You get the impression he's not keen on really making friends, but rather debts.

As for Sunday.. he hasn't heard from you in a few weeks. It's been your longest time missing, evidently. He sighs grimly as he reviews reports, clearly fabricated. The last time you really were seen after the expedition of that retrieval group, was with none other than Aventurine.

That peacock just loves seizing his opportunity, doesn't he?

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miasmaghoul · 2 months

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Here, have some soft dewther emotional hurt/comfort for reasons that do not at all reflect anything about my current mental state no siree👍

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It's past midnight when Aether flops onto the common room sofa, exhausted from back to back shifts in the infirmary. It's a night he wishes that his own quintessence would work on himself, that he could wick away the ache in his back and the searing heat behind his eyes. He'd dragged himself here in search of food - Aether can't remember the last thing he ate, or when - but the sight of the couch had forced him to redirect.

So here he sits, alone in the dark common room, staring out the massive windows flanking the fireplace and watching the stars twinkle. He knows he should get up, should find something to put in his stomach so he can at least try to sleep, but his legs weigh a thousand pounds each and the thought of moving is enough to have Aether groaning into the silence surrounding him.

He wishes he were like Rain, like Swiss. That he could just close his eyes and be on his way to dreamland. That he didn't have to deal with the storm in his head, the revolving door of tasks to be done on his next shift. Reviewing the cases he'd handled today; there had been a flu outbreak in the human wing, and Aether stretches his hands while he thinks of every fever he'd soothed, every cough he'd calmed, every bit of suffering he'd pulled from those fragile bodies and let sink into himself.

Ghouls may not be susceptible to human illness, but the power it takes to heal them always leaves him feeling ill. Empty. Hollow.

Aether cracks his knuckles as the memory of one particular Sibling crosses his mind - a young girl, no more than twenty. Pale and shivering, hacking up a lung into the sleeve of her habit while she curled up in the corner of the waiting area. She was the only one who has arrived at the infirmary alone, a newly anointed Sister of Sin who hadn't found her footing yet. Hadn't found her family yet.

Her pain had been some of the worst for Aether to handle. Not because she was sick, there were other Siblings in far worse condition, but because she was alone. Aether could feel it in his bones the moment he touched her hand. An icy wave of anxiety and regret that had washed over every part of him, an ache even Aether couldn't soothe.

It would pass, he'd assured her. Everyone goes through this - the fear, the loneliness, the feeling that you've made a huge mistake by abandoning everything you knew and loved in the name of something new. Something better. Because there are expectations, assumptions, promises made that paint the church in an ideal, rose-colored light that draws in those eager for a place to belong.

It would pass, he'd assured her. It always does. She would find her routine, find Brothers and Sisters eager to take her under their wing. Find comfort in their Papa's sermons, in prayer and worship, as they all do. Eventually, everything would fall into place. She just needed to give it time. To let it happen.

She'd looked much better once her treatment was complete, had thanked him with a hug he could still feel untold hours later, and Aether was glad to see it. Truly.

But that cold pit of loneliness had stuck around long after she'd left the infirmary, a whirlpool of despair still swirling around in his chest. It's happened a few times before, when he's drained like this, but it's unpleasant all the same. Sore, almost. Like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper with every beat.

He should just go to bed. Make his legs work and drag himself down the impossible distance of the hall. Should collapse into his own bed and try to ignore the chill, the ache, the pounding in his head. He'd get to sleep eventually, right? It would be better than this - at least he'd be laying down. He should at least try.

The kitchen light flips on behind him, and Aether's too tired to jolt.

"Aeth?" A sleep-thick voice creeps into his ears, familiar, and Aether's shoulders sag. "What're you doin' in here?"

The soft patter of bare feet follows, and Aether sighs when their owner comes into view.

"Hey, Dew."

"Hey yourself," the little ghoul mumbles, rubbing at tired eyes. He's dressed in one of Aether's beat-up old shirts and a pair of sunflower printed pajama pants that undoubtedly belong to Sunshine. "I could smell you from my room," he says through a yawn, and Aether cringes. "D'you just get back?"

"Yeah," Aether rasps, working immediately to get his scent under control. It's something he always struggles with on nights like this. "Long day."

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his neck, and Dew frowns.

"Looks like more than that." Aether hugs himself a little tighter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Aether huffs, the guilt of having woken Dewdrop enough to have that thorn sinking in further. "Go back to bed, love, I'm fine."

"Pfft," Dew waves a hand, dismissive, "how many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Aether groans, tosses his glasses to the side to dig the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He hears Dew's tail thump against the area rug, obvious concern that he must be too tired to hide.

"I just...it was a long day," Aether sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. "I'll be fine, I'm just...just tired, that's all."

Warm, bony hands come to rest on his shoulders, and it takes everything Aether has not to whimper at how good that simple touch feels.

"Aether," Dew says, low, "look at me."

He doesn't want to. Knows he too exhausted to hide the way the void in his chest will have darkened his eyes, brought out every line on his face. He knows that if he does, Dew will see the hurt. Hurt that isn't his problem, isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job.

"C'mon, Aeth," the little ghoul encourages, one hand leaving a shoulder to glide through Aether's thick, unruly hair. Aether does whimper then, can't help it, but silently prays Dew doesn't hear it. "Please?"

There's something so sincere in that one word that Aether can't deny him. He heaves a mighty sigh, leans back into the couch and begrudgingly lets Dew see.

Those copper eyes bore into him like white hot fire, and it only takes two breaths for Dew to understand.

"Oh, Aether," he breathes, cupping his worn face in those incredible hands. Aether sinks into the touch, something he can't quite name caught in the back of his throat. "What can I do?"

Nothing. Everything. Aether has no idea, too scattered and distracted by the icy claws scratching at his rib cage to do more than shake his head and flex his fingers. Dew won't break his gaze, looking down at him with concern knitting his brow and his mouth turned down at the corners. He brings his own hands up to hold Dew's wrists, overcome by the need for...for...

"Could you just -" a hiccup, one he can't help, "just...remind me I'm not alone?"

The words are miserable to say, a request he feels stupid for making and regrets instantly. Wishes he could take them back the second they pass his lips, a flush of embarrassment rushing up his throat when Dew tips his head. When a lock of golden hair that had slipped from his bun floats across his forehead, those gorgeous eyes gone soft around the edges.

But he doesn't have time to take them back, because Dew's already moving. Gently shaking off Aether's trembling grip and moving to straddle him on the couch. Skinny thighs bracketing his own while Dew settles in, leaning forward to get his arms under Aether's wrinkled white coat, looping them around his waist. Scooching closer until they're chest to chest, no more than their clothes to separate them, and then Dew's resting his head on Aether's shoulder.

"Don't worry, starlight," he lilts, soft as Aether's ever heard him. Dew kisses his neck, no more than a chaste peck. "'S long as I'm around, you never have to be alone."

The little ghoul starts to purr, his unnatural heat seeping into Aether's whole being, and Aether shudders. Wraps him up in strong arms and holds on tight, breathing in cedar and burnt cinnamon. Something so distinctly Dew that it overrides the mess in his head, in his heart, and as it does Aether can do nothing but believe him.

"Thank you, firefly," he huffs, voice thready. Something Dew would normally tease him for, but not tonight. He nuzzles closer, and Aether lets his cheek rest against the little ghoul's head. "Thank you."

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether/dew #aether x dew #aethdew #dewther #hurt/comfort #dont mind me self soothing via ghouls lmao lmao #not rereading before i post so if you see mistakes #no you dont

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coryosmin · 2 months

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in the mood to worship president!coryo in his office 🥲🥰i want him to call me the dirtiest shit while i try my best to please him

-🎀anon

giggles

nsfw | mdni | fem!reader x early pres snow | oral (m)

being the presidents wife had many perks. for one, you had such a handsome husband who hated everyone but you. you were rich, you could get anything you wanted. but the best part? worshipping your handsome husband whenever you pleased to do so because he could never say no to his precious wife taking care of him.

so when you visited coryo in his office while he was supposed to be staying in the office late, he knew what you wanted. which led to you on your knees underneath coryo’s desk as he reviewed documents about happenings in the districts with his cock in your mouth.

you bobbed your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to add to coryo’s pleasure. he had one hand on your head while the other held a pen. but his concentration was certainly not on the documents in front of him. “you dirty whore,” he groaned, bucking his hips into your mouth. “visiting me while i’m working all because you want my cock in your mouth? how very whorish of you.”

his dirty words caused you to moan around his length. a response that was practically screaming “yes, sir. love your cock in my mouth so much.”

coryo let out a moan, throwing his head back in pleasure as you continued your movements on his cock. “fuck,” he said, his fingers gripping your hair. “gonna swallow my cum like a slut?” he asked, looking down at you.

you looked up at coryo, meeting his icy gaze as you continued sucking his cock. you hummed in response, as if pretty much begging for his cum. “god you’re such a fucking slut,” he moaned. he began thrusting his hips into your mouth, meeting your mouth each time you went down on his length. “always sucking my cock so good.”

and soon coryo was cumming, shooting his load down your throat as you took it all in. you swallowed each rope, sucking him through his orgasm. and when he finished, you lifted your head, looking up at your wonderful husband. he caressed your hair. “good girl,” he said lovingly. “perhaps i should reward you, hmm?”

you smiled, preening from the praise. you nodded your head. “yes, please,” you said.

coryo let out a soft chuckle, helping you onto his lap. “then let me reward you, baby.”

#minsasks #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #coriolanus snow #thg tbosas #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #🎀 anon #🎀

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lady-ashfade · 2 months

Text

Through My Window. Pt.2

Day 17 of celebration marathon.

-♡Book!older!Percy Jackson x Fem!reader.

-£ this fic was very popular and I have been asked uncountable times to make a part two, some people will be disappointed but I hope I can please some!

-£ Part one.

-£ words: 1.7k

-£ warnings: angst, seeing your ex, crying, reader being rightfully upset, college reader & percy, reconnecting from the past, I had a hard time writing this, so poor writing.

You’d like to say you got over him.

That everything was placed in a box and forgotten and never thought of again. Tragically you couldn’t seem to get percy out of your thoughts. Late at night you’d see him fighting monsters, saw him running for his life, or the past moments you shared. But they were only dreams, and he wasn’t going to come back for you. The college life treated you well enough and even if you couldn’t get him out of your mind the new friends you made helped keep him out from time to time.

You could lied to yourself that the boys you spent time with at parties or your dorm didn’t make you feel special. But they weren’t him and you hated that. Percy was somewhere with someone like him— better for him then you and he was happier. He had it all while you stayed the same girl who longed to feel his love again, to see his smile and brush his hair.

You missed him. Everything about him was stuck in your mind like a constant playing movie on repeat. It was years you both knew each other, he was a friend before anything so your heart wanted him close again. Even though you knew it would sting to glance upon him once more.

Today you had extra time to yourself in between classes so you went off campus to get yourself something to eat. Thankfully the small shop you loved was empty and not overflowing with business. And it was a perfect day to eat outside and review your notes, so you did just that. Sitting underneath a tree at a bench and eating your lunch. It was peaceful. You liked the light breeze on your skin and rustling of the leaves in your ears made you smile.

“You’ve got something in your hair,” he chuckled and pulled out a leaf from your hair making you role you eyes. He smirked at your attitude and leans to press his lips to yours. And you couldn’t stay mad at him after that.

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

Suddenly the breeze made it easier for your spine to feel a shiver as you remembered the feeling of his hand on your cheek. It was like remembering a ghost of your past, making you cold and icy. The last words he ever said to you were him apologizing. It made your skin crawl, he was sorry? Time couldn’t heal you when all he said was “I’m sorry” like it was a simple fix for you. You weren’t enough for him, and you came to terms with that but he lied to you all that time, only to dump you before prom.

Now percy wasn’t happy with himself. He never wanted to leave you, he swore to be by your side even when odds weren’t on his favor and that’s exactly what he didn’t do. He left your side and broke your heart with something that wasn’t true. It was no secret that you were everything to him and he worshipped the ground you walked on. And that’s exactly why he had to leave you, you were his greatest weakness to his enemies. And the lie about annabeth made his head turn with regret and guilt.

But you brought it up and at the time it was a good coverup to make you hate him— which he was right. You did hate him and rightfully so. Each night he went to sleep with you in his mind, and then when he woke he was never left with your voice in his head. Percy knew you probably wouldn’t want him back but he’d never want anyone else. That doesn’t mean he would blame you for moving on, you deserved to be loved and he wanted you happy.

but that was all forgotten when he saw you now. just a perfect as ever.

“Excuse me,” His throat went dry as he approached closer to you. he should have kept walking, leaving you alone because he hurt you.

“Do you had to know anywhere around here that takes golden drachmas?” All the breath in his chest went away when you turned your head to look at him. He knew he missed you but he could cry on his knees right now upon seeing you again but reality reminded him quickly. Your eyes were shocked and wide like he was a monster of some sort only here to hurt you.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss and grab ahold of your notebook to ground yourself. Glancing around the place for any sign of anyone else, her for example. But you saw no sign of the blonde beauty anywhere.

“Honestly, I heard you moved here for college and hoped to run into you,” he spilled and walked closer with his hands sweating. “Which I now believe sounds crazy.” he gives you awkward smile which you don’t return, instead you get up from your seat and pick up your things in a rush. your books starts to fall and papers flying while you groan and try to catch everything. He wanted to help you but you held up your hand to stop him from coming closer.

“I told you,” once you had everything in your bag again you stomped your feet and glare at him, “I never want to see you again.”

Percy remembered those words like they had happened only moments ago. He also remembers the tears rolling down your eyes when you shouted at him to leave. He was haunted each day. What hurt him worse was how you stormed away from him leaving him like a sad puppy…exactly like he left you. But he wasn’t going to leave you thinking any longer that he would choose anyone over you.

“Wait,” he jogged behind you. he knew you heard him when you started to speed up to get away from him. “Please, Baby—” it’s been forever since he called you that and he knew his mistake as soon as he let them slip. You turned quickly with a fire in your eyes that could burn him down to ash with your hatred.

“You have no right to call me that!” Your voice echoes through the air as you point your finger at him. He stopped in his tracks just a few inches before you and his head hung in shame. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

“That’s what I’m here to see you, I never-”

“I don’t care for your reasons or apology— I want you to leave me alone.” And that was the one thing he couldn’t do. Not yet.

“Just give me a chance to explain why I left.” He pleads with begging eyes. You shake your head with no more control over your emotions to say no to him. Tears pool up in your eyes while trying to wave him away from you.

“You left me—even when you promised.” For the first time in a long time he got to feel you but not in the way he dreamed about, but by you hitting his chest. “You said you’d stay by my side no matter what. You said that I was enough.” Even after you continued to hit his chest you sobbed while he watched with tears of his own.

“You promised.” His arms wrapped around your trembling figure and pulled you close and you gave out in the fight and let him. You cried into his chest while he rubbed your back with no care for anything else but you.

“I never stopped loving you. I lied and I am forever sorry to be the cause of your pain but I had to, I’d rather you hate me then watch you die.” you breathe out and pull away from his chest and look at him. he could see the puzzled look at your face. “I lied about being in love with annabeth. I needed you to hate me so you wouldn’t be targeted and-”

“So you’re saying all of it— the constant feeling like I wasn’t enough…was all a lie?” he wanted to deny it but he couldn’t get anything out of his mouth.

Stepping back and throwing his arms off of you, “really? Now that,” you began to laugh and lean over with your hands wrapping around yourself. “is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. I pictured her kiss you, you telling her that you love her- when it wasn’t happening?” it was a mix of crying and laughing now at yourself, even a hint of anger.

“Hunny..” he reached out for you again but you moved out of the way. you whip you eyes of tears and your cheeks with your smile still on your face. It was all too much for you to handle, seeing him again and the him telling you the truth. So your outburst may have seemed crazy but it was natural for your body to be overwhelmed.

“That’s why you came? Go get it off your conscience,” you tilt your head.

“No, I came to tell you the truth…to see you again, make sure you’re happy.” you could tell by his eyes that he meant all the words. A frown on his face and he looked over you like you’d change in seconds again.

“How could I have been happy without you? You’re a idiot,” you confess. again, there was not a day that has gone by without thinking of him. “Massive.” He agreed with you with his own smile creeping on his face. You missed him after everything he did.

“But if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.” His hand grabbed yours slowly incase you wanted to pull away from him but you didn’t. you wrap your fingers around his, moving closer to him.

“You have a lot of making up to do.” it was a peaceful moment between you both as you smile together.

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken him back. Maybe you should have forgive him on the spot. But you knew that he was met to be in your life or he wouldn’t be here now. Slipping through your window with a wide smile into your dorm room and waiting for a hello kiss from you. And he would continue to come to your window until college was over.

“Someones going to catch you coming through my mind.”

taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows @repostingmyfavs

#percy jackson x you #older percy jackson #older percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson x reader #book percy jackson #book percy jackson x reader #percy jackson angst #angst

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nunsongici · 7 months

Note

Your opinion on Loki Season 2 Ep.1?

oh dearest anon (read this as a sigh)

i missed this show so much.. i literally have only good things to say about this first episode!

spoiler and long post warning hehe

First of all - them!!!! So much lokius content😭 Although yes, I'm a little disappointed that we've been robbed of a reunion hug, i forgive them. Because we've been worrying about them never meeting again for years now - of course we expected a huge relief hug, but for Loki, he was only worried for a few minutes. Very stressful few minutes, I must add, but Mobius - I think he knew they would meet again, because THIS MAN- *hits table* The amount of trust he has now in Loki!!! (And in the show's universe they basically just hugged not even long ago, so it's fine...) And on that second thought, it's killing me that we didn't get to know what Loki wanted to tell him. The part of me that can still see clearly says that it's probably something about Sylvie or something sentimental like the fact that he really values him but they probably won't feed our aching hearts:(( Otherwise my thoughts on the whole episode are OH MY GOD THE SET!!! I cannot even articulate how much I love every single detail, in the props, shots, costumes and lighting choices... I'm so happy that there was so much work put into that because it just screams quality. In season one I really didn't like the scenes where the CG scenery was obvious - and not because it's CG but mostly because of the lighting... Let me just add an example

Like... ugh;;; Ravonna's window is in fact a blue screen. (You can see it in the Assembled episode.) Not even the blinds are real. So it's not the CG's fault, it's the lighting and the colour choices for me.

They sticked to this.. 70's.. socialist.. brutalist look and made it even cooler and i'm SO here for it~ My little easter european heart skipping with glee lmao. Like it's so timeless and suspicious and futuristic at the same time, it's so perfect.

I don't understand why they committed to the grainy effect but honestly? It's so slay. And the close up shots???

OMNOMNOM EATING THESE UPPPP So anyways. I'm obsessed and I can't wait to watch the next episode. I already love the shots in McDonald's, loooove Sylvie's new hair, don't really care about the relationship plot because I don't think it's gonna be interesting :/

(I actually liked the fact that they made them "fall in love" but I think in order for it to work, the next step should be realising that their love is platonic. I think it would make sense story-wise, making Loki realise that loving yourself means to be kind to yourself, but not to the point of self obsession - i don't know if this makes sense, this is just a side note...)

Sorry for the long reply, I'm just.. aaaah I'm so happy it's finally here, I had to scream into the void... Thank you so much for asking me anon, sorry if I made you read more then you expected, hope it wasn't too boring!:))

#loki spoilers #loki season 2 #loki tv show #loki series #loki #mobius m mobius #lokius #sylvie #reviews from ici

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moonpetrichors-blog · 11 months

Text

My Mistake

Tags: Miguel x Spidey!Reader, Oneshot, Crush Blush, Gn!Reader, Close Proximity, Mad Miguel Just Bc 🤘😔

Warnings: None

When assisting Miguel with his leadership duties, you lend an extra hand with the boring computer work. But what happens when you slip and fall into his lap by accident?

Sorry for being so dead on tumblr LMFAO but like everyone else I watched ATSV and had sudden inspiration and also like. yk. miguel is FINE AF.

* ˚ ✦ 844 Words • Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [14/06/23] ❞

As you entered Miguel's headquarters, you tore off the oppressive mask from your face. Although Miguel seemed somewhat icy as an individual, he hadn't thrown you out of the spider society yet for visiting him so frequently, so you took advantage of every opportunity you had to spend time with him. You greeted him heartily from the lower platform, but he was unwilling to turn or respond. Ever the charmer, that one.

You fired one of your webs at a wall to elevate yourself onto his platform. “What’cha working on?”

Miguel appeared to be cranky as he sifted through various anomaly alerts and classified them accordingly on his hologram monitor. He felt irritated by the tedious aspect of his job; it was difficult to find the time to do everything at once while simultaneously fulfilling his leadership duties and being Spiderman 2099. Miguel eventually stirred from his work as he detected your footsteps behind him, although his agitated look remained fixed.

You frowned at him. “What’s the matter?”

It's not surprising that Miguel's temperament deteriorated when you asked him this. What wasn’t wrong? He became belligerent and almost pouty at this.

He resumed swiping across his touchscreen device. “Nothing. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Miguel was fully aware that you had already fulfilled your daily responsibilities, yet he was merely inventing excuses to avoid having to explain himself or ask for your aid. You leant on one of the tables besides you, entertained by his brusque response.

You ignored the last half of his sentence. “It’s clearly not nothing. Seriously, what’s up? If you need help you can just ask.”

He sighed exasperatedly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t need help.”

You had been gesticulating then, gazing at him incredulously. “You’re a bad liar.”

He subsequently focused on you, his head whipping in your direction in aggravation. “Fine! I need assistance with sorting through the anomaly alerts and pinpointing locations.”

You mock gasped, placing your hand over the spider emblem on your suit. “No way! The Miguel is asking me for help? Who are you?”

You chuckled as you stroked his shoulder. “Of course I’ll help.”

He merely grumbled in response. Oh, how you loved teasing this man.

...

God, this was so boring.

As much as you loved to annoy Miguel, you had not anticipated that the remainder of your day would be devoted to quietly reviewing and flicking through the informational screens in his frigid headquarters. Your lower back was suffering from sitting in your chair for so long, so you stood up to straighten out your posture and get a better look at the hologram panels.

Standing for an extended period of time became exhausting as well. You were unaware that the chair you'd sat in previously had rolled away from you slightly, causing you to stumble with a curse when you moved backwards to sit down again. Miguel's reaction time was swift, as he promptly stood behind you, prepared to catch you from tripping.

He felt your back hit his chest. “Ay!”

You were both hurled to the cold, unforgiving floor, hurting faintly from the impact. At the very least, you had Miguel to break the fall (seriously, his musculature was like a cushion). You hadn't noticed that you'd landed on him, his calloused hands anchored around your waist, you sprawled crosswise his powerful thighs. Given your close proximity, the apples of your cheeks flushed ruby.

You had a hard time looking him in the eye. “Sorry, I’m really clumsy...”

Miguel's glare bore down on you with menacing precision, scowling at your blunder. However, that expression was swiftly wiped off his face as he noted your reddened cheeks, and he couldn't help but smirk at you with a bit of sarcasm laced in his voice.

He traced his talons across your sides, through your suit in a teasing fashion. “Ten cuidado, Y/N. How are you clumsy and a spider person?”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe from how close Miguel was, and you could practically smell the lavender and sandalwood shampoo he used. He smelled woody and fresh, and the moment you inhaled his scent, you felt like you were going to faint.

You whispered breathlessly. “You smell nice.”

Miguel’s own cheeks tinged a slight pink, surprised by your sudden compliment. “...Thank you?”

Miguel seemed to be unimpressed, but deep down, he felt touched by your praise and tucked it away in his thoughts like a secret for safekeeping. He'd never admit it, but despite his soft glower, he quite liked seeing you on his lap...

Bonus!

Lyla emerged out of nowhere, searching for Miguel. Her gaze was drawn to you both on the floor right away.

She looked at you both on the floor, with mock disgust. “Someone moved on fast-”

Lyla ducked when Miguel tossed you off his lap, racing to get a piece of hardware to launch at the AI. You winced as Miguel shouted a string of incomprehensible curse words in Spanish at her.

Maybe helping him out was a bad idea...

#↳˳🖤;; ❝ oneshot ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗:#BRO.#MIGUEL IS SO FINE.#oneshot #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #spidey reader #spiderman reader #gender neutral reader #close proximity #crush blush

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fafnir19 · 5 months

Text

Interns should (not) act like a dick

Ben clenched his jaw as he entered the bustling office, avoiding Robert's icy stare. He despised his internship under Robert's wing, enduring the daily grind of tedious tasks and snide remarks. But today, the weight of a troubling discovery left his stomach churning. "Morning, Ben," Robert's voice sliced through the air, dripping with condescension.

"Morning," Ben muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on his computer. He had to focus on his plan; there was too much at stake. As the day wore on, Ben carefully gathered irrefutable evidence of Robert’s embezzlement. He witnessed Robert covertly funneling company funds into his pet hush-hush science project. Ben’s fingers trembled as he composed an email to the company's board, attaching compelling proof of Robert’s misdeeds. Before the clock struck 5 p.m., Ben slipped out of the office, heart pounding with apprehension and determination.

He braved the biting wind outside, hastening to the safety of his home. But the next morning, a foreboding air settled over the office as Ben noticed hushed conversations and furtive glances directed at him. "Robert," Ben ventured when their paths crossed in the break room, "have you heard anything unusual lately?" Robert flashed a tight-lipped smile. "Why? Got something to tell me, intern?" Ben narrowed his eyes, but he bit back the retort that poised on his tongue. He had to be patient, biding his time until the board's response arrived. Days turned into weeks as Ben labored under the weight of his secret, his nerves unraveling with each passing hour. But then, salvation arrived in the form of an urgent summons from the board. His heart raced as he was ushered into a somber meeting room. "We've reviewed the evidence you provided, Ben," the CEO began, his expression grave. "I'm afraid we can't take action against Robert due to his indispensable contributions to our recent breakthrough." Ben's breath caught in his throat, disbelief coursing through his veins. "But—" "It's over, Ben, there's nothing more we can do," the CEO pronounced, finality lacing his words. Defeated, Ben trudged back to his cubicle, grappling with the futility of his efforts. He flinched at the cruel twist of fate that allowed Robert to evade justice, his frustration boiling over. "Good afternoon, Ben," Robert's smug drawl invaded the air, and Ben's fists clenched at his sides. "You've won, Robert," Ben seethed, his voice edged with desperation. "But you won't get away with this forever." Robert's laughter reverberated through the office, a chilling sound that made Ben's blood run cold. "Is that so?" Robert's eyes gleamed with malice. "Maybe it's time I put my latest experiment to good use." Before Ben could comprehend the meaning behind Robert's words, a blinding light enveloped him, accompanied by a cacophony of crackling energy. When the brilliance dissipated, the once-human Ben was gone, replaced by an inanimate object that dangled grotesquely between Robert's legs. "Whwhat have you done to me?" Ben's voice echoed in terror in Robert’s mind. "What a fitting punishment," Robert sneered. "You've acted like a dick, Ben, and now, that's all you'll ever be." Ben's screams of anguish were muffled by the confines of his new existence, his consciousness forever entwined with Robert's depravity. Robert sauntered out of the office, leaving behind the shattered remnants of Ben's life and a chilling reminder of the insidious power he wielded.

Ben refused to accept his fate as Robert's penis, trapped and devoid of agency. "This can't be happening," he muttered, desperation lacing his mind. HIs pleas only amused Robert further as he leaned back on his leather couch, a wicked grin etching into his face. "Oh, Ben, you have no idea how much fun we're going to have together," he taunted, swirling his glass of whiskey with an elegant flick of his wrist. "I promise you, this will be an experience you won't forget, even if you try." The mere thought of being used and erect against Ben’s will made his blood boil: "I won't let you use me like some plaything!" he spat trembling with defiance in Robert’s mind. "I am not your puppet, Robert!" Robert's eyes narrowed, his face now void of mirth. "You will be damned if you think you can defy me," he sneered, a dark edge lacing his tone. "You are mine now, Ben. And whether you like it or not, you will serve your purpose."

Fear and determination mingled within Ben as he refused to succumb to Robert’s dominance. But then, that devious smile crept back onto Robert’s face, and Ben felt his resolve waver. Robert felt victory was close at hand. It was then that Ben heard the unmistakable sounds of a pornographic video playing on the massive television screen before them. Moans, groans, and the rhythmic thumping gradually filled the room. Against Ben’s will, he felt arousal prickling within him. It crawled up his spine, coiling around every nerve ending until he could no longer ignore the pleasure it evoked. Silence fell upon them as he succumbed to the inescapable cravings. He managed to snarl, "What have you done to me?"

Robert chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with twisted satisfaction. "You are becoming what I've always desired, Ben," he whispered knowingly. "You crave this, the intense pleasure that courses through your veins. You are mine, completely."

The sensations intensified - an overwhelming surge of desire propelled Ben to full erection, his body betraying him once again. His mind, filled with a burning mix of shame and pleasure, was consumed by the intensity of his own lust. And then, as if an invisible hand had gripped him tightly, he climaxed, releasing streams of semen into the confines of his new form.

Robert's triumphant laughter, echoing through the loft, as Ben’s mind swirled with confusion, shame, and an undeniable sense of loss. He was trapped, a prisoner to his own biology.

One day ss Robert and the stunning woman sat across from each other at a candlelit table, Ben brimmed with dark determination. Tonight, he would sabotage Robert's date and make him appear impotent. He contemplated his plan, biding his time as the couple engaged in light conversation and flirtatious banter. As their chemistry grew, so did Ben's anticipation. He was determined not to get hard, to prevent the expected intimacy between the two.

At first, their interactions were innocent - sweet kisses and tender touches. Ben, feeling the rise of Robert's arousal, remained unyielding. But then, everything changed. The beautiful woman's hand glided up Robert's thigh, her fingers brushing against his innermost flesh. As her touch reached its destination, Ben sensed Robert's desire reaching its boiling point. A shiver cascaded through Ben's elongated form, his resistance faltering against the growing storm of arousal.

Inexorably, Robert's body responded to the woman's touch. His member stiffened, eagerly awaiting its invitation into the depths of her warmth. Ben, against his desperate will, found himself succumbing to a primal sensation, an overwhelming lust that clouded his senses. His singular focus became clear - to allow Robert's essence to surge through him and into the woman.

The moment arrived, the woman's yearning gaze locked onto Robert's. Without a hesitation, she guided him into her waiting embrace. As their connection deepened, Ben found himself consumed by a fiery frenzy. The sensations coursing through him were unlike anything he had ever known, a mixture of pleasure and despair that twisted within him.

His thoughts became a maelstrom of conflicting desires - his longing to reclaim his former self and the intense craving to submit to this newfound sensation. The dichotomy of pain and pleasure pushed him to the edge, as he braced himself for the inevitable climax. Time seemed to stand still as the woman and Robert melded into one, their bodies moving in a passionate rhythm. Ben, amidst the chaos of his own existence, felt the crescendo of ecstasy approach. With one final surge, Robert's seed exploded within Ben, racing through every inch of his transformed body. For a fleeting moment, he shared in the pleasure that washed over Robert's face. But as the wave of satisfaction ebbed away, the crushing weight of his fate crashed upon him once again. The realization that he was forever trapped in this form, destined to be nothing more than a vessel for another's pleasure, weighed heavily on his soul.

As the night wore on, Robert and the woman retreated into the depths of their passion. Ben's resolve wavered, his conscious mind drowned in the sea of sensation. In the end, all that remained was the agonizing anticipation of the next encounter, the next release of pleasure.

As the morning light filtered through the curtained windows of Robert's loft, he slowly stirred from his slumber, a feeling of anticipation coursing through his veins. He stretched, the soft sheets of his king-sized bed sliding down his chiseled physique. And then, to his surprise, he felt it—the unmistakable presence of a morning arousal.

His eyes widened with delight as he glanced down at the source of this newfound pleasure. "Oh, Ben," Robert murmured, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and amusement. "Looks like you're quite enthusiastic this morning." Ben, now nothing more than a mere extension of Robert's manhood, responded with an eager twitch. As the morning light danced upon his glistening shaft, he greeted his owner, standing tall and proud as though flaunting his newfound virility. "B-ben. I must say, you're doing a remarkable job," Robert said, his voice tinged with sincere appreciation. "Having such an exceptional member like you makes my mornings all the more delightful." A surge of satisfaction coursed through Ben's elongated form, a warm glow illuminating the depths of his being. Despite the strangeness of his situation, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment in bringing pleasure to his newfound master. He beckoned Robert closer with an alluring pulse, whispering a silent plea for release, aching to bring Robert to the pinnacle of ecstasy. Robert’s hand wrapped around Ben's taut flesh, stroking him with practiced precision, evoking a symphony of whispered moans and contented sighs. "Ah, Ben, you truly are a masterpiece," Robert murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "So responsive, so eager to please. You've truly surpassed all my wildest expectations." Ben quivered beneath Robert's skillful touch, his elongated form throbbing with delight. He embraced his role as Robert's prime pleasure provider, delighting in the sensations that coursed through both their bodies, their souls intimately intertwined. As the tension built, pleasure unfurled like delicate tendrils intertwining between them. Ben trembled on the precipice, a wellspring of desire coursing through his veins. And then, with a final, explosive burst, he unleashed torrents of desire, a testament to his commitment to satisfying his master's needs. Robert cried out in ecstasy, an elated cry that filled their sanctum of pleasure. His grip tightened around Ben, his body wracked with the joys of fulfillment. Ben reveled in his newfound purpose, his body thrumming with a pulsating satisfaction. As the blissful haze began to dissipate, he basked in the afterglow of their shared intimacy, a moment suspended in time.

"Well done, Ben," Robert cooed amidst the fading echoes of their shared passion, his voice filled with affection and appreciation. "You truly are a remarkable masterpiece."

In the wake of their morning awakening, the loft was filled with a tranquil silence. Ben nestled against Robert's form, content in the knowledge that, even as a penis, he had found his place in the world.

As the days went by, Ben had begrudgingly accepted his role as Robert's penis. He performed his duties dutifully, greeting his owner every morning with a stiff salute. However, despite his transformation, Ben couldn't ignore the fact that he used to be a person named Ben—Robert could sense it too. Determined to assert his identity, Ben attempted to engage in conversation with Robert whenever the opportunity arose.

But Robert, refusing to acknowledge Ben's existence as anything other than a penis, ignored him. Ben's growing desire for release and pleasure eventually pushed him to his breaking point. "Please, Robert," Ben pleaded, his voice vibrating within the depths of his transformed flesh. "I need to be touched. I can't bear this any longer."

Robert sighed and looked down at his loyal servant. "Ben," he said sternly, "Penises have no names. If you wish to be pleasured, you must accept that you are now nothing but a penis. No longer a man."

Ben's longing for release outweighed his attachment to his old identity. He swallowed his pride and agreed, "Fine... I won't have a name anymore. Just... just pleasure me, Robert."

Robert's lips curled into a smug grin as he realized he had won. "Good boy," he praised, reaching his hand down to bring life to his obedient appendage. The touch sent shivers along Ben's entire length, teasing him with bouts of both pleasure and frustration. Slowly, skillfully, Robert's hand danced along the shaft, building up the intensity of the experience.

As the mounting pleasure surged through Ben's body, he felt a peculiar sensation growing within him. It wasn't just the impending climax but something different, something alien. And then, in a moment of pure ecstasy, it flooded out—Ben's name, his essence, burst forth with his climax, mixing with his own release. His mind clouded with pleasure, Ben realized that he had truly become just a penis, completely devoid of any memory of his former self. And to his surprise, the thought didn't bother him. In that moment, Robert's penis had forgotten that it had ever been anything else. All that mattered to Ben now was the pleasure he could bring to his owner, his sole reason for existing.

And so, the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Ben, now fully embraced as Robert's penis, served his owner faithfully. His name was long forgotten, replaced by the pulsating pleasure he could provide. The loft became a haven for pleasure and indulgence, countless women passing through in search of ecstasy. And with every encounter, Ben's purpose was fulfilled. Pleasure flowed through him, mingling with his owner's satisfaction, and he reveled in his newfound purpose.

At long last, Ben had found his place in the world. Though he had lost his identity as Ben, he found solace and fulfillment as Robert's penis. And as he stood tall and proud, ready to serve yet another willing recipient of pleasure, he realized that sometimes, the most unexpected transformations can lead to a life of unimaginable pleasure and satisfaction.

Every morning, Robert woke up to find himself sporting a raging morning erection. He marveled at the sight, proud of the fact that his penis was now the epitome of virility. One particular morning, after taking a refreshing shower, Robert looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he spoke to his prized possession. "Good morning, my magnificent friend," he purred, his voice filled with a mixture of delight and anticipation. "I hope you're ready for another day of excitement and pleasure."

As if in response to his words, his penis twitched with enthusiasm, growing harder at the prospect of what lay ahead. Robert chuckled with satisfaction, relishing the control he had over his transformed companion. To him, Ben was no longer an individual with thoughts and emotions, but rather a tool designed to bring him immense pleasure.

Throughout the day, Robert's penis remained in a state of constant excitement. It throbbed with anticipation every time a beautiful woman walked by, or when a handsome young man caught his eye. Robert couldn't help but revel in the power he now possessed. He knew that his transformed companion had become a mere extension of his desires, a vessel through which he could experience unparalleled pleasure. As the day drew to a close, Robert returned to his luxurious loft, his thoughts consumed by the absolute control he had over his transformed companion. He stripped away his clothes, his eyes fixated on his magnificent organ. "You've done a wonderful job today," he murmured, his voice laced with praise. His penis pulsed with delight, its veins throbbing with satisfaction. It was eager to please its owner, always craving more of Robert's touch. With every caress, every embrace, it brought Robert immeasurable pleasure. Satisfied with their day's work, Robert allowed himself to succumb to the blissful pleasure that his transformed companion could provide. As his hand wrapped around his throbbing member, he closed his eyes, drowning in the ecstasy that only Ben, now completely devoted to his pleasure, could provide.

The day ended with Robert's satisfied moans filling the air, the pleasure coursing through his veins as his transformed companion fulfilled its purpose.

Robert stood in his luxurious loft, ready to make the next step in his secret experiment. It was the task to transforming his penis back into a human. He had to give it a try. A flicker of light washed over his body and in an instant, his penis transformed back into a human form. But to Robert's surprise, it wasn't Ben that stood before him. Instead, a stunning young man, as if conjured from a wet dream, graced his presence. The stranger possessed chiseled facial features, with high cheekbones that accentuated his flawlessly smooth complexion. Not a single strand of body hair marred his sculpted physique, which boasted athletic muscles without an ounce of fat. Robert couldn't take his eyes off this dreamlike figure, with piercing blue eyes and short, tousled blonde hair that completed his ethereal appearance.

Expecting Ben to recognize him, Robert spoke his name with anticipation. "Ben, how are you?" To his surprise, the young man stared back with confusion, questioning his identity. Robert asked for his name, but the youth replied blankly that he had no name. Perplexed, Robert decided to bestow upon him the name Beau. It seemed fitting for this enigmatic creation. Robert pondered what his new companion might desire after his time spent as a penis. He believed that Ben must have missed certain experiences that were impossible in that state. Eager to see what Beau's desires were, Robert asked him what he would like to do now. Without hesitation, Beau replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes, that he wished to be touched by Robert, to bring him pleasure. A tinge of excitement coursed through Robert as he realized the potential lying before him. With a newfound purpose, Beau stood there, poised to indulge in the pleasures he was created for. The transformation had not brought back his memories, but Beau was eager to explore his new role. And Robert was more than ready to find out just how good Beau could make him feel.

Robert stood in the sleek modern office, a triumphant smile on his face. Beau, his newly transformed companion, stood beside him, looking strikingly handsome in his youthful appearance. He wore a crisp suit that fit him perfectly, accentuating his chiseled physique.

Robert introduced Beau to the CEO, proudly stating that Beau used to be Ben, but their experiment had been a success. Beau was now the perfect, loyal, and submissive intern. The CEO looked at Beau, a mixture of surprise and curiosity evident in his eyes. "Is this true, Robert? This young man used to be Ben?" Robert nodded, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Yes, CEO, you wouldn't believe it, but the transformation was incredible. Beau here used to be a bit of a handful, but now, he's just the obedient intern I've always wanted." Beau, still coming to terms with his new existence, stood up straighter and tried to hide his lack of knowledge about his previous life as Ben. "Yes, CEO, I'm Beau now. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to succeed, just like Robert." The CEO chuckled, clearly amused and intrigued by the situation. "Well, Robert, I have to say, your methods may be unorthodox, but if it yields such remarkable results, who am I to argue? Welcome aboard, Beau. I trust Robert will introduce you to the ins and outs of the business world." Robert smiled, his hand reaching out to brush against Beau's arm possessively. "Of course, CEO. Beau here is a quick learner. I have no doubt that he'll be an invaluable addition to the team."

As the CEO left the office, closing the door behind him, Robert turned to face Beau, a devious glint in his eyes. "Well, Beau, now that you're my perfect intern, I think it's time for you to show just how devoted you are to pleasing me."

Beau's heart raced in his chest as he looked into Robert's eyes, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. He knew what Robert was implying, and a part of him ached with desire to fulfill his new purpose. "Yes, Robert. I want to be just like you. I want to bring you pleasure and be completely devoted to your desires." Robert's smile widened, and he leaned closer to Beau, his voice a low, seductive whisper. "Good. I'm glad you're eager. Now, show me just how willing and skilled you can be."

Beau nodded, his heart pounding in anticipation. He dropped to his knees, his hands reaching for Robert's belt buckle. As Beau began to undo it and to suck Robert’s cock, the office became a sanctuary of desire, where pleasure and submission reigned supreme.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #ctf #cock tf #cock transformation #straight to gay

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so-mordor-itis · 1 year

Text

Something as Simple as This

A/N: Aha...I may have gotten a bit carried away with this one, you guys. oopsie doopsie-

"I exist in two places

here and where you are." -Margaret Atwood

–

The drive home felt longer than it should've. Perhaps it was your exhaustion beating against your eyelids, begging for rest. Or it could've been the fact that this work trip went as terrible as you imagined it would. Stiff rooms, barely tolerable coworkers. When you studied journalism in college and had received your degree, you wanted to imagine there would be at least one person you'd like–maybe be considered an acquaintance or a friend.

No. No one in that office space would ever be welcomed in your life besides stacks of newspapers and prints.

At a stop light, you glanced at your phone. Your fingers itched to call Leon again, let him know you were out of the airport and driving home safe. Though you knew you'd be welcomed by an answering machine the moment you tried. He was probably still at work himself. He put his phone on silent just in case. Another part of you just didn't feel like grabbing it. You were so exhausted that the thought of reaching out and plucking your phone would make you crash.

You managed to drive from the stop light to the apartment complex without falling asleep at the wheel. You took a deep breath before exiting the vehicle, taking out a plastic tin of leftovers and a stack of papers you were told to review. Something about scientists studying a new type of fungi. It could definitely wait until tomorrow.

Shuffling items around your arms, you found the key to your apartment and unlocked it–almost dropping your dinner in the process. The hum of the TV greeted you, and your heart dropped: you didn't forget to turn it off before you left, did you? You could almost see the skyrocketing power bill.

You plopped the papers and food on the counter, swiftly approaching the living room, only to see a familiar tuft of blond hair poking out from the couch. You breathed a little sigh of relief, but then guilt flooded your system. He was home, and you didn't call because you figured he wouldn't be.

"Leon?" You called him gently, but he didn't respond. You peered over the couch to find him asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly and at a steady pace. You weren't the only one who was exhausted. He was in his usual gray shirt and sweatpants he wore around the house, and you couldn't help but admire him.

A funny feeling sizzled in your chest. You two had just moved in together–he offered you stay in his apartment, claiming you'd make it more lively. He looked embarrassed when he said that he hated how bare it was, and sometimes he felt like he didn't live in it, simply stayed until he had to go again. You felt your heart tear a little, but at the same time, you felt in awe he thought of anything you liked as homely. That he thought of you as home.

You weren't quite used to it yet. Of not living by yourself, of having signs of another human being live with you. Seeing his toothbrush next to yours, seeing his clothes in the laundry, seeing his nightstand with his work phone and watch next to each other, it made your heart full in a way you couldn't explain. You had already figured he was becoming a part of your life, of your soul. He signed the contract in your heart, and that was that.

It was endearing to think that the other part of your soul was a mere inch away.

You didn't realize how long you'd been staring at him. Leon began to shuffle, and his eyes opened. Those beautiful icy blues found your own and lit up with surprise. "Oh, sweetheart, when did you get home?"

You offered him a small, tired simper. "A little bit ago. Sorry I didn't call, I figured you were at work."

He was on his feet in an instant, circling around the couch to wrap his arms around you tightly. "Not a bad assumption to make," he murmured into your hair. "I don't blame you for it." He let out a satisfied sound, and you felt relieved he was just as happy to see you as you were to see him.

You could've fallen asleep in his arms. He was so warm and safe. You felt like nothing could touch you while he was around. He was your fortress, your safe haven. You knew he felt the same, could feel it in his touch, in the way he spoke. You were his calm when he needed it.

Unfortunately, you knew you would fall asleep. You pried yourself from him, tired eyes blinking slower and slower by the minute. "I'm so tired, I'm probably going to just shower and sleep."

"Jesus, yeah, you look like you're about to keel over." His hand still cupped your waist, rubbing small circles of comfort. "Did they run you into the ground?" He sounded a bit angry now. You had told Leon a bit about your job and how awful your coworkers were. But you were worried that if you told him too much, he'd do something about it. And you knew he had connections.

"Unfortunately," you said, walking past him to find the bedroom you two shared. A hot shower and a nice bed called your name. You wouldn't mind adding Leon cuddling you to that equation, either.

He had followed you, watching as you splashed water on your face. You finally got to look at yourself in the mirror and frowned at the dark half moons under your eyes.

"No shower invite?" He asked teasingly. You caught his gaze in the mirror, a glint of mischief and love in his eyes.

"Not in the mood for anything remotely sexy, Lee."

" I just meant helping you shower." He shrugged. "Not everything has to be dirty," Leon drawled your name, and you laughed.

"Says the one who can't keep his hands off me."

"I just appreciate my partner."

You giggled, and his smile widened. "I'd actually really like the company."

He nodded, grabbing a towel, his towel. "I can't say no to that."

Your chest sizzled with adoration. You supposed this is what people meant by someone being your soulmate. A person who carried the traits you needed, a person who would light up at the simple sound of your name–no, not even your name, the syllable of it. They would gently hand you their soul so you would connect it with theirs, creating a home with your hearts.

|Tags:|

@uhlunaro , @unhealthy-leon-brainrot , @honeyfict , @azul-marie , @leonskillshot , @izuniias , @favouritereadings , @justonemore-fic , @starbird-garden , @starbirdfinch , @konigbabe ,

#resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon x you #leon x y/n #leon x reader #my writing

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the-kr8tor · 5 months

Note

TTN oneshot request :): reader who's been invited to one of the parties after Hobie's band gigs. Hobie,being his usual teasing self,tries to make r dance with him to one of the songs that come from the speakers but he can't dance at all,so reader ends up teaching him.

-🎸 anon

Ahhh 🎸 anon!! I love this prompt thank you for sending it 🫶 I changed some things around hope u don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (r is mentioned to wear makeup though) cw drinking, poop jokes lol, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You lean against a railing overlooking the spacious backyard. Watching Yuri dismiss the third man who tried his luck tonight is better than any cable tv, she scoffs, waving the disappointed man away with her long nails. Yuri notices you giggling by yourself, she beckons you over to the dance floor with a smile. You shake your head with a laugh, gesturing to your half empty cup. She sighs dramatically, miming a crying face. You blame the booze in her system on why she's so lively. It's a nice change though, you love seeing her prance around the dance floor, looking for a more worthy partner.

The bass booms, playing all the classic punk music in the speakers. The sky is dotted with twinkling stars, cool air blowing past the grassy backyard. Roaming your eyes around the venue, you spot James chatting up a familiar figure, his arm slung comfortably around her shoulders. She laughs at something he said, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. You smile softly, happy for them both.

You turn around to face the inside of the ridiculously huge house. The home is packed with bodies bouncing around, the glass shakes from the loud music blaring inside. You see Ned becoming an unwilling bartender, mixing drinks for everyone after he got a particularly nasty bloody mary from someone who's so drunk they shouldn't even be near the kitchen.

With all the people watching you're doing, there's one person you haven't seen in a while. You wonder what he's up to, hopefully not to sneak behind you to carry and throw you into the icy pool—

“You're not very good at sneaking up on me anymore, Hobs”

Hobie groans right behind you, looking over your shoulder, you smirk at him. “How?” He effortlessly lifts himself up on the railing, arms envelope around you, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. You help secure him with your hands around his elbows.

“I can sense you a mile away.” You whisper the next part. “I think I got your spidey senses from hanging around you too much”

“You make it sound like a disease!” The alcohol makes him all gooey inside, just for you. “Y’know I have the cure right here”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it then?” Turning around, you face him fully, his arms never leaving your waist whilst your hands never leave his skin.

Hobie points at his lips quickly before he falls on the ground (like you would even let him fall with your hands holding him steady)

“Here”

“Ah! Is your cure tried and tested? Peer reviewed by scientists?”

“Only one way to find out”

You giggle, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips. He tastes of beer and licorice he's been chewing on since you've arrived at his friend's' house. Your hand blindly slides to the back of his neck, fingers scratching lightly. Hobie smiles into the kiss, his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.

Unfortunately, you need air to survive so you reluctantly pull away. He chases your lips making you peck him thrice to ease his suffering from apparent lack of kisses.

“I think I just overdosed on your cure” you hold him close even with the wooden railing between you.

Hobie chuckles, “You'll be fine” he swipes away the sheen left on your lips.

“So considerate. Where have you been, huh?” You lean close to his ear. “Did you go out and fight crime? Are you okay?”

There's goosebumps on his arms, not from the cold. “Nah, I was in the bathroom, taking a huge dump–”

You clasp your hand over his mouth, Laughing through it. “I literally just ate, babe”

“Just answerin’ your question, Gromit. ‘m being honest it was big,” he measures using his hands, “this big. Record size” Hobie loses his grip on the railing, falling flat on his ass.

“Huh, I see a bigger one right here” you look down, seeing him feign offense with his hand clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I should've thrown you in the pool when I had the chance and then we’ll have a floater” he nonchalantly rests on the grass by his elbows. Looking up at you with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes, walking down the steps to help him up before he gets grass stains all over his leather jacket. Hobie clearly doesn't need your help getting up but he would take any opportunity to hold your hand. Your hands are still slightly cool from the drink, a stark contrast to his warm ones, a welcome difference to the both of you.

Heaving him up, Hobie meets you in a tight embrace, smothering you in his hold; you love it though. Slowly he sways you to the beat of a punk song you recognize from back when you and Hobie were in highschool together. A reminiscent of your younger days with only homework and school to worry about and the deep longing you have for your best friend now turned partner.

If only your younger self could see you now, she’d think you did well for yourself. She'd be proud of all the things you've accomplished with the love of your life with you.

“D’you remember this song?” Hobie whispers in your ear, his piercing kisses the shell of your ear.

“How could I not remember?” You lift your head from the comfort of his chest, eyes staring fondly at Him.

He chuckles, you feel the happiness vibrate from him. “Yeah, but d’you know the backstory?” you shake your head.

“I requested this song to the bloke who was holding us hostage with his shitty songs.” You chortle, Hobie continues his story. “I had to bribe the wanker,” he sighs. “So I could ask you to dance with me.”

Your eyes soften, heat behind your sockets, your hold on him tightens.

“Then I realized I can't fuckin’ dance and I'll make a bloody fool of myself in front of you. So I let the music play and continued to talk to you throughout the party because that was enough for me.” He pauses, your eyes are glossy, glimmering under the porch lights. “Being with you was enough.”

You feel the tears fall so you hide your face on his chest once again, feeling sorry for soaking his shirt, you let your hug tell your feelings.

“Don't hide from me right after I poured my heart out to you.” He laughs, his fingers spread across your nape, rubbing softly, finding you endearing. “C’mon, I need to see my Gromit”

You look up with red eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged. “Fuck you” you say with tears on your cheeks, trying to sniff it away. But your wide smile and grip on his shirt tells your true feelings. “You're such a little shit”

Hobie laughs loudly, fingertips cleaning away smudged makeup. “Yeah, yeah, but you love this little shit”

You lean up to kiss him, as gentle as he holds you, as affectionate as he loves you.

Sighing, you cup his face. “I do, so much.”

He presses your foreheads together, enough to make tears escape your eyes once again. Hobie's fingers catch them, wiping it away from your skin.

“If you let me teach you will you ask me to dance with you?” Whispering, you loop your arms around his neck, swaying with the beat.

“I might be a lost cause, love.”

“I'm patient, don't worry” you can't seem to keep your lips away from him as you kiss the corner of his lips.

Hobie suddenly pulls away, leading you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Alright then, no time to lose!”

You let him guide you, laughing all the way. He shimmies on the dance floor, long limbs flailing about, eyes staying on you.

You've got your work cut out for you.

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nova-amor · 7 months

Text

𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮 [𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 [𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦], 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 [𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥]

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟐.𝟓𝐤

house parties had never really been your thing. all throughout high school and college, you had preferred to stay tucked away in your room, binge-watching a movie series or reviewing lesson sheets while your friends spent their friday and saturday evenings at the nearest party. there had been no strong appeal to spending your nights out drunk, sandwiched between sweaty bodies while the worst techno music overwhelmed your eardrums.

and, it wasn't like your friends made fun of you or tried to pressure you to tag along to such parties either— they had quickly learned to respect your recluse behavior and would often just send you videos or photos throughout the night to keep you in the loop, which you always found enjoyment out of.

so, it definitely came as a shock to everyone when you had willingly volunteered to join them for a night out one random evening. you had elected yourself as the designated driver for the evening, which they had very much appreciated with the rising price increases in third-party riding apps. upon arrival at the party, you had slipped away into the backyard, attempting to escape from the nauseating aroma of cheap booze, sweat, and other foul body odors.

the music was also a bit quieter outside, fewer people to interact with, and a soft golden glow from the porch lights that was just enough to illuminate the texts from the book you were reading. having found peace amongst the chaos of the house party, you were thoroughly enjoying the moment up until it was rudely interrupted by the host.

a ice cold liquid spilled atop your head, a high-pitched screech of surprise eliciting from the depths of your throat as the sickly sweet scent of booze-filled your nostrils. your vision was blurred, your head sweeping left and right before your sight finally landed on the culprit behind you.

“oh, shit, i'm so sorry,” satoru gojo gasped, his artic blue eyes forming into the size of saucers. it was as if he was frozen into place, muscle tensed and pale cheeks heated up with a scarlet tint. “shit, i didn't mean to spill— someone bumped into me and— fuck, i'm so sorry—”

his rambling pissed you off, the back of your hands now stained with the sticky substance of beer and makeup as you wiped your eyes. your hair was soaked in beer, along with your shirt and bra. you glared up at him, streaks of black mascara and eyeliner smudged around your eyes and down your cheeks.

“where's the bathroom?” your voice was icy, laced with venom as you abruptly stood up from the bench. satoru was barely able to slip a word out, his pink lips agape and towering frame dwarfed beneath the intensity of your gaze. he pointed in a random direction upstairs, earning a roll of your eyes and a shove to his shoulder as you brushed past him.

you tore open the sliding door, the gross aroma of alcohol and sweat making your lips curl in disgust as you squeezed through the large crowd. you pushed and shoved past people, earning a few glares and under-the-breath snarls as you made your way upstairs.

finally, finding the bathroom, the golden overhead light illuminated the yellowish splotches that decorated your white t-shirt and smears of your makeup, effectively ruining your evening. as you stripped yourself of your top, there was a sharp knock to the bathroom door before a familiar white-haired man poked his head through the door.

“fuck, i'm so sorry,” satoru apologized as he stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. you peeked at the black hoodie held in his fist while you rubbed a damp washcloth around your cheeks, the act smearing more makeup around than actually removing it. “i'll send you money for the shirt, just tell me how much it was. and, i grabbed you a hoodie, it might be a bit big on you but at least it's better than nothing, right?”

you glanced between the hoodie satoru was clinging to and his eyes. you had never seen satoru look so afraid before, most likely because you rarely got angry at anyone. and, whenever you did, you allowed actions to dictate rather than your words.

“i don't want your money,” you sneered at him, your face finally rid of all your makeup. you tilted your head forward, rinsing your hair beneath the rushing cold water spewing from the faucet. “you can just leave the hoodie on the toilet, thanks.”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip, fixated on the curve of your back as you bent over the bathroom counter. his gaze was shameless, heat pooling into his pelvis as he inhaled a sharp breath of cold air through his nose. he sat the hoodie down on the basin of the toilet, taking a step closer to you.

“let me help you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers engulfed yours, aiding you in your attempt to rinse all of the beer from your hair. his pelvis was pressed softly to your behind, his warmth radiating through the layers of fabric between the two of you. “i'm really sorry again, just wanna make it up to you. i'll do whatever it takes, just don't want you t' be mad at me.”

a shiver runs down your spine— either from the weight of satoru's words, the cold water cascading down the sides of your face, or both.

“gojo, stop apologizing,” you said as you peeled your head out from under the water. satoru took a step back to grab a decorated towel, allowing you some space between the two of you. “you don't need to make anything up to me; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do it. it's over, let's be done with it.”

as you wrapped the towel around your head, satoru's hands grabbed at your waist— pressing your back up against the bathroom counter while his legs found their place between yours. one of his hands trailed up the curve of your body, ghosting over the swell of your bra-clad breast before cupping your neck, and gently tilting your head backward. his light blue eyes peered down at you, pupils wavering and enlarged. “are you sure there's nothing i can do to make it up to you?”

you gulped, heart pounding a frantic rhythm as the temperature of the bathroom seemed to rise from his close proximity. "gojo," your voice was breathy, the lingering remnants of anger melting into a puddle within your chest as the pad of his thumb caressed the hinge of your jaw.

“stop calling me gojo, angel,” satoru’s head dipped down, mere centimeters away from your face. it felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore.

“and let me make it up to you the best way i know how,” half-lidded eyes glancing between your lips and your eyes. the tip of his nose brushes against yours, your head growing light from the intensity of the moment. “would you allow that?”

with a soft nod of your head, satoru's lips press against yours— capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips, stealing the very air from your lungs. his hand squeezes at your waist, the lingering sweetness of alcohol flooding your mouth. satoru guides you over to the toilet, his long legs spread out as you sit upon his lap.

the wet sounds of your lips fill the bathroom's void, the booming noise of dance music fading away as you surrender pieces of yourself to satoru. his hand trails up from your neck to cup the back of your head, smushing your faces together while his other hand kneads at the fat of your ass cheek through your jeans.

“fuck,” his voice is deep and raspy, dripping with lust as your lips devour the sides of his neck with scorching hot kisses and licks. you suckle at the space beneath his ear, ripping a long groan from his throat as you nip at the sensitive spot. “fuck— lemme— can i take your pants off, please?”

“no,” you breathe into satoru's ear, your bruised lips brushing against the soft earlobe. your fingers hook onto the waistband of satoru's pants, barely able to tug them down from your position on his lap. “but you can take yours off.”

you snake down to the bathroom, watching with hungry eyes as satoru peels his pants and boxer briefs off, the fabric pooled at his ankles as you kneel in front of him. his cock is long, thick, and veiny— cockhead flushed a rosy shade of pink, oozing pearls of white pre-cum.

a hushed fuck is breathed out through gritted teeth as your soft hands wrap around the base of his cock, pumping his throbbing length with twists and flicks of your wrists. your lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the white globs of pre-cum seeping from the slit. satoru's hips buck up to chase the warm sensation of your mouth engulfing him, his head dipping back to lean against the bathroom wall, whispers of praise and moans bubbling up from the depths of his throat.

“fuck yes,” his voice is soft, his fingers stretched across the back of your head, guiding your mouth up and down whatever inches you allowed your throat to gobble down. “so wet— mouth feels so good— such a good girl f'me— f-fuck, just like that, god you look like a dream—”

his cock pokes at the gummy wall at the back of your throat, tears streaming down your hollowed cheeks as satoru guides your head up and down his cock in languid movements. he twitches against your tongue, your mind spiraling, completely forgetting how vulnerable you two were to getting caught. at any given someone could open the door and catch you in the act, satoru's pitiful hiccups were drowned out by the thumping of the music downstairs.

“stop stop stop,” satoru peels your mouth off his cock, his muscles tensed from his approaching orgasm. he practically melts at the sight of your teary eyes and flushed lips, drool pooling down the edges of your mouth as you look up at him. “don't wanna cum yet... c'mere here, pretty girl.”

satoru helps you from off the floor, heat rushing between your thighs as he pulls down the fabric of your jeans. you don't fight satoru as he twists your body around, guiding your hips back down onto his lap. your legs are stretched over his bare thighs, the sticky girth of his cock flushed against your sex. his dick slips between your soaked lips, cunt drooling all over his length as he teases the pulse of your clit.

the mushroom tip then pushes through your entrance, the delicious stretch of his cock easing its way through your tight ring earning a quivering groan from the man. “god, you feel good around my dick, such a perfect pussy—”

a pleasant buzz settles over your mind, your head tilting back to nestle against his shoulder. “gonna fuck me good, ‘toru?” you tease as satoru guides your hips, lifting your body up and down his length as if you were his personal sex doll. his biceps and thighs flex against you, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock as he thrusts into your tight heat.

“you fuckin’ know it— g’na give ya the best dick ya ever had, g’na make sure ya remember this forever,” satoru rambles into your ear, affectionate kisses peppered across your neck as a muscled arm snakes around your waist. “squeezin' me so tight, angel; best pussy i've ever had,” he grinds his hips into you, barely able to muster up the strength to pound you properly.

“ya feel even better, ‘toru, fuckin’ love yer cock,” you groan out, his cock nudging against the gummy walls of your cunt, stroking the fire within you just enough to pull pathetic whimpers and moans from you. “yer cock was made f’me, f-fucckk—”

“g'na cum deep inside you, okay? so close, so fuckin' close, pretty girl— need ya t' cum with me, baby, okay?” satoru whimpers, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. you felt like you were on cloud nine, like your soul had drifted out of your body and into the very heavens above.

with your eyes pinched closed, all you can do is nod and gargle out a pathetic series of “yesyesyes”s. satoru's free hand latches to one of your breasts, peeling back the thick layer of your bra to pinch at your nipple. he twirls the sensitive bud between his slender fingers, tugging and pinching at them until their nice and puffy.

the sensitivity of your breasts being fondled and his cock head rubbing at the mind-numbing spot buried deep into your gummy walls tears a scream from your throat as your release submerges you into its depths. satoru tenses up against you, his cock pressed impossibly close against your cervix as a series of curse words ramble from his lips. his cum stains your insides— the thick load spilling out from your sopping cunt and dripping down his balls.

satoru holds you close for a few moments, his labored breaths heating your skin as he presses his sweaty forehead into the back of your shoulder. “holy fuck,” he manages a chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade. “let me just stay like this for a little bit more, not ready to pull out just yet, pretty pussy's just too warm.”

you lean against satoru for what feels like an eternity, your tiny sniffles and whimpers filling the air as satoru adjusts your weight atop him. “satoru, we should clean up before someone walks in, we forgot to lock the door,” you manage to say, earning an annoyed huff from the man.

satoru reluctantly pulls out of you, your legs too weak to support your own weight as you lean against the opposing wall. he guides you to take his place on the toilet seat's lid, the plastic warm against your skin as he shuffles around to grab you something to clean yourself with. he settles on the damp cloth you used to wipe your makeup with, his touch attentive and gentle as he kneels before you— making sure to clean every drop of cum and arousal from every crevice and fold of your cunt.

“fuck, look at that,” he murmurs, peeling back at your puffy lips as a white glob of cum seeps out from your entrance. it drools down your slit before pooling on the seat. “what a pretty sight, my cum drippin' out of your cute little pussy.”

you roll your eyes, cheeks puffed out in embarrassment as satoru scoops up the spilled cum. his finger prods at the tight ring of your entrance, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers hook into the walls of your cunt— fucking the wasted seed back into you.

“can't let it all go to waste, right?” satoru gazes up at you, a smug smirk painted across his lips.

“s-satoru, the door—” your hips buck to meet his shallow ministrations, another chuckle bubbling from his lips. he litters kisses along the soft skin of your inner thighs before resting his cheek against the warm skin.

he peers up at you from below, another finger slipping deep inside of you. “i'll make sure to lock the door this time, baby— don't want someone catching a glimpse of what's mine, right?”

maybe parties weren't so bad after all.

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