#(QUITE A FEW FANS especially more casual fans)

[koushirouizumi]

{H.O.L.I.C R.E.I} ~ Ch. 08 v.s. {K.O.B.A.T.O} + FRAMING ~ WATANUKIs {+K.O.B.A.T.Os} A P A R T M E N T (originally also of) {C.H.O.B.I.T.S} HIDEKI's

"Its THE N E X T ONE {O V E R}, Isn't it?"

"...Just as I thought, an {E M P T Y} R O O M." - WATANUKI

"Why do you think so?" - Domeki, (Pointed)

"There's NO S I G N of P E O P L E Coming in OR out, but..." - Watanuki

"Yet there's a {T E L E V I S I O N} Set..."

{Cap by Me} (Please ASK to Use)

B O N U S:

{"T.y.r.o.l" ("Chiroru") is a place in C.H.O.B.I.T.S}

[mydearestbeloved]

Imagine #1

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: Implied Yandere (If you squint), mild grotesque imaginary of killing a magic beast

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

This is now officially a series! You can check "Trial Player AU" here: [Masterlist🦋✨️]

You never imagined your life would take such a drastic turn. One moment, you were typing away on your laptop, and the next, you found yourself in a universe where Hunters, dungeons, and magic were the norm.

As a casual fan of the manhwa, you were more than familiar with the storyline and its characters. But this was real, painfully real, and your heart raced in your chest as you tried to make sense of it all.

Isekai'd into the world of Solo Leveling was unexpected, but this?

This was even more bizarre.

___

Isekai stories were meant to be fun. A fresh start in a different world with cool powers and thrilling adventures, right?

[Congratulations!

You have been selected by the System for an exclusive test run.]

The first time you saw that message, you had no idea what it meant. But after receiving a few more cryptic messages and nearly dying in a lower-rank dungeon?

You would be foolish if continue that thought.

You weren’t just dropped into this world—you were the 'Trial Player'. A glitch, a test subject for the system before it latched onto its true player.

It sounded like a game, a brief test before things returned to normal.

Except now you’re stuck.

___

You didn’t want to interfere, to change the storyline you knew too well.

The system gave you powers once you started leveling up.

Since you weren’t a fighter by nature, learning how to defend yourself have been a whole other story. Healing however, had come to you almost too naturally. You were rather fortunate (or is it unfortunate?) in that regard, as you discovered early on that your specialized ability was more… versatile, than it seemed.

Simply put, they were dual-edged.

Healing and harming were two sides of the same coin—just a matter of intent.

You could heal yourself and allies just fine, but with enemies? The same touch that mended could also cause harm.

A giant serpent once learned that the hard way.

___

The cold wind brushed against your face as you stared down at the monstrous serpent writhing in its final throes. You hadn’t meant to do it that way—honestly, it was an accident.

You had only wanted to defend yourself, yet in an act of panic, you had somehow amplified the beast's venom glands, forcing it to produce venom at an uncontrollable rate to the point of overloading its own internal organs.

The monster literally drowned in its own deadly concoction.

As the hissing faded, you watched with wide eyes as the giant serpent collapsed, dead. A familiar notification dinged in the corner of your vision.

[Congratulations!

You have successfully defeated a C-Rank Venom Serpent!]

The cheerful tone that rang in your ears was far too enthusiastic for your liking.

[System will now place Blue Venom-Fanged Kasaka in its place.]

You let out a shaky breath, still in shock.

[You have just proven yourself to be quite entertaining,

Trial Player (Name)_

Shall we continue with more interesting challenges?]

What the hell just happened?

___

From the start, you’d made the decision to stay under the radar.

At first, it was overwhelming.

The system's notifications, the power you gained with each step, and the dangerous world you were thrust into were enough to make anyone completely lost their mind.

But, despite the insanity of your new reality, you had to admit you’d adapted rather well.

From that day forward, the system acted more like a mischievous partner than a mere overseer.

In fact, the system had seemed delighted by your attempts to remain discreet, since it was more than willing to help you falsify your ranking, allowing you to masquerade as a mere C-rank. Not that you cared much about rankings, but blending in was important, especially since you knew what was coming. You didn't want to stand out when the real chaos began.

The system had its reasons, no doubt, but you didn’t question it. As long as it kept your secret and allowed you to survive without drawing too much attention, you were content.

With your knowledge of the Solo Leveling storyline—albeit you still need to fill in some gaps in your memory here and there—you avoided changing the narrative too much. However, when it came to the protagonist, you found it difficult to completely stay away.

As a fan, you already knew what hardships awaited him, and as much as you tried not to interfere, your heart ached terribly seeing him suffer through his early days as an E-rank hunter.

Even knowing he’d become the world’s strongest eventually, you still found yourself lessening his burden.

You weren’t trying to change anything significant—just minor things. Healing him faster when he was injured and unconscious after dangerous raids, anonymously covering some of his mother's medical bills, leaving useful items at his doorstep. All of it was done behind the curtain, leaving no trace.

You kept your distance; each act was a silent tribute to a hero you believed deserved better.

Or maybe, it was because you saw something in him that reminded you of your own struggle—your own loneliness in this strange world.

After all, this wasn’t your story. It was his.

___

You vowed not to meddle in the timeline.

That was to say, you had no intention of getting involved in the main storyline.

So, when the time came for him to finally accept the system’s offer and became the player, the trial period for you ended.

The screens pop-ups ceased.

The missions vanished.

The system had gone silent.

You could finally step back, let him take the reins. You could enjoy the world for yourself, live your life in this reality.

Or so you thought.

___

It was supposed to be a quiet day, just like any other.

You found yourself wandering through a familiar street in Seoul, lost in thought.

You weren’t sure what it was that tipped you off—the weight of someone’s gaze on your back, perhaps—but when you turned around, your breath hitched.

Gaze locked in with sharp, glowing blue.

And a familiar chirp in your mind, as smug as ever.

[Fancy meeting you here,

Trial Player (Name)_ ]

Damnit, you sly—!

"‘Trial Player’, huh?"

You clenched your fists and bit your lip as his voice cut through your inner turmoil.

Stormy hues, and ebony locks that looked too fluffy not to touch.

Taller, and his voice deeper than the last time you heard him.

There was no way you could mistake him for someone else.

There was no way you could forget him.

Sung Jinwoo

The system hummed in amusement behind him, oddly pleased with itself.

A screen flickered in your periphery.

[Dear Trial Player, (Name)_

Be careful not to spill your secret to Player Sung Jinwoo,

else you may find the penalty quite costly.]

Playful, yet the warning echoed in your mind.

You had no idea what the system’s penalty might be, and you weren’t eager to find out.

“I’ve been wondering about the mysterious healer who’s been helping me. I guess I have my answer now.”

Calm, that tone of his was way too calm, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt your stomach drop. How much did he know? How long had he suspected—

“Don’t look so surprised,” Jinwoo continued with a chuckle, a small, dangerous tilt playing on his lips, “The system can be… revealing at times.”

The insufferable chirps like giggles in your ear following his statement made it clear—there was no escape now.

Sung Jinwoo knew, or at least, he knew enough.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” Jinwoo said, stepping closer.

You instinctively took a step back.

"Join my party."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat instead.

“What?"

“I want you to join me,”

Jinwoo repeated with the same exact tone, as if that one sentence was enough for your mind to grasp at—whatever situation this had spiral to be.

Your brain scrambled for an answer. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. “I prefer staying out of the spotlight,” you muttered, trying to avoid his gaze.

Jinwoo leaned in slightly, his expression unreadable. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t think I’m going to let that happen.”

The system pinged again.

[Player Sung Jinwoo has extended a party invitation.]

“I didn’t agree to—”

The screen popped up again.

[Trial Player cannot refuse this invitation.]

You blinked at the screen, then at him.

Jinwoo kept his eyes on you—glowing in that beautiful, beautiful blue—practically daring you to refuse.

You felt trapped.

___

And that was how you found yourself reluctantly dragged into Sung Jinwoo’s (formerly solo) party.

You were supposed to be a background character at most, but now you were standing beside the future strongest hunter, going on raids, facing dungeon bosses, and… spending far too much time with him outside of said raids.

You don’t know why, but outside of dungeons were even worse. Jinwoo seemed to find excuses to be around you, despite your best efforts to avoid him. Whether it was casual visits to the same cafés you frequented or crossing paths in the market, he always seemed to be there at every turn. It was unsettling how often his gaze lingered on you, as if he was trying to unravel the very essence that made you, you.

Persistent, relentless, and far too observant for your liking. Jinwoo followed you, making sure you never slipped away, sticking close like your own personal shadow.

You might have laughed at the irony, if you were not the center of his attention.

Sung Jinwoo refused to leave you alone.

You weren't sure how he'd managed to pull you into his orbit, but he had, and now you were stuck in the very story you were trying to avoid.

A soft laugh; a rare sound that made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, My Healer.”

___

"Oh, what have I gotten myself into..." you muttered under your breath, feeling the weight of the situation crash down on you.

The system chimed in, always and without fail, far too gleeful for your liking.

[What indeed, Trial Player?

What indeed.]

You really, really, want to kick this damned system to space.

End Note:

Finally, I can sleep now...

Every related imagines I post after this WILL NOT follow any particular/chronological order.

[fratttymatty]

Nathan's Parked

(All characters are 18+)

Nathan Parker had never quite fit in at Westbrook High. He was the kind of guy who spent his lunch breaks huddled in the back corner of the library, buried in books about superheroes or playing online games. He had thick glasses, messy brown hair that he never quite knew what to do with, and an awkward way of talking that made him stand out in the worst possible way. He didn’t have many friends, and his idea of a "good time" was usually just scrolling through fan fiction on his phone or studying for tests he didn't care much about. Nathan had long accepted that he would always be the geeky loner.

And then there was the secret he kept hidden from everyone: Nathan was gay, and while he didn’t mind the solitude, it would have been nice to share his feelings with someone.

But that was a far-off dream, something he'd shoved into the deepest parts of his heart. Who would want someone like him? Especially at a school where the jocks and cheerleaders ruled the social hierarchy, and someone like him was just… invisible.

One afternoon, after a grueling chemistry class, Nathan found himself wandering the aisles of the local drugstore, searching for something—anything—that might make him feel a little less out of place. He was heading to the deodorant section when something unusual caught his eye.

It was a sleek, black can of deodorant sitting alone on a shelf. Eclipse™ it was called, with the tagline: "Unleash your potential."

Nathan chuckled at the marketing slogan. "Sure, right," he muttered. He had no reason to believe that some fancy deodorant could change his life, but he figured it was worth a try. After all, he was desperate enough to give anything a shot.

As he sprayed the deodorant under his arms, a strange tingling sensation washed over him. Nathan shook his head, laughing at himself. Maybe it was some sort of psychological thing, he thought—his imagination running wild. He glanced at himself in the mirror and froze.

His reflection was… different.

His hair—messy and unkempt just moments ago—was now styled into a perfect wavy middle part, dark brown strands flowing effortlessly in a way that seemed entirely new. His face was sharper, more defined, and somehow more… masculine. His eyes no longer looked tired and worn-out but bright and confident. And his posture—his shoulders were broader, his chest fuller—he stood taller, more at ease.

Nathan blinked. Was this some kind of weird trick of the lighting? He reached up to touch his hair, but his fingers only confirmed what he feared: it wasn’t just his imagination. He was different. His clothes had changed too—gone was his oversized graphic tee and cargo shorts. Now, he wore a tight black compression shirt that showed off a toned chest, a sleek grey hoodie, a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly, and a letterman jacket draped casually over his shoulders. His shoes—new white trainers—looked like something right out of a sports magazine.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, "what the hell is going on?"

A sudden movement caught his eye, and when he turned, he saw a group of cheerleaders walking toward him. A few of them—Liana, Amanda, and Jenna—had been in his chemistry class earlier. But they'd never looked his way before. Now, as they approached, their eyes lit up with recognition. Or maybe it was something else… admiration?

"Hey there, Nathan," Liana said with a playful smile. "Wow, you look… different."

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was deeper now, smoother, more self-assured. "Yeah, I guess I’ve… changed a little."

Amanda giggled, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Changed? You look like you’ve had a total makeover or something. I mean, you used to hide behind those glasses and all that—what are you doing now, hitting the gym?"

Nathan tried to think of a reply, but his mind was a little foggy. He didn’t recognize himself anymore, but he couldn’t help but feel good about the attention. He could feel his chest puffing out, his muscles subtly flexing under the tight shirt, as though his body was responding to the change.

"Yeah," he said with a grin that felt more natural than he expected. "I’ve been hitting the gym… working on a few things."

Liana stepped closer, her eyes glinting with interest. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. You should come hang out with us at the game this weekend. We’ve got a big pep rally, and it could be fun. You’d fit right in with the team now."

Nathan blinked. Hang out with them? The cheerleaders? He was just a nerdy kid who kept to himself. But the idea of being part of their world—their confident, carefree world—was suddenly too tempting to ignore. He felt a surge of something that felt like excitement. And… pride? A new sense of self-confidence he couldn’t quite explain.

"I’d like that," he said without hesitation, the words coming out effortlessly. "I’ll be there."

The days that followed felt like a whirlwind for Nathan. In a matter of days, he’d gone from being the awkward, socially-inept loner to one of the most talked-about guys at Westbrook High. His new look and newfound swagger made him the center of attention. The cheerleaders treated him like one of their own, and he soon found himself hanging out with them after school, practicing football moves with the jocks, and getting invited to parties where people actually wanted him around.

But the more Nathan embraced his new persona, the more he realized how much he was changing—not just physically, but mentally. He wasn’t the shy, introverted guy anymore. He was Max Hunter, the popular, athletic jock with a cocky attitude to match. His confidence quickly turned to arrogance, and before long, he was acting like the kind of guy he used to despise.

"Yo, check this out," Max said one afternoon, tossing a football up and down in front of his football buddies, Blake and Trevor. "This is how it’s done, alright?" He spun the ball effortlessly in his hands before tossing it across the field, landing it perfectly in Blake’s arms.

Blake threw him a high-five. "Damn, Max, you’ve been killing it lately. You're the new king around here."

Max grinned, his eyes flashing with arrogance. "Damn straight. It’s all about putting in the work and looking good while doing it. Don't know why I wasted all that time reading comics before."

Trevor chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, you’ve changed. But in a good way."

Max gave a half-smirk. "Of course I’ve changed. I’m Max now. I’m not some nerdy little nobody anymore." He ran a hand through his hair, letting the group admire his perfect waves. "And it’s about time the world noticed."

As the week went on, Max’s new life was in full swing. He’d been casually hooking up with pretty much every cheerleader in school. It started with Liana, of course. She was beautiful, confident, and everyone’s idea of the "perfect girl." Max had charmed her with his cocky smile and athletic physique, and within days, they were seeing each other.

But as Max quickly realized, he was no longer someone who got tied down. As soon as Liana wasn’t around, he started flirting with other girls—cheerleaders, mostly—and eventually found himself in a casual, yet thrilling, rotation of hookups. He’d dated and slept with Amanda, Jenna, and even a few girls from rival schools, all while keeping up the pretense of being in a committed relationship with Liana.

The funny thing? They didn’t care. It didn’t matter how many times Max cheated on them—he was Max Hunter, and somehow, that made everything excusable. Each cheerleader, knowing full well about the others, would still smile whenever he showed up to practice, each one thinking she was the one who had his true attention. And Max let them believe it. He was the star of the show, and they were just happy to be along for the ride.

After all, when you looked like he did—when you had the physique, the style, and the swagger—you didn’t need to commit. They all wanted a piece of him, and he was more than happy to oblige.

But as Max looked in the mirror again, something clicked. He wasn’t just Nathan anymore. The person staring back at him—confident, athletic, popular—wasn’t Nathan Parker at all.

He had a new name.

"Max," he whispered, testing the name on his tongue. It felt right. Max Hunter. Strong. Powerful. The kind of guy who everyone knew, and who everyone wanted to know. A jock. The kind of guy who got the girl, the attention, and the respect.

As Max adjusted his letterman jacket and ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, he realized something: this wasn’t just a new look. It was a new life.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the person he was always meant to be.

[zot3-flopped]

Sylvia Plath did not stick her head in an oven for this! When Taylor Swift took the Grammys stage last month to claim her award for Best Pop Vocal Album for Midnights, she saw that spotlight as an opportunity to announce her 11th studio album: The Tortured Poets Department. The follow-up cut to audience members—Swift’s music industry peers, mind you—told us all that we would ever need to know, and the collective disinterest across the crowd echoed through our TVs.

Folks from all walks of life took to social media to express a multitude of reactions. Swifties clamored to their beloved monarch’s forthcoming era, while others lambasted the terminally cringe title and artwork and ridiculed Swift for making a night recognizing musical achievements across an entire industry about herself—knowing perfectly well that it would send her fanbase into a surge that would, no doubt, overpower the excitement around the ceremony itself.

Quite a few people questioned whether or not that moment suggested that a critical—definitely not commercial—tide would turn against the world’s most-famous pop star. And, perhaps it has—but, to most, it will look like nothing more than a single ripple in Swift’s ocean of successes.

Swift remained relatively hush-hush about The Tortured Poets Department up until its release, leaving her fans, admirers and haters alike with nothing but an album title to ponder about. And it’s a bad title.

If you have never been in Swift’s corner, her taking the route of labeling her next “era” as “tortured” was likely catnip for your disinterest. If you are a fan—not necessarily a Swiftie, but even just a casual lover of her best and brightest work—you might be beside yourself about the first Swift album title longer than one word in 14 years.

In terms of popularity—certainly not always in terms of quality—no musician has been bigger this century than Swift, which makes it impossible to really buy into the “torture” of it all.

This is not to say that Swift being the most famous person in the world makes her immune to having multi-dimensional feelings of heartbreak, mental illness or what-have-you.

But, she has made the choice—as a 34-year-old adult—to take those complex, universal familiars and monetize them into a wardrobe she can wear for whatever portion of her Eras Tour setlist she opts to dedicate to the material.

Torture is fashion to Taylor Swift, and she wears her milieu dully. This album will surely get comparisons to Rupi Kaur’s poetry, either for its simplicity, empty language, commodification or all of the above.

And, sure, there are parallels there, especially in how The Tortured Poets Department, too, is going to set the art of poetry back another decade—as Swift’s naive call-to-arms of her own milky-white sorrow rings in like some quintessential “I am going to take pictures of a typewriter on my desk and have a Pinterest mood-board of Courier New font” iPhone fodder. 2013 called and it wants it capricious, suburban girl-who-is-taking-a-gap-year wig back!

Soaking our book reports in coffee or having our moms burn the edges with a kitchen lighter cannot come back into fashion; the cyclical notions of culture cannot make the space for such retreads.

There is nothing poetic about a billionaire—who, mind you, threatens legal action against a Twitter account for tracking her destructive private jet paths—telling stadiums of thousands of people every night that she sees and adores them.

Tavi Gevinson says it well in her Fan Fiction zine: “When 80,000 people are also crying, you become less special, too.” If Swift can return to one of her dozen beach houses across the world, kick up her feet and say “I’m a poet of struggle,” then who is to say that millions—maybe billions—of people with access to a notes app and a social media account won’t dream that dream, too?

Maybe that looks like a net-positive, but it’s inherently damning and destructive to take an art form that has long stood on the shoulders of resistance, of love and of opposition to power, systematic injustice and climate warfare and boil it down to the new defining era of your own 10-digit revenue empire. “My culture is not your costume,” yada, etc.

The Tortured Poets Department does begin with a shred of hope that, just maybe, Swift knows what she’s talking about—as she sneaks in a cheeky “all of this to say,” textbook transitional phrasing for poets, on opening track “Fortnight.”

But “Fortnight” unmasks itself quickly as a heady vat of pop nothingness, though it isn’t all Swift’s fault. “I was a functioning alcoholic, ‘til nobody noticed my new aesthetic,” she muses, attempting to bridge the gap between a behind-the-scenes life and on-stage performance—only for it to occur while propped up against the most dog-water, uninspired synth arrangement you could possibly imagine.

Between producer Jack Antonoff’s atrocious backing instrumental and the Y2K-era, teen dramedy echo chamber of a vocal harmony provided by out-of-place guest performer Post Malone, “Fortnight” chokes on the vomit of its own opaqueness.

“I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary,” Swift muses, and it sounds like satire. This is your songwriter of the century? Open the schools.

The Tortured Poets Department title-track features some of Swift’s worst lyricism to-date, including the irredeemable, relentlessly cringe “You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate, we declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist / I scratch your head, you fall asleep like a tattooed golden retriever” lines glazed atop some synthesizers and drums that just ring in as hollow, unfascinating costuming.

Aside from the Puth nod, which I can only discern as a joke (given the fact that he is one of the 150-most streamed artists in the world and is one of the blandest pop practitioners alive—I don’t care if he can figure out the pitch of any sound you throw at him), I think Antonoff should stick to guitar-playing. Get that man away from a keyboard, I’m begging you.

Synths can be, if you use them correctly, one of the most emotional and provocative instruments in any musician’s tool-box. There’s a reason why keyboards defined the 1980s; they rebelled against the very oppressive nature existing outside of the cultural company they kept. There’s resistance in electronic music that, while they brandish an aesthetic that, to a layman’s ears, seems like technicolor hues for any infectious pop track, it’s a genre that aches to tell its own story. That is simply not the case here, and that electronica hangs Swift out to dry when she drags us through the lukewarm “I laughed in your face and said, ‘You’re not Dylan Thomas, I’m not Patti Smith’ / This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel, we’re modern idiots” lines, only to hit us with a softly sung F-bomb that sounds like a billionaire’s rendition of that one Miranda Cosgrove podcast clip.

I used to rag pretty heavily on Reputation—mostly because I thought (and still do, mostly) that it sounded like Swift had given up on making interesting, progressive pop music; that, in the wake of her (arguably) best album, 1989, it seemed like she’d lost the plot on where to go next. But as she’s put out Midnights and The Tortured Poets Department back-to-back, I find myself clamoring for the Reputation-era more than ever—at least seven years ago, Swift wrote songs like she had something to prove and even more to lose.

That was the always-obvious charm of Reputation, even despite the downsides—that she took a big swing from the echelons of her own musical immortality, that the comforts of winning every award and selling out the biggest venues in the world were no longer pillowing her aspirations. Even though that swing didn’t land, she still made it in the first place—and Swift is at her best either when she is clawing upwards (Reputation) or faced with nowhere to go but into the studio and noodle with the bare-bones of her own sensibilities (folklore).

You get something like The Tortured Poets Department when the artist making it no longer feels challenged, where she strikes out looking.

The mid-ness of The Tortured Poets Department will not be a net-loss for Swift. She will sell out arenas and get her streams until she elects to quit this business (a phrase decidedly not in her vocabulary, surely).

She will sell more merch bundles than vinyl plants have the capacity to make, and rows of variant LP copies will haunt the record aisles of Target stores just as long as Midnights has—if not longer.

Perhaps, in five or six years’ time, we will speak of this record just as we now do of Reputation. But right now, it is obvious that Swift no longer feels challenged to be good. The Tortured Poets Department is the mark of an artist now interested in seeing how much their empire can atone for the sins of mediocrity.

Can Swift win another Album of the Year Grammy simply because she released a record during the eligibility period? The Tortured Poets Department reeks of “because I can,” not “because I should.”

On “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can),” Swift tries stepping into the shoes of the country renegades who came before her—the Tammy Wynettes and Loretta Lynns of the world. But her self-aggrandizing inflation of importance, glinting through via a seismically-bland bridge, is backed by a minimal set dressing of guitar, drum machine and keys.

“Good boy, that’s right, come close,” she sings. “I’ll show you Heaven if you’ll be an angel—all mine. Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man. No, really, I can.” On “Florida!!!,” Swift calls upon Florence + the Machine to help her sing the worst chorus of 2024: “Florida is one hell of a drug / Florida, can I use you up?”

Even Welch, who is a fantastic pop singer-songwriter in her own right, delivers a grossly watery verse: “The hurricane with my name, when it came I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away.”

Not even the typos on the Spotify promotional materials for this album could have foretold such offenses. I won’t even get into the sonics, because Antonoff just rewrites the same soulless patterns every time.

What separates The Tortured Poets Department from something like Reputation is that, on the latter, Swift made it known what was at stake and who she was making that album for—herself, in the aftermath of her greatest long-standing criticisms (“Look What You Made Me Do” triumphs exactly because of this).

On The Tortured Poets Department, there is a striking level of moral nothingness. The stakes are practically non-existent, and the album sounds like it was made by someone who believes that they had no other choice but to finish it, as if Swift fundamentally believes that her creative measures are firmly embedded in the massive monopoly her name and brand currently hold on popular music. That’s how you get meandering pop songs about hookups, wine moms, Stevie Nicks comparisons, Jehovah’s Witness suit mentions, hollowed-out, tone-deaf nods to white-collar crime in lieu of empowerment and, topically, Barbie dolls.

(Don’t even get me started on the Anthology lyrics, which feature these absolute barn-burners: “Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto” and “My friends used to play a game where / We would pick a decade / We wished we could live in instead of this / I’d say the 1830s, but without all the racists / And getting married off for the highest bid.”) This album and its hackneyed grasps at relevance exist as “Did I just hear that?” personified, but in the most derogatory sense of the notion.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” features another low-point in Swift’s lyrical oeuvre, as she sings “I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens, ‘cause he took me out of my box”—perhaps a measure of her capitalizing on the Barbenheimer mania that none of us could escape, not even the musician who spent most of 2023 flying across the world from one country to another.

But you, us, the listener—we want to believe that Swift makes these records because she has the artistic will, drive and interest to continue giving us parts of her story in such ways that they exist as an archival of her life.

But the problem is that, on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift is packaging her life into a form that is easily consumable for the 17 or 18 years olds who pour over her music. Just because her Eras Tour film is on Disney+ doesn’t mean she has to strip her songwriting (which we know can be, and has been, phenomenal) down for the sake of it being digestible by a wide spectrum of ages.

And, sure, maybe that makes the work accessible. But on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift makes Zoomer jargon her bag—titling a song after one of the most popular video games in the world and conjuring flickers of “down bad” and “I can fix him”—and it feels like she’s cosplaying because the Fountain of Youth was out of order.

Now that Swift is in her 30s, it sounds like she is infantilizing her own audience more than ever before—that singing to them at a level that could force them to reckon with something more akin with adulthood would be some kind of kink in the coil or her consumeristic threshold, that writing lyrics that sound like they were penned by a 30-year-old would, somehow, deter the interests of the billions of people who adore her.

If making one, continuous coming-of-age album is what Swift has been doing for 15 years, folklore and evermore were hiccups in the timeline—existing as the most fully-formed renderings of Swift’s own insecurities and concerns. They mirrored our platitudes towards an uncertain future with sweet, stirring remarks about isolation and heartbreak and the unavoidable, hard-worn truth about getting older. On those records, her larger-than-life living seemed, for once, to truly feel as close to the ground as ours.

Now, though, Taylor Swift is at the top of the mountain. Far better artists have made far worse records than The Tortured Poets Department, but you can’t read between the lines of this project. There is nothing to decipher from a place of quality.

Sure, Swift’s fan base will pour over these lyrics for the rest of their lives—insisting they know, for certain, which song is about who. But you cannot place a bad album on the shoulders of lore and expect it to be rectified.

We are now left at a crossroads. Women can’t critique Swift because they’ll run the risk of being labeled a “gender traitor” for doing so. Men can’t critique her because they’ll be touted as “sexist.”

And, sure, Swift is probably too easy a punching bag in this case—and most of the time, I would argue she is undeserving of being a victim of such barbs. But, you cannot write about someone being a “tattooed golden retriever” and get away with it and still retain your title as the best songwriter of your generation. You just cannot.

Sisyphus should be glad he never got the boulder to the top of the mountain—because Taylor Swift is showing us that such immortality and success ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. And, when you’re standing on the peak alone, who else is there left to hit?

In a recent interview with The Standard, Courtney Love said that Swift is “not interesting as an artist,” and I think The Tortured Poets Department proves as much. She has nothing to fight for, no doubters left to drown.

So where does she turn? Well, to boredoms of celebrity thinly veiled as sorrow everyone and their mother can latch onto—because we’ve all had to “ditch the clowns, get the crown” at some point in our lives, right?

The billionaire is having an identity crisis, but there are no social media apps for her to buy up. So she sings like Lana Del Rey and writes meta-self-referential songs about looking like Stevie Nicks.

What’s hollow about The Tortured Poets Department is that the real torture is just how unlivable these songs really are. No one can resonate with “So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street, crash the party like a record, scratch as I scream ‘Who’s afraid of little old me?’ You should be.” And normally, that wouldn’t be an end-all-be-all for a pop record—but when your brand is built on copious levels of “I’m just like you!” as the demigod saying it to their fans does so from a multi-million-dollar production set, it’s hard to not feel nauseated by the overlording, overbearing sense of heavy-handed detritus we’re tasked with sifting through on The Tortured Poets Department.

Love’s words to Lana, her advice to “take seven years off,” should be applied to Swift. Now, that doesn’t mean that, to make a good album, you must sit on material for years and labor extensively through the sketching, shaping and recording in order for it to be transcendentally landmark. But it’s obvious now that not even Taylor Swift wants to be the head of an empire—that she, too, can’t outrun the damning fate of being plum out of ideas by hopping in her jet and skirting off to God knows where.

See you at the Grammys.

****

[0omillo0]

Keep it secret | Jeongin x Reader

Even tho your relationship is secret, Jeongin asks you to come with him at the milano fashion week. You have to try your best to perfectly fake being a manager.

a/n: you can tell I LOVE fashion shows!

⋆ ˚｡♡𝜗𝜚˚

The chaos of fashion week was palpable from the moment you touched down in Milan. The air buzzed with anticipation, a hum of energy that clung to the cobbled streets, and the world’s finest designers and most iconic models seemed to glide over it effortlessly. You had to remind yourself to keep your cool, though it was easier said than done when you were walking into one of the biggest events of the year — the Bottega Veneta fashion show. Not as an ordinary attendee, though. No, this time, you were walking into it as the secret girlfriend of Yang Jeongin.

Jeongin, with his signature charm and confident smile, was as much a part of the event as the models, yet your heart still fluttered when you saw him, even after months of keeping your relationship under wraps. Every stolen glance, every subtle touch shared away from the limelight, had built an intimacy that you treasured, but hiding it was becoming increasingly difficult. Especially now.

You could still hear his soft voice from this morning in your head. He had smiled at you over the breakfast table, his eyes dancing with mischief, as he casually dropped the bomb.

“I want you to come with me,” he had said, his lips quirking into a smile.

“To Milan?” you had asked, nearly choking on your coffee.

“To the Bottega Veneta show at fashion week. I’ll get you in as a manager, and no one will suspect a thing.” His eyes twinkled with excitement, but you knew better. The man could have been a professional poker player with how well he masked his emotions in public, but you could tell by the way his fingers had tapped the table lightly that he was nervous.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you there — quite the opposite. He wanted nothing more than to walk arm in arm with you, to show the world that you were his. But, as one of the rising stars in the K-pop scene, there were pressures and expectations, fans and media that scrutinized every single move.

You had agreed, of course, but as you sat in the limousine that was slowly crawling toward the venue, the gravity of the situation weighed down on you. You could feel your heart thudding against your chest. Jeongin sat across from you, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his hair styled to perfection, his features sharp and striking. It wasn’t fair how effortlessly he looked like he belonged at these events, while you, draped in an elegant dress that he’d handpicked for you, felt like an imposter.

“You look stunning,” he said softly, as though reading your mind.

You blushed, glancing out the window to avoid his gaze. “Don’t say that. You’ll make it harder for me to act like your manager.”

His chuckle was low, barely audible, but it warmed you nonetheless. He leaned in, his fingers brushing yours ever so slightly. The gesture was small, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You’ll do great,” he whispered. “Just… don’t let them catch us.”

---

The fashion show was a dazzling blur of lights, music, and beautifully crafted designs. The moment you stepped onto the plush carpet leading into the venue, cameras flashed in every direction, capturing every movement of the celebrities and fashion icons in attendance. You kept your distance from Jeongin, trailing behind as any good manager would, though your heart tugged with every step that separated you.

Every now and then, you felt his eyes on you — a fleeting glance here, a brief brush of hands there — all while pretending you were nothing more than a member of his team. He greeted the designers, smiled for the cameras, and even posed with a few celebrities, his face lighting up in that way only he could manage.

You tried to focus on your role, to blend into the background as you observed the crowd. But every time your fingers accidentally brushed against his, or your shoulders bumped as you navigated the tight spaces, a spark ignited. It was intoxicating, the way the most innocent of touches held so much weight. The world may not have known, but between the two of you, every glance, every whisper was charged with a secret.

At one point during the show, when the lights dimmed for a brief intermission, Jeongin leaned over. His voice was barely a murmur, his lips just inches from your ear. “You’re handling this better than I thought.”

You smiled, trying to suppress the warmth that spread across your cheeks. “You’re not making it easy.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. But I can’t help it.”

The fabric of his hand brushed against yours once again, but before either of you could react, a photographer’s flash went off close by, reminding you both of where you were. Jeongin quickly pulled back, his expression shifting into one of professionalism as if the moment had never happened.

But it had, and you felt the lingering effect long after.

---

The after-party was another test in patience. The music was loud, the champagne flowing freely as models and designers mingled with guests in an opulent ballroom that overlooked the city. Jeongin had kept his distance for most of the evening, busy making the rounds and schmoozing with industry insiders. Every now and then, he would send you a discreet smile or a playful wink, but it was never more than that.

You couldn’t wait for the night to be over. The tension between you two was almost unbearable, a tight string that threatened to snap at any moment. And when it finally did, it wasn’t in the way you expected.

As the party began to wind down and people started to trickle out, Jeongin found his way back to you. His hand grazed yours briefly before pulling back, a reminder that you still had to be careful. "Ready to leave?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning the room.

"More than ready," you replied, your voice barely audible over the music.

Together, you slipped out of the venue, avoiding the main exit where paparazzi were camped out, waiting for a glimpse of any celebrity they could get. Instead, you followed Jeongin through a quieter side exit, where a limousine was waiting. The driver opened the door for you both, and as soon as it shut behind you, the pretense of professionalism dissolved.

The moment you were out of sight, Jeongin’s hand found yours again, but this time he didn’t pull away. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he let out a sigh, his body relaxing into the seat.

“That was torture,” he admitted, turning to face you.

You laughed, leaning your head against the back of the seat. “You’re telling me. I think I nearly forgot how to breathe back there.”

He smiled, his eyes softening as they roamed your face. “But you did amazing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” you teased, though your voice was softer now, more intimate.

Jeongin shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours, his hand now resting fully on your thigh. “I hated every second of pretending you weren’t mine,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and before you knew it, you were leaning in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft at first, slow, like the two of you were still testing the waters even though you had kissed a hundred times before. But it didn’t stay that way for long.

The tension that had built up throughout the night — the stolen glances, the brief touches, the whispered words — all came crashing down as your lips met his. The kiss deepened, your hands sliding up his chest and into his hair, pulling him closer. Jeongin groaned softly against your lips, his hands slipping to your waist as he tugged you into him.

The limousine felt smaller by the second as you struggled to get as close to him as possible, the weight of the evening melting away with every kiss, every touch. His hand slid up the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you impossibly closer, his lips never leaving yours.

“I missed this,” he murmured between kisses, his voice breathless. “Missed you.”

You smiled against his lips. “We were together all night.”

“Not like this,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against your jaw as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“No,” you agreed softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Not like this.”

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, just held each other close, basking in the warmth of the moment. The city lights outside flickered by, casting fleeting shadows across the inside of the limo, but in this space — in this quiet, stolen moment — it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

As the car rolled on through the streets of Milan, Jeongin’s arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you close to his chest as he kissed your forehead. "One day," he murmured against your skin, his voice barely a whisper. "One day, we won’t have to hide anymore."

You smiled, closing your eyes and sinking into his embrace, content with the secret world you had carved out for yourselves, even if just for tonight.

"One day…" you whispered back.

[factcheckingmclennon]

pyramus & thisbe, the cats: fact or fiction?

starting this blog off on a positive note because when i deep dived & found out this was real i was floored because it does genuinely sound like fanfiction but...

"did paul mccartney really have cats named pyramus & thisbe after the lovers him and john played?"

and let's go to a read more for the source/deep dive!

so this is one that floats around a lot un-sourced. in fact, when doing this deep dive, i found quite a few fan forums INSISTING it was fake because they only ever see mclennon shippers saying it. but lo and behold........

in this interview from Animals' Agenda, 1999:

P: Oh, I’d love to tell you about the animals. I personally never had a pet growing up, because my mom and dad both worked. And even the day we saw free puppies going and my brother and I thought, “Definite, we’ll get one,” we couldn’t have one. So my first pet was when I was living alone as one of the Beatles and I got an Old English sheepdog called Martha, and I loved her dearly, she was beautiful, she was really good for me; we were good for each other. I remember John Lennon coming ’round and saying, “God, I’ve never seen you with an animal before.” I was being so affectionate it took him aback, he’d not seen that side of my character. Because you don’t do that with humans-not as obviously anyway. And then I had two cats called Pyramus and Thisbe, which showed my literate bent, and then I had three-they all had to be cool names, of course-that were called Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And then as a family, Linda and I, after Martha died, we then got another Old English sheepdog and we eventually had a litter by the one after her. We kept two of the puppies, so that meant we’ve got three now. I have four dogs at home, three English sheepdogs and Stella’s dog, the mutt. She’d hate me to say that!

(source)

now... did he gift john pyramus?

i can't find a source on that one that isn't a mclennon blog/forum. however there's just not enough to prove it one way or the other & it's not out of the realm of possibility that he would've given pyramus to john, especially since there don't seem to be any photos of paul & pyramus even though he mentions the cat as one that he owned. also, i do feel like i've seen some quote from john where he just casually mentions the cat by name floating around? but i can't find it, so if anyone wants to add it, go ahead! for now, that part of this is getting rated....

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Can I request for an blurb?? Never requested to anyone but I have this idea!!

So like H nd reader is in a relationship but H being famous nd all so because of that media nd his fans doesn't know he is in relationship nd to hide that thing he had to do PR relationship with someone else!! Nd he doesn't acknowledge that he had being ignoring reader nd spending more time with that pr girl!! So one day H came home nd reader was crying nd saying to H "do you love me?? Nd saying please don't leave me" nd H assure her she is it nd in few months he proposed the reader by saying how she is the only girl for him nd to never doubt his love for her!!

Ahh so sorry for such a lengthy request!! Nd it's okay if you don't wanna write!!:)

words: 4k (sorry!!!)

warnings: angst, lots of it. a fake pr, crying, some smut too. happy ending.

i changed this a bit, especially the ending. hope you don't hate this!

***

"I miss you," you whispered into the dark emptiness of your bedroom, clutching Harry's pillow tight. Another restless night alone while he was off being pictured with that pretty model for their fake relationship.

When would this torment end? Your heart ached constantly from the secrecy and lies shredding your real romance with Harry. All you wanted was to be open about your love...

It had started off so blissfully a year ago when you literally crashed into Harry outside of a coffee shop. You'd been rushing out the door, distracted and clumsy as always, when you rammed straight into a solid wall of human. Your face went bright red as you scrambled to pick up your scattered belongings.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I'm such a disaster, I seriously need to watch where I'm going..." you babbled, finally looking up into the kindest pair of green eyes you'd ever seen.

The man was watching you with an amused tilt to his soft lips. Something about his tousled chestnut hair and casual style felt vaguely familiar, though you couldn't quite place him. 

"No worries at all, it's my fault. Are you alright?" He asked in a deep, sumptuous voice that made you shiver.

As realization dawned, your mortified expression deepened. "Oh wow...you're...I just headbutted Harry Styles in the stomach."

He laughed easily, dimples flashing as he bent to help gather your dropped papers. "Very impressive ab attack there. Been taking self-defense classes?"

You flushed again at his playful teasing, finding yourself surprisingly flustered by this international superstar's carefree charm. Most celebrities seemed to carry an air of inflated ego, but Harry radiated a humble warmth.

"Do you, er, come to this cafe often?" He asked curiously as you both stood. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear shyly, you shook your head. "No, I don't. I was just stopping in for a coffee on my way to work."

"I see." His gem-green eyes slowly traced over your features, as if admiring a fine work of art. The intensity of his gaze sent a tendril of heated awareness washing through you.

Before you could think better of it, you blurted out the first thing on your mind. "Would you...maybe want to get coffee? With me, I mean? Right now?"

Harry's full lips curved in an amused smile. "I'd love that, actually."

You could scarcely believe this was reality as you led him back inside the cafe, trying not to visibly swoon at the casual brush of his fingertips against the small of your back. For the next hour you talked and laughed more freely than you had in ages, feeling utterly intoxicated by Harry's mere presence. Everything about him radiated authenticity and vulnerability, a creative wildness simmering beneath his polished exterior. You felt like you could be yourself with him instead of carefully cultivating persona upon persona as you did with most people.

By the time you forced yourself to reluctantly leave for work, exchanging numbers with Harry, you were positively giddy. Dancing through your day in a euphoric bubble, you hardly noticed the pitying looks from coworkers.

"You know he's just gonna ghost you, right?" Julie the receptionist said flatly when you told her about your morning coffee date. "Have you seen how many girls fall all over themselves trying to get Harry Styles' attention? You're out of your league, sweetie."

You frowned at her harsh dose of reality. As if you weren't well aware of your lack of impressiveness compared to supermodels and actresses in Harry's orbit. Still, you couldn't shake the magnetic connection you'd felt with him, the bone-deep certainty that he was someone truly special. 

Much to everyone's shock, Harry didn't ghost you. In fact, a simple text from him that evening asking how your day was led to a rapid-fire exchange of messages stretching long into the night. Over the next few weeks, your life revolved around hushed phone calls, secret rendezvous at out-of-the-way cafes and restaurants, and marathon conversations revealing every layer of one another.

Harry was purely intoxicating - a whirlwind of brooding intensity balanced with vivid spontaneity and an excellent sense of humor. He seemed utterly fascinated by every small detail you revealed about your life, respectful in a way that made him feel like a wonderful dream. And you fell harder and harder for Harry with each passing day. Something about his quiet attentiveness and insatiable curiosity about you made you feel cherished in a way you'd never experienced before. Gone were the shallow, vapid interactions you were accustomed to in the dating world. With Harry, you could truly be yourself - he somehow coaxed out your authentic self that you typically kept heavily guarded. 

At the same time, you were in absolute awe of the whirlwind of depth and experiences that defined Harry's life. His stories of touring the globe, writing deeply personal lyrics, collaborating with musical icons - they all painted a vivid portrait of an artistic soul soaring to brilliant creative heights. You drank in every glimpse into his inner world like a lifeline to another realm of existence.

Yet whenever you'd express feeling unworthy of his profound love and admiration, Harry was quick to sweetly rebuff you.

"Y/N, you dazzle me more than anything I've experienced in this mad career of mine," he insisted one evening over a cozy home-cooked meal you'd prepared. Catching your hand across the table, his green gaze pinned you in place. "Don't you see? Your warmth, your light, your way of finding detailed beauty in such seemingly ordinary moments - that's what enchants me. You make me want to shed all the superficial trappings of fame and just...be."

You felt yourself falling deeper and deeper, tumbling into an intimacy more profound than you'd ever imagined. If Harry hadn't told you himself that he'd only had a few relatively tame celebrity girlfriends in the past, you'd never have believed his immense experience from the way he worshiped you.

"So responsive, so gorgeous," he rasped against your swollen lips, calloused fingers stroking delirious patterns over your sensitized skin. "God, I could spend eternity between your legs”

Those stolen passionate encounters, tangled up and gasping one another's names with wild abandon, only added to your lovestruck infatuation. You felt deeply seen and cherished on a soul level, like you were both puzzle pieces finally slotting seamlessly together.

In the dreamy, lust-addled haze of new love, you almost didn't notice the growing tension in Harry's manner as typical relationship pressures began encroaching. Paparazzi grew increasingly aggressive in tracking his day-to-day movements whenever out in public. Well-meaning friends expressed concerns about the obvious strain he was under from lack of a romantic life in the public eye. And perhaps most troubling, his management team forcefully "suggested" it was time for him to embark on a high-profile PR romance to capitalize on album promotion and touring.

Harry had looked utterly fed up that evening when he broke the news, pacing in your living room.

You watched him apprehensively. "They want you to do...what? You mean...go along with a staged relationship? Like have a beard or something?"

"No! Absolutely not, I won't do it. I won't treat you like some secret, and I refuse to fake anything in my private life for publicity."

"Harry..." you tried to soothe him, rising to your feet and rubbing his tense shoulders. "I understand the pressures you're under-"

"No, you don't!" He rounded on you with surprising intensity. "You don't get it, Y/N. You are the best, most precious thing in my world - my safe harbor from all the bullshit fake expectations. I won't sully what we have with PR lies. I just...won't."

His words were at once incredibly romantic and terribly naive. As much as you longed to stay cocooned in the warm, intimate bubble of your relationship, you knew the real world would inevitably intrude. Harry was a public figure on a massive scale, his romantic life constantly scrutinized. For the sake of his livelihood, he might not have any choice but to bend to the publicity machine's demands.

***

Those first seeds of conflict only blossomed further over the following weeks as the PR relationship issue remained unresolved. You did your best to stay supportive and understanding, but it was a challenge keeping your own hurt and insecurities at bay.

"I just don't see what the big deal is," Harry groused one evening over a tense dinner. "So what if they want me to go out a few times with some model or actress, let the paps get pictures? It doesn't mean anything to me."

You poked at your food sullenly. "It's not that simple though, is it? Couldn't something like that, even if fake, seriously complicate things for us?"

He reached across to squeeze your hand. "Baby, you know you're the only person who matters to me. A little PR sham doesn't change how utterly mad I am about you."

But it did change things, whether Harry wanted to admit it or not. The striking difference in how he treated you, his real partner behind closed doors, compared to how he'd have to pretend with someone else for public consumption - it stung deep.

One night shortly after, you were cuddled up watching a movie when Harry's phone started incessantly buzzing. Pulling it out with a furrow in his brow, he quickly scanned a series of messages and emailed photos. An unmistakable look of chagrin crossed his face.

"What is it?" You asked, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

Harry sighed, shoulders slumping. "Looks like the publicity team is really pushing ahead. They've, uh, they've arranged for me to be caught having dinner with Kendall Jenner tomorrow night."

Your heart plummeted as an uneasy feeling settled over you. This was really happening - right before your eyes, your private intimacy was being infiltrated with PR lies.

"So you're...going to be going out with her? In public, on a fake date, while the whole world watches?" You tried and failed to keep the hurt out of your voice.

"Not a date!" Harry was quick to insist, shifting closer to pull you into his arms. "Y/N, you have to understand this doesn't mean anything. It's all just smoke and mirrors, love. You're my world, I promise."

You wanted so desperately to believe him. But the lingering ache still took root somewhere deep inside as you watched the paparazzi frenzy ignite over Harry's "outing" with Kendall. Photos of the two models laughing intimately over drinks and dinner plastered every gossip rag and website for weeks. 

It soon became a narrative that followed Harry everywhere - probing reporters shouting questions about whether he and Kendall were officially an item now. Rabid fans prying him online, trying to get every new shred of detail on the new, perfect couple.

"Hey, come here," Harry murmured soothingly whenever he saw the sadness and uncertainty cloud your eyes. He'd pull you into his chest, peppering kisses over your face. "I'm yours, baby, only yours. None of that bloody circus matters to me, I hope you know that."

You wanted to have his quiet confidence, truly. The way Harry could compartmentalize the fake PR relationship and his very real feelings for you with such clear separation. But it didn't stop the anxiety slowly gnawing away at your trust and security.

Increasingly, special romantic gestures from Harry felt like overcompensation for all the public affection he was faking with Kendall. When he'd surprise you with extravagant getaways to exotic locales, you couldn't fully relax into the pampering without wondering how much of it was just hiding guilt. And his constant reaffirmations of his love and devotion started ringing hollow amidst the growing circus his life was becoming.

The worst of it came at one of his first concerts after the publicity whirlwind began. You'd been so looking forward to experiencing the screaming crowds in a whole new light as Harry's actual partner, not just a casual fan. But the huge video screens kept flashing candid photos and fake couple shots of Harry holding hands and hugging Kendall, selling their phony romance to the fans.

You couldn't hold back the tears slipping down your cheeks as Harry serenaded the arena full of thousands, having no choice but to play along with the charade on the world stage. He caught your eye for just a second during the encore, and his smile instantly morphed into a look of sheer sorrow and guilt, looking at your tear-ridden face. He knew you, even if he stood so much away from you.  But there was nothing he could do then except push forward with the manufactured story.

That night after the concert, an emotional Harry fell into your arms the moment you were alone in his dressing room. He clung to you desperately, peppering apologies across your tear-stained and defeated face.

"God, Y/N, I'm so sorry," he rasped, emerald eyes awash with remorse and frustration. "Seeing you hurting like that because of this bloody sham...it killed me. You have to know how madly in love I am with only you."

You nodded, finding it hard to speak past the lump in your throat. Of course you knew, deep down, that Harry loved you wholly. His attentiveness, the intense spark of intimacy and passion between you, the emotional connection - it was all achingly real. This PR relationship was merely a toxic byproduct of his celebrity, something massively unfortunate but not defining your actual bond.

And yet...Harry couldn't deny the growing chaos enveloping his personal life. The fake romance was now Priority One to his team, staged and milked for every ounce of publicity. Constant video calls and strategy sessions mapped out each calculated move - where Harry and Kendall would stage a coffee run for the paps, when they should be papped holding hands emerging from a nightclub, how often they should update their couple-y Instagram shots together.

Harry grew increasingly sullen and withdrawn the more deeply engrossed he became in maintaining the facade. And you couldn't ignore the mounting jealousy and hurt rapidly corroding, chipping away your self-esteem and faith in the relationship.

***

"Maybe...maybe we should take a break," you finally broached one afternoon after an especially grueling set of publicity demands. Harry's head whipped up from where he was moodily going over plans for an upcoming awards show appearance.

"What? Why would you say that?" There was an edge of panic in his tone. He looked shocked, but you knew it was a long time coming.

You shrugged. "Harry, can you honestly tell me you don't resent me at all for the toll this whole – charade has taken? That some part of you doesn't wish you could just live your life freely without me holding you back from giving publicity stunts like this your full effort?"

He immediately rushed to gather you into his arms. "No! Never, Y/N. You're my world, my everything. Without you, all this would mean nothing!”

Burying your face into the strength of his shoulder, you wished you could cling to his words and find comfort there once more. But the turmoil swirling around you was rapidly becoming too overpowering.

"I'm just...I'm so tired of feeling like an afterthought, Harry. Of being the dirty little secret you have to hide away while flaunting someone else to the world. I can't keep living like this, sinking into doubt and jealousy constantly."

Harry's arms tightened around you convulsively. "Don't say that, my love. You could never be an afterthought to me. I need you here, by my side, to keep me grounded and remind me of what's truly real."

Though his words warmed your heart, you found yourself pulling back to gaze at him searchingly. "Then prove it. Enough with the grand romantic gestures, the desperate promises. I need you to actually fight for me, for us, instead of just going along with everything. Either that, or–” the lump in your throat deepend, “ –you can let me go”

Harry was taken aback by your words. But still, there was a part of him that didn;t fully understand what you were going through.  "You know it's not that simple, Y/N. One wrong move that tanks this publicity team's plans and my entire career could crater."

"So what?" you challenged, tilting your chin defiantly. Harry wasn't the only one being forced to make impossible choices. "Is the career really more important than your actual life, your happiness in a real relationship? Because I love you with everything, but I can't keep sacrificing my sense of self-worth and spinning out into reckless jealousy every waking moment just so you can have the best of both worlds."

"I...you have to understand, none of this publicity shite actually matters to me. Not really. It's all a smokescreen that will fade away eventually. But you, us - this love is my truth, my be all and end all. Don't give up on me, baby. I'll fix this, I swear it."

You wanted so badly to believe the desperation in Harry's voice. But the ache of sadness and insecurity had burrowed too deeply. What once would have swept you up in romantic adulation now just hollowed you out further.

"I really hope you can, Harry," you rasped, pulling away with immense reluctance. "Because I can't keep holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop much longer. This half-life just isn't enough anymore.I can't, Harry.I can't keep living like this."

Harry looked hurt now. He knew it was only a while before it all came shattering down, but the thought of Y/N walking away felt like a shard of glass lodged in his heart. 

"From this moment on, things change," he rasped. "No more bowing to bloody publicists and image managers. My truth, our bond, comes before anything else. You're about to become my permanent bloody shadow, love."

A smile curved your lips at his words. Reaching up to trace the sharp edge of his chiseled jaw, you felt a wave of relief and renewed hope. "Well, I do make a devilishly charming shadow, if I say so myself."

Harry's gaze drank you in like a man rewarded with an infinite oasis after years of directionless wandering. "That you do, baby. No more hiding that radiant light of yours, yeah? "

He sealed the vow with a kiss that seared straight through to your bones. You clung to him, every brush of his hands and velvet tongue rekindling the deepest intimacy between you two. 

When you finally pulled apart, chasing oxygen, Harry made an immediate move to sweep you up into his arms like a blushing bride. "Come on, love. Let's go remind the world of who they're dealing with, shall we?"

You looped your arms around his neck with a giddy laugh as he strode through the penthouse with you cradled protectively to his chest. Despite his determination, his hold was soft, cherishing. Like you were something infinitely precious to be handled with utmost care, or you would break.

Without explanation, Harry marched you both out and down to where a sleek black car was out front, the doorman quickly ushering you inside the backseat. Once the privacy partition rolled up, Harry immediately turned to you.

"I mean it, every word," he stated plainly. "No more deceptions or hiding our connection. From here it's full transparency and only the truth."

you felt overcome by tenderness and awe. "So...does that mean an end to the fake relationship with Kendall then?"

"Among other things," Harry confirmed without hesitation. To your surprise, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and thumbed it open to the camera app, situating you both in the frame. "We're going to document and share every moment of us, the real us. Let my supporters and fans see who truly holds my heart before all others."

You blinked in astonishment as he looped an arm around your waist, pulling your bodies flush as the camera captured. Was this really happening? After all your heartbreak and insecurity brought on by that disastrous PR relationship, was Harry truly throwing it all to the wind?

That was clearly his intention as he leaned in to nuzzle your cheek dotingly, snapping pic after sweet pic of shameless embraces and intimate caresses being exchanged between you. Each time the shutter clicked he murmured loving adorations, his focus immovable.

"Gorgeous girl...my forever woman...heart and soul of my entire world..."

You blinked back tears. When was the last time you'd felt this elevated by Harry's worshiping? Your shaky exhales intermingled hotly as he maneuvered you fully into his lap, slanting his mouth hungrily across yours.

"My everything," he growled against your lips before kissing you breathless.

"Harry..." you finally managed to gasp out as you pulled apart, "what are you doing? If you post those shots, then-"

"Then the whole world will know I'm mad for you, and only you," he said, with nothing but seriousness and devotion in his voice,  "No more closeting my actual partner away like a mistress to be hidden from disapproving eyes. You're the only romantic relationship fully grounded in truth that the world needs to be focused on."

You shivered at the assurance in his tone. This was really it - the definitive line in the sand. And with Harry looking at you the way he was, you couldn't find it in yourself to argue or question further. You simply melted into his heat, losing yourself in the incredible feeling of being staked as his claim.

With a few taps, Harry posted the first of intimate photos and captions that set the internet instantly ablaze. Breathy confessions of forever love intermingled with searing makeout shots - it was a rush of letting go of months of pent-up passion and adoration for the world to finally bear witness.

All the while, Harry refused to tear his stare from worshiping every inch of your body. His broad palms trailing over the exposed curves of your hips, waist, the swell of your breasts - anchoring you fully into the present.

Your social media was immediately swamped by a plethora of comments, tags and speculation over the tsunami wave of intimate reveals. Harry's fanbase seemed to have divided between celebration and outrage over their beloved idol being so thoroughly claimed by an average nobody. 

More jarring, however, was the media/PR teams' explosive reactions. Both your phones blew up with frantic calls and enraged messages demanding explanations and emergency meetings. As expected, the team working to orchestrate Harry's fake relationship with Kendall were melting down over the sheer negligence of you both, and damage control now being initiated.

For a long while, you both simply ignored it, too immersed in devouring the rebirth of your connection to spare any attention elsewhere. You reveled in being subjected to Harry's fervent, undivided worshipping as his fingertips and lips swept across every velvet hollow and slope. His sensual assault was purposefully overwhelming, etching his permanent claim over your quivering form.

"They'll keep the noise up for a while, try spreading all sorts of misinformation and manipulation to regain control of the narrative," Harry finally mumbled without breaking the rhythm of stripping you bare and lavishing undivided attention over each exposed new expanse of satin flesh.

You shivered beneath him, and he tilted your chin up with a knuckle to capture your gaze, "But none of that shite matters now, okay? All that matters is that I’m all yours now. Only yours.:

And you were never letting him go.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this!

feedback | masterlist

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli

@tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely

@whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @harryhitties

@mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett @daphnesutton @youcan-nolonger-run @prettythingsworld   @chesthairrry

@becauseheartsgetbroken-hs   @hisparentsgallerryy @storyschanging   @selluequestrian   @islakp217 @swiftmendeshoran @princessaxoxo @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hermoinelove @chronicallybubbly @angeldavis777

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch.4

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: themes of injury, depression, and hopelessness. 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: You all know the drill, thank you @tobbi-loves-levi for going over this chapter with me and helping me make it everything I wanted 💗

previous / masterlist / dividers

An inviting herbal scent fills the air in Levi’s office, complemented nicely with a warm room temperature. While outside it’s quite hot around this time of June, the center is pretty consistently freezing; especially the ice rink. The printer whirls behind Levi’s office chair while he leans back with his arms stretched out to catch the papers as they slide out. He gathers them together, tapping them once on the desk before flipping open your file and placing them at the back. The start of your fifth week means you’re more than halfway through your estimated treatment plan with Levi. 

Levi spins the folder around so it’s facing you and scoots his chair in to lean over it, using his pen to point out specific milestones you have reached. “I think we should change our Wednesdays to off ice days for the remainder of our sessions.” He mentions as he flips through the pages. “Keep Mondays and Fridays as our rink days. Sound alright?” You nod in agreement, following Levi's pen as he goes through a loose schedule of goals he wants to reach over the next couple of weeks. 

“Sign here, then we can head down.” He double taps the signature line. “Oh, and you might want to think about reaching out to Tarasov again if you’re serious about getting involved once skating season begins.” 

You hadn’t considered how fast the time has gone by. Skating season starts in July and your sessions with Levi are on route to wrap up in just a few weeks. You should be happy, everything you worked for is starting to pay off and soon enough you’ll be working on getting back into competitions. Bit by bit all of your goals are being met, so why does your heart ache for more time? 

“You coming, or did you want to spend today’s session staring at my desk?” Levi asks. You’re not sure how long you went without responding to him. 

Your mind is elsewhere for the beginning of today’s session while you did your warm up basics, up until you had no choice but to put all of your mental energy into your target goal for today. Levi has you do Waltz jumps until you could do them with your eyes closed. By the time you move onto spins for the rest of your time, you think if you had to do another waltz you’d pull the hair out of your head. That’s the thing about Levi, he understands when something’s too much to handle but once he’s sure you can do it he’s not so easy on you. Funnily enough it’s one of your favorite things about him, and one of the leading reasons you can say you're making progress. He won't let you give up. 

***

On Wednesday you show up early again to watch Levi skate. Even though you know you won't be on the ice today, it’s still nice to be around it. Your fear of being turned away fades when he sees you standing at the boards and continues on with his routine anyways. Erwin shows up shortly after you and stands to your left. You can't help but be curious about him. He and Levi seem close, in fact you’ve never really seen Levi talk to anyone casually outside of erwin. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to start talking, neither of you taking your eyes off Levi. You learn that Erwin is a personal trainer based in the basketball wing of Sina, though he takes clients of any sport. He met Levi seven years ago when he first started working here because surprisingly enough, he’s a huge fan of ice sports. Soon you come to find that Erwin and Levi are a lot closer than you originally assumed. They even hangout outside of work too, though as Erwin put it, “it took some convincing.” With how reluctant Levi is to open up, you believe that. 

Levi finishes off with three consecutive jumps before gliding off towards the rink’s exit to get out of his skates.

“He adds one member to the audience and suddenly pulls out the big moves. Show off.” Erwin huffs out a laugh and thanks you for the pleasant conversation before turning and heading off.

Off-ice starts off as it usually would, stretches, ankle exercises, balance board, and spinners. Somewhere down the line you and Levi were practicing throws again. You don't know how it happened but you don’t care. It’s productive because it still helps you build back the skill of landing on your ankle and get used to the feeling of air time again. You slowly work on adding more rotations before landing and eventually Levi feels more comfortable throwing you higher. 

You dont think you’ll ever get tired of the feeling of Levi’s hands on you. It feels safe, he makes you feel light. No matter what, you're confident Levi would never put you at risk for another injury. There's no wiggle room in competitive figure skating. Everything has its order, but it doesn't feel that way with him. In a way you almost feel like he sets you free from that mindset. Even if it’s only for a small chunk of time each session. The following week, it’s now just an unspoken part of your routine.

***

You quickly learn that time is not a generous thing, the whole next week of sessions goes by much faster than you expected. You blame this on the fact that the more you worked with Levi the better you were getting. Once you started to get a handle on skating again after so much time off the ice it started to become more fun rather than something you needed to do to heal.

Every day that week, you showed up to watch Levi skate before your sessions. When you weren’t completely mesmerized by him, you took the opportunity to watch his form in real time rather than how he would present it to you during therapy. You think that helped you get things down as quickly as you are. 

This week marks the beginning of your last two weeks with Levi, and it’s all that you think about. That’s only six more sessions, two of which aren’t even on the ice. It’s not that you didn't think you were ready, no, you know you are. Levi has talked enough sense into you the last couple weeks to have you sure of that, paired with your progress he showed you in your file. It’s clear that you are recovering and building your skill back to how it was before your accident. It was scary to think about doing this without Levi, you still haven’t taken his advice on reaching out to your old coach. The second you do that it will just feel that much more real. You know how irresponsible it is to put off too, which only made it worse. 

Monday you show up to watch Levi skate as usual, quickly noticing that Erwin isn’t here. When he sees you he skates over to the board to greet you, which he usually doesn’t do. When he meets you at the boards he’s quiet for a moment, you can’t quite read the subtle expression on his face. 

“Do you want to come out here with me?” He asks, his question throwing you off a little.

“What, like early?” You ask. 

“No,” he pauses, brows furrowed lightly. Is he nervous? “To skate.” 

“You want me to skate with you?” 

“That’s what I said. Hurry up before I change my mind.” He says, pushing off the boards and skating off. That’s all you needed to hear. You pick up your bag and rush over to the bench to put your skates on, triple checking the laces before going out onto the ice with him. 

Levi meets up with you in the middle of the rink where you stand. “What should I do?” you ask, feeling lost without your usual directions. 

“Whatever you want.” Levi says “Don’t you ever skate for fun?”

You think about it, and you can honestly say that you don't. You haven’t since your accident and even before you can’t think of the last time you went ice skating for anything other than to maintain or improve your skill. “No.” You shake your head lightly. 

“Ah,” Levi hums “explains why you’re so damn hard on yourself. You know you should kind of enjoy this right?” His words sink deep, he’s right. You watch him as he zips off, all you can think to do is bits of your program from Nationals. You take out more of the extreme moves knowing Levi wouldn’t want you doing anything you haven’t worked much on during your sessions together. 

It’s slow, it’s choppy, but you landed everything you attempted. You stayed balanced on your ankle every time you tried, but it’s so hard to be reminded that it’s not the same. Thoughts creep in swiftly. How could you ever compete again? Especially when even after all the improvement you couldn’t even stitch together a smooth program. 

“It’s almost like you don’t need me anymore.” Levi comments as he meets back up with you. You wouldn’t say it outloud to him, but it only made you feel worse. It seems like Levi knows you more than you give him credit for. He doesn’t expand on that thought, but instead he asks if you want to try one with him. 

You agree, it would make it fun just like the throws you practice. Levi gives you a sequence that’s easy to follow and of course only includes two of the simpler jumps the two of you have worked on together as of recently. Essentially this is a pairs program, which is entirely new to you. 

Levi counts the two of you down to start off together, pushing off in sync you go through the motions with him. He starts off with his hand hovering over your lower back behind you, making sure you stay in line with him. Only when he’s sure you can stay in your path does he pull his hand back, allowing the two of you to go off into your first harmonized spin and jump combo.

After going through the routine two more times it’s almost flawless, even you could tell. You lean over with your hands on your knees “Do you want to try that throw?” You asked through labored breaths, though you were half joking. Levi won’t even entertain it. 

“Absolutely not. You need a break anyways.” You catch your breath by the boards with Levi standing across from you, seemingly unphased by the repeated routine the two of you just did. 

“Have you ever had Erwin come out here with you?” 

“Tried. He says he doesn’t want to become one of my clients.” 

You laugh before taking a drink from your water bottle and setting it back down on the ledge. You find yourself thinking over your routine with Levi again, and his words from earlier. You should be having fun skating and it was clear Levi did so you wonder.

“Do you ever miss competing?” You ask him, nervous that he may not appreciate the question.

“Every day.” His answer was not hesitant this time.

“You should get back into it.” You say softly.

“I can’t.” He replies and you can see by the look on his face it’s hard for him to talk about this. He’s being short, but not unwilling. 

“Are you kidding? Levi, you’re incredible out there.” Your expression softens as you try to be hopeful, maybe he just needs to hear it from someone. 

“That’s not my life anymore.” Out of all the weeks you’ve known him, you’ve never heard him sound so sad. Levi anxiously pulls at the hem of his sleeve before pulling it up and checking his watch “It’s time to start our session.” 

You ease off it, watching as he moves to skate towards the center of the rink. For the first time you don’t look forward to your session, the more you complete the more it dawns on you; your time with Levi is almost up.

That’s when it hits you

An idea.

***

Nervous is an understatement. Honestly, you felt like you were driving yourself crazy. When you came up with this idea, you thought it through a million times. It’s the scariest thing because if it doesn’t work out you’re screwed. You couldn’t keep it to yourself, you needed advice, and who better to ask than your best friend. 

Mikasa shows up around seven, prepared for your agreed upon sleepover plans made on Monday night with a set of comfy clothes and carry out from your favorite restaurant for dinner. When she let you know Friday night works for her you were thankful the weeks were going by so fast. You let her in and head straight to the couch, where you enjoy the meal while you start the first episode of a new series. 

“Well,” Mikasa hums when the two of you mutually decide to take a break from the show. “you’ve been awfully quiet about how it’s going in therapy.” 

You smile over at her, turning your body to face her. “Honestly? It was tough at first, I’m not going to lie. It’s a lot better now.” 

“So Levi didn’t scare you off then?” She jokes. “He won’t tell me anything, says you’re a client like any other so,” she trails off. 

“The opposite actually. He's,” You pause for a moment, breaking your eye contact with Mikasa. “He’s amazing. There’s no way I could have made any of the progress I have without him.” You tell her everything. Your progress in physical therapy, the clever ways Levi challenged your anxiety, even the throws and skating together before your sessions; another thing that became an unspoken addition to your routines with Levi. 

“He even opened up a little bit here and there about some of the things he struggled with after his injury.” You mention, and Mikasa’s eyes shoot open. Genuine shock taking over her expression. 

“Really?” She breathes.

“Just a little.” You say, shrugging. “I don’t know much, just that it seemed hard. I can’t even imagine.” 

Mikasa takes a minute to think about how to respond. “We didn’t see him for over a year. He skipped birthdays, holidays. His mom was sick over it for so long.” Mikasa gets quiet again. “He wasn’t the same for a long time, to this day he won’t speak about it.” It was difficult to hear, but made you wonder why Levi was so different around you. Why would he be more willing to answer your questions over his own family? You were scared more than ever now to bring up the idea you’ve been holding in the whole night.

“It sounds like he really likes you.” Mikasa says. “Seems like he found a friend in you.” It sounds silly, even coming from Mikasa. At the end of the day you aren’t oblivious to the fact that you’re a client of Levi’s, not a friend. As much as you wanted to push back you had more pressing matters on your mind. 

“Can I ask you something?” You brace yourself for the words that are about to come out of your mouth. 

“Sure,” Mikasa says softly.

“It might sound crazy,” You begin nervously. “I was thinking about asking him to be my coach after therapy is finished. It’s a shot in the dark, but I know I can do it with him.” You can’t help but feel like along with advice, you’re also asking for her blessing.

“I think that’s a great idea.” A warm smile spreads across Mikasa’s face, her eyes lighting up.

***

A long sigh escaped your lips as you plop down on the bench, your whole body surging with ache. Levi had chosen the last week of sessions to work on the more advanced jumps and spins. It was more so to make sure he could send you off to your coach confident that you knew what you were doing, and that you would be able to build your skill back up while training for competitions. 

Levi approaches you after he takes his own skates off, bumping your skate with his shoe to get your attention “What’s going on with you.” His tone laced with concern. 

“Huh?” You pick your head up, your confusion painted clearly across your face. 

“Something’s on your mind. This isn’t the week to lose focus.” He says plainly. 

You shake your head, turning your gaze back down and directing your attention back on getting your skates off so there was no chance for him to read your facial expression. Proving him right. “Everything’s fine Levi,” You try to assure him. The truth is, you were trying to wait until the last day to ask him. That way if it went badly you’d never have to face him again. Part of you didn’t even know why you were so worried about it. You set your skate on your lap, dragging a cloth across the blade to dry it before putting it away.

“The past four sessions you’ve been somewhere else. Today you barely even spoke.” His words cut through your chest, you forget how observant he is sometimes. “This is the most important part, I can’t release you unprepared.” 

“I didn’t fall once today.” You point out, in fact your session today felt a lot like your regular training. Just practicing to maintain. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Levi says. “Don’t tell me you’re second guessing about getting back into competitive skating.” 

You zip your bag up after dropping your other skate inside, whipping your attention back up at Levi. “No! Of course not.” You assure. Just looking at him hurts a little, you start to doubt your plan. It would uplift his whole career to take you under his wing, it almost felt selfish. You should be able to do this with Tarasov. Hell, she got you to Worlds the first time. You know reaching out to her this late would earn you being scolded for waiting until the last second. 

Levi’s knit eyebrows relax and he drops his shoulders, visibly relieved. He stands there for a moment before letting out a sigh and giving up. “Fine, come back on Wednesday more sharp.” He turns around and heads off towards the door, picking up his own skate bag as he walks past it. Panic rises to the surface, you wish you could yell out to him, tell him you don’t want to have to do this with anyone other than him. In an instant you decide that you can do just that. You stand up and grab your bag, haphazardly stuffing your feet into your shoes before taking off after him. Your bag swishes behind you every time your shoes hit the ground 

“Levi!” You don’t mean to shout so close behind him. He flinches when you grab his shoulder to stop him, causing him to turn and face you. “I lied, sorry.” you start. 

“Alright. So what is it?” Levi says, one eyebrow raised as he tenses up slightly under your light grasp. 

“Hear me out, okay?” You bite your lip, waiting for his confirmation and continuing when he tilts his head slightly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot- the whole week actually. I think I’ve made so much progress with you, and I know this is our last week,” You aren’t holding back, and no matter how much your body screams to do so you don’t look away from him. “And I don’t need an answer right away, it’s sort of a big deal so-“ 

“Spit it out.” He cuts you off, his puzzled look now replaced with one of nervousness, eyes wide as he looks directly into your eyes. 

“Levi, please will you be my coach?” You say it, finally able to catch your breath from the combination of sprinting after Levi and rambling with no breaths in between. “Like my real coach, after we finish therapy.” 

Levi stares at you, his jaw slack. He almost looked.. appalled? You wish you knew exactly what’s going through his mind. 

“I know it’s a huge request, like I said. Think about it.” You try. “I think we could take gold, really-“ 

“No.” Levi turns his head, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. Like he is physically unable to look at you. Time stands still, this is by far the worst case scenario that you feared. 

“Wait..” You say in a hushed tone. 

“The answer’s no.” He confirms, lips parted slightly like he wants to say more but nothing comes out. He takes a step back. “Just..I’ll see you Wednesday.” With that he turns completely and walks out, leaving you behind.

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep 

@thechaoticarchivist @sixpennydame @saccharine-nectarine @martins-rx 

@levisbrat25 

[itadores]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆

synopsis: you like buying little gifts for your boyfriend. it only makes sense for you to buy him a photo-card of his favorite idol when you come across it in a JPOP store.

note: my silly guy <3 haven’t written in ages so i’m a bit rusty

pairing: tōdō aoi x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k

tags: gender neutral reader, fluff, established relationship, petnames (tōdō calls reader babe, reader calls him baby), reader’s love language is gift giving, tōdō is bit of an overdramatic crybaby (affectionate)

You happen across the store as you’re walking through the shopping center that you typically frequent. It’s a new shop if the banner with the words “Grand Opening!” printed in bold block letters was anything to go by. However, the banner is not what originally caught your eye as you were passing through. It’s the name of the place itself that did: JPOPTOWN. Admittedly, you’re not an avid fan of JPOP, moreso a casual enjoyer, but your partner on the other hand…is a very big fan. Very. Honestly, Tōdō is the main reason why you know what you do about JPOP.

You make the quick decision to enter the store, simply out of curiosity for what it may hold within its walls. Maybe, you can find something to buy for your boyfriend. As soon as the door slides open, a catchy tune croons out from the speakers scattered throughout the store. You recognize it as one of the top trending JPOP songs at the moment, having heard it numerous times over the radio or in other shops. Your eyes rove over the walls and shelves of the store, unsure of where to start your journey now that you’re inside. There’s simply so much merchandise of various JPOP artists lining every space of the store that you’re a bit overwhelmed at first.

However, once your gaze lands on an idol more than familiar to you, you immediately gravitate towards the section, your feet leading you to the area solely dedicated to your boyfriend’s favorite idol: Takada-chan. You idly peruse the numerous shelves full of her merchandise, looking over what sort of items they carry. A lot of what the store offers are items that your boyfriend already owns, which makes you deflate a bit.

You were excited to see what this store held within once you had gotten a glimpse of its name in hopes that you could buy a little something to surprise your boyfriend with. Not for any sort of special occasion, but you enjoy surprising Tōdō with little things when you could. His reaction whenever you present him with some trinket or snack is one of your favorite things in the world, especially since he’s always so animated. You would think he’s playing it up to boost your ego with how overdramatic he can be, but you know that your boyfriend is simply like that.

You feel nearly defeated, ready to leave the store empty handed until you see something in your peripheral vision that makes you instantly perk up. There’s a plain binder propped open in the midst of a sea of Takada-chan merch, displaying an array of photo-cards of her.

Tōdō already has quite a few of her photo-cards, even carrying one in his wallet alongside a picture of you, but his collection of her photo-cards is small in comparison to the rest of her other merchandise that he's amassed throughout the years. You only hope that you can find a photo-card that he doesn't already have and doesn't break the bank for you.

You carefully flip through the plastic sleeves containing the photo-cards. You'd hate to accidentally damage them in any way. Tōdō was too rough once, too excited at the prospect of purchasing a Takada-chan photo-card, that he accidentally damaged a whole sleeve full of them. The amount he had to pay in damages that day makes you shudder just thinking about it.

Your eyes scan over the photo-cards as you try and recall which photo-cards Tōdō already has in his possession.

He already has this one, already has that one, already has this one too…

Your eyes light up when they land on one that you know he doesn't have yet, and if you're remembering correctly, he mentioned wanting this one as well. You're pretty sure he shoved his phone in your face to show you how another photo-card collector had it in their possession, but wasn't willing to trade or sell it to him no matter how much he flooded their DMs with vague threats. He ended up blocked after that.

You’re even more delighted when you read the little white sticker with the price in the corner of the plastic sleeve and realize the photo-card is well-within your budget for a little gift for your boyfriend. With the utmost caution, you gently slip the photo-card out of its slot from within the binder, cradling it carefully in your palm. Once you’re sure the photo-card is safely in your possession, you lift your head up, craning your neck around as you search for the photo-card holder area of the store.

As soon as you spot it, you make your way over. Presented with so many options, you’re now faced with the difficult decision of what photo-card holder you should buy for Tōdō. He’ll be pleased with anything you get him, but you want him to like what you get him, not because it simply came from me, but because he genuinely likes it. That means you need to find something that you (and Tōdō) will find cute but not overwhelmingly so.

You stand there for awhile, mentally comparing and contrasting photo-card holder versus photo-card holder until you finally decide on one that you think will suffice. You pluck your chosen photo-card holder from where it's hanging on the wall, turning it over and over in your hand, inspecting to make sure it's in perfect condition. It's a soft plastic photo-card holder with black stars of varying sizes covering the front's borders and the entirety of the back. It's simplistic enough, but still cute, meaning that Tōdō will (hopefully) like it.

After making sure once more that the photo-card holder and the photo-card itself are in pristine condition, you make your way over to the cashier, paying once it's your turn to check out and then exiting the store, more than satisfied with your unexpected purchase. Giddiness floods your system as the door to the shop closes behind you. You can't wait to surprise T��dō.

With your free hand, you dig your phone out of your pocket, opening the messaging app to shoot your boyfriend a quick text, asking if you can swing by his place in an hour. You don't even have a chance to exit out of the application before you receive a response from him.

aoi ♡ : Is that even a question? You're free to come over always.

You huff. Of course your boyfriend would say something like that. If it was up to Tōdō, you would probably never leave his place. You quickly reply back, informing him that it’s polite to ask and that you’ll be over soon before closing the app and slipping your phone back into your pocket. You readjust your grip on the bag containing the goodies for your boyfriend. A small smile graces your lips.

Time for you to make your way to Tōdō’s now.

The commute to Tōdō’s place doesn’t take long, and sooner than you know it, you’re at his front door. You raise a fist to knock, startling when the door swings open right before your fist can make contact. You place a hand over your chest, willing your racing heart to slow before tossing a glare at the offender standing in the doorway.

“Aoi, you scared me half to death!”

“Sorry,” he responds, entirely non-apologetic as a grin spreads across his face. He takes a step towards you, bundling you up in his arms in one easy swoop. You make an undignified sound at the sudden action, but you quickly relax in Tōdō’s hold. The familiar and comforting scent of his cologne infiltrates your senses, and you can’t help but squeeze him a little tighter. “I missed you babe.”

You laugh lightly, pulling away so you can look at Tōdō, who still has a wide grin on his face. “We just saw each other earlier this week, Aoi.”

“And? I can’t miss you when you’re not around?” The corner of his lips pull into a frown, prompting you to playfully roll your eyes.

You sympathetically pat him on the bicep. “Of course you can.”

When you’re met with nothing but an expectant look, you squeeze Tōdō’s bicep and huff in slight amusement. “And I obviously missed you as well. How could I not miss my lovely boyfriend after spending so much time apart?” Your hand glides up from Tōdō’s bicep to gently caress his cheek, which he leans into. Your lips curl into a small smile.

You may be teasing Tōdō, but you did truly miss him as well. The two of you stand there for a bit just enjoying the moment.

“Now, are you going to invite me in or are we going to spend all day out on your doorstep?”

Your words quickly spur Tōdō into action. He grabs the hand resting on his face and entwines it with his own, dragging you inside his place. You stumble a bit (Tōdō sometimes forgets his own strength), but you manage to regain your balance as the door closes behind you both.

Much to Tōdō’s dismay, you let go of his hand to take off your shoes, placing them on the shoe rack before sliding on the slippers designated as yours. They’re of a silly pattern, but Tōdō insisted on getting matching pairs, and well. Who are you to deny him?

“What’s in the bag?” Tōdō questions, pointing a finger at the bag in your hand as he follows you into the living room area of his apartment.

You plop down onto the couch, tucking your feet beneath you before patting the cushion right beside you. Tōdō sits down next to you, his thigh pressing against yours and an arm around the back of the couch.

“A surprise,” you simply say.

His eyes light up.

“For me?”

You huff. You consider teasing Tōdō, but you nod, replying “Yes, for you, baby.”

He crowds into your space, nearly squishing you against the arm of the couch. His eyes shine brightly with unbridled excitement. “Can I open it right now?”

You hold the bag up between you. “Go ahead, baby.” Before Tōdō can grab the bag from your hand, you warn him, “It’s nothing too big, so don’t get too excited.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes the bag from you. “I’ll cherish anything you get me no matter how big nor how small it may be.”

“Okay Romeo, go ahead and open your gift then.” You wave your hand, urging him to open the bag. Although you did give Tōdō a warning that you didn’t get him anything too big, you have a strong feeling that he’ll like what you got him.

It doesn’t take Tōdō long to open the bag. As soon as his eyes land on its contents and his brain processes what he’s looking at, he makes a noise that sounds almost like a squeal. His hands are shaking as he carefully takes out the Takada-chan photo-card and the accompanying photo-card holder out of the bag. The plastic bag drifts to the floor, now forgotten.

When Tōdō finally tears his eyes away from the photo-card that he’s cradling oh so gently to look at you, his eyes are shiny with wetness. His lower lip wobbles.

“Babe, have I told you that I love you and that you’re the best partner a man could ever ask for?”

You smile, reaching out to place a hand around the back of Tōdō’s neck. “I’m glad you like your little gift, Aoi.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “Babe, I love it. Are you kidding me? I’ve been trying to trade or buy this photo-card for so long now. I can’t believe you found it.”

Tōdō carefully places the photo-card and the photo-card holder you’ve bought for him on the table in front of the couch before turning back towards you to engulf you in a tight hug. You yelp as you're suddenly pushed back onto the couch. Your hands cling to Tōdō's shoulders as he slides a hand behind your head to make sure you don't bump it against the arm of the couch.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeats over and over, littering kisses wherever he can on your bare skin. He presses his lips to your neck in chaste kisses before moving onto your face, kissing your forehead, nose, and cheeks over and over before he finally presses a kiss to your lips.

"Thanks, babe." He says once more, pressing another kiss to your lips. You slide your arms from his shoulders to wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Tōdō bends to your will, but is careful to not crush you beneath his weight.

You lean up to kiss him this time, and he chases your lips when you pull away, making you giggle lightly.

"Anything for you, Aoi," you softly say. You're sure that you have a terribly lovesick expression on your face, but Tōdō isn't faring much better. A small smile tugs at your lips.

You'll gladly buy Tōdō little gifts for the rest of your lives if it means you'll get a reaction like this from him every time.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Oral Headcanons - Kujou Sara, Hu Tao & Shenhe

A/N: Happy New Year! Here's to many new quality posts in 2024 🥂 CW: Male!Reader, every form of oral.

Her experience in the matter was… none. Just none. She came into the relationship with zero knowledge regarding sex, beyond the basic what-should-go-where, meaning she relied on your guidance at first. 

Being a giving personality type, Sara prefers to serve you rather than be eaten out, though she doesn’t completely rule out the second. If you offer her the chance, she won’t refuse it, even if receiving oral isn’t the hottest of things in her books. She still enjoys a thorough licking every now and then to mix up the usual, vanilla sex.

Sara has a strange relationship with rimjobs. On one hand, they seem quite… inappropriate. Licking her womanhood is understandable, and so is pleasuring your penis, but that? So why, on the other hand, does it feel so good? Sara indulges her desires from time to time, but she’d rather keep it strictly inside the bedroom, even if it’s the two of you. 

When Sara got the hang of things and stopped grazing you with her teeth each time you tried oral, she came to enjoy it more than she expected. Your taste, your warmth, your moans and throbs turn her on without fail, making her very diligent when it comes to making you feel good with her mouth. 

Sara isn’t a fan of rough play. She would much rather not have her hair pulled or her face fucked, and instead get to go at her own pace. Making head deep or sloppy doesn’t sound hot for her either - Sara tends to enjoy a more casual and gentle approach in bed. 

These preferences don’t mean you will come out of the bedroom unsatisfied - it will be quite the contrary. Sara keeps your pleasure as the priority, which, on top of her keeping an eye on your reactions, makes every blowjob feel heavenly. 

Her favourite way to go about sucking you off is having you lie down on your back, spread your legs and let her get comfy between them. She's not opposed to getting on her knees either, but she'd rather do some with you sitting down. It's just more comfortable this way and doesn't force her to angle her head straight up if she wants to look you in the eyes while feasting on your length. 

Dirty talking doesn't come easy to Sara, especially when she's in such a submissive position. Being the bottom takes away a lot of her confidence, makes her blushy and flustered, and leads to a fair bit of awkwardness each time she tries to say something hot. Thus, Sara keeps quiet, with a few words of shy praise sprinkled here and there. She does enjoy pleasuring you and she wants you to hear it, but the words just don’t fall easily out of her mouth. The least she can do is suck harder. 

Her usual techniques consist of rubbing your frenulum with the flat of her tongue while sucking on your head, on top of gently massaging your nuts to help get that cum out. When either of you needs a little break, she’ll fill the downtime with long licks along the shaft of your penis, never getting her eyes away from yours. Sara uses her tongue lightly but firmly, ensuring you get to enjoy her mouth thoroughly.

Between spitting and swallowing, Sara would rather do neither. She doesn’t enjoy eating your seed, but she doesn’t feel like spitting it out would be an enjoyable sight for you either. Getting your hot cum on her lips, breasts or face is quite hot in her opinion, so why not do just that? She can satisfy you both while not having to swallow the cum, the taste of which she finds gross (in a bad way). 

But… Could you try to aim well? Even if she wipes the cum off her clothes the smell - and the vivid memory - persist for quite a while, and end up being a flustering distraction for the poor Tengu. 

Experience? Not even a contest with Hu Tao. With how much sex you two are having, she could probably get a master’s degree in handling your cock. Her every hole knows the feeling of a good, thorough fucking and has likely adjusted perfectly to your dick, but Hu Tao wants more. 

Fucking is always the main dish, but some appetiser goes a long way too. Or some nice breakfast. Waking you up by taking care of your morning wood with her cute mouth is the least a wonderful man like you deserves. She likes when you use your tongue to get her off or let her ride your face, sure, but that’s quite the way from the hottest thing in the bedroom for her. What’s far more interesting than getting her cunt eaten is getting some alone time with just her, you, and your shaft. 

Every opportunity to get her hands on your shaft is not one she is willing to pass up on. That’s just the curse of being a hopeless nymphomaniac with endless libido, but the thing you’re carrying between your legs plays a big part too. It’s such a perfect cock for all purposes - for sucking, licking, fucking and breeding. And Hu Tao is not going to stop herself from appreciating it without restraint. 

Cock worship is the way Hu Tao walks with prideful steps. She doesn’t bother to follow any specific routine of pleasuring your manhood. Pure lust is what she’s running on when appreciating you, and it’s precisely that what makes her blowjobs so unique. Each one is a whole new experience - some are rough throatfucking sessions with lots of spit, gagging and choking while some are slow, gentle and focused on using her tongue to tease the cum out of you. She’ll be more than happy to take requests though!

Speaking of choking, that’s what gets Hu Tao the wettest. Is her throat so tight or is your dick so massive? Maybe both? Who cares - what matters is that your length and girth makes her gag and whine, which Hu Tao thinks is a better compliment than any words she could think of. But worry not - you’ll hear plenty of verbal affirmation too. 

Hu Tao is quite the talented girl with her words, not only on paper, but also in the bedroom. She’ll make sure you know how wonderful, tasty, warm, thick, hard and virile your penis is each time she gets her mouth close to it. A happy and regularly satisfied girl like her needs to show some gratitude, no? Her many hanpais written while she was away from you, dedicated to you and your body certainly prove both her poetic talent and notorious horniness. 

Some people say Hu Tao gives off a gremlin vibe. But she doesn’t agree - she’d rather say she has goblin energy. Cause she’s gobblin’ on these balls! They are the source of your masculinity (and your delicious cum, of course!), so they deserve just as much worship and adoration. While your cock gives her pleasure beyond words and keeps her on her best behaviour, your balls make sure you have the energy to indulge her and make her a mommy in the future. Hu Tao will gladly fondle, lick and suck them when the opportunity presents itself, always with a respectful gentleness.

Spit? Swallow? Why not both? Hu Tao will gladly open her cute mouth for a filling or let you douse her in your seed wherever you like. Make no mistake though - when you do the latter, she will lick everything up and give your dick a nice cleaning too. Good girls always swallow, and Hu Tao wants to be the perfect little slut for you. It doesn’t matter if it tastes a bit off - the look of lust in your eyes as you watch her enjoying your milk is more than worth it. 

Rimjobs are fun! Hu Tao has no problem with being a bit adventurous, especially if the reward is the chance to hear your deep moans as she works her magic, never leaving your shaft cold and alone, outside the firm grip of her hand. And when it comes to her? Well, when you flip her up and spread her cheeks, she can’t help but giggle in joy. That’s all there needs to be said. 

Getting eaten out is quite fun too. Sometimes the condoms run out and she needs just that little bit more pleasure to end the day off on, or the toys run out of battery, or she was a naughty girl and needs to make up with you for her mischief. Don’t expect her to be able to control herself when your rough tongue is lapping so well at her wet folds. You’ll always end up with a drenched face and a very horny Hu Tao on your hands. It might be a whole workout for her body with all the orgasms you bring, but her soul can be pleased only with your rock hard dick.  

Completely clueless. The most knowledge she had prior to getting on that level of intimacy with you was that sex makes babies and… that’s basically it. How does one go about it? How does it feel? Is it healthy? She wasn’t told, and her interest in the topic wasn’t extensive either. Shenhe just assumed she wouldn’t have the chance to put the knowledge in practice, as her life was her training, and her training was for a life of banishing evil. 

She did get to read a few smuttier books, but these were hardly a sex guide. With just a very general image of sex as a whole, Shenhe just let you do things to her while she just laid there and took it, occasionally asking a question or two in the act. Was this, combined with her general lack of noise making during sex a turnoff at first? Yes, obviously. There was some disappointment you couldn’t hide, and Shenhe picked it up right away. She didn’t want to see you sad because of her obliviousness, so she took to learning how to sex. 

Oral was a wholly foreign concept to the woman before you introduced it to her. She had a hard time grasping the point at first.

“Y/N?” “Yes, Shenhe?” “Why do you lick me down there?” “Well, to make you feel good, obviously.” “To ultimately make me orgasm, correct?” “Mhm.” “Then why will you not penetrate me instead? It brings me to orgasm faster, and is pleasurable for both of us.” “Do you not like when I please you with my tongue, dear?” “No, I enjoy it. But I don’t understand why we restrain ourselves from vaginal sex, which is more efficient at bringing pleasure.” “Sexuality is not about being efficient, Shenhe. It’s about exploring what we like, and enjoying it thoroughly. Also, oral sex helps bring some variety to our alone time.” “I do not understand. Are the many positions you can take me in not satisfactory for you?” “Wait! No, that’s not what I mean.” “Then why, if you want to cause me as much pleasure as possible, do you choose the less effective way?” “I mean, it’s a different sensation, no?” “Yes, it is. But there are better methods.” “Yes, there are, however-” “Why not use them then, if you desire to bring me to orgasm as many times as possible?” “You’re hopeless, Shenhe.” 

After many conversations and explaining, some more difficult than others, Shenhe understood the point. It is a different way to feel good, which although not as good as regular sex is also enjoyable. Understanding this made her enjoy cunnilingus from time to time, as long as it wasn’t facesitting. Shenhe doesn’t feel comfortable depriving you of air, even if it makes her feel good. Besides, why would she ever not want to see your face when you eat her out? Your head gliding up and down between her legs and your eyes, focused on hers yet locked in a trance-like state make her very wet, unable to resist the instinct to rock her hips to help you get deeper in with your tongue. 

Despite coming to enjoy this, Shenhe did develop a certain mindset of equality. You are taking the time and depriving yourself of pleasure to pleasure her instead, thus she should return the favour. Even when you explained to Shenhe that you love licking her and it brings you satisfaction, she insisted on giving you a blowjob after each dining session. The beginnings were rough, as expected, but she’s a quick learner and caught the jist of things in no time. You showed her how to make you cum, showed her where to touch and lick, and Shenhe memorised every word. While you constantly encourage her to feel free and explore different techniques, she always includes a few elements you told her about in the exact same form. Is her sucking still quite routinous at times? Yes, but it’s progress!

Your balls get a bit of play, but aren’t in Shenhe’s centre of attention by far. She uses some tried-and-true techniques, using them to help bring you up to the edge, push you through an orgasm or add a bit of light pain to make things interesting.  

Shenhe doesn’t swallow, mainly because she doesn’t like the taste. Semen is salty, thick, gooey and hard to gulp down. It also smells, which Shenhe doesn’t really find exciting. Despite not being into eating it, she does enjoy playing with it. Sometimes Shenhe gathers it in her hands and uses it as lubricant for a handjob or anal, sometimes she just feels it in her hands and sometimes she spreads it across her chest and stomach. It’s smelly and nasty, but in a good way. It helps her get into a more carefree and unrestrained mood. These things aren’t a problem either, as sex of any sort with Shenhe is always followed by a shower sooner or later. 

Giving you a rimjob is okay with Shenhe - sadly, you can’t enjoy the same variety of pleasure she can with her pussy, so any new way to make you enjoy yourself is welcome. But when it comes to receiving one, she’s more anxious than aroused. There are so, so many things that can potentially go wrong and break the experience, so she would rather not take the risk. In addition, Shenhe would prefer having her slit eaten, please.

Thanks for reading!

[olderthannetfic]

Yeah, no, this recurring "if you posted it to the archive you OWE ITS PRESENCE TO US FOREVER" take people keep regurgitating is some absolutely entitled bullshit no matter how you dress it up as ~*respect for art and the artist.*~

Ok, I never wanted to wade into this never ending wank about deleting fics because I didn’t think I had anything to add, but this comment in the comment section of one of the most recent asks on this topic sparked something for me. Probably it’s not even an original thought, but here I go.

Is it ok if an author doesn’t like their book any more, so they just start going into libraries and destroying copies of it?

That’s a bad analogy because the library paid for those copies and the author was presumably paid for their work? And also it wouldn’t even be legal for the author to do that? I hear you. I still think it holds some merit in terms of helping us think about this in terms of libraries being a place of preservation for the community, which is how people who are complaining about fics disappearing view fic archives (thus, “archive”), but I do see the flaws in the analogy.

What if a friend crafted you something as a gift, and you absolutely love it and treasure it, and you tell them so at every opportunity. Is it cool for them to take it back and throw it away because they don’t like it any more?

That analogy makes it too personal and doesn’t really work because “people should just download copies of every fic in anticipation that the author might delete it, and authors aren’t breaking into people’s houses to steal back copies of fics they have saved”? Ok. That’s fair. But I think that analogy at least conveys how personal the disappointment of a fic disappearing feels for many fans. Especially if they voiced their support to the author, it’s a big bummer when the author receives that support and then turns around and says “well I don’t think it’s good enough any more, and I’m taking it down so no one can enjoy it.” But I agree, that’s not a perfect analogy either.

How about an analogy I think I have heard before, one in which an artist created a piece of art and donated it to be displayed in a public space for the community to enjoy, then subsequently decided they wanted to remove it from view and destroy it. I think even if they were legally within their rights to do it, most people would still look at it as a pretty lame thing to do. This analogy doesn’t fully satisfy me, because public art on display doesn’t feel fully analogous to fic in an archive for me, and depending on the piece and the setting there may not be the same expectation that it’s going to be preserved there.

I think all of these analogies taken in combination kind of start to convey why this is a big deal to people. And as many have said, it’s not that we don’t acknowledge it’s the fic writer’s prerogative to delete, or that we feel entitled to the work, or that we don’t realise we can and probably should download our most favourite fics. None of that changes the fact that to take down a fic is taking back a gift and removing something from a community archive dedicated to preserving that media. Anyway. This is my beer-fuelled rant complete with three separate analogies that really contribute nothing to this very done-to-death discussion. I’ll go be quiet now.

--

Eh. I don't think people are confused in quite this way.

Some of them are upset because a few "Never delete!" people actually say aggressive or aggressively stupid things.

A lot of them want to never feel judged, and that includes by hearing that other people are upset.

But a poisonous and idiotic breed of them don't value fic and are mightily offended that other people do.

I get these clowns on here all the time. I haven't blocked all of them, but they're all dumbasses and they all sound the same. "Ooh, it's just casual!" "Ooh, I'm so mature for not having feelings and it totally isn't a mental illness symptom, how dare you?!"

Listen, dudes, wanting to destroy your hobby stuff is not a moral failing. But treating your hobby as "just a hobby" and "It doesn't matter" means you're a boring person. Come cry in the notes, but it won't be any less true.

Art is something to be passionate about. Preservation is something to be passionate about. Life in general is something to be passionate about.

Destroying art is sometimes part of art. Thinking it's pretentious to care deeply, however, makes you a loser.

[kisses4tom]

PT 2 OF TOM AS A DAD PLSSS

ᡣ𐭩 DAD TOM part 2!

───────────────

HEYY OFCC 🤭 SO MANY PPL ARE REQUESTING THIS ACTUALLY!! 😭 here is part 1

To be quite honest with you guys, I don't really know what else to add 😭, but I'll figure it out and make something up along the way! 💕

I hope it lives up to your expectations because, I will not lie, I ran out of ideas for a few of them 😭 yet I hope you like it either way! 🫶🏻

I also mixed various topics and scenarios for a little more inclusivity! especially because I made a lot of these hcs for a teen daughter

Obviously Tom is gonna be a girl dad 'cause what else would he beeeee 🤭🥹

───────────────

he would keep almost every drawing she's made throughout the years

HE WOULD LEND HER HIS YELLOW DOG PLUSHIE‼️‼️

when she's older he would love to get matching tattoos if she wants, but he's definitely getting one dedicated to her (did y'all know Bill and Tom have a matching tattoo with Leni? 👀)

definitely making her a photo album

if anybody says that the baby looks more like him than her mother he would act so proud istg

"Yeah, Y/n's genes said BYE!"

he would become her personal Instagram photographer

whenever his daughter brings a boy home he would be so sus of him and maybe even tell them to keep the door open 💀

DAD REFLEXES 🤭🤭‼️ so hot istg

he would get dragged into tiktoks and learn some dances together 😭

when the baby was younger, her mama would surprise Tom with matching fits and he would be sooo gitty and happy

always keeping an eye out for her in public

if he's talking to some people and he hears the smallest noise coming from his daughter (at the park or whatever), he would immidiately put everything on hold and make sure she's okay (if that makes sense idk), or he would turn to look at her

he would try to attend as many school/dance recitals as possible, but with work it's a little hard for him to find time (at times)

is she plays a sport he would cheer the loudest for her

if she ever comes out as an lgbtq+ member, he would be very supportive and just act casual after her confession

when the baby was just born and he had skin-to-skin contact with her for the first time, he got emotional

he would wake up in the middle of the night and feed her himself so you could rest (currently in between tears)

the band is OBSESSED with that child and always play with her whenever they have a chance

Tom knows he can rely on them as babysitters

why do I feel like him and Bill would FIGHT to choose who holds her

"Tom you always have her come onnn let me hold her this timeee"

he's so protective of that child

when she first started walking he’d kneel down and open his arms towards her

he would also scoot back so she could walk more and then let her fall in his arms (imagine him picking her up and kissing her cheek after 😭)

istg he would bring that child everywhere (especially when she's older)

he would make sure to dedicate her an episode/scene on Kaulitz & Kaulitz where he talks about fatherhood and his story

he's veeery supportive of everything she does

whenever he's live on Instagram or TikTok with the band he would call his daughter over and prank her with filters or something like that

he loves dressing her up, but hates changing her diaper

he usually doesn't enjoy shopping, but he would bring her everywhere and spend time together

he's such a quality time dad

when texting, he would send real time pictures of his most honest reaction LMFAO😭

he would make sure his and Gustav's daughter are like little cousins (spoiler alert: they are!)

his daughter will grow up with "do you need a stepmom by any chance?" questions 😻

if Tom and the baby's mom broke up, co-parenting would be pretty hard on him, as he loves that child so much it hurts him to know he can't see her every day

he would probably bring her to some meet and greets with fans (both now and back in the day)

fans would give him so many gifts for her

sometimes he gets emotional knowing she won't stay a baby forever, but he's still very excited to know her character and mess with her more

when she was a baby, at the beach he would dip her feet in the water

when she's older he'd splash the hell out of her and push her in the water

he definitely picks her up on his shoulders (both as a baby and as a teen)

if you have more ideas leave them in the comments so I can add them! 🤭

[bromfieldhall]

Caught In The Act

Colin catches Penelope doing something he thinks she shouldn't - especially when she's a fair few months pregnant..

Rating: General

Part of Love and Life Collection

Look out for a little nod to fellow CS fans in this one

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

“Penelope…what are you doing?”

The red-haired woman froze at the sound of her husband’s low, clipped voice and closed her eyes briefly in dismay.

Of all the rotten luck.

She had thought that he would be out with his brothers for a while yet.

They were staying at Aubrey Hall for a couple of weeks as Anthony and Kate had returned earlier than planned with their newborn, Edmund. The men had ventured out for the evening to wet the baby’s head and she’d not been able to sleep without Colin by her side.

Rather than staring at a blank ceiling, she had decided to read for a while, hence why she’d crept down the stairs in her nightwear to look for a book in the well-stocked library.

Slowly, she dropped her arm and straightened up, then twisted slightly to look down at her husband. He was staring back up at her and, to the casual observer, they would think that he was perfectly calm and at ease.

But Penelope knew better.

The thumb and forefinger on his left hand were furiously rubbing together in agitation. It was the only movement of his otherwise rigid posture. His normally full lips were tightly pressed into a thin line, but it was his eyes that were the real giveaway. Instead of the usual warmth that she had more than once waxed lyrical about, they were dark and stormy - with just a hint of fear.

“Colin! I did not think you’d be back so soon,” she said, pasting a bright smile on her face.

“Clearly,” he retorted brusquely.

He dared not say more in case he wouldn’t be able to stop the flow of words. He still hadn’t quite got over the shock of seeing his pregnant wife halfway up the library ladder, reaching out precariously just to grab a blasted book. He swore his heart had stopped for a moment only for it to jump start into a rhythm that would rival the beat of the most energetic jig.

Penelope cleared her throat a little and tried again. If she acted as though nothing were remiss, hopefully they would not have the confrontation she knew was coming.

“I was just looking for something to read while I waited up for you.”

“And you could not find anything nearer the ground?” he questioned dryly.

The guilt she had been feeling quickly turned to annoyance at his words. That was nothing, however, to the irritation that heated her blood when Colin suddenly held out his hand to her with long suffering sigh and expectant look.

As though she were incapable of getting down from the ladder all by herself!

With a huff of frustration, she turned back to the shelves and quickly grabbed the novel she’d been after. Then, before he even had time to register what she’d done, she moved down a couple of rungs and shoved the book into his outstretched hand.

Ignoring his splutter of indignation, she continued her descent grumbling all the while.

“For goodness sake, Colin, we have spoken of this. You agreed to not be so…you. I am pregnant, not incapacitated…”

Unfortunately for her, she missed the last but one rung in her haste to get down and let out a little shriek of surprise as she slipped.

Colin immediately dropped the book and grabbed her firmly by the waist. Lifting her down, he set her on her feet none too gently then spun her around to face him.

If she had thought his eyes were stormy before, they were swirling like a positive tempest now. For a moment his grip tightened on her and she hoped he might pull her into his embrace, but he didn’t. Instead, he let her go and took a step back, leaving her feeling bereft and a little shaken still from her slip. Without a word, he bent down and picked up the book then held it out to her.

“Colin…” she began imploringly.

“Not now, Penelope,” he cut in curtly, then pressed the novel into her hands. “I am tired and off to bed. Enjoy your book.”

She stared after him as he turned on his heel and walked out of the library, then let out a shaky sigh. Really, all this was of her own making. Be careful what you wish for, they say, and they, whoever they were, were right.

Ever since she had found out that she was expecting, Colin had seen to her every need. Indeed, he had been so attentive of her, that it had begun to feel a little stifling. She was very well able to look after herself as she’d reminded her husband quite sternly one evening when he’d insisted on taking her arm just to help her into bed.

He'd looked so hurt by her words but she’d been too wrapped up in her own indignation to offer an apology. Instead, he’d offered his own and assured her that he would be more mindful in the future.

That had been five days ago and he’d been true to his word.

Of course, he had still been there for her when she needed him, but she could tell he was restraining himself at times. That fact had then fuelled her guilt for asking it of him which, in turn, had made her irritable and prone to snap.

It was rapidly evolving into a vicious circle that she had hoped the unexpected time away from home would ease somehow.

And it had to a degree – until tonight.

But, Lord, he was angry with her now and rightly so. All because she wanted to prove a point. In truth, she’d given herself quite a fright when she’d missed her footing and Colin had obviously had one too. It was no wonder that he had walked away.

Placing a hand over her slightly swollen stomach, she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

First, she needed to apologise, then they needed to talk.

The room was dim when she entered quietly. The only light came from candles on each of the small bedside tables left burning for her to see her way. Her heart warmed to know that even in his ire, he still thought of her wellbeing.

She quickly took off her robe then dropped it and the book onto a chair before slipping into bed next to her husband. He was on his side, turned away from her, but she moved closer and propped herself up on her elbow to try and see his face in the warm glow of the flickering candlelight. His eyes were closed, breathing even and yet it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since he’d left her downstairs.

It was quick even for him to have succumbed to slumber.

“Colin?” she murmured softly.

Silence.

“Colin?” she tried again, a little louder.

Still nothing.

She reached out and touched his shirt clad arm, giving him a slight shake.

“Colin.”

“I am asleep,” he finally muttered grumpily without opening his eyes.

Despite herself, Penelope couldn’t help a rueful smile.

“Colin, please, I wish to talk.”

Her husband sighed and opened his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at her over his shoulder.

“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” he asked with a hint of frustration.

Penelope inched back a little and tugged insistently on his arm, hoping that he would roll onto his back where she could see him better. He went with her urging easily, which she took as a good sign, even though it was clear from his tone that he was still irked from what happened in the library.

“No. I wish to apologise,” she told him in a rush. “It was foolish of me to climb the ladder as I did and even more foolish of me to not take your hand when you offered. I-It…When I slipped, I…”

She stopped and shook her head, unable to finish her thought but Colin could tell from the glint of tears in her eyes that it had scared her as much as him.

Suddenly, all his indignation melted away. He hated seeing her upset, even if it had been bought on by her own stubbornness.

“Come here,” he murmured, lifting his arm in invitation. She immediately cuddled up to him and laid her head on his shoulder, hand coming to rest on his chest. He ran his hand up and down her back soothingly and felt her slowly relax against him.

“I do not wish for us to continue like this,” she told him softly after a few moments of quiet.

Raising her head to look at him, he could still see the tears glistening, threatening to fall.

“Neither do I, Pen,” he assured her earnestly, staring deep onto her eyes so she knew it to be true. A lone tear escaped and he gently brushed it away with his thumb before it had a chance to roll very far down her cheek. “Perhaps we should consider a compromise, yes?” he suggested, giving her a small, encouraging nod. He started to smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I shall limit the amount of times I ask if you are well to only…say…ten a day if you agree to stay with your feet firmly on the ground until the baby is born.”

Penelope let out a laugh and sniffed as she wiped at her eyes.

“Maybe six times?” she countered hopefully.

“Eight and we have an agreement,” he told her with a grin.

She laughed again and nodded.

“Deal.”

“I believe it’s not truly binding until we have sealed it in some way,” he remarked, quirking a brow and tapping a finger on his bottom lip.

He gave her his best charming smile by way of further encouragement but Penelope was already moving in to capture his lips with a little giggle.

It was a gentle kiss at first, but then it deepened as Colin’s hand came up to cup the back of her head, his other arm snaking around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

Suddenly, Penelope broke away and pulled back from him with a gasp, her eyes wide.

“What is it?” Colin asked urgently. “Do you need a chamber pot?”

Although she hadn’t really suffered with sickness much due to her pregnancy, there had been the odd time it had reared its wretched head and he assumed this was one.

He went to get out of bed, but stilled when Penelope grabbed his hand and placed it palm down on her stomach.

“I think the baby moved,” she told him emotionally, her voice barely above a whisper. She stared at him, her expression one of joy and wonder, then moved his hand slightly to the left. “There…can you feel it?”

He couldn’t. It was likely still too early but that didn’t stop the indescribable happiness he felt knowing their child was growing well.

“No, but I’m sure it will only be a matter of time,” he replied, his voice as quiet as hers. It was if any louder and it might break the spell of the precious moment. She moved his hand again, wanting him to share what was happening even if he couldn’t physically experience it for himself yet. “What does it feel like?”

“Butterflies,” Penelope replied with a brilliant smile, then leaned in to give him a brief kiss before adding softly, “and our love.”

Love indeed, he thought happily and it was their love that would always see them through, even if they were at times at odds.

He claimed a kiss. Then another. And another. Soon the air was filled soft moans and whispered endearments as their bodies came together and they headed for completion.

Once spent, Colin blew out the candles then settled down behind his wife and drew her back against him, hand splayed over her stomach.

“Are you well, Pen?” he muttered sleepily into her hair.

“Very well,” she replied, smiling to herself in the darkness.

He really couldn’t help himself and she suddenly realised that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[linkemon]

Joker [Ren Amamiya/Akira Kurusu](selfship)

Selfship made for for Raven4004. I assumed Ren Amamiya like in the anime but in the game there is no canonical name and surname.

You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested. Other selfships can be found here.

+ You met Ren at Leblanc when he was learning how to make coffee. You were his first customer, the one he served while Sojiro was away. The drink wasn't great but you figured the sight of Amamiya made up for the inconvenience.

+ Then you came back a few more times and exchanged casual information on trivial topics like the weather. In time, you started talking about school, where you learned some uninteresting information about Shujin Academy. The fact that he had a criminal record surprised you a lot. You found out about it from his guardian by accident but you didn't pursue the subject. However, it gave you the courage to tell him about your problem.

+ When you found a part-time job at a ramen shop, you felt like you had won the lottery. The stakes were high and the tips were big. Over time, however, it turned out to be just a front for another, less moral business. You wanted to leave but your employer made it difficult for you, and soon his true nature was revealed. He threatened to send out suggestive-looking photos taken secretly when a customer sat you on his lap.

+ Ren was surprised that you trusted him so much. Usually, he had to find out about such things from people himself or it happened by accident. He tried his best to comfort you. He brewed some lemon balm, ran for some tissues and sat Morgana on your lap. When you started crying in earnest, he rubbed your back soothingly, assuring you that everything would be okay.

+ At first, you thought these were nice but empty words. That's why you were so surprised when they became reality some time later. Especially since you accidentally fell into the Metaverse. The amount of new, fascinating information was extraordinary to you. It also allowed you to get to know Amamiya a little better from a completely different side. You awakened your persona by trying to save him, even though he didn't need it at all. In the process, you managed to change your boss's heart together.

+ After all that action, you made a lot of new friends. The Phantom Thieves group had a new member and it became common to spend time together. That's why you started to miss being alone with Ren. It slipped out when you were walking through Mementos one day. Joker smiled and asked if you wanted to go to the movies. You agreed and went to get a few drinks.

+ The previous sentence describes your relationship quite well. Sometimes you don't have time for everything, so you have to juggle different responsibilities. Whether it's investigating changes of heart or making coffee together in Leblanc. There aren't many moments left for typical dates, so these are especially important to you.

+ Joker is much more of a flirt when he shows his persona. You don't hold him back. He often kisses your hand or unexpectedly grabs you by the waist to sneak over the enemy. In the ordinary world, you are much more subdued. People see you as a quiet, in-love couple of busy teenagers.

+ Sojiro and Morgana are your biggest fans. Ren's guardian keeps inviting you to the coffee shop, saying you're a good influence on his ward. He also gives great advice when you're arguing (and makes much better coffee than your boyfriend but you'd rather not bring that up...).

+ You are not overly protective of each other. You usually know that the other is strong enough to cope. That doesn't mean that you leave each other in need but you usually just don't need it.

+ You eat curry. Lots of curry. All the time. You bought Ren a big pot as a present so he could make even better versions of the dish. He bought you a gun. For the Phantom Thieves' purposes, of course but you were very happy. Much more than you were over the bracelet for your last birthday.

+ If you ask him hard enough, he lets you wear his black coat but only for a moment. He doesn't mind when you take off his glasses to try them on and give him a kiss on the nose in return.

+ You're interesting. You share secrets that the world doesn't know, although you feel like your boyfriend still has a few more secrets. You hope to learn them all in time.

[ap41cu5]

ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US (lars pinfield fan!!!!) if you’re still taking requests, could you possibly do one where lucky teases lars on his obvious crush on the reader/character? and reader/character picks up on his nervousness and awkwardness?? sorry if it’s a bit vague. remember to take care of urself and thank you in advance <3 :)

Stifled

Lars Pinfield x Fem! Reader Rating: Slight NSFW - Suggestive Themes Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2464

A/N: thanks so much for your request anon! i really hope this is what you were looking for. ive noticed im struggling to write him completely in character, but i did my best! i hope you enjoy <3

“Oh, please. You totally do! There’s no point in denying it anymore!” You heard Lucky exclaim from the other room before she was hastily hushed.

“Would you keep your voice down!?” Lars seethed as he attempted to hush Lucky. 

You were quite literally just one step away from the door, but clearly you were about to walk in on a conversation you weren’t supposed to be hearing.

At first the plan was to come back later, but the next thing you heard immediately motivated you to stay. While you normally weren’t the type to eavesdrop, maybe just today you’d listen for just a few seconds longer.

“Well, it’s not like it matters anyway! You always get so nervous and uptight around her. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you hated her,” Lucky commented.

Who are they talking about? 

Shooting her a glare, he refused to answer and only turned back toward his desk.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” He irritatedly asked, his tone making it clear that he wanted her to leave.

Lucky hopped onto one of the tables, “why? You want me to go so that you’ll both get some precious alone time once she gets back?” Lucky teased him, a smug grin plastering across her face.

Lars has a crush. The realization struck you right in the gut, one of your hands clutching the side of your uniform. 

You couldn’t help the fact that you liked him. There was something about his high intelligence, his attentiveness to detail, and occasional sass that drew you to him, despite him always acting standoffish whenever you were around. 

The possibility of him catching feelings for someone else broke your heart. You couldn’t stand the thought of him being with someone who wasn’t you.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go. But I can already smell the look on your face once she gets back!” Lucky giggled on her way out the door.

You immediately began to panic. You could hear her footsteps rapidly growing closer, and there was nowhere to hide in the sector of the lab you were in. So you took the only choice you had and tried to walk through the door as casually as you could muster.

Taking a quick deep breath in and walking in through the door, you were immediately met with Lucky’s face just inches away from yours.

An awkward split second passed where you both just stared at each other before she finally said, “(First Name)! Funny seeing you here!” She raised her voice, making sure Lars could hear her.

“I work here,” you chuckled, “I just got back from my lunch break.” You held up a paper bag containing your leftovers.

She animatedly nodded, “I see, I see. Well, I’ll catch you later, (First Name)!” She slipped past you, “have fun, Lars!”

She gave Lars a knowing look as she walked off, shooting you a quick wink as well.

Lucky was always energetic and cheerful, but she carried a much more playful attitude than usual. Your interest piqued, especially given the previous conversation they had. 

You placed your lunch bag down onto your desk as you turned your head to look at Lars. The moment you looked over, you saw his head shift back down to his desk, as though he was already looking at you. Part of you immediately pondered what that look could have possibly meant, but you tried not to overthink it. He probably wanted to see who was approaching, as if Lucky somehow hadn’t made it obvious enough. But you tried not to overthink it. Last thing you’d want would be to get your hopes up only to get shattered once you found out who it was that Lars truly had feelings for.

Despite all of your jumbled thoughts and feelings, you felt a bit bored. You finished the majority of your experiments earlier. You had astute problem solving abilities, but Lars was the one case you just couldn’t crack. 

You just couldn’t understand why he hated being around you so much. You were almost always nice, polite, and sweet. And every morning for the past couple of months, you’d arrive at work with a fresh cup of coffee sitting atop of your desk. He had taken the time to memorize how you liked your coffee, and that had to mean something, didn’t it? He couldn’t hate you that much, could he?

Approaching his desk, wandering eyes took a curious peek at what he was working on.

“How’s your experiment coming along?” You asked from over his shoulder.

He immediately seemed to be startled by your presence. The contraption he had been so carefully inspecting clattered to the ground as he flinched, hastily spinning around to face you.

You couldn’t tell if you were imagining it, or if his eyes seemed to soften just for the ephemeral moment they met yours. His expression quickly went from surprised to a mix of embarrassment and fear. A notably unfamiliar expression from him.

“What do you want?” He awkwardly cleared his throat before quickly turning back around.

Just for a second could you see a soft hint of blush tinting his cheeks as he made a clear effort not to look at you. But what did it mean? Why was he so nervous all of the sudden?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you meekly apologized. “You seem a bit uptight. Is everything okay?”

He huffed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sure,” you replied, sarcasm evident in your voice.

“Maybe you’re just more annoying than usual,” he spat, giving you the cold shoulder.

You sighed at his unsurprisingly cold response.

“Have I done something?” You asked, feeling a bit remorseful.

He seemed to tense up all over again at the question as he fumbled with whatever tool he had in his hand at the moment.

“No, everything’s fine. There’s something I must tend to,” he paused for a half second, presumably to come up with a place. “In the bathroom.”

A few seconds passed where you couldn’t find the words to respond. He’d been acting so awkward lately, more awkward than usual.

“...In the bathroom?” You reiterated, unsure if you really heard him correctly.

“Yes– yes, in the bathroom. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he hastily set down the tool, the other gadget he was holding fumbling out of his grip and clattering onto the surface of his desk.

His boots squeaked against the tile flooring of the lab as he made a beeline down the hallway to the restroom. 

You couldn’t help but feel a bit heartbroken. The way he acted so disgusted with you to the point where he couldn’t even stand being in the same room as you made you sick.

“Gee, what’s his deal, am I right?” You heard a voice emerge from behind you.

“Oh, hey Gary,” you greeted him, unable to hide the pain in your voice.

“Agh, don’t sound so disappointed!” He gave your arm a light pat as he crunched on an apple, “seems like he’s like that with everyone. If you ask me, though, I get the feeling he likes you too.”

You scoffed, almost laughing at his response.

“I highly doubt that, Gary. You saw how he acted around me. It’s like he hates me, or something!” You groaned into the palms of your hands like a petulant teenager.

He leaned closer to your ear, “let’s keep this between us, but for him to get all awkward and riled up like that? That’s gotta mean something. Take it from me, he likes you.”

You sighed. While he did sound convincing, you really didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I guess so. I hope you’re right,” you replied, until it finally dawned on you.

“Wait, how did you know I liked him?” You asked, brows furrowing.

He wheezed in response, nearly choking on a bit of his apple.

“Well, shit, is everyone in this lab oblivious, or what?” He chuckled, “trust me, though! I’m a guy. I know how guys act. I mean, he brings you coffee every morning, for Pete’s sake.”

“That’s exactly what makes him so confusing! He took the time out of his day to memorize how I like my coffee, and yet every time I try to talk to him he acts like– he acts like I’m some sort of pest!” You couldn’t tell if you were angry or sad, probably both.

“That’s what I’m telling you! He just doesn’t know how to act around you.” He took another bite of his apple, “I’ve gotta go help Trevor with something back at the firehouse. I’ll catch you later, (First Name),” Gary took his leave, making his way down the hall.

You sat back down at your desk, sinking into your chair as his words replayed in your head. Was it really true? Could it be possible that the person Lucky was teasing Lars about just before your arrival– was it you?

After what seemed to be a few more minutes, Lars finally returned to the bathroom and began working on his usual projects. You decided to leave him alone, sinking into your own work, or at least trying to. But you couldn’t help the fact that Lars was living rent free in the back of your mind, hindering your focus at every opportunity.

Looking back down at your paper, you finally came to terms with the fact that no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn’t be able to get any work done until you found out the truth. No matter how painful that truth may be.

“Lars?” You called out, turning in your chair.

“What is it this time?”

You huffed, part of you wondering if you should have just taken that response as an answer in itself.

“Why do you hate me so much?” The question came out sounding far more vulnerable than you intended.

He sighed, one of his hands messily making its way through his hair.

“I don’t,” there was a painfully long pause, “hate you.”

That response in itself was enough to surprise you. But you wanted more.

“I don’t understand.” you replied. “You avoid me at almost every chance you get, and you’re always mean to me. You bring me coffee every morning and yet every time I try to get closer to you, you push me away.”

You heard him groan, his head in his hands as he exasperatedly threw his head back. 

“You’re intolerable,” he said. “I hate the way that you bite the tip of your pen, I hate how you twirl your hair around your fingers, I hate your stupid sense of humor, I hate–” 

You were about to open your mouth and you weren’t sure if you were about to tell him to go fuck himself or that you hated him just as equally. Neither of which you would’ve actually meant, but you could feel yourself grow hurt, angry, and confused all at the same time with every word he said.

He seemed to contemplate whether or not to continue, “I hate how beautiful you are without even trying! Do you know how hard it is to focus whenever you’re near me?”

Oh.

It all made sense now. You felt your fists unclench and timed seem to slow down as your brain needed time to process what he just said.

Your legs seemed to move on their own as you approached Lars’ tense form. His hands clutched either side of his desk as his head hung low.

“Lars–” your voice was low and gentle.

“Please don’t say anything,” he pleaded. “I know you must be repulsed by me and that’s no one’s fault but my own–”

You’re not sure what came over you, but you quickly tilted his head towards you, standing on your tippy toes as you pressed your lips against his. His breath seemed to get caught in the pit of his throat as he stood completely frozen.

You quickly pulled away the moment you didn’t feel him kiss back, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked–”

Your apology was quickly interrupted by the feeling of his hands tenderly gripping the sides of your face as he pulled you back in for another kiss. One of his arms wrapped around your waist and gently pressed your body up against his, a low grumble escaping his chest.

Your tongue gently grazed his bottom lip, requesting an entrance as you felt him exhale against you. He melted into you as he pressed your back against the front of his desk, one of his legs finding their way in between your thighs. Your hands made their way into his soft blonde curls, gently tugging on them as he let out another groan. Your bodies felt like they were melting into one other, like you belonged with each other. 

“Do you have any idea how painfully irresistible you are?” He grumbled into your skin, his lips pressing against the lower part of your jaw.

You sharply inhaled through your teeth. The feeling of him kissing down your neck sending a shiver down your spine.

“I hadn’t realized you were so pent up,” you replied, nails digging into the back of his uniform.

“Spent so many late nights where you were all I could think about. You have no idea how frustrating that was, do you?” his leg pressed against you, making you squirm.

“Why d’you think I kept trying to get closer to you? I love looking at your stupidly handsome face,” you murmured, licking your lips and going in to kiss him again.

“That right?” his head was tilted as his teeth sunk down on your lower lip.

“It is,” you felt yourself growing needy.

“Ahem!”

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat could be heard throughout the lab as you both quickly pulled away from each other. Eyes darting to the source of the nose, you were both met by sight of Winston standing in the doorway.

“I was about to congratulate the both of you on your latest findings, but it seems like the two of you are.. busy right now.” He bore an awkward expression, “look, I’ll come back another time. But please not in the lab. That’s disgusting.”

You awkwardly chuckled, “yeah, no. Of course. That’s– we’re at work that would be so unsanitary. And gross. We would never–” Lars had to interrupt your awkward rambling by giving you a quick nudge.

Winston gave the both of you an awkward nod as he quickly walked off.

“Would you want to get takeout on the way home? I can drive you,” Lars meekly suggested.

You couldn’t fight the smile that pricked at the sides of your mouth, “that sounds lovely, Lars.”

[gardensgatekeeper]

Angel Straight from Hell

There’s a little devil in all of us, angel. 

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, Danny Wagner x Reader, Jake Kiszka x Danny Wagner

Word Count: 6,075

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Drinking, language, cheating? (if you squint), mentions of infidelity, jealousy, degradation, fluff, angst, (slight) overstimulation, oral sex (m and f receiving), digital penetration, penetrative sex (f receiving), cocky/dom Danny and Jake (because that needs a warning of its own), use of blindfold/restraints. Pure filth. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Note: This story was previously written in four short parts but I’ve combined them into one (slightly) longer read to make it a bit easier! So just a heads up if you’ve already read the previous three parts, this is updated to include what would have been part four! I also just wanted to say the biggest thank you again for the immense support on this little idea. This is the first time I’ve written something like this so needless to say, I’ve felt in over my head quite a bit but this has been really fun to write!

You and Jake had been together for nearly a year and don’t get it  wrong, the sex was nothing short of life changing, but lately, you had been a little eager to spice things up a bit. When you initially brought up the idea of a threesome, he brushed it off. You should have figured he would be too jealous to ever say yes to such a request. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, he just wasn’t a fan of sharing his toys with anyone, especially not a complete stranger. 

Weeks later you found yourself at a bar with the guys as they celebrated finishing their newest album. Drink after drink, you noticed yourself becoming more flirty, as alcohol always had that effect on you. As you clung to Jake's side, your eyes were also set on the tall dark haired drummer standing adjacent to you. 

Has he always been that hot?

Your eyes must have given you away because it was only a few minutes before Danny made his way over to you, the musky scent immediately filling your senses. He casually leaned down so his mouth hovered over your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine. 

“I see the way you’ve been eye fucking me all night. Does he not satisfy you anymore? Or are you just a greedy little whore?” He whispered. Your thighs immediately clamped together and there was no way you weren’t dripping with desire right now. 

Jake must have noticed you tense up because he turned to check on you. “You okay?” He asked with concern. “Yeah, I just need to use the bathroom really quick.” you replied before practically running off to splash cold water on your face. Gripping the sink, you stared at your reflection in the mirror for a moment before taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. “Snap out of it, this is wrong.” 

“Is angel afraid to ask for what she wants?” Your eyes flew open to see Danny suddenly behind you. “You know, I think it’s a shame he’s trying to keep you so tame. I can see the devil behind those eyes.” 

He moved closer, pressing you against the sink. You could immediately feel how hard he was. His fingers slowly and delicately dragged from your neck down to your wrist, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. One hand made its way further down and slipped under your dress, teasing the band of your underwear. Still trying to contain any sense of dignity and composure, you tried to suppress the whimper aching to be released, but of course Danny heard it, his free hand coming up to your throat. “Tell me what you want.” He husked. 

“Please,” You quietly breathed, needing some sort of relief. “Ah ah. Use your words angel.” He taunted. “Touch me. Fucking touch me Danny. I need you, please.” You begged. He wasted no time in slipping his hand to your sensitive core, teasing your clit. “Completely soaked.” He grinned. You normally weren’t a big fan of cockiness, especially from anyone else. But in this moment, watching him ruin you was the hottest thing you’d ever witnessed and you were ready to fold. 

Too soon, his hand retreated, making a whine leave your lips. He brought his hand up to his mouth. His eyes met yours in the mirror, making sure you watched him clean your juices that coated his fingers. “Tastes like heaven.” He hummed. Fucking hell.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were about to burst at the seams and needed relief. Turning around, you all but shoved Danny to the ground and he quickly got the hint, understanding just what you wanted. “You better make it quick, I'm sure Jake is already wondering what’s taking so long.” You breathed out.

Practically ripping your underwear off, his mouth quickly attached to your folds before his tongue began swirling around, sending you into overdrive. Your hands knotted in his thick curls, needing something to hold onto for leverage. “Fuck Danny, don’t stop.” You gasped out.

You threw your head back and screwed your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm quickly building. “Eyes on me angel. I wanna see you cum.” He whispered out. You looked down at the sight, wondering how the hell you got here. His eyes met yours and you could have sworn you saw the devil grinning back at you. Moments later, you reached your peak and had to cover your mouth to contain the slightly pornographic moans trying to escape your body.

No sooner than you came down from your high, a knock sounded at the door. “Y/N, are you in there?” Shit! You quickly shoved Danny away but Jake was already halfway in the bathroom, stopping completely in his tracks as he very quickly realized what just went down. Expecting him to be angry and start shouting, you started to try and explain but he just shushed you.

His face was emotionless and that absolutely terrified you. Without saying anything, he simply grabbed your hand like nothing was wrong and led you out of the bar. Just before you exited the bathroom, you shot Danny a confused look, however, it seemed like he also didn’t know what was happening.

Jake was still silent as you both made your way to his car, but you were too scared to say anything else, not knowing what was going through his mind. It was only when he helped you into the passenger seat that you realized Danny still had your underwear. Mentally cursing yourself, you tried to keep a cool composure, despite the uncomfortable feeling still between your legs.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

—

As soon as the two of you got home, Jake dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door and headed upstairs. Of course, you followed hot on his trail, still trying to explain yourself but all you were met with was a soft, emotionless, “I don’t want to talk about it tonight Y/N.” The way he said your name instead of the way he always used some version of a pet name stung worse than it should have. You knew he had to be feeling something – anger, jealousy, sadness – but he was just calm. He entered the bathroom attached to the bedroom, locking himself in for a few minutes to get ready for bed. You paced outside the door, wondering if you had completely ruined the only good thing in your life. Had you selfishly thrown away a perfectly good relationship for one night of pleasure?

Jake soon emerged and walked past you as he made his way to the bed, setting his phone on the charger on the nightstand. “Jake.” You whispered out again, “Please talk to me.” This time, he did, turning towards you ever so slightly, which got your hopes up just a little. Truthfully, you’d take him yelling and throwing things over this deafening silence any day. “Goodnight Y/N.” He said as he flipped the light off, leaving you standing in the now dark room. Your heart sank to the floor as the tears began to stream down your face. How were you going to fix this?

Your head hung low as you walked out into the hallway, opting to sleep on the couch tonight because the thought of sleeping next to someone who wants absolutely nothing to do with you was just too painful to bear. Luckily, you had just done laundry earlier that day, so you headed back downstairs to grab a change of clothes before making your way to your makeshift bed for the evening. You heard your phone ding nearby, only then remembering dropping it in the bowl with Jake’s keys earlier. When you checked the notification, you saw a text from an unsaved number.

Unknown: Hey it’s Danny. Got your number from Josh. How are things?

You: He won’t talk to me. I really fucked up. I shouldn’t have done it and I don’t know how I’m gonna fix it.

Danny: It was a mutual decision Y/N. We were both in the wrong. Just let him sleep it off. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Get some rest.

You sighed, placing your phone back on the table before dropping face first on the couch. The guilt and regret was eating you alive as you cried yourself to sleep, wishing there was any way you could go back in time and fix things.

—

The next morning, you woke up confused as you were no longer on the couch, but back in your bed. Your heart panged a bit as you turned to find the empty spot next to you neatly made up. As your senses began to wake up, you smelled coffee brewing, immediately hopping out of bed to find Jake standing in front of the bay window watching the sun slowly peek over the trees in the backyard. He must have heard you come downstairs as he gently spoke up, his voice almost sounding foreign as you hadn’t heard it in so long. “Poured you a cup. Two sugars and a dash of creamer, just how you like it.” You muttered a “Thank you” before finding the mug sitting on the counter by the coffee pot. Walking over to him, you sat your mug down on the side table before turning to him. “Jake, about last night.” You started. 

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?” He whispered out, his words stabbing through your heart like a sword. “Jake, no. No, that’s not it at all. I just, I don’t know, I was drunk and I know that’s not an excuse but you were busy and it just happened. I’m sorry Jake. I wish I could take it back, I really do. I fucked up and I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

He was silent for a moment as if taking in your words to determine his next response. “Is that what you really wanted though? With Danny?” An unknown tone lacing his words. “It’s not something I planned on happening, but it just did.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. Did you enjoy it?” He asked.

Oh. Unsure of exactly what he was getting at, you decided to tread lightly to test the waters. “I mean yeah it was good, but nothing compared to you Jake. Nobody could ever make me feel as good as you do.” You replied honestly.

He shifted towards you, setting his coffee mug beside yours. You held your breath as you had no idea what his next move was going to be. Taking you completely off guard, Jake moved his hand to ghost ever so slightly over the top of the waistband of your shorts. His hands worked their way in, sliding his fingers over your core as you shuddered against his touch. Without warning, he slipped a finger in, a shaky gasp leaving your lips.

“Like this?” Your eyes were screwed shut but you could still sense the smirk on his face. “Jake.” You quietly moaned out, gripping his arm for support. Knowing he had you under his spell, he inserted another finger and your knees almost buckled when he began to curl them inwards. “Fuck!”

“I bet he doesn’t know all your favorite spots like I do.” Taking his other free hand, he lifted up your shirt before taking your left exposed nipple in his hand, twisting and pulling it until they were rock hard. You gasped out in a mix of pain and pleasure when he latched on, gently biting down on the sensitive bud for a moment before his lips ghosted your ear. “Doesn’t know that you’re an absolute whore for me. For my fingers. Isn’t that right?” You could hear the snarky tone that laced his words. Is he jealous?

“Only for you Jake. Please don’t stop.” You begged, already feeling the familiar pressure building in your core. “Oh trust me angel, you’ll be begging me to stop soon enough.” He continued curling his fingers around your bundle of nerves until cried out as you reached your high, but he kept going, teetering you on the edge of overstimulation. “C’mon, give me another one. Show me how sorry you are. Cum for me again like the desperate whore you are.” He demanded, not slowing down. Moments later you were gasping out as another orgasm ripped through you. “I can’t…Jake…” You failed to formulate a full sentence, but he knew. He withdrew his fingers, a quiet whimper escaping your mouth from the empty feeling. You were still holding on to his arm, barely able to keep yourself up as your legs felt like jelly.

You looked up at Jake as he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked his fingers clean of your release. “Tastes like heaven.” Your mind clouded with thoughts as you immediately remembered the same words muttered by his best friend and bandmate just the night before.

Snap out of it Y/N, that’s what got you in trouble in the first place!

“Let’s get you cleaned up shall we?” He smirked as he scooped you in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom upstairs, running a warm bath with your favorite lavender soaks. You sighed in complete relaxation from the warm water but also feeling like things were okay again with Jake. He sat beside you, the two of you just enjoying each other's company without needing to speak. You noticed he was checking his phone quite a bit, assuming it was probably one of the guys since they had a shared group chat to discuss all things band related. Or by the smirk on his face, maybe one of them sent something funny? Whatever the reason was, you decided to shut your eyes and just relax for a few more minutes.

That was, until he spoke up again. "By the way, we're having company tonight."

Your eyes immediately shot open as you turned your head to look towards him.  Company? You had a bad feeling about this.

“Oh, uh are the guys coming over?” You asked, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. “Yeah, something like that.” He replied. You could’ve sworn you saw a faint smirk ghost over his lips but before you could even be sure, it was gone.

Still weary of Jake’s behavior and unsure of where exactly you two stood, you decided to do whatever you could to stay in his good graces, starting by putting on his favorite lingerie set under your shorts and t-shirt when you got out of the bath. Afterwards, you headed downstairs, turning his favorite vinyl record on while you headed into the kitchen to make his favorite recipe.

Jake must have noticed as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around the front of your waist as his lips ghosted your ear. “What’s all this?” He hummed softly. “I just want to show you how much I love you. You mean everything to me Jake.” You replied honestly. “So you’re not just trying to butter me up as a way to make me forget what happened last night?”

There it was.

“Jake, what do you want me to say? I said I was sor-” He interrupted you before you could finish the sentence. “I’m just messing with you love. Now c’mere, I think I’d rather just skip to dessert anyways.”

His hands suddenly gripped your ass as he turned and lifted you up on the counter. You let out a little squeal of surprise as this was not quite what you were expecting. His hands roamed up your legs before pulling your shirt up until the fabric covering your breasts was exposed. The second he saw the lacy material, he immediately froze and looked up at you with eyes so dark, you could see your reflection in them. “Upstairs, on the bed. Now.” He growled. “When I get up there, you better only be in this.” He said, pulling the strap of your bra up before letting it snap back against your skin, making you gasp out from the slight sting.

You practically slid down from the counter and he aggressively gripped your ass again with one more demand. “And if you so much as think about touching yourself, think again.” Half-sprinting up to the bedroom, you thought about how you should be scared. How you should be so nervous about what was to come, but truthfully, you were so fucking turned on by his slightly aggressive demeanor.

Obeying his command, you stripped out of the worn t-shirt and shorts before situating yourself on the bed in a rather revealing position. Minutes passed as you waited for Jake to come upstairs, becoming more impatient as the time went on. You were starting to get antsy, the wetness in your panties starting to feel uncomfortable as it only reminded you of the pleasure you started feeling some time ago that was now a distant memory. You knew he had to be testing you, a sort of sick version of revenge. As much as you wanted to defy him, you were already treading on thin ice and you didn’t need another nail in the coffin.

After what felt like hours (though was realistically no more than ten minutes), your lover finally stumbled up the stairs. He wore a pleased look on his face when he saw that you had obeyed his request. “So she can listen after all?” He smirked as he made his way over to you. “Up to the headboard darling.” He whispered in your ear. Jake then walked kneeled to the ground as he pulled a small box from underneath the bed. Your eyes widened at the realization of the box’s contents. “Do you trust me, Y/N?” You nodded profusely but that wasn’t good enough for him. “Words. I need you to say it.” He offered softly. “Yes Jake. I trust you.” Your response was met with a quiet “Good girl” and you almost moaned out right then.

You watched as Jake pulled a couple items from the box - a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs. Your legs subconsciously clamped together at the thought of what he had planned for you. That box was typically only reserved for special nights. You weren’t quite sure what was so special about this one, but you weren’t complaining.

Jake gently took your hands in his as he fixed the metal restraints on your wrists before attaching them to the headboard. He looked to you for confirmation that they weren’t too tight against your wrists before grabbing the blindfold that he had placed on the bed beside you. With two senses gone, the rest were heightened as they were now your only means at knowing what was going on around you. You listened intently as you heard Jake move around the room.

“I’m right here, Y/N.” His reassurance was exactly what you needed as you felt his hands start to explore your exposed body. They felt a little rougher but you just chalked it up to the fact that your body was so hyper aware of his touch. His hands moved up your hips to reach behind your back, unclasping the hook that held your breasts. You then felt him grasp your flesh as he sucked on the skin, sure to leave a mark. “Fuck, Jake, don’t stop.” You moaned out.

You softly whimpered out when his movements halted until you felt his hands on your hips. He traced his fingers delicately above the waistline of your panties and you bucked your hips up in response. “Please Jake. Stop teasing.” You heard him chuckle, but it seemed a little too quiet considering how close he was to you.

He finally slipped the fabric down your legs before moving his attention back to your core. He slowly began rubbing circles on your clit, making you moan out once again. Before you knew it, he entered a finger and you clenched around it. You heard him grunt out, his voice a bit deeper than usual but nonetheless, you continued to cry out when he inserted another finger. His fingers curled inside you as you felt your orgasm quickly approaching. 

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more pleasure, you felt his mouth cling to your swollen clit and gasped out. “Fuck Jake, I’m gonna-” You screamed out. “Do it.” His tone was taunting, as if daring you to do it. Once again, his voice sounded a bit distant, but your head was too clouded by the immense pleasure being given to give it a second thought. With one more thrust of his fingers in your soaked cunt, you cried out as your orgasm overtook you.

When his fingers were removed, you whimpered out, a mix between still being sensitive and sudden empty feeling. The bed dipped as you felt him climb up towards you. You felt his fingers rest on top of your lips and you gladly opened up to taste yourself on him. “Tastes like heaven, doesn’t it angel?”

Your body froze at the sudden realization. Danny. As if he could sense your change in demeanor, he pulled his finger from your mouth and removed the blindfold from your eyes. You squinted for a moment to get used to the light change before focusing your attention on the male in front on top of you. Just as quickly, your head whipped around until you found Jake sitting in a chair in the corner of the room with the biggest smirk on his face.

“What the fuck is going on?” You practically yelled out. Jake stood up and walked over to you before responding. “Well, Daniel and I had a little chat about what happened the other night and since it seemed like you enjoyed it quite a bit, we thought, why not continue the fun? Isn’t that right Daniel?” He grinned, turning towards his friend and bandmate.

“Absolutely. Jake had to see firsthand just how responsive his whore was to my touch. You feel like a wet dream clenched around my fingers like that. Almost came from just watching you squirm under me angel.” Though you were in complete shock at first at the fact that they had been scheming behind your back, your mind quickly switched gears as you decided to play along with their game.

“Is that all you two got?”

It was like a flip had switched in both of the men in front of you as their eyes immediately darkened. Danny was the first to act, quickly freeing your wrists before turning his attention to Jake as if silently communicating what their next move would be. Danny backed away momentarily as Jake sauntered to you still spread out on the bed. He gripped his hand in your hair just enough that the pleasure overtook the pain.

“You wanna play with the devil baby? Don’t start crying when you get burned.” He practically growled in your ear. You whimpered softly as his words shot straight down to your core. “On the floor. Get on your knees.” He ordered and you obeyed, practically jumping off the bed. You stared up at him in front of you, waiting for your next command. Instead, he just let out an annoyed puff of air before speaking. “What the fuck are you waiting for? I’d expect you to know what to do by now.” He husked out.

Nodding your head, you quickly fumbled to unhook his belt. Even though it was covered by his boxers, you could see just how pent up he was, his swollen dick throbbing under the constraints of the black fabric. Still, you couldn’t help but slowly palm him, absolutely loving the way he felt in your hands.

“Y/N, this is not the time to be a fucking tease. If your mouth is not wrapped around my cock in the next thirty sec-”

Jake didn’t even have time to finish his sentence before you yanked his boxers down and licked a long stripe up his length, making him shudder in utter pleasure. “Fuck.” He whispered out. This was one of things you adored about Jake - watching him come undone from even the slightest touch. It got you off as much as it did him.

But being the impatient person he is, this wasn’t the time for slow, delicate touches. His hands found their way back in your hair as he shoved his dick down your throat without warning, making you gag a bit before, quickly having to adjust. Tears began to leak from your eyes as he rammed in and out of your mouth, forcing himself even deeper. You gagged again as he hit the back of your throat. Jake let out a breathy chuckle at your slight struggle before looking up at Danny, who was intently watching the scene in front of him.

“See Daniel, this is how you get her to shut up. Give her something better to do with that mouth. Tends to get her in a bit of trouble sometimes.” He turned his attention back to you before continuing. “I bet you do it on purpose though. Love to get me all riled up so I have no choice. Isn’t that right?” He taunted. You knew he obviously wasn’t expecting you to answer but you still nodded your head in response. He finally pulled out and you gasped for air, your lungs burning as the oxygen finally rushed back in.

“Doesn’t she look so pretty Daniel? Face all red and fucked out from taking my cock so well.” Jake directed towards his band mate. “Shit yeah. So fuckin’ hot.” He replied, slightly caught off guard at the attention that suddenly had been directed towards him.

“Y/N, why don’t you go show our dear Daniel just how much you love his dick. Treat him well, hm? He is our guest after all.” You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. Sure, Jake had a slightly smug side to him, but you had never seen him quite like this before. Even though you knew you were the one really running the show here, the way Jake was taking the lead and sweetly demanding orders was the hottest thing you’d ever witnessed. You made a mental note to bring this up later as it was a side you definitely wanted to see again.

Danny’s eyes followed you as you moved back towards the bed. He followed suit, sitting back on the mattress as you slowly made your way closer to him. It felt so strange having someone other than Jake in front of you, but you quickly reminded yourself that this is something you wanted. It was one thing to hookup with your boyfriend’s best friend in the privacy of a bathroom. It was another to have your boyfriend and best friend essentially plot a threesome behind your back. This was completely new territory and you had no idea what you were doing. As if Jake could sense your slight hesitation, you heard him speak out. “It’s okay Y/N. I’m right here behind you. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you want to st-”

You turned slightly towards him, but your attention was glued to the floor. “No, I want to. I just.” You paused. “He’ll take good care of you, I promise. Won’t you Daniel?” He posed. Danny mumbled out a “Of course” before you felt his hand gently grab your chin, directing your attention back to him. “Do you trust me Y/N?” His brown eyes were so warm and inviting and you nodded.  “Yes, Danny. I trust you.” You replied honestly.

In reply, Danny gently pulled you on his lap and leaned in closer before connecting his lips to yours. Though it was just a simple kiss, it did work to slightly distract you as you shut your eyes and just enjoyed the moment. Danny continued to slowly test your comfort level, increasing the intensity of the kiss, grabbing your ass to pull you impossibly closer. Soon enough you found yourself subconsciously grinding against his lap, needing to get some sort of relief. “Christ Y/N. You’re gonna be the death of me.” Danny muttered. “As much as I want to flip you over and fuck you senseless right now, Jake might actually kill me if he didn’t get you first.” You chuckled a bit as you heard Jake call out “You’re damn right” from behind you.

Danny shifted his position a bit to kick his boxers off and you gaped as his dick sprang free. Compared to Jake, Danny was a bit bigger, though not quite as thick. Still, you were completely mesmerized as your hands slowly found their way to his raging erection. He watched you intently as your head lowered, slowly taking him in your mouth. He hissed out and instinctively bucked his hips up. You gagged as Danny gently pushed your head down until his tip reached the back of your throat, quickly grabbing onto his thighs for support as you hollowed your cheeks to be able to take him fully. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You continued to bob your head up and down, using your hands to work the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You jumped slightly as you felt another pair of hands on your hips before realizing it was just Jake. “It’s only me love. You still good?” He chuckled out, though still fully serious. You nodded your head to the best of your ability while it was still wrapped around Danny’s cock. “You look so pretty taking his cock so well. Think you can handle two at once? Or is that too much for you?”

Briefly removing your mouth from Danny, you verbalized consent for him to continue. Though you were nervous as fuck, you knew you Jake would never force you to do anything you weren’t completely on board with.

With your hands on Danny’s thighs for support, you continued to bob your head up and down. Jake teased himself against your slick folds before inserting himself all the way. The vibrations of the moan they came from within you made Danny sigh out a breathy “Shit, so fuckin’ good.” You’d never felt this full before and it was truly an unreal experience. Jake continued to thrust so unforgivingly from behind while Danny was on the verge of unraveling. Moments later, you felt his warm release fill your mouth and you pulled back to show that you had swallowed every last drop, earning a fucked out grin from him.

Jake then pulled you up closer to his chest before whispering in your ear. “Did you treat our guest as I asked? I hope you were a good girl for him.” You could only nod in agreeance as he began to toy with your clit while still fucking you relentlessly. Your eyes were screwed shut but somehow you could still see the smug look on his face. “That’s my girl.”

Your senses were being pushed to their limits when you suddenly felt a pair of hands tending to your breasts. When you opened your eyes, you gasped out at the sight of Danny playing with the buds of your nipples until they were rock hard. He latched onto one and the moan you let out echoed throughout the room. The combination of both his and Jake's touches had you teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“Fuck, ple-, I’m gonna-” You couldn’t even form full sentences as the pleasure clouded your brain. “You think we should let her finish Daniel? Think she’s earned it?” Jake teased. You couldn’t help but cry out pathetic begs, needing to finish. Looking down at Danny, you gave your biggest doe eyes to plead with him. “Please Danny, can I cum?” You cried out as Jake hit another spot of pleasure within you.

You saw Danny’s eyes flick up to Jake’s as if asking for approval to be the deciding voice before he looked back at you. “Cum for me Y/N. Cum on Jake’s cock.” He demanded.

You practically screamed out as the white hot pleasure seemed to overtake you instantly, having to grab onto Danny’s shoulders for support so you wouldn’t fall. Jake let you catch your breath as you came down from your high before gently pulling out. Danny grabbed your chin and met your eyes. “Don’t think you’re finished just yet, do you angel? Now come here and give me one more. Think you can do that for me?” His voice sounded so sweet but was laced with a slight demanding tone. You simply nodded in response and he not-so-gently pushed you to lay back on the bed.

Without any warning, he lined his tip up before slamming his cock into you all at once, making you cry out from how sensitive you were. His eyes softened for a moment to make sure your cries weren’t from pain and you reassured him. “Please, keep going. Fuck me Danny.” You practically begged. He didn’t waste any time in continuing to thrust into you completely. Looking over, you hadn’t noticed that Jake was standing off to the side of the bed, tending to his own needs as he watched the scene unfolding before him. Watching his best friend fuck his girlfriend.

Between that thought and Danny moving your leg above his shoulder, hitting an even deeper pleasure point, you moaned out a plethora of praises to both guys that you knew would go straight to their heads (and dicks).

You could feel the band in your core starting to tighten once again as you clenched around Danny. His eyes darkened as he spoke out. “So beautiful Y/N. You look like a fuckin’ goddess I swear. God I want to take a picture and hang it above my fireplace so I never forget how good you look wrapped around my cock. So fuckin perfect.” His words sent shivers down your spine as you clenched around him again.

“Watch it Wagner. You may have her right now, but she’s still my girl.” You heard Jake rasp out from beside you.

Danny turned back to you and grinned before speaking again. “Yeah but don’t forget what got us here in the first place. Someone wasn’t doing their job properly. Wasn’t fucking the poor little thing enough.” He huffed.

Jake groaned out a “Fuck you” which Danny immediately returned. You sat up a bit and grabbed Danny’s chin to bring his attention back to you. “Hey moron, why don’t you finish fucking me first then you can fuck him.” You quipped back, only half-joking. His eyes shot up in surprise as he very quickly directed his full attention back to you.

Switching positions, Danny pulled you on his lap and fucked you harder than anyone ever had before. With just a few more thrusts, your body begged for release and Danny didn’t waste any time getting you there. “Fuck!” You cried out as yet another orgasm overtook you, simultaneously feeling Danny’s hot release shoot inside you. You collapsed forward on his chest, listening to Danny’s heart beating at an increased rate.

You looked over at Jake as you heard his silent grunts, signaling his own finish, the white ivory stripes painted across his stomach. With a fucked out smile, he walked over to the bed. You sat up a bit before leaning over towards him to lick his stomach clean of his release. He leaned down to you, connecting his lips to yours as he could taste himself on you.

“You did so good. So proud of you baby.” He praised. Danny gently tapped your thighs, signifying that he was going to pull out, making a slight whimper leave your lips. You rolled over to lay back on the bed. As you turned your head, you saw the two conversing as they headed towards the bathroom, most likely to grab a washcloth.

The exhaustion from the recent activities suddenly caught up to you as your eyes began to feel immensely heavy. Just before you drifted off into a deep sleep, you felt a hot breath in your ear and a voice spoke out, “I knew there was a little devil hiding in you angel.”

✶ ✶ ✶

Taglist:

@starcatcherchords @jannysarcher @bimbokiszka @itsdannysworld @dannys-dream @ignite-my-love @stardustcatcher