#(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}

[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.

****

[sencrose]

— COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS, I’LL COUNT MY SINS

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

tags: DUBCON, coercion/heavy manipulation, stalking by proxy, fingering, cunnilingus, breeding, power imbalance, reader can see curses but is not a sorcerer/curse user, one mention of making reader into a mother lol

wc: 4.9k

a/n: idk what to say lol this has been in my drafts for 3 years and i’ve been working on it on and off since ‘21 so if the writing style feels all over the place it’s because it is. ao3 link here

summary: suguru usually doesn't pay any mind non-sorcerers, but when he realizes you can see the cursed spirit wrapped around him, his interest is piqued. he'll bring you to him, using less than savory methods.

To no one’s surprise, Suguru Geto, the most wanted curse user in Jujutsu society, is not a big fan of outings. Especially those in Tokyo. Then again, he promised the girls that he would take them on a day out. Nanako and Mimiko being the trendy teens they are, insisted on a day in the city. So he finds himself in some trendy cafe with overpriced drinks and photogenic food. The girls are excited of course, saying it’s something they’ve been eyeing out on Instagram for the past few months.

As soon as he steps into the cafe, he’s greeted with the sickly-sweet aroma of baked goods wafting through the air. It’s decadent and overwhelming, as if the simple act of inhaling will coat the back of his throat with syrup. It’s safe to say he won’t be ordering anything for himself but a black coffee. The walls are a rosy pink, decorated with frames of dried flowers and neon light fixtures of faux-inspirational quotes. The glass case at the front of the store has various arrays of grandiose drinks and picture-perfect desserts on display.

While the girls are dressed for the occasion, Suguru sticks out like a sore thumb in his casual attire of a loose t-shirt and jeans. He could have dressed up a bit more, but something about matching outfits with a dessert he’s not going to order doesn’t sit right with him. More importantly, the thing that sticks out most about him isn’t his outfit or the lack of photos he’s taking on his phone; it’s the unsightly worm sitting around his shoulder.

It’s for protection. Any regular citizen won’t be able to see it and if he were to be spotted by a sorcerer, it’s good to have a weapon on hand.

As he waits at a table with the girls, he can’t help but notice someone staring at him. Upon another glance, your stare isn’t necessarily aimed at him, but the creature on his shoulder. An alarm in his head is ringing, but he maintains his cool composure, not wanting to worry the girls. He can never be too careful. It may have been nearly a decade since he’s been cast aside by Jujutsu society, but he still has a death warrant above his head.

There are three options. First, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer sent to kill him. You haven’t made a move or shown any signs of calling for help, so he could rule that out. Second, you’re a curse user. Then again, you haven’t hidden your gaze. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. He can feel your eyes burn a hole into his shoulder. Any curse user worth their salt wouldn’t be so obvious. So that leaves the last option: you’re an unfortunate civilian who was born with the ability to see cursed spirits. It may be a curse to some, but to Suguru’s eyes, this was a blessing. An opportunity.

He should be disgusted with this intrigue; you aren’t a sorcerer after all. But this is different. 

Your lingering stare has nothing to do with his status as one of the most despicable sorcerers of all time, nor does it have anything to do with the false religion he runs. It has everything to do with the deformed worm wrapped around him. Suguru excuses himself from the table, as he makes his way towards you. His steps are careful, calculated, with his shoes gently tapping against the linoleum floor.

“Is something the matter?” He wears a smile on his face, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, feigning politeness. His sudden question causes you to jump, briefly taking you out of your staring contest with the creature wrapped around him.

“N-no, sorry.” You can’t bear to look him in the eye, your gaze going back and forth between the worm on his shoulder and the half-eaten dessert on your plate.

“Is there something on my shoulder?” He looks past the creature resting so casually on him. You immediately ball your hands into fists, knuckles white with how tight you’re squeezing. Regret blooms in your chest, your heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your ears. You never should have looked in his direction.

“No, I’m just… just spacing out a little. My bad.” you lie through your teeth, hoping the explanation is enough for him to leave you alone.

“No, my apologies. Enjoy your meal.” he leaves it at that, offering a wave as he walks away.

He walks back to his table with his hands in his pockets, an air of nonchalance to him. He leaves you alone, for now. That doesn’t stop him from stealing a look or two on occasion. He finds it cute, how flustered you get when your eyes match his for a split second. He can see your heart skip a beat when your body jolts a bit out of your seat.

You remind him of a helpless rabbit, the way your hand slightly trembles as you bring up your fork for a bite of your pastry. He ponders the idea of taking you apart, piece by piece, savoring your pleas and cries as if they’re part of a decadent three course meal.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he takes a sip of his black coffee, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

Maybe the girls could use a mother.

—

You’re used to strange sights every now and then. It’s something nobody around you ever seemed to understand, dismissing your long-winded descriptions of horrors as an overactive imagination. You’ve since given up on explaining your visions to others, but they haven’t given up on you.

They sit on people’s shoulders, hover around their heads, and stare into your soul, as if they’re aware that their existence is a dirty little secret kept between the two of you.

Over the years, you’ve learned that the easiest way to deal with them is to treat them like an unsightly drunk: leave them alone and you’ll be left alone. Do not, under any circumstances, make eye contact. Do not acknowledge its existence no matter how scared you are. Of course, you’re not perfect; sometimes you see something so strange you can’t help but look. Especially as of late, it’s been becoming more and more difficult to hold yourself to your self-imposed standards.

It started with a small beige creature, with unsightly bulging eyes and translucent wings. It followed you everywhere, wings humming incessantly in your ear as it hovered around your shoulder. It eventually left after you refused to give it any attention, only to return with a swarm of its friends. Silence was a rarity. The noise only got louder as night approached, depriving you of a good night’s sleep.

It would be one thing if it ended there, but it only seemed to get worse as time passed by. If it wasn’t the constant buzzing, it’d be the strange things you’d find in front of your apartment door. Another deformed and wretched looking creature, sitting innocently on your welcome mat as if it has every right to be there. It burns a hole into your chest with its stare, presenting an toothy grin as it looks up to you.

By the time morning comes, it’s gone, leaving a single note in its place. It’s neatly folded in half, crisp black ink displaying a message that raises more questions than answers.

“Doesn’t it get tiring seeing them all the time? It’s only going to get worse the longer you wait. Why don’t you help me help you?”

Reading the note only adds to your sleep-deprived headache and dwelling on it isn’t going to make it better. Your eyes pass over the neat handwriting a few times before you fold it back up and leave it on your desk.

Truth be told, running on fumes for the last couple of weeks has taken a toll on you. You’ve fumbled simple tasks you’ve never messed up before;  dropping items while restocking, giving the wrong amount of change, handing over the wrong pack of smokes. It doesn’t help that your manager is quick to reprimand you, yelling his head off until his face turns red. There’s no use explaining or drawing up excuses. It’s not like he’d understand. It’s not like anyone would understand.

Your walk home is an exhausting one. Your steps and sighs are heavy, unsure how else you’re supposed to get this pressure off your chest. You would close your eyes for some relief if you weren’t convinced you’d fall asleep while walking. 

You can’t help but feel like something is watching you, or worse— following you. It’s different from the winged creatures. There’s no noise to accompany its presence but you can feel it in your bones – in the way your breath hitches, the way you're constantly looking over your shoulder for relief, but relief never comes.

A single street light flickers along the otherwise well lit street. It doesn’t feel right. It feels out of place compared to the rest of the road, but it is your normal walk home, and nothing’s ever gone wrong before.

Yet as you approach the light, the flickering becomes more erratic. It buzzes incessantly, growing louder, louder, nearly trembling until the bulb bursts into pieces.

Even with the absence of one streetlight, it shouldn’t be this dark. The road ahead fades into blackness as you walk forward. The darkness swallows everything whole. You try to walk back from where you came but the road you were walking on just seconds ago, is gone. Your hands tremble as you reach for your phone. You turn on the flashlight in an attempt to see anything. It doesn’t do much to help. 

Your heart is starting to race now as you try not to let panic set in. In all your days taking this commute, you’ve never experienced something like this before. Your fingers shake as you attempt to go through your contacts and text your coworker. You’re not too far from the store, they’re probably close by. As your finger presses on the arrow to send the message, a red exclamation point pops next to your text. Unable to send.

Was this always a dead zone?

You take a deep breath but it does little to soothe your nerves. You flash your light forward, attempting to continue your walk home, hoping that you can rest in the comfort of your bed soon. With each step you take, the air becomes uncomfortably cold as it fills your lungs. The darkness seems to be everlasting until you can barely make out a figure in the distance.

The sigh of relief seems to leave your body too soon as you start running towards it, desperate for help only for your steps to diminish upon a closer look.

A woman stands in front of you, long black hair obscuring her face with some features peeking out between the strands. Her smile looks inhuman, jagged sharp fangs unnaturally stretching out her mouth with drool leaking out of the corners. She stands disturbingly still in her disheveled white robe, her left hand bandaged and holding a pair of rusty snips.

“Am I beautiful?” she asks.

You open your mouth to attempt to answer, but fear takes over. It’s as if cotton blooms in your throat, choking you out of a proper response. Your hesitation only agitates her, as the grip around her snips tighten. The moment you’re able to blurt out an answer, the blade flies past you, grazing your cheek to draw blood.

Before you can muster a reaction, the street returns as swiftly as it disappeared, the previously flickering street lamp returned to its former glory. The woman is nowhere to be found, but you can feel the burn from the cut she’s left behind on your face.

The silence cradles you, chills you with its embrace. You turn your head, left, right, take a few steps back before looking around again. 

Any idea of a calm walk back is quickly thrown out the window. Desperation and dry air rushes into your lungs, harsh tramps slap against the pavement with a twinge of ache in your knees. Your legs burn as you push them to their absolute limit until you make it back to your apartment, clumsily scrambling through your key ring. You shake as you slam the key into the lock and turn. 

As soon as you get inside your apartment, you turn the lock with a heavy clack before collapsing onto the floor. You take a moment to recollect yourself, hand on your chest to steady your heaving as you swallow to alleviate the dryness in your throat. 

You jolt back into a panic when the sound of footsteps pass by, stopping right in front of your apartment. 

Knock. 

Your heart stills as you stare at the door. For a moment you swear it stares back.

Knock.

Time stands still as you hold your breath, desperately hoping that whoever’s outside leaves. 

A pen scribbles on your door for a moment, before the crisp sound of paper folding flits past your ears. With a gentle glide, a note slides under your door, landing right at your feet. 

“That looks like a rough cut. Are you sure you can keep living like this? What if it only gets worse? Help me help you. I can make them all disappear.” On the back is an address, which upon a quick search, leads to a monastery on the outskirts of Tokyo. 

You look back at your door, trembling as you contemplate looking through the peephole. 

With the gentlest steps you can muster, you approach the door, pressing your hand against it for balance as you look into the peephole. 

Nobody’s there. Still, you tremble. 

— 

You spend hours scouring the web to find anything about the monastery, which ends up with you on some seedy forums. Other users post about their experiences with spirits possessing them, all healed by a monk who goes by Geto-sama.

“I couldn’t get any sleep for months and Geto-sama healed me in a moment’s time!”

“This spirit was following me for weeks and I thought I was losing my mind. Geto-sama’s the only person who believed me and gave me the help I needed.”

“Geto-sama truly is a saint sent from above. He was kind and reassuring throughout the entire spirit removal process, and it was completely painless. I can finally feel like myself again.”

It’s nothing but pages upon pages of reviews saying how this Geto-sama is a miracle worker, nothing short of a God. The more you read, the more uneasy you feel. It seems too good to be true. You do your best to find something, anything resembling a bad or even neutral review, but your search is fruitless.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s the burning desire for a day of peace, but after reading countless testimonials you start to believe he can help you.

Maybe you could be convinced.

—

The heel of your shoes clack louder with each step you take up the stairs leading to the monastery. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you stare at the large wooden doors in front of you. It takes a decent amount of effort to push it open, creaking slightly as it reveals a dimly lit room.

You’re not too sure what to expect of this so-called savior. No matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find any pictures of the man in question. None of the reviews went much into detail about the process, just that all their problems were solved. He is supposedly kind, but it doesn’t seem to dull your nerves as you stand in the dark room.

You can make out a few things: pale bamboo flooring, intricate latticework windows with dark mahogany accents, and a man wearing a Buddhist robe standing at the back of the room.

He steps towards you, his face becoming clearer as he gets closer.

“What brings you here, little one?”

You know why you’re here, but the words dissipate in your throat as it sinks in that you recognize this man. The memory rushes back into your head; the cafe, the strange worm, his confrontation, the stolen glances.

Your mind races a million miles a minute, your heart beating a little harder, a little faster. Every nerve in your body is telling you to run but fear keeps you frozen. You’re barely able to mutter a weak plea,

“P-please don’t hurt me.”

Gentle fingertips hold your chin, tilting your head up to face him.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to save you.” His thumb delicately brushes against your bottom lip as he repeats himself. “Now tell me, why are you trembling so much?” Your lip quivers as he tilts your chin to meet his gaze. 

“Y-You. You’re the one that sent them after me, aren’t you? You’ve been leaving those notes at my door. I-I don’t know how but-”

He interrupts you with a melodramatic sigh.

“And what if I did?” A ball forms in your throat as you struggle to string your thoughts into cohesive sentences, only able to let out a meek, 

“Why?” Your body trembles as you take a step back. 

“Why not?” he retorts with a sly smile that sends a chill down your spine. 

“W-what do you want?” You take long steps back until your body is pressed against the door. Geto follows, making slow strides until he’s right in front of you. He’s so close you can see the rise and fall of his chest, the individual strands of obsidian that frame his face.

You try to open the door but it’s locked shut. He slowly steps towards you, your back pressing against the door.

His expression shifts, looking displeased as you struggle to escape.

“Are you leaving now?” He asks in a tone that is clearly meant to mock you, pouting his lips to feign concern. He grabs your hand as you continue your failed attempts to pull the door open. “And what are you going to do when you get home?” 

He doesn’t need to hear your answer; he can see it written on your face as your eyes shift between him and the grip on your wrist. A mix of uncertainty, fear, and helplessness. He knows he holds all the power. Who’s going to believe you? Who else can you turn to?

“Don’t you want to be saved from these evil spirits?” His hand gently caresses your cheek before sliding carefully down your neck. 

“Don’t you want to have a full night’s rest?” His hand continues to wander down, his arm wrapping around your waist. His face gets dangerously close to your face before he whispers, “To not live in fear?”

His gaze holds you still. When you can find it in yourself to look away, his hand holds your chin and forces your eyes to meet his. You shouldn’t be here – a realization you’ve made far too late. Like a snake wrapping around his prey, you’re well into his trap, ripe for the taking. There is no escape. So with a tightness in your chest, and a tremble in your voice, you let out a soft,

“Y-yes.”

“Then help me,” His fingers grab onto the zipper of your skirt before pulling it down, “help you.”

His hand slips into your underwear, slowly stroking your folds before drawing languid circles on your clit.

You try to push him away, grab his arm to move him off of you, which only causes him to tease you more. There’s nowhere to escape with Geto imposing his body onto yours, pushing you further against the wall.

“Just take what I give you and I can make them all go away.” The warmth of his breath lingers by your ear. Tension builds in your chest as you grow unsure of what to do, but there is one thing you are sure of.

You’re tired of fighting, tired of persevering. 

Your grip on his arm loosens, which he takes as an answer. 

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” He looks pleased with himself, looking through you with heavy lidded eyes.

His hand moves painfully slow, his fingers occasionally slipping into your hole just to slide back out.  Your legs squeeze together at the intrusion, your breaths becoming labored the more he plays with your cunt. A soft moan escapes you, and Geto perks up upon hearing.

“Oh?” His lips form a devilish grin before slipping his fingers in all the way. “Let me hear more of you.” 

He scissors his fingers inside you, his thumb reaching to play with your clit. The stretch drives you insane as you lean your head back to let out a shaky moan. He slowly starts to pump his fingers inside, lewd sounds of his fingers pumping your wet cunt echoing in the empty room. 

You hate how good it feels. His fingers reach places you never could, fill you up more, and hit that special spot that has you seeing stars with startling accuracy. You cover your mouth with your hand, embarrassed at the obscene noises escaping you only for Geto to move it away.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I want to hear more of your cute voice.” He looks into your eyes with a piercing gaze before picking up the pace. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but Geto’s hand grips your cheeks before turning your head to face him.

The debauched expression on your face sends blood flowing to his cock. He wants to see more: your face contorting from pleasure, the bounce of your tits as he fucks you, his cum leaking out of your poor quivering hole. Just the thought is enough to drive him crazy. His other hand makes its way to your clit, drawing tight circles. You can’t hold back your moans, the tension in your core building as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. 

“G-Geto-sama!” Your hands clench into the fabric of his robe, desperate for balance as your orgasm washes over your body.

“That’s more like it.”

Once his fingers are out of you, you slide against the wall before dropping onto the floor. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest; you’re not sure if you can take any more. 

“There’s more work to be done.” Geto smirks as he looks at his hands, admiring the way your arousal glistens on his fingers. 

He slides the top of his robe off his shoulders, revealing his toned arms and hints of a chiseled body. His hands press on your inner thighs to spread your legs before him. Heat rushes to your face as you try to close them shut, only for him to spread them apart further. 

“Don’t be shy.”

With the grace, or lack of, that’s unbecoming of a monk, he buries his face into your cunt. His tongue feels foreign as he licks your folds before making his way to your clit. Unlike the cool and composed air he had when he was fingering you, the way he eats you out is primal. It’s filthy, how he spits on your cunt before going back in with a grin on his face.

Your back arches off the floor as he continues, tension building in your stomach with each passing moment. His hands spread your folds apart as he gets a better look at your cunt before twirling his tongue around your clit.

Your hand hesitantly hovers over his head before his hand grasps yours and presses it against his head. 

“Eager now, are we?” He laps at your juices before pressing a finger into your hole, achingly slow.

Your labored breaths become soft moans as he indulges further. His tongue makes lewd noises as he traces your folds before sucking on your clit. Tension builds in your core as he gradually picks up the pace, his fingers going faster and hitting deeper, his tongue drawing tighter circles. 

“G-Geto-sama, please I’m getting close!”

He abruptly pulls away, heavy breaths escaping him as he wipes the mixture of your arousal and his spit off his face with his sleeve.

“Then beg.”

“H-huh?” His response sends blood rushing to your face, your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

His fingers tease your hole, shallowly inserting one in before removing it. He’s agonizingly slow and he knows it’s driving you crazy. He takes great pleasure in seeing the embarrassment strung across your face.

“G-Geto-sama… Please, please-”

“Please…?”

“Let me cum.” you whimper pathetically, attempting to rut your hips against his hands for some much needed release.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He takes his hand away from your body, staring you down with a smile.

“P-please let me cum!” The words slide off your tongue with ease this time around, desperation riddling your voice.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The sound of shifting fabric fills your ears as he removes the rest of his garments and tosses them off to the side.

Nothing could have prepared you to see his body in its entirety. His robes did him a disservice, hiding his toned muscles, slightly glistening with a sheen of sweat. Your eyes trail over his stomach, wandering lower until they reach the base of his cock. A chill crawls up your spine, trying to fathom how something so large is going inside of you.

He catches your expression as his hand wraps around his cock, giving it a couple of pumps before lining it up with your hole. 

“Don’t be scared, little one. I promise you’ll feel good soon.” It enters you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You’ve never felt this full, there’s no way your toys could ever compare to the real thing. The size, the warmth, the way it throbs inside you.

Geto lets out a breathy groan once he bottoms out. Your walls wrap around him so tightly, as if your body is begging him to cum inside you.

It takes every ounce of self control in his body to not rut into you at a dizzying pace. He wants to savor this, building you up only to have you fall apart in his arms. The desire to ruin you, to keep you wrapped around his finger burns hot in his chest. He steels himself before starting with slow strokes, his breathing labored. 

His hands reach for your blouse, ripping the buttons off their threads as they scatter across the floor. Deft fingers make their way to your bra, tugging down to reveal your chest. His hands are warm, almost like they’re melting into your skin as he plays with your breasts, fingers drawing circles around your nipples. Your moans only get louder as he continues to explore your body. His fingers pinch your nipples and an involuntary squeal escapes your lips. 

He leans in towards your ear before slyly whispering, “You need to be louder if you wish to be saved.”

You don’t have a chance to respond as he rams his hips into you, striking a spot that has you seeing stars. His pace is relentless, heat building in your stomach with each stroke. It’s hard to form any cohesive thoughts, much less sentences, when you’re chasing a high on his cock.

“Work harder for your salvation, little one.” he teases.  

And you do. 

You moan his name like a mantra, press your hips harder into him, chasing your own high. You bring him into an embrace, your nails scratching his back as an offering. 

“You’re holding me so tight- it’s like you want to bear my child.”

“W-wait-” Panic strikes your chest but Geto strikes his hips harder into you, cutting you off.

“Is that what you want?” he coos, gently tracing your jaw with the back of his hand before tilting your chin to face him. “That’s why you came here, right?”

You want to say no, that you came here to stop being haunted by spirits, but every part of your body is melting in pleasure, screaming yes. It’s impossible to even articulate an answer, your mouth only speaking in slurred moans and pants.

The sound of your moans is music to his ears. His lips press against your neck before biting down, earning a yelp from you in surprise. 

“I’ll give you exactly what you want.” he whispers in your ear, his hips striking into you harder. 

“W-wait, Geto-sama, please!” you attempt to plead, only to sound more like a sultry moan. 

“I’ve waited long enough,” he groans into your ear. 

His dizzying pace is hard to resist, as you feel yourself getting close. With a few more thrusts you feel your walls clamp around him, waves of ecstasy washing over your body. Geto follows soon after with a choked moan, warmth filling your insides. 

Geto removes himself from you shortly after, admiring the way his seed leaks from your hole. 

As he revels in the mess he’s made of you, he’s already conjuring up plans to bring you back to him. How should he torture you next? What pathetic expression will you wear when you seek his help? 

You’ll be back soon enough. He’ll make sure of it.

[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.

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

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[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 Tōdō.

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!

[girliemattitude]

— - Bed Chem - — M.S - —

A/N: Not that anyone cares but I’m finally back<3 A/N(2): This is my work, please don’t steal it!

Based on…

Y/n didn’t expect much from the influencer event in L.A.—just another night of mingling with familiar faces, making small talk, and showing up for the fans and posting for her Instagram wearing her new sheer black dress,but when her friend introduced her to Matt, everything shifted.

He was quieter than she expected, standing a bit away from the crowd with a mysterious air that drew her in immediately. His left arm was covered in tattoos, the ink stretching from his wrist up to his bicep, visible beneath the sleeve of his white jacket. It gave him a rugged edge that was striking, especially when paired with the intensity of his blue eyes. Y/n had seen Matt online, of course—he and his triplet brothers were the carrying YouTube with over 6.8 million subscribers. But up close, he was different. There was something deeper, more complex behind those eyes.

"Y/n, this is Matt," her friend said with a grin, nudging her forward. "I’m sure you’ve seen his videos."

Y/n offered him a smile, trying to keep it casual even as she felt a strange pull toward him. "Yeah, I’ve watched a few. You guys are hilarious."

Matt smiled back, but it was subtle, almost reserved. "Thanks. I’ve checked out your channel too. It’s great ."

His voice was smooth, laced with that Boston accent that gave his words an extra bit of charm. They talked for a few minutes—just the usual small talk, nothing too deep—but there was something about the way he looked at her, a quiet intensity that made her wonder what he wasn’t saying. It left her curious, intrigued, and maybe a little more interested than she wanted to admit.

After their brief conversation, they drifted apart at the party, but Y/n couldn’t shake him from her thoughts. There was something about Matt that stuck with her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. So when she received a text from him later that night, she wasn’t surprised, but she couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement in her chest.

Their first real meet-up happened a few days later. It wasn’t anything elaborate—just a casual hangout at Matt’s place, away from the spotlight and the expectations that came with their online personas. Y/n arrived feeling a little nervous, unsure of what to expect. But when Matt opened the door, all her worries melted away.

He was laid-back, but there was an edge to him, a quiet intensity that made her heart race. They slipped easily into conversation, the kind that was light and flirty but hinted at something more beneath the surface. Matt was quieter in person, but he had a way of saying just the right thing to make her laugh or catch her off guard. And when they finally kissed, it was like a spark igniting between them—intense, undeniable, and electric.

From there, everything escalated quickly. They moved together with an urgency that neither of them had felt in a long time. Hands explored, breaths mingled, and the chemistry between them was so strong it left them both a little dizzy. It was the start of something they both knew they couldn’t walk away from, even if they didn’t want to label it.

Their nights together became a routine—flirting, teasing, and giving in to the physical attraction that seemed to consume them whenever they were in the same room. But it wasn’t just about the sex. Sure, the way Matt made her gasp, and squirm or when he turned her around and flipped her over hitting just the right places left her breathless every time, but there was more to it than that. It was the way he looked at her, like he could see right through the walls she kept up around herself. The way he talked to her, his voice low and sweet, even when he was whispering bad things or doing stuff that made her pulse race. It was intoxicating, and Y/n found herself getting lost in it more and more each time they were together.

But they kept it casual. They had to. Both of them were too focused on their careers, too aware of how a public relationship might complicate things, the last thing either of them wanted was to deal with the scrutiny of their fans or the pressure of making something official when neither of them was ready for that.

Despite their agreement to keep things casual, there were moments that made Y/n wonder if there was more to this than just physical attraction. Like when Matt went back to Boston to visit his family for a whole month. They kept in touch every day, their phone calls stretching late into the night, sometimes until Y/n could barely keep her eyes open. They talked about everything and nothing—deep conversations about life and dreams, and lighter ones filled with jokes and teasing.

And then there were the silences, those moments when neither of them spoke, but the connection between them felt almost tangible. Y/n found herself missing him more than she expected, longing for his touch, his presence, the way he made her feel alive.

When Matt finally came back to L.A., the moment they saw each other again, it was like a spark reignited between them. They didn’t even make it to the bedroom at first, too eager to feel each other again. Y/n barely had time to breathe before Matt was pinning her against a wall, his hands firm and sure as he pulled her down to meet his lips. He turned her around, pressing her against the wall, and everything just clicked into place—like they’d never been apart. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and they both knew it.

As they lay together afterward, tangled in sheets and each other, Y/n couldn’t help but think about how right it felt. But then she remembered their agreement, the reason they’d decided to keep things casual in the first place. They both had busy careers, lives that didn’t leave much room for anything serious. And there was the question of how their fans would react—neither of them wanted to deal with that kind of pressure.

So, they kept it casual. They had fun, flirted, and spent their nights together, but they didn’t talk about feelings. They didn’t admit that the connection between them was growing stronger, deeper. They didn’t say out loud what they both felt—that this was becoming more than just a casual fling. Because saying it would make it real, and that was something neither of them was ready to face.

Despite all their unspoken feelings, the casual nature of their relationship continued. Y/n told herself that it was better this way—simpler, less complicated. And yet, every time she was with Matt, she couldn’t help but feel that there was something more lingering beneath the surface.

It was in the way he looked at her, his gaze lingering just a little too long, his eyes softening in a way that made her heart skip a beat. It was in the way he always maintained eye contact while fucked her, doesn’t matter if it was rough and loud or slow and steady. There still was a tenderness in his actions that didn’t match the carefree nature of their arrangement.

Matt, too, found himself caught in this web of contradictions. He was used to being the quiet, mysterious one, the guy who kept things light and never got too attached. But with Y/n, things felt different. There was something about her that made him want to open up, to let her in, even though he knew they’d agreed to keep things simple but the more time they spent together, the harder it became to ignore the feelings growing between them. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t acknowledge it, but it was there in every touch, every glance, every moment they shared, and as much as they tried to keep things not complicated, there was no denying that their connection ran deeper than either of them wanted to admit. They had something special—something that went beyond just the physical. They had good bed chemistry, yes, but it was more than that. It was the way they fit together, the way they made each other feel alive.

But for now, they kept it fun, flirtatious, and unspoken. They weren’t ready to face what was growing between them, so they let themselves get lost in the thrill of the moment, in the intense connection that sparked every time they were together. And maybe that was enough—for now…

………..………………………………………………………………………………..……………

[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

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Boston Bears: Off-Limits - Rugby Player!Chris x Reader (Part 3)

Summary: Despite Chris telling you to back off there's undeniable chemistry that both of you are struggling to ignore

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! Language! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Masturbation! SMUT! 18 + ONLY! MINORS DNI!

Rugby Explained

Dividers by Me!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 3

You let out a long sigh as you shimmied into the 5th bridesmaid dress that Tommi had sent over to you to try on. Once it was mostly up you grabbed the string you had attached to the zipper and pulled it up to zip yourself in, a little trick you’d learnt after living alone for a few years. You then stepped back into the view of Tommi who was watching through your laptop screen. 

“Hmm I don’t think I like that one as much as the others, the neckline doesn’t look quite right” she hummed as she assessed the dress. 

“Yeah I’ve never been a fan of strapless” you added as you tugged the bodice of the dress up higher “This dress does make my ass look good though” you smirked, twisting to show off all the work the dress was doing. 

“You can say that again” Tommi whistled “Still doesn’t beat dress number 3 though”

“Yeah same, that one’s my favourite” you agreed “How many more are there?” you asked glancing over to the large box which she’d sent over to you containing all the different dresses. 

“Just two more” Tommi answered “I know 7 is a little overkill but I just wanted you to have a dress you definitely liked, especially as my maid of honour”

“Yeah, yeah I know it's okay” you sighed tiredly, scratching your forehead “So is this going in the no pile?” you asked dropping your arm to gesture at the dress you were currently wearing. 

“Yeah let's ditch that one” Tommi confirmed with a nod of her head. 

You let out another long tired sigh before stepping away to undress and put on the 6th dress. 

“Hey is everything okay? We can call it a day if you wanna?” you heard Tommi call out. 

You shook your head and stepped back into frame “Nah it’s alright, just been a long week that’s all”

“It’s Wednesday” Tommi frowned. 

“Exactly a long ass week” you grumbled as you step back, take off the dress and toss it into the no pile with the 4 other dresses. 

“Not as fun working with your dad as you thought?” Tommi asked as you changed into the sixth dress. 

“No it’s not that,” you said zipping up the dress and stepping back into the frame “Chris has just a bit… I dunno…”

“A dick? Asshole?” Tommi supplied making you shake your head. 

“No, not really, a bit dickish but not majorly” you defended.

Tommi frowns “Right… so what’s happened since Sunday and now?” she asked. 

“Well apparently he didn’t realise I was the coach’s daughter, got all pissed that I’d hidden it from him” you explained. 

“Did you?” Tommi frowned. 

“No, well I didn’t outright tell him who my dad was because there wasn’t really the opportunity but I gave him enough to connect the dots, I assumed he already knew” you explained with a shrug of your shoulders “Yeah I should have probably made it clearer but who cares who my dad is? We’re grown adults!”

Tommi nodded “What else did he say?” 

“That he wouldn’t have slept with me if he’d known, all because my dad said no one on the team is allowed to date me” you sighed. 

Tommi took a deep breath as she nodded her head slowly “Well… at least you cut it off before it got any further, one time can be played as a mistake” you just hummed in response, not quite willing to admit that you still offered him more “wait, what did that hum mean?” Tommi asked and you cursed under your breath. 

“Can you stop it with your empath vibe checker thing” you groaned in annoyance rolling your eyes. 

“It’s not that, I’m just know you too well, so c’mon get it out otherwise it’ll just fester,” Tommi said with a knowing look. 

You let out a long sigh as you repositioned your laptop so you could sit down on your bed “All I did was point out that my dad said no dating, and casual sex isn’t dating”

“No but it’ll get messy if you keep seeing him, I’m sorry but I agree with Chris on this one, you need to move on a find someone else” Tommi said gently. 

“I know but fuck I just can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about him, it's like I’ve got this itch that only he can scratch” you explained. 

“I think you might need to get that checked out” Tommi smirked pulling a snort of laughter from you. 

“You know what I mean, there’s just something there like a magnetic force that keeps pulling me in and I know I shouldn’t but the words were just out of my mouth before I could stop it” you told her. 

“I get that” Tommi nodded “but maybe you just need to find someone else to scratch that itch, someone where the possibility of it blowing up in your face is smaller” she suggested.

“Yeah, the team are playing at home again this weekend so I could probably find someone after the match again” you hummed as your fingers mindlessly fidgeted in your lap “It's just… I think what my mind keeps coming back to and part of why I feel that pull is the way Chris has behaved suggests he’s a really good guy”

“Even though he was a bit of a dick after he found out?” Tommi frowned. 

“Yeah, but it must have been a bit of a shock to find that out so it’s gonna be justified, and you know he cares about what my dad thinks, anyone else who was a dick wouldn’t have cared, he does” you explained “which just makes me think it might not blow up in my face”

“Yeah… that is true but it still might and even if you did end things amicably there’s still gonna be that awkwardness and do you really wanna risk that?” Tommi said with a gentle sigh “Look I think right now you just need to focus on you, and your job and just be happy with yourself, do what you want”

“Yeah maybe you’re right” you admitted despite it feeling so, so wrong, especially since what you wanted was Chris.

“You’ll find someone else, someone who’s not a dick and isn’t gonna cause unnecessary drama,” Tommi said with a reassuring smile. 

You nodded “Thanks Tommi,” you said before standing back up “This dress is a definite no, it digs in when you sit down and while I plan to do a lot of dancing at your wedding, I can not not sit down” 

Tommi let out a loud laugh nodding her head “Okay, another one for the no pile, so unless number Seven is a miracle dress, number three it is”

“They do say three is the magic number” you winked making Tommi laugh even louder. 

Like predicted dress number three was the winner so you packed the rest back into the box ready to be shipped back to Tommi so she could return them. The two of you then ended up spending another hour or so catching up, talking a little more about the wedding before you finally had to call it a night. 

You felt exhausted when you climbed into bed. Today’s training session hadn’t gone well at all, all the players were playing well individually but their cohesion was gone. They were a completely different team than what you saw on Saturday. It meant more minor injuries were cropping up like jarred fingers that needed strapping. 

Chris seemed to be the worst though as he missed countless number of passes and tackles, it was like his mind was switching off periodically. Part of you wondered and maybe hoped it was because of you. That maybe you were on his mind just like he was on yours. Another part of you was worried if that was the case because Chris was right about needing to focus on the Championship. 

Despite how tired you were you just couldn’t get comfortable and your mind just wouldn’t turn off. Chris was once again on your mind, first you were just revisiting the encounters you had and wondering how you could have played them differently. Which then turned into daydreams about what you’d do and say if something similar happened again, which just turned into straight-up fantasies.

Fantasies like what if Chris had taken you up on that offer in the medical room. Would he have bent you over the medical bed and taken you from behind? Or would he have lifted you up onto the counter and taken you there? You honestly couldn’t decide which you’d want more.

If he took you from behind you’d feel his hips slapping against your ass, he could take full advantage of your ass, grab it, spank it. He could wrap his hand around your hair, tugging it, pulling you back to make the angle even more delicious. 

If he took you on the counter though, he’d have full access to your chest again. Your top would be ripped off as soon as possible, your bra discarded too. One hand could grip your hip to keep you where he wanted, the other would be massaging and squeezing your breast. His callused fingertips playing with your peak, pinching and twisting. He’d give your other breast equal attention with his mouth, using his tongue and teeth to pull you to your peak. 

You could feel the heat pooling at your core at just the thought of Chris. You tried to just think it away and not scratch that itch but it was impossible. Soon enough your hand slipped under your sleep shorts and you felt just how turned on you were just at the thought of him. You couldn’t recall a time you’d been this turned on at the thought of someone. 

Just the feeling of your fingertips running up and down your core brought relief while also making the pressure ten times more intense. You increased the pressure, bringing your fingers up to your clit, swirling them around the sensitive nub, gasping when you pinched it between your fingers. 

Feeling the needy ache inside you, you slipped your fingers down to your entrance, biting your lip to hide a moan when you slipped your fingers inside yourself. You knew almost immediately your fingers alone would not be enough. You gave yourself a few pumps, pressing the heel of your palm against your clit but it just wasn’t enough. You needed the thickness of Chris’ fingers, the thickness of his cock.

In desperation you grabbed your vibrator from your drawer. Your shorts thrown haphazardly across the room to give you more room to work with. You instantly turned it on and pressed it against your core, a moaning curse escaping your lips. The memory of Chris doing the exact same thing played in your mind, the way he teased you and made you beg.

The memory alone meant you were precariously close to the edge when you finally pushed the vibrator inside. Usually, you found yourself still having to work yourself up, only ever finding your peak with the highest setting, but just the thought of Chris had you nearly coming on the lowest. 

You wanted to find relief, but you needed this to last longer. You took a couple of calming breaths, bringing yourself back down from that cliff edge. When you felt ready again you began playing with yourself once more, hands roaming over your body. 

Your mind kept coming back to Chris which just made your need even more intense. So much so that even though you wanted to pace yourself you turned up your vibrator to a higher setting, a loud moan escaping your lips when you did so. 

Not knowing how thin your walls were and not wanting to disturb your neighbours you rolled over onto your stomach so your pillow could muffle your moans. The new position did wonders as you then pictured Chris taking you like this, the way his weight would push you down into the mattress as he pounded you from behind. 

Your hips instinctively bucked up off the mattress as if he was there, as if you were moving to meet his thrusts. Your fantasy was so vivid it was like you could feel his presence in the room, smell his aftershave in the air. 

You moved up onto your knees, head still against the pillow as you picture him lifting your hips up. His fingers leaving marks on your hips as he gripped onto you. You once again turned up the intensity of your vibrator, your whole body moving as you pumped it inside you, chanting Chris’ name like a prayer. The chanting became a scream when you hit your peak, the noise drowned out as you buried your head in your pillow. 

Your legs felt weak so you rolled back onto your back, your chest heaving as you came down from your high, the vibrator still buzzing inside you. The image of Chris hitting his own peak flashed through your mind. The moan that escaped his lips, the blissed-out look on his face. You were caught by surprise when a second orgasm rolled through your body just because of the mental image of Chris hitting his peak. 

When you finally recovered you quickly turned your vibrator off and set it aside. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You had never had an experience like that on your own, never been able to give yourself two orgasms. You knew it was all because you were picturing and wanting Chris. 

Even though you agreed with Tommi that pursuing something with him could lead to disaster, you knew that even if you did find someone else you’d be comparing them to Chris and it would just lead to disappointment. Chris had officially ruined you.

Chris was screwed. So, so screwed. All week he’d been off his game, at first he could blame it on his sore leg holding him back but thanks to your stretches that was sorted by Tuesday. He had no excuse for the rest of the week.

In the gym sessions, he wasn’t able to work at his usual level, benching far below his average. When he got questioned on it he just lied and said he was playing it safe this week. When truthfully he wasn’t physically able to lift any heavier. 

In training sessions when they went over drills he wasn’t able to hit as hard or take as many hits. His passes were slow or off target leaving the rest of the team to pick up the pieces. He could see the frustration on their faces when they had to scramble to collect the ball, he understood how they were feeling because he was feeling it too.

He tried everything he could to get his head back in the game. He stayed late in training sessions, running drills solo. He tried meditating to clear his mind but it was impossible because there was always one thing on his mind. 

You.

Even when he didn’t see you at training you would find a way back into his mind. His mind kept going back to when he confronted you in the medical room and despite how pissed he was he was one move away from initiating round two. Your offer replayed in his mind, reminding him of the loophole, tempting him. 

He couldn’t give in to temptation though. There was too much on the line for that. Every time he considered it he just told himself that he needed a release. It was worse at night when the world was quiet and his brain could get loud. So every night he found himself jerking off to give him that release he was clearly craving. He’d try not to picture you but it was near impossible, each time he’d picture a new fantasy each one getting more vivid and intense than the last. So much so that last night even after he brought himself to orgasm he still felt the intense need for release. 

He just hoped that on gameday everything would click back into place and he could focus on the game. As he walked into the stadium he followed his usual pre-game routine. He had his headphones in, head down as he walked through the corridors to the changing room, ignoring the photographer who was capturing the team's arrival. 

In the changing room, he kept to himself as he changed into his kit. He was lucky that he was even picked to play following his awful performance, he hoped that it was because Coach Y/L/N still believed in him and not because he wanted to lie about an injury during training. 

Once he was ready he just sat in his cubby and mentally ran through drills, picturing the Chicago Knights recalling all their weaknesses he’d noticed during analysis sessions. As the rest of the team arrived he gave them small nods of greeting before returning his mind back to the game ahead.

When it was time to go out onto the field he felt more confident than he did this morning. He had yet to see you though which he worried was the reason why. He knew he’d regret it but when he walked out onto the pitch he glanced over to the bench and that’s when he saw you talking with the other medics. He managed to catch your eye, he watched as you studied him for a moment with an unreadable expression on your face before returning your attention back to your conversation. 

Your complete dismissal of him left a strange feeling in his stomach. He was fighting the urge to walk over and say something. He didn’t know what he wanted to say but he just knew he wanted to be next to you. Thankfully he was snapped out of that train of thought when Ari slapped him hard on the shoulder. 

The confidence Chris had built was all but gone when they started warm-ups and drills. He wasn’t playing as bad as he had during the week but he wasn’t playing well at all. When he went aside to practice his kicks his accuracy was completely shot. Angles that he usually found easy were now near impossible and he could hear the murmurings of the crowd behind him. 

When warm-ups were done the team gathered for their usual huddle. While the coaches gave their usual talks Chris worked on emptying his mind, so much so that he didn’t notice it was his turn to talk until Jensen patted his shoulder to get his attention. 

“Sorry” Chris muttered shaking his head “We’ve had a tough week, all of us, some more than others, but we need to put that behind us and focus on the here and now” Chris started looking around at the team “we beat the knights earlier this season on their turf, we can beat them again on ours, think positively and think clearly, they’ve got something to prove so they’re gonna hit us hard so be prepared, we can win this and we will win this,” he said trying to convince himself more than anything. 

Thankfully the team didn’t seem to notice his lack of confidence as they nodded along and did their usual cheer in confirmation before heading back into the changing rooms ready to start the match. As Chris followed behind them he once again spared a glance in your direction, you met his gaze once more but instead of looking away, you gave him the smallest of nods. Chris was surprised to feel it settle him slightly, he didn’t allow himself to think about it though as he shook his head and walked back through the tunnel. 

Any confidence Chris had that the team were gonna win this match was shredded pretty quickly into the first half and it was all Chris’ fault. The other players were playing well, they’d taken what he said on board and put everything behind them, it was him who was letting them down.

He missed so many passes, fumbled the ball and knocked it on. So far almost all the penalties in the game were because of his mistakes. At one point he seemed to almost completely switch off and missed a tackle allowing the knights to break free, if it wasn’t for Johnny’s speed and tap tackle they would have scored. 

He was bringing the team down with him, any play he tried to make was the wrong call. He was making poor choices and the scoreboard reflected that. All he could hear was the crowd complaining whenever something went wrong. 

Needless to say, Coach Y/L/N was not impressed when it was finally half-time and the team made their way back into the changing rooms. Chris had only just sat down in his cubby when the coach marched in, a look of thunder on his face.

“What the hell is going on out there Evans!” he demanded.

Chris tried to find a reason to explain it all but he couldn’t so he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head “I-I dunno coach, I’m sorry… I think I’m just in my head” he apologised.

“It’s not good enough Evans! You’re off for the rest of the match, Levinson you’re captain for the second half” Coach Y/L/N ordered. 

“Yes sir” Ari muttered glancing over at Chris whose jaw had dropped.

“No sir I’m fine! I’ll play better I promise” Chris reasoned not liking that he was being dropped mid-game. 

“You’re lucky you even played today Evans and you know it!” Coach snapped “We need to win this match and then we have a two-week break, use that time to get your head on straight, I don’t care how you do it, just sort it out”

Chris let out a defeated sigh and nodded his head “Yes sir”. 

Chris zoned out for the rest of the team talk, just shrugging on his jacket to keep him warm just in case he needed to go back on. He doubted it though, the only reason he’d go back on now was if there were enough injuries that the coach had no choice. 

Once half-time was over Chris followed the rest of the team back out, except he took a turn to sit down on the bench instead of following them onto the pitch. He let out a long sigh as he sat down he glanced over to the side and saw you stood with the other medics ready to run on at a moment's notice. Chris instantly shifted in his seat knowing you were now only a short distance away from him. This was gonna be a long second half. 

You usually watched a match pretty intensely because you had to spot when a player was stubbornly trying to play on when really they needed some medical attention. But today you refused to take your eyes on the pitch unless you absolutely had to. Mostly because all you could feel was Chris’ eyes on your back and you didn’t want to find out whether he was glaring daggers at you or not. 

He was seriously off his game and you couldn’t help but feel like you were to blame and you didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, you really didn’t want him to be off his game, and you didn’t like that you were the reason especially if it was pissing him off. But… on the other hand, a part of you liked that you had gotten into his head, that you were affecting him as much as he was affecting you. 

Curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. Only to find him watching you with his jaw clenched and shoulders tight. The look on his face was not one of want it was one of irritation. Yep, he was pissed off at you, curiosity killed this cat so you whipped back around to focus on the game.

Thankfully there were only 20 minutes left of the match and you could head home and get away from this. There was definitely no chance with Chris and you needed to accept that fact. If it required a pint of ice cream and a gallon of wine then that’s what you’d do. 

You were just making your non-break-up-break-up recovery plan when you noticed Johnny get up from a tackle limping. You grabbed your bag and ran onto the pitch to meet him and made him sit down to get the weight off his leg. 

“Hey, hey sit down before you make it worse” you said wrapping your hand around his arm to stop him. 

Johnny flashed you a lopsided smile before nodding “Sure thing” he agreed sitting himself down “It’s my ankle, just needs strapping”

“Sure not a problem,” you said passing him a water bottle before grabbing some tape from your bag.

As you worked you could feel Johnny watching you and when you glanced up you saw his trademark boyish smirk “I have to say you pull off that orange medic bib well, not many do” he said.

Your eyes narrowed as you studied Storm “What are you doing?”

“Flirting with you,” he said without missing a beat.

“Did you not hear my father’s warning?” You asked him returning your attention to his ankle.

“Oh I did, but Evans is off his game and jealousy never fails to give someone that push” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders “We’ve got a championship to win, we don’t need a Captain who’s distracted because he’s not allowing himself the action he wants”

You swallowed nervously “he told you about that?” You ask trying not to sound too scared at the prospect.

“No it’s none of my business, I’d just heard he’d left the bar with a girl last weekend, didn’t know it was you until I saw the look on his face when you walked in on Monday” Johnny explained. 

“What look?” You asked tilting your head slightly.

“The look of running into a hookup unexpectedly, trust me it's a look I know well, I also know the look on your face whenever you look at him,” Johnny said pointing at you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” You scoffed.

“The one that says you’re lost in whatever dirty daydream he’s currently starring in,” Johnny said knowingly.

“Yeah well he’s made it pretty clear that it's not gonna happen” you huffed as you put the tape back in your bag and passed him a water bottle.

“Nah he’s close to cracking, trust me” Johnny said with a shake of his head “So tell me do you want to get into bed again with the captain?” he asked with a knowing look. 

You bit your lower lip as you considered it. The voice of Tommi flashed through your mind telling you it was a good idea that Chris cut things off. You can’t get hurt if you don’t get involved. But no matter how many times you told yourself that you just couldn’t get the craving to go. 

“Yes,” you whispered nodding your head.

The grin on Johnny’s face grew “So let me help you, and in turn, help the team” You don’t say anything except arch a brow and a lopsided grin grows on his face “all you need to do is laugh, smile at me and maybe send me on my way with a touch to the arm”

You glanced towards the sidelines where Chris was watching from his spot on the bench. Even from this distance, you could tell his expression was stormy and it wasn’t because he’d been taken off early. His gaze was set solely on you and Johhny.

“Alright, deal,” you said holding out your hand to help Johnny to his feet. 

“Perfect, and in return you can give me the number of your sister if you have one” Johnny smirked.

You laughed at that “I like you Storm but even if I had a sister it would be a no” you chuckled.

“Hot single friend?” He asked hopefully making you laugh even more, not even needing to fake it.

“Focus on the Rugby,” you told him, touching his bicep as you stepped away back towards the sideline. 

As you walked back your gaze met Chris’ whose face had turned even stormier. He quickly adverted his gaze, only to glare daggers at Johhny. It was a good thing that he’d been taken off because by the look in his eyes, he’d probably tackle Johnny himself. 

Thankfully for the team, the Bears managed to claw back the scoreboard and beat the knights so the team were in high spirits when they returned to the changing room, with the exception of Chris who was still being broody. 

You were stood in the corner with the rest of the medical team while your dad gave his usual post-match speech and they all celebrated. When there was a break you caught Johnny asking you to come over to his cubby with a beckoning finger. 

“Hey what’s up? Ankle okay?” you asked him as you crouched down to examine his ankle.

He pulled it away though and leaned forward so he could whisper to you “It's fine, ready to execute phase two of our plan?”

“Phase two? I didn’t realise this was a multiphase plan” you said tilting your head. 

“We’ll use as many phases as needed” Johnny smirked “So what’s gonna happen is I’m gonna loudly invite you out to celebrate with us tonight”

“Like a date?” you asked. 

“Sure, but you’re gonna turn me down and say maybe another time” Johnny explained. 

You let out a small snort of laughter “Are you sure your ego can take that?” you smirked.

“It's a risk I’m willing to take, all we’re doing is confirming to Evans that he still has a chance but he has to act fast” Johnny elaborated “You’re gonna say that all you want is a night at home”

“So he knows where to find me” you realised. 

Johnny winked “Exactly, so get yourself home and put on some of your cute cosies you girls have, the ones that say you weren’t expecting visitors but will still send his blood south” he smirked. 

You let out a loud warm laugh at that, shaking your head at him “I like you Storm” you chuckled happy to know you had at least one friend on this team. 

“Everybody does, now you get home and get some” Johnny winked. 

As soon as you could you made your way home. You figured you had a bit of time to have a shower to freshen up and make sure you were ready for if and when Chris decided to show up. You then did as Johnny said and got into your best-looking cosies which consisted of a fluffy crop top and leggings. 

Then all you had to do was wait. 

And wait. And wait. 

You waited for so long that you were really starting to doubt Johnny’s plan. What if Chris had decided to go out with the team? Would Johnny try and convince him to go home? What if Chris decided to find someone else, did what Tommi suggested you do?

You needed something to drink. Opening the fridge you let out an irritated groan when you discovered that you were out of beer, all you had was a bottle of white wine which was not your preferred drink. It would have to though so you grabbed the bottle and poured yourself a large glass. 

Walking back to your couch you took a healthy glug to try to calm your nerves. You set it down on your coffee table so you wouldn’t drink it all in one go as you sat down, your leg bouncing nervously. Picking up your phone you considered maybe texting Chris, maybe you could phrase it in a way that looked like you were just checking if he was okay.

Before you could even think any further on that you heard your intercom buzz. You swallowed nervously and rose from the couch and made your way over to the intercom, taking a deep breath before pressing the button.

“Hello?” you said simultaneously hoping it was and wasn’t Chris.

“It's Chris… we need to talk” Chris responded making you breathe out a sigh of relief, at least you thought it was relief.

“Sure, c’mon up,” you said buzzing him in. 

You didn’t hear anything else from him to suggest he was actually coming up but nevertheless, you opened your apartment door and waited for him. As you did so you nervously wiped your hands on your leggings hoping you didn’t look as nervous as you felt. What if he was still pissed? What if he thought you were trying to get with Storm as was here to tell you to back off?

When he finally came into view you had to swallow and tell yourself to behave because he looked that good. He had clearly showered but not bothered to reapply any hair product because his fluffy brown hair was disheveled. He wore a navy zip-up hoodie which was a size or two too small going by the way it clung to his biceps. But his grey sweatpants were the real killer and you had to mentally remind yourself to look at his face.

Neither of you said anything as he stepped inside your apartment, his hands buried in his pockets. You barely moved after shutting the door, just watching as he stood there looking around at your apartment. 

“Less boxes” he finally said, his eyes finally finding you. 

“Yeah… thankfully” you said struggling to find anything else to say, the atmosphere quickly becoming awkward “Do you want a drink? I don’t have any beer, but I have wine” you said looking for an out, pointing at your wine glass. 

Chris shook his head “i’m good… you’re not expecting anyone are you?” he asked clearing his throat.

“No, I wasn’t, I’m not” you told him taking a couple of steps closer. 

Chris nodded his head pursing his lips “Just figured you’d invited Storm over” he said. 

His tone made your hackles rise, putting you on the defensive “Would it be a problem if I had?” you stated making Chris clench his jaw “Because you know we are two consenting adults, we don’t need permission to do what we want, we don’t need your permission, or my dad’s” 

“Oh, so you do want to sleep with him?” Chris fired back. 

“Why? Why do you care? Is that why you came here? To tell me to back off?” you demanded. 

“No” Chris growled. 

“Then why? Why are you here? What do you want?” you pressed walking over to him.

“I-” Chris started but you interrupted him again. 

“What do you want!” you pretty much shouted.

Chris just growls surging forward, his hand clasping the back of your head as he crashed his lips down onto yours. You instantly responded, kissing him back hungrily, your arm winding around his shoulders, your other hand gripping his hoodie tightly. He in turn pulled you closer hand moving to cup your ass, a groan escaping his lips when he squeezed it. 

“You’re such a bad idea” he groaned as he continued to kiss you. 

“Then why does it feel so right” you murmured as you tried to tug him back towards your bedroom but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Because you’re a drug” he muttered making you gasp in surprise when he turned you around, his hands placed firmly on your hips as he pressed kisses to your neck “All week I’ve wanted you, I thought I could deal with it myself but it wasn’t enough… I needed the real thing,” he said tugging your hips back into his so you could feel just how much he needed you. 

“I know… I felt the same” you gasped as he slipped one hand beneath the waistband of your leggings, fingers running over your core and feeling your arousal. 

“We shouldn’t do this” he murmured but still doesn’t stop, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in circles. 

Your head dropped back against his shoulder giving him perfect access to your neck. Your hands gripped his arms to keep yourself upright when he nipped at your pulse point only to soothe it with his tongue. 

“Don’t stop” you begged, your hips bucked up into his touch. 

“I don’t plan on it” he growled as he plunged his fingers into you. 

You let out a loud moan but it was silenced by his lips capturing yours once more. You all but melted into him, you would have completely fallen to the floor if he hadn’t wrapped his free arm around your waist, trapping you against him. 

You came in record time, moaning his name as you hit your peak. Your chest heaved and your vision turned hazy but you were pretty sure you were watching Chris lick your arousal off his fingers which only made more flood your core. He caught sight of you watching him, a smirk on his lips as you bit yours. 

Without saying anything he moved you so you were bent along the back on the couch, your leggings and underwear were soon tugged down and removed, thrown somewhere in your apartment. The anticipation was killing you as you heard Chris undress behind you and the tell-tale sign of a foil square being ripped into. 

It then went silent. All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and your heavy breathing as you waited for him to do something. After what felt like an eternity his hands ran over your hips and ass, massaging and squeezing your cheeks. He took his time, a moaning gasp escaping your lips when he decided to spank you once only to instantly soothe the stinging with a kiss.

He then kicks your legs further apart before stepping closer and lining himself up. You tried to fight back the moan at the feeling of just his tip pressing against you. He then went still and all you could hear was his heavy breathing as if he was trying to hold himself back. 

You didn’t want that though, it had been the longest week in existence and you needed him now. You didn’t want him to hold himself back, you wanted him hard and fast, you needed the release only he could give you. There’d be time to go slower another time. 

He must have been reading your mind or you were thinking out loud again as he then slams into you with so much force you nearly went over the top of the couch. He didn’t give you a moment to recover and you didn’t want it either because this was exactly what you wanted, what you fantasised. 

“Fuck you feel so good�� Chris groaned as he thrusts deeply into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly leaving his mark on you “How could I possibly think I could stay away” he muttered more to himself than to you. 

His words made your back arch as you gripped the couch and ground back against him. Getting that confirmation that you had the same effect on him that he did on you was the biggest turn-on that existed. 

Chris took advantage of your arched back reaching around to slip his hand under your fuzzy crop top to cup your breast. Pulling a loud moan from you as he played and pulled at your sensitive peak. 

“Ch-chris I-” you moaned unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“Hold on, I’m not done with you yet” Chris groaned as he placed a kiss to your spine “Not yet” he repeats when you let out a pleading whimper. 

You did what you were told, trying to hold on for as long as Chris wanted you to, talking yourself back down from the edge that you so desperately wanted to jump off. You held on until it was impossible, grabbing Chris’ hand and directing him towards your clit but he pulled his hand away before you got the touch you needed. 

“Ah, ah, ah, did I say you could cum?” Chris asked leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“Please” you begged gripping his wrist. 

“Please what?” Chris pushed moving his hand closer to where you wanted it. 

“Please Chris, just please” you pleaded. 

Chris didn’t say anything making you whimper only to gasp when he placed a kiss to your shoulder as he finally found your clit and brought you to the peak you were desperately chasing. You came with a loud moan your walls clenching and pulsating around him, you were so high in the clouds that you were only faintly aware of Chris hitting his peak just after you. Your only indicator being the feeling of his weight over you as he finished.

Your vision began to clear as you felt Chris pull out of you. You continued to recover, catching your breath as you heard Chris moving around your apartment behind you. 

You were about to push yourself up to stand when you felt Chris’ hand run gently up your back. Looking over your shoulder you saw the gentle expression on his face as he helped you stand before leading you around to the front of the couch. 

You watched as he lay down on the couch before pulling you down to lay on top of him, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. Your hand rested on his chest as you looked down at him and tried to understand the expression on his face. You knew there was stuff you needed to talk about, work out exactly what this arrangement was but you didn’t want to ruin this moment just yet.

So you just rested your head down on his chest and ran your hand over his chest “What are you doing tomorrow?” you asked quietly. 

Chris hummed “nothing…why?”

You lifted your head again to look back down at him “Congratulations, you’ve been awarded membership to the most exclusive club in Boston” 

A lopsided grin grew on his face “About time” he chuckled as he cupped your cheek and kissed you.

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[rad-batson]

THIS IS FOR FANS OF CASSANDRA CAIN! PLEASE READ! I WANT YOUR THOUGHTS

(skip to the bottom if you just want silly headcanons about her :D)

Hello! So first, I want to thank everyone who read the Wayne pilot I made :) I appreciate your feedback, and I love you all.

As I'm preparing to post it on AO3, I decided to make a few (admittedly small) changes to the script, primarily around Cassandra Cain, because I haven't quite fleshed her out yet.

I don't have much experience with writing Cass, so I decided to do a bit of research on her yesterday, and wouldn't you know? I fell in love. 10/10. She didn't play a huge part in the pilot, but she will have a bigger one in the second episode, and there are a few things I think can or should be added so she doesn't feel too one-note.

There wasn't anyone who told me this, by the way. (In fact, I actually got some nice comments about her so thank you.) I just had it in the back of my mind while writing, and now that Cass is getting more screen time, I'm finding that my lack of knowledge might lead to mischaracterization.

SO TO COMBAT THIS, I MADE A GUIDE FOR MYSELF ON HOW TO WRITE CASS

Is this overkill? Probably Think of it as a silly headcanon list for my version of her. And I'm posting it here because I want your feedback before it's set in stone. (I know Cass isn't written well a lot, so this is my attempt to right these horrid wrongs.)

If you're going to give criticism, please be constructive. Tell me what you like or don't like. I'm all ears. Have fun :)

Writing Cass

(Btw I still gotta read Cass’s first Batgirl run by Kelley Puckett)

Has some sass, has a lot actually

Used to be awkward in social settings. she’s better at it when she’s with people so she can match their energy but she still prefers to just dip

Speaks in short-ish sentences, trying her best tho

I WILL BE ADDING THIS INTO THE PILOT, I JUST WANT TO KNOW TO WHAT DEGREE?? OR IS IT REALLY FINE

Mostly just relies on body language though

I WILL BE ADDING THIS INTO THE PILOT TOO, ESPECIALLY WITH THE ASL SCENE (BUT IT’S NOT REPLACING THE ASL)

also yes i know her using ASL isn't canon, it just works best for the scene, it would have been written the same whether she was in it or not, it is still a cute nod to fanon tho

Steph and Cass are extremely close BUT ALSO HAVE SEPARATE LIVES (I HAVE BEEN TOLD TO STRESS THAT AND I AGREE)

Messy, low-key gross. Bad-ish hygiene but she’s good at looking put-together so only those close know this about her (this is just my headcanon)

Often forgets bigger words so she occasionally uses the wrong one, she ALSO mixes up proverbs but no one corrects her because 1: it’s cute and 2: they don’t want to discourage her from speaking with them more casually (also my headcanon)

Cass: So I pulled the door off its…*makes motion with hand*…metal books. Steph: Do you mean hinge— Cass: Metal books.

Dick: Well that was a surprise. I didn’t know The Penguin would be here. Cass, nodding: Well life gives you grapes Dick: Wut Cass: You make grape juice. Get on the same book, Nightwing

I'M ON THE FENCE ABOUT ADDING THIS ONE BECAUSE IDK LET ME KNOW PLEASE

Is a cinnamon bun AND a little shit, it’s a balancing act

Production: She’s Wayne’s darling Princess Cass: *will break your fingers*

She does appear behind the camera crew to scare them on purpose, she thinks it’s funny, she likes seeing them freak out

She is super competitive, but she's always like "Oh I'm not that competitive" *proceeds to be very competitive*

Because she isn't super confident in her writing or speaking (or just uncomfortable communicating without seeing the other person's body language) she prefers to Facetime or simply reply to texts with selfies of her reaction. It is a thing now. when you need an honest opinion about an outfit, text a photo to Cass. She will either give back a photo of a thumbs up or a photo of a grimace and some not-so-flattering emojis

Her princess persona is her public cover persona in this show, parallel to Bruce’s “Brucie” and Dick’s “born for the cameras” thing

Is surprisingly vocal (and sometimes snippy) about her distaste with things but she mostly gets a pass because her morals align best with Bruce’s

Is most snippy when her family uses methods other than violence when violence is clearly the faster option, god they're such pacifists

Tim: *trying carefully to pick a lock* Cass: Just break through the wall? Tim: We can’t do that. We’re trying not to be noticed. Cass: Wimp

Bruce: Cass, why did you have to dislocate that man’s shoulder? Cass: I put it back. Bruce: That’s not the point. Cass: Fine, I’ll dislocate it again.

Is the best fighter, none of this “oh she’s the best fighter so when people do win against her, it makes them look cooler” thing, shut tf up, she could break their bones (not important to the show ofc but I need to add this because it is important in general)

Horrible at drawing, wretched (again a headcanon but I did see someone else mention it somewhere)

Also bad at writing, refuses to study to improve out of principle (i.e. she told Babs she doesn’t need to and now she refuses to admit Babs was right)

(AND SIDE-HEADCANON IF SHE IS HORRIBLE AT WRITING AND ACTIVELY HATED STUDYING HER ALPHABET THEN WHAT IF LIKE ONE DAY SOMEONE SAYS “hey can you grab me one of these files from last week’s case, it’s under M” SHE’S LIKE “fuck you, how could you do this to me” WHILE SEARCHING FOR M OR MORE SIMPLY *throws something at them*)

That's all I have right now. If you'd like to give me any recommendations, please do. I can't promise I'll add in every single one because this show is still about the whole Batfam, not just her, but I want to do her justice, and that definitely involves more fine-tuning on my part

OKAY THAT'S ALL LOVE YOU BYE

[soxcietyy]

Haunted House

Yuta Okkotsu x fem reader

Tw: sucking dick 🤪

Every year a group of students are picked at Jujutsu tech to create a "Haunted house". Usually made from whatever the students could do or create. They were given two weeks to complete it before they opened it. As childish as it sounded it was part of the school’s tradition. This year Yuta, Itadori, and panda were chosen to go all out.

You didn’t want to brag but you, Megumi and Inumaki had the best haunted house last year. Especially because you decided to sneak curse spirits into the place as props. Let’s just say Maki ended up exercising them all.

You weren't quite sure what to expect from those boys. You would see them meet up on campus to plan things out often. Though every time you got near they’d shoo you away. Yuta would refuse to spoil anything because that would ruin the fun. So tonight was the night you would find out if all his hard work paid off.

Taking your uniform off a after a long day at school you decide to switch to something more casual. That being a skirt and a tee. Megumi had asked if you wanted to accompany him through the haunted house seeing how his best friend was hosting it meaning he had no one to go with. Agreeing he asked you to get ready and to meet him at the school entrance by sundown.

By the time you get there you see everyone there. Megumi being in the front of the line, most likely to get this over with. Yuta stood in front of a set of doors to the school building. The other ones seem to be missing but that didn’t matter. Approaching Megumi you link your arm around his stiff one. He wasn’t much of a fan of contact but as a gentleman taking a lady to a haunted house he needed to make her feel safe.

You could see Yuta from the corner of your eye looking irritated. Though he didn’t say anything to you. You could read him like an open book and you could tell he was not pleased by this. A younger tall male that had someone’s girlfriend attached to his arm.

Your lovely boyfriend still had his uniform on but was also damped in sweat from working hard today. You flutter your eyes at him catching him roll his eyes. Obviously you were just messing with your boyfriend though he didn’t find it quite funny.

"We are going to make this where only two people at a time will be able to go in. Shouldn’t take any long, also please do not harm the actors. We can’t have the same incident twice in a row." Yuta said as he directed you and Megumi in first.

Entering you could see much since the windows where covered up. The only light source being the few hallway lights they decided to leave on. The building was covered in spider webs and big fuzzy spiders. You would see some props around the hall not knowing if they were fake or them hiding.

As Jujutsu sorcerer you would think this wouldn’t be scary. You know being used to going to haunted abandoned places and fighting off curse spirits but knowing people are trying to scare you just made you overthink.

Walking down the hall you could see a shadow walk across the hall. You quickly pause and look at Megumi. “Do we really have to go there?" You ask.

"If we want to get this over with quicker yes." He said pulling you along. You could hear the echo of your foot steps the further you went down the hall. You could hear the old wood settling around the building. You could feel eyes being on you.

You hated this time of year. You were the only one that would get scared easily and would run away. You remember your first year you ran out the building crying. You cringe at the embarrassing memory.

Surprisingly nothing has happened yet. The second you were about to open your mouth the door next to you slammed open. You let out a scream as you backed up bumping into Megumis chest. Looking up you saw as a huge body overlooked you. He let out a loud roar as he put his arms up to grab you. Pulling your fist back to punch him you feel your grind grab your arm.

"Calm down it’s just panda." He said.

Letting out a shaky breath you take a double take and noticed it was panda but not panda? He was an all white panda… a polar bear.

"What’s more scarier than a panda? A polar bear, one of the most deadly bear species." He chuckled as he walked off.

You grabbed your chest trying to calm yourself down. Such a simple jump scare and you fell for it. Continuing your journey you decide it was best to stand behind Megumi. He would be the first one to get scared rather than you. You always thought about how trusting people are in hunted houses. How did you know there wasn’t an actual crazy person blending in? How do you know if a criminal didn’t just decided to join just to kill people. What if a crazy person snuck onto campus and is pretending to be a student?

"Megumi I think we should go back and call it a night." You say to him as you follow behind.

"Y/n your older than me, act like it." He said not stopping.

Coming closer to another corner you see something reflect with the light. It seemed to be a shiny piece of metal on the wall. Peeking over Megumi who had finally come to a stop you notice another piece of metal. Slowly three more appears and a face creeped around the corner. Their face was pealing off revealing blood and they wore a hat. You screamed as you saw him fully. It had to be Freddy fucking Krueger.

"Relax it’s probably Itadori in a costume." Megumi said reinsuring you.

He was right plus he was the last one to get pass. Yuta wasn’t wearing a costume when you saw him. Before you could even calm down you heard a loud noise behind you. Slowly turning your head you see a guy in a white button down with their sleeves rolled up, and black pants. They wore a hockey mask and carried a chain saw. Your heart dropped as he came closer to you guys. You grab Megumi’s hand holding it tight.

All of a sudden you felt his tense up. This wasn’t good at all. It was almost as they had a count down because after three seconds of you guys standing there both people from down each hall started running towards you guys. You screamed and ran away leaving Megumi to fend for himself.

Running past Freddy you make a sharp right turn hoping it was the correct way to the exit. You turn around to check if anyone followed you and sure enough Jason was walking towards you quickly with his chain saw running. You regretted looking back, not only because you didn’t like what you saw but because you ended up falling to the ground. You ended up falling and hitting your chin. Then a sharp pain was felt on your knee but you had no time to look at it. Standing back up you ran even faster. You were going to find the exit no matter what. Going down the hall you made it to a blocked off exit. Panic set in as you thought of what to do. Pulling a class room door open you hid inside of it.

This class room was empty but had plenty of cabinets to hide in. Quickly you run to one and fit your body inside. You were panting at this point. Breathing hard to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe you left Megumi. He was so going to hate you from now on. Still feeling pain on your knee and pull your phone out and use the flash to inspect. Taking a look horror washed upon you seeing a thumb tack in your knee. You wanted to let a cry out knowing how painful it was going to be. Before you could even attempt to pull it out you hear a loud door creek. Gasping you drop your phone on your stomach and clasp your hand on your mouth. You could hear as his steps became closer and how our heart pounded.

Closing your eyes shut you felt a sudden gust of wind. You gasped as you felt an arm grab you and drag you out. They dragged you against the cold floor to a corner of the room trapping you. Tears streamed down your face as you begged him to let you go. Coming down to eye level with you he let out a chuckle.

"My poor baby girl," he said taking his mask off to reveal himself. Of course it had to be Yuta. His face was even more damp than before and his hair was a mess. He held your face as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. Looked at you up and down with a smile in his face clearly enjoying the view. "I love seeing tears in your eyes but only when my cock is in your mouth."

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to push his hands away from your face. Though he didn’t budge at all keeping them in the same place.

"Yuta I hurt myself." You say pointing at your left knee. He turned his attention to it, raising his brows at the sight of it.

"Ouch, let me pull it out for you." He said as he tried grabbing but you swat his hand away.

"It’s going to hurt so don’t touch it." You say trying to let Shoko look at it first.

You were ready to go home at this point. When trying to find a way to stand up you see as he slowly boxes you in. Two hands places against the wall and his body covering the sight of the exit. You look at him confused.

"We can’t leave yet.” He said

"Why is that?" You say looking at him.

He didn’t respond immediately but when he did decide to he made sure to look away. "I have a hard on". His face seemed to turn a shade of pink in the dark. Looking at his member you could definitely see it protrude through the pants he wore.

"Can you please suck it?" He asks looking at you with eyes full of arousal.

This was definitely not how you thought this haunted house was gonna go.

Nodding in agreement you felt his hand rest on the back of your head pulling you towards his crotch. Smushing you face right onto his hard member. You could feel the heat of it through the fabric as he continued to rub you on it. Letting go he quickly undid his pants. Pulling his cock out to reveal how urgent he needed this done. You could see how it was leaking with precum.

Grabbing his member he rubbed the tip of it on your lips, glazing them in his juices. He still wore a smile as he did it.

Grabbing his members you spit on it. Coating it in your saliva. Running your hands up and down his shaft. You could see the goosebumps on his arm as you continued. Increasing g the speed of your hands you moved onto his sack. Placing both balls in your mouth. He groaned feeling your hot wet tongue play with them. They felt soft but big in your mouth.

"Open." He says desperate for more.

Slowly you open your mouth for him to use. Looking up at his with your puppy eyes. He bit the bottom of his lip before shoving his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise not thinking he was going to go all in. You let out a gag but that didn’t stop him. Grabbing your hair he bobbed your head back and forth. Throwing his head back he groaned loudly. Letting out mumbles of curse words.

"Fuck, your so fucking perfect."

His cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. While his balls would smack your chin as he went on.

"Your so fucking good at taking me. Keep your eyes on me baby no looking away." He said as he’s pushing your head all the way to his base. You’re eyes began to tear up. Drool leaked out of your mouth dripping onto the floor. He loved the way you were messy on his cock. The slurping sounds you made, the way you gagged, the way you just looked at him.

With a few final shoves he pulls out and comes all over your face. You looked at him baffled for a minute. He also looked at you shocked not being able to believe he did that. Not only because it was all over you but the fact that students and teachers where outside waiting for them to come out.

[dodgebolts]

the moment that absolutely no one has been waiting for... here are the results of the dtblr survey that went out last week! Thank you to the 650 people who responded, easily eclipsing the 598 responses that were submitted in September :]

Open the read more to see the results!

Starting out, we have a newcomer to our top 8, welcome Awesamdude, who stole a spot from Quackity (20.7% -> 3.1%). Since the last survey, more people say they main all 3 Dream Team members and less people are maining their friends, most of them slipping under 10% of respondents saying they mained them save for the lovely Foolish Gamers.

Next, there was an increase in people who came for and still are here for the Dream Team—with a decrease in the proportion of respondents for nearly every other category. Dream team forever!

While most people (85%) have been around before 2022, we have a greater proportion of newer people around now! In the last survey, that number was even greater at 93%. So don't feel bad for being new, it's actually way more likely than you think, and a very warm welcome to the 5% of people who joined after the face reveal/meetup <3

Next is a question that I think is really interesting: has watching the Dream team influenced how people play Minecraft? More people now don't play as much, which tracks considering that they play Minecraft a lot less than they used to.

Now for a rather sore subject for a lot of people, since there's been quite a shift in who plays in MCC since the last time. In the last poll, 60.8% of people said they watched Dream. Now, those viewers have dispersed across creators or just stopped watching altogether, with both George and Sapnap gaining 10% from their numbers in the fall. However, 25% of people said that they don't watch anymore, a huge jump from the 4.5% in the fall. RIP MCC Dream, you're missed severely by the community <3

Next up, Trust Issues has managed to nearly catch up to some of Dream's released music, gaining 8 percentage points from the last survey. Dream if you're out there your fans want it really badly. Release it just for us?

Since the fall, we've seen the official end of the DSMP, so this is more of a legacy question, which is reflected pretty well in the statistics shifting towards people who either don't watch or are very casual about it, our lorehead population shrinking by 4 percentage points from the first survey.

These statistics haven't moved too much since the first one, the trends going pretty much as predicted with following decreasing from main -> alt -> priv (with the exception of Dream whose alt is often confused for his main) and with George and Sapnap having fewer people following them than Dream.

The statistics shift from this question is really interesting, especially given all the shit that's gone down on Twitter since the first survey. The percentage of dtblr who joined the fandom on there increased 7.7%, a gain that knocked down nearly every other platform's percentages. AO3 also makes its debut in the top 6, tying with Reddit exactly.

Much like the twitter following question, these statistics didn't shift too much, with the YouTube algorithm and word of mouth from other people/creators doing most of the heavy lifting of marketing for the Dream Team. Shoutout to the people who found out through either Heat Waves or MrBeast, you guys are on like 2 ends of a horrific spectrum y'all are strong as hell LOL

Now for some shared fandom trauma, these results also didn't change too much from the first survey. However, for this iteration I added Supernatural, as I probably should've done the first time considering this IS the SPN website after all. I managed to grab a few more people than last time out of the 'none of the above' category with its inclusion, so hi all my former and current SPN bloggers o/ <- has never seen the show before

A vast majority of us have watched gaming content in some form before, and fewer people this time have never watched gaming content before. From those who specified which games they'd watched, the titles ranged far and wide, so it's really cool to see all of us under the dtblr umbrella :)

Once again, this question showcases how lurkers truly carry the community on their backs—there's a small decrease in lurkers from last time and an increase in blogging answers, so it seems like some of our lurkers started posting which is awesome :D

Over half of us don't really watch any other MC servers, but there's still a ton of people who like watching them! From the last time I ran the survey, most of the servers—save for Empires and Karmaland—now have fewer dtblr watchers. The QSMP makes a strong debut on the board though, eclipsing half of the other options.

This was a really interesting question, though it seems like the vast majority of people either continued posting on the same blog or took a break and just jumped back into the fray! Also a late welcome to the ~15% of people who either weren't here or started posting after <3

The answers to this question showed some of the most interesting shifts from last fall's data. Fewer people seem to be listening regularly, and the proportion of people who responded no is nearly doubled from the fall's 21%.

These data points were also really interesting to see shift from the fall! Of note, fewer people like and tolerate Jackbox, and more people seem to have warmed up to FPS games—Fortnite, CS:GO, and Valorant all have fewer people in the "don't like & won't watch" category. Still, Valorant is easily the most hated game of the 6 while Geoguessr is still almost universally loved/tolerated.

As expected in the shipping category, DNF dominates any other ships, with Karlnap easily taking the second place. The proportion of Toosh enjoyers has doubled since the fall, up from 14.7%, while the number of non-shippers has halved. Additionally, the proportion of Karlnapity enjoyers has plummeted from 25.4% to less than 10%. Otherwise, most ships have stayed within 3-4 percentage points of their fall numbers!

Once again, Dream seems to have forced the hands of nearly half of us, turning non-RPF shippers into the RPF fandom we are today. Interestingly, the number of "yes" respondents has nearly doubled from the fall, while fewer people responded that they still don't ship RPF. As would make Dream happy probably, the pie chart is colored blue and green.

Now onto some of the demographic questions, we've continued to be very heavily biased towards North America and Europe, with nearly 85% of us coming from those two continents. Compared to the fall, we've gotten proportionally more South American and Oceanian rep. Hey to the Asians/Australians who are probably going to see this when it's first posted! o/

Once again, the majority of us seem to be around the same age as our streamers, with 80% of us falling between the ages of 18 and 30. Don't fret, though! From the fall, the proportion of respondents in both the <18 and >30 age brackets have increased. All in all, nothing too surprising.

The pride parade is still running from last fall, with approximately the same percentage of people identifying as LGBTQIA+ or unsure. Just in time for pride month in a day or so!

I'm not sure if I was just miscounting but I could not for the life of me get all of these little squares into a proper rectangle, so just bear with my weird organization here. Regardless, the majority of us rep the blue and green as our favorite colors, with multiple people specifying the hex code of George's minecraft shirt or a classic teal.

It's been about a month since this has been out, and we still unfortunately haven't gotten It Takes Two back. We're still in the phase 42% of people believe that we're going to stay in for a while, getting bounced back and forth between Dream and George hoping that they can get the other wrangled for it. #I_BELIEVE!

This was kind of a cruel question for most of us, but to the 11 people who answered that have met any of them, know that you're in a very select group of users. I'm jealous!

Now to answer the age-old question of the dtblr 1%, it constitutes those of you with around or over 5,000 followers, while a majority of people have less than 50 followers or just no blog at all. As with most other follower polls I've seen floating around, the responses were heavier towards the bottom, but as is the common advice/adage, follower count means very little here—just start chatting and posting!

For the final question, I thought it'd be interesting to see what dtblr's academic interests are, and also to reaffirm or break my belief that George is like a flame to the moths of CS/Engineering-focused people, which was at least initially supported by the data from the fall. We've got people from all across the diversity of academic fields, with the most people indicating that they're interested in the arts and humanities.

As for my hypothesis: among non-George mains, the proportion of CS/Engineering people is about 5.5%, whereas 18.3% of George mains indicated that they're interested in CS/Engineering. In fact, I took a closer look at all the people who noted their interest in CS/Engineering, and nearly 70% of them said that they mained George. Like I said, moths to a flame. or something. I'm right there with y'all 🫡

That's all! Thanks so much to everyone for responding and waiting for me to get through all of this data, it's always a big task but I love seeing the results. Until next time!

[rainbowsky]

twitter BJ_ByYourSide/status/1427940852433776640 I'm confused on why this clip isn't on everyone's favorite list. There so much here! DD not wanting to sound fake and wanting to keep stuff away from the media. Reminds me of when he seemed upset with dd for praising him until gg reassured him he was being sincere. And obviously this is crush behavior- "what did he say about mee", so cute! Do you know when this was filmed? I would imagine the earlier stages cause he seemed insecure

This is the link, to make it easier for readers.

Hi Anon,

I'm a bit confused about why you think this isn't a popular clip. This one is actually quite popular, and fans made a big deal about it when it was first released. It's maybe not as popular as the 9 minutes of bickering on a boat or the lewd moments or jealousy in 3 languages, but it's also not nearly as exciting as those clips.

To me in order for a clip to be exciting it has to be entertaining (and ones containing both of them are always the most entertaining) or it has to reveal something new about them (jealousy in 3 languages seemed to give clues about their sexual orientation, for example).

This clip, while cute and also somewhat hilarious, doesn't give anything all that new. We already knew that DD is into GG, we already knew that he's the sort of person to be invested in what GG thinks about him and in what GG says about him.

I also don't see this clip the same way a lot of fans see it. I don't see it as 'early days, guy has a crush on another guy' at all. It strikes me as fairly normal behavior that doesn't give us much timeline insight. I think anyone discussing an interview where they were a likely topic would want to know what the other person said about them, especially if they were romantically involved with them.

If anything, that clip makes me eye the Devil's Timeline even more. There are a few things that stick out.

DD is speaking pretty openly about how sweet, handsome, cute, etc. GG is. That's not something I see someone as reserved as DD saying about someone he doesn't know well, to people he doesn't know well.

When the producer says that GG said they 'have a good friendship', everyone in the room starts laughing. To me it comes across as, "That's the understatement of the year." Like the people there know that GG and DD are more than just friends.

When DD brings up the game, I think he's musing about things he could have mentioned in the interview but didn't - not that he's 'excited about having had some alone time with a guy he has a crush on', as so many turtles think. That's only reinforced by what someone said in the comments of that clip, that "I didn't want to say it" in reference to the game was actually mistranslated and would be better translated as "I forgot it", which is why the producer said, "Your reaction was slow."

Similarly, someone in the comments said that "Am I fake?" (in response to why he didn't say all these glowing things about GG in the interview) would have been better translated as, "I would have sounded fake." So some fan impressions come out of how the clip was translated.

Everyone's going to have their own interpretations/impressions of things. A lot of fans read DD as insecure here, trying to pump the producer for information about his 'crush'. That's not at all how I saw this clip.

To me, judging from DD's body language and demeanour, he comes across as relaxed and maybe a bit bored. I don't see any insecurity at all in his behavior or speech.

He's obviously quite comfortable in his surroundings and with the people around him. DD is a scrupulously polite, often very reserved guy. He simply wouldn't behave so casually around people he doesn't know well or have a good rapport with. Some of his behavior could come across as rude if he's interacting with a superior he doesn't know very well.

So this clip tells me that DD has developed a laid back relationship with the crew, which leads me to believe he's not the 'new', 'shy', 'insecure' person that fans read him to be.

I also get the impression - like I said before - that DD is already in a relationship with GG at this point.

It's hard to say when it was recorded, but likely well into filming. After all, those interviews were filmed as promo, and it's unlikely they'd start filming those things before the cast and crew had gotten well into the groove of the project.

Just my two cents. Like I said, a lot of people have a different view of this and that's their right. We'll likely never know for sure what this was really all about.

If people don't talk about clips like this much now, it's probably because the BTS is really old and people aren't talking about any of the BTS much these days. These BTS moments were all filmed nearly 6 years ago.

Edit: here's GG's interview, which is being discussed in that clip.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

I really love your NSFW hwadcanon posts....could you do one for Beatrix and a female Courier or Reader? 👉👈 Totally not self indulgent reasoms

Yet another ghoul I'm so bummed you can't recruit as a companion (especially since she gives the vibe that she'd kick some real ass and wouldn't need you to babysit her). I am, however, pretty happy that you can at least pay her for her "services" if you recruit her to be a sex worker for the Garrets. The fact that they use feral ghoul noises when it cuts to black if you do so really tickles me.

Also, it makes me so happy that you guys enjoy the headcanon posts! Thanks for reading and thanks for subscribing! 🧡

Beatrix Russell (Fallout: New Vegas) x Female Courier NSFW Headcanons

Serious dacryphilia kink. She wouldn't brag as much as she does about enjoying pain if she didn't wanna see her favorite "victim" shed a few tears. I mean, it really completes the whole look and feel of properly breaking in one of your new toys. Seems like she might even like to taste your tears on the right day. Full-on sobbing may not turn her on...but it doesn't necessarily turn her off, either.

Big fan of rope play, both because it gives her control of her partner and because it keeps them confined into one position where she can easily predict how they'll react. Enjoys "suspension"-type rope play even more and would absolutely love to dangle you from the ceiling like a side of beef while she plays with you, but finding a building with strong enough...anything for such fun can be difficult.

If she likes you, she wouldn't be opposed to the idea of you sleeping at the foot of her bed and being her little pet. You're gonna have to come to her, though. She won't make the first move when it comes to "making things more serious" or seeing one another more regularly. You can come around for as many casual fucks as you want (you know where she is; she makes sure of it), but if you wanna spend the night and cuddle and shit, you'll have to be the one to bring it up. She'll be excited that you like her enough to want to be around her more, but she'll try her hardest to be cool about it.

She can be incredibly mean when she wants to be, clearly, but if she really cares about and likes you, deep down she will want to spoil you somehow. Bea isn't a natural gift-giver, herself, as she's developed quite a stingy streak over the years, but if she senses that you're the type of person who really enjoys gifts, she'll try her best. If you're not a "gifts" person, she'll try for sweet gestures, or maybe compliments, but there may be some growing pains for her in either department. She isn't a particularly romantic person by nature but she'll put in effort.

I picture her being a stone top or damn near close. Whether she has past trauma from a long (and obviously turbulent) life, touch issues, or because she simply doesn't like the vulnerability that comes with being the "receiving" partner, I have a hard time picturing her doing anything but topping or taking care of herself. Some people may feel selfish only ever receiving, or worry that her needs aren't being met, but don't stress about it; there are a lot of other things the two of you can do that she still enjoys...you know, things that aren't beating you black and blue. She's very good at communicating what she does and doesn't want, so feel free to explore when the two of you are in the right space (read as: she's allowed you any control). She enjoys being mean, but she doesn't want to drive you away when all you're trying to do is please her. Plus, you can always put on a show for her while she touches herself; she has few to no qualms with that.

Beatrix would absolutely love to brand you. In fact, she might be able to cum just from the sound of you squealing in pain as she permanently marks you as her own. She's incredibly possessive, after all, if she manages to get to the point where she has feelings for someone, which is rare. Not impossible, though.